Diary of Awkward Jane

Got a question? Ask it here.   Libra. Balance. Artistic. Loving. Logical.

Taurus. Persistent. Stubborn. Stable.


Victim Shaming

I’m sitting on my couch and I am absolutely horrified at the victim shaming that I just saw on TV. The Doctors TV show is a well sought out source of information and entertainment that my family and I watch on a regular basis. Normally, I drone out the words that I hear and stay in my own little world, but when they decided to do an episode about bullying I found myself interested.

For those of you who are not informed on the case you can fine the episode at the link below. A young biracial girl wanted hair like her grandmothers, long red flowing locks that could be compared to that of the Disney character Ariel; her grandmother wanted to give her the opportunity to feel special and took her to get a weave put in. The first day this young girl went to school, students were telling her she was “stupid” because she had a “wig” on. They pulled her hair so hard she was coming home in tears. Despite her grandmother contacting the Principle to stop this from happening, they informed her that they could do nothing about it and that she shouldn’t expect anything different since the hair was such a drastic change. This behavior continued until the young girls hair was LITERALLY ripped from the girls scalp causing scar tissue damage to the hair folicles.

This is a very standard case of racial discrimination and bullying, something that our school systems have yet to address as a real issue; but, that wasn’t what horrified me most. No, what upsets me is that when this family was brought on the show and interviewed, the first question that was asked to the Grandmother was “Do you feel responsible?”

Guilt is a human emotion, without it we often do not have a moral compass, but for this young woman to have audacity to ask a Grandmother who was simply embracing her granddaughters differences to be pointedly asked if she was responsible was an example of victim shaming.

That’s the kind of stuff that makes me angry. And I’ll bet the school STILL didn’t take care of the bullying that was occuring.

— 1 month ago with 16 notes
#antibullying  #victimshaming  #this is why i need feminism 
October 29th

I am really hard on myself. Incredibly, utterly critical of my appearance, the way I think, the way I act- even the way I speak. I question everything about myself down to my natal chart. I’ve picked apart my birth chart time and time again, attempting to find the missing piece of the puzzle, “Who am I?”

And I didn’t get far with that (not that I’ve stopped trying or anything). I’ve found a lot of indicators for ambition, success, sex, even laziness (of which I can agree to all of these factors), but nothing about being so self-critical. It’s not something I grew up with, not something I remember noticing as a younger child. As a matter of fact, it didn’t show up until I was in my late teens. So as I worked today, I pondered the meaning of life and my critical nature and BAM I had an epiphany.

My Mother.

My mother is a Libra-Scorpio Sun with a Scorpio moon followed by more Scorpio with some more Scorpio on top of that. Me? I am a Libra Sun with a Taurus moon. Emotionally, I respect her. Intellectually, she can go fuck herself cause she’s bat shit crazy. 

For those of you who don’t understand the archetype, you can always learn more about it through this website: http://www.astrotheme.com/

In a nut shell, they’re stubborn, intelligent, and critical. They don’t like you, they will FIND something wrong with you. My Mother and I were practically born to dislike each other.

I remember growing up in her home, knowing my Mother would find something wrong with my chores. It was never not following through (although, sometimes that was an issue too) but rather I grew up constantly afraid to fail to my mother’s expectations. Which I did. Brutally.

I was about 18 or 19 when I finally said to myself, “I need to figure out what makes me happy, before I can make someone happy too.”  A line which not only applied to my relationship with my Mother, but to other relationships as well.  Now at the ripe age of 21, I no longer give a fuck about her expectations and only strive to meet mine. Which are now higher than normal.

I think my high-standards come from trying to live up to her expectations. I easily forgive others for messing up, but when I do I beat myself up about it for days. In some ways, it is a representation of my relationship with my parental unit played out in my own mind, day after day.

I normally don’t get so emotional and deep in thought about such a trivial thing, but yesterday my boss sat me down and gave me a lecture on how hard I’m being with myself. It made me stop and re-think myself. Analyze another perspective of me.

I’m so incredibly one-sided and it’s so very hard to see myself clearly. Some things are easy. Intellect is easy. Emotions are not. I tend to drown them in booze or smoke them out (not healthy, but one problem at a time right?). I figure I’ve got to work on a lot of issues. Self-matyrdom being one of them now.

Now for the weekly question. Send your answers to my inbox and I’ll mention the best ones in next weeks post.

Talk you guys soon!

Always, 
Awkward Jane

Does anyone else have high-standards? If so, do you think you were born with them or were they engraved in your mind throughout children?

— 8 months ago
#high-standards  #parents  #teenagers  #journaling  #awkwardjaneblog  #awkwardjanedoe  #aw 

I’m takin’ back my love
I’m takin’ back my love

I’ve given you too much.

— 9 months ago with 1 note
#ciara  #enrique iglesias  #takin'backmylove 

Found the cutest little niche in the woods today. I pulled out my blanket, kicked off my shoes and got stoned. Of course, it was all to become one with nature, but I’ll admit I took a nice, fat nap ad midst my humbling servitude to the Mother Earth. Hope everyone else is having as good of a day as I am (:

— 10 months ago
#stoned  #gothigh  #nature  #mother earth  #nature niche 
The Jealous Girlfriend

The passion between them flowed effortlessly- this was no ebb and flow as it was with her other lovers. This was a volcanic explosion building, air escaping between cracking rock as it avalanched into the middle of her life. His lips on hers, his teeth biting and caressing, teasing and sucking. She could barely contain the pleasure that coursed through her body and he raked his hands over her full breasts that were still confined by the cheap, leopard print bra. She rarely felt beautiful, but when he touched her this way, it was all she could feel. His lips latched onto her pulse point and sucked in rhythm to her rapid heart beat. Then he brought his skilled mouth back to hers and threw her into a delirium as their lowers bodies ground into one another, layers of clothing preventing them from doing what they wished.

I wonder if Nikki taught him to kiss this way, the thought suddenly flew through her mind, bringing her lust induced state down a notch. Why the fuck am I thinking about her right now? This is me and Martin, not Martin and Nikki. She strained to throw the unwanted thought out of her head as he continued to rub circles across her lower back, occasionally tracing the pattern of her sensitive tattoo that lined her mid back.

Did they make-out this way? Again, the subconscious though rolled through her mind, tearing her heart apart. God, I should stop this. I can’t make-out with him when I’m hurting so bad.

Maybe the physical intimacy was too soon. She didn’t know why the knowledge had cut her so deep, to know that her fiancee had kept his relationship with his best friend a secret from her. Granted, a relationship that had been before they knew each other. But why did he have to tell her? She had thought all those intimate moments of kissing and touching had been their’s and their’s alone. Mary had been his first partner is sex, but she hadn’t been his first partner in heart. He hadn’t told her there had been another.

Physically she was still engaged in the make-out session on the couch in their living room. Mentally she had pushed herself away. She couldn’t have this intimate moments with him anymore without thinking SHE had been there first. Nikki. A person she had been friends with. A girl who had cheated on her boyfriend, first with her fiancee and then with another man.

I feel sick, and Mary did. A sick rolling feeling sliced through her.

She stood up, and turned away from Martin.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I can’t stop thinking about you and her,” Mary replied quietly, “It’s all I can see.” She rubbed her arms, trying to erase the chill she felt corroding her soul. “I can picture her on top of you, grinding on you the way that I just was. Kissing you with passion like I just was,” tears well up in her eyes, “what is wrong with me?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you so bad,” he said rubbing his hands over his face, obviously no longer aroused. She had doused that fire for them both. “I don’t know how to fix this,” sorrow etched into his face, beautiful brown eyes furrowed tight. Martin is so sweet, she thought, but I can’t do this.

And Mary walked away. Walked out. Unable to control the emotions.

Only she didn’t do that. Mary bottled her emotions, put them into a box to analyze later. She made love to the man who she believed was her soul mate. Who did whatever he could to make her happy. And the thought of Nikki laying in the bed with him the way she did, slithering into her restless dreams.

The End.

— 10 months ago
#the jealous girlfriends  #jealousy  #short story  #real stuff  #awkwardjanedoeblog