To be (vulgar) or not to be

To be (vulgar) or not to be

I think I’ve been writing with a filter.

I tell myself I’m not.

But I am. 

I hate that.

I keep thinking about who is reading. Who is reading. Who is reading?!

I keep thinking it’s him, or it’s him.  And he keeps thinking it’s Him.  And she keeps thinking it’s HIM.

I know they all read.  My father reads. Your mother reads. Your cousin reads.  Your new girlfriend reads. (Weird) 

Yeah…I don’t know why she does, but she does.

Also, I believe i've got some ex girlfriends out there reading too (Hi, you actually seem pretty cool. :) Thanks for reaching out to me :) Stay awesome.

Hi everybody.

I’m tired of being afraid of being vulgar.  I’m tired of protecting people.  I’m tired of privacy.

It’s not my thing.  It’s not the way I swing.

I’m tired of people holding their breath.  I’m tired of not answering.

I keep thinking about who is reading.

I need to keep thinking about who is writing.

There’s a story I keep thinking of. I’ve wanted to tell it for a while. But I haven’t.

Now I will.

It’s the time I heard my mother say fuck.  She wanted to, but she was afraid.  We were in the car.  I told her, it’s a word.  It has as much power as you give it.  If you think it’s a bad word, it will be.  If you think it’s a release, it will be.  If you think it’s funny, it will be.  If you think it’s love, it will be.  If you think it, just to think it, it will just…be.

And then she said it. And she giggled. And she said it again! And again! And again! And I said it. And like the penis game, we screamed fuck out the window to all of Utah loud. And louder! And louder!

And then I said we were making mother-fucking progress.  And then she stopped and froze and looked at me and said Mother with the F word is not okay.  Do not say this together, Jade. I don’t like being together with the F word.

I shrugged.  The moment had passed.

And she didn’t say “fuck” anymore.

Man - I’ve wanted to tell that story for a while.  But to be honest, I had been afraid to write the word fuck so many times.  You know, I didn’t want to be tasteless.  But the story is liberating and cute and it’s one of my favorite memories with my mom: the moment we threw our cares out the window and we just forgot about the rest of the world.  

It makes me happy because we stopped worrying about our surroundings…for a few short moments at least.

We forgot about how we would sound to others, because we were only focused on what we felt when we said it.  

And it felt so good that once wasn’t enough.


With love. With happiness.  With sincerity. With kindness. With honesty. 

With liberation.

Fuck it. Say what you think. Do what you feel.  Don’t be afraid.



Pancake Day

Pancake Day