Category: My Writing

On Addiction, Trauma, and Coping Skills

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I come from a long line of addicts. My biological father, Michael, is a recovering alcoholic. My biological mother, Heather, is also an alcoholic. Though she’ll tell you that she’s not a drunk. She’s denied her own alcoholism since I can remember. She drank with at least three out of six of her kids while she was pregnant with them. Possibly four, but that one is unconfirmed. She’s been told over and over again that she’s got issues and she needs to get help. She never has. Instead, she’s pickling her liver. Her husband is also pickling his liver. I mean, the woman tripped at work because she was wasted. She was fired because she was drinking on the job and stealing alcohol. So yeah, she’s a drunk. Her biological father, Ted, who passed away a few years ago, was a drunk. I think even his father was a drunk. Michael’s biological father, whom I don’t think he’s even met, I believe was also a drunk. The point is that there is a lot of addiction and alcoholism in my family, But there’s a lot of trauma as well. I don’t know if those correlate. They probably do a little. I don’t know a lot about my family history. My mother lies. Everything is shrouded in mystery. Or, you know, hazy from booze-filled dreams.

I’m not an addict. Nor am I an alcoholic. I don’t like drinking. Sure, I’ll drink socially, but even then, I don’t like it. I’d rather dance. When I think of alcohol, I think about my mother. I think about her wine breath as I tuck her into bed. I think about cleaning up her vomit from the floor. It doesn’t have good memories associated with it. I made that choice a long time ago that I wasn’t going to be like her. I wasn’t going to drown my sorrows and pain in alcohol. Just like I made the choice to not do drugs.

Sure, I’ve smoked pot. I’ve had some edibles. but that is the extent of my drug usage. Frankly, the reason why I don’t like drinking I don’t want to be like my mother. The reason why I don’t do any hard drugs is because I don’t want to be like my brother Tristan.

Now, I’ve talked about him a few times. My poem “Demons” is about him. He’s featured in a few pieces from “I Don’t See You Anywhere.” Those pieces are “Speculations” and “Parental Repercussions.”

if you know me then you know that I love my siblings more than anything. Tristan is my best friend. He’s 28 and I’ll be turning 30 in June, so we’ve always been close. I’ll admit that I’ve always had rose-colored glasses on when it comes to him. Maybe I’ve babied him a bit too much. Maybe a part of me did that because I felt bad that he didn’t get a good mother. Sure, I didn’t either. Yet sometimes it seems like he suffered more from our shitty drunk mother. maybe that was wrong. Maybe that was wrong to baby him. maybe, in a way, by babying him, I was enabling him, too.

That’s hard for me to admit.

I love my brother. I’d die for him. I’d probably kill for him. But I also know that he’s not perfect.

Tristan started using cocaine again. So much so that his wife Natalie kicked him out. I can’t blame her there. And I made sure to tell her that I supported her decision. He left it out where his daughter could get it, and that’s not okay.

Do you know who that reminds me of?

Our mother. It reminds me of Heather.

When I was about 14 or 15, Heather started dating this guy named Rusty. He was like, ten years younger than her. He was just using her for money. One day, I got home from school to find that he had left his drug paraphernalia out on the coffee table where my little brother Kody (who was, like, 5 at the time) could reach it. And when I say drug paraphernalia, just know I’m not talking about pot. It was some hard-core drugs. Possibly cocaine or meth. I don’t know. All I know is that my little brother held it in his hands.

That was terrifying.

I trashed it all. Then I cleaned him up. He could’ve died from that.

My niece, Ellie, could’ve died had she gotten in Tristan’s stash. that’s his daughter.

And I see the same thing repeating. Repeating. Over and over again.

It used to make me sad.

Now? It pisses me off.

Because Tristan knows what that is like. To grow up in that chaos. To grow up with a parent who cared more about getting her next drink than her own kids. You’ve read it all on here with “Bottles in the Closet,” “Drink Yourself to the Grave,” “What You Taught Me,” “Narcissism,” and so many other pieces from “I Don’t See You Anywhere” that clearly lays out what it was like growing up with a drunk as a mother. I’ve been frank and honest about my childhood with Heather. It’s been healing and relieving. Like letting out pus from a wound. I may not be fully healed. I know I still have trauma. I’m pretty sure I can trace my reluctance to drive, to move out to my mother. I know all that. I do know that I’m not the same as I was when I first came to Arkansas at 19. I’ve grown and I’ve changed. I’ve come to terms with my shitty childhood.

Yeah, I deserved a hell of a lot better than what I got. But you know what? I can’t do anything about that. It’s in the past. I can’t let it control my every actions. That’s not to say that it doesn’t. Like, I said, I’m certain I could trace my anxiety driving and moving out on my own to my mother. I’m working on it. I’m a work in progress. But I work every single damn day to make sure that I am nothing like my mother. Every day I make that choice.

I look at Tristan, and I see my mother. I see how she makes herself the victim in everything. How she never takes responsibility for her actions. How she blames everyone but doesn’t look in the damn mirror. How she lies and manipulates to get her way. How she uses alcohol to cope with her own issues rather than use the resources she has. Tristan may have admitted that he’s an addict, but he still chooses to do drugs. He made one step and yet is stagnant.

And yeah, he can blame our shitty childhood. But at a certain point, he’s got to take responsibility for his own actions. He chooses drugs over his family. He makes that choice because it is easier to be high than to be sober and admit that he’s fucked up. And maybe I’ve been too gentle on him. Maybe that’s on me. Maybe I should’ve been giving him more tough love.

Right now I’m sad, but I’m also mad. I’m pissed off. Because I see him repeating exactly what our mother did to us. I want to yell and scream at him. I want to shake him. I want to ask him how you can do this. How can you do the same thing to Ellie that Heather did to us? That’s what he’s doing. He can’t see a way out of the drugs. He’s got a whole damn support system. He’s got Natalie. Me. Mom (when I say Mom know I mean Wendy, my aunt who adopted me last May and is Heather’s older sister). He’s got a whole cheer squad in the wings, willing and able to be there. But we can’t make him be sober. We can’t drag him kicking and screaming. He has to make that choice.

So yeah, I cried when I found out he got kicked out. Just like I cried when I spent Christmas break with him and a week before he would’ve been sober for a year (January 3rd), he relapsed. I felt like I should’ve done more. Mom was right. what more could I have done that I hadn’t already done? Hadn’t I spent hours trying to talk to him? Give him advice? tell him all the things that he hears from his therapist and his sponsor. Haven’t I done everything I could to make him see? Maybe I should’ve taken a different approach.

Maybe I should’ve said this instead:

Do you now remember scaring Kody and Camron because you came home high out your gourd from taking god knows what? Your best friend Trai was over and he locked you out. Neither Trai nor I would let you in until we knew you were sober. Do you not remember that? Because I do. You’re not the one who had to come up with a lie to tell our little brothers. You know, your little brothers who adore you.

Do you not remember coming down from a high and wrapping your hand around my throat? All because I wouldn’t give you money for more drugs? Do you not remember that? Because I do. I remember being afraid of you for the first time in my life. Because you’re bigger than me. I remember you apologizing the next day. But I also remember you stealing from my wallet. I bet you didn’t think I knew.

That is what drugs has done to you.

I’m sure there are more memories like that. I wasn’t dumb. I knew he was using when he was a kid. Probably mostly popping pills. Maybe that’s why I was too soft on him. Because a part of me blamed myself. Maybe I should’ve done more. Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve. Like a damn line from a song. I guess I forgot that I was also a kid. What the hell was I supposed to do about my addict brother? What could I do? So yeah, maybe that’s why I was too soft.

It’s taken me a long time to realize that as much as I want to help, sometimes there’s nothing I can do. I can’t make him get sober, and I can’t make him see that there is a better way. That’s a hard pill to swallow. No pun intended.

And yeah, that was humor.

I cope with my trauma with humor.

I cope by smiling and faking it until I make it.

I listen to music.

I hide in my art, my books, my fanfiction. Whatever I can to not have to deal with the trauma. A common thread in every story, whether my original story or fanfiction, is a girl trying to find a home and a family. That’s real. That’s me. Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for. Maybe I’ll always be looking for that.

And while I have Mom and she’s a damn godsend, there are still some things I can’t tell her. Somethings I’m afraid to tell her.

I can’t tell her that I’m an overachiever because I’m terrified if I don’t do anything, if I’m not the best in school if I don’t get this master’s, she won’t want me anymore. That she’ll look at me and maybe all she’ll see is Heather. Maybe she won’t love me anymore. That if I don’t help with chores, she’ll think I’m worthless.

Yeah, I know that’s bullshit. I know that logically. She’s not going to think that. That’s my stupid brain. You can’t rewire a brain once it’s been so warped by a drunk mother.

Hell, Mom would probably be happy if I was an underachiever.

But being an overachiever? That’s my trauma manifesting. That’s me trying to be the best that I can be. That’s me trying to make sure I am seen. Growing up that’s all I wanted from Heather. I wanted to be seen. I wanted her to come to my choir concerts, to look at my art, and to take an interest in my writing. She never did.

Being an overachiever is me hiding the fact that, honestly, I’m depressed a lot. I’m fucking tired all the time.

I don’t want to be in school anymore. Sure, I’m nailed in for social work, and I’m excited about that program, but I also wish I had realized what I wanted to do years ago. I feel like an idiot sometimes for not figuring that out. I’ve been in school for ten years. I feel like I haven’t grown or changed. I’m stagnant. I’m almost 30 and I can’t drive. I don’t know why there’s that block. Maybe I feel bad for bothering Mom if I want to drive. Who knows?

The truth is that I’d love to just relax. I want to travel. Not just in the states. I want to go everywhere. I want to get over this damn block when it comes to driving, take a few weeks of work off and say fuck it. Go on a cross-country trip because why the hell not?

I want to do all the shit I never got to do.

I want to paint every day and not give two fucks if it looks good.

I want to spend hours writing on stories.

I want to audition for every single play and musical, and maybe one day, I’ll get to be a tree.

I want to dress up for no other reason than it makes me happy.

Hell, yes, I still want to throw a masquerade ball.

I want to take vocal lessons and learn ballet, and sometimes, I want to binge-watch my favorite shows.

But you know what?

I also want to be an underachiever. I want someone to take over. I can pass them the damn baton.

Here you go! It’s your turn.

Or hell, no one takes over.

I’m so damn tired of trying to be perfect. Of pretending. Of acting like everything is hunky dory. I’m just fucking tired. Being the oldest? It fucking blows. Everyone looks at you like you’re perfect. They seem to forget that you’re human too. But I think I forgot I was human too.

So yeah, I’m still angry with Tristan. I still want to shake him. But it’s his choice. His decision. It’s out of my hands. I’d like to say that I at least broke the cycle of addiction and alcoholism. I don’t think I did. I think I just replaced it with something else. I haven’t figured out if my coping skills are any better than his. Maybe they aren’t.

My current theme song is “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart.” Check out the lyrics below.

-K

What You Taught Me (A Poem)

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I was once the golden girl, the perfect daughter. I did whatever I wanted and never spoke up. Little Miss Old Reliable. The angel.

I bet you never saw it coming when I left.

I packed my suitcase and walked out the door. I was finally free. I didn’t even look out the window as we drove away. I kept listening to “Break Away” as you got smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, standing in the driveway with tears streaming down your face. I didn’t even feel bad.

You said I love you, and I’ll miss you, and you can come back anytime. Why would I ever want to come back?

With my heart in my hands, I left you. My only regret was not taking the kids with me, and if I could’ve found a way, I would’ve taken them too. We would’ve all run away from you. Away from you and all the lies and the trauma. All the things you never taught us.

You never taught me how to tie my shoes. My friend Tiffany taught me. I taught my siblings.

You never taught us how to read. I don’t remember you ever reading bedtime stories. Did you even tuck us in? I don’t think you did.

And you’ll never know that you taught me how to run away.

This is what you taught me.

How to never show up for anything. You missed nearly every choir concert. I hope I never miss out on anything if I ever have kids.

How to blame your children for eviction notices when you’re the parent.

This is what you taught me.

How to come home drunk, so I have to tuck you into bed and clean up your mess.

How to make dinner when there’s no electricity, gas, or water.

This is what you taught me.

You say you’re a good mom, and maybe once that was true. You said you did your best, but honestly, I don’t see the proof. You post all this sugary sweet stuff on Facebook, acting like we’re the best friends, when the reality is you have to beg me to call or even respond to a text.

You act like we’re the perfect family and you’re the best mom. But the second anyone says otherwise, you turn on the tears. You say we’re being mean to you. You don’t want to hear the truth. I hope you look in the mirror one day and realize this is all you taught me.

How to disappear for days without answering your damn phone so I have to skip class again because you forgot you had a baby at home.

How to break every promise saying it’ll get better when it never does.

This is what you taught me.

How to make all these big plans and never show up. Then, finally, show up with a false I’m sorry when we all know you’ll do it again. I’ll never forget my brother’s face when you never showed up for Mother’s Day. He threw the flowers in the trash and let them wilt and die.

This is what you taught me.

How to date younger guys who bring drugs into the house and leave it on the coffee table for the kids to find.

How to ignore when your daughters’ are cutting their wrists in a clear plea to notice us. See us. Can you see us now? As we cut you out of our lives? You didn’t want to see us then. You ignored all our pain. You taught us to ignore our pain, to smile like it’s not real. You drowned your pain in booze.

This is what you taught me.

You say you’re so proud of me like it means a damn thing to me

You brag about to your friends like you had anything to do with the woman I’ve become

You didn’t.

If it were up to you, I’d still be in Oklahoma, being Cinderella and never getting out of the cellar. I’d be singing to the mice and the birds until you stole my voice once more. You’d stifle me until I couldn’t breathe. No words would come out. I’d wither away like those flowers in the trash can.

Or do you not remember how every time we talked those first few years I was in Arkansas, you said I could come home? How you’d use my brothers against me. The boys miss you so much, you’d say.

I missed them, too.

You can come home.

Why would I ever want to come home? And you said I could come home? And I still don’t want to return home. Oklahoma isn’t home. It’s a prison. The second I cross the state line, I break out in hives, and I remember how much I hate that state—because you’re in it.

This is what you taught me.

How to stretch a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and jelly a week for five kids because you didn’t grocery shop. Didn’t you hear my stomach growling? Did you ignore that too?

How to beg my friends for money to pay for bills. Do you know how ashamed I felt every time I had to ask? Had to beg? That’s what you did.

How to hide my money in a boot in a closet, or you’d steal it. You’d get so mad when I wouldn’t give you money. I earned it. You didn’t. Why would I give it to you when all you’d do is spend it on alcohol?

How to lie and rewrite our entire family history. Do you know how insane that is? How you delete everything that happened in my childhood? Like it didn’t exist. It did.

How to play the victim. You turn up the tears and give me a sob story. You slur words. Like everyone is attacking you. We’re being oh so mean.

You didn’t teach us a single damn thing that we can use. You taught us what not to do.

I feel like I’m repeating myself. How many poems do I have to write for you to get the picture? Do I need to put out a billboard? Spell it all out to you in capital letters? Should I put an ad in the paper? Should I make a video? What else do I need to do to make you see the scars you left on your kids?

Do I need to scream it to the heavens?

Or should I do the same thing you’ve done? Do I ignore it? No. I think not. I’m not wearing rose-colored glasses.

I learned what not to do from you.

-K

Drink Yourself to the Grave (A Poem)

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Tell me how it feels to know you’re going to die alone

No one will be surprised when they get the news

We’ve seen it coming years away

Toss the bones, and it spelled out the future clear as day

We emptied the vodka bottle in the sink

The bottom read R.I.P

Rest in peace

Rest in pieces like the glass shards on the floor

I bet you’d lick up the last drops of booze, all while cutting your fingers

Do you taste your blood? Or do you only taste the alcohol?

Light a match, and you’ll go up flames like wallpaper

You’re curling at the edges, turning yellow, and then blackening,

pieces of you fading away like you never existed at all

Casually drinking yourself to the grave, writing your own obituary

Here you lie, the best mother to ever live

At least according to you

Here she lies

A liar, a drunk,

a woman who was afraid of being alone

Yet was the reason why everyone left her

Pushed everyone away with your rancid, alcoholic breath

Slurred cruel words and acted like we could forget them

When they were carved into our skin

Called me a liar because I dared to tell the truth

Rose-colored glasses glued to your face

You can’t rewrite our family history

Not when we all know

It’s not a secret anymore, except to you

You lock it away in a box and swallow the key

Chase it down with some boxed wine

While we all bleed from the shards you carelessly leave

Press another bottle to your lips and claim to love us

I don’t see the proof

Get in your car and drive away

One hand on the steering wheel,

another reaching for a new drink

You’ll end up in a ditch

or in a hospital hooked up to machines

With no one to mourn you

Here she lies

Don’t worry, mother,

I’ll bury your precious wine with you

-K

The Cabin

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You left me bleeding out on a stranger’s floor, yanked my heart out of my chest, peeled back my ribs like wallpaper, and still had me begging for more.

Shoved it into your pocket and forgot you even had it, so it gathered dust and withered away.

Empty chest, I choked on the shards of bone.

Did you even care?

She called you crying.

You forgot your jacket.

And left me dying in a house full of your friends who never said a word to me as I sat curled up in a chair, feeling lost and confused.

She took a bite out of your heart while it was still beating, grinned with bloody teeth, and batted her dark eyelashes as she chewed.

Everyone said you two were meant to be together. I could hear the whispers of your friends as they said how you two kept returning to each other. Meant to be, I kept hearing.

Where did that leave me?

Tell me, was it worth it every time she went back to him, letting him leave watercolors on her skin?

Were you thinking of her when you pushed me up against the wall in the lake cabin, your hands leaving bloodstains? I could still see the marks she left on your skin.

Did you see her face instead of mine?

I waited for over an hour as you went to rescue her, silently crying as your friends looked on with pity. None of them were brave enough to give me empty condolences. They’d open their mouths but no words came out, turning away as they talked quietly amongst themselves. I sat in that chair, wondering if I left would you even care? Would you even notice that I was gone?

Tell me, was I the other woman, or was she?

You finally came back, smiling that smile I loved, acting like you did nothing wrong. I demanded that you take me home because I was done.

You kept telling me you were sorry, that we could go to the cabin on the lake. We could listen to music and get high.

Was that all I was to you?

You didn’t even know what you were apologizing for, did you? I stared out the window as it rained, crying with the sky.

We pulled up to the apartment. I climbed out of the car. You kept begging me to stay even as I heard your phone go off.

I wanted to scream at you. I wasn’t the one who left in the first place. You did. Instead, I said, “You don’t love me how I loved you.” You gaped like a fish out of water. How did you not know? Wasn’t it obvious? I spun on my heel and left you in the car. You didn’t run after me.

Because I wasn’t her.

My brothers found me crying on the couch, and instead of hanging out with their friends, they stayed with me. We watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer as they tried to joke and mend my broken heart. They took my phone and didn’t let me text you.

Eventually, you stopped texting me.

Did you go back to her?

Months later, you’d call me because you forgot to take your medicine, and you kept feeling like bugs were crawling all over. The walls were moving, and the voices were loud. I stayed on the phone with you for hours, helping to calm you down. I talked to you like you hadn’t broken my heart without a care in the world.

I should’ve listened to my friends when they told me that’s what you did. You went through girls and boys like they were tissues and tossed them in the trash. It was all a game to you. It was easy. I was lonely and desperate. You read that so easily.

Tell me, did you even call her? Or did she not answer her phone?

Are you the other man, or is he?

I wondered if I fell for you too hard. Did I make a mistake? Did I read the signs wrong? I must’ve.

You’re still a memory. I can still feel you on my skin. It’s all a hazy memory of smoke. I think about you like how people think about books they read in high school. Briefly. Alluded too.

Do you think of me? Did you find your way back to her? Do you think about the girl who fell in love with you? Who gave you so much without even thinking about it? I gave you my heart, and you didn’t even care. Do you have regrets?

Maybe you do.

Or maybe you locked all those memories away in the lakeside cabin. You unlock the door on sad, lonely nights when the drugs don’t work and when, once again, she ends up in his steel trap arms.

There I am, laying on the bed, skin like porcelain, hair fanned out around me like a halo, and a smile on my face.

Do you trace down my spine? Do you leave bloody marks and bruises on my shoulders once more?

Or perhaps there’s a different ending. Maybe that other me leaves before anything happens. She turns away from your kiss and pushes your hands away. She realizes that she’s more than a body for you to get lost in. She pulls on her clothes and walks to the edge of the dock. She takes a leap, making no noise as she disappears into the water and sinks to the bottom like I was never there in the first place.

Maybe I never was.

-K

I’m a Tortured Poet Too (TTPD Album Review)

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I never thought it could be done, but it has. For years, Taylor Swift’s Red has been my favorite album. When she released her version, I fell in love with Red all over again. Well, move over Red because this girl has a new favorite album! I have been counting down the days since Taylor announced that she had a new album, The Tortured Poets Department, coming out in April. Since it came out on April 19th, I’ve been repeatedly listening to the album for days. Not only did our girl give us 16 new songs, but she whipped around and said surprise! Here’s another 15 songs! That’s our girl, though. And if you know me, then you know how much I love Red, and the fact that it’s been knocked to number two is a big deal. Red has always been My Album. Yes, those caps are necessary. The fact that The Tortured Poets Department (TTPD) has knocked Red to second place? Huge deal.

So, let’s get to this.

Normally, I’d go through songs by songs like I’ve done with other album reviews, but instead, I’m going to talk about my favorite songs, a few of my own theories, and who knows what else.

Let’s get started.

My first favorite song is “Florida!!!” This song features Florence + the Machine, who is another one of my favorite artists. This song is my top favorite song (it’s a tie really between this one and the next song). This song perfectly blends what we expect from Taylor and Florence + the Machine. Seriously, this song is a masterpiece. The lyrics, the blending of Taylor and Florence’s voices, the instruments. It is done so well. Sometimes, when you get two different artists on a song, they don’t blend well. The song “Don’t Call Me Angel” comes to mind with Ariana Grande, Lana del Rey, and Miley Cyrus. All three of them are fantastic, but the song doesn’t complement all their styles.

“Florida!!!” blends Taylor Swift and Florence + the Machine, which doesn’t diminish either singer but also gives us a whole new sound. It’s incredible. Mom doesn’t like the “Florida!!!” part and thinks that it’d be perfect if the song didn’t have that. I can understand that.

When I think of Florida, I think of two things: vacations and Florida Man stories. Have you ever Googled Florida man + plus your birthday? We all know of those crazy Florida man stories. Or hell, just Florida stories in general. Vacation and crazy? That’s how we see Florida. This song captures that essence. The song is about an escape. It’s about running away and hiding.

If I had to think of what previous album this song came from, I’d probably say evermore. It has the same vibe as “no body, no crime.”

My favorite lyrics: 

"Well, me and my ghosts, wе had a hell of a time
Yes, I'm hauntеd, but I'm feeling just fine"
"Tell me I'm despicable, say it's unforgivable
At least the dolls are beautiful, fuck me up, Florida"

Up next, we have “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” Honestly, this song gave me reputation flashbacks. It’s like the twin sister of “Look What You Made Me Do.” It gave me major Cruella de Ville vibes, too. I thoroughly expect this song to eventually make its way to Spotify’s Villain Mode playlist. (Update: IT HAS. I love being right. Lol.)

This song is angry and confrontational. Taylor is taking charge of the narrative once more and firing her own shots at all her haters, yet it’s done seamlessly. Taylor has often been in the public’s eye for her songs and her life—more than anyone else, it seems. (For more, read this blog.)

This song is powerful. Did anyone else start listening to it and immediately straighten out and powerwalk? I know I did.

Obviously, this song is a definite call back to reputation. (Come on, Taylor, give us reputation (Taylor’s Version). Is this a hint? Please be a hint.) Personally, reputation isn’t one of my favorite albums. Nothing against the album. I have a few favorite songs on it. I think it’s because the songs don’t speak to me as well as her other albums do. It’s the same with Lover and 1989. There’s nothing wrong with the albums; I personally just don’t connect with the songs as well as I do with other albums.

And that’s the thing, you don’t have to like all her songs or albums. Everyone has their favorite album and favorite songs. That’s totally okay. Everyone can have their opinion. Respect is the key. (More on that in a bit.)

My Favorite Lyrics:

"I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me
You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me"

“I was tame, I was gentle ’til the circus life made me mean
‘Don’t you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth‘ “

Up next, we have “The Bolter” from The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology. I know that I’ve talked about this before, but in high school, it wasn’t all roses and peaches. (I think that’s how that phrase goes.) I’m pretty sure my friends would also call me “The Bolter.” I know they called me more colorful things behind my back, even as they smiled at my face.

There were times when I felt really alone. Like Taylor, I got caught up in the drama. Some of it was my own fault, and some of it wasn’t. This song makes me think of those times. I think this song is about double standards. It’s okay that the guy wanted her, but her wanting him was wrong. He got to walk away without the whispers, but she didn’t get to. Isn’t that just the summary of Taylor’s entire career?

I also find the placement of this song interesting. It’s the third to last song, between “Peter” and “Robin.”

I can’t decide which album this song emulates. It’s kind of a toss-up between Lover and folklore for me. Oh, wait, no. It’s a total debut or Fearless song!

My Favorite Lyrics:

"Behind her back, her best mates laughed
And they nicknamed her 'The Bolter' "

"Ended with the slam of a door
Then he'll call her a whore"

“The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” is somehow both sad and angry. I’m not sure how Taylor did that, but go her! Mom says this song is like a giant “FUCK HIM.” I totally agree with that.

This song is about being disappointed in a former lover. It starts out so soft, and then it slowly builds up to the bridge. (You know Taylor likes her bridges.) I immediately thought about her relationship with John Meyer when I first heard this song. She was 19, and he was 32 when they dated. “Dear John” is about him (obviously). Apparently, this song isn’t about John Meyer but some other guy she dated. Yes, even though I am a Swiftie, that doesn’t mean I keep track of who she dates. It’s about the music for me. I think the guy is Matt Healy? No idea who that is, but whatever.

This song is about disappointment. It asks what happened. Was this a joke? Just tell me. She’s trying to understand. She thought what they had was real, yet he was suddenly gone. There is so much emotion in this album, and I love it.

I just had a thought: This song is about a fucboi. HA. (Also, I have a dirty mind; when I read “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived,” I read it entirely differently. . .I know I’m not the only one.)

This song screams folklore with some Red echoes.

My Favorite Lyrics: 

"And I don't even want you back, I just want to know
If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal"
"And you'll confess why you did it and I'll say, 'Good riddance'
'Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden"

Before I got to “Florida!!!” and “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” this next song was my first favorite: “Down Bad.” This song reminds me of 1989 (Taylor’s Version). It’s got that same vibe—sort of pop, sort of country, but with some edge. It makes you want to get up and dance, and then you think about what the lyrics are about, and you’re like. Oh.

This song reminds me of a line from another song, “Wasting All These Tears” by Cassadee Pope. She sings “And you left me standing on a corner crying.” Or the other songs that sing about crying on the floor after a break-up. “Down Bad” has that same vibe. Yet, it’s a bit angrier. It’s not angsty. Taylor is pissed. Yet she’s also sad. For me this song is like that moment where you just got broken up with it, yet you’re still in denial.

Yet, it’s also about the double standard. I mean, think about how much heat Taylor has gotten for writing songs about her exes compared to everyone else. Like, why?

My Favorite Lyrics:

"Now I'm down bad crying at the gym
Everything comes out teenage petulance"

"They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about the existence of you
For a moment I was heaven struck"

The next song I read was the title when she released it, and I immediately thought about The Little Mermaid with “But Daddy I Love Him.” Has any song ever been so quintessential teenage love? You know that love. The first love. When it hits you like a train (or like lightning). it’s like you’re overwhelmed. All you can think about is that person. It doesn’t matter if your parents don’t approve because that person is the one.

“But Daddy I Love Him” captures that perfectly. This song reminds me of Speak Now. Back when Taylor was still hopeful about love. Also, how hilarious is the line “But daddy, I love him, I’m having his baby?” I fucking died laughing at that. Come on. That was gold.

My Favorite Lyrics:

"Growin' up precocious sometimes means
Not growin' up at all"
"I'll tell you something 'bout my good name
It's mine alone to disgrace"

Never has a line been more iconic than “Lights, camera, bitch, smile.” I need that on a T-shirt, stat. “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” is such a peppy song, yet. . it’s not a happy song? I love the contrast. This song is like if Lover and 1989 had a baby, and boom, we get this gem. Can’t you picture her in her 1989 outfit singing this song?

This song is about how she put on a massive tour, even though she was depressed and heartbroken. Can you blame a girl? I mean, she ended a six-year relationship. That’s a big deal. Us normal people, we get to eat ice cream or do whatever we need to do to move on from a relationship. Taylor, on the other hand, has a brand. She’s a celebrity. She’s always under scrutiny. Did her ex get this much heat after the break-up? No, I don’t think so. (He may have. If he did, then correct me because I don’t know.) The double standards are just ridiculous.

So this song is her like hey, I’m depressed, life sucks, but I have shit to do. Here I am.

My Favorite Lyrics: 

"I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art
You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart"

There is something about the beat of this next song that I just, vibe with it. “My Boy Breaks All His Favorite Toys” has such an interesting vibe. It’s screaming 1989 and Red to me. Yet, more. . .grown up? If that makes sense. This song talks about a guy who self-sabotages. It could’ve been good. Maybe it was good in the beginning, but then he (the boy) decided to break it. Hence the title. Self-sabotage. Who hasn’t been in a relationship like that? Where one of you, maybe both of you, sabotages the relationship.

Maybe it’s out of fear. Who knows? This song is about that. It’s about a man—a boy who does that. It could’ve been good, but she’ll never know because he left.

My Favorite Lyrics:

" 'Cause I knew too much, there was danger in the heat of my touch
He saw forever, so he smashed it up, oh, oh"

For this next song, I’m about to say something so controversial to my fellow Swifties.

Ready?

Okay, so I think “loml” is more sad than “So Long, London.”

There, I said it.

“Loml” starts with a piano, and I am such a sucker for Taylor’s songs with a piano as the main instrument. I love a piano ballad. There is so much raw emotion in this song as she sings. It’s beautiful. This song hits me like “All Too Well,” “White Horse,” and “Last Kiss.” Those songs are so raw and so emotional that you are like, OH. Oh. Ouch.

This song is the twelfth in the album, but honestly, I think it should be in the fifth spot instead. I can see her singing this song on a tour, the emotions, the gestures she’d make. It’s a heartbreaking song. This song scoops out your insides and twists them around a bit, and then yanks them out. Like how the Egyptians got the brains out to put them in a jar.

“Loml” means loss of my life—not love of my life. Ouch. Okay, just, ouch, man. This song is about a love that you thought was perfect—you thought he was The One. But it wasn’t. It was heartbreaking. There’s no fixing it. There’s no return.

That love? It’s gone. It’s not coming back.

Also, I love how it ends with “You’re the loss of my life,” and that’s it. It reminds me of “Last Kiss” and how she ends that song with “last.”

My Favorite Lyrics: 

"I wish I could un-recall
How we almost had it all"

"Oh, what a valiant roar
What a bland goodbye
The coward claimed he was a lion"

“So Long, London” is the fifth song on TTPD. It has long been a tradition that the fifth song on a Taylor Swift album is going to yank out your heart and then stomp on it with a soccer cleat. Seriously, there’a whole bunch of theories on this. I may be a Swiftie, but I’m not that invested.

Let’s list her track five songs.

Debut: Cold As You

Fearless: White Horse

Speak Now: Dear John

Red: All Too Well

1989: All You Had To Do Was Stay

Reputation: Delicate

Lover: The Archer

Folklore: My Tears Ricochet

Evermore: Tolerate It

Midnights: You’re On Your Own, Kid

TTPD: So Long, London

Now, obviously, some of those hit harder than others (looking at you “All Too Well” and “tolerate it”). Yet there are a few on there that I wouldn’t necessarily call tragic or sad. In fact, a few of them seem a bit more hopeful rather than tragic. Such as “Delicate” and “The Archer.” I think “So Long, London” is the same as those. I don’t see it as a sad song, per se. Yes, it’s got a sad note. There is that same raw emotion as in “loml,” yet “So Long, London” seems more hopeful.

It’s a goodbye, but it’s also looking towards the future.

This next bit is going to be shorter, but just random musings on the songs.

I greatly appreciate “The Prophecy” being before “Cassandra.” Now, I don’t know if y’all know your Greek mythology, but Cassandra was the name of a woman who had visions, but she was cursed to never be believed. I don’t know if Taylor did that intentionally, but if she did, that’s brilliant, and go to her. If not, it’s still pretty awesome. Even if it was unintentional. Great line from “The Prophecy” is “I got cursed like Eve got bitten.” She’s trying to change her own narrative. Then you have “Cassandra” after it with this great lyric: “So, they killed Cassandra first ’cause she feared the worst And tried to tell the town.”

“thanK you aIMee,” is brilliant. Not only the lyrics but the TITLE. How freaking clever is that? This is the most like, polite diss track ever. I do need people to chill the hell out with the lyric, “Everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman, but she used to say she wished that you were dead.” IT IS A SONG. I don’t think that’s taking it too far, considering all the shit Kanye West and Kim Kardashian have said about Taylor. Has Kim ever come out and apologized? No, I don’t think she has. It is a song. It isn’t taking it too far. I can’t imagine how all that drama affected Taylor’s family.

Some underrated songs that deserve more hype: “Peter,” “Fresh Out of the Slammer,” “The Alchemy,” and “The Albatross.”

“Fortnight” is a great start to this album. I didn’t know I needed a collaboration between Post Malone and Taylor Swift until this moment. Some are dissing because Post Malone sounds more like backgrounds, but I don’t think so. It’s got just enough of him. Check out the video below!

I feel like this album somehow combines all of her previous albums and their sounds together and smushes it into one sound. A lot of people are saying it’s messy and repetitive. I don’t see it like that. I think this album really feels like growth to her. This album feels more personal than folklore, evermore, and Midnights were. Not that Midnights wasn’t personal, it was. Yet it felt more. . restrained? The Tortured Poets Department isn’t restrained. I like that. I like that she’s like, “Here’s all my emotions!” I feel like this album was really for her and not for the fans. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

Okay, now I’m going to rant.

I need all of you to chill the hell out.

Listen, if you don’t like the album or Taylor Swift, that is okay! You are allowed to like and dislike whoever or whatever you want. You don’t, however, get to be an asshole to the people who DO like her. Seriously, the amount of HATE that has been online since TTPD dropped is insane. Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Period. That doesn’t mean you get to be a jerk because someone doesn’t agree with you. PERIOD.

I don’t know why Taylor Swift triggers everyone so much. I really don’t. I’ve discussed this in a previous blog post. I don’t know if they don’t like her because she’s successful, because she’s a woman, or because she’s all over the news. .. like she doesn’t control the news, y’all? There are a lot of important things happening around the world right now, and yeah, they deserve coverage, and not her, but that’s not her fault? She doesn’t control the world, y’all. She’s not the Supreme Overlord. Like Jesus Christ, people.

You say “Taylor Swift,” and people are triggered like you said a curse word.

I hate this word with a fiery passion because it’s overused, but it’s so toxic. What is so wrong in your life that you feel the need to attack people on the internet because they like Taylor Swift? Are you that bored? Like, what? I don’t understand it.

Get over it, people.

If you don’t like the album or her, cool. You do you. Let us do us. Thank you.

Now, if you are a Swiftie, let me know what songs are your favorites! If you’re a casual listener, I want to know your favorite songs, too! If this is the first album of hers you’ve listened to, tell me what you think! We’ll probably have different opinions, but that’s okay! It’s all about respect. We don’t have to agree. But we should respect each other.

-K

The Blues (A Poem)

Posted in Me, Music, My Writing, Poetry, Taylor SwiftTagged , , , , Leave a comment

Blue eyes met mine across the dance floor as our old song played. I never asked why you always sang that one Tim McGraw song. 

I hold loosely in my hand a glass of rum and coke that you used to make fun of me for drinking. You always laughed when I asked to try your drink and wrinkled my nose. 

He asks me to dance with a small smile, holding out his hand to mine expectantly while my friends watch, and even though it’s been years, all I think is you. 

Blue reminds me of you. 

Of the smoke clinging to our clothes, the smell of cheap beer. The floor was sticky with booze and jello shots that made two-stepping a bit harder to do. Our boots got stuck on the floor. We’d laugh and stumble as we tried to get back into the groove of the country line dance. 

But you never could dance as well as I could. 

I’d sing the song in between saying One, two, three, and laughing as you kept looking at our feet. You kept stepping on my toes, and eventually, all we’d do was sway to Tim McGraw.

You never danced until that song came on. You insisted that you enjoyed watching my friends and I two-step, laughing as the fellas couldn’t keep up with how fast we’d swing—going around and around and around on the dance floor, my eyes catching your blue eyes every turn I took. 

Your friends would ask why you never got jealous as another guy would spin me around, tossing me up in the air like I was Baby in that movie you liked. You’d just smile and say you liked how my hair tumbled out of the messy bun it was in, how my glasses would end up in your pocket, how I’d end up shrugging off my cardigan because it got too hot on the dance floor, and how, no matter if the fella I was dancing with was really handsome, I would still turn and smile at you, all wide and sweet.

But then that song would come in. You’d cut quickly in between me and my dance partner. Then you’d take my hand, yours rough and calloused, my arms around your neck as you crooned the words, leaning down to brush your lips against my ear. 

It was the only time you sang to me.

And you’d sing as we swayed to the beat, the lights around us bright and hot. Couples around us clung to each other. Your hands on my hips were almost too tight. “The reasons that I can’t stay, don’t have a thing to do with being in love.”

Maybe if I would’ve asked, it would have gone differently. 

You always sang sad songs while I sang happy ones. And I remember the way your eyes crinkled as I sang Stay Beautiful, that twang you loved so much and that I hated just as much, more prominent. 

I’d lean up on my tippy toes and croon, “If you and I are a story that never gets told. If what you are is a daydream. I’ll never get to hold, at least you’ll know.”

But your eyes weren’t like the jungle. They were crystal blue, hard, and cold the day you left. And I remember those feelings. Nothing was as Cold As You when you said goodbye. And blue eyes lie all the time. So I tell him no, tell him I’m waiting for someone, but you never show up.

I remember screaming and crying, begging for you to stay. Showing you the pictures we took at the photo booth at the carnival, with your arms around my waist as I laughed, my hair wild around my face. My favorite one is where you are staring at me with this expression. When we were so in love. 

Remember when we were so happy? I ask. Even as you are packing up your bags. You blew twenty dollars trying to win me a stuffed panda. You never won it, but we still had fun. You keep packing your bags. I follow you out the door, throwing things at the car as you pull away. Later that night, the photo was just a Picture to Burn, some kindling to roast marshmallows as my friends tried to cheer me up.

I spent weeks writing songs, Teardrops on My Guitar, making the ink bleed and get all over my hand. Nothing felt right. No words summed up how I felt. There were no words to describe the pain.

My friends and I went back to the country club but every time I danced with a boy, I’d compare him to you.

His eyes weren’t blue enough.

His teeth weren’t straight enough. 

His voice wasn’t rough enough. 

You were off finding A Place in the World while I was picking up the shattered pieces of my heart. Getting stabbed along the way. You were with another girl who looked like me but wasn’t me. I was on The Outside, looking in, watching as you moved on.

While I couldn’t.

God knows I tried, but I couldn’t.

I saw the status that you and she are engaged now. All our friends are commenting on how happy they are for you. Every comment makes me die a little more. Every heart reaction makes me want to throw up. Baby, I’m Tied Together with a Smile while you erase me like you deleted all the photos of us on your page.

It’s like I never existed at all. Maybe I Should’ve Said No the first day you asked me out. That’s when it all changed, isn’t it? We when we changed the status quo.

I saw your mom the other day. She pretended like she didn’t know me, even though we’d been friends since we were kids. Remember when we wrote that song for her? Mary’s Song. You played the guitar, and I sang the words.

Oh, how your mother cried.

Towards the end, it was screaming and crying. It was cold shoulders and awkward silences. Dinners at the table where neither one of us spoke. We didn’t move the table to dance anymore. I didn’t lay my head in your lap as you read to me. There was nothing. It was only anger. Maybe Our Song was never “My Best Friend.” Maybe it was always “Angry All the Time.”

-K

Haters Gonna Hate, Hate, Hate

Posted in Music, My Writing, Politics, Real Life, Taylor SwiftTagged , , , , , 1 Comment

Can I just ask something? Why is there so much hate for Taylor Swift? Now, I might be a bit biased, no doubt, as I am a proud Swiftie, and nobody is going to shame me for liking her or her music. And yes, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, the amount of hate that some have for Taylor is, frankly, absurd. What is it about her that makes people hate her? It is something that has seriously bothered me for a while now. I think it hit the high note with her dating Travis Kelce from the Kansas City Chiefs. I’ll be honest with ya, I didn’t know who the heck Travis Kelce was until he and Taylor started dating. Football? Not my thing.

So she’s dating a football player. Who cares?

The hatred towards her has just hit the top lately, and I don’t understand it really. Again, proud Swiftie, so I’m biased. But I don’t get it.

Is it because she’s dating a famous NFL player?

Is it because she writes songs about her exes? 

Newsflash, she is not the first singer to write about her ex. Singers have been writing songs about their exes since music started, thank you very much. It’s not like Taylor invented it.

Stevie Nicks’ wrote a broke up song about one of the fellas in Fleetwood Mac and then made them sing it! Yeah, that’s right. Power to you, Stevie! (I can’t wait to see you in March!) Also, I’m pretty sure the guy she wrote the song about, in turn, wrote a song about her. Here’s a bit more information on that. (If you haven’t read up on the drama in Fleetwood Mac, boy, howdy, you should. It’s like a soap opera.)

My point is, songs about exes?

It’s not a new thing, y’all. Not at all. Yet, for some reason, I cannot fathom that Taylor has received so much hate over her albums being about exes. She didn’t invent it. Is it because she’s upfront about the fact she writes songs about relationships? Is that why she gets hate? She’s honest about what the songs she writes are about? 

Do we see male singers like Justin Timberlake, Justin Beiber, Ed Sheeran (nothing against him, love him), and other male artists who have also written songs about their exes? Hello, “Cry Me a River,” “Love Yourself,” and “Don’t.” Those are just a few. There’s more than that.

Why don’t the men get the same amount of hate for writing songs about their exes?

“Cry Me a River?” Yeah, it’s a total diss track. “Love Yourself” might sound all sweet. . .but it’s really saying “fuck you.” Just saying.

Here’s a bunch of songs that are all about exes.

I’d like to make the very important note that not ALL her songs are about her exes. “Forever Winter,” which is one of my favorite songs, is about her brother’s struggle with mental illness. “I’m Only Me When I’m With You” is about her best friend. “The Best Day” and “Soon You’ll Get Better” are both for and about her mother. “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” discusses politics. “The Man” discusses the double standard and casual sexism in society.

Check out the fantastic video below.

None of those are about her exes. Those are only a few examples of Taylor’s songs that aren’t a ‘diss’ track on an ex.

Here’s more on those. Check out the links below.

Taylor Swift doesn’t only write about her exes

For the Haters: Taylor Swift’s 30 Best Songs That Are Not About a Relationship

Also, do we forget the fact she writes or at least co-writes all her songs? She’s also written songs for other artists too.

“Better Man” originally came out as a Little Big Town song, but Taylor wrote the song. She later released her version of the song on Red (Taylor’s Version).

“You’ll Find Your Way Back Home” from Hannah Montana and performed by Miley Cyrus, Taylor wrote the song.

She’s also co-written songs with Calvin Harris, Train, Kellie Pickler, and others.

She’s got some songwriting chops.

So, why all the Taylor Swift hate? 

This is a question that I’ve constantly had in my head for a while. I really don’t understand the hate. I’m starting to think, wait, no. I know that it probably all leads back to misogyny. Does this really surprise me? No, not really, but come on. Really?

So, we all know about The Grammys, right? Huge music thing.

Now, I didn’t watch The Grammys. I never do. I read the results after it. After The Grammys, it was all over the internet. The sheer hatred because Taylor Swift won the coveted album of the year for the fourth time. And then there were headlines saying she somehow dissed Celine Dion? Then later, she and Celine Dion hugged backstage.

I don’t even know, y’all. I really don’t. Someone explain this insanity to me?

More headlines saying stuff like “I’m so sick of Taylor Swift, and here’s why.” There were a lot of headlines like that. Just sheer ridiculousness. She can’t control the fact that she’s trending. Taylor is big news right now with her Eras Tour, re-recording her previous albums, and, oh yeah, her new album dropping in April. As someone who was in journalism, they report on what’s trending. And guess what, it’s Taylor Swift.

Get over it.

Now, that being said, yeah, there’s a lot of other shit happening in the world that’s more important. You have the election coming up, Trump in general, the war in Ukraine, and so many other things. (About to be on a soapbox for a moment; bear with me) but it’s also difficult for me to read news stories or even watch them because they’re so completely biased. Or the headings are incredibly misleading (seriously, the headlines are terrible). Pretty sure all of my mass communication professors are yanking their hair out because the news has changed so much. The news is supposed to be unbiased and also, you know, FACTUALLY CORRECT. Y’all, we didn’t have a fact check on Facebook until Trump became President. Think about that for a moment.

Okay, soap box over. That is a whole other blog post.

Everyone is hating on Taylor Swift because she’s trending when it’s not like it’s her fault she’s trending. People film and write what they think will catch the audience’s attention. Guess what? That’s currently Taylor Swift.

I’ve scrolled on FB and seen posts of friends hating on her.

Why?

Because she has won the coveted album of the year four times? Who cares?

Because she’s trending all over the internet? See the above rant. Come on, y’all.

Did none of y’all see that Tracy Chapman sang with Luke Combs, and that was a perfect moment in history? A black woman singing with a white country male singer? That was a wonderful thing to see.  The sheer delight on Luke Combs face as Tracy Chapman sang. He looked at her singing nearly the entire time because he was so damn awestruck. Or what about her tears as she was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of love she received from the audience? How the entire audience was singing along to “Fast Car?” It was incredible.

If you haven’t watched it, please do. It’s amazing. I would’ve shared a video, but I couldn’t find a good one on YouTube.

What about Miley Cyrus? She won her first Grammy! She won Record of The Year for “FLOWERS.” YES, GIRL. YES. She also killed her performance! It was amazing. Honestly, I watched most of the performances, and they did so good.

Billie Eilish won Song of The Year with “What Was I Made For?” Like yes! It was like the year of women at the Grammys. Read more here on how women dominated The Grammys.

For more on who all won at The Grammys, check out this cohesive list on their site.

And somehow, everyone is focused on the fact Taylor won Album of the Year? Um, why?

You’re all focused on her and hating on her for reasons I do not comprehend.

The football fanatics lost their damn minds because she went to a game and got the spotlight. She can’t control that. She’s just going to the game to support her man. (Sidebar: The Chiefs won! Not that I really care either way. I don’t care about football. I know nothing about football. However, I was rooting for the Chiefs for Taylor. But also, I wanted them to win to make the little men lose their damn minds. Are the 49ers gonna come out and blame Taylor Swift for their loss? If the Chiefs hadn’t won, would everyone blame her? Probably, honestly.) Also, it’s not like she was the only celebrity who went to the Super Bowl! She wasn’t.

Every Celebrity at the Super Bowl in Vegas, from Paul Rudd and JAY-Z to Yes, Taylor Swift

All the celebrities at Super Bowl 2024: Taylor Swift, Paul Rudd and more

You don’t see everyone getting bent out of shape for all those celebrities showing up to the Super Bowl. Also, I highly doubt that Taylor Swift is the first celebrity to date a famous football player. Just saying.

She can’t control that the media is covering her. What’s she supposed to say? ‘Hey, stop filming me.’ ‘Hey, stop writing stories about me.’

She went to a football game.  

Big deal? Or you know. . .not?

You’ve got these men saying that Taylor Swift has ruined football for them.

Um.

Bros.

HOW??

How did one woman ruin football for you? Are you seriously that fucking fragile that even just one woman being at a football game makes your balls shrivel up to almonds? I can’t even with this. I really can’t y’all.

Now, not all men are like that. Thank the goddess. I saw this cute video of this dad who gave a shoutout to Taylor. Why? Because he had always wanted his daughter to go to a football. She didn’t go until she saw her idol Taylor going. And guess what? His daughter loved it!

Did you see this adorable ad for Cetaphil? This is a perfect commercial. Neither Taylor Swift, Travis Kelce, nor even the NFL were mentioned. Instead, they used all that in a subtle way for this cuteness. About a dad wanting to connect with his daughter and forming this adorable moment.

Seriously. It’s stinking adorable. I’m sure lots of dads suddenly found their daughters wanting to watch the game. Sure, some maybe didn’t like it. But they still hung out with their dads. How can you hate that? It’s so sweet!

Thanks to Taylor, a few daughters decided they wanted to watch the game with their dads, brothers, uncles, etc. How can you hate that? Also, I love the fact she (the girl in the video) is wearing a jersey with the number 13 and that they both are wearing friendship bracelets. Yes.

So, Taylor Swift inspired girls to go to football games. I think that’s pretty cool.

She also told people to get out there and vote. Now, she didn’t say vote for so and so. She just said vote. Here’s more on that story. That’s freaking amazing!

She’s also a major supporter of reproductive rights, an ally to the LGBTQIA+, and gives back to the communities she goes to for her tour. 

Here’s more on her generosity.

Now, you and I and everyone know that there is sexism (and racism, but that’s an entire other blog post) no matter what industry you’re in. Music, movies, TV shows, etc. It’s everywhere, which is very unfortunate. Do I wish there wasn’t? YES. DO I EVER.

You know what doesn’t help? This right here! Because it’s not just men who hate on her. It’s also other women. Ladies, we get enough shit from the men; can’t we at least have each other’s backs?

Just saying. 

I’m not saying you have to like her music or like her. Again, everyone is entitled to their own opinions. What I am saying is that the sheer hatred she gets is ridiculous. Honestly. I don’t see any reason to hate her. It’s uncalled for.

Like, what did she do to you?

Is it because she’s a successful woman?

What is it about Taylor Swift that makes everyone lose their minds?

I can’t understand it.

Does it give you something to do? Like you’d rather be a troll because you have nothing else to do? What is it?

Seriously. I don’t understand. I really don’t.

Why all the hate?

Again, I’m biased, and I’m freely admitting that. I love Taylor Swift. I have several posts about her on this blog. I love her music. (SHE HAS A NEW ALBUM DROPPING APRIL 19th. YES.) She’s a PR genius. She knows how to promote her music. She donates money. She LOVES her fans. Honestly, that feels a bit rare. So many celebrities, whether artists, actors, etc., seem to trash on their fans, and I ain’t about that.

I think this all really leads back to one thing: sexism. I think that’s the root cause of why people like to hate her. And basically, on any successful woman ever.

Sexism.

The patriarchy.

Because, for some reason, a successful woman hurts a man’s fragile ego.

Well, in the words of my girl Taylor, fuck the patriarchy.

Women aren’t here to cater to men’s fragile egos. Get over yourselves. You can’t handle a successful woman? That’s a you problem. Not a me problem. What is so damn threatening about a successful woman? Seriously. What the hell? As someone who works at a university and is surrounded by successful women, I don’t understand. It’s not like we’re taking anything away from you. I think if you, as a man, feel threatened by a successful woman so much that you have to be a hateful jackass, then the problem isn’t the woman.

It’s you.

There is something wrong with you when you feel threatened by a successful woman. Or hell, just a strong, independent woman wounds your fragile ego, then you are the problem. Not the women. Just saying.

I’d like to say we’ve come a long way with sexism. And in some ways, we have. Maybe. (Goddess, I hope so.) But it’s things like this that make me think, maybe we really haven’t come as far as I think. Sexism is still a major problem.

To end this blog, here are more stories on sexism.

In the words of Taylor: 

Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man

Fanfiction as a Genre

Posted in Fandom, Me, My WritingLeave a comment

I have been reading fanfiction since I was in high school. Before I had a smartphone, I’d read it on my computer. Most of the fanfiction I read in the beginning was Harry Potter. Not a surprise there. My love for Harry Potter is matched by my love for Taylor Swift. As long as I have been reading fanfiction, I have been writing. Let me tell you, I still have some TERRIBLE (no, seriously, it’s awful) Harry Potter fanfictions that will never see the light of day. Ever. I know writers say to appreciate your old writing because it shows you’ve grown, but yeah. No. I never want to see those fanfictions again. *shudders* Somethings, you don’t want to relive. The point is that fanfiction has been a part of my life for over ten years. I started my fanfiction journey on fanfiction.net then I discovered Archive of Our Own, also known as AO3. I don’t read a lot of books anymore (working on that), but I do read fanfiction. Why do you ask? Well, first, let’s talk about what fanfiction is.

Fanfiction is when a writer, not the author, creates a story based off a book, TV show, comic, anime, etc.. The writer takes the characters and comes up with an entirely different story. Fanfiction has often been condemned. People assume that others write fanfiction because they can’t produce something original.

I’d like to reject that very thought.

Fanfiction can be traced all the way to the 1700s when people wrote about Gulliver’s Travels. Yes, that’s right. It’s been around longer than you think. Also, when you really think about it (and I just know someone is going to be appalled by these next words), Dante’s Inferno, is basically fanfiction of the Bible. . .Yeah, digest that for a moment. I said what I said.

And I mean, think about all the books that are about Greek mythology. couldn’t those also be considered fanfiction? Think about it for a moment.

So fanfiction? It’s not new. People were creating zines of Spock and Captain Kirk’s adventures in the 1960s. Which, hey it was the 60s, so that was probably something people kept on the down low. With the internet and nearly everyone has a smartphone, fanfiction is a lot easier to find. There are sites dedicated to fanfiction.

When I was in high school. reading fanfiction was seen as nerdy. Too nerdy. Perhaps almost taboo. It wasn’t something you talked about with your friends. It was something private. Recently, it’s become more mainstream. It’s become more accepted. After all, how can it not when authors have come forward saying they read fanfiction? Hell, they have written fanfiction. Authors such as Cassandra Clare, E.L. James, Marissa Meyer, Meg Cabot, Neil Gaiman, and S.E. Hinton, to name a few, have admitted to writing fanfiction. We should all know E.L. James, the author of Fifty Shades of Grey.

Well, that book? It was originally an AU (alternate universe) fanfiction of Twilight. Yeah, that’s right. For more on that, read this blog post.

C.S. Lewis saw the value in fanfiction, as writers could explore the world further if the author had done all they could.

That’s not to say all authors write fanfiction or even that all authors support fanfiction. George R.R. Martin, whom everyone should know, wonders if fanfiction is even legal. Diana Gabaldon, author of Outlander and the late Anne Rice, also doesn’t support fanfiction.

As you can see, fanfiction is a mixed bag, even with authors.

So why does fanfiction get so much crap? For lots of reasons, really.

Fanfiction is seen as lazy.

There is also the fact that the fans are rabid when it comes to certain fandoms. Star Wars fans come to mind. (Not all. But the amount of hate they have towards Rey and other female characters is astounding.)

They don’t like change. They don’t like the idea of some other person writing their version.

How dare they make Captain America gay and in love with Bucky Barnes?

How dare they make Hermione Granger black?

How dare they.

How dare they.

How dare they.

People don’t like change. That’s just a fact.

Fanfiction writers, well, they have no boundaries. They will try and do anything they can do with these characters. There is nothing that is too much for them. They get to have fun. They get to interpret the story the way they see it, and that doesn’t always vibe with others.

Why is that so wrong?

I read fanfiction because sometimes, the story we got, it sucked.

Season eight of Game of Thrones comes to mind. I hated how that ended. Seriously, it trashed so many character arcs. I managed to find two different fanfictions that made it better. I wanted a different ending, and I got one.

Or maybe there are no new books or episodes, etc., and I wish there were. A few of my Harry Potter fanfictions I read are about after the War. What happens after? What happened between the Battle of Hogwarts and the 19-year gap?

Fanfiction continues the story. I get to hold on to these characters longer.

And honestly, the characters are important to me.

They are. They are to everyone. There is a reason why you were drawn to certain books and shows. It’s because you feel connected to them. I don’t see fanfiction as disrespectful. Now, obviously, fanfic writers shouldn’t claim it’s their own. They’re just playing in a sandbox and building their own castles out of something someone already built. I think that’s a beautiful thing. I have read some phenomenal fanfiction that perfectly captured the characters I’d fallen in love with.

There is this trope of a “Mary Sue,” a character who is basically yourself and being put in the movie, TV show, anime, comic, etc. (Rey from Star Wars was accused of being a “Mary Sue.”) Every likes to hate on these type of characters. But why? What is so wrong with putting yourself in your favorite book, show, movie, or anime because you want those characters to comfort you?

You want Dean Winchester to hug you because it’s Dean fucking Winchester. He makes you feel safe.

You want the Doctor to hold your shoulders, look deep into your eyes, and tell you that you are important. That you matter. He makes you feel special.

You want Wonder Woman to hand you a sword and a shield, standing next to you not as a superhero but as an equal. She makes you feel brave.

You want all of that.

And I don’t think that’s wrong.

Fanfiction is a genre of writing. It’s got its own rules, own categories, own tropes. I think that it is worth exploring. People write fanfiction out of love for the fandom. Fanfiction asks the question, ‘What if?’ It explores the possibilities.

This is how I explained why I write fanfiction to a few people.

Fanfiction, it is for fun. It is for me. Also, for readers (if I ever publish). with fanfiction, I don’t have to world-build. I get to play around with characters that I love without the headache of worldbuilding. The world? It’s already there. I can make an OC (original character) and throw her in with some of my favorite characters. Or I can just play around with those characters. The stress of worldbuilding isn’t there. Fanfiction, really, I think, is for the author. They had this wonderful idea and wanted to share it with the rest of us.

And I, personally, I think that’s beautiful.

That’s why I also read fanfiction because sometimes, I want the comfort of something familiar rather than something new.

All that being said, New Year’s, I deleted over 600 notes on my phone. All were fanfiction snippets. Yes, it was terrible, and I cried (Angela is my witness), but I did it because I wanted to write more on my own original stuff. Now, I won’t ignore the fanfictions I want to write and finish. I have this massive multifandom once that I am so in love with (seriously, in love). But now? I want to write my own stuff. I want my own story. It’s my goal for the year.

Fanfiction, I think, is important. It is a genre. And I think we need to give the fanfiction writers some kudos because, honestly, some of the best writing I’ve read has been fanfiction.

What are your thoughts on fanfiction? Let me know in the comments!

Here are some interesting articles on fanfiction.

From Star Trek to Fifty Shades: how fanfiction went mainstream

Approve or Disapprove: What 8 famous authors think of fanfiction

10 famous authors who write fanfiction

21 Authors Who Write Fanfiction

The Promise and Potential of Fan Fiction

-K