First World Problems

It has become commonplace to hear the term “First World Problem” used among friends, on websites; there is even a meme dedicated to this newly coined phrase.

The first definition for problem found on the online Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines it as “something that is difficult to deal with: something that is a source of trouble, worry, etc.”

The idea is, that the problem in question is something only someone living in the privileged “First World,” i.e. Western developed countries, would consider a problem. Therefore it is superficial and/or inane.

I totally understand why this has become a regularly used term and I think it is positive that people are showing some sort of awareness of how much we have to be thankful for in the “First World” and how much complaining we often do.

However, let’s be real here. Our “First World Problems” are still sources of trouble! They drive you crazy, and sometimes elicit strong emotional reactions (usually disproportionately so but whatever.)

Without further ado, I am going to be a huge brat and offer you my top _ First World Problems sans memes.

  1. I am not sure whether I consider the new phenomenon of sneakers with a hidden wedge cute or hideously ugly.


    cute or horrible?

  2. There is really no opportunity to make a living out of being a philosopher. Like the type of philosopher teenagers think of, ones that sit around and think really deep thoughts. The ones that are having a permanent existential crisis. I wish I could get paid to philosophize.

    also, why is there no philosopher's stone? Nick Flamel? Anyone?

    also, why is there no philosopher’s stone? Nick Flamel? Anyone?

  3. Whenever I do my make-up in artificial light and then go out into nature, I look like an oompa loompa (minus the green hair). There is something about my bedroom lighting that makes it seem like I never have enough bronzer on. No matter how much I dust onto myself, I end up looking like Snow White’s distant cousin. BUT SUDDENLY when I’m outside in natural lighting I look like an orange.

    cute, but not the look I’m going for. EVER

  4. There is no longer a leisure class. Think of they families present in Jane Austen who have a living from their land and don’t really do anything but read and enjoy art. They have balls and play card games and spend long séjours at the residences of friends and families. Maybe this class exists among the crazy wealthy and crazy lucky but it’s hard to imagine even someone rich off of investments being able to shuffle off to friends’ places for 6 months at a time.

    BALLS! (be mature, we are all adults here)

    BALLS! (be mature, we are all adults here)



And there you have it… What are your most trouble-causing, worry-inducing first world problems?

All these emotions… Go away

Staying true to every other blog I have ever attempted to write, I have neglected this one for a few months. 

I am back. 

The topic of today’s post?

Grief. And feelings. Ugh, feelings. 

If you’ve read my post on the poetry thing I went to in June (hint: go read it) you will have garnered that I am not entirely psyched about the ability to “feel” things.  Unfortunately events this past year (hint: read the post on bad days) have caused me to feel a lot of things. I thought, perhaps, that I was done feeling! I had made it through hell and high water and now I am back in a fairly content state of being impervious to sadness. 

Well was I ever wrong. 

It turns out that I spent so much time in the past suppressing my feelings, I did it subconsciously this time around. My feelings of grief and sadness around losing my mother kindly hid themselves away so I could deal with horrible break-ups and emotional breakdowns. 

Now that I am in a healthy relationship, and things have settled down in every other area of my life, the loss of my mother is hitting me harder than ever. 

On her birthday a couple days ago I was a sobbing mess. Watching Miss Marple discover who killed a woman near Rutherford hall (“They do it with mirrors”) I became an emotional wreck recollecting when my mother and I enjoyed curling up in the basement to watch Miss Marple or Poirot. 

I  feel like I am treading on a thin layer of ice under which lies all of my unused tears.

I am trying something new. 

I have resolved to write more often, on this blog and in more personal venues (yes, I am trying to journal). I am attempting to exercise regularly – I am going to go on a run today! I am spending more time reading comforting books (Harry Potter) and I am even going to start reading a book on grief called Motherless Daughters. I am even going to try and seek counselling.

I feel as though I am going on an adventure into non-feeling suppressing territory and it’s scary. 

Perhaps I will be able to come through this a stronger person who is more in touch with her less desirable feelings. 


Wish me luck.