The more I give, the less I get back

Who are we kidding when we say that if you give and give and give, you will get something in return? Good karma? When will this good Karma actually come? Where is this delivery…can someone tell me date it will be arriving, because I have been waiting for this. Unfortunately, no one has this answer, eh? Nobody can actually tell me when this will happen.

The other day I was sitting at home, in my apartment thinking…you know, I actually have no idea where I could be next year, let alone next week…I could win the lottery, or get hit by a car. I could be married (although very unlikely, you must have a boyfriend and be in a relationship *in most cases*) or winning the lottery. I am hoping the more I say “winning the lottery” it will actually mean it will come true. Is there not a saying that says “think positive and positive things will happen”? Yes, so..I am going to win the lottery, yes I am, Sam I am. Ok, getting off topic. But seriously, I am.

I hate..sorry that’s a strong word, dislike very much, change. I can’t say that I know anyone different who actually likes it, if you do, give me their contact information so I can ask them what they enjoy about it. Anyhow, I do not like not knowing what may happen next. I am not sure of the future, no one is. Unless your a psychic, then you “know everything”. But thats hosh posh. I do not believe in them, I on the other hand believe that one day, I will witness a miracle, like something coming back from the dead, but not the great kind where they try to eat your brains, the miracle of life…which can also be child birth, so I am not entirely sure where I am going with this. Well, that or a flying squirrel, which I have seen, and no I was not dreaming, or high on something, they actually do exist. Google it.

I have change coming, which as you’ve read, I do not like. So I am anxious, nervous and scared. Which sums up my life, in a nutshell. I must inform pass along news that is bad for the receiving end but good from my end. I hate this, sorry dislike ALOT. But I do have to do what I have I psych myself out, I get all these bad thoughts in my head (which FYI) never leave, then I am left alone with my thoughts, which *another FYI* is terrible. Me + my thoughts + seclusion = DANGER ZONE. I can’t bring this up around people because then they ask me “Why do you do that to yourself?” “Why do you think like that?” I cannot answer them because I do not know. I actually have no idea. I don’t.

I was in the car today, driving back home and I imagined getting into an accident. Sick thoughts and I do not understand why. Maybe I am scared to face the next day, worried what it might bring. But I was also taught cherish and be grateful for what is presented to you everyday. When did I stop doing that? What makes me think of the negative all the time. I remember being in the car and thinking “if we crash, I can’t go to work tomorrow – will they think I just didn’t show? What if I died, then there would be me on the schedule, when would they find out?” I have no f**king clue why I think about this stuff. But it’s in there, up in my head. But when it comes to mathematical questions that are simpler than tying your shoelaces, I blank, freeze up, get nervous, then shy then emotional because I know I should know it, but I don’t. The School Board really screwed me over all these years. Good heavens. 

Also, and this is a stone cold fact kids, no kidding around here…I have the memory of a goldfish, no, not a fish that is gold, just a fish…it’s just a fish, with a bad memory, like me. I cannot remember conversations, names, numbers, orders or as I’ve mentioned do easy math. I am just not overall a very intelligent person. I can have intellectual conversations, but then it drops because I’ve lost interest, or I’ve forgotten what you just said a mere 10 seconds ago, can imagine how upset my family and friends get. They get very angry and then ask me “WHY DON’T YOU REMEMBER THINGS?! WHY ARE YOU SO IRRESPONSIBLE!” I do not know what to say, because I don’t remember what to say. I want to tell my family only good things, so they aren’t disappointed, but sometimes I slip up, disappoint, forget, get annoyed with then just leave the conversation all together. I don’t know why this happens, it just does.

Something good has been given to me – I must now work to keep it, 100% into this so I reek the rewards. Nothing better than being given a second chance and to do my best with it. Si, sènorita, bueno. I don’t have a clue what I am saying…as my old Canadian History professor would say “God only knows what she’s talking about!” This is true Ms. No one ever knows.

So anyway folks, sorry for the rambling. Wish me luck, hope I have heard this correctly that I have done something good and that there will be a silver lining at the end, not the playbook, I am the coach of this team, we don’t need no playbook, fool.




“Be enthusiastic” Is what I am told hours before my interview. I will be enthusiastic, personable, funny and confident. But my nerves are tangling and unwinding all at once. It’s hard to even grip onto something. This is a very important thing that I MUST get, fear kicks into high gear. I put my game face on because I know it’s due or die. Full time, I need you. I need this. My hands shake because reality sets in. Struggling, day by day. It’s no joke. But it could and can be worse. But enough thinking. More doing. I’m doing this. Now.

*Wish me luck*


Dear parents, you need to control your kids. Sincerely, non-parents

The Matt Walsh Blog

To the fan I lost yesterday:

I don’t owe you an explanation, but I thought I’d offer one anyway. I do this more for your sake than mine. You see, maybe, as you later suggested, I was in a bad mood. Maybe I could have been a bit more polite about it. Maybe I’m more sensitive to it now that I have kids. Maybe I’m just sick of hearing these comments about parents. Maybe I know that my wife has to take the twins with her when she goes grocery shopping sometimes, so she could easily be on the receiving end of your sort of bullying. Maybe I took it personally.

Whatever the case, there I was, walking down the aisles of the grocery store looking for the ingredients for a new chili recipe I wanted to try. I heard the kid screaming from a distance; the whole store heard…

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Blurring the Lines of Feminism: A Criticism of the Criticism of “Blurred Lines”

Very insightful


Dear capital-F Feminists, Please Stop the Slut-Shaming. Love, a lower-case-f feminist. 

The first time I heard the funky beats of Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” emanating from my radio, I did what any normal, able-bodied human being would do…I boogied my ass off. But just days after the song’s meteoric rise to the top of the charts, scathing criticisms began to arise, citing sexual harassment, slut-shaming, and victim-blaming among many of the artists’ apparently blatant offenses. Because I could never QUITE make out the words behind Thicke’s panting falsetto, I decided to do my own research into the lyrics and see what was really causing the problem. What I found was shocking. I began reading the words fully expecting to arrive at the bottom not only incensed at their content, but also ashamed that I had ever bopped my head and shaken my buns to the beats.

What shocked…

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