When Talking No Longer Gets You Anywhere

I was watching the movie Your Mommy Kills Animals, which is about the animal rights movement. Mostly, it shunned Peta and groups that have lost their way. Well, I disagree with that statement on most parts. At least they are speaking out about a cause that seems noble. But, one thing these turd sandwiches said, was that they couldn't understand why wearing fur was so wrong. This one bitch from Australia said that she enjoyed wearing fur cause it was warm and that didn't mean that she hated animals. I was sort of laughing and crying at that point. How can you say that you love animals, yet kill them, skin them for your own benefit? It sickens me to think that these delusional people actually thing that wearing fur or leather is fine, when there are warmer, CHEAPER things to wear. Like a fucking ski jacket. All I can think about now is going up to that girl and showing her my bunny, letting her see the FACE of her fur. Like holy shit, not like it would change her mind about it, but it sure would give me the satisfaction of knowing that she can see how pissed I am. Just like people who have dogs or pets and eat meat, you ask them why it's OK to eat a cow when they would never eat their dog. It's so frustrating. This whole thing. Deep down my parents, and my whole family believe that vegetarianism is a phase, probably some teenager thing about having an identity. In a way it is. I've found who I am and I've found something to fight for. I look back and I hate that I once ate meat without thinking about the animal. I've always loved animals and recently I've seen my former self as one of those delusional turds that I get pissed at. I love that I'm finding who I am. For the first fifteen years of my life I was what I as told to be. Now, I'm thinking for myself, living for myself and loving every minute of it. But, anyways, back to the movie. It was also about the SHAC 7 convictions. And if you noticed, I added the homepage to my blog for anyone who is interested in the case. These people were tried as terrorists because they protested animal testing. None of the people who were convicted did any of the crimes. They were a representation of the whole activist group. They couldn't actually find the people they suspected of the crimes. The sentences ranged from 3 to 6 years and each person was fined 1 million dollars. These people were given a larger sentence than a rapist would have received or even a murderer in the UK. The funny thing is these "terrorists," were these geeky, skinny, vegans who wouldn't hurt a fly. The guy, Kevin Kajonaas, who got the highest amount of jail time was ambushed in his house by a SWAT team who put a gun to his head. The guy was 5'10 and weighed 120 pounds. I remember this thing he said in the movie that went something like this: "Just like time and time before the same questions are being asked. All this for a black? All this for a Jew? All this so women can vote? And now it's: All this for an animal?" He put words to the sad history that is being repeated over and over again. I'm SICK of crying myself to sleep because nothing I say is being taken as valuable information into any one's brain. I'm screaming in the dark, waiting for someone to tell me, not that they care or that they feel the same way, just that they can hear. I'm SICK of being made fun of because I haven't had a boyfriend. I guess it's kinda hard to find a boyfriend if the whole world thinks that you like girls. I've even began to doubt myself. I'm SICK of being laughed at because I TRULY BELIEVE THAT ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUALS. YES! Even the fucking birds and the worms. Everything has a right to life. I'm going to be a vegetarian for the rest of my life. I don't even care if it gets me nowhere in the end. I'd love to say that I hate everyone and everything, but I really don't. It's just a sickness that forms in my heart and has eaten its way out every time I'm told not to scream, not to cry, not to feel. Feelings tell us that we are alive. It's only after the fact that we see this. After the screaming fits and the tears. Sickness is a whole different story. Sickness is what I feel, bitter resentment and anger. But anyways, most of all I'm SICK of yelling into space. Empty space. There is not even an echo. If there was an echo I might be able to convince myself that it's really someone who gives a shit.

Old Habits Die Hard

Or as I like to call it: OHDH. My dog is fine now. He had a tumor, but it wasn't cancer. Well, for the longest time no one yelled at Rocky, no one got mad at him in anyway. Since, he was likely to die. He's alive and you know what? It's back to the beginning. Why can't we cherish the days with our dog, not wait for the next time we have a scare? So now it's OK to kick the dog right? He's not dying so you won't feel guilty. I'd like to know that you do though. But, I know it's the same as it was before. No more guilt. Well, I never felt guilty about it cause I never did it. No one has a right to kick a dog, even if it growls at you because it thought you were going to take its toy. You wouldn't dare do that to a child. You'd end up in jail. A dog doesn't mean as much as a child to you though. Ya, sure you'd cry if it might have cancer, but the thought of causing it harm doesn't faze you one bit. I'm protecting him from now on. You crazy religious freaks believe animals are lower than you. I guess you are just making up for that fact that you can't kill and eat him, you have to express your dominance somehow right? Animals have prices on their heads. Not because it's been there since the beginning of time, no, it's because we put them there. And let's just pull our heads from our asses for a few seconds to see that animals have every right to be here. No harm is done by them. They are creatures based on instinct, now we... we might be right about one thing. We are smart. Maybe we are too smart to always run on instinct and too blind to realize when our instincts are wrong. Sure, its kept us alive for a few years. But, do you feel good about it? O wait. Feelings are for sissies. And who needs to feel good anyways... people with souls? O well OHDH

Dr.Footlove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bathroom

Now, I'm not a person to jump to conclusions about people. And, I let this kid have a decent chance of earning my respect, but when this little freak starts to touch my feet, one thing that most people should know about me is that I fucking hate when people touch me with their feet or touch mine, I just flip. It started with sitting down with me. He then began to touch my feet with his and I told myself that it was just an accident, then I moved my feet. It was when the little twerp followed them where ever I moved them when I got pretty freaked out. I moved them to the couch. His hands found them and my feet found the floor once more. I moved couches, he moved to the floor. Thus, to my feet. His head was on my feet... I moved my feet. He ordered me to put my feet on the floor. I refused. He pulled them off the couch. In the course of doing so, managed to bruise my little toe :( I told myself to stick it out and let the freak at my feet so, I gave in and let him at my feet, at move that I regret now, thinking that it would get out of his system. What an idealist I am. Anyways... he tickled them until they practically bled. He was angry. I went to the bathroom, "I'll be waiting for you..." Stayed in the bathroom for as long as I could manage. Got back. He offered to massage them, ordering me to put one on a chair. No. SOOOO WRONG. I complained of bruised feet... not a total lie. And that was that. My Aunt took me home. And that was the day I met my cousin's six-year-old footloving friend.

What If You Lived Every Day Like It Was Your Last?

What if we did? Would we get more out of life, living everyday doing whatever we wanted, no responsibilities and no regrets at the end? Or are we just kidding ourselves. See, if we knew that death could be right around the corner wouldn't we lock our doors? So, if you take to that way of thinking you are not living your life, you're just hiding from the inevitable? No matter how much you live, your death will always end with tears. Tears for what you haven't done and even tears for what you've done. So what is it? Do we sit on our asses day after day hiding from the world and it's risks or do you live everyday like it was your last? The one thing that prevents us from the later is money. It's always about money they say, and they're right to say it. How are you supposed to explore the world if you don't have money to do so? How are you supposed to live the life you want to if you don't get a job and support the economy. That's what your reward is after you work for more than half of your life, money. And who in their right mind would want to do anything after working for all their life? Thus, the couch potato. Besides, at the end there is no difference between the man who explored the world and the man who lived in his basement because they are opposites. One could tell you about one thing but not the other. So let's just stop kidding ourselves. We can't live everyday like it was our last. That's too much living for one person to do, so let the billionaires buy the world and build their skyscrapers, while some are perfectly happy with living in their basements. If there is a middle ground let me know, because I haven't found it yet.