#1 RiFF RAFF fangirl
#1 RiFF RAFF fangirl
Experienced another round of a man rubbing his crotch and making eye contact with me on the bus. This time, I yelled “you’re disgusting” at him and moved seats. That hardly subdued my rage. My first thought was that I hate being a female sometimes, but that’s not quite right. The anger should justly be pointed at men, and their vile behavior when they choose not to control themselves. It’s men, and being objectified and harassed that I really hate.
I know it’s been said many times, but really, there goes the neighborhood.
Terribly addicted to Snapchat. Send selfies, doodles, and dog videos to me at lahlahlindsey.
I know what it says about me when I ramble on about Elizabeth Wurtzel, when I relate on a very real level. I know this fascination and admiration says very few things about me that I’d be flattered to hear back. Criticisms of Lizzie, frequent and passionate, are much harder to stomach because I often feel exactly as she describes. I am acutely aware of the reasons why I find Wurtzel as an ally, but that understanding hardly promotes change or an excuse.
The obvious difference is the vast spread of age. I turn 23 in two weeks, she is 45. Her age to maturity ratio is skewed far below the acceptable norm, and this is where much of the criticism falls. Lizzie is stunted and her mentality is stuck around the year she got her first book deal.
She wrote a piece for The Atlantic that went up today, focused on how she’s managed to stay stunted. Managed, because she carries it with pride- which will surely become a quick target of critics. I believe that if a person is happy with their lifestyle and it doesn’t impose on the happiness of others, then it can’t be “wrong.”
Sometimes, maybe even a lot, I say things that are ridiculous. Sometimes I am ridiculous. There are worse things.My fear, as I’m often ridiculous and many other things Wurtzel describes in her piece, is actually the possibility of never growing up. Strange to relate and fawn over a piece titled “I’m Refuse to Be a Grown-Up,” then turn about-face. I relate to Wurtzel now, but I’d hardly say I intend to stay on her track for another 22 years. I’d really like to develop and become a bit more of a respectable person, and I wouldn’t say I find pride in the common traits Lizzie & I possess.
She sets a scary example, one that strips the myth that maturation is an automatic function of aging. What if… what if I don’t work hard enough, and I stay stagnant in my emotional state? Horror. Thus, the question I ask myself primarily is “how do I proceed to grow?” I’ve yet to examine what happens if I do not, but I can only hope I’d be as content as the example I’m seeing. We can reassess in another 22 years, I suppose. Until then, cheers to Lizzie, who says: “…I have no trouble being myself. It works well. I will die screaming.”
Fifty shades of beige