White Girl Problems

I know many of you have been simply unable to get on with your life without my posts last week.  For this, I truly and utterly apologize (heavy sarcasm).  I am now gainfully employed and sucked dry of any spare time and/or mental ability to function outside of school or work.  Waaaaah (sympathy, sympathy, tear, tear. I live a rough life.)

Which brings me to the topic of today: White Girl Problems.  That’s right, problems white girls have that are so trivial and irrelevant to real problems they are laughable and embarrassing.  White Girl Problems started from a ridiculous fashion/pop-culture Twitter from unknown authors, and has inevitably become a part of our culture. We complain, pout, and sulk over non-issues in our daily lives, things that have no true impact but are rather just inconvenient.  They are non-issues that suddenly become issues because we make them issues.  They are literally EVERYWHERE.  Obviously, other races and cultures have created their own version of the White Girl Problems which seem to follow and uphold the stereotype quite well.  Black Girl Problems, White Boy Problems, Muslim Girl Problems, etc. etc, etc. Thus, these minute issues are not just for white girls in the suburbs, they are for anyone and everyone living in the First World.

You might have a white girl problem if you nod your head to one or more of the options/reactions below:

–  you are having trouble figuring out which animal ears to wear with your slutty black dress for Halloween = getting too drunk to care

–  you have to wait an entire week for your online shopping to arrive at your doorstep = you calling the company 132894 times to see where the eff your order is.

–  you are wearing the same lululemon outfit as the girl next to you in yoga class = you trying to out-do this impostor in every pose and giving her the stink eye on the way out of class

–  your sports team of choice just made a terrible play = kicking your dog (yes, even a puppy)

– your iPhone is 3G instead of 4S (or whatever the eff) = you secretly texting so no one see’s your outdated software and then crying to your daddy to get you the new one

–  you were just tagged in a hideous picture on Facebook = untagging, un-friending, and then getting even with a picture of her passed out in a kitty costume from last Halloween

– you received 2% milk in your Venti skinny latte = pitching a fit and thinking everyone is out to make you fat

–  you were cheated on = you not loving again and severely stalking him for the next 6-8 months

–  you get paid minimum wage to stand at a counter and greet people = UGH slavery laws are real, why can’t I be unemployed too?!

–  your pony was stolen =  

–  you can’t hug every cat = 

Im am certainly guilty of getting completely and irrationally worked up about these issues.  I mean, this is America, we get what we want when we want it.  But the other day when I was catching up on my NYT news on my break from my super hard life as a college student/barista and sipping a drink that was NOT made to my standards, I started processing the stories of terrible violence and instability in the rest of the world.  Thousands of people are killed each day, thousands more are homeless and living in complete poverty.  People work in sweatshops for 16 hours a day, and I complain about an 8-hour day of higher education when I come home to my cozy little bed with a glass of wine?  Really?  Everyone has had this realization at some point, but perhaps failed to realize it.  It’s like when someone asks how you are, you reply: “terrible! I just saw my ex-boyfriend making out with some 16 year old girl.  This is the worst day ever! But how are you?”.  They respond with something like: “I’m fine.  I just found out both of my parents were savagely kidnapped by Unicorns and my house burnt down last night.”  Obviously a hypothetical situation, but you get the point.  There will always be someone with a worse day than yours. It’s the way we react to our situations and life speed-bumps that changes the gravity.


True Life: we all have our problems.  But in reality, our 1st world problems truly don’t matter in the scheme of life.  Someone will always be having a worse day than you, so feeling sorry for yourself because you were dumped or your shoes came late in the main does no one any good.  The world will continue to spin if your latte has too much foam and your phone is outdated.  So, dear reader, start calling YOURSELF out on your White Girl Problems.  It’s healthy. It’s a level of self-awareness that everyone needs.  It’s about being able to make fun and laugh at yourself.  Acknowledge how worked up you get over silly little predicaments and realize how privileged you are to even have these problems. This might be a metaphorical slap in the face right now, and I will take full responsibility.  But a rough reality is the first step to something greater.  The more White Girl Problems you call yourself out on, the less worked up you will get and the more you will start to put things into perspective.  Throw on those rose colored glasses and see the bright side of these childish issues 🙂

On a lighter note, I’ve coined the term, “White Girl Drunk”:  the act of getting college-girl drunk via binge drinking cheap grain vodka on a busy street or alley.  Usually proceeding sluttily dancing on a bar or table with your hands over your head and singing lyrics that sound like a baby bunny is being murdered. And yes, I am guilty and did coin this term while getting White Girl Drunk this weekend,  Thank you college.

My light and love to yours. Namaste friends.


Get Weird.

While making an argument that Gypsy’s should have political standing in my Political Theory class, a girl blatantly called me out. “You are so weird”, she says.  Normally I would giggle, taunt back at her for having a fake tan and wearing heels to campus, brush it off, and then secretly cry and proceed to stick needles in her Voodoo doll (I’m kidding. I don’t do that. Voodoo dolls are so 90’s).  But today was different.  I was literally PUMPED that she called me weird.  In fact, I gloated off to find someone else to call me weird.

It made me realize the importance of those bizarre qualities we posses.  Weird is good. Weird is colorful and interesting. Weird makes us stand out from others.  It is your authenticity, your quirkiness, your you-ness.
They make us who we are.  I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have the strong urge to discuss Unicorns with strangers, tell bartenders it’s my 18th birthday, or wear neon leggings and a leotard to the library on a Wednesday.  If I didn’t have those “weird-istics”, I wouldn’t be who I am. I would be someone else. Ew.

This even also made me realize how “being weird” is frowned upon. The dictionary defines it as odd, unusual, strange, bizarre .  All pretty negative connotations.  It’s true though, anytime you use weird to describe a situation, it’s usually to portray the awkward negativity of that event (i.e. an evening at Red Rocks last Friday night, someone’s basement after the bars at 4 am, a first date encounter, etc.)

We try to fit into this category of normalcy to avoid confrontation, when we are inherently individual.  News flash: normal is boring. It seriously is soul-less and bland.   There is truly no right way.  It is made up and not-real.  Urban Dictionary says it best: “Normal- A word made up by this corrupt society so they could single out and attack those who are different.”  Ouch.  Point for the weirdos!  Thus, I motion to start a weird revolution. Change up the negativity. Embrace your inner-weird and show it to the world.  Everyone’s about to get reeeeall weiird up in here.

Now Im not saying go out and find a weird characteristic just because.  Let it be authentic and you.  Im also not supporting seriously creepy weirdnesses that are most definitely teetoring on the fence of offensiveness.  Examples:

1. Being a weird serial killer

2.  Mouth breathing

3.  Stalking (FB is ok, Im talking restraining order style)

4.  Hoarding weird animals

Don't be THAT guy.

These are no-go’s in my book.  When I say tap into your inner-weird, Im talking like break out that yarn and knitting kit in public, host your own social experiments because your interested, ask a random stranger their thoughts on anything, wear a halloween costume on a Tuesday, join a weird group.  Whatever habits you’ve been hiding, STOP HIDING THEM. Let them out.

Being weird is like being the first horse to morph a little horn out of your forehead.  All of the other horses laugh and mock your weird characteristic. But guess who’s the most majestical creature of all times now?!?! You, you ethreal Unicorn. You are the most majestical.

So here it is. True Life: Let your Freak Flag FLY!  Do a little soul searching, and find your weird niches.  And when you find them, feed into them like there is no tomorrow.  You will be shocked at how entertaining and colorful life becomes.

The light in me acknowleges in inner weird in you.


P.s. For your enjoyment: