Is Selfie-Confidence the New Self-Confidence?

A guy once did a good creep over of all my social media accounts and asked/told me: "You're a good-looking girl, but there's no selfies so you must lack self-confidence?" We never talked again because what the hell.

But then it happened again. A new friend request, then a few days later, "It's weird that you don't post pictures of yourself anywhere. Why is that?"

That was less bizarre to me, so I engaged further in the dialogue, only to be met eventually with the question as to why I wouldn't put up more selfies of myself UNLESS I didn't have confidence in my physical looks.

This time, though, it did make me really wonder about it. Why am I getting slammed for not posting pictures of myself? Doesn't it mean something that I value myself enough, and have enough confidence on my own, without needed the "likes" and approvals of my social media peers? Is "omg hawt" from my friend that feels morally obligated to comment on a selfie really supposed to make my heart flutter with self-confidence?

Why is it now assumed that because I don't take daily pictures of myself and subject my followers to scroll through them imply that I am a heifer? I mean, I am self- aware enough to know I am no model, but I am also confident enough to know that my looks don't make people want to burn their eyes out. Or at least, no one has yet to burn their eyes out after seeing me, that I know of.

If this is a sign of the times, I want out.

I want back to the days where a guy will compliment you in person, and not just throw you a "like" on one of your super-filtered is that even you anymore selfies and call it a day. Let's #throwbackthursday to a time before #wcw'ing someone was a way of telling them you liked them. Oh. My. Gosh. Maybe we can even talk about our feelings face to face and not via text messages rife with ambiguous emojis.

Nah, I'm probably asking too much.

The One True Hero of Tonight [guest post]

By Cazey Williams Tonight I visited our friend, Sara (assuming we’re all friends if you’re reading this blog), and she basically ignored me while she worked on an upcoming blog (salacious tidbit: it’s about Ebola). And so, since I’m a millennial, I can’t occupy myself, so I turned to the TV where ABC was playing some Game of Thrones spinoff. Except, wait, it’s a reality show.

Yes, folks . . . that doesn’t make sense, does it?

Consequently, we decided that I should narrate this experience of watching “The Quest,” otherwise known as “Lord of the Rings” on primetime ABC featuring bad actors and LARPers escaped from their mothers’ basements, for Tweets & Mascara’s first ever pop culture blog.

This show might already be better than “The Bachelor,” because their first task in tonight’s episode is to kill a dragon.

“You can hear the dragon breathing and feel the earth shaking,” a woman tells us. No, ma’am, that’s the camera work.

Contestant Lina makes a “stupid mistake.” Quote unquote her. Gosh, the dragon might eat her.

At this point we can’t even see the dragon. There are just a lot of fog machines. Wait, I’m probably supposed to mistake that for smoke.

“I hope everyone is having this problem,” a man tells the camera (presumably after the chaos has subsided), “because if not, I’ll look like a fool.” Because you aren’t freaking out about a CGI dragon or anything. If it’s even CGI. If we even see it.

“I have to remind myself what I’m fighting for,” a burly man vents in his video diary. Like, what are you fighting for, sir? A cash prize? Tickets to Comic Con? Or is it Galleons at Gringotts?

Following the dragon saga (which not sure what happened), we learn that our contestants have to face the Fates who primarily consist of a youthful, but bald woman who stares into the camera and whispers stuff about the quest – you know, the name of the show. Very self-explanatory stuff.

“We just gotta focus on the Fates now,” a woman who looks like Zena lets us know. “We just gotta remember, we locked up the dragon, we’re good now.” So that’s what happened to the dragon.

Apparently everyone wants to be the one true hero. This phrase is repeated at every turn. Someone informs the viewer, “They’re other things that a hero needs to possess to be the one true hero.” But you don’t need 20/20 vision if you’re a Harry Potter fan.

Sara laments, “The amount of times I’ve heard ‘one true hero’ is sorta surreal.” Not as surreal as that dragon.

Then they discuss who has the sun sphere. Gtfo. I go to the bathroom.

When I return, our contestants are going after the, sigh, dragon’s eggs. How is this primetime television again?

"We get to this barren field with these deep pits,” contestant Bonnie describes as the camera lets us see a barren field with deep pits. In these pits are the eggs, which will burn you if you touch them. Thanks for letting us know.

“After getting up to the dragon egg, you can smell it,” Zena’s twin says. Tell me, Zena, what does dragon smell like?

Back at the Fates, someone gets voted out. Excuse me, banished. Or was she Fate’d?

Bye-bye – but wait, she has wisdom for us: “Being a hero doesn’t mean you have to go and save an entire kingdom. You can be a hero in your everyday life.” Or star in your own ABC reality show.

Bonnie will now live action role play as a motivational speaker.

After watching this show for an entire hour (though distracted by a dog that wants a walk and Sara bending over chip dip in front of the TV), I’m still confused.

A Really Pathetic Poem

Like I was saying in a previous blog post, Writing About Writing, I adore writing, but am highly limited in regards to my success in a variety of styles. To strengthen my point, I am about to take one for the team, willingly allow myself to be embarrassed, and share a poem I wrote. In my own defense, I happened to write this after a long evening of consuming a certain beverage, and was rather stressed about work. Without further adieu, here is probably the worst poem you've ever read: I'd drink away my problems but I don't have the finances for it.

So instead it's just me and the ceiling having a staring contest.

I'd toss it all away and start again, but I've tried that and everything finds it way back.

Back where? Back home?

If home is where the heart is but my heart isn't in one place, does that make me homeless?

Let's just burrow that thought back down into the recesses for another loneliness.

Now let's just break this poem down. First off, I wrote it when I had been drinking, so the first line is not even factual. The second line is accurate EVERY NIGHT as I lay down to sleep, and there really is no actual qualm about it. Third line, well I have moved but not much is creeping in on me at the moment. Nor do I actually have any demons that could even make their way out of any closets. And let's just wrap up this emo laden poem by saying that I actually have a home. It's Richmond. And if that doesn't count, I can always go back to my home in Connecticut.

Beyond the content not even making sense, it says something that I can only attempt to write poetry when I'm not in my normal state of mind, because normal me knows that's something to avoid. Furthermore, is this even a poem? Nothing rhymes. There's no symbolism. The general message is barely there. I will be willing accepting rotten tomatoes for this disgrace to the poetic writing form.