Motivation

This is kind of terrible and immature of me, but I don't care. When have I ever cared.

Sometimes, I like to get on Facebook and stalk people that I haven't seen in a long time because that is the true purpose of Facebook. As I was sitting at my computer tonight, I realized we are now living in the year 2013, which just so happens to be the fifth year since my high school graduation, which generally denotes a 5-year reunion, right?

So I thought to myself, "Let's go check out what all the cool kids are up to. They might be saying something about a reunion that I likely wouldn't be able to go to anyway." And here's what I found out:

99% OF THE COOL KIDS HAVE DELETED ME FROM FACEBOOK

Presumably because I took up too much of their valuable newsfeed space whilst not talking about the party I didn't go to last night or how much I'm not going tanning ever.

These are the times I feel motivated to really do something with my life. As whiny and childish as it is, I think to myself: Fuck them. I don't need them, they don't need me, but I'll show them someday. I'll be big and famous and they'll come crying to me for money and popularity and I'll say, who's the cool kid now, biotch? 

Or, I'll just ignore them. Which is the more likely scenario of the two (even though a confrontation like this will most likely never actually happen).

But then I have to remember that I'm no longer in high school, I have moved on, and I've made friends who may or may not have been the cool kids in their own high schools. And they will never have to know I wasn't, even though it probably wouldn't matter to them anyway.

Belated disclaimer: There is that small 1% of the cool kids who were (and are) actually cool, and who will talk to anyone, regardless of caste. These folks are a-okay in my book, and for the record, are still my FB pals.

Conversate

Okay, so, while writing a poem earlier, I used the word "conversate" because sometimes I don't really care about proper English. I mean, obviously I mostly don't give a damn because I am constantly raping it. But my spell checker put that glaring red line underneath it that means "that is not a word, you dumb fuck" and so I had to stop (collaborate and listen), look it up, and sort of decide to myself whether bastardizing my native tongue was worth a rhyme.

In the end, I decided yes. Because fuck you. And with poetry I mostly don't care, I straight-up make up words sometimes. Also, I read this article with which I mostly couldn't disagree. Basically it's saying that language is primarily a means of communication, and so long as we all understand each other...what's the big deal? Just because it isn't "correct" doesn't make it not a word. The fact that people use it in the first place makes it a word. Because words are made by people to communicate a...thing. Yes, this is a winning post from me, I know. Me no good with words.

But then of course, there's that other side of me that's all, "Learn English, Muthafucka!" when I hear my peers say something like, "Can you borrow me that pen?" or type, "I here you were part of they're group." I want to peel their faces off. Because apparently I can ruin proper grammar, but no one else is allowed.

So, I guess what I'm saying here is...um...I'm grammatically bi-polar?