I always want to be able to feel free to speak my mind, even if it means openly disagreeing with someone. I like that Poe says “with friend and foe.”

Honesty is one of my favorite traits in another person, and I don’t want a friend that is constantly tip-toeing around my feelings. I want a friend that is able to be frank with me and let me know if I am screwing something up.

Whenever the word “bold” is used, my eye is drawn to it, perhaps because this is one of the traits that I want to describe me. I want to be known as a fearless, strong, bold person who is great to have on your team.

I don’t know exactly how close I am to this goal, but whatever. All I can do is strive to fulfill it every day.

There’s no way I can pick a single day.

I want to go back and relive all the days I spent with my dad, and all the days I pitched a fit at my mom and she didn’t deserve it.

And as I’m sitting here thinking of all the things I regret. Things that I would go back and change if I could.

And I’m reminded that I want to live my life with no regrets, or whatever the cliche is.

Basically, when I maybe see this question again 5 years from now, I don’t want to have 10 new shame-filled events to list.

I’ve been watching documentaries lately. It is becoming a real problem because I think I am starting to see more conspiracies than normal. I now have guilt trips about fast food, Wal-mart, anything NOT organic, anything organic (because it might be inorganic masquerading as organic), you name it. I don’t trust labels, advertisements, politicians, teachers, or police officers. This has to stop. I feel some kind of pressing need to move out of this country but have no means nor determination to do so.

About the strawberries: I just like how they look. I don’t know how they tie into the post.

I think I’m gonna take this blog in a different direction. Maybe more of the actual crazy babble that is in my head and less of the proper and palletable ladylike writing. I have to send these thoughts somewhere, I suppose. I might explode.

Maybe someone, somewhere, will read my blog and actually want to come back and read it again because it is 100% genuine.

So the original point: Documentaries can make you doubt what you’ve believed your whole life. In 90 minutes, they can totally rewire your brain if you allow them to.  It is especially easy when the evidence they provide is too profound to deny, like video footage and signed documents.

A short poem for those who hate paragraphs:

If you see me

On a ledge

Won’t you call me down?

I wouldn’t be

On a ledge

If you had seen me frown.

–

Have a delicious summer day.

-Little Miss Ray

]]> http://raybear.wordpress.com/2010/07/12/genuine/feed/ 2 Ray strawberry http://raybear.wordpress.com/2010/02/02/discovery/ http://raybear.wordpress.com/2010/02/02/discovery/#comments Tue, 02 Feb 2010 23:23:21 +0000 Rachel http://raybear.wordpress.com/?p=165 ]]> Little miss Ray is slowly dying of a strange mix of boredom and stress. How do these two opposing things mix? I am stressed because I am constantly doing things, but I am bored with the things I have to do. Make sense?

So I have taken to listening to Jason Mraz radio on Pandora. It calms me.

I want to be here:

Like why would an apartment complex install high-maintenance, easily stained carpet instead of cheap linoleum or laminate. Maybe so they have a valid reason not to return my deposit. Or because it’s slightly less expensive. Who knows.

I know I have made these type of lists before, but I enjoy them.

Serving tables gives you an entirely new opinion of people. Sometimes bad, sometimes good. Mostly bad.

Dear customers,

1. I hate it when you are  on the cell phone and hold your finger up while mouthing the words “one minute.” Then take 5 more minutes on the phone while I wait, watching from a distance for you to hang up. When you finally do, I come over to take your order and you act irritated, like I’ve taken to long to greet you.

2. I hate it when you are so nice and friendly the entire time, then tip me $2.00 on $2o.00.

3. I hate it when you don’t complain at all, and seem happy, then when my manager visits your table, you make a comment which to you seems offhanded, but I get in trouble because of what you said.

4.  I hate it when you mispronounce things on the menu, and STILL mispronounce it once I or someone at your table corrects you. It’s like some kind of willful ignorance.

5. I hate when you let your children have free roam of the restaurant.

6. I hate when you prance in with your perfect husband, your Prada bag, your Affliction shirt, and your Coach sunglasses yet can’t afford to tip me 20% even when I treat you like the royalty you think you are.

7. I hate when you need something every time I pass the table. You are annoying.

8. I hate when you shred paper items all over the table. I hate cleaning up tiny bits of straws and sugar packets because you’re a nervous nelly.

9. I hate when you try to tell me about Jesus.

10. I hate when you teenagers come in and barely manage to stop giggling and chatting long enough to tell me you want the kids meal. Then you need me to refill your coke every 5 minutes and at the end say “keep the change,” attempting to tip me, even though the change is less than a dollar.

I wish that writing about the good things that people do was more fun. Those occurrences are too rare, for one, and I feel like I would vomit from typing 10 “Chicken Soup for the Server’s Soul” moments.

I just don’t have it in me to enjoy uplifting conversation. It’s a huge downfall.

Hope everyone had a good Christmas. Don’t drive drunk on New Year’s Eve, okay?

In a nutshell, Mike Vick is allowed to once again play for the NFL after being convicted of a felony charge for dog fighting. He can attend all preseason practices, workouts, and meetings and will even be allowed in games if he can find a team that will sign him.
He only spent 20 months in prison.

Pitbulls are not meant to look like this: 1 , 2 , 3.

They should look like this: 1 , 2 , 3.

And Mike Vick should no receive just a slap on the wrist. Many people have their careers ruined over less offenses than dog fighting. Vick should, in my opinion, barely be allowed to play football in his backyard, much less in the NFL.

The NFL should cage him up and torture him every day by withholding food, water, and adequate shelter. They should only let him out at game time. And during games, when defensive linebackers are chomping down on his face and neck, forcing him to defend himself with violence, his coach should shout at him and belittle him. If he loses the struggle, he should be beaten and then caged again.

This way he will truly understand the severity of the crimes he committed, by feeling exactly what his dogs were forced to endure.

He has helped to perpetuate the stereotype that dogs such as pitbulls are vicious and dangerous animals, unable to be rehabilitated. He also helped the phrase, “You can take the boy out of the ghetto but you can’t take the ghetto out of the boy,” seem extremely realistic. Thanks, Vick.

Below are pictures of my very own “vicious” pitbull.

He sure loves to play dress up. Actually, he HATES the hoodie but will proudly wear the “Mike Vick hate club” shirt wherever he goes. I love this dog!

I got my license back and have been driving around every chance I get. It’s such a relief to be able to drive to the store.

Don’t take your guns to town.