#THEN going she would love to say pseudo intellectual shit about dating women. and the woman in question is every tiktok normie femme lesbian

[tiktaalic]

Not all women would be happier if they were lesbians. But Taylor swift would be.

[artificialqueens]

Paper Boats, Pining, and the Sublime (Sashea) - Estuary

Summary: Sasha loves spending nights out with her best friend, Shea. Tonight is no exception. She wishes she could stop overthinking.

A/N: This is my first fic. It’s a a fluffy, pining piece and I hope y'all like it.

        Laughing loudly with little concern for slumbering tenants in nearby apartments, Sasha Velour and Shea Couleé meandered through dimly lit streets, part walking, part skipping, and part stumbling.

        "You’re sure that you know where we’re going? We’re nearing city limits,“ Sasha asked as Shea paused to ponder whether to make a right.

        "Yeah! But you have to promise you won’t bully me once I explain why we went there.” Shea replied, turning back from her decision-making to smile at Sasha.

        "You know I can’t bully you, Shea,“ Sasha hiccupped, remnants of drinking slurring her speech, "You would destroy me.”

        "You’re right bitch, but I’m still making you promise.“

        "Cross my heart.”

        Sasha knew there was another reason she couldn’t really bully Shea, one outside of Shea’s potential retaliation roasts. A reason related to how Sasha could find no real flaw in Shea. A reason that could not be acknowledged nor acted upon lest Sasha risk her friendship for rejection. A reason that was Sasha’s crippling, painful, constant love for Shea Coulée.

        Sasha was rational, she prided herself on it. She knew Shea wouldn’t want to date someone like her. Someone overly serious, anxious, and academic.

        Shea dated uber confident, runway-walking, impeccably styled women. Intimidatingly stunning women. 5-feet-long-legs women. The kind of women you could hear approach you on the street just from the sound of their clicking stilettos on cement.

        It wasn’t unusual that an amateur street photographer would ask to take Shea and her supermodel of the week’s photo. To ask to document them in all their glamour and elegance.

        When Shea and Sasha went out for Friday night drinks, it needn’t be said that there were no photo proposals.

        It was simple, really. It wasn’t that being a bald, unibrowed, peculiarly-dressed woman was bad. Sasha liked how she looked. It’s just that Shea didn’t like that. Shea didn’t want someone who looked like a statement. And she certainly didn’t want a pseudo-intellectual with a penchant for doubling down on and over-explaining said statement all the time. So there wasn’t any need to make a move. Any proposition would be laughable at best and friendship-destroying at worst.

        Despite all of that heart-crushing rationality, Sasha did allow herself some small indulgences. For instance, Sasha allowed prolonged mutual eye contact, as long as she looked away first. She could rest her head on Shea’s shoulder during a movie, as long as Shea was appropriately preoccupied with the film. On a few rare occasions, Sasha placed a delicate kiss on Shea’s hand in a show of silly, exaggerated cordiality.

        Nonetheless, Sasha’s general rule of thumb was that as soon as any of her actions couldn’t be waved away with the excuse of being an ‘affectionate friend’, it had to stop.

        She didn’t need to think about how the glittery, red mark of her lipstick on the back of Shea’s hand made her chest feel fuzzy and warm.

        Shea suddenly tossed her hair and announced: “Oh my god, my hands are so cold."

        "I told you that you should bring your gloves.” Sasha chastised, remembering her text message warning.

        "Girl, don’t look smug over my pain.“

        And before Sasha could begin to think about what she was doing, she reached out and grabbed Shea’s right hand with her left and earnestly shoved their joined hands into her jacket pocket.

        "T-to warm you.” Sasha stammered. Fuck. Sasha didn’t stutter. More importantly, Sasha didn’t grab her friend’s hands given the slightest opportunity and shove them into her pocket like some kind of middle schooler. Shea had to see Sasha’s inner turmoil.

        Shea smiled—is she smiling? Sasha’s frantic mind paused to wonder—and simply squeezed Sasha’s hand. They walked on, and as Shea chattered about the ins and outs of her most recent collection, Sasha became increasingly aware of how Shea’s hand stayed firmly wound with her own. By the third minute of Sasha’s internal count, she swore that her left hand was dripping with sweat. Shea’s hand had to feel warm now, if not a little gross. The cold air had to be preferable to Sasha’s clammy fingers. But Shea did not let go.

        Sasha never held hands like this. Typically whenever she held hands, the sweaty palms belonging to her and whatever partner she had at the time would clasp much like two business people finalizing a deal. It was practically an extended handshake. It held all the intimacy of accidentally brushing hands with a cashier. In private, Sasha didn’t hold hands much at all.

        But not right now.

        Deep within the pocket of Sasha’s fleece, each of her and Shea’s fingers carefully interlaced, weaving together. It felt as if she each needed as much hand-to-hand contact as possible. Like Sasha needed it to breathe. Like Shea was rooting Sasha other to the ground. Like if the moment Shea’s finger slipped from Sasha’s hand, she would vanish, gone like a puff of smoke.

        "Sasha!“ Shea gasped, shaking Sasha from her introspection. "We’re here.”

        Sasha looked up, suddenly noticing the transition from concrete sidewalk to a grassy slope. Further beyond, the grass hill transitioned into a sandy bank where the water of a slow-moving river gently lapped.

         "Shea, it’s lovely.“

        "I’m glad you like it. This place means a lot to me. When I was young, I’d race like, little paper boats here with my friends. When I got older, I’d come just to sit, like the river could drown out my thoughts. Emo shit.” Shea gave a small smile at the last part of her admission.

        "I wouldn’t bully you for emo shit, Shea. I’ve been there,“ Sasha promised, recalling Shea’s earlier worries. Sasha grinned, imagining an elementary-school Shea, tottering by the banks of the river, which then morphed into an older, rebellious, sadder Shea. It contrasted so strangely with the vibrant, glamorous woman she was now. Glancing at Shea now, with her plum-colored smile and twinkling eyes, impeccable style and life, it became all the more challenging to see her as an angsty teen upset with the situation she seemed to always make the best of.

        "I have something for us to do. While we’re here, just if you feel like it.” Shea reached for her purse, fumbling with the zipper as the long, lacquered nails of her left hand clacked against the metal fastening. Shea finally tugged open the bag after a long struggle of attempting to hold the purse steady and yank the zipper open with only one hand. Sasha warmed internally upon realizing that Shea’s right hand remained interwoven in Sasha’s own, regardless of temperature or how much easier it would be to open a purse with two free hands.

        "Girl, I know it’s kind of childish, but I brought,“ Shea paused and unearthed two sheets of lined paper, folded into quarters.

        "Binder paper?”

        "No! Well, yeah, but I thought we could make boats and sail them. I have markers too.“

        There is quite a lot of debate on what it feels like to die. Sasha had read much of it in fascination in a philosophical tangent. A specific side of the discussion assumes that it would be quite painful. Regardless of how correct that position really was, when noted bad bitch Shea Couleé eagerly held up two pieces of lovingly creased binder paper, Sasha felt for a split second that she was in so much pain that she had to be dying. The cavity in her chest could not fit her heart as it swelled and grew. Shea Couleé, the pinnacle of presentation, confidence, was nervously presenting her friend with a child’s crafting activity that she had grown up with. Sasha’s face lit up as her chest tightened, her free hand took one of the papers as her head pounded. As Shea’s beautiful hand slipped from her own to hand her markers from her purse, Sasha’s throat closed up, gummy with her overwhelming love. Sasha felt like her hands were full of sand, desperately trying to keep it from seeping through the cracks in her fingers. Like love was seeping through the cracks of herself. Sasha couldn’t allow that.

        After guiding Sasha through the basics of boat-folding, Shea insisted that she keep her design a secret to "prevent copying,” and turned away, covering the Sasha-facing side of her boat with her hand. Shea focused so intensely on coloring designs that Sasha was free to semi-covertly steal glances at her friend and shove her rising emotions down her throat with little fear of being caught.

        Shea had taken her to her teenage refuge. Shea had invited her to take part in an activity fondly embedded in her childhood. Shea held Sasha’s hand. And Shea had not let go.

        It felt like she couldn’t breathe. As she admired Shea’s furrowed brow, her unwavering gaze, the faintest hints of smile lines, Sasha felt like she had to look away. It was too much.

        Sasha remembered a word she learned in an Art History class. Sublime. Something sublime is not merely beautiful. It is not gorgeous. It is so stunningly magnificent that it terrifies you. It shakes you to your core. It scares you because you cannot even begin to comprehend how wonderful and immense and powerful it is. The depth and power of the ocean were sublime. The Grand Canyon was sublime. And above everything, Shea was sublime. She was so powerful and intelligent, beautiful, and deeply sweet that nothing else in Sasha’s life would ever compare.

        "Shea?“

        Turning, Shea responded, "Yeah? I finished my boat–"

        "Shea, I have to say this now. And if it ruins our friendship, I’m so sorry.” Sasha stated quickly, loathing how the slight quiver in her voice made her sound childlike.

        Leaning forward, eyebrows raised, Shea just stared.

        "Shea, I’m so… scared.”

        Shea’s eyebrows raised even higher than before. That’s not how I should have phrased it, Sasha winced at her own words. She slowly met Shea’s gaze, took a deep breath, and then continued:

        “Every time I’m with you, I’m terrified. I don’t know if anyone feels like this, or if anyone is supposed to feel like the way I do when I’m around you. I love you so much because you are so impossibly wonderful.

        And upon saying this, Sasha felt her words speed up and begin emerging of their own voalition, becoming more and more certain as they materialized in the night air.

         "You are like, the, the incomparable expanse of the universe, and when I’m next to you, it’s like I’m sitting next to all the stars in the sky, and I’m so scared. But I never want to be brave again if it means I’ll be without you. I love you because you’re so confident, and I love you because you’re kind, and I’m in love with you because you love a river and paper boats, and you share all of that with me.“

        Sasha closed her eyes and exhaled very deeply, trying not to focus on the deafening silence after her mammoth, rambling, declaration of love. But as her breath left her mouth, it caught on someone else’s lips. Lips that then pressed against her own, firmly, insistently. Lips belonging to one Shea Couleé.

        Sasha’s hands eagerly fumbled for Shea’s waist and pulled her closer, reveling in the kiss and cursing her fingers for obviously trembling.

        The kiss felt so good.

        So much of Sasha’s life lived under the contradiction of celebrating her style and uniqueness but still internally feeling that it made her unworthy of love. So she had to shove it down. To repress it and restrain it. But in one swift movement of her lips, Shea took the crumbling remains of the wall holding back Sasha’s love and obliterated it. Sasha’s love just burst, expanded, surrounded. Sasha wanted to just bask in all of it and to bask in how Shea felt the same way.

        "Look down,” Shea whispered against Sasha’s lips. Despite feeling slightly reluctant to stop kissing so soon, Sasha followed Shea’s instruction. Her eyes widened as she saw a paper boat placed on her lap. The paper boat had a pink heart on the side and large, bold blue letters that said: I love you.

        "Really?“ Sasha gasped, holding Shea’s waist even tighter.

        "Obviously.”

        "Shea, it was rhetorical,“ Sasha gently stroked Shea’s long, thick hair off of her face. "But, you brought me here… with the paper… to tell me you l–”

        "Yes, now shut up you goddamn egg,“ Shea laughed, hushing Sasha with another kiss, pushing her back against the slope of the hill, cradling her head.

        Now, it’s almost always true that parties involved in an event or occurrence are typically biased when referencing the incident. It is absolutely true that Sasha is biased when looking back on this particular event. But when describing that kiss on the hill, Sasha would say that it was positively sublime.

[teaveetamer]

My Issues With TFioS (and Other Elements of John Green)

Alright I’m just going to preface this with two things.

It’s been about six years since I’ve read the entire thing through, so my points are probably not going to be as detailed or precise as they were when I first read it.

If you enjoyed the book, identify with the fanbase, or like John Green in any capacity... Great! You might want to skip this one. This is definitely not the post for you. I’m going to put all of my more controversial thoughts under the cut so if you don’t want to see them you can just move on.

I brought up the book in that other post because I felt it had relevance to the discussion of “authors using characters as a mouthpiece”, but that’s only a small part of my issue with the book itself. I suppose I could have used a fanfiction example, since there’s more than enough fodder there, but I brought up The Fault in our Stars specifically because I feel comfortable criticizing a book in a way that I don’t feel comfortable criticizing fan works. John Green is a public figure that produced a paid product, made money, and does this professionally, while most fanfic authors are amateurs that provide free entertainment and just do it for fun.

Now with that said, we move on to the meat of the post.

Some Background

Perhaps this is not a little known fact, but I absolutely adore love stories. I don’t have incredibly high standards for them by any means, and in fact I actively enjoy them even when they aren’t the deepest, most thought provoking pieces. Someone got me a copy of Red, White, and Royal Blue for my birthday this year and I read the entire thing cover to cover in a day (and I seriously recommend if you’re looking for a pretty easy read with a lot of gay).

The only thing I love more than love stories? Tragic love stories, of course. If anyone has followed my fanfiction or main blog for any amount of time then you know that I love a little bit of tragedy. Usually with a happy ending, but not always. So when one of my friends shoved (and I mean literally shoved) The Fault in Our Stars  into my hands and billed it as a “tragic but heartwarming love story” I thought it would be perfect for me.

I was sixteen at the time, the target age demographic, and I was always looking for books with smart, well written teen characters. At this point in my life I’d never heard of John Green or his fanbase before. I tell you this because I disliked the book as I read it, but I think John Green and his fanbase are a major factor in why I disliked it so much I’m willing to sit down and write a blog post about it six years later. Granted, that’s not all on the book, but it is a factor.

Needless to say, I was not all that impressed by it. At some points I was downright infuriated, really.

My Issues With the Book

In summary, it feels very meh and overly pretentious. After about two chapters I just wanted to put it down, and the only reason I pushed through is because my friend insisted that it got better. She said it was funny, relatable, and intelligent, but I found it to be none of these things.

The impression I got was that the author, whoever he was, fancied himself terribly clever and he wanted everyone to know it. You know the type, the kinds of people that go around and assure everyone of how smart they are? It feels like it was made for haughty teens to brag about how intelligent they were because they read a “deep” book.  The book itself, despite being a surface level of “witty”, didn’t really have anything to say. In the end it reads like a thirty-something year old man bragging about how smart he is and waxing philosophical about the nature of life (and... Breakfast food..?) and using a fictional teenage girl to do it.

That’s why I brought up the “mouthpiece” thing. I didn’t want to read a book about a thirty-something dressing up his thoughts as a teenage girl. I wanted to read a book about a teenage girl.

Speaking of Hazel Grace… I don’t know if this is a common experience, but can anyone else tell when a man writes a female character? I find that I usually can. Men have a particular voice when they write, and especially when they write women. Every single page hammered me over the head with the fact that this was a man who was trying (and, in my opinion, failing miserably) to write a relatable teenage girl. And, in my opinion, he parroted a lot of very upsetting, dangerous mentalities for young women.

There were quite a few “I’m not like other girls, and not just because of the cancer!” moments (a mentality that I find wholly problematic coming from other women, let alone a man writing for a woman) that just had me rolling my eyes straight out of their sockets. She doesn’t care about shoes, see! She reads books! Isn’t that awesome and unique? Because, apparently, women are not allowed to do both.

These problematic mentalities extend into the book’s romance plot, too. Augustus is, frankly, one of the creepiest motherfuckers I’ve ever had the displeasure to read about. Not only is his aggressive creepiness portrayed as romantic, but Hazel reacts exactly how men wish women would react to their advances. Unfortunately I don’t have a copy of the book in front of me so you won’t get much in the way of direct quotes, but some examples include:

He stares at her, completely unblinking, for the duration of their cancer kids support group meeting… before they’ve even so much as spoken a word to each other. Which also features this gem of a quote: "A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well." which just perpetuates the disgusting misconception that women are okay with being creeped on as long as a guy is attractive. Spoiler alert: We fucking aren’t.

He repeatedly refers to Hazel as “Hazel Grace”, despite her introducing herself as “Hazel” and asking him to just call her “Hazel”. And not only does he ask for her full name, he demands she give it to him. This rings all kinds of alarm bells for me, because you know who else does that kind of shit? Christian Grey. And it’s manipulative, disrespectful, and downright rude. It is essentially saying “I hear your desires, but I would prefer to address you how I want to address you, not how you would like to be addressed, because my ego is more important than your comfort”.

Hazel is perfectly fine with getting into a complete stranger’s car and spending time at his house mere minutes after meeting with him and after all of the questionable shit he just pulled.

Continuing this book’s litany of problems with women, let’s talk about Isaac’s (ex)girlfriend. The book treats their breakup as this massive betrayal, then even goes on to justify vandalizing her property because of it.

I’m sorry, but no.

You, as an autonomous human being, have the right to end a relationship with someone else whenever, wherever, and for whatever reasons you designate, regardless of previously expressed emotions or promises. How and when she did it was not the most ideal, but she’s an emotionally immature teenager, and there’s never going to be a good time to do something like this. What was she supposed to do, keep pity dating him because she felt sorry for him? Wait until someone invented technology to cure blindness? Assuming she did actually break up with him because of his disability… Are her reasons shitty? Sure. But she’s allowed to have them.

And you know what? He’s allowed to be mad about it. His anger might be completely understandable, if not totally justified. But you know what else? That does not give him the right to take revenge on her by vandalizing her property.

I would have no problem with this scene if it were honest about what it was: a bunch of teenagers with under-developed frontal lobes that are angry and feeling vindictive. But it’s not that. It’s depicted as not only completely justified, but heroic. I’m sorry, no. You are never heroic for harassing another human being.

And Augustus’s dumb little speech to her mom is such garbage. You really expect me to believe that a grown woman was so pwned by some jerk teenager’s super witty justification for destroying her property that she just went inside and, idk, watched TV? Didn’t call the police to report the crime that he and his friends were actively committing against her? Bullshit.

Speaking of bullshit, that scene is pretty egregious, but that doesn’t even begin to cover my issues with this book’s pretentious dialogue. If you told me that they ran every word in this book through Thesaurus.com then I would believe you without hesitation. The one hook, the draw, the thing that kept me reading was supposed to be the relatable characters, but they just aren’t relatable. They’re not realistic in the slightest. Seriously, go read any line of this book out loud and tell me how ridiculous you feel. I kept expecting Augustus to pull off his skinsuit and reveal that he was secretly a robot trying to imitate human speech the entire time.

I’m not sure how far I can go into this point without giving you direct quotes, but half the stuff that comes out of these characters mouths is pseudo-intellectual nonsense. “Put the killing thing between your teeth so it can’t kill you”?

It’s not a metaphor.

Putting an unlit cigarette in your mouth is still stupid. I guess it won’t give you lung cancer, but really? It’s still not a great idea.

Augustus has to go buy these cigarettes, which means he’s actively going out and giving money to an industry that has been funding pseudoscience and suppressing health initiatives that would prevent people from suffering what he did (i.e. fucking cancer).

Here’s a clue: Tobacco companies don’t actually care about what you do with the cigarettes. Their transaction stops as soon as you put the money in their hands. I could purchase a hundred packs and throw them in the garbage, and the only thing they know is that they got about $600 from me. Way to “stick it to the man”, asshole. You’re not clever.

With the exception of the Isaac’s-girlfriend thing, all of that is in chapters 1-4, by the way. This book turned me off so thoroughly that early.

So by the time the Amsterdam trip rolled around I was already not enjoying this book, but then this thing happened and it was just the final nail in the coffin for me. You probably know what I’m talking about already, but if you don’t… The Anne Frank Museum kiss.

I honestly cannot even articulate how incredibly tasteless and disrespectful I find the entire thing, and not only does that happen, but it’s followed by an r/ThatHappened “and then everybody stood up and clapped!” Seriously?

There are smarter, more well-versed people than me that have covered this topic, so I’ll leave the analysis for why that’s all kinds of wrong to them.

Those are really my big gripes, though there’s a few smaller ones (like Augustus throwing a pre-funeral like are you a psychopath? Why would you put the people you love through that???) that I’m not going to touch on because they weren’t all that instrumental in putting me off. Instead I’ll move on to the external factors.

The Fanbase

So I finished the book, a little miffed at having just wasted my time, and immediately told my friend that I didn’t like it much, and that I would be returning her copy the next day. Feeling pretty meh-to-slightly-negative about it, but whatever, it happens.

I was essentially met with “wow I can’t believe you didn’t get it.” and “Oh well maybe you’ll finally understand how deep it is when you’re older” from my friend. Which is really just one step away from the wow can’t you read?! BS that I’ve been seeing more and more frequently these days. So immediately I was pissed. All that aside, I was sixteen, the target age demographic? If I didn’t ‘get it’ then John Green was doing a pretty piss poor job of conveying what it is.

So I went online seeking something. Either validation that I wasn’t wrong and that I didn’t miss the point, the book just wasn’t great, or an explanation of what this it was that I’d missed. And let me tell you... Spotting a negative opinion of this book was like looking for a unicorn. There were a few, and many of them were met with the same kind of thing I had experienced. Vitriol, insistence that they were stupid or that they didn’t get it (again, with no explanation of what it was), and, apparently, a lot of harassment and threats.

I discovered that John Green’s target audience had a tendency to be… A bit obsessive. Lots of young, impressionable teenagers that were willing to jump on an opposing opinion with zealous outrage. If I had any interest in pursuing any of John Green’s other works or John Green as an internet personality any further, then it died in that moment. Absolutely nothing turns me off like a rabid, spiteful fanbase.

Now by this point I was already in the rabbit hole, and I began encountering a lot of criticisms of John Green and the things he’s said and done in the past. I did not like what I found.

John Green Himself

To be extremely blunt, the guy put such a bad taste in my mouth that it retroactively soured my opinion of The Fault in Our Stars even more. Since this is a post about my opinions on the book, I’m only going to be discussing things that affected my view at the time I read it. These are all things that happened six years ago, and I have no idea what this man has been up to or what he’s said about any of these topics since.

Let’s just get this out of the way… John Green writes the same book over and over. There’s always a quirky, nerdy white boy that is invariably cisgendered, and almost always straight. He is always an outcast with only a few friends, though apparently never directly bullied. He always meets an edgy girl that he falls in love with the idea of. Usually there is a road trip somewhere in there too.

The Fault in our Stars admittedly doesn’t follow the exact same framework, but it’s close enough in a lot of ways. Instead of the Quirky, Too-Smart-For-His-Own-Good cisboi being the PoV character, it’s the love interest (Hazel also fits this description, albeit a female version). Hazel and Augustus are both still outcasts. Hazel is attracted to Augustus because he’s Deep and Edgy and A Little Larger Than Life. The road trip is a flight to Amsterdam.

Looking at the man... Yeah the entire premise starts to come off as some weird self-insert fanfiction. I can feel the “I was a quirky, bullied teen and I wish this is how my high school life had been!” energy coming through absolutely every pore and every molecule of ink. Every character reads like John Green. John Green has written book after book and the main character always appears to be John Green in a slightly different teenage skinsuit.

And that’s fine, I guess. A little lazy, but I guess it’s working for him since he’s making hella bank? It’s certainly not enough to put me off the guy, just not something I’m interested in reading, and not something I find compelling.

What put me off for good were some of his comments. Dude skeeves me the fuck out. I’ll just go over some of the highlights I found at the time, and why they upset me so much when I heard them.

“Nerd girls are the world's most underutilized romantic resource.”

As a nerdy girl that has been stalked and harassed by men because I’m “good girlfriend material” (aka I like video games and traditionally masculine stuff and I’m pretty! I must be a unicorn!), this statement is disgusting.

I don’t care if it was a joke. I don’t care if he wasn’t being serious. This is the kind of shit that men think is a compliment because they think it makes “quirky” girls feel “unique” and “special”, but that “complement” is also an insult. You know why? Because it makes female interests all about how men perceive their sexual or romantic viability.

John Green’s penchant for writing “special” and “unique” girls (while simultaneously shaming “typical” girls, but I’ll get to that in the next point) and depicting them as the ideal woman just reaffirms my feelings about this quote. I think, on some level, John Green has no idea why this is such a bad take. And that’s not even getting into the fact that he called human beings resources. Women are not objects that exist to be a plot device or for your gratification. Fuck right off with that shit.

“She was incredibly hot, in that popular-girl-with-bleached-teeth-and-anorexia kind of way, which was Colin’s least favourite way of being hot”

This is just one quote of many that shames people with eating disorders and weight problems (on both ends of the spectrum, “too fat” and “too skinny”. Another fun one being: “there’s the weird culturally-constructed definition of hot, which means ‘that individual is malnourished, and has probably had plastic bags inserted into her breasts.’")

Know what this line is? It’s called “negging”, and it’s a popular tactic of incels because it works. You make someone seek your approval by intentionally giving them backhanded compliments to undermine their self esteem. The idea is that the more you insult them, the harder they’ll work to try and impress you. It doesn’t work on everyone, but you know who it does tend to work on? Insecure younger people (usually girls). You know who John Green’s target audience is? Insecure teenage girls.

As for the actual substance of the quote… I hate it. He’s shaming a woman for the choices she makes over her appearance. Which are, fun fact, none of his damn business. Also the idea that “skinny” and “anorexic” somehow need to go hand in hand is just wrong, insulting women for a mental health disorder they have no control over is offensive, and using a serious mental health disorder (did you know that anorexia is the most deadly mental health condition?) as an insult is disgusting.

Coming back to my earlier point about shaming “normal” girls, this quote is just the tip of the iceberg. He repeatedly shames women in his books for looking or behaving “typically”, while quirky girls are lauded as the ideal. Quirky girls are “weird and interesting” and normal girls are “boring”. If this was intended as a compliment, it’s a shitty one. If you have to shame one group to make another feel better, it is not a compliment. You are lowering all women when you pull that shit. You teach them that in order to feel good about themselves another group has to be made to feel worse.

And hey, maybe the pretty girl likes her teeth bleached because it makes her feel confident? Why can’t bleached teeth girl and anime t-shirt girl both be beautiful and unique and confident in their own right? Why is it “powerful” for anime t-shirt girl to wear her nerdy clothes, but scorn-worthy for bleached teeth girl to like bleaching her teeth?

What John Green is doing is simply replacing one ideal (skinny pretty girl) with another (quirky cute girl), and then he pretends like his version is somehow “woke” because it’s not based on physical appearance (though all of the women in his books are also physically attractive. Hmmm. Guess “nerd girls” are only “viable resources” when they aren’t hard to look at?).

And trust me, I’ve been down this path. I’ve been taken in by guys who try to make me feel ~special~ by putting down other women, and it leads to absolutely nothing good. It doesn’t make you feel better. It just makes you feel angry and resentful, and that’s not a place you want to be in. In fact, this was a mentality I had recently escaped from around the time I picked up this book. Seeing someone with as much influence as John Green parroting this specific brand of toxic shit to exactly the audience that would be most likely to feed into it? I was never going to be able to like the guy, sorry.

I know some people are able to “separate the art from the artist”, and I might have been willing to do that had the book actually been good… but it wasn’t. So in the end the book just looked worse for all of the author’s shortcomings.

So yeah, in summary: The book was mediocre at best, the author pushed all of my angry feminist buttons, and elements of the fanbase were annoying, condescending, and spiteful. I didn’t like the book in the first place due to the myriad of problems plaguing it, but everything else just made it look so much worse in hindsight.

Anyways, this probably got kind of ranty, but it was cathartic and I did make this blog to vent about dumb stuff. I think this qualifies.

[fivepercentgodsandearths]

Peace, I love and miss the 80’s era in Hip Hop, there was so many conscious MC’s such as Public Enemy, Poor Righteous Teachers, X-Clan, Brand Nubian’s, Kwame, King Sun and many more. I remember how we use to rock those leather Black Power or African medallions around our necks, I still have 2 left and one hangs from my car mirror to this day. I remember Flava Flav use to wear that damn clock around his neck and I went out and bought me one. The conscious organizations: Nation of Islam on the corners recruiting and selling their papers and pies. Dr. Yorks Ansaars in the streets selling his lies. The five percenters running around with book bags full of lessons teaching everyone they come in contact with. Conscious MC’s, Conscious music was the order of the day ! But what happened ? They are now replaced with rappers who are proud to be a nigga, proud to be a gangsta, proud to be promoters of black on black crime ! I listened to Capone n Noregas Album titled “ The War Report “ and these brothers talk all this Allah this and that and all these five percent lessons on this album and then on the same album they said: “ … gag her mouth so she can’t scream and start raping her… next day FedEx the tape next day in the mail “. Sometimes I wonder, do the listeners of this type of music ever stop and think and realize that these rappers are talking about killing another black man, selling drugs to another black man, raping a black woman ? Chew on that shit ! It was Paris (east coast) who said it perfectly: “ Mindless music from the one that makes ya, think less of the one that hates ya “. Seriously, what kind of Conscious Intelligent person sits and listens to Lil’ Jon and the east side boyz or get crunk wit it ? This is filth they feed to the public as if they are human pigs ! But hey, you are what you eat , right ? What happened to Conscious music ? The end of the beginning of Conscious music started with Niggas with attitude and after them came Hoes with attitude. N.W.A. sold so many records rapping about murdering black people that these white folks said this is what we want, THIS WILL MAKE US FILTHY RICH !. But this is a designed plan bigger then A&R’s and record labels, this was bigger then the F.B.I. This was the C.riminals I.n A.ction doing. Out with this black conscious crap and lets rock the Niggers back to sleep. Next thing you know conscious rappers started dropping off like flies. Conscious rappers like Intelligent Hoodlum, changed his name to a gangsta name and started rapping about gangsta life. You got Wu-Tang in the beginning rapping about the everyday struggle in the community and dropping the Nation of Gods and Earths lessons and then they flipped the script and started rapping about sniffing coke and picking up Mafia names. Fool, you not no damn Italians ! Why would you pattern yourselves after some people that hate Black people ! Did you see The God Father when they said only sell and put the drugs in the black community because the niggas aint shit and will never be shit. This happened for real !!! Go back and watch the movie “ Panther “ ! While your eating popcorn, your missing the message Tobie ! Fiddler plays his damn violin while you buck dance and shuffle your feet for whitey ! Negroes please, you mind as well paint your face black and yell Mammy ! You fake as Five Percenters on the mic ! You know who you are, you Wu-Tang members ! On Wu-Tang forever Rza said the meaning of Wu-Tang is: “ W-whistle U-universe T- truth of A-Allahs N-nation of the G-gods. Did Rza tell Wu-Tang what happened to his ass at the Nation of Gods and Earths 1997 annual Show & Prove ? Of course not ! Remember before 1997 he use to wear a cross around his neck with diamonds in it. After we got a hold to his ass, we found out he didn’t know no lessons but claim to be the razor sharp of the Wu! After we got a hold to him, now look what he wears around his neck. An Iced out Universal Flag which is the Flag of the Gods and Earths. I bet he knows his lessons now. Raekwon, Gza, Ghostface, Method Man and the rest, I listen to your music and how you use our lessons. Built for Cuban links the chorus was : “ why is my niggas always selling that broke shit, lets get money son, why you want to smoke shit, chill god, yo the son don’t chill allah, what’s today’s mathematics, yo Knowledge god ! “ and on the same ablum ghost and rae said: “ you memorize the 1-40 ? I’m at the 19th degree, if the civilized man doesn’t perform his duty what shall be done?…” This is all Nation of Gods and Earths lessons ! In a Hotel lobby back in Chicago around 1995 or 96 Raekwon said we couldn’t come up and build with them, The God asked him can we have your phone number and Rae said do you know 120 degrees ? The god said no ! Raekwon looked at me and said do you know 120 and I said hell yeah ! And Raekwon gave his number to me instead. Earlier that day, when Wu-Tang entered the door of the concert, I walked up to Ol’ Dirty Bastard and said Peace God !! Can I kick it with you all back stage, he and Rza asked me did I know 120 degrees and I said true indeed God and they said come on. 120 degrees are 120 questions and answers required for those in the Nation of gods and earths to memorize verbatim word for word. My whole point for saying all of this is, simple and plain you used our lessons to put a conscious message out and yet you never donated or gave a dime back to us. Method Man wearing our flag and has a righteous Five Percent name and I don’t know wear the hell he got it from but he donated over $10,000 to the columbine high school but Allah School in Mecca ( 5eadquarters in New york) floor was about to fall in at that time and you want to give these crackers money because little billy shot up his fellow devils !? I see Hell Razah, Killah Priest, 4th Disciple, Gza and more of these Pseudo-Conscious Wu-Tang members on Myspace and I ask them about doing a fundraiser here in Chicago so that I can raise money and start a community center to teach the youth about their culture and etc. and they take it as an insult. If I say, lets do a benefit concert to help the victims of September 11th or Hurricane Katrina you Negroes will break your neck for that. At least Arrested Development on Myspace is at least considering it and have not took it as a insult. Their down to earth and are not full of themselves, I respect them even if they decide and tell me no because they took the time to hear me out and see my legal paperwork. Wu members, I listen to your music on myspace, fool your not deep ! Your knowledge is a snack. Some of those Fischer Price lyrics you can take back to the Toys R Us. On return to the 36 chambers of Ol’ Dirty Bastards album, they couldn’t of said it no better: “ Coming in the name to proclaim your fame for protection, and you don’t know no fuckin lessons ! “ and Rza said on the same album: “ A Five Percent, but all he knew was 1-10, he love the Gods with his heart but his brain was full of sin… “. AFTER YOU READ THIS, YOU’LL PROBABLY PUT ON YOUR PAGE YOUR NOT A Five Percent, but let me do you a favor the only “ real “ members of the Nation of God’s & Earths that are Wu-Tang members that we as the N.G.E. acknowledge are: Rza, Allah Mathematics, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Poppa Wu, Allah Real and Masta Killah ! There maybe 2 more but anyone else is counterfeit and just use our lessons because without them their lyrics would be meaningless. Nas and Az, two more who use the terminology from our lessons. Nas said: “ as for today’s Mathematics we Allah’s children, and this goes on in every New York’s ghetto, kids listen as Five Percent says there’s pork in Jell-O “ and who remember Nas first album when him and Az said: “ We were beginners in the Hood as Five Percenters… “? and on another album Nas said: “ My movado says the God hour, that’s if you follow, tradition started at the school not far from the Apollo “ the five percent school is down the street from the Apollo theatre and the God hour means 7 o’ clock. All I’m saying is give back baby ! I shouldn’t have to ask you to come do a fundraiser, you should send money instead, for the cause that helped you sell records. Take the Five Percenter lessons away from Wu-Tangs album, Poor Righteous Teachers album, Brand Nubian Album what do you have ? Chew on that shit ! Oh yeah, I haven’t forgot you groupies. A few low self esteem women hitting me up and saving me as a friend on Myspace, asking me to teach them the lessons and yet never call me so I can do my duty as an educator and the same day they suppose to call to build, I see them all over the Wu-Tang members comment book posting messages about thank you for listening to me on the phone and I shed tears when we were on the phone. Then I look at the date before that comment, they were just saved as a friend THE DAY BEFORE. Here it is a day later after you just met him, your on the phone crying to him. Groupie shit ! Wanting me to teach you the lessons but never call when you say because your doing your groupie thing on myspace. Another one says she doesn’t have a telephone yet but posting her groupie thing all in their guest book. I’m a busy Intellectual who don’t have time for people who should be riding that little yellow school bus. Do you actually think these are real rappers ? Do you think they just have time to be on the internet everyday with you ? You talk to them on the phone but is it really them or an obsessed groupie like you ? Hamm ! Look, The Nation of Gods and Earths is not some hip hop fade. Just because Wu-Tang advocates it and unfortunately some of our lessons are in the Wu Tang manual, don’t mean its some hip hop stuff fans should study to be a wu-tang fan or groupie. This is what we teach our babies, our children, our women. This is what we live, this is our culture and everyday life. Wu-Tang got ya thinking that five percenters is all about smoking weed and stuff. Allah Jihad is a real estate investor and own properties, including the house I currently live in. I don’t smoke weed or don’t even take medications. I’m a vegetarian and live a righteous and productive life. I’m an author of a $35 book, that I have received over 12,000 e-mails to my website of people waiting to buy it. Do the math $35 x 12,00 = ? If my off the head calculation is correct, that’s $420,000 and I didn’t get on stage and profess to be something I’m not, promote genocide of my people and that’s just online customers. I’m successful and not a weed head, drug dealer nor do I act like something I’m not. You better go to www.immortalbirth.com and read “ about the author “. and on that note, I leave you as I greeted you in… P.E.A.C.E. Allah Jihad 1st. Born and elder of C-Medina(Chicago) Author of Immortal Birth of Allah: Rise of the Five Percenters Writer and reporter for the N.G.E. News (former nge power newspaperfive

https://www.wutang-corp.com/forum/showthread.php?9940-Message-from-the-honorable-Allah-Jihad-of-the-NGE-addressing-the-Wu-Tang-Clan

[leafallsonelines]

Bizarre Love Triangle

I'm not sure what this could mean I don't think you're what you seem I do admit to myself, that if I hurt someone else Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be  -New Order

I didn't want to get into a relationship.

He wore me down and soon enough I was the one crazy about him. I always answer to the undefinably strong pull toward a certain person. I was soul weary and needed a break from emotional turmoil. When you meet somebody else, they're the main character of their own love story (just like I am in mine; as it should be). I'm privy to fact that we all have a history, especially when dating in your late 20's and 30's. I wasn't ready for our stories to collide.

I desperately wanted to avoid cluttering my life with someone else's relationship baggage when I haven't even taken care of mine. He campaigned hard for the relationship. I went for it.

Despite my better judgment I always cave—give in to that desire — anticipate and absorb the pain that inevitably follows.

I told you that story to tell you this one.

Back in 2014 the term Cool Girl ™ was coined to describe women who change their personality for male approval. (The shtick is contrived and annoying once you spot it.) She doesn't have a solid sense of self and basks in attention to fill. That void; hoards men like Thanksgiving hams and gets territorial when she's not The Girl. She gets kicks from seeing how uncomfortable she can make other girls by openly flirting with their boyfriends just to watch them squirm. This act is so played out most people have an eye roll ready for anyone flying the “I'm not like other girls” banner. (Gen Z now calls them Pick-Me-Girls ™.)

I crossed paths with one in 2018 — my boyfriend's best friend of sixteen years. A self-indulgent, selfish friendship. I wasn't initially jealous, didn't interrupt, and it came back to bite me; it was hideously unfair.

For storytelling purposes let's call her “Kate Luu.” Kate, an incestuous tigermom who gets jealous of any girl her son gets with, a petulant toddler that would rather break a toy than let someone else play with it. Probably has BPD. Definitely needs a good therapist.

Like a lot of dewy eyed girls newly in love I conveniently dismissed the red flags around my boyfriend and Kate. I had empathy for them because of my past platonic friendships with flirty undertones. Guys would respectfully fall back when they got into relationships or if I Was in one. I struggled with the slow withdrawal of warmth, missed the emotional intimacy, but recognized it as the right call and moved on. A lot of young adults exploring their sexuality go through this. As I got older I favored female friendships for being uncomplicated, preferring to avoid unwanted sexual tension.

Empathy without boundaries is self-destruction.

A couple weeks after celebrating our one year anniversary Kate texts me, “We need to talk.” Alarms immediately go off in my head. The last few months I had started bringing attention to the bad vibe I was getting and the inappropriate nature of the relationship. I got tired of biting my tongue. He didn't know how to process it or correct it. His lingering infatuation with her made it impossible for him to distance himself or enforce new boundaries. He started hiding it instead. I caught him being intentionally ambiguous about his plans when going to see her. He fumbled himself into an emotional affair.

Princess Diana famously described her marriage to Charles as “crowded.” It was an unmistakable reference to his affair with Camilla. Looking back the (justifiable) anxiety I had was from being crowded. Intuition is not insecurity.

I met Kate for coffee and she read aloud a pathetic five page letter telling me I'm a bad girlfriend and “full of shit.” She was intervening on his behalf as the person who knows what's best for my boyfriend.

“It's none of your business.”

But no, she has the authority to interfere as his best friend of  sixteen years  and I was a  one year  nothing. She brought up the fact he was attracted to her first, told me I'm spineless and ruining their friendship with my insecurity. (She _really _ran with the words spineless and insecure.)

Accusations are confessions when they come from a manipulative person. Textbook projection. She was mad her narcissistic supply was tapering off. (Gaslighting Pro-tip: Label rightful jealousy as insecurity.)

My boyfriend gave her personal, intimate details of my life during their oversharings and she used that information to bully me. Nothing was off the table, including my sexual history. I can see how she manipulated him, but it was inexcusable. People who enable They leave the door open for endless rows of inappropriate behavior. All of this was happening behind my back for a year. That kind of intimate toxicity are suckers for ego massages.

Don't you just love a story where the villain puts all the evidence of her misdeeds in one letter and unravels into epic, illogical rage all in one afternoon, in the space of two hours?

How did Kate have time to write five pages of false narratives designed to destroy a relationship she was jealous of? She doesn't have a job. She's a pampered dog mom living in her rich fiancé's house for free. A busybody performatively taking care of other people to avoid a mountain of personal issues. (An unevolved Virgo.)

Don't worry about what I'm doing. Worry about why you're worried about what I'm doing.

Kate has many noticeable traits as an obnoxious, self-important person — an absolute fake. She calls herself a _philanthropist _without having done anything philanthropic or even knowing how to use the word; she literally saw a big SAT word that means good person and attached Herself to it. (A word assigned to big charitable donors like Bill Gates, not bloggers). She has the same relationship with the word “unconventional” and thinks using a bigger word for unique or quirky makes her even more unique and quirky. Nope, still basic.) In place of possessing any actual humor she repeats memorized dad jokes and leans into corny, forced puns. If this isn't annoying enough she then insists she's funny. (Funny people just make you laugh. They never have to tell people they're funny. Barfs in, “I speak fluent sarcasm.”)

If I poked a finger through her shallow veneer I'd find loose dirt and dog shit.

And you know what? I'm not even against intense friend love. I get it. I groove to “One Love.” Emotional freedom is important. Expressions of love are multitudinous. It should transform to fit the situation. She didn't respect basic boundaries to make room for all of us to be comfortable. She was just mad she got demoted and tried to burn the whole thing down.

Kate wanted to be the main character in my boyfriend's love story without ever actually dating him. Oh yes, I know — the audacity, the toxic lack of boundaries, the mind numbing arrogance. She's not even protagonist material — a papier-mâché hipster who got her personality from an Urban Outfitters catalog and can't stop contradicting herself despite the fact she is working off a pre-written letter. I have never encountered someone who thought so highly of herself while having almost no substance. She calls herself a writer , but is just a pseudo-intellectual English major who posts aesthetic word salad on Instagram.

Later on I realized that if someone is mean to you unprovoked it's jealousy. One of the catalysts for the meetup was a heartfelt anniversary post I wrote on Instagram. It's not my usual style, but I felt gushy and really went full blown poetic and swoony She's jealous that her own, brought up love and Birth of Venus, blah blah blah. She mentioned my IG post and even admitted it was poetic and well written, but proceeded to use that as the jumping off point to invalidate the love in it. writing is try-hard drivel; a woman in her thirties mentally stuck in 2011 tumblr cringe.

If she truly wanted him she should have pursued him honestly and not wait to mess with another person. Hell, even just owning up to her feelings and saying, “I realize I may have lost my chance with you. Is there still anything in our sixteen year history that makes you want to give us a shot instead? ”à la My Best Friend's Wedding. Treading some moral gray area, but way more acceptable than actively sabotaging a relationship.

She didn't really want him though. She just wanted to continue their friendship in that inappropriate flirtationship space to feed her ego. After the coffee date she ended their friendship in an email. That really important sixteen year friendship became disposable to her once she wasn't able to control it.

Sometimes trash does the public service of loudly identifying itself as trash and takes itself out.

If you're a female best “friend” to a guy in a relationship and you need to flex on “I was here first” and “We did this before you were in the picture,” then you were never interested in seeing that friend thrive in a romantic relationship. You just get off on being his favorite unfulfilled option. If seeing him in love with someone new has you feeling that miserable you're just being selfish. Real love doesn't overstep in a new relationship so you can hog their spotlight. You're not even a friend; you're a skunk marking your territory and keeping him in the friendzone while not really wanting him to have a girlfriend.

You learn to love somebody in their love language and not just yours. Selfish love is not real love. That's just using someone to fill a place. Maybe a distraction. Seeking anything in return isn't real love because if you want that you actually don't have love to give; it's fake; it's toxic. If there's someone who isn't around anymore and you miss them consider the fact that you might just miss the place they held in your life. (You have the freedom to fill that space anyway you want.)

She realized she burned through all her goodwill thus the sudden ghosting and extracting herself. I never asked my partner to pick me or issued any ultimatums. Sometimes important questions stay unanswered. Sometimes you have to move on without the apology you deserve. There is grief in never receiving closure.

My partner finally saw my concerns validated in the aftermath. I bubbled with rage remembering excuses he made for her. Day in and day out I was drinking from an overflowing cup of righteous anger. So what was his role in this? Stupid or co- conspirator?

He was oblivious.

“I can't believe you could've left me for a wannabe influencer.”

I switched my phone wallpaper from his picture to a solid color. Looking at his face filled me with disgust. There's only so much letting go you can ask someone to do. I knew I still loved him, but anytime a woman is hurt she becomes less interested.

How do you recover from unknowingly letting a toxic bitch walk all over and jeopardize your relationship?

Friends told me to move on, date other people. He campaigned for the relationship again. We did the work of picking up the pieces and starting over. 

I'm not pretending to be perfect. I was reeling from back to back traumas. My soft spots turned hard and cynical. It was my turn to be the toxic one. I drove to work sobbing everyday for a month. I complained constantly. My default became anxious and suspicious. I'm so out of touch with the person I was before; she's a stupidly innocent, free-spirited stranger to me. It took time for the poison leach out.

It's a lot of baggage.

The couples who make it aren't always the ones that never had a reason to break up. They're the ones that decide their commitment to each other is more important than their mistakes. Fast forward to the herculean effort he made to earn back my trust and we're still very happily together. (This is published with his permission.)

Our relationship is more grounded in reality now. It's not crowded anymore. Somethings more precious from having almost been lost. Somethings will never be the same. I'm the villain in her story, just as much as she's the villain in mine. We get to live out our own endings and there is peace in that.

Hurtful, painful, memories. Memories of deep regrets, memories of hurting and being hurt. Memories of being abandoned. Only those with such memories buried in their hearts can become stronger, more passionate, and emotionally flexible. Only those can obtain happiness. So Don't forget any of it. Remember it all and overcome it. If you don't overcome it, you'll always be a kid whose soul never grows.  -The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares