It's problematic that I can't play an instrument. I have all of these lyrics and no way to put them to music except my own voice.

B*tches In Bookshops

B*tches In Bookshops


Read so hard librarians tryin' ta FINE me­,
They can't identify me,
Checked in with a pseudonym, so I guess you can say I'm Mark Twaining. 
Read so hard, I'm not lazy.
Go on Goodreads, so much rated. 
Fountainhead, on my just read, gave it four stars, and then changed it. 
Read so hard, I'm literary. 
Goosebumps series, TOO SCARY!

Animal Farm, Jane Eyre
Barnes & Nobles, Foursquare it
No TV, I read instead 
Got lotsa Bills, but not bread
BURROUGHS , GOLDING, SHAKESPEARE -- all dead

Read so hard, got paper cuts
On trains while you're playin' connect the dots 
All these blisters from turning pages 
Read so hard, I'm seeing spots 

Your Sudoku just can't compare
Nor Angry Birds cos lookit here
My Little Birds is getting stares 
(pause)
This print's rare.

Read so hard, I memorize, The Illiad... I know lines.
Watch me spit, classic lit, epic poems that don't rhyme.
War and Peace, piece of cake, read Tolstoy in 3 days.
Straight through, no delays.
Didn't miss a word. Not one phrase.

Read so hard librarians tryin' ta fineee me - That shit cray x 3
Read so hard librarians tryin' ta fineee me -- That shit cray x 3

He said Shea can we get married at the Strand 
His Friday Reads are bad so he can't have my hand 
You ball so hard, OK you're bowling 
But I read so hard, I'm JK Rowling 

That shit cray 
Ain't it, A? What you readin'?
AQ: DeMontaigne.
You use a Kindle? I carry spines. 
Supporting bookshops like a bra, Calvin Klein. 

Nerdy boy, he's so slow 
Tuesday we started Foucault
He's still stuck on the intro? He's a no go.
It's sad I had to kick him out my house though --
He Mispronounced an author - MARCEL PROUST 

Don't read in the dark
I highlight with markers
While laying in the park
And wearing Warby Parkers
Marriage Plot broke my heart 
And it made me read Barthes 
I special ordered a 
A softcover not hard- HUAH?AHEHA?! 

Read so hard libraries tryin' ta fine me x 2

I am now marking my place
Don't wanna crease on my page
Don't let me forget this page
Don't let me forget this page
I may forget where I left off so I'll use this little post it...
I hope it doesn't fall out, I hope that it stays stickie... 

I am now marking my place
Don't wanna crease on my page
Don't let me forget this page
I got bookmarks at home
But I forgot one for the road
AQ: I got a bookmark I can loan
La Shea: Know how many bookmarks I own?

I am now bookmarking my page x3
Don't let me forget this PAGE....

I'm sorry if I seem overly sensitive about this

and it’d be different if it weren’t so insulting and uncomfortable and making me remember things that have happened to me before, such as groping and stalking. I got ice cream and the guy said, “You have pretty eyes!” and I said, “Thanks!” and it was fine. He wished me a nice evening when I left a little later. That’s friendly. That’s a compliment. But it makes me feel trapped and horrible when strange guys say something sexual, unwarranted and inappropriate in public. It’s even worse when they’re just LEERING, because then I look crazy if I’m like “Stop.” There is a SIGNIFICANT difference between flirting and leering. 

FLIRTING IS: Eye contact, smile, glancing, sticky eyes, playful, respectful, paying attention to if she is rigid or if she is smiling back

HARASSMENT IS: Staring for prolonged amounts of time, getting closer, touching, continuing to try and get her attention, licking your lips, etc when she is continually trying to ignore you, following.

The difference is VAST to a women. 

*edit* The difference is vast to ANYONE dealing with this.

Today I was told, once again, "You'd look prettier if you smiled, sexy!"

And while that is certainly the most mild catcall I've gotten in a while...No. Just No. I am tired of the leering and staring and clicking and groping and "HEY GIRL" and "sweetie" and all of this. NO. STOP.
For one thing, I didn't ask if you thought I was pretty. I am not here to be 'pretty' for you. I am not here for your opinion. I'm getting coffee. Black. Because if I don't get some sort of caffeine soon, I am liable to turn back and give you a piece of my mind.
I am not here, walking down a public street, to provide aesthetic pleasure. Go to a damn museum.
I am MOST CERTAINLY not here for you to touch. And I am not an animal that will come with a click or a whistle or a call.
This is not about having a conversation. If that were it you'd ASK me about something you can't SEE and you'd wait for an answer.
This is not about giving a compliment. A compliment is respectful and meant to make the other person feel better without expecting gratitude or favors. A compliment is respectful. NOT proclamations of what you'd like to do to me, not yells out of cars. You CANNOT claim a walk-by or drive-by call as a compliment. You saw me for .5 seconds from a distance! How would you even know what I look like?? That has nothing to do with "complimenting", it's a way to do something to me that you know I can't respond to because you're off at 40 MPH or I'm in a rush. It's a public place and then look bad for making a scene (because you know, that's what overly emotional, weak, sensitive WOMEN do, right? Must have PMS or something, right?)
If you were TRULY interested in me or wanted to get to know me, you wouldn't be a coward and say something that you know I could never or would never respond positively to. No, you're too afraid of being rejected by a woman, of not looking 'like a man' or being 'friendzoned'. YOU'RE AFRAID. So instead, you make me helpless. And if you're a real jerk, you follow me or leer or breathe down my neck on the bus and make ME afraid to make yourself feel better.
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.
THERE ARE NO EXCUSES OR EXCEPTIONS TO STREET HARASSMENT. The way I walk, the way I dress, how I look, or my gender do not give you permission.
There will NEVER, EVER be a situation where street harassment is okay. I don't care what excuse you have. In American culture, a Misogynist culture, a rape culture, it is not okay. Those are the conditions women in America are living in, and you HAVE to respect that.
You don't know if the woman you are calling at is lesbian or asexual, or a victim of sexual abuse or stalking or suffering from PTSD that will be triggered. You don't think about her as a person or her life or her past. If you're a white man saying this to a Woman of Colour, it's worse. You don't realize that she is a victim of exotification and oppression and made to fear for herself daily and you don't care that you're making it worse. That's just it. You don't care about anything but what YOU want to do in that moment; feel powerful.
The good news is? It's never too late to stop and change your ways. And you'd better. Because I'm done. Because I'm calling you out. You can call me cold or call me a bitch or whatever you want, but I am not taking this anymore, because if I can stop you from doing it to ONE other women because I bite back, it'll be worth it.

Look How You Like

    You often hear people (girls in particular) who look "different" decrying appearance based bullying and asserting their right to feel beautiful and comfortable in their skin. They have nothing but positivity in supporting other girls who love themselves and their bodies and who want to look different than is what is promoted in mass media. They love their bodies in their natural state, or at least are trying to. And that's great. 
    But it's unfortunate that in my experience I have found that many (though not all) of those same, "I'm beautiful the way I am"/"altgirl" promoters are some of the first ones to respond negatively to girls who do  prescribe to the thin, tan, straight haired beauty standard. GOD FORBID someone decides to get plastic surgery to enhance or change anything or else deal with the distasteful cries of "plastic!" and "fake!"
    What these particular people don't seem to understand is that it's this behavior that is JUST as harmful as calling someone names because their thighs touch and their hair is blue. Moreover, it is extremely counterproductive to the very "accept all types of beauty" ideology they toute so persistently.
    Everyone deserves to look the way that they want to look without being persecuted for it, and it really is no one's place to set one standard of beauty or appearance as better, worse, or more legitimate than any other. As for plastic surgery? One wouldn't lambast someone for deciding to lose weight or for dying their hair. Plastic surgery does not give anyone a free pass to ridicule the person who got it. Just as no one has the authority to tell you to change how you look, no one has the authority to give you flack because you did decide to make the personal decision to change the way you look. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but that doesn't mean that the beholder has any authority to make someone else feel inferior.
    I feel that especially in a world where both trans and ciswomen deal with ridicule and degradation based on our appearance  and approved stereotypes, so much of our approval is based on the say that others have on our looks, we need to show one another as much love as possible. Bullies come in many forms, and there is no reason to make someone feel horrible about how they look.

Pop Addictions

Music junkie that I am, I have a soft spot for bubblegummy pop. Of course to balance that out, I've got an older but edgy song.



Carlie Rae Jepsen "Call Me Maybe"



Metric "Help, I'm Alive"

Impromptu Piece

I inhabit

the lifetimes that live in

shared seconds with strangers

where the girl with my same

book becomes a confidante

and the blind man in passing

becomes a provider of

sagacious wisdom over weekly coffee

and from locked eyes

the chocolate haired boy

leaves some crumpled bills

on the table and rushes over

to ask my name.

Rather, a slight nod,

a ducked glance

or pinkening face prevails.

I would almost rather never notice

these minute splendors of strangers

than to constantly fleetingly fall

in love with their humanity. 

Seen & Not Heard

    I've been as opinionated as my parents for as long as I can remember. I come from two highly charged, very stubborn, progenitors. I was never entirely sure why they got together in the first place; besides the common familial dysfunction and impoverished background, they were almost complete opposites in both personality and beliefs. In spite the typical problems that plagued a very young marriage with very small children, I blamed the divorce on my perception of their inability to just stop fighting. Even though it was an act of incredible strength for my mother to leave, for a long time I blamed her for not just toughing it out and making it work.
    While being home schooled for the majority of my elementary years by my mother and her promotion of self-education and individuality was great for my intellectual development, it only encouraged my stalwart views and irrepressible quirkiness. These qualities were embraced by my mother, but preteens didn't have the same appreciation. The adjustment to middle school was rough. After being bullied about it (among other things), not only did I stop talking about my beliefs and opinions, I started pretending to agree with the opposite to fit in. More accurately, I just shut up. I was made to be so ashamed of having thoughts on the world around me and beliefs of what was right and wrong, so afraid to be called names because of what I thought and that I thought at all, because I disagreed with the ignorance and disrespect that was status quo around me, I just caved. Inwardly, I just hated myself more.
    I was lucky enough to enter an Arts high school where people were more accepting of my eccentricity. The bullying stopped. I was enthusiastic to be in a place where intellectual, political and philosophical discourse were largely welcome. However, in social situations I was still very careful to show restraint. As has always been fairly typical in high school, it's never been cool to care.
    A different kind of pressure became imminent at this point; for the first time, I became noticed in a romantic way by a select few boys. This became a weight almost as large as the bullying had been before; if I did the right things, it could be great...but there was the potential to screw up if I didn't stay cool. Don't be sensitive. Don't be stupid. Gropes and jokes and kitchen humor weren't a big deal; no one else was offended. Why did it bother me so much? It had been drilled into me by boys, other girls, older men and women, and every piece of media that I had ever encountered, that if I wanted to be liked by the opposite sex I needed to be mysterious. Attractive. I needed to “lure” them in with my silence. In other words, loud, opinionated girls weren't cute.
    At 15, one of my first heartbreaks was because I broke this rule (I wasn't catholic. And I wouldn't have sex with him. Go figure.) No matter how much I wanted to see things his way, subscribing to views that completely opposed everything I felt true in my gut weren't okay and I couldn't make them be. So, after feeling like I ruined everything by being overly sensitive and uncooperative, the silence continued. With my next boyfriend, I was fortunate enough to be in a relationship where discussions and debates were open. We could agree or agree to disagree on most things, but when I broached topics such as double standards within the relationship and gender related issues and stereotypes, things got uncomfortable. When I pointed out the overt sexism that made itself present in social situations with friends, communication broke down. Again, the message was clear: good girls stay quiet.
    I have only recently started the process of convincing myself that not only is being a woman and embracing that this is okay. I can be proud of it. Though it requires a mental vigilance, I am rewiring the instinct to endure internal disquiet in silence and to keep my opinions to myself around men. The right men (the right people in general) will be attracted to someone who stands for themselves and what they believe in. I don't always believe that, but I have to reassert that it's true; There is nothing wrong with me or with asserting my rights when others are attempting to silence them. No one should have to be afraid to tell someone that they don’t think the treatment they are being told to endure is wrong or be afraid of backlash that might result. Though it seems fairly simple to say that, it’s not something we, as a people, have adhered to. I will always be ashamed for not standing up for my right to have opinions and for not defending my beliefs as I was growing up, but the only way to mend that is to not make the same mistakes.
    The more I educate myself on issues having to do with various isms, the more I find it not only right, but imperative that I call others out on their ignorance and insensitivities, assert the truth, and constantly re-evaluate my thoughts and recognize oppressive behavior in others and myself. I hope help generate awareness for the various types of hatred that manifest themselves in the world, society and (though no one likes to admit it) some types of hatred that have become wrongly inherent within ourselves.
    I don't claim to have some terrible life or to be some helpless victim (I wouldn't disrespect what my parents did for me or try to ignore my privilege in that way). I am a fairly average straight, white, ciswoman. I just hope that in relaying my experience, I show younger people like me that there is something very wrong with the social environment that I and countless others have grown up in. I don't want my little sister, in Jr. High and newly thirteen, to think that a society that hates demonstrations of knowledge, of difference, that tells its women to be quiet, mild, apathetic, mediocre and unassuming, does not need to be challenged or changed.