Gina Marie

A few years back, I found a quote that has stuck with me to this day. “Nothing is as important as it seems.” The truth is, this couldn’t be any closer to the truth. In my mind the important things were to eat healthy, work out, be in tip-top shape, get a boyfriend, have fun while I’m young, study hard. And although these are important, in the grand scheme of life they aren’t huge significances. It isn’t until we lose someone or something of even greater importance that we realize just how non-prevalent the little things in life really are. The glory of being young is that we aren’t supposed to have big things in life to worry about. But some don’t realize the beauty of their youth and waste it on complaining about the most irrelevant and absurd things. Why waste your time bitching about something that doesn’t even matter? This may sound contradictory and hypocritical, that I am complaining about others complaining, but I stick by my beliefs. This is because I didn’t realize the importance of life until someone I held extremely close to my heart lost theirs.

Conforming to superficiality for the sake of popularity is a huge waste of time, that ultimately will lead to misery. In my experiences with nature & nurture, I’ve learned to never change, as well as to do things for your own benefit and nobody elses. I cannot be who I am not. Plain and simple. I refuse to mold into what is expected and anticipated of an average 21 year old college girl . Disappointing people in this sense has brought me sheer bliss and is an excitatory means for me to remain the same. Encouraging people in this sense motivates me to never be inhibited. So for the ladies who succumb to societal pressures, with the intent of furtherance, just remember, they say true beauty, success and inner peace comes from what’s natural.

What else to do at 1:30 AM.. (by the time I’m finished I’m banking on it being 3:30 AM) on a Saturday, shit faced, except to write about how you’re currently viewing the suggested video, by your brother, whom insisted on you watching a piano suit on youtube, of System of  Down, (my favorite part… the bridge… just came on.. I may or may not have just had an orgasm..) Phenomenal. Okay, so anyway, This blog is going to be about the one thing everyone hates to love, alcohol. The one and only. I haven’t blogged since, like, the day I accepted my bra size. & for the record, I am currently popping my “writing-while-drunk” cherry. (I made a promise to myself that for every grammatical inaccuracy that I found on this, I’d add another short, sentence-long additon). So, that is right, ladies and gents, for the first time EVER, this is being written while drunk. Completely. Not partially (a later non-fiction story is to come, about a happily ever after, that I eventually find.. eventually is the key word here, is the product of half drunken-ness). So, I hate how Tumblr feels the need to tell you that they’ve updated their “Terms & Policies” … as if I haven’t learned this whole fucking rigmarole from Facebook and Pinterest. They expect you to drunkenly agree to the terms WITHOUT ever having had read them (Thanks iTunes)… Placing the blame on my music download site, which is done legal, explicitly, would be the easy way out. This blog is meant to be geared towards the ONE substance that everybody can’t deny; alcohol. Why not any other body poisoning substance, like Cigarettes or Cocaine? .. Because, although I love each of the former, I know, I seriously know, the damages that alcohol brings, but I also know the extreme upsides to it, hence, why I currently realize how boarder-line alcoholics cross that fine line between “maybe having a problem” and “Woah, that bitch needs an intervention or rehab. Either one would benefit her.”  As a college sorority girl, alcohol has its crazy effects on you, physically, emotionally, socially. Alcohol makes you think that if you don’t piss ASAP, then you’re probably going to in your pants. Alcohol, at the time, makes you think that dancing on bars is a good idea and that you won’t regret it in the morning (I learned that the hard way). It is the epitome of a “frenemy”.. For real doe. It makes you think that the guy you took to your date party TOTALLY wants to fuck you. Or that your ex-boyfriend still creeps on your Facebook. It makes you think that SAE’s open party means “XO takeover” .. aka, you roll deep no matter what. It makes you think that the boy from Pikes really does love everything about you, even though your bag of fucks hasn’t been seen since 10:30 PM. (BTW, that guy you fucked, a week before his birthday, he wanted nothing to do with you… that’s why he left) OH, and that kid Sam that you’re tight with, yeah, he found out you told everyone about his impotence. He said he still wants to be friends and what not, but let’s be real here, your friendship’s been squashed to shit… Maybe, you could have been the one girl to make him finally relax and ultimately get a hard on without the help of Viagra. But, you can’t spit game hard enough, although you spend every waking moment together.. It’s probably because you are not nearly pretty enough, without your liquid poison. You are not skinny or good-looking enough for him to want to keep contacting you UNLESS you make yourself worthy. This, in turn leads to your never ending issues with your self confidence, that’s plagued you for years. Going some days without eating, or your day that consists of a serious liquid red wine diet, or rum and Coke Zero. The next day I’ll eat healthy, because, even though I’m fucked up, I still need to be level headed. The day after that, well the Sigma Pi that called you got you so god damn high that you just need food more than you’ve ever needed anything in your whole life. So, you binge. You literally RAID Phi Mu’s fridge for any left over’s that you can find. Grilled Chicken from Friday night, Blueberry Sugar Cake dessert from Wednesday. Whatever you can wrap your hands around. Only, to make yourself throw it up after. Facing some serious eating demons. Makes you think back to your high school days, when your boyfriend at the time, along side your mom and dad, tried to get you to eat so much as an APPLE if you were so to walk out that door. You feared anything of caloric content, even if it were just mere carrots. So what is this fine line that i speak of  (wait, iSpeak, has the been invented yet…?) between alcohol abuse and just the casual “going out having a few beers”?. Maybe, It’s the screaming Geed that just walk out of ADPi’s house  (awk..) or the Co-op across the street, that you watch while you smoke on a stoge, filing out of their house with a surprisingly large amount of numbers (& hot bitches). It’s the sirens blaring down Mela Street. It’s the walk home from Sigma Chi. It’s the “Holy shit, I’m gonna puke.” & “Thank god I wasn’t this fucked up when I brought the LXA to date party..” feeling. It’s the “I know this AEPi but why is he acting like he’s never seen me before.” or the dreaded run in with the Sig Ep “I know we didn’t fuck but what your brothers think can’t hurt them, so, it’s up for interpretation” words that come out of your mouth.  It also contains the casual conversation with that boy you think is SO cute, when he proceeds to say “Yeah, she invited me to semi, BUT she’s just a friend..” (sad face/ happy face at the same time?) or the “I need Ranch dressing, I hope I’m not embarrassing myself because I’m hanging out with Sophomore’s in Theta, while Sigma Kappa’s “new-members” (pledges) are drunkenly singling me out. AXO’s are trying to convince you that they ABSOLUTELY DO NOT HAZE. All the while, you’re pretty sure the DG to your left just shit her pants, because nobody can smell that bad.” Mixed with the “Zeta and her Tri Delt best friend, both who are gorging Jimmy John’s, while Beta’s president is trying to make you believe that he wasn’t head over heels for your sister, but, that he just wanted to “get to know her better.” Concurrently, you’re thinking “Sisterhood can suck my left nut while getting analy raped for all I care., wait, how does Gamma Phi exhibit more public sisterhood than us SDT’s.” The “I’m so good at guitar, I love dubstep, he’s passed out in my bed, snoring, you better come visit me in Chicago this summer, bitch!!!!” Above all, it’s the “ I need my bed, wait the snack room has brownies, maybe I should make my way back to Delt Sigs so they can smoke me out..” Type of feeling. When I wake up in the morning I’m so shameful, yet I keep my head high and continue on because If I keep acting like I don’t give a fuck, everyone will start believing that I don’t give a fuck, which is the ultimate goal. I wasn’t wearing my letters, so that meant that anything was to go. & Although everyone at Theta Chi KNEW I was a KD, didn’t mean that I’d crossed the line that I feared. 

* I named this “Rant tweet drunk yeah” in Pages thinking I was going to tweet my belligerent emotions. Obviously this exceeds 140 characters. Thanks, Blue Moon, for always having my back.

For the first time in my entire life I have come to terms with and thus, learned to embrace, the fact that I’m not so well endowed in the bust area. I have realized that it was the societal pressure that caused me to be so hard on myself, when realistically, it’s not completely my fault that my proportions are kind of, well, out of whack, for lack of a better term. Genetically, I should be about a C-cup. (This is the average of my direct female relatives). However, for me, this is not the case. I partially blame it on the fact that for the core years of my body’s growth, aka puberty, I did not consume sufficient amounts of protein or fat, as I was a vegetarian, to allow proper development. (I didn’t make this up, my Pediatrician told me this as well) This really ended up fucking me over big time, especially in my high school and college years when you’re consistently comparing yourself to those who have what you don’t. I’m not the only one with this issue, as I’m positive every female (& male, too) have points where they feel as if they’re not good enough, physically. I always joke about getting a boob job later on in life, but who knows if I’ll really, ultimately, go through with it. What’s done on my body is done and when it comes to the breast size factor, nothing but cosmetic surgery can fix this problem. Birth control, push up bras and weight gain have no direct influence on my size, as it has remained constant and has had a 0% fluctuation. So, my last resort, my option ‘infinity’, has to be to accept what is & remain confident, cause I have bundles of other things going for me, that, in the long run, make up for what I’m lacking.

Tomorrow is the last day of January. This means that Wednesday marks the beginning of February, a month I commonly associate with Il Giorno di San Valentino. If you, like myself and many other females out there in the world, are going to be single on Valentine’s Day, fear not, for you are not alone! In order to make my fellow ladies see & know that it’s OKAY to be single on the day for couples, here are some damn good reasons why you should be thankful you don’t have a significant other on this day.

1.) You exude a sense of independence that a girl who’s latched onto a man, can’t have. You are self-sufficient. That deserves a pat on the back. 

2.) It’s on a Tuesday this year and honestly, Tuesday isn’t really a good day of the week anyway.  

3.) You can drown in chocolate and get shit faced off of red wine, alone or with other single girlfriends, with an excuse!

4.) When you go with your other single ladies, to see “The Vow” you literally can point and laugh at all the boyfriends who got stuck going to see it with their girlfriends. Sucks for them. Then, when it’s over and you’re sobbing, you can think about how you’re single and cry more. Then, you can remember what I’m about to tell you & it makes you realize that “The Vow” is just a Nicholas Sparks novel. AKA it’s made up. Back to reality.

5.) According to researchers at East Carolina University and Indiana University, 1 in 5 males in a “monogamous” relationship have admitted to cheating. (That’s 20%) If you know 5 girls in a relationship, well, the outcome is grim for one of them. This may sound harsh, but it’s the truth, I’ve been the victim of cheating. It’s gut-wrenching & terrible. I may have learned from it, but other girls will forever be naive to it.

Side Note: *I truly am a lover and I’m out there looking for it just the same as everyone else, but I am also an intelligent and educated realist, who is just telling it like it is.

Nothing is more heartbreaking than when you learn that some of your favorite cosmetic producing companies test their goods on animals. Nothing is more aggravating than when stores are allowed to SELL these goods to naive consumers. Fortunately, I now know which products I won’t be buying (Paul Mitchell, The Body Shop, Urban Decay, Burt’s Bees, Pureology, Dermologica.. just to name a few.) But what was most surprising was that on the list, which I obtained via the American Anti-Vivisection Society, there were companies with the names “Beauty Without Cruelty” & “Cruelty-Free Cosmetics” That STILL made the list of products that are tested on animals! If that isn’t the definition of hypocrisy, then I don’t fucking know what is.

Here’s the list. Take a gander for yourself.

(http://www.aavs.org/site/c.bkLTKfOSLhK6E/b.6534461/k.A0FD/Compasionate_Shopping_Guide.htm

Animal lover, piano enthusiast, fluid talker, eternal realist & open for interpretation. Skiier, singer, reader, writer, believer & liberalist. Italy > United States. Lip stick wearing shameless, crazy bitch. I judge a man based on the shoes he wears & I’m slightly intrigued by the zodiac. Living by freedom of choice. The only rules I abide by are those centered around altruism, good humor and kindness. I thank God for providing me enough space in my mouth to compensate for all 4 wisdom teeth, so that I would not have to endure the pain and suffering of having them removed. Enthralled & motivated by risk takers, as I partially like to believe I am one, myself. Mediocrely and humbly well rounded. Interested in sociolinguistics, neurobiology of vertebrates and anything revolving around history, circa 1939. I swear, my actions are justifiable.