if clever people don't have kids

If more intelligent women have less motherly instincts, and wish less to have children, aren't we doomed? If the clever people aren't passing on their genes, we're just going to get more stupid as a whole.

When I think about this, I panic a little and genuinely consider having children. But it's so repulsive that I recoil from the idea immediately. The phrase that I utter in my mind is "ew fucking disgusting". I cannot ever see myself giving birth, and I've been sticking to this for over five years.

I do want to raise one or two children, though. Because there are too many orphans in this world, because too many underprivileged children never get to reach their full potentials, because I want to raise a mini clone no I'm just kidding.

Because my parents were kinda shitty and I want to see if I can be a good parent, because this world is way too illogical and stupid and I want to rectify that a little. Also it brings me joy to think of a kid I raised eventually conquering all of humanity. Lol.

I hope we quickly find and perfect a method of reproducing without actual reproduction like giving birth. Because, ew. You really want to carry a thing around for nine months and suffer hormonal imbalances? Because I'd much rather not, thanks.

angry angry phone post

What makes peop
What makes people perfectly capable of doing their jobs, but utterly inept at other things? Intelligent businessmen make stupid decisions about their wives. What makes adults so terrifyingly childish at logical tasks? What makes grown men throw tantrums and shut down the government? What makes good adults escalate minor disagreements with their children into family-splitting fights? What the fuck is it? Is it pride? Is it motherfucking emotions? Because if it is, then how fucking stupid. Again. Adults tend to be very stupid at certain things, because they think themselves correct and entitled to their entirely wrong opinion, precisely because they're adults and have lived longer or have more money. The world needs a fuckton less emotion, IMO. Isn't it better to be callous rather than inefficient? You're never going to fulfill your objective if you make every little tiny thing about your dick size. So WHAT about pride? Who the fuck cares about genuine debilitating opinions when you can easily fake a smile and get a raise? Seriously, why are people so insistent on being the supreme ruler of a rioting pack? I'd rather be the humble manager of a neat city. Do you really need to establish your superiority over your children - do you really place that over the child's physical and emotional wellbeing? Do you really place that over achieving understanding and resolving issues once and for all? All your stupid little pride does is make you look like an ass. Like, really, do you need to have a screaming argument for fifteen minutes and almost hit me, in order to establish your tenuous "right-ness"? Is it that hard to recognise that it's fucking late at night and I'm probably not going to care and thus back the fuck out of my room? Is it really necessary to unlock my room door, harrass me with unwelcome questions, get angry when I don't reply, and start a screaming match when I get angry at your assholery? Seriously. Fucking seriously!! What the fuck is WRONG with people? 23:45 and you won't back the fuck off. I'm screaming at you to get out and you think yelling at me more and obstinately (or just really stupidly) staying in my room - you think that's going to HELP ANYTHING????? Wow. Wow?? How many times must this repeat before you actually pay attention to what I say? Before you consider the other party's reactions to your actions? How the fuck did my parents survive this long? I'm not even going to attempt to mask it - dear fucking god, my parents won't stop doing stupid things and then assigning the guilt to me. They literally just blame me for everything. They talk incessantly about me not getting into university ("oh well you'll just have to go clean the streets") and then pressure me late at night about university choices and grades and scholarships ("first place is no problem right?"). ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO YOURSELF. I'm aware that everyone is to some degree hypocritical, but dude. I am AWARE and can thus SELF-CORRECT. My parents, meanwhile, seem perfectly content to remain stupid in this area and stubborning refuse to hear anything I say about their illogical behaviour. Look, do you really need excess emotions? I'd be perfectly fine with doing some unethical things to get a shortcut to Happyland. Meanwhile others get angry over ethics and don't even get that they want to go to Happyland. Like, just. What the fuck. Excess emotions are the bane of everything. I literally set aside time for crying, to get rid of my excess emotions without any detriment to my life. Why can't others do this? Why must we suffer from an affliction of emotional retardation?

some odd fiction

She lies naked on the ugly plaid sofa, stretched out languorously and unashamedly. Her ribs stick out on the side, and her hips are sharp edges of provocativeness. She wriggles her toes. You look at her calves.

There is such a huge, gaping difference between the two of you. You're dumpy. Your breasts may be big, but they sag a bit. Have little acne dots all over your face. Little cigarettes marks all over your skin.

"Hey."

Hey, she breathes, white trails of smoke rising from her mouth. She puts down the pipe.

"What's wrong?"

You want to say everything, but it's so stupid and melodramatic. A lot of things are fine, actually. She's fine. You're sort of okay. So instead you stroke the small of her back and run your hands through her messy, tangled brown hair.

But then you start crying. Sobbing soundlessly, round tears dripping down your face. The small roll of fat around your waist moves as you suck at the air, push it out, suck it in again desperately. She wraps her arm around you but it doesn't help it doesn't help. You don't want to cry. You don't and there's no reason to cry but you can't stop you can't stop can't stop can't stop.

There are no spaces for sentences in the cavity of sadness inside your chest. Everything runs together in one line and you're so ANGRY. So angry so frustrated that you just can't stop fucking crying. You hate it you hate everything you hate the people who scooped out your centre.

She lays her head on your shoulders, moving off the sofa, and murmurs, "It's okay, it's okay." And she starts crying too, her brown eyes filling up and crystal tears sticking her lashes together, and you know she's crying for you, for your sadness, for your emptiness for everything that's happened to you except for her.

She's the only BIG good thing that's ever happened to you. There are little ones like babies smiling at you and people complimenting your makeup and salesgirls giving you extra ice cream but only SHE. Only she is permanent. And you want to stop crying for her, but you can't and hearing her be sad for you makes you even sadder and you cry, wrapped around her and she wraps around you and she kisses you through your ugly tears.

"Sorry, s-sorry," you blubber, but her skinny fingers find their way to the back of your bra and she takes it off, presses her hand against your skin, shifts even closer to you. She kisses you again, again, harder, again.

It stops hurting. You can breathe. The tears go away, and you look into her brown eyes, brown brown brown. She kisses you. You kiss back. It stops hurting.

something angry written some time ago

The tone in which I say something should not invalidate the content of what I say.

A day or two ago my brother hit the back of my head. He did have reasons - not that it was sufficient for him to hit me, though. My parents scolded me for yelling at him. They told me to calm down and keep quiet (shut up) while they talked to him gently. They screamed back at me when I got angry at that, while my brother stood around getting not scolded at all.

Fine. Okay. I was so fucking done. I told my father that my brother had to have some long term punishment so he'd remember what he did was wrong. I said he shouldn't be allowed to use the iPad for a week.

Maybe it wasn't the most appropriate punishment, but my father didn't even do the barest minimum. He told my brother that he wouldn't be able to use the iPad the next day until noon. And when my brother demanded that I be held to the same standards my father was kind of "ummmm uhhhh okay", which he didn't really mean. 

The next day my brother kicked up a huge fucking fuss about the "no iPad" thing, and demanded for me to not use my iPad either. My father hemmed and hawed and never even told my brother why he was being punished - or the fact that he was actually being punished. In the end my father caved and told me to keep my iPad, which sends really terrible messages to my kid brother: 

1: If I hit people I basically get a scolding and nothing else

2: If I whine enough I get my way

3: It's okay to hit people????!?!??

And today my brother hit my lower back. Again, he did have some reasons. Again, totally not enough for him to hit me. When my mother came back home, she scolded me for yelling. She told my brother to pack his schoolbag and brush his teeth.

And when I got angry at her for doing a total of nothing about this issue, she said that she's my mother, she feels my pain. She said that it can't be done in a day. She said that if I watch how I speak to my brother, then it might be better.

1: Fuck you. I'm the one getting hit with all the strength and centrifugal force of a muscular, slightly overweight eight year-old who people think looks eleven. Don't give me that bullshit. It doesn't help deal with the issue, it doesn't make me feel better.

2: Of course my brother can't be made non-violent in a single day. Which is exactly fucking why I've been trying to get you to do something about it for eight years. Don't fuck with me. Don't give me fucking platitudes while you continue to sit on your fucking arse and do nothing.

3: Should my brother be learning not to be violent? Or should I be learning how to make myself softer so that people won't hit me? Maybe both. But I hold that I should stand my ground, be angry when I am - and when some bastard hits me, hit him back with all my strength. At least then I'll know he's a bastard and stay the fuck away from him or maybe report him to the police, instead of, you know, working my way around this dickbag and strangling my own life and personality.

She wouldn't talk about the issue. She kept offering useless fucking consolations and not scolding my brother for hitting me. She told him to brush his teeth, pack his bag, pick up his pencilcase - at that point he was literally right beside us and there was nothing easier than bringing it up and scolding him right then and there - and basically she showed not the least intention to scold him or punish him in any way.

She kept telling me to sound nicer when talking to people, though. Hm. Very important. I was so disgusted that I had to walk away. My brother had been hitting me for a long time, and no one wants to do anything about it. I can't be angry? I can't? How fucking dare you.

Listen: [the tone in which I say anything] in no way invalidates [the content of what I'm saying].

I put it in brackets and bolded it so people can clearly see the non-relationship between those two things.

If anyone believes otherwise, they are clearly not worth your time. Maybe sounding nicer might persuade more people, maybe sounding more demure might get you a little raise, but the fact remains that the tone does not invalidate the content. 

Would you talk gently to someone who physically assaults you? Or would you be so angry that it'd be hard to hold yourself back from hurling insults and giving him a good few slaps? Would you be expected to be nice to someone who hurts you? Or would you be expected to be angry? 

Not saying that my brother assaulted me or anything. But the fact that he resorts to violence casually is extremely worrying. And my parents won't do anything about it. They scold me for raising my voice instead. 

Please learn something from this post. You need to deal with the real fucking issue, not some minor symptom that arises from the issue.

busy busy

went on stupid nature trail or hike or whatever. walked ten miles. ouch. went to the dentist after that because my tooth cracked. like, AGAIN. feet extremely ouch.

went to cover for my school's concert thing. very dehydrating i drank one full bottle of water in one go. THREE TIMES. 1pm to 9pm wow hardworking.

mainly dance photos bc the string ensemble and chinese orchestra made for v boring photos cause they only sat down and played.