When All is Done

I came across an article that had a list of "thought provoking questions" to ask yourself. The one that stuck out to me the most was:

What would people say about you at your funeral?

As weird and morbid as this sounds, I think about this subject quite a lot. I have this image in my head of what my funeral will look like. And to start, it doesn't look anything like your run-of-the-mill funeral. I see colors and patterns, for no one should be wearing black. I hear live jazz music and upbeat rhythms, for there should be no solemn tunes. I see smiles instead of tears, I hear laughter instead of sobs. I want people to celebrate my life, rather than mourn my death.

I feel like that this is an accurate representation of who I am. I am not a sad, pessimistic person who lives their life in black and white. I would hope that the stories and speeches illustrate a happy, fun-loving, colorful person. I don't need to be remembered by all, but if I can manage to make a difference in a handful of lives, I would say that I lived my life well. 

Bang Bang Bangity Bang...

I debated writing this blog post for a while. It's extremely personal, and not something you tend to share with strangers. But I've never let that stop me before, so here goes:

You may or may not know that up until recently, I was a virgin. According to my own definition, losing my virginity meant sexual intercourse (or to dumb it down for you: penis in vagina). Now, to preface this, I am fully aware of the fact that "virginity" is nothing but a social construct and that each person defines their own definition of what that word means. As a heterosexual female, who, up until the last three years had little to no experience with the opposite sex, this definition hasn't changed much. That being said, I am not ignorant to the fact that someone of a different sex, gender or sexual identity, will have a different way to define "virginity."

I wouldn't say I am an expert on the matter, nor anywhere close, but I have gathered a good amount of knowledge on the subject of sex. Like most stories, it starts with an awkward sex-ed class in elementary school meant to educate us of the male and female anatomy. And then there's the even more awkward high school classes where your teacher tries to scare you with pictures of STIs, or a former nun informs you that even abstinence isn't 100% effective (you can never forget Mary). But it wasn't until college that I felt comfortable enough with myself to really learn more about sex. Between conversations with my friends, watching youtubers like Laci Green, and reading articles, I seem to have gathered quite a bit of information.

That being said, after hearing horror stories from different people, my expectations were extremely low. I was imagining awkwardness or excruciating pain. But the truth is, my first time was wonderful. I felt safe, relaxed, and I was having fun. It made me thankful that I waited for a time where I felt comfortable. And it's almost liberating to no longer be tied to the stigma that goes along with being a virgin. 


But in all seriousness, ...I said a bang bang bangity bang.