Partners Best Friend is a What?!

It’s a real pisser trying to write sometimes (by sometimes I mean all the time). Especially when thoughts and the urge to write hit at the most inconvenient times. So that flow is there but nothing can be done about it because you’re in the middle of a ten hour work shift or slowly wasting away thanks to the flu. Most likely binging Jessica Jones though…lets be honest. So many ideas yet my flow is rough, especially when I really just want to watch IAMX music videos thanks to the fact I have his music on.

The thing is, I’ve met a wonderful girl. She’s drop dead gorgeous. Brilliant (seriously, high ass IQ). Walks into a room with her strong personality, which isn’t in your face but you just know she’s there. Has a kickass style. Hilarious sense of humor. She never fails to make you feel loved and cared for. Yet she could easily destroy you if she wanted to. This girl…no this woman, is my boyfriends best friend.


Half of you are gasping over the possible lesbianism and the other half are probably gasping over how my boyfriends closest friend is an absolutely knock out of a woman. Then again some (or all) of you might be gasping for air because your yawning so much trying to get through my writing.

Anyway, the lesbianism topic can be addressed another time. My focus is more on the “threat” that this woman is to my relationship. I don’t put threat in quotes because I think this is a competition and “I’m going to win”. It has to do with the fact that society ingrains in us this idea that our partners cannot be friends with those of the opposite sex, especially not close friends. It comes out as this primal instinct in us to feel threatened. Maybe it’s a good thing. We often go through a lot of messy roadkill to get to our perfect piece of taxidermy. Ok I might have Bates Motel on the mind and a passion for poor metaphors. Still, you get the picture I’m painting. It’s a defense mechanism, right?

I would I agree that it is. It doesn’t mean it’s the right defense mechanism. It creates hostility between two people of the same gender (both male and female). Why the hell do we need anymore of that? Here’s how I see it, if someone doesn’t have enough confidence in a partner being around their opposite sex friend (doesn’t flow off the tongue smoothly, does it?), they should speak up about their feelings or get the fuck out! Two reasons I say this  Uno: Individual might need to grow as a person till they are comfortable with who they are (not saying they have to feel like they are a Victoria Secret or GQ model, though that’s cool too) Dos: Partner might actually not be trustworthy. Thats why honesty with yourself and who you are with is so important. Also one of the reasons it’s crucial to always work on loving yourself and being confident. Though we should do that for our own personal goals of world domination. It also helps us get a better grasp on things. Rather than letting society tell us, “hey listen.” Get that fly swatter and beat Navi’s ass.

Hell, I’m an insanely jealous person. The world is a threat, not just in relationships. I can envy the way people walk sometimes to the knowledge they have on a card game. So I make a conscious effort to appreciate everyone. Everything. Dude, could you imagine if we were all the same? You ever see that episode of Fairly Odd Parents? Where everyone becomes grey blobs because Timmy wishes for that? I’ll nope right off the planet if that ever happened. Appreciate beauty, intelligence, humor, character in everyone. Don’t let it become a personal threat. Embrace it.

Plus if I were to let a dumb defense mechanism/primal instinct/jealousy society instills in us get in the way of my boyfriends friendship with his best friend, not only would that be pretty damn shitty of me. It would deprive me of having a rad as hell friend who I get doe eyed over because she makes me strive for my best with just what I see and admire in her.

Repeat after me: Partners friends of the opposite sex are not threats, they also aren’t food because remember cannibalism is frowned upon in most societies. What they actually are, is another human connection. Someone who your partner is close to for a reason. Damnit, DON’T DEPRIVE YOURSELF OF THE AWESOME. If they turn out not to be your kind of awesome, go get some wings or vegan alternative and watch some Netflix man. You can never go wrong there.

Youth is Wasted on the Young – who cares?

“Youth is wasted on the young.” Lately, I’ve been hearing these words a lot. My initial response usually involves quite a bit of obscenities, followed up by “You try to preach like you’re wiser. Yet that’s a pretty damn bitter and naive thing to say.” Of course I’m really just thinking this. An anger starts to build within me because I find it to be a selfish thing to say.

We all experience youth. It’s that simple. In saying something about youth being wasted on the young, it sounds like maybe that person squandered their own youth. That doesn’t mean there should be bitterness towards people who are currently living out their youth. We all will catch up and get old. Criticizing the way someone spends a period of time in their life is a copout.

Well maybe circumstances made their youth miserable? Yea thats very possible. Life happens. It hits us like a piano falling out of the sky because some guy screwed up putting the harness on it properly to deliver it to the 10th floor. The thing is, life is happening to everyone. We are experiencing what living is about. Being stupid and learning. Envying or judging a young persons youth is easy. It’s casting any actual thought process aside and saying “I don’t like the way they are doing that” or “I don’t like that I don’t have that.”

Instead of casting judgement on youth in such a manner. Think about the fact that age and vigor doesn’t keep the good times, bad times and the sometimes from happening to a person. I could sit back and look at a baby and envy their innocence as well as lack of responsibility. Yet instead I appreciate what they are in this moment, as well as appreciating that I am an individual going through my own stage of life. I will reach 150 years old thanks to futuristic medicine (Don’t let me live to 150). I’ll have more aches and pains, maybe some other issues. Yet I’ll be able to sit back and have that stage of life to experience. Plus I’ll be leader of a community of dogs.

Nobody likes the idea of getting older, but why? It’s opportunity to learn. Both the good things and bad. Humans are always seeking knowledge and mutual understanding. Envy and judgement cloud that ability…and that’s just a waste.  

Writers Block is a Real Condom.

That point in writing or even just creating, when you have nothing to, well…create. It’s one of the most frustrating experiences. Turning to anything for inspiration but it just leads to anger that someone else created it before you (Fuck you Britney, I know I wrote one of your hit songs when I was five…Government definitely stole that from me), or it taints your work.

As someone who tends to write (not as much as I once did), I know the pain of have a thousands of drafts with barely one sentence written. The excitement of a fresh sheet of paper and a good pen quickly turns to crumpled pages of rage. Of course the big one, a blinking cursor that is pretty much your computer giving you the middle finger. It’s flipping me off right now.

So how do you get going and not waste time on bullshit pieces that will never be completed? I suggest, don’t write an autobiography. If you are a person who tends to go into excessive detail, then definitely do not write a autobiography. It’ll lead to serious panic attacks and make you hyper aware of the ADD you may or may not know you had.

Here’s what I started to do. Pick a word. A subject. One thing. Uno. Not a general big grandiose theme. Something you can hone in on. If it leads to five other things. Narrow that word or subject down…or be awesome at bullet points. Ah crap I should probably bullet point my suggestions. Too bad I don’t have the excuse of using a typewriter just so I can go on a stream of consciousness and get away with it. Stream of consciousness coming from a seriously ADD person is rather…hectic. Kind of like a Hunter S Thompson/Alice in Wonderland hybrid and usually not eloquent at all.

Anyway, back to the point. Make sure you are comfortable writing. No not talking your emotional comfort, instead physically. My hand cramps up very quickly when I write via pen and paper. I tend to go from really nice writing to sOmethinG mOOre oR l3ss likee THIs. So even though I hated typing my pieces, I’ve learned its less painful and flows better for me. My hands just aren’t athletic enough for the pen and paper. Real shame.

It’s really about finding your flow. When you get that going, things just happen and you get a final result. Like sex and babies. You find that flow. You get a baby. Unless you got something blocking it that flow. Okay nope, I’m really not going to continue on this metaphor. I just compared writers block to a condom.

Just remember, when you have that itch to write, or that word pops into your head but you’re too tired to get up and write. Get the fuck up and write. It might be sloppy but there is something there.

If all else fails. Do what I learned from “professional” writers and fellow classmates. Drink.

Controlling: Fugly Word.

Controlling. A word I’ve learned to hate far more than ‘moist’. It’s the action that pisses me off. Unless it’s some kinda of kinky situation in the bedroom that has been agreed upon, then it just doesn’t belong. I think when someone dictates our choices and controls different aspects of our lives it hinders us.

I’ve grown up always needing approval in every way. Specifically, choices I made had to be okayed first. Sure, that’s perfectly fine as a kid. Yet, what happens once you get into your teen years? Most flat out rebelled. I was a bit more manipulative and secretive than that. No, I wasn’t out living a life like one of those coming of age movies that terrify you about having kids one day *cough* Thirteen *cough*. I didn’t go off the wall but whatever I did do, was kept under wraps. So all along I still had approval. I kept the right facade up of being the obedient child. Never did I think this would screw me over later in life.

A good portion of my life I was seeking approval from everyone. Disrupting things and not being able to keep everyone happy with me was incredibly upsetting. Over time I got over that. It can tug at me here and there, but I just don’t cave to all of my friends wants or demands. I realized I needed to start doing what I want for myself. Whether it’s something as simple as turning down plans because I want a night in or not doing something because I’m simply not interested.

The only issue that I keep coming across, is how to practice this with the person who ingrained (without ever realizing they did) this need for approval. It should be so easy to come into adulthood, yet when life beats you down repeatedly, that independent streak seems to fade. Instead of trying to recuperate it, if you have someone who swoops in out of care and concern trying to gain control of things to help, it’s just easier to cave into that comfort. It can be helpful and sometimes very necessary but when is it time to regain that strength to make ones own decisions? Without needing approval? After years of being saved and constantly showing that I needed approval from this one person, we both lost touch of how things really should be. How life progresses.

See now it’s ingrained in both our subconsciousness, that I am the one that needs constant guidance and that only one person can point me in the right direction. It becomes an unhealthy overly dependent bond. I’m aware of it now, so why can’t I just go about my business as I please? Well, for one I just don’t want to disrupt the peace. Secondly, it’s so ingrained in me that this is how it’s supposed to be. There is no fear. I’ve just allowed myself to become conditioned to this life. Wish I had some nerdy comparison, like maybe the connection between Harley and The Joker…but sounds rather scary and not accurate. Maybe more like Beast Boy’s need for constant guidance? If he’s always being guided though, how will he ever make his own decisions? Sure, we can work with that.

Here’s the solution. It’s rather stupid simple. I just have to make my choices and if it isn’t approved of, I whip out my big Harley Quinn hammer. Okay maybe not that but I do need to stick to my decisions. So to folks at home, my advice to you. Don’t allow yourself to become overly dependent on anyone. Family, friend or relationship. It’s important to really have that independent streak in you. It allows you to make the tiebreaker vote in your life because guess the fuck what, it’s your life. It’s all good to use your bat-signal once in awhile, but don’t let Batman think that you can’t handle things on your own too. He gets a little intense sometimes, and trust me, you’ll be just fine alone.

Bananananana out.

One Hell of a Experience. To Say the Least.

Well damn, I’m rather rusty. Looks like I haven’t had anything to rant about since April. Actually, I call bullshit on myself. Just haven’t bothered to collect my thoughts and organize them. It’s rather exhausting trying to do that when battling a list of mental illnesses and other issues that make it seem like I’ve got second year syndrome. So bear with me as I jump all over the place in this probably not so little writing session.

I started to write something else but realized it was too many subjects in one exceedingly long post. So save draft that shit went. Though it did start with that opening paragraph above. Seems appropriate still. So to get down to the writing and topic I suppose. I’ll tell you right now, this is about suicide. No I won’t be the depressing child I tend to be when I attempt journaling and things turn out like they belong in a Lifetime special (or maybe it will be, hey Lifetime, hit me up!). Yea, I don’t have a damn clue how to journal.

Summer 2015 does not exist. It’s dead to me. Okay, i’m telling you now, I have a very terrible sense of humor. If you do not like that one little joke there, please do not bother reading on. 

Also, part of the following was written a few months back very close to when all of this happened.

Sometime in June (I think, honestly my concept of time is terrible) I had an attempted suicide. After battling depression and anxiety for years. I just snapped one morning. There was lots of misunderstanding with my attempt. I wasn’t rushed to the hospital because the person who found me assessed the situation wrong. They thought I just took a ‘little’ extra of my meds and destroyed my arm (but nothing that caused “damage”). So I was cleaned up, forced to drink coffee, “walk” around, rest and then taken to a therapy session. All during which I was blacking out. Talk about a weird fucking experience. A bit like a movie. When a kid blacks out and wakes up to weird shit. I kept waking up and wondering what the hell I was doing there. The next day I revealed that I had taken several pills of another medication on top of taking a little extra of my regular meds.

For the next week my family was quite a wreck. I was babysat by someone everyday out of the fear. That was a strange week. I had become rather desensitized to what I had done. Meanwhile everyone else was a mess. All I wanted to do was be outside, go hiking. I felt calm and logical. I only got emotional when my mom started to rush things out of panic and make rash decisions. I took control when that would happen. I didn’t blame her, I could understand a parent responding that way. When I was asked why I did it, I said I didn’t know. Apparently the day I was blacking out I was rambling (and blacking out) that I just wanted to make everything stop, that it was all too much (did I mention blacking out?). Honestly, I don’t have a simple answer. I don’t have an answer that can be put into words. Just had a feeling that I wish I could’ve been handed over to be analyzed and understood.

Commercial break! I also attended NYC Gay Pride about a day or two after my attempt. It was probably the best thing I could’ve done for myself. So positive and loving. Also word of advice, a rainbow duct-taped chest is pretty, but PAINFUL. It was quite traumatizing.

Carrying on, different programs were being discussed for me. I was sent to be evaluated in a hospital. The doctor was supposed to talk to my mom after, but instead shoved papers in my face to go voluntarily into their psychiatric facility. I felt pressured. My mom couldn’t handle finding a program for me. The doctor said that my therapist thought this is best for me and that she agreed. So I signed the papers. Then lost it on my mom when she showed up. I was angry because i felt lied, cheated and pressured. Things smoothed over once I settled in my freezing cold temporary home on the psych floor in an unfamiliar are.

Psych was terrifying, annoying, hilarious and peaceful. I can discuss those experiences another time. I will say this, we weren’t allowed to have pencils outside of the art room, because apparently someone tried to stab someone a few weeks prior. Though when I was there, my biggest threats were things like a dude walking around without his pants on, someone having an “accident”, those fucking showers and the food (I lived off cake). Oh and the condescending med students. “Hi Jess, how are YOU today?” “Why did you color the flower THAT color?” Sweet-fucking-heart, if you talk to me like I’m inept one more time, I will have some things to say that will land you in here with me as a patient. Also I colored it blue because it’s my favorite color. Of course I just grit my teeth and dealt with it, went to group meetings, and quietly cursed the nurse who convinced me to check in… right before a damn holiday weekend. So there were no doctors there, and I couldn’t use my option to get out within 48hours if I wanted to because discharge never occurs on weekends. Keep that in mind folks. If you plan to land yourself in a psych unit, don’t do it before a holiday. It’s a royal bitch. Also make sure you have a psychiatrist lined up for when you get out. I was stuck there longer because they had to find me a new one who would see me on short notice.

There were some good people, mainly aids and assistants. One lady got me cake right away when she noticed I wouldn’t eat the food there. She saved everyone from my moodiness due to hunger, but my stomach got fucked up from all the sugar I consumed (And hell no, I lied my ass off when nurses asked me if I was doing fine going to the bathroom. I saw far too many people have accidents while I was there). Then I bonded with aid while speaking Spanish as we watched the Women’s World Cup. He learned about how damn queer I am. The night I arrived there, a nurse asked about injuries, I told her I had a demolished ankle (from a really bad drunken mishap weeks earlier…that part i left out). She told me to complain about it so I could get it taken care of. That got me out of psych for a good thirty minutes and a wheelchair ride. Which when you are in a psych unit with no outdoor area, that’s a fucking vacation.

All-in-all it was beneficial in order to get put on new meds that worked but fuck is that a complicated way to go about a simple thing.

After getting out, I very quickly cornered the market on jokes that made people uneasy. “I’d die…! Too soon?” Except usually much better and wittier, but my tired brain will not remember those golden moments. Quite unfortunate.

Now I think I can go write a novel about what to do to make it through a Psych unit. I do suggest, not pretending the painting of the outdoors on the wall is real. Do not try and sniff the fake tree. 

Honestly though, Psych units in my experience between what I dealt with, what a family member shortly after me, dealt with and a friend shortly after that, they can be a total joke. That being said, it is a good place to be to stay safe (though I did get creative those first two nights in my head) and it is quite an experience. I connected with some people that at first, scared me to no end. The right medications were introduced. Ultimately, I came out appreciating the real world a lot more. It was one hell of a reminder.

Please Take A Moment

Hey guys,

A close family member of mine has tried for so long to have a baby. It’s all she ever wanted. Kendra used to even run her own little daycare just to be able to be around kids. She is the most kindhearted, nurturing person I know.

On April 19th, Savannah was born via Cesarean. Shortly after her birth they discovered that she has, amongst other serious problems, Heterotaxy Syndrome – a rare disorder which effects only four in one million babies born. Her heart, lungs, liver and other vital organs are on the wrong side of her body and her oxygenated and non-oxygenated blood are mixing. A team of surgeons at Phoenix Children’s Hospital are working frantically to map out the first of MANY surgeries she will require over many years.

The medical costs will be astronomical and devastating for this family, as is the emotional impact this is having on this young couple and the entire family.

A Go Fund Me site has been set up for Savannah. If you are able to donate that would honestly be the first prayer answered. If not please share this post and keep Savannah and her family in your prayers.

Heartfelt thanks to you all.

Please help my little fox. She’s a fighter and I believe in her.

To donate:


Ignorance is Ignorance.

Honestly I’ve seen some comments from individuals all over the place that hit really sensitive genuine issues in this world. Comments that stem from what I believe is selfishness, ignorance or the need to always oppose something. This actually upsets on a very deep level. There is so much happening in this world that I still cannot believe people are not waking up to SPEAK up. They couldn’t be bothered to try and educate themselves and then others. Simply because it does not effect them. Even worse some believe they are educated and then just choose to oppose whatever the topic may be.

Racism, sexism and homophobia are some of the few issues I’ve recently witnessed.

There are places that are created for the LGBTQ community. “Gay bars” used to be the place to meet others, but what has become popular are LGBTQ Cafes. Which is pretty awesome. Nobody wants to always hit the bars to meet people. A cafe is such a neat setting! The thing that I’ve witnessed heterosexual individuals saying is they feel “left out.” Excuse me, what? Lets just take a step back for a moment. You feel left out, because people that are not heterosexual need to go to “designated” areas to meet others they KNOW they will relate to on a specific level? While you can walk into any Starbucks, any mall, any movie theater and be surrounded by people you know you could go up to and say “Hey you’re cute, can I get your number?” Yes there is a much greater acceptance of those who are LGBTQ, but it’s not like they can strike up conversation at any local Starbucks about what it’s like growing up queer and expect the opposite person to relate. Let’s get real here, deep conversations and date “requests” do happen in random places with complete strangers. So you feel left out that there is a place where a queer human being can go and meet other people they relate to? Also it’s not like there is a sign on these places saying “NO HETEROSEXUAL PEOPLE ALLOWED.” Just know if you go in you can’t complain about not being able to relate to people there and don’t be surprised if someone flirts with you. Stop being selfish and thinking “They have that, so I want that!” Nobody likes a Veruca Salt.

From what I have been seeing on the news, reading and even witnessing this world has obviously NOT made as much progress as some of us thought. If anything we are regressing. It’s 2015 and people of color are concerned for their lives. That is such a scary thing to know. Which is why when I see some of the plain stupid as well as messed up things posted on the internet or coming out of uneducated individuals mouths, I wont keep quiet.

Recently it was brought to my attention (on Facebook) that there was a photoshoot in which they took a white woman and posed her as a African Queen. Now I have issues with the beauty and fashion industry to start. Beauty standards in the world of fashion and such are honestly getting so boring and unattainable. Whenever I think of the fashion/beauty industry I think of the episode of Phineas and Ferb where Candice becomes this GIANT and thats the “new face of beauty” because the goal was “lets make everyone else feel like they will never be beautiful because THIS is what beauty is.” Where is the TRUE diversity and beauty that every human being presents? We see the same faces over and over again. Now thats not to say there haven’t been some AWESOME breakout women and men in the industry as of late. Models with Vitiligo, models that are curvier, models that are totally unique looking. Which is honestly what beauty is about. Uniqueness. Eyes that might be further apart that capture ones attention, or wider jawline, etc etc. These are things that make us take a second glance at someone and say wow theres something that is striking about them. Unfortunately these models that are breaking barriers aren’t getting enough recognition.

With all this said about the beauty and fashion industry, I’m embarrassed and angered that someone thought it was ok to take a white girl and paint her black. Go get one of the millions of striking people of color that are out there to do a photoshoot if you are aiming to go for a look that has to do with uh….people of color. Don’t try and pass off a photoshoot as “artistic” when really it’s just a “glammed” up version of black face. Now why did I bring up the point about Candice being a giant earlier? Because lets speak the truth, SO MUCH of the beauty industry is made up of white people. We are BOMBARDED with it. Yes, I am in fact a white person myself and the beauty industry already breaks down my self confidence. I can’t imagine what it must be like to grow up in a world being a person of color where EVERYWHERE you look, it’s just another white face with the word beauty next to it. It disturbs me because I hear and see things like young girls of color questioning if they are beautiful. “White” is being marketed. It’s the “unattainable” beauty for a 10 year old girl of color just like nobody can be a giant like Candice except for, Candice. You see more white people walking down runways or on the covers of magazines. When there is a person of color, it’s considered “exotic” or it’s a special because it’s a breakout celebrity. There’s nothing exotic to it. They are just as beautiful, and it’s not in an “Exotic” way. They just are. It’s that simple. Young kids are being brainwashed and it’s scary to see a magazine do blackface. Again, because that IS what they have done. I don’t care what their goal was (“for art”- bullshit, use your brain), did ANYBODY stop during the planning of this photoshoot to think this isn’t right, did anyone realize how wrong it was DURING the photoshoot…Or did anybody before printing it, editing it? So many chances and I would think there could’ve been so many people who could’ve said HEY WAIT A MINUTE, this is messed up. Which makes me question whoever is involved with this editorial. Obviously not a bright bunch if they thought this was ok.

Now when I chimed in on this Facebook post saying a lot of this, many people were in agreement. Yet of course there is the one person when you say up they say down, which is a dangerous game to play when it comes to these serious issues. I received a response that went like so, “WAIT WAIT WAIT YOUR ALL FUCKING DUMB WHAT A WHITE PERSON CAN’T POSE DRESSED AS A BLACK WOMAN BUT ITS OK TO PORTRAY A WHITE CHARACTER AS BLACK (ANNIE,HUMAN TORCH,SPIDER-MAN)? HOW DOES IT FEEL NOT TOO GOOD RIGHT? GOD DAMM THIS WORLD SUCKS.”

I thought this person must be sarcastic or something, no way someone could actually think a black actor playing a role that was originally done by a white actor is even on the level with blackface. Which brought up something I saw on tumblr. A black girl was dressed as Khalessi (May I say she was an AWESOME ONE at that). See the difference is she didn’t go and make her skin white. The remake of Annie, they didn’t change her skin tone to be a black actress meant to look white. Same with the other movies this person mentioned. Plus blackface was a thing to offend and degrade people of color. “Whiteface” isn’t even common and honestly, Caucasians haven’t been degraded and abused the way lots of different people of color have been for far too long. Clothing is doesn’t have a race per-say, so they could’ve dressed up the model in the clothes but left out changing her skin color. When I shared this I had the pleasure of receiving a response that went like, “they wanted a white model to be a black queen your not getting the point so your either 1. very stupid or 2. very ignorant towards white people playing black people.” I had to swallow the anger that was building up in me and remain respectful. I won’t lower myself to name calling. It would just taint the issue at hand. I made that clear in a response. To which I received yet another lovely response (I hope my sarcasm is coming through clear). “why have a black annie when we have tons of young white girls why have a black human torch when we have a bunch of white men to play him im not wrong here you are.” I went off topic a little bit to clarify yet something else he was bringing up. These roles in movies are not strictly for white people. Just because in the original/origin of the movie/comic the person might be white doesn’t mean a talented black man or woman shouldn’t play the role. In the movies this person mentioned, the actors didn’t play the roles pretending to be white. They didn’t paint themselves to be white. That’s the point. They just played the characters as a person of color. In the photograph I had an issue with they took a white woman and painted her black. That is called blackface. They didn’t hire a white woman to dress up as a “queen.” They tried to make her look black. I tried making this clear and was very repetitive. Just hoping maybe this person needed to be educated a bit. In the movies mentioned these actors are playing the characters not as “black people that are trying to be played off as white”. Also it’s not like there is a rule that Spider-Man has to be white. I mean all the comics have multiple universes. There’s several different “spider men and women”. But that’s besides the point. “Black Annie” wasn’t pretending to be white. So don’t compare that to blackface.

Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is ignorance. Not educating yourself, is harmful to yourself and others. Ego and selfishness limits you from bringing amazing people into your life and it causes you to sound quite honestly like an ass. If you aren’t informed ask people about things. Watch whats going on in the world. Open your eyes. Don’t just ignore it because you don’t face these challenges personally. Please.