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Speak Loudly and Carry a Big Sword and Shield

1 Jan

Happy New Years, ya filthy animals! I hope that everyone had a wonderful new years and got to kiss someone. Just kidding, I hope all of you were as miserable as I was and figured it was time to give up on being happy at 2:30AM. I’m not really big on doing those whole “New Years resolution” things because I know that I am terrible at following through on plans and I would rather eat Cheetos then lose weight. But, I do have a few “New Years Contemplations” that I believe are worth sharing…

  • Swear Less
  • Lose Weight Maintain weight
  • Fall in Love Get another cat
  • Use Less Sarcasm Use less sarcasm in public places
  • Find Jesus Find Hispanic man named Jesus
  • Be Happy

I realized after I wrote my “New Years Contemplations” that some of them needed to be revised. Needless to say, I think my contemplations are off to a really good start. I’m more then content with who I am, I just want to be a better version of myself in 2014. Looking forward, 2014 is going to be one hell of a life-changing year. Today marks exactly 150 days until I walk across the stage and get a piece of paper I’ve been working 13 years for. I’ll have moved out of the house by the time summer is here and i’ll be starting college in the fall. Yeah, my 2014 is going to be full of tea and crumpets and debt. One thing I forgot to do in 2013, though, I will not forget to do in 2014. I forgot to be happy. This past year was a really bumpy one; I’m sad to say that it’s a year that I questioned if I was going to make it through at times. But I figured out that it’s all about choices and if I want to be happy, I need to make the choice to be happy.

On September 2nd, 1901, Theodore Roosevelt used the phrase “Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far” at our very own Minnesota State Fair. The Big Stick ideology is one that has been used for a long, long time and has proven successful. If you have a hard time reading between the lines and can’t figure out what the quote means (or if you’re too damn lazy to google it), It simply means this: Speak with caution and use non-aggression to solve problems, but threaten violence if necessary. Well, I’d like to say that from now on, I’m going to modify that phrase to fit my life from now on. I have spoken with caution and tried non-aggressive tactics for the longest time, but no one listens to me. I feel like after I speak loudly, something much more powerful than a big stick is going to be necessary, so I’m going to start carrying a sword. And for sally’s sakes, I’m going to carry a shield, too, because I work to hard on making my face stay attractive then to let it get messed up. So, if you feel like messing up my happiness this year, this will more then likely be the scenario you will be in:

Dumb person: Bella you’re dumb.

Bella: You’re dumb, too. (Bella proceeds to find the nearest inanimate objects, which so happens to be a toaster and cucumber, and begins beating the dumb person with the toaster, all whilst screaming out vulgar obscenities because well, Bella is a fearless lady who, like the honey badger, don’t give a fuck. After the dumb person has taken their beating via kitchen appliance like a champ, Bella screams more obscenities.)

Dumb Person: (Dumb person doesn’t saying anything because they are occupied by the cucumber lodged up their rectum.)

So, if anyone has any questions about my mantra this year, feel free to ask questions, I’ll be more then happy to clear them up. I’ve just figured out that sitting in the shadows and not speaking up does not get you anywhere. Push-overs get pushed-over. I am not, nor will I ever be a push-over. So now that the aggressive, third-person version of myself, it’s time to start getting a little bit more real. So, if you’re the type of person who can’t handle raw-emotions and real feelings, thanks for reading this far! If you have had some troubles in your life lately and feel like anything I could say could help you, then keep on reading mi amigo.

Aside from using more aggressive tactics, I’m gonna start 2014 finding happiness in myself and myself only. I’ve learned the hard way that material items and people don’t make you happy, your own personal choices and decisions are what really make you happy. So many times I hear about people trying to find that “special someone” who lights up their freaking world or a new pair of sparkly Ugg boots that almost makes them drop their Starbucks. Well, I’m here to burst your bubble and say that none of that will make you truly happy. Now when I mean happy, I mean a different type of happy then that fake ass emoji on the iphone that looks like it’s been snorting lines. I mean the type of happy that gets you out of bed every single morning simply because you’re happy to start the day. This type of happy is the type of happy that will have you singing a song in silence and blowing kisses at brick walls, because god forbid brick walls deserve to be loved, too. This isn’t the type of happy that waits around for a goodnight text, this is the type of happy that shuts the phone off and blows out the candle in your heart and whispers “Go to sleep damnit”. Why do you want this type of happy? Because this type of happiness is something that only you can find; no one can find it for you. No one can judge your type of happy because no ones happiness is the same. If they do judge you, you don’t care because you’re to busy painting rainbows with your eyes and listening to bliss with your heart. Some of you might argue that you’ve found this type of happy with a significant other  or a pair of boots, but I am going to disagree with you. You know you’re reading this and there is something nagging at the back of your brain and you know damn well what I’m talking about. Find yourself and be happy, you owe it to yourself.

One of the hardest lessons I learned in 2013 was that I am not a superhero, I am a person. I can’t fix people and I can’t fix there problems. That lesson was a really hard one to learn. Unfortunately for me, I thought that I could befriend someone and fix their problems, and in turn I thought I was going to be happy. I fell really hard for this person and by doing that, I forever gave myself the mentality that I could fix someone. You know the saying “You can’t fix what’s not broken”? Well, you also can’t fix what is broken, you just have to live with it and accept it for who it is, all while learning how to take it or leave it in the process. He left to go try to fix himself for a few months and in that process, I learned that I am not superman and I can’t keep holding out for something that isn’t going to change. I’ve repeated the process a few times since then and honestly, it doesn’t get any better each time. But boy, this last one was special I tell you. He can’t be fixed, he won’t be fixed and all I can do is offer my shoulder to cry on and walk away. It’s a really hard lesson to learn and walking away from this one is going to be hard but I’m gonna do it because why? I deserve to be happy. I am not a superhero, I can’t fix people or there problems. All I can do is fix me, fix my problems and hope to hell that I’ll walk away with that type of happy.

Now that I’ve gotten the less-aggressive side, I’m here to leave you with the only words of wisdom I know how. Never let anyone take your happiness and stop relying on material things or people to provide you with that happiness. Don’t try to fix people, you’re not a superhero. Lastly? Find that type of happy.  Generally I leave you with a homemade quote or mantra but for the first time, I’m not going to. It’s a new year, make up your own mantra and stick with it. Me? I’m going to speak loudly and carry a big sword and shield.


I’m Coming Out (It’s Not What You Think, I Promise)

29 Dec

Nope, I’m not gay. But it is about time that I came out.  I’d like to think of my coming out as more of a declaration of independence, an emancipation proclamation to free who I really am as a person. Some people believe in the whole “New Year, New You” thing, but why can’t we have a “New You” every single day of the week? Why wait around for a single day, or a moment rather, to change who you are? Well, this is my moment.

I’ve gotten a lot of flack from people lately about who I am as a person. (I’m more than likely going to get a lot more of that flack being that I’m discussing MY problems on MY personal blog. I am such a terrible person ha. ha. ha.) If you’re going to have a problem with me after reading this or already have a problem with my before reading this, I suggest that you stop reading and get me out of your life. I get that I’m an extremely interesting person, but I can promise that I’m not interesting enough to pick a fight with. You, my friends, will lose. That being said, I’d like to address some things and come out to all of you in the best way that I know how.

I’m a Mean Person

There, I said it. I’m a mean person. Has that satisfied anyone? It doesn’t feel very satisfying to me. Those four words don’t build me up, nor break me down as a person. So telling me that I’m a mean person does not affect me, I know I’m a mean person. I judge people, I use demeaning and degrading words, I talk about people behind their back and yes, I even blog about people and my problems for the world to see. Is that satisfying to people? Before going any further, let’s look at todays definition of mean. Hell, I can’t even figure out a true definition of the word mean. If you can’t back up a word with a definition, don’t use it. I don’t really know what the word pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis means, therefore I don’t use it my vocabulary, nor do I use it towards people. yes, our friend Webster’s Dictionary has a definition for the word “Mean”, but there’s also a definition for the word “The”, so I’d like to not base definitions solely on the dictionary. What I’m trying to get across is that don’t go calling someone a name that you can’t back up with a universal definition.

I have recently been told that my blog is mean, as well as my Facebook, twitter and social media posts. We’ve already covered that I am mean, so this is no news to me. My Facebook is able to be viewed by strictly friends, but I do have a lot of “friends” on my page. I am open with what I post, try to be careful of what I post and be conscientious of who is viewing what I post. If I do post something strong on Facebook, it’s for a reason. It has a purpose. I know who is viewing it. Example, If I am writing publicly to have people stop gossiping about me, then I mean every word that I say. I am very aware that it could very well piss people off. Well cool, that’s good for them. I gossip, I admit that, too. I’m hypocritical. What I’d like to challenge everyone to do is to take a step back and ask themselves something very simple: Can I admit my flaws? If you can’t point out your own flaws and your own faults, then I’d like to say that you have no business pointing out anyone else’s. Pointing fingers is frowned upon in the first place, but if you’re gonna do it, you better be able to back it up and be able to admit your own problems yourself. My twitter is my twitter, I’m not perfect. I say a lot of things on there and try to keep the “subtweeting” about my peers to a minimum. Can’t handle my Facebook or twitter? Block me, delete me. I will NOT be offended! I think I have about 76 people on my Facebook block list? Now a large majority of you are going to roll your eyes and go “Oh my gosh, blocking people doesn’t solve all of your problems, how immature”. Hmmm. Blocking people might not get people out of my life and solve my problems, but it sure does get a point across. As for my blog, I have nothing to apologize for. Clicking every link that is posted, searching for it on Google and reading my posts is up to YOU. You’re reading this right now because you made a conscious effort to click, scroll, etc. If you’re going to get angry at my posts, my language, and my domain in general, then don’t click. Simple as that! My blog is for my personal use and I can say that I have NEVER, nor will I ever include peoples names and personal information. If you feel something is about you or you feel affected by something, I can’t offer you any advice. My posts are a reflection of my life and peoples actions. If you’ve influenced it, then swallow your pride and realize it. If you feel like something is about you, chances are it could be. If the shoe fits, then lace that bitch up and wear it. Enough said. My blog. My space. My words. My thoughts. I can’t please everyone and I’m not going to try.

So here it is: I deeply and sincerely apologize to anyone I have hurt, fucked over, lied to, cheated, degraded and demeaned. I am sorry, I will never be able to take any of that back, but I can move forward and be a better person. That being said, I’d like to say I will NEVER apologize for being a strong, independent person who is not afraid to voice their opinion. I will never EVER apologize for speaking my mind and saying the things that other people are afraid to say. I will not sit in the shadows and let people treat me with disrespect, either. If standing up for myself and being an individual person makes me “mean”, then I never want to be “nice”. I’ve come out and said it and admitted who I am and what I stand for and WOW does it feel good!

So I’m gonna finish up here in the same way that I always do. If you’ve read this entire post, I thank you. I want to thank everyone who supports me and provides me with positive information and affirmation. So, thank you all! So here it is, words of wisdom straight from my brain to the page.

“I try to be myself as much as possible. Which just means that I’m awkward and bitchy as much as possible.”

Wrecking Ball or Wrecking Balls?

16 Oct


So the question stands. For those of you who dwell on this poor excuse for writing, I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written anything. For those of you who actually know me, you know I’m not really sorry and quite frankly, I hate all of you. In the time since I’ve written last, a lot has happened. I’m still trying to live through my teenage angst stage thing and do you know what I’ve been learning? Everyone is dicks. (All you dicks who are apart of the grammar gestapo need to hop off my jock on that last sentence fragment there. Tenses mess me up) Even the people who don’t have dicks, they’re dicks, too. I can’t even handle people right now. Speaking of dicks, has anyone heard anything about Anthony Wiener lately? Man, that guy just grinds my gears in the worst way possible. What a sleazebag. Sorry for than rant there, I just really needed to get the word wiener off of my mind.

In the general nature of this piece of shit, I’m going to dive right into a list of things that piss me off. Enjoy you weinerholsters.


Good golly miss molly. If you haven’t been following my journey through the teen angst stage thing, I’m sorry for you because you’re missing out. But not on hormones. By gawd this shit sucks. Hormones of any kind are pathetic excuses to make my life a living hell.

“Hello, this is hormones speaking. I’d love to take time to speak to you about what I can do to spice up your life. With 4 installments of your happiness, I can ruin your face and give you the best connect-the-dot bacne you’ll have ever experienced. Also, if you’re a male, do you enjoy wearing sweatpants? Well no more sweatpants for you! I can give you NRB (No reason boners) in the blink of an eye! Ladies, do you like mood swings and occasional mental breakdowns? Well then you’re in for a treat! I can change your mood faster than Pamela Anderson changes the size of her knockers! Happy to sad, to happy to angry within a matter of minutes! But wait, there’s more! For a small payment of dignity, you can get not one, but two stupid decisions for the price of one! Don’t like the way you’re feeling? Order some bad decisions and we can hook you up with some heroine in no time! Got family problems? Not a problem! We can supply you with a healthy dose of prostitutes and you can bang your way out of misery! Thank you for listening and we hope you join us next time so we can ruin your fucking life some more!”

Yeah, that pretty much describes my feelings at the moment. I can’t promise you what i’ll be feeling in about five minutes because that’s how often my mood changes.

Men and Sex

I could write about this subject for about a million years. I’ve decided that there are no good men/boys/males on this entire planet. They are all dicks. WAIT. They just think with their dicks. I swear, if I could, I’d run around with a machete and chop every extra limb off. I don’t care if you’re marthafocking jesus, you probably done sinned, too. I can’t even right meow.  I think the male species needs to be knocked down about four hundred notches. Hey Robin Thicke? You’re not going to be giving anything to me, because you better damn well know by now I don’t want it. I do not want to receive anything from you in a boat, on a plane, on a ship or on top of a train. I do not want you giving anything to me in the dark, in the light, in the bus or flying a kite. I will get my machete and I will show you that I cannot be tamed (that one is for you miley). Believe it or not, not all girls want to engage in sexual acts just because you’ve got a marthafocking anaconda in your pants. Believe it or not, some of us actually find the massive rolling pin in your pants repulsive and we’d rather chops our boobs off with machetes because that’s the only way we’d be able to “calm our tits”. But obviously for some men, they can’t get sex off of their one track minds long enough to maintain a healthy, loving relationship because GAWD FORBID YOU CAN’T HAVE FUN WITHOUT FUCKING LIKE GORILLA’S. There’s some feministy quote out there about “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”. I may or may not be a woman scorned. But ITS OKAY because it’s not like the douchebag who scorned me is intellectual enough to read something other than the categories on PornHub. But it’s okay, I am a sassy, independent woman who don’t need no man. Especially when the man boy dumps her and gives her no reason but later she finds out that he dumped her because certain “goals” weren’t met and he was stupid enough to talk about said dumping at the lunch table. What I have learned through the teen angst stage is that status is everything. I’m sorry but, you’re a younger lad who is was dating a senior lass? Ha. Boy, aren’t you dumb. But this is all theoretical of course. If this was a real situation, I’d tell him he made one hell of a mistake because this lass is actually really fucking awesome if you look past the fact that she smells like tacos and cats way too often.

Girls and Sex

If I was just an outside observer, i’d say sex is ruining everyone’s life. OH WAIT, all these damn hormones are running my brain so of course sex is ruining everyones life. Girls are such bitches. If you want to get technical about the term “Bitch”, yes, girls are still bitches. They are all female dogs and they are all in heat one hundred percent of the time. End of story. Girls are never satisfied with anything, ever. If we could please forget that I am a girl for a second here, that would be greatly appreciated because i’d like to think that I am not a girl. Let’s not label me as a girl or a boy. Can I just be a cat? Okay, thanks. Girls are so caught up in the gossip and being assholes to other girls. You know why girls are especially sneaky? They think that just because they pretty, they be getting all dem boyz (I’m sorry for the grammatical nature of this part of the blog. I’ve been experimenting slang and ebonics). No. Just because you’re pretty does not mean that you’re awesome. All them boyz be thinking they wanna get in yo pants but little did they know that you’re vagina is like an echo. No one be likin an overly flirty girl. Remember that machete? Yeah, hide you tits. Because we be cutting all them titties off. Oofta. Ima go hit a flock of amish pretty soon.

Sad Music and Hormones

So here I am thinking that I can write this entire post without crying. Yeah, my bad.

“Hormones again! We’re here to not only fuck up your face and back, but we’re also here to change your mood with every song that changes!”

Not only do I have good taste in cat breeds, but I also have good taste in music. If you don’t think I have good taste in either, then you can go snort some lines because your opinion is irrelevant. Here’s some music that makes me cry.

  • Demons by Imagine Dragons
  • Best I Ever Had by Gavin DeGraw
  • You Found Me by The Fray
  • Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol
  • Mad World by Michael Andrews
  • Battle Scars by Lupe Fiasco
  • Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons
  • Every Image Dragons Song
  • If I lose Myself by One Rebublic
  • Counting Stars by One Republic
  • Next To Me by Emile Sande
  • Bedroom Hymns by Florence + The Machines
  • Blood Bank by Bon Iver
  • Skinny Love by Bon Iver
  • Thistle and Weeds by Mumford and Sons
  • Mirror by Lil Wayne

If you have any questions about my choice of music, feel free to contact me. And yes, Lil Wayne speaks to the soul.


People are so mean. Throughout the teen angst process, I have learned that being mean is a strong component for becoming a part of the social norm. No. No no no no no no no. This is not okay. If you think being mean is okay, you deserve to be shit on by the worlds largest elephant. Enough said. People need to realize that it’s okay to be different. I’m sure that a lot of people have different views on society and the views it holds. I’m sure this chunk of the post is going to sound extremely cliché, and that’s okay. Believe it or not, I am like an onion ( a lot less smelly though and I cost less per pound). While it’s nice to act like an asshole from time to time, hate the world and use sarcasm more than I use shampoo, it’s also nice to be different. Do you know what different means to me? Doing something that everyone else isn’t doing. What I’ve really learned in the middle of the teen angst stage is that all of the people around me are afraid to do something that is against the grain, something embarrassing or something awkward. I’ve got all of that covered because I’m awkward as fuck. I’ll let everyone in on a little tidbit of my life. As you may or may not have known, last year I was a part of my school’s adapted bowling team. Yes, adapted bowling team. If you haven’t followed any posts, I’ve been blessed with a variety of things that make me special such as arthritis and ehlers-danlos syndrome (the EDS isn’t as big of a problem as the arthritis. The arthritis is crimpin my style). I say “blessed” because I wouldn’t be the person that I am today. Some people chose to say “suffer from” or “deal with”, I just prefer to say “blessed with”. It’s a choice of words, none of the above is incorrect. Back to the bowling. When I first joined, I was skeptical because I didn’t know what my peers would thinks of me. After the season got over and our team went to state, I can honestly say that that team was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever been a part of. Competing with “those retards” (I don’t hate a lot of things, but when people break out the R word, I get utterly disgusted. Cut out the R word) was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. At that point, I didn’t care that I was seen with “them” because that was my team, my friends and a close family. Relating this back to society and the teen angst stage, so many kids my age would be embarrassed as hell to be seen with kids with mental and physical disabilities. My old Jazz Band teacher and the man I credit for teaching me the fundamentals of music taught me something I will never forget:

Leave your ego at the door, it’s no use”

Leave your ego at the door and stop caring what everyone else thinks. Don’t be Mr. Shadows and live from behind a cloud. Step outside, into the sun and be Mr. Skin Cancer and dance in the sun and soak up all the UV rays because life is awesome like that. Do you know who does that? As much as everyone hates her, Miley Cyrus does a fantastic job of demonstrating this. She isn’t just riding a wrecking ball, she’s straight up wrecking societies balls in the process. You go baby, you go.

Well folks, I think I’ve exercised all of my demons. Remember, If you think you’ve got life bad, you’ve never had a corn rash, okay? If you don’t know what corn rash is, google it. I will leave you in the only way I know how, with a homemade quote. Before I do, if you’ve read this whole thing, I thank you. You are why I still write. Just kidding, I write for me because honey badger don’t give a fuck. If you didn’t read this whole thing, go eat some cocaine cookies and get off of my blog.

“When life knocks you on your knees, stay there. It’s safer anyways and sometime you find snacks on the ground”

My Open Letter To Life

20 Aug

I recently saw a post on my reader that talked about “open letters”. The purpose of an open letter is to let go of old demons, establish closure and talk about your problems with yourself. You can write open letters on many different mediums (blogs, facebook posts, ‘ol paper and pencil, smoke signals, etc.) and they can prove to be very effective. I’ve read quite a few in my life and I have to say they can be extremely powerful things. Many people criticize the The Art of the Open Letter and deem it as a way to gain attention (AKA what most people in my generation label as “thirsty”).

I’m generally not a very emotional person, to be honest. I prefer to mask emotions with two things; laughter or awkwardness. Who doesn’t like laughter? I learned at a very early age that it’s never okay to cry to show weakness, laugh it off and keep that shit rolling.

“The best comedians are those with the most messed up life”

So i’m going a little unorthodox in the general style of the ‘ol blog and NOT write a list, bullet points or anything organized in the least. I try not to complain about life and the things it shoves at me very often, but everyone needs to let go once in awhile. So heads up to those reading, this is going to be about ME. If you don’t like reading about pity parties, sob stories or emotions, this is NOT the post for you. If you go to my home page, you’ll find some really great cat pictures somewhere in various posts. To those of you who are not pro open-letter:Go roll a joint full of rat poisoning and smoke it. Make some meth cookies while your at it. Your opinion is irrelevant to my life. So, here it goes. This, is my open letter to life.

Dear Life,

I’ve never quite understood “you”. I put “you” lightly because I don’t exactly know what “you” are. Are you a person? Who is your mom? We all have moms. Well, some of us don’t. Dear life, why do you take away some peoples moms? It really sucks to say the least. No one deserves to have their mom taken away. Its hard to watch someone you love go through that. What did they ever do to you to have their mom taken away? That my friend, is a really mean thing you sick bastard. Let’s take away your mom and see how you like it. But we (I say “we” loosely because I’m pretty sure I stand alone on this subject matter) can’t take away you mom but we have morals. Dear life, what did I do to you to hate me? Did I shit in your cereal? Did I steal your toy at recess? I’ve always tried to be a nice person but god damn (god is a whole different story…sorry god), you make things really difficult. I’ve become great at wearing masks and painting pictures of perfect scenarios that fly through my head. I laugh things off because crying would be out of the question. What else was little me supposed to do? My life wasn’t supposed to end up like this; I was supposed to be a normal child who acts like the rest of them. Perfect mind, perfect body and a pure soul. People tell me I have an “old soul”. Whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean, I just hope it doesn’t mean my soul is wrinkly. Gross.

I was standing in the elevator and I got to bring a friend. Half the kids laughed because only the “special kids” took the elevator and half the kids were enamored with the fact I was riding the elevator. Wait, was it bad to be “special”? I thought everyone is special? Am I not special enough or am I TOO special? I got these pills and these shots, cool physical therapy doctors and some stretchy band. I guess only the “special” kids got them. Am I flawed? Is it wrong to be the way I am? It kind of sucks. I dislocated my finger trying my shoe, my elbow popped out of place when I reached back to turn off the shower and I wear slippers to school because my feet hurt too bad to wear shoes. I take these shots. They’re supposed to not make me sick but in all reality I puke, lose my hair and can’t be near pregnant people. That’s cool. Nothing got better, nothing gets better and I’m still “special”. Life, I’ve been around for a good chunk of time and I decided to give up on the shots and pills and stretchy bands. You know why that sucks life? Because I don’t know what’s gonna happen next.

Freshman year is a scary time. A really scary time. Armpits smell weird, vaginas are a hot commodity and wearing floss up your ass is totally a social norm. I was scared, I was confused and I clung to whatever could get me through the scary time. Life, you were throwing a lot of stuff at me. Life, you made my sister sick and almost let her die. Taking away a cat, is a bitch move. Taking away someone’s mom is unbearable but trying to take away someone’s sister? Now that’s just a straight up dick move. Don’t do that again, kay thanks. Do you know what else is mean? Taking something away that shouldn’t be taken away. Life, letting something like that slide is not cool. But do you know what life? It’s okay, I took the blame for things you should have stopped. I still suffer the consequences of what you did every single day and you don’t even care. Life, you changed me for forever and I’ll probably never forgive you for that. Thanks for keeping my sister though, that was pretty nice of you I have to admit. Life, freshman year was a scary time and I’m still mad at you that you didn’t help me.

Music is cool. What kind of music do you like, life? I love music. I want to teach people music. That’s what I wanna be when I grow up, life. I want to be a music teacher. Teachers are really strange people, ya know? Do you think I will end up like one of them? I don’t want to end up wearing knee-length jeans skirts and wreak of coffee breath, no thanks. Life, I had this really cool teacher once. I loved that teacher. Not one of those weird, illegal kinds of love, but a love as in “hey-I-love-you-because-you’re-my-role-model”. Do you know what you did though, life? You let them leave. You let other people bully them out of leaving. Life, I don’t understand why you’re so possessive over your people. Sheesh. Do you know what that did? That left a hole in my life. Have you ever lost a role model, life? Is that why you did it? Did someone leave you? If so, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry actually because I know how much it hurts. But it’s okay life, I found a new role model. I loved them a lot, too. We were close and I trusted them with my life. Life, you would have really liked them. You would have never guessed what happened though! My role model left me, life. My role model hurt me. I cried a lot. I cried in the bathroom, clinging to the dirty floor because I was afraid it was gonna be the last thing I touched. Why did you let that happen life? I cried, I was sad and lost my passion for living. Life, I’m still mad at you because you let me lay on the bathroom floor and cry.

Life, has anyone told you they didn’t like you? Usually I ignore people who say they don’t like me. I was taught that those people aren’t worth your time. You know what is worth your time though, life? Living. Living is most definitely worth it, or else you’d be dead. Has anyone ever told you to die, life? It hurts. It hurts a lot to say the least. There’s moments when you ask yourself if you should listen to those people. Sticks and stones break your bones and hurt, but words stay branded in your brain for life. I remember the first time I was told I wasn’t pretty enough. Boys can’t judge what’s pretty, right? Aren’t boys like, colorblind? I remember the first time called me a degrading name. I listen to those same words in music, but I didn’t think it would happen to me. A bruise hurts, I’ve had those before. Purple, blue and yellow. Then it gets itchy sometimes because it’s “healing”.  When am I gonna feel “itchy”? I’ve waited for the colors to change.. Why did you let that happen, life? Did a boy call you ugly? Did a girl call you ugly? If so, I’m really sorry but it’s not a good excuse to let it happen to me. Life, i’m still mad at you for letting them brand my brain.

I’ve learned to be a really good painter, did I tell you that? I can paint happy, sad, excited, nervous and sometimes even no expression at all. Life, I’ve gotten really good at painting faces. Life, do you wear a mask? Just kidding! That’s a silly question to ask. I’ve never seen you before, so you must wear a whole different mask of your own. Do you paint happy pictures? It doesn’t seem like you do. You paint gray skies, sharp mountains and even lower valleys. You paint little raindrops that form tears, feelings that make themselves into cuts and scrapes and scenarios that turn angry. Do you like that? I think they have words for people like you, but I can’t exactly spell them. So if you’re one of those people, stop. Do you need to borrow a mask ever? I have an extra in my pocket if you’d like to borrow it. I put it on when people laugh at me. My mask has gotten so good at laughing on it’s own, I don’t even have to try anyone. My mask has gotten so routine it doesn’t even come off of my face sometimes. Life, did you glue my mask on my face? If so, it’s not  very funny. No one ever asks me to take off my mask though. I feel like people always ask if my mask is okay with things and my mask lies for me. One of these days life, I’m gonna rip that mask of and say it’s not okay. The mask has become a people pleaser, which is weird because, that’s not who I am? Isn’t that strange, life? I wish people would be considerate of my feelings sometimes. Life, why did you give me  a paintbrush? I don’t think we can be friends anymore life… I’m sorry.

Feelings are really strange things, huh? Do you have feelings life? Wait.. Is that too personal to ask? I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, I hope you’re not going to be mad. Everyone has feelings though, right? Right? Sometimes I wish feelings didn’t exist. Well, then I couldn’t love my cats. Okay, sometimes I wish every feeling besides loving your cat would disappear. Sometimes I lie and say I’m feeling nothing at all. Is it okay to feel for something that doesn’t feel for you back? What if they don’t have feelings at all? I know some hollow people and I don’t know how they live my life. Everyone tells me to stay away from hollow people because they are no good. For some reason I keep on gravitating to all of the hollow people, hoping that feelings will fill up their holes, too. Like a tree, ya know? Life, do you think that can happen to people? Do you think people’s holes will fill up like tree’s fill up with critters? Or like McDonalds fills up with fast food junkies? Life, do you think it could happen? I really wish that would happen. For now I’m going to try to stay away from all of these hollow people. I think I found out why feelings people like hollow people. Hollow people are like those little cubbies from pre-school. I’d put my backpack in the cubby for most of the day until it was time to leave and the cubby wouldn’t feel any sadness. My backpack would feel really sad though. I am like my backpack and hollow people are like the cubbies; I put my backpack in the cubby when I need to and take it out when I have to. I feel sad like my backpack, but the cubby just sits there and acts like a cubby. Do cubbies have feeling, life? I sure hope so, cubbies are so cool. Life, do you have hollow people? I just want to be loved by hollow people. I just want to be loved by hollow people, is that so wrong life? I’m not going to ever understand why you made backpacks and cubbies, life. I’m just not.

Life, I really don’t understand you and I’m not going to ever try. I’m never going to try to forgive you because I should be allowed to be bitter. Is that so wrong, life? Is it so fucking wrong that I’m not laughing off all of your feelings? I don’t want to laugh all of the time, I’m done painting and I’m done waiting for my bruises to turn itchy. Life, you’re always going to be a giant jerk to me and I’m never going to forgive you. Do you know what the funniest thing of this whole thing is? I don’t even know if you’re listening to me life. I can’t even tell if you’re even a real “you”. Life, you can go suck a big one because I’m done trying to be nice to you.

Dear life, you’ve really thrown me through a loop. But you know what? Thank you for making me the wrinkly old soul. Thank you for making me the “special” kid in the elevator. Thank you so much for stealing things away from me. Thank you for letting me cry on the bathroom floor and letting all those kids tell me to die. Thank you for not letting my bruises ever get itchy. Thank you for making me a brilliant painter. Thank you for making me a backpack and letting me find useless cubbies.

Life, thank you giving me inspiration to wrinkle my soul and stay special, cry on the floor and wait for my bruises to get itchy and to someday find another backpack just like me.

Best Wishes,

Bella Schaefer

If You Can’t Handle My Crocs, You Don’t Deserve Me At My Hump-Me Pumps

17 Aug

I’ve heard the saying “If you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best”. I’ve also heard “If you can’t handle me at my Amanda Bynes, then you don’t deserve me at Beyoncé”. I feel like this is extremely applicable to my life, except it’s seldom that I actually live by this. But, that is what makes me who I am and for that, I am content.

In the general theme of the ‘ol blog, I’ve come up with a list of things that people need to deal with before they decide to enter my life. So if you’ve been admiring from afar, here is a list of things that will most definitely make you admire from even further. Enjoy!

My Love For Degrading and Deplorable Music ♥

“Together We Are A Powerful Force As One Mind, Body, And Soul.

Let No Evil Nor Attempt To Reduce Us Becuz Of Tha Beliefs We Hold.

And With This Love, Combined With Our Strength, We Ward Off Pain And Stress.

TECHNICIAN I Am Wholeheartedly In LIFE And In DEATH.”

If you don’t know what that is, then I suggest you do some googling before we can establish contact. Some days I have the playlist of a depressed white girl who needs a Prozac shake. Some days I have the playlist of a hay-bailing, overall-bearing farmer. Most days I have the playlist of a gender degrading drug dealer who snorts lines off of other peoples bellybuttons. How can you live with yourself do you ask? It’s simple. I breathe, blink and eat occasionally while trying to manage 8 hours of sleep a night. T-Swizzle has really never been “my thing”. After a stressful day, I prefer to put my earphones in and listen to the most degrading, ass-clappin good music I can find. I mean, I do enjoy people like Mumford and Sons and Bon Iver plenty, but I will always be loyal to Tech and Tupac. Wanna win me over with a love song? Skip that. Wanna know what would really win me over? Play the song “My Wife, My Bitch, My Girl” outside my window. I’ll be yours for life. ♥

Cats On Cats On Cats

Self explanatory. Nothing comes between me and the love I have for felines. Want to really impress me? Cat sweaters. Cat sweaters for days. Enough said.

This is just so great.

This is just so great.

This one is great, too.

This one is great, too.

This one is the best.

This one is the best.

Excessive Amounts Of Luggage

Now if you are actually mistaking this portion of the list for actual luggage, HA. HAHAHA. HAHAHAHAHAH. You rock. Let’s just keep it that way and go with that; I have a lot of luggage. Unfortunately for my own self, I have a lot of baggage. Whether the baggage be emotional or physical, I have a lot. (If I had a much boob as I had baggage…boy i’d have a world record. Sigh. One can only hope) Generally I give people a little forewarning like, HEY IM REALLY CRAZY AND BIPOLAR EVEN TWO SECONDS…THAT COOL? I feel like people never really listen to the little asterisk I give them and then blame me for being crazy after the fact they finally realized it. So here you go…

*Warning, the person you’re about to experience is subject, but not limited to the following symptoms: Mood swings, social awkwardness, needy behavior, meowing when under pressure, excessive crying, binge eating, bagel eating and the occasional accusatory statement. Please handle person with care. You have been warned.*

I wish my baggage adhered to the fifty pound weight limit.

I wish my baggage adhered to the fifty pound weight limit.

Crocs. Crocs For Days.

To be quite honest, I don’t understand why these got such a bad reputation. I think they are absolutely splendid. They come in about a billion quadrillion different colors and have built in air conditioning, not to mention that they’re extremely comfortable. If you cannot handle me at my crocs, you don’t deserve me at my hump-me pumps. Personally, I would much rather wear crocs. I’d like to think that since society has unspokenly banned crocs, I’m a hipster by bringing them back. (I also heard that if you say you’re a hipster, you’re not a hipster. Well. It was nice while it lasted) Moral of the story, I think i’m going to be wearing crocs to prom.

Proper Grammar

thats the shit I do like. i actually really do like proper grammar. if youve been a frequent reader of this blog please dont judge me if me grammar aint always good. my sorries. but I mean lets be real here. no one likes texting a complete idiot. its dumb. just dumb. plus there is nothing cute and alluring about someone who cant find the right form of youre. gets youre yours right people. oh and youre theirs. thats really annoying. you know what else is annoying……..when people dont use punctuation. that makes me mad a lot. just like no stop please now. how does it feel to read this whole thing. i bet it sucks yeah. so if yur gonna talk to me at least talk to me, at least talk to me like a normal fucking human being with a formal education. Okay? Good, glad we got that cleared up.

Well, if you’ve finished reading all of this (or at least skimmed through..jerk) props to you! So if you’re one of the five people who actually read the ‘ol blog, hit me up if you find my cat obsession and croc addiction attractive. I’ll be waiting. Like always. 24/7365. Fax me, call me, text me, mores code me, smoke signal me, telegram me, vine me, instagram me or you know, whatever works. It’s cool. I’ll be waiting.

“We accept the love we think we deserve”

That quote holds a lot of meaning and it really does speak volume about each persons self-worth (or the worth they think they hold). Do what makes you happy, love what feels right and never settle for clearance (Unless what you love is having sex with dead bodies. Then stop loving that).

In the general fashion of this blog, I’ll leave you with a home-made quote to help you with your woes.

“If the person you love doesn’t capitalize your name whilst texting, it’s not meant to be”

I Made Friends Who Aren’t Even Cats

21 Jul

At camp. Making friends (They aren’t even cats) . Eating lots of food. Writing speeches.

I’ve learned some stuff at camp and i’ll share it with you in the form of a hand-made mantra.

“If your buttcrack is sweating, you know you’re doing something right”

I’m Not Dead, Just At Camp

21 Jul

Hi. I’m here to tell you i’m not dead, i’m at camp (ha, the one title that doesn’t lead you to think i’m writing a porn script. Unless you’re a necrophiliac). I’m at speech camp to be more precise here at Gustavus Adolphus College and i’m having fun (Aka, they have lots of
. My category is a writing category and i’m so anxious to be tested as a writer. Also, I get to let out a lot of this “teen angst”.

I’ll leave you with a new mantra that I made up on the way to camp, it helped me get over my fear of being extroverted.

“Treat new people like new underwear: Show them to everyone, don’t fart or poop on them because you’ll forever tarnish them and it’s okay to have space from them sometimes and air yourself out”.

PS. Mr. Pricklepants didn’t want me to go to camp.


My Friends Don’t Have Thumbs

9 Jul

Those aren’t my friends. None of those people are my friends. First of all, they’re way too cheeky and friendly looking. Second of all, they look successful. I don’t want to be friends with someone who looks more successful than I do. Lastly, none of those people look cute and cuddly and semi-okay with licking my face from time to time (I mean that in a literal sense…that isn’t any sort of sexual innuendo).

Once again I’m  gracing your eyes with the presence of a post that has a vague title and a message with an even different meaning. If you read the title, I few things could be going through your mind.

  • This girl is a cannibal, she’s eating all of her friends thumbs.
  • All of her friends are babies who have sucked their thumbs off.
  • She isn’t friends with anything of the human kind.
  • Bella? Friends? HA. That’s a good one.

If “she isn’t friends with anything of the human kind” ran through your scattered mind, then you are correct! I’m talking CATS ladies and gents! You see, I have learned to embrace the true livelihood that cats provide. Being the awkward “angsty teen” that I am, I will provide you with some insight into my life through photographs.

This is Mr. Pricklepants and I before school.

This is Mr. Pricklepants and I before school.

This is Mr. Pricklepants and I brushing our teeth together. More like me brushing and he pokerfacing it.

This is Mr. Pricklepants and I brushing our teeth together. More like me brushing and he pokerfacing it.

This is a group shot with Shell (Pensive cat in back) and Monti (Screamo cat in front). We are just beautiful.

This is a group shot with Shell (Pensive cat in back) and Monti (Screamo cat in front). We are just beautiful.

This is Mr. Pricklepants and I on Christmas. He loves Christmas.

This is Mr. Pricklepants and I on Christmas. He loves Christmas.

What people really forget to understand is that I’m actually a really nice person who enjoys basic human interaction. For some reason I think my nervous twitching and urge to rip out all of the wallet pictures of my cats scares people away. I can’t imagine why though because quite frankly, I think all of the wallets are quite cute. You see, I’m a cat lady and I’m okay with it. Embrace it. Work it. Love it. Live it. Wait, is it normal to be a 16 year old cat lady? Is that normal? What do “normal teenagers” do?  Never mind, don’t answer that. This is basically how I see myself in about 10 years, give or take:

  • I see myself as a really eccentric person, the life of the party.



  • I see myself as a fashion mogul. Versace Versace Versace Versace.

  • Not only will I be classy, I’ll also be a business woman. I see myself maybe owning a small business?

  • I would hope that I would have settled down, but if not, I have a back up plan!

If that isn’t an exciting life, I don’t know what is, honestly. Being an out-of-the-closet Cat Lady is harder than I first imagined it. It really was AWESOME to go on the ol’ Twitter one day and see a string of comments from a bunch of girls at school. One of them said, “You’re turning into a Crazy cat lady..haha who does that remind you of?” and another one replied with “Oh god…” and inserted those Emoji’s with the gun pointing to the head. The conversation in general got over 20 retweets and countless favorites, all poking fun at my Cat Lady-ness. It hurt at first but then I’m like uh, when all of your friends leave you, what are you going to be left with? A bunch of bleach blond hair and the cellulite that covers your ass. What am I going to be left with someday? A whole boatload of cats. Who wins? I win. Bella wins.  So to all you cat haters out there, go for it. For all you cat-lover haters out there, kiss all my cats’ furry ass.

If you are a struggling cat lover, please feel free to reach out to me. I’ve been there, I know what it’s like to feel the hate of cat-haters everywhere. If you’re looking for some inspiration, i’ll leave you with a good quote I made up myself.

“Sometimes those without thumbs act more intelligent than those with thumbs”

I’ve Been Putting On My Own Underwear For 16 Years But Arthritis Still Makes Decisions For Me

24 Jun

Most days I wake up and look at my wall, read the quote that gets me out of bed almost single day and then make one of the hardest decisions of my life: should I put on underwear today? Actually, this is how I start my day (I actually do start my day like that though):

I wake up, look at my wall and remember I am in charge of how I feel and today I am choosing happiness. From there, I lay in bed and once my mind is awake I have to wait until my body is awake. First, I try to move my knees and make sure none of them locked up in my sleep. Then I try to move my fingers and stretch them so they can actually start bending. After stretching my fingers I roll over on to my stomach because my low back is a mixture of numb/tight from staying in the same position all night. After about 15 minutes of letting my body stretch and wake up, I brace myself for the first steps of the morning, my feet ache even though I haven’t been standing on them for however long I was sleeping. Look at myself in the mirror and decide whether i’m feeling like Kate Upton today or if i’m feeling like Wocka Flocka. From there I start my day and let my body decide whether it’s going to have a good day or not.

That’s called waking up on arthritis’ terms. Not my terms, it’s terms. I could totally lie and say I wake up every morning and turn my swag on after brushing my teeth with a bottle of jack, but I don’t (obviously in my head I do, I just haven’t come to terms with reality yet). But in all reality, that’s my day. I usually am pretty okay with who I am physically (actually, bigger boobs would be nice) but some days are better than others. Today is a bad day on the account of making decisions. I’m generally good with making decisions for myself but today I had to start thinking of decisions that will affect me for the rest of my life. I’m 16 years old, my decisons should look something like this:

  • Leopard or Cheetah?
  • Are putting on pants really worth it?
  • Am I going to put on makeup?
  • Is this “push-up” bra actually pushing anything up?
  • Should I start saving for a car or a boob job?
  • Am I going to DVR Pretty Little Liars or The Bachelor?

But instead, my decisions went like this today:

  • Would you rather have your arthritis be “managed” or would you rather having chronic migrains, a compromised immune system and bruises in your leg from getting your shots?
  • If you continue on this treatment once you move out, are you going to give yourself your shots?
  • If you don’t continue on this treatment, are you okay with the fact that your arthritis will not be managed?
  • If you go off of your treatment, would you rather be retired by forty because you can’t work and stopped doing your treatment when you were 16 or would you rather keep going on your treatment and not be able to work because the side effects make your life hell?
  • Would you rather strangle yourself with the underwear you didn’t put on today now or later?

Did you know google is a really scary place? I’ve always googled things when in doubt and I can honestly say i’ve become de-sensitized to most forms of graphic nudity i’m pretty sure (If you’re not sure what “syphillis” is when you’re like 12, don’t. Just don’t. Ever. Especially if there’s pictures included. Just stahp). But while having to make all of these “decisions” I have to do my research and honestly, research is scaring me so much my heart drops to my butt everytime I do. This article really put it in perspective for me though.

Q: With taking injections of methotrexate and Humira, along with naproxen and folic acid, I have had very little joint pain, swelling or morning stiffness for at least three months. Does that mean my RA and psoriatic arthritis are in remission, and can I stop medication, or at least the injections temporarily? 

A: You may well be in remission, but you should not stop medication by injection. The combination of an immunosuppressant (methotrexate) and a biologic agent (Humira) can result in a near-complete cessation of symptoms in a high percentage of people. Your excellent response with very little pain in the joints and no morning stiffness or swelling for the past three months could be classified as a “clinical” remission.

But without the injections, the diseases most likely will come back within four to eight weeks as strongly as before you started taking those medications. Most important, if the disease becomes more active, you will have an increased risk of damage to the joints. I certainly understand your desire to stop medication or use less, but you must balance it with the need to keep the RA and psoriatic arthritis under control, in order to halt the progression of your diseases.

Once a clinical remission is achieved, we attempt to lower the amount of medications while maintaining the remission. I recommend you talk to your rheumatologist about first reducing your dose of naproxen, which is an NSAID. People in clinical remission usually can discontinue their NSAID; because it does not halt the progression of RA or psoriatic arthritis, stopping it does not increase the risk for disease-related damage. Once the NSAID is discontinued, sometimes the methotrexate dose can be lowered next, but this is an individual decision to be made with your rheumatologist. Rarely can a person stop a biologic agent and maintain a clinical remission.

Paul Howard, MD, Rheumatologist”

I’ve been on methotrexate and being that it is a chemotherapy drug, it sucked ass to be put into “angsty teen terms”. No kid wants to lose chunks of their hair and throw up everyday. But being that I can’t stop my biologic agent, what is there to do? When does Bella get to experience “remission” again? While switching between methotrexate and going into a two year “remission” and then going to an IV treatment, I was so happy that I didn’t have to be poked and pricked. Humira is cool, Phil Mickleson takes it, too, so that’s pretty neat. I’m on a “celebrity” drug that isn’t cocaine. COOL. But in all honesty, I should be having to make these decisions and I HATE making these decisions. It honestly scares me knowing that someday I might not be able to pursue any of my career goals because it’s not physically obtainable. Prostitution has popped in to my mind a few times as a back up plan but let’s be real, i’m pretty sure if I can’t make it out of my own bed, I wouldn’t be able to make it out of multiple beds. (This is a disclaimer. If you can’t handle dark humor and my constant prostitution jokes, then I don’t think we can be friends). But really, I want to pursue a career in music education. Have you ever heard of a conductor who can’t conduct because her arms hurt to bad? I want to be an ASL interpreter someday…Have you ever heard of an interpreter who can’t interpret shit because her hands don’t really work? I’m telling you, prostitution is sounding better and better by the minute.

Usually people would take this as a self pity party, but there’s nothing I pity about myself. I have an awesome life and there are people that have it a hell of a lot worse than I do, but sometimes I think I deserve to vent and hate my life for at least as long as it’s taken me to write this. Oh, and speaking of writing…do you know how hard it is to type some days? Never take simple things for granted because they might be hella hard for other people. My outlook on life is simple and i’ll say it again and put it in bold print; I have a really good life and there are people who have it so much worse than I do. It’s all about how you choose to live your life and what attitude you choose to have; are you gonna have a good day or a bad day? From that moment in third grade when they said

“You’re never going to run, jump, walk or run like a normal kid ever again”

I realized I can take two paths. I can take a really negative outlook on life, complain about how my cup is half empty and never be positive OR I can take a really postive outlook on life and laugh all of my awkward medical problems away. How else do you explain to your friends when they get in your van and ask “Oh sweet, whos handicap parking placker is this?” and you have to explain “oh, it’s mine. It works great for black friday”. You have to laugh it off.  That’s what i’ve done my entire life, laugh it off because i’m the Sped.

Today was a big day for me. I am now going off of all treatments and waiting for symptoms to come back. So here’s to waiting and potentially ruining my life. Sweet-o.

I leave you with another one of my life mantras and hope that you can find some sort of wisdom from it, which could be hard because it’s a home-made mantra.

“People are always so concerned about whether their cup is half full of half empty. I’d rather be more concerned about what’s inside of the cup. You could have a cup full of pee. Does it really then matter if it’s a half-full or half-empty cup of pee? No. It’s a cup of pee.”

Insert cliche post about your first blog post.

25 May

I think I finally caved and got a blog. There were parts of me that were saying “No, don’t get a blog because people always talk about how social media is bad and it will follow you for life”. The other part was saying “Yes, get a blog because even if people never read it, you’ll be able to put all of your thoughts on the inter web”.  The last part of me was telling me to do immoral and unjust things, so I decided to cave and blog it out. I’m still really not quite sure of this whole ordeal. Is this like a diary? Clearly i’m not going to put my nitty gritty information on here. Or is this more of a “hipster-awkward-teenager-stage thing?”. Either way, I like it. Call me Jenna Hamilton. Minus Matty McKibben.. Ha. Awkward. Maybe i’ll become more sophisticated and all that jazz. Do famous people have blogs? Maybe i’ll become famous, and people will pay me to blog nonsense and endless pictures of cats. Actually, I could really get used to that. Now I should invest in some hipster glasses and TOMS. That’s what comes to mind when I think of hipsters; TOMS and hipster glasses (By hipster glasses I don’t mean girls that take pictures and duck face with the caption “Nerd glasses LOLOLOLOLOL” like no. Those aren’t nerd glasses OR hipster glasses, you’re just a bimbo who popped out the lenses of a perfectly good pair of glasses that a real hipster could have been using. just no.) I wonder if other people make that face when their blogging. Squinty eyes, looks up at ceiling with deep thought and goes WOW, I feel so intellectual. Or maybe that’s just me. Well, this now ends the celebratory first blog post.

Maisy's Mom

Dirty Diapers, Crafts and Soul Searching (But mostly diapers)

Just a dreaming teenage wallflower

If your dreams don't scare you, they aren't big enough

Matt on Not-WordPress

Stuff and things.