Boobs; sexual or not?

I’ve never really discussed this matter before because, I personally don’t really have much of an opinion on it. I completely understand why many women want “Free The Nipple” equality, but at the same time I feel indifferent at the same time.

I see Free The Nipple as a fight for empowerment and equality among men as well as trying to educate men and women alike on what their breasts/nipples are actually for; which is breastfeeding… completely unsexual. But this is how I kind of see it:

Breasts/Nipples (on a woman) are sexualized, unfortunately. Things with time change and we naturally adapt with change. Yes, it is a pretty shitty thing to be told we cannot show our nipples because they are sexualized but here Muscle-Man-George can run around shirtless (despite the fact that most places require you to wear a shirt regardless of gender)

I feel as though, as a respectful thing to yourself and others around you; covering your breasts shouldn’t be an issue; however I’m personally not going to attack you if you support Free The Nipple, and I certainly do not disapprove of the movement; honestly I support it 100%.  You want rights to show your nipples? go ahead. Thats fine by me. I’m going to raise my children into being respectful and not feeling uncomfortable about breasts and knowing that they aren’t meant to be taken as strictly sexual. But like I said, this day and age nipples/breasts are considered sexual.

Its really hard to explain and I’m sure some neo-nazi-feminist will probably find a way to twist this entire thing into me saying that I want women to be oppressed (even though I directly said I support Free The Nipple)

But, again I’ll say this:

In present times breasts are seen as sacred-sexualized-things. By older generations, it is mostly seen as a respect thing for yourselves; not as a sexualized object. However, with the younger generation (about my age, 20s-30s)  many men(and women) only see them as sexual objects and should be covered. I believe proper education on breasts would be a better approach rather than trashing, bashing, and yelling at people and being rude who would prefer breasts to be strictly covered.  Fighting for equality is great, but please understand where some people see this as. Like me, and many other people, they see it as a respect thing for YOURSELF and OTHER people who feel uncomfortable around exposed breasts (which I know you can argue “Its natural, they shouldn’t be uncomfortable) but I’m sure there’s something that makes you uncomfortable that you wouldn’t like thrown in your face all the time, right?



Boobs; sexual or not?

My Memorial Day.

TW for death mention, depression, vivid descriptions of the deceased. 



I believe I blogged about it before, my grandmother not being in good health. I have been gone off the internet (at least on my computer) for almost a week now, but to people who care enough to read my posts; She had passed away the 29th of this month.


I was getting ready for work, then I got a phone call… and usually my volume is never turned on; but today for some reason it was. I darted to my phone and I answered it (it was my father) I know sometimes my phone doesn’t really work like its supposed to, but I knew he was hesitating behind the other line and I could feel my heart sink and at the same time it felt like I was going to puke up my entire insides. Through sobbing, he told me “She passed away” and I felt my eyes tear up, but I didn’t cry; at least I didn’t let him hear me.
My husband was in the shower, and could hear bits and piece of my conversation as I was trying to keep myself calm and keep my dad calm while also feeling guilty because I wasn’t crying…I kept telling my dad “It’ll be okay, I’m going to come get you.” and things along the lines of that. I remember saying “I’m really sad, and I want to cry, but me crying and being a mess isn’t going to solve or help anything” and then I told him again, I’m on my way to get him and we both exchanged I love you’s and hung up.
Swallowing all of my feelings, my husband had finally got out of the shower and I  just started at him and told him the news of what my father had told me. He looked at me; scared, and sad, he didn’t know my grandmother that well or had a connection with her really at all but he knew how much she meant to me and how much I was hurting on the inside.  He got dressed and kept giving me this look as I started to get ready to go pick up my father.

I wasn’t smiling, I wasn’t crying, I didn’t look like anything. My chest hurt so much, my throat felt like a potato was in it, but I had to be strong for my dad.

I’m a strong believer in paganism, so I think I was projecting my sadness on to my husband in a way (I told him that when he said he felt sad) and then he would make small jokes going “stop doing your witch magic on me” and things along the lines of that.

We got to my dads house and he was in the middle of making phone calls, and I offered to help. He didn’t really cry or anything; he said he was fine for the time being, and that was really it for that much of it.

Then we drove to Gilchrist, the hospice place she was in in Towson. My heart sank when I seen the building, just like it did any other time because all I could picture was my grandmother in this place (not like it wasn’t a beautiful or nice place; it was honestly the best place for her considering the circumstances of her “stay”). I walked inside and we went down the elevator, you could see her room from the elevator. I approached the shut door with a sign flipped around that used to say “no smoking, oxygen in use” and I just felt my chest ache. I knew what it meant, I knew what I was going to walk in to.

My dad had said before he didn’t want to walk in there, he didn’t want to see her lifeless. So I offered to go in myself, for him. I went in first, and there she was…   I had barely walked in the door; it was terrifying. How the rooms are set up, or at least hers, you opened the door and the bathroom was there so you couldn’t see the full body/face yet until you walked passed the bathroom. The second I saw her I stopped dead in my tracks, about 5 feet away, and turned around and walked back out and told my dad he didn’t want to go in.
Of course, he asks “why?” and I tell him because she has absolutely no colour, so he goes in anyway and just starts bawling.

I got closer, and she just looked so… pale, lifeless, her mouth was wide open as if she was sleeping (she snored, and slept with her mouth open) and it just… she looked at peace. Her skin didn’t have wrinkles, but she had no colour. The cherry angiomas on her forehead were purple/dark instead of red. Her tongue was blue… she looked like a wax figure that had yet to have the finishing touches to it.

I just could tear up, I couldn’t cry. I didn’t cry.

We didn’t stay in the room that long, and my dad went back upstairs after he calmed down and we waited for the social worker so we could tell them the decision we made; since we had (literally, $0 actually) no money to afford a ceremony, we donated her body to science and to possibly help someone else out in need because we know thats what she would have wanted, and we  will receive the ashes in the mail.

My dad said he didn’t want to go back in the room before we left, but I wanted to and I did. I couldn’t help it, even if she was lifeless, I still wanted to see her again and it just felt unreal. Everything felt unreal. It still, feels unreal.

We got home, after we ate and hung out with each other, and I played the game with my husband to try to get my mind off of things while my dad listened to music. He started to play Delilah by Tom Jones while sitting next to me and singing (mumbling, because hes shy about singing) and I had told him if he felt like crying, this game can wait and he can cry on my shoulder and I’ll be there for him; and thats exactly what happened.

Eventually (at around like 2am) I went to bed, as well as my husband…. only to be woken up in an hour to be told my Uncle(her brother) had passed…. which was less than 15 hours apart from my Grandmother.

I was in shock, I didn’t know how to feel (I still didn’t cry), we were all in shock, my dad didn’t even cry until we got to the viewing. Not to mention…. my great Aunt, had yet to call us back so we could tell her that my Grandmother died. We eventually went back to sleep and woke up late in the afternoon and talked about what we were going to do, with telling my Aunt (we got the confirmation to let people know he had passed) My dad didn’t want to do it, so we gave someone else in the family her number to talk to her; but who does she call? Us.

My dad thought about ignoring the call, letting someone else handle it. But, this may have been our only opportunity…. I told him to put her on speaker so I could talk to her too. As soon as he said “mom” she started crying, then when he said there’s more, he told her that her brother had also passed and she screamed, it was the most heartbreaking thing I ever had to hear…..

I still didn’t cry.

A few days later, about 4 or 5, we had taken my dad home. I looked at the household that I, we, grew up in and it hit me. I didn’t want to go inside, I couldn’t…. but unfortunately I had to get something so I went in and I just felt so empty inside. I stared at the chair she used to sit in and the bed she used to lay in, and I just felt like a part of me was missing. He gave me her bible (she was Methodist) and her I.D to take with me and to hold on to then I got in the car, we said our I love you’s and goodbyes and we went on our way.

I finally cried.

I cried so hard, there is still an internal battle with me wanting to call her or go visit her. Part of my mind is telling me to call to check up on her, while the other part of me is fighting with the other part of my mind telling it “Hey, she’s gone…. you can’t do those things anymore”

The last thing she had ever said to me was “I love you” and its really shitty, because I told her “You’re going to be okay” and she nodded yes; I know she knew I was lying (she even told me right before she told me her last “I Love You” was “I’m Dying”) but I didn’t let her see me cry, and I kept saying I love you over and over again (and so did she)
With the last bit of energy she had, she just kept telling me she loved me.

I know its my own selfish reasoning, why I want her back. Why I want her back on this earth, why I want her to hold me and tell me she loves me again and again. I want to be able to pick up the phone and ask how her day was, even though I knew how it was going. I want to hear my dad complain about how she was getting on his nerves but he loved her so much. But I know she isn’t suffering anymore, and this is what she wanted. To be at peace, to not be in pain anymore. But I just cant help to be selfish.

My Memorial Day.


Venting about sickness/death.

Its 4am, my husband is asleep, and I don’t want to bother my friends with my problems. My grandmother, who raised me so its she’s like my mother, went to the hospital yesterday because her oxygen levels were low and she was put on Oxygen plus she’s dehydrated and was put on an IV (3 Bags a day) and wasn’t improving (or getting worse). Around 10pm (I was napping; and I had just gotten off the phone with my dad so he didn’t bother to call me to wake me up) he texts me telling me hospital called and her kidney’s almost completely shut down.  Now, my grandmother is 80 years old, has had 3 strokes (2 about 10 years ago, and 1 recently which put her in the nursing home) but I also think she has dementia/alzheimers[which the head of the rehabilitation center/nursing home disclosed just because “she’s old” and she had a stroke, even though the other strokes which were more severe than this one didn’t affect her memory as bad as this one] she has reverted back to almost a baby state; almost. She can’t sit up on her own, she wont eat, she can’t stand on her own. She wont drink anything unless someone assists her (Even though if you ask, she would say no) and when you ask her to do something she looks at you like you’re speaking a different language.

I just don’t how how to feel, well, I do but I don’t,

I’m angry with myself that I’m sad, but I also have every right to be. I’m angry because I don’t know why we’re given these emotions even though its obvious that everyone dies; that we lose people all the time, and we WILL lose someone at least once in our lifetime, it isn’t as if she hasn’t lived her full life, it isn’t as if she’s young and dying, she’s 80 and wasn’t in good health, its bound to happen, right? then why do I have to be so sad about it? All I can do is listen to Front Porch Step and cry all day because the thought of losing my grandmother makes me sick to my stomach and I hate it. I hate every second of it. I hate that I’m going to have to go through this pain again, and again one day.

I hate that I’m going to feel the same way when my dad or mom passes on in the future.
I hate that I’m an empath because this makes it so harder that I know how my father is feeling and every time I talk to him, even if he’s just saying hello, I can feel his hurt and pain in its entirety and it hits me like a freight train and it hurts so much. It hurts so much I can feel my heart beating so hard and so slow..and the feeling like I’m about to puke up all of my insides just rushes quickly… but all I can do is stop and breathe in and try to keep my composure when all I really want to do is just lose control of everything.

It’s so hard because all I had in my life was my Grandmother, Dad, and Uncle; and my Uncle had passed away 11 years ago so it’s just my grandmother, dad, and I left for my intermediate family. Without my grandmother, my dad is alone (since I don’t live with him or anywhere close/easy to get to)
My dad had lived with her (his mom) all of his life, he dedicated his life into helping her when she got sick (even when she wasn’t sick, he was dedicated to helping her but he just had a little more freetime)
and I owe her everything, I’m just glad that I told her how much I appreciated her when I had the chance to, when she could respond to me.

This is just so damn hard, like I’ve mentioned I’ve been through loss before but it just never gets easier, you’re never prepared for it to happen. You can never build enough walls to secure yourself and your trembling so much you can’t bare to put on a facade.

Another thing is I hate, is that (and I appreciate it) everyone is just so afraid to tell the truth, they tell you what you think you want to hear and not actually what you want to hear. I don’t want to hear “There’s hope” or “she’ll pull through”
One or two people told me this and it just hurts more honestly. I’d rather here “It sounds like its her time” and things of that nature (which I have, and I have thanked the people wholeheartedly whom have said that to me) I don’t live in a fairytail land where miracles happen, I do everything based off of facts and odds; while it seems comforting, its just really painful to even slightly get my hopes up when I know it isn’t true.

My husband also has never felt loss before, so he’s so confused and trying really hard to make me feel better and I know its hurting him so much to see me so down and miserable. I just feel so terrible over that and I’m constantly reassuring him that he’s doing fine, and he’s doing okay but he wont listen to me all the time. It just constantly seems like this isn’t the part he signed up for; and I wish I could just push him out of this part of life that I don’t want him to see or deal with but I can’t, no matter how hard I try.




I’m in many groups on facebook, mostly gaming communities in order to find new friends, content, people to play with, or memes. I’ve also been trying to break out of my social anxiety shell and post more publicly; however I’ve noticed no matter what you post you; you’ll get hate. .. even if its something that isn’t even worth getting angry or upset over.

For example,

I made a post in an MMO group, not complaining just trying to get other people’s opinions on a subject whilst giving my own opinion; and the negativity was outstanding. Of course, the good outweighed the bad but its still outstanding.

So, I tried making a post that was funny for people to laugh at and I still got people who were annoyed. Like one or two comments that says “nobody cares” / “nobody cares anymore” or things along the lines of that; or “nobody noticed because you’re only hurting yourself not others” (which didn’t make any sense considering I’m a Healer class and they basically said DPS > Healing; Let me see you run a 24-man raid with no healers)

Why is it like this? I know I made a post before but the gaming community is so shitty now its sad. Not just to female gamers, but to male gamers too. I know that guys get a good chunk if not more of the toxicity, (name calling mostly, or rudeness… I guess its a testosterone thing) and girls get undermined and sexist/misogynist comments all the time.


Why can’t we all just get along?


Sad post.

I just needed somewhere to pour my thoughts and feelings because currently my husband is at work and I’m just sitting here in silence.



To inform complete strangers that enjoy reading my posts for whatever reason,
If you don’t want to read my life story you can skip to the point/next bold faced text. Though you wont understand to the full extent.
I was raised by my Grandmother, Uncle, and Father. I lived with them up until I was just barely 17 (I’ll save that story for another time.) and when my uncle passed away, my Grandmother’s health began declining; since a mother should NEVER know how it feels like to lose any of her children, especially her first born.

She had a 2 strokes about 8 years ago and never actually fully recovered; however her spirits and happiness and determination never left her and she wanted to come home and get better, though she never regained full movement in her right leg and needed assistance with moving/walking which is why my father takes care of her.

My grandmother isn’t a tiny woman, and my father has leg problems so he can’t pick her up and he relies on just helping her walk from her bed to various other places in this one room because my grandmother is a hard headed woman and can’t walk up and down steps, and, unfortunately, my father’s house requires steps into the kitchen, and steps to go outside/out the front door so she was limited to only one small room and she didn’t want to do really any physical therapy because she was always tired.

A little less than a month ago I got a text saying my grandmother couldn’t walk again and that if my father couldn’t get her to move out of her chair by the morning he was going to call the ambulance and take her to the hospital; which of course that happened and she had another stroke. So here we are, back at step one; but we aren’t allowed to pass go.

Her will to live just plummeted. In the hospital she said she was going to get better, that she wanted to get better but this time was different than the last time, this time it seemed like she gave up. She wouldn’t smile, she wouldn’t laugh. She just kept saying how she wants to go home.

Its so hard seeing someone who had so much motivation, so much determination, just stop. Its so hard and emotionally straining because its like watching someone who is as close to you as a mother just give up on life, but claiming that they don’t. It hurts so bad and I don’t know what to do. She says everyone hates her(when they don’t), and just keeps telling us how she wants to go home and I keep telling her shes not going to if she keeps refusing to eat or if she isn’t trying to get better and she just replies “I am going to go home”
I just want to cry for hours because I feel so helpless. I know its going to happen, and I just got off the phone with my father who I’ve only seen cry maybe 3 or 4 times? once when my Uncle died, once when my grandmother had the first stroke,  and maybe two more times since she had this stroke and he just knows her time is coming soon and death is something we don’t really talk about and our family just bottles up emotions and I don’t think I’m prepared to have this talk with him that he wants to have….

Sad post.

Female Gamers.

I’m on a few gaming groups on facebook (this is also based on personal experience as well) and I’ve noticed an increase of many women complaining about the negative and unwanted attention they get from playing an online game such as Overwatch or COD.


I would play Halo 3 online, and this is one of the main reasons why I don’t use a microphone online anymore; Someone literally on my own team, which we were winning, decided to make the comment “any girls that game are fat and ugly” I mean, I am living up the chub life but it was my first encounter with someone on VC who was rude. I was like 14, 15 years old so of course I didn’t pay any mind to it or care.

You’d think since then, that people would evolve. Many girls/women play games now, even more-so than before. But the community is still sexist misogynist pigs towards the female-gaming community its so atrocious and disgusting. You can’t be a girl and game without either begging for attention, or just being ugly. There’s no in between… of course, not everyone is like this and I would never say everyone is like this; however the vast majority of the gaming community (which are male) think this way.

(For an example from personal experience) Lets say our team in Overwatch for an example is losing, yet, I’m on the point; pushing; Gold Medals in everything(including payload time), yet my team keeps dying so that means that we aren’t getting anywhere, and we lose? Want to know who they blame….me; simply because I’m a girl. I had a time where I was Widowmaker picking off everyone on the payload, defending of course. I died maybe once or twice because I had to jump on the payload to stall until my team arrived… I had this one guy who switched to Winston, consistently jump on the payload by himself with no other support aside from the Widowmaker sniping people off of the point. No Mercy to heal him, No Tracer for a distraction, just him and I.

I was in voice chat at the time, not talking, but listening. He was getting infuriated that /I/ was the reason why he was dying, that /I/ had bad choices. You know what…I got fed up with it, got on the mic, and went “Widowmaker was a bad choice? it wasn’t my fault you would jump on the point with no help and die the entire time. I’m sitting here, 14-2, all gold medals, picking off each one of them to help support the point.” He never directly responded to me, just said, “Of course its a girl, they’re playing Widowmaker” and to which I replied “yeah, and I’m not a shitty player like you” and then they left.

When I’m playing comp with my friends, I’m always the person they message with rage messages all the time as if I’m not going to have a comeback to any of it because I’m a girl.

Any time I would join VC, on Call of Duty, the reactions I would get are guys telling me for me to hit puberty because a girl would never be good at call of duty…right?

Its disgusting how (most) of the male culture acts towards women who play video games. I’ve seen screenshots of women getting messages saying “you’re lucky I even let a girl play on my team” (which makes no sense because they didn’t have that option to begin with). Or people hitting on them asking for their phone number (which I’ve got more than once)

It’s asinine that it is 2017 and men do not know how to act when a girl/woman plays an online FPS game.  People complain to me all the time that I’m never in VC when I play Overwatch competitive and honestly, thats the reason why; because I’m just going to get blamed for the reason why we lose (if we do), or I’m going to get sexist misogynist remarks towards me and its irritating.


Female Gamers.

This moment.

You know its true when you can sit down on the bedroom floor of your lover’s room and the bright light from the sun shines bright through the window, illuminating his brown eyes that you seem to get lost in as you talk about anything and everything. Letting out your problems, your fears, what makes you the happiest and what makes you the saddest. Not having not once ounce of a palpitation or shallow breathing because you’re too afraid to say something moronic or embarrassing. All of your insecurities seem to just disappear when you see their face, when they hold you by your waist and smile. When you can see the passion in their eyes and you can’t help but to think “wow, is this what love is?” as you hear them tell you about past stories and situations. Spilling out everything that’s in your gut, mind, and heart. No fear, no uneasiness, just the calmness and soothing sound of their voice.
You’re just so lost and concentrated on what they’re saying, and the small cute kisses that they give you in between sentences. Making you feel safe, making you feel like you’re at home. Everything you once feared or made you despondent are all gone away with just a simple look in their eyes.
I used to think I was going to forever be miserable, that nothing could help get me out of the hole I was in. That I was going to live alone, with 12 cats in a small house by myself. I thought I was the problem, that it was my fault that nothing would last and I would burn all of my bridges and friendships. But, you made me believe again. You showed me that not everything in life is a dark corner and not everything and everyone has some secret agenda to hurt me. When I’m with you, its as if everything seems to stop. All of my stress is gone with just a blink of an eye. I have already forgotten what sadness feels like, yet I am reminded of my dark times still; But I regret those times, for those times were not I. I was consumed by a monster, a monster called depression and consistently put down by the negativity around me. I failed to realize at that time what and who I had right in front of me.  My biggest supporter, my role model, my best friend, my lover.
And then after, all of these things were thought and spoken, it felt like a matter of minutes have passed. But then you notice the silver light creeping through the glass of the window, and the dark sky and realize that hours have went by and you spent all day just talking, and still having the time of your life.

This moment.