I love having these moments.

Yesturday, after my Philosophy of Education class, I had an "aha!" moment. We are starting to touch on female philosophers, which is what I have been meaning to get into, but have been so busy I have not had the chance, until now.

I have been known to be a liberatarian when it comes to political views, libertarian with a left wing twist. We were talking about Mary Wollstonecraft, who was a libertarian herself. I went up to my teacher and started asking her questions about Mary. She smiled and said I should look into Emma Goldman, who we are going to talk about next week. So, after the class ended, I scooted to the library where I checked out one of her books.

I think I have found my new favorite philosopher. Nietzsche and Russell are my two main favorites, but Goldman... holy shit. She did stuff that I have always wanted to do. Which is when I had my "aha" moment. A female anarchist atheist who didn't call herself a feminist but fought very passionalty for female rights. BINGO.

I wrote a 4 page rant a few weeks back on how much Christanity is complete bullshit, and how females should not take societys shit anymore. I'm still editing it, but after I feel confident enough to publish it, I hope to throw it out there. It angers me so much that the gimmick that McCain has chosen to be his Vice President is a female... but is not for female rights. Please, do not insult my intelligence. Sarah is NO Hillary. I would rather have Hillary then Sarah. Hillary actually fights for female rights, not aganist them. I just don't get it why females aren't for protecting their rights. It boggles my mind.

I was up until 330am conversing a few texts with my ex-fiance who decided to text me last night. It got me thinking to when I started getting this way with everything. I know when I was a teenager it started, but it was mostly teenage angst. It was after I was constantly screwed over by men that I started to group my thoughts, and started fighting for a cause. I have a reason to rant, to fight. I am constantly looking for the truth. Religion is not truth. The government is a lie. Don't live for anyone else, but yourself.

I refuse to be silent anymore. As the days go by, more and more do I feel the need to freakin yell at the top of my lungs about how fucking retarded our country, our world is being. I want to help change it. I want to try and open eyes to see what is happening. It's like Platos Cave. I have been set free from the cave, seen the truth, and want to tell the fuckers still mesmorized by the shadows on the wall to turn around, come with me, see the truth. Stop living in a fantasy world and start living in reality. Wake up, take a chance, break free.

"Someone has said that it requires less mental effort to condemn than to think."
THINK: It's Not Illegeal Yet.

Is it okay if I bitch about my mother?

'Cause I'm gonna do it anyways. Okay, a little advice to you, if you see your son or daughter struggling with something they've never done before, don't bark at them, "Don't you know anything?!" Instead, how about you offer to help them? "Oh, wait hun, let me help you with that."

I mean come on! I was doing laundry at my house and I have one of these really adorable sweaterdress' that are in style now. I wore it out a few weeks ago, and I finally have enough things to make a "hand-wash" only load to wash it with, since I don't have a lot of delicate fabrics. So I take it out of the washing machine and it's still soaking wet. I go over to try and put it on a towel to absorb some of the excess water and I get water on the floor. Mother looks over at me and yells at me, "Don't you know anything?!" And, of course me being the bitch I am, start yelling at her to shut the hell up and how I know plenty of things. I was about to tell her to grow up and go get a goddamn college degree, when I decided to try and be nice and ask her, "Hey, look. How about instead of barking at me, and telling me something that we both know is false to try and help me?" So she helps me with the towel, and lays it out on the rack to dry. Mind you, in silence.

Really Mom? Did I have to just tell you to do that? She also told me that, "Wow, you have got quite a mouth on you!" NO SHIT. I live alone with you and you're such a goddamn bitch now a day I have to have a mouth to fight back to your constant attacks. For example: politics. The last presidental debate, dinosaur McCain was speaking and I started mimicking him and, get this, she tells me to have an open mind.

Wait, hold the fucking phone, are you serious? You just told WHITNEY KATHERINE to have an open mind? Are you fucking serious? So, I bark back, "Are you serious, Mom? You just told your own daughter, who you know is more open minded then you, to have an open mind? Have you done any research on this campaign? Have you read what they are saying? Do you even know what these people stand for?" She was silent. I walked away.

Then there's Sarah Palin. Holy Jesus fucking Christ. I told my mother when Sarah was on the news how I didn't like her, and how I thought she was stupid. My mother barked at me, "She's not stupid! She's smart!" I almost died right then and there. "Have you seen her resume? Have you heard her speak? Have you read what she is saying?" She was silent, again. And I walked away.

GAH, someone shoot me now. My Dad is home though, and I tell him all this and he smirks because he knows I'm right. I really wish I could move in with my Dad, but he lives in New Hampshire and soon my Mom will be joining him, so it's kind of useless.

I feel like my "mouth" is a result of all the shit I took from her when I was a teenager. I'm sick and tired of dealing with her crap, so instead of taking the blow, I send a blow back, which usaully causes her to fall down instead of me.

Oh, yeah, she's doing fine from her surgery. The constant attacks on me have become daily, if it isn't obvious. I don't think she likes it how she doesn't have any control over me anymore. Hun, I'm 21, there's nothing you can do. You can't ground me, so good luck trying.

I really can't wait to move out. I'm sorry I didn't get married when i was 19. I'm almost done getting my bachelor's and then I'll be getting my masters, and possibly a PhD. I'm sorry I have more fun then you do when you were my age. I'm sorry you don't even have an associates when I keep telling you to use your experience from the library to use it towards getting some sort of degree in library science. Stop bitching how you want me to be a librarian because you can't be one. Yes, you can. Just get your ass back to school. It doesn't matter if you're 59. I have friend's whose parents are starting their masters and they're in their 50's as well. Stop being embarassed and just go for it. Be strong for gods sake. I hate seeing weak willed people, but that's a whole different story.

Kay, after a quick dinner break, I have admitted to my parents how I have been researching womens literature intensly (mind you, I'm taking a course in womens writing), and how I have become interested in the civil rights movement. My Mother went into the other room when I started talking about Malcolm X, and yelled back, "He was radical!" "Is that why you don't like him, Mother?" "Yeah." Oh okay, so someone fights for what they believe in and speaks their mind so you don't like them. Good job being open-minded, you son of a bitch. But anyways, my Dad sat with me and listened to me and said his point of view, which was he was really glad that I was starting to get into these things. He knows that when I believe in something, I research it and am passionate about it. I search for answers, I am engrossed in truth. I'm not an idiot, okay? My Father knows that and still refers to me to his mother when I get like this. Another thing is that when I start talking about grad school my Mom doesn't pay attention, but yet my Dad does. I just find that funny.

Oh yeah, my Dad was trying to explain baseball to me before dinner. The Rays and Red Sox are going at it to see who plays Philly in the world series. I mean, if I live in Boston I hafta be a fan of the Red Sox. My sister is a huge Yankees fan so this should be fun :) I mean, I'm a huge hockey fan, have been this way since I was in 8th grade, and my team has been the Red Wings for as long as I can remember. Yzerman is going to be coaching the 2010 Olympics, fyi. Soo glad I got his jersey before he retired...

To finish this off, since I have to go get ready to go out, I would like to say that according to dictionary.com, the Spanish word of the day is direccion, which means direction; address. I don't know why, but I find it amusing that they have a spanish word of the day.

One step at a time.

My mother had surgery today. She's almost 60, so I was a little anxious about her going to get her procedure done. She woke me up at 530 this morning telling me that my father, who is home until Sunday, and her were leaving. She seemed in good spirits, and since it was almost 6am I didn't really think much of it until I heard the car pull out of the drive way.

I remember thinking all of these horrible thoughts, because that's who I am, always looking on the dark side of things, and I actually started crying. I cried myself back to sleep and woke up at 840, and I had class at 905. Of course I was late to class because I had slept through my alarm, but my professor is nice and understanding, and he patted my back and smiled at me.

Yes, she's fine. When my father called me around 1 this afternoon he sounded tired, but the surgery went picture perfect and she was in recovery. I went back to my lunch table, and I wanted to cry with joy. I know I wrote an entry about my father, but my mother, well, she's my mom...

Anyways, my father told me that he would call me when she got settled into her room, which was at the start of my 4pm philosophy class. I told my teacher I was expecting a call and how my mother had had surgery and she gave me the okay to walk out of the room when the call came in. I fucking love how understanding my professors are. So my father said she was recovering well, and my eyes began to swell up again after I hung up. I walked back into class, sat down smiling, and Christine looked over at me and gave me smile back because she knew.

At dinner, I called my sister, who picked me up from my school and myself, her, and her two-year-old all went to visit my mother. When I saw my mother I almost started to cry. I don't think I've ever been so happy before to see my mother, I gotta be honest about that. So I told her about my day and how awesome school is going this semester (which I will touch on later) and she kept smiling at me.

When I went back to school, I called Kim where she let me into her dorm where I laid on her bed while she read at her desk. I had my iPod pulled into my ears, and I started to cry silently. I don't think I've said this, but these past few weeks have been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster ride. I started dosing off, until Kim and I went to go take part of the movie English club was putting on that night. I didn't stay long, because I had one hell of a day and I really needed to relax. But tonight, on the ride home while I was speeding past cars on the expressway, I was listening to the radio and I felt relieved.

I know things aren't as great as they could be, but goddammit I can practically smell the Boston air in my nostrils. School is going amazing so far this semester. I'm becoming a very active member of the English club, cause, well, it's my major and it's about damn time I joined a club! I also am looking forward to doing the Vagina Monologues again at my school. I bought the 2008 edition of the book to get a feel of the monologues, even though I was in them last year. I was the sad side of the monologue "My Vagina Was My Village" which was amazing. All of the girls were amazing and I look forward to working with the ones that do it again. I've already got two monologues picked out I'd like to possibly perform, but it's a secret and I have no clue if I'll get one of them haha.

I say the Boston air because I think I have a top pick for graduate school. Emerson College looks very promising. Since we know I'm an English major, I know exactly what I want to do with my degree. I want to go into Publishing and Writing. Of course I like to write, I mean holy crap I write better then I talk most of the time, and I remember when I was transferring from my community college to a 4-year everyone kept asking me, "What the hell are you going to do with an English degree with a concentration in writing?" Well, there's your answer. Betch.

I look back at all the professors that have told me how my writings are different, and have praised my writings, and have encouraged me to get into writing because I have talent in that area. Not just writing, but in editing. C'mon, I'm a grammar nerd. When someone sends me an email and there are no periods, semi-colons, or commas in it at all, I don't even read it. You seriously just sent a senior English major that piece of shit? Okay, send it back to me when you learn how to type properly.

I know I could never be a teacher, or a professor. I was looking over Kim's shoulder tonight, and looking all the stuff she has to learn about different exercises and methods and this and that... ugh. I also have my father's patience level, which is very... miniscule.

OH! This brings me to another reason why my professors are awesome.

A professor I had last semester for creative writing is an amazing lady. She's a published author, but a majority of the professors at my college are published (which drives me furthur to get published in more literary magazines). I was helping out with English club last night. A group of British actors from Cambridge, UK called CAST came to our college during their tour to perform Henry V. While we were setting up, this professor approached me and started asking about my grandfather, who was not doing well at the end of last semester. I ended up missing a few of her classes to be by his side and to help my grandmother out. I told her that he was doing better, but he is wheelchair ridden now. I also told her about my sister's car accident over the summer where she totaled her car with my nephew in the car. I told her how I saw her get unloaded from the ambulance (which hit me really hard) and how I stayed with her, drove her home, helped her out until she was okay on her own. I called off work for her too, I remember that. And then I told my professor how my mother was getting surgery today, and how I was nervous and this and that. She looked at me, and started telling me how I was one of the most caring people she knows. "It's a very good quality to posess, and you have it." I didn' t know what to say, so I bowed my head and thanked her. She went on though, briefly, and I explained to her how, at first, I wanted to become a nurse, since I like helping people. She smiled and said, "you went from a nursing major to an English major?" We laughed, and I replied that, "I found my nitch." I had no clue that something I found to be therapeutic would acutally get me somewhere in life... hopefully...

I mean, I love physiology. Anatomy is what got me. Memorizing all those bones, yea, not gonna happen. In my prime, I could describe how the respiratory system works flawlessy. I could also, in my prime, tap dance like a freakin Rockett. Ah, the good ol' days.

Now I'm an English nerd, who actually is enjoying reading Robinson Crusoe for one of my classes and is reading Pride and Prejudice for another. It's like 19th century chick lit and I'm a sucker for chick lit.

Oh, and get this, my minor is philosophy. Yeah, I have no clue what I'm going to do with that either. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

I titled this entry "One Step At a Time" because, yes, of that dumb Jordin Sparks song that gets stuck in my head every time I hear it, but mostly because I agree. It all takes one step at a time. No, I'm not posting lyrics. Sorry. I'm too tired to post them.

Speaking of tired, I think I'm going to retire for the night. I think this entry is long enough, and it makes up for me not writing in a while. I'm a busy girl with school, work, babysitting, and trying to enjoy my college years before I hit the real world.

Ciao!

Daddy's girl.

My father is coming home today. I'm extremely excited about this because I have not seen him in 3 weeks.

No, my parents are not divorced. My father lost his job around christmas time last year, and the only job he could find was in New Hampshire. So he moved there around June. Since my sister lives on her own with her child, my mother and I are to fend for ourselves in the house that I grew up in. I hafta admit, it's been hard because my mother and I have never seen eye to eye on certain things, but over these past months she's been more understanding then she ever has been towards me. Her only beef with me is that she doesn't like it when I don't come home at night because she doesn't like to be alone in the house by herself, so I usaully try to be home at a reasonable time.

Whenever she gets too overwhelming for me, I'll call my father up and he'll calm me down and give me some suggestions as to what to do. Like one thing is that my mother thinks she can do everything around the house by herself. I'll offer to help, but she'll shoo me away and it gets very frustrating when I see her overwhelmed with the amount of work she has to do and she won't let me help.

We're going to get the upstairs bathroom re-done soon, so my mother can sell the house in the spring and move in with my father. Everyone looks at me and asks, "where are you going to live?" Well, the answer is that I'll get an apartment for the last semester of my undergraduate studies. I'm planning on moving out of state when I graduate since there is pretty much nothing left for me around here. Of course I'll miss my family and friends, but I'm so sick and tired of living around here. I've lived here my whole life, and my job, if I still have it, gives me the opportunity to just about move anywhere there's a store.

Back to my father, the whole reason why I started writing this entry, is the fact that where my mother leaves off he takes over. When I was learning how to drive, my mother would freak out every time I would go too fast, or make a turn a little too sharp, but my father, when he would take me out, would just comment on it.

My father is probably my favorite person in my life. He supports me in everything I do. He actually will sit down and talk to me about my future, and the possible schools I want to get into. He'll talk to me and actually want to know how I'm going to get the goals that I have set. My mother, I know for a fact, pretty much laughs at me at points. My father will make sure that I know that "I'm very proud of you," because I think he knows more than I know that I'm going to mount to something.

Here's a funny story. It was around 1:30 in the morning, and I was just coming back from a bar and going over to Bryan's house. I was starting to feel the drinks I had that night, and as Bryan and I start talking in my car, my cell phone starts vibrating. I look at the screen, and it says "Home" is calling me. So I answer it, and it's my father. He begins yelling at me and wondering why I'm not home yet. I tell him, "because I told you I'd be home around 2." He starts going off on me because he's afarid that I'll make mother worry and some shit like that. I mean, I hafta give him credit, he was leaving a few days from that night, so I start crying because, well, I'm tipsy as all hell, and he goes on for about 15 minutes. Bryan, who is sitting patiently sitting next to me, is dying to hold me and comfort me, but can't because of the arm rest in the way. After my dad is done yelling at me, I say to him, "ya know, all the yelling you just did to me... I could be home by now."

The next day, I'm up and about, and my father has to go to the store for some last minute items. So he asks if I would like to come with him. I agree, and grab my purse and he hands me the keys. Now, mind you, my father just bought a new Audi A4. His way of making up his last night tantrum is by letting me drive his Audi to the store. Pure awesome.

Now that I'm done being sidetracked, he knows I'm going to mount to something because of how strong I am. I'm not looking to get married, or looking to have a child anytime soon, I'm looking to let myself grow, and maybe along the way if I find someone like that again then I'll actually think about it. After you're engaged once, you look at things a little differently. Or, at least, I do.

Every girl needs her father, and I just so happen to be one of those girls.

Look at what we have here.

Hey, what can I say, I finally have one of these.

Basically, I'm a writer who has a lot to say. I'm sick and tired of having all of these writings loaded up onto my computer and not having the guts to actually share them with anybody. Every time I do share them though people enjoy them. Even if their dark, or on the lighter side, people think their good.

I hope to someday become published into some bigger named magazines. I have already been published in my school's literary magazine.

I'm currently an English major, and am hoping to get into grad school to concentrate more intensively on the writing, composition, and rhetoric of English. I'd like to go into publishing or editing. As much as I would love to write as a full time career... well, let's see how things go.

I named this "the rantings of a 20something year old bitch" because it's pretty much true. My rantings and writings may seem to be a bit bitchy at times. It's not by choice that I'm bitchy though.

I feel oddly content with this. A smile has crept across my face, along with the constant sniffling that I seem to be doing. Gotta love hay fever.

I feel like I should say more, but won't. Porcupine Tree's "Synesthesia" is putting me in a mood of slumber.

Yeah... I'll write more later.