What is the ultimate expression of self-hatred? Suicide, I guess. This one time, that question plagued me so much I actually googled it… and it still came up with suicide, but not just offing yourself from the top of the Empire State. No. The first article sprouted some bullshit about the complete decimation of oneself, utter obliteration: dynamite, self-destruction to the point that nothing else remains. But imagine the amount of effort that would take! Also, it wouldn’t work. Because then the news or some satellite millions of kilometres away in space would record it. So you wouldn’t really be gone, because there would be some kid in the distance that remembers that explosion, the legacy that you left behind. So even if you muster up enough self-hatred to attempt something like that, you wouldn’t succeed, and then ironically you would have failed in your mission. You will inevitably and unintentionally leave something left behind, you will be a failure, and that should only serve to contribute to your self-hatred more.
This circle of life is bullshit. If there is someone or something laughing down at our misery, then fuck you. All I want to do is be successful in hating myself, and then maybe I might accomplish something worthwhile for once. But you won’t let me. So FUCK YOU.
OMG I JUST SPILT PEPPER ALL OVER MY KITCHEN WORKTOP AND THE BRUSH AND PAN HAVE GONE MISSING BECAUSE OUR CLEANER IS NEW AND HAS NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING ON AND NOW OUR FLAT KITCHEN IS MAKING EVERYONE SNEEZE SOMEONE HELP
The problem that needs to be fixed is not kick all the girls out of YA, it’s teach boys that stories featuring female protagonists or written by female authors also apply to them. Boys fall in love. Boys want to be important. Boys have hopes and fears and dreams and ambitions. What boys also have is a sexist society in which they are belittled for “liking girl stuff.” Male is neutral, female is specific.
I heard someone mention that Sarah Rees Brennan’s THE DEMON’S LEXICON would be great for boys, but they’d never read it with that cover. Friends, then the problem is NOT with the book. It’s with the society that’s raising that boy. It’s with the community who inculcated that boy with the idea that he can’t read a book with an attractive guy on the cover.
Here’s how we solve the OMG SO MANY GIRLS IN YA problem: quit treating women like secondary appendages. Quit treating women’s art like it’s a niche, novelty creation only for girls. Quit teaching boys to fear the feminine, quit insisting that it’s a hardship for men to have to relate to anything that doesn’t specifically cater to them.
Because if I can watch Raiders of the Lost Ark and want to grow up to be an archaeologist, there’s no reason at all that a boy shouldn’t be able to read THE DEMON’S LEXICON with its cover on. My friends, sexism doesn’t just hurt women, and our young men’s abysmal rate of attraction to literacy is the proof of it.
If you want to fix the male literary crisis, here’s your solution:
Some bullshit essays and portfolios ask for a rationale: and as a faithful procrastinator, I’m using my skills in essay writing to write this.
So I’m a student. My other blog is my go-to for standard tumblr info, you know- Leo “still no oscar” jokes, the latest political hysteria, to keep me up date on which “fandoms” are in fashion. I’ve been on this website for four years with that blog and I have less than 100 followers, which I say I don’t mind but I think everyone seriously does. I mean, I’m hilarious but I don’t post and maybe that’s why I’m unknown; all I do is reblog and occasionally like things.
But seriously my life has insane moments of contemplation, hilarity and awkwardness. If I were a TV show, I’d probably be Awkward or the Mindy Project, but an actually awkward version of that with no love life AT ALL. I mean occasionally drunk guys grind on me in clubs, and I feel flattered for days, but that’s it.
So this blog is (I hope) going to be much more personal, more heartfelt, and more truthful. I might delete it though if this isn’t epic enough a release as exercise is supposed to be or comfort eating Haagan Daaz at 4am actually is.
I will now proceed to hashtag several hundred things in an attempt to get this out there. If you’re pissed off at me that then feel free to send me anon hate, I like sassy replying.