People say the worst thing you can to do a woman
Is break her Heart.
That stems from the verse,
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!"
Some correct it as
The worst thing you can to do a person
Is break their Heart.
Which is still incorrect.
They get that from
How much it hurts.
The ultimate change in perception that it causes.
It's devastating, yes.
But the worst thing to a person
Is violate their body.
"Your body can heal itself,"
You might say.
Sure, but your body is the one thing that you will have
For your ENTIRE life.
You grow out of clothes.
They throw them away.
You buy new shoes.
You buy new cars.
You buy new homes.
The only thing that you carry from birth til death
Is your body.
Yet to be violated by another human being?
The only thing that you can really call your own?
Has been taken?
Have your heart broken a couple of times.
And watch how you survive.
It may seem like you won't.
It may seem like you'll die tomorrow.
But many people actually cannot live
With being violated.
Some people cannot recover.
Their souls unable to cope.
And they need to find an escape.
People should say the worst thing you can to do a person
Is violate their body
A few months ago, way back in April, my boyfriend and I went on a drive around the city. It was one of those slow laid back days where we didn't want to do anything but we didn't want to stay inside. It was getting kind of late in the day and decided to head back to campus.
Now, what I failed to mention was that my boyfriend is a proud Trump supporter. He has the hats and the stickers and any other memorabilia he could get his hands on. Including bumper stickers.
Not even a week later, my boyfriend decided wear his MAGA hat around campus with some of his friends. It was a great accessory to his outfit, if I do say so myself. But that's beside the point. The point is that because I was holding his hand, I received a lot of disgusted, sad and even angry stares. Me, a very brown girl, with a Trump supporter. How repulsive! How deplorable!
No, what was deplorable was a group of girls, stopping me at the salad bar to ask if I was okay, as if to suggest that I was in some undesired captive relationship. I know, it's a big step from "are you okay?" to "is he holding you hostage?" But their line of questioning would prove their intent. Questions like, "how long were you dating before he told you?" "Would did he say to make you okay with that?" "Does he let you watch the news?" Does me let me watch the news?!? How was he gonna stop me? It's not like he had me tied up a basement and sang to me about the wonders of Trump. Not to down play such situations. Except, they overplayed mine.
I understand that people are not really fans of Donald Trump right now. I understand that some things that he says and does are not going to make everyone happy. But someone put him in office. A lot of people wanted him there. A lot of people want to keep him. I might not agree with everything my boyfriend
A co-worker of my mine, from the Lumberjack Newspaper, wrote a great a great article about it. And another co-worker did an illustration of me and my boyfriend for the story. You can check it out and read the article, here.
You know how in those diner movies or the ones where the main character works at a diner, there's always that one guy - who's usually old - who comes in every single day and orders the exact same thing.
Yeah, that's me. I'm a regular!
You see, there's a McDonald's on my way to work. Right there, just before the turn into my workplace. It was tempting me to spend money that I don't have! How dare they taint the air with the delicious smell of hash browns!
And one day, about two weeks into working at the summer camp, I had about twenty minutes of extra time before I needed to clock in. Surprisingly there was no traffic. And looking at my clock and smelling the delicious smells, I figured that I had time for a detour. That day I went through the Drive-Thru and ordered a Bacon & Egg McGriddle hold the cheese, with hash brown and a Strawberry Milkshake. Their ice cream machine was broken - go figure - so I didn't get the milkshake. In hindsight, I guess my lactose intolerant butt should have been happy that I didn't get one. But I wasn't. Nevertheless, that day begin six more weeks of McDonald's breakfast stops, and without fail every morning til my last day of work, I went and go something. Some mornings were different than others. Like when I was heading to work straight from my boyfriend's house, I would order a small French Vanilla Latte. I hate coffee, but I was in desperate need of the caffeine. Or on days that I knew I probably wouldn't eat lunch, I'd order three hash browns. And when they fixed the machine I started getting my Strawberry Milkshakes. Which would catch up to me in no less than a hour.
I'm not sure why but I have a strange love for milk.
Anyway, because I was going so often I became pretty familiar with the morning staff. Some morning I would roll up and as I began my order they would already have it punched in. Or they knew the size of my drink if I forgot to say it. I mean I went pretty frequently and I ordered the same things almost every time, so it was bound to happen. What can I say? I'm a creature of habit.
Now I only wonder if they miss me as camp is now over and I have yet to return to McDonald's.