Again I Go Unnoticed

Hey everybody. So you know how I said I was going to do a “Through Being Cool” Pt Deux?

Well, this isn’t it yet. But you can consider this a prelude of sorts because something did happen that lead me to hatch this egg of a post.

And that thing was…

Sitting alone on a blue bench by a tree while everyone else around me talked about their fun, drunken night together.


Yeah, it felt like day camp all over again.Sitting alone… on a blue bench… by a tree.

While all the kids around me played tag and swung on the swing set.

And then I said to myself:

Thanks to whoever made this.
(Thanks to whoever made this)

Just kidding. I did what anyone in my shoes would do after getting shunned. I bought new shoes.

But I did sort of recite those lyrics to myself on the inside, because more importantly, I felt uber, super, ultra lame and left out. And what did I say in my  previous T.B.C. post?

I hate being left out.

Yes, even at nearly 25 years old, I hate it.

Why do I hate it? Because I am a young, social being. I love camaraderie.

But I thought to myself,

Why can’t I just take part in their little stories and join in the conversation anyway?

Yeah, I just couldn’t. I felt as if my trying to squeeze myself into their fun times would only make things more awkward than how I already felt.

And besides, I didn’t want to fuel their fire and comment on stuff I didn’t do anymore. Taking part in the conversation would just lead me to talk about my own past drunken stories and remind me of that part of me that I put aside forever.

So I just sat there and stared off in an other direction while they laughed and reminisced, totally wanting to remove myself from this situation as soon as possible.

“Someday you’ll find those people you can relate to,” someone told me later after I threw myself a little pity party.

Yes, I had to remember what a wise man once wrote about what being friends with the world means…

So I got over it for the moment. But sooner or later the monster will come out again. Unless I find its lair and slay it while it’s sleeping…

Until next time,

Marissa (emdigistar)

(Pssst…If you have any advice on how to curb this awful feeling, please share your golden nuggets of wisdom with me ūüėČ )

Through Being Cool

I feel as though this entry may be written too prematurely since I really wanted to make another post before this one, but circumstances have led me to post this first.

So that being said, here it goes. So this blog title is from an album title of a band I used to listen to quite often in my  middle school days and is just SO appropriate: The album cover is of the band members sitting squished together on a couch with bored-looking faces as the others are enjoying a house party behind them.

That is exactly how I feel at this time in my life.

Not “bored” necessarily, but just through with it all, trying to live for something bigger and better than myself.

I made the decision to be “socially abstinent” ( a phrase I’ll use for abstaining from the usual young-adult social activities like drinking and partying) around the time when I just turned 21, which of course was odd timing.

You decided to stop drinking at 21?! MADNESS!!

Yeah I did make that decision, except there was one problem: it didn’t last.

I mean really, no wonder it didn’t last. I was caught in between telling(or rather, sort of telling) my social group that I was “trying to stay away from alcohol” while still going out with them to bars every week. No wonder I struggled.

Needless to say, I downward spiraled. My glass of water turned into mixed drinks and beer before I knew it.

And I just accepted that. I didn’t want to be that loser who wasn’t socializing with the masses. Heck, who wants to be left out? I know I certainly did not and still don’t.

I HATE the feeling of being left out. I always have. I always longed for that group of friends that I can turn to no matter what, but that group died out the summer before I entered high school (go figure) and the group I formed in high school died out just before college (go figure).

So naturally in my young adult life I want that again. But here is the twist…

I don’t drink anymore. At all. Ever.

I also don’t:


-Go to clubs

-Do drugs

-Have sex (wait, WHAT. But you’re 24!! Yeah, yeah, I’ll address this one later).

-Go to bars (generally) UNLESS there is some type of event like a birthday or a concert, and even then I have to really question if going there will benefit me.

“But you can have fun and still go to those places, just don’t drink!”

Look, that may be all fine and dandy to some people, but the reality is that I know I struggled being in certain environments. The fact is:

If you’re trying to change your life, you need to say goodbye to that old man.

So goodbye I said, and I haven’t looked back ever since. I have been nearly two years¬†sober ( it will officially be two years on my 25th birthday) and ¬†nearly 10 months sexually abstinent.

That does not mean I don’t struggle.

I do. But I have had so much change happen in my heart that I just can’t accept going back to that lifestyle.

I will elaborate on those struggles and the reasons why I made changes in a later post.

Until then,


Cage-free, the way to be?

The tiny thing lies on the ground, eyes barely opening, its chest heaving with struggled breaths. Around it, others of its kind trample over it trying to find an escape from the light of day that never seems to turn into dark night.

I don’t know about you, but ever since my switch to vegetarianism (8 years ago), I have wondered how it is that people seem not to think about the state of living of the animals they eat.

I mean, just thinking about an animal being injured, let alone slaughtered, is enough to make me sob with little ceasing. It is as if my heart breaks day by day. The only thing that enables me to get through the knowledge of animal suffering, to get through a day of reading an article about a baby giraffe being slaughtered at a zoo, is that someday, I hope, all of that suffering will cease.

It helps, though, to learn a little bit more about how exactly these animals raised for food are treated. When I stopped eating eggs for a time, I was set on never eating another one ever again. I just could not be content in my heart knowing the suffering those animals went through just so I could scarf down an omelette. At that time, I had just finished a marvelously written book called Eating Animals by J.S. Foer. The chickens Foer witnessed were in conditions just like the one I wrote in the first paragraph, in fact that reference is from his book.

At that moment, I was set on what to do: no more eggs, ever.

But then two little words started making their way into my view:¬†cage-free. Well, if the chickens are cage-free, it’s all good, right? That was the reason I decided not to eat eggs anymore, because they were all trapped in tiny little cages. So I started eating eggs again, sort of. I still wasn’t completely comfortable, but my conscience was not as heavily burdened.


Actually, cage-free is the way to deceive.

Cage-free, free-range, free-roaming only means they have some access to outdoors, with living conditions being just as bad as if they did not have the outdoor access.

They are still suffering.

There is no regulation on how many birds are squished in one space, male chicks are thrown away, and hens have their beaks removed without any pain-killing remedy.

Cage-free, the way to be?

I would rather live my life eating things that do not require another living, breathing being to suffer purely for my benefit.

Check out Eating Animals: