One day the scars of the trauma will fade the way the scars on my knees have, to the point that they’re damn near invisible, only noticeable if you’re squinting and know what you’re looking for.
Recently, I rewatched South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut — multiple times, to be exact — and realized what a satirical masterpiece it is. The movie is as old as me, but the core message underneath the various shits, assholes and uncle fuckers is one that still speaks to modern society: America places the blame for its problems on everyone but itself.
After my dad left, my mom couldn’t listen to love songs, especially sad ones. One that always got to her was “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac, and for the longest time I couldn’t understand why. But I think I get it now.
If there is ever a Fight Club remake, “DAYWALKER!” deserves a spot on the soundtrack. The song has a slightly scary, yet edgy energy that gives the song a “moments-before-the-slasher-kills-his-next-victim” vibe mixed with a high speed chase feel.
Lisa herself is an enigma. She is a spunky, smart, brash young girl who knows what she wants, and will not stop until she gets it. For the most part, television hadn’t seen a female character like that until Lisa Simpson made her debut. As a wide-eyed child, hell even now as an adult, Lisa Simpson is everything I want to be and more. She’s an eight-year-old swinging around a saxophone as big as she is, she’s running for class president — she’s the animated role model girls like me have looked up to for decades.
Both Healy and Kanye West have used their Twitter accounts to share personal beliefs, which, as celebrities, are always going to be in the limelight. Both musicians use their platforms personally and professionally, which can come back to haunt them. The God complexes that both stars have, coupled with public backlash, could very easily lead to their downfalls.
In the auditorium of one the local high schools, I stood next to my dad inside the poll. “I don’t care who wins,” he said, looking at me. “You pick.” Nine-year-old me stood there, wide-eyed, next to my dad. I get to pick? I get to vote?
Could a One Direction reunion be in the works? I mean, your band only turns ten once (let’s just ignore that the hiatus has lasted as long as the band did as a group).
I branded myself on being the token fat girl. Yeah, I would still get nasty looks no matter what I ate — but fuck it, I was having fun. I had friends, and, in my opinion (which I later questioned) “stylish” clothing. Sure, I wasn’t skinny, but that didn’t matter. Grandma didn’t treat me any different, and that’s all that mattered.