tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85091064107222309602024-03-13T11:36:49.036-07:00I shave my legs with conditionerAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-61453269989487301642012-04-09T18:26:00.001-07:002012-04-09T20:09:12.562-07:00Outgrowing Religion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Read<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/08/opinion/sunday/kristof-learning-to-respect-religion.html"> this article </a>this morning. It's an Op-Ed piece entitled "Learning to Respect Religion" by New York Times journalist, Nicholas Kristof. I subscribe to his <a href="https://www.facebook.com/kristof">public updates on Facebook</a>, as I find a lot of the topics he writes on interest me. I was surprised to read this particular article, though, as I could not disagree with him more on the subject matter. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The main point of the commentary is to illustrate a perceived movement of late among the Atheist community to have <span style="color: #990000;">"...grudging admiration for religion as an ethical and cohesive force."</span> Obviously, I can't speak for any other atheist, and certainly not for an entire community, but the idea strikes me as laugh out loud absurd. Stating facts as they are is not a "grudging admiration"; any more than stating that the sky is blue means that blue is your favorite color. Reality is that inside an incredibly large pile of fear, evil and hate, religion does have a few sociological nuggets of positive service to humanity. Plain and simple. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Kristof goes on to point these out: </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"...the ways in which religions deliver sermons, promote morality, engender a spirit of community, make use of art and architecture, inspire travels, train minds and encourage gratitude at the beauty of spring."</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12576334-religion-for-atheists">From "Religion For Atheists", by Alain de Botton</a>)</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> And to explain that </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">scientists often misunderstand religion because they home in on individuals rather than on the way faith can bind a community." </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Essentially saying that to completely dismiss religion as an organization, is to
also dismiss a large amount of good that lends to a strong society. And that
because of this, religious organization deserves, at the very minimum,
universal respect. The last line kills me because I all I can imagine is him following it up with, "Don't hate the playa'; Hate the game." <br /><br />From </span><a href="http://blog.chron.com/partisangridlock/2012/04/respecting-religion-for-all-the-wrong-reasons/" style="line-height: 22px;">Geoff Berg’s response at Partisan Gridlock</a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"> yesterday:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /><span style="color: #990000;">“<i><u><b>Atheism is the rejection of theism.</b></u></i> It isn’t an organizing
principle, it isn’t a political philosophy and it certainly isn't a religion.
It is the rejection of a proposition. That’s it. Nobody disputes that religion, which is an
organizing principle and a political philosophy, can unify people, and
occasionally to the greater good. Every
major religion can point to a charitable arm that passes out food, builds
hospitals, and clothes the poor.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Religion also unifies the government of the Islamic Republic
of Iran in the belief that burying adulterers to their necks and stoning them
to death will spare the rest of society god’s wrath. It unifies members of
al-Qaeda in the belief that flying planes into buildings is the execution of
god’s will. It unifies leaders of the "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord's_Resistance_Army">Lord's Resistance Army</a>" in the belief that forcing children to mutilate and murder members of their own
families is a divinely ordained mission. Religious belief unifies Jewish
fundamentalists in the belief that evicting families from their homes in the
West Bank and taking their land is justified because the territory was deeded
to them in perpetuity by the almighty.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hezbollah, the Iranian-sponsored Lebanese terrorist group,
is unified by violent, fundamentalist Shia Islam. It is responsible for killing
thousands — including 241 US marines, soldiers and sailors. <a href="http://www.mepc.org/journal/middle-east-policy-archives/hezbollahs-social-jihad-nonprofits-resistance-organizations?prin">It is also one ofLebanon’s largest providers of health care</a>.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Kristof is inexplicably impressed with Haidt’s research
showing that fear of god makes for a more orderly society. Is it really a
scientific revelation that fear forces people to act in accordance with what
they believe to be the wishes of an omnipotent, jealous, and vengeful being who
condemns the non-compliant to everlasting torment if they refuse (as described
by his helpful earthly proxies, of course)?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #990000; line-height: 22px;">Sounds a lot like a dictatorship, which as Kim Jong Un and
his late father and grandfather can attest, is a great way to keep people in
line."</span><br />
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BRAV-O. Could not have been put any
better than that myself. That which brings small amounts of good... or if you want to be generous, even a good for every evil... deserves no respect in the face of it's degree of human devastation. </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wayne_Gacy" style="line-height: 22px;">John Wayne Gacy</a><span style="line-height: 22px;"> murdered at least 33 men in the course his life time. We don't condone or forget this because he also brought so much joy to the children when he would dress like a clown and entertain them. That would be insanity. Why, then, is organized religion any different or given any more of a free pass?</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22px;">Every problem facing the world at large right now has it's root in a religious conflict. The elimination of religion would do more to heal the world than all other solutions that circumvent the root combined. This is because no matter what a religious organization does to "help" ease what ails the world... the problems wouldn't be there in the first place if religion didn't exist. Knowing this means that, NO... no I don't have to pay credit to any belief system based wholly on intangibles, lies and deceit if they should feed the poor that years of religious struggles have kept poor in the <i>first place</i>. And NO... no I don't have to give any credit to a bastardized, disorganized, poorly kept historical record system, still prevalent for the purpose of controlling people under the guise of "hope". Not when it has been a tool of war and the excuse to brutalize, torture and murder billions for centuries.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Nor do I have to give any of them credit for reinforcing "morals" that have NATURALLY evolved with modern civilization. It is not because of our belief in a deity that we've come to the realization that we ought to treat everyone as equals. We've done that IN THE FACE OF and IN SPITE OF religion, if we're to be honest. Everything in our history that involves the systematic and genocidal killing of human beings has been directly because of religious beliefs, and it was upon our own horror at our reflection that we choose to evolve. The more scientific knowledge we gain, the more intelligent we become, the less we fear and the more unified we become. </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22px;">If only we could let go of the need for an "afterlife" and something beyond simple mortality. We will die and it's ok. Unless we have achieved something of greatness, our memory will fade and that's ok, too. "Life", "Mankind", "Humanity"... we don't need an infinite number of people we have to remember... nor do future generations need to infinitely remember us. What lives on, and what should be a stride as one for all of humanity, is to teach the future that education, open minds, information, and healthy skepticism paired with a desire to never stop on the quest for truth IN ALL THINGS is the only way to purge ourselves of weakness and corruption. No religion teaches this! </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22px;">We need to start recognizing we have outgrown, as a specie, the need for our "fate" to be in the hands of anyone else, including a "God". We've outgrown the need to congregate to keep us unified in our beliefs... and to keep us from "straying" TO reality. Worship does not need to be the reason that we come together for human interaction. Science has proven to us that there are consequences for our poor lifestyle choices and we need only educate ourselves. Democratic government in a free society is there to enforce human rights and prevent infringement; Morality does not need to be legislated beyond that. Enough proof exists that we can free this world from the bondage of "pre-ordainment" and prejudice against biological differences. Credit only where credit is due, Mr. Kristof, is just the first step.</span></span></div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-16004795024727019862012-03-19T09:57:00.000-07:002012-03-19T11:56:22.868-07:00Emotional Propaganda: You're Not A Hero If You Save People By Lying<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I spent Saturday morning listening to<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://podcast.thisamericanlife.org/special/TAL_460_Retraction_Transcript.pdf">this
piece</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>on NPR's "This
American Life". The topic was the retraction of a story done in January by monologist <a href="http://mikedaisey.blogspot.com/">Mike Daisey</a> who on air, told a<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/454/transcript">fabricated experience</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>of his visit to one of the factories in China that makes<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://store.apple.com/us?afid=p219%7CGOUS&cid=AOS-US-KWG">Apple products</a>. As NPR reports,<span class="apple-converted-space"> <span style="color: #990000;">"</span></span><span style="color: #990000;">The piece essentially made Daisey Apple's chief critic
and it also inspired a <a href="http://www.change.org/petitions/apple-ceo-tim-cook-protect-workers-making-iphones-in-chinese-factories" style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Change.org petition</a> that collected more than 250,000
signatures demanding that Apple better the working conditions at the factories." </span><span class="apple-converted-space">Daisey also wrote a one man performance called "<a href="http://mikedaisey.com/Mike_Daisey_TATESJ_transcript.pdf">The Agony and The Ecstasy of Steve Jobs</a>", in which he includes the same fictional account of his trip.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It would seem that aside from actually going to China, actually meeting with a
interpreter who calls herself Kathy Lee, and actually visiting a real manufacturing plant
called Foxconn... the entire rest of the piece is completely
fabricated. The tale he tells about his visit state everything from
grossly under aged workers as young as 12, to disfigured employees
who became so due to untreated on the job accidents, to poisoned factory
workers who received permanent motor damage from electronic cleaning
solvent, to Foxconn its self being guarded by workers with guns to
keep people working and thieves from stealing products. It's
basically everything you've ever feared and imagined about the way communist
China allows businesses to treat their workers, realized... but untrue and created
to use you in this case.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">To me, this is the absolute WORST thing anyone could have done in an effort to
expose the problems within China's labor force. As<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/speakeasy/2012/03/17/the-agony-and-ecstasy-of-mike-daisey/?mod=google_news_blog">Jeff
Yang of The Wall Street Journal</a> puts it:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span style="color: #990000;">"The
story he’s telling is an important one. There’s a huge human cost to the
creation of cool devices. But by blurring fact and fiction, not on stage, but
on camera, in print and on air, Daisey has seriously compromised his ability to
act as a credible voice on this issue — and significantly hurt the cause of
labor organizers and advocates in China, who now face the possibility that all
of their claims will be treated with skepticism or dismissed, both by
authorities in China and potential supporters in the U.S." </span> Yes. 1000% THAT.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We saw this happen recently with the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4MnpzG5Sqc">Kony 2012</a> project, as well. The not for profit group <a href="http://www.invisiblechildren.com/">The Invisible Children</a> used highly emotional media that was not 100% factual and overly simplified in an effort to bring about awareness... and
in the end has probably hurt the cause more than it has helped it. Not to
mention it has stripped away the credibility of an organization who has arguably
done a lot of good up until now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Emotional manipulation seems to be the go to tactic for any cause who
wishes to convey what they do not have the evidence to sway you with; To
"liven up" and make entertaining for us what we might have otherwise
glossed over. <b><i><u>We have a responsibility TO KNOW AND
UNDERSTAND THIS.</u></i></b> We have a responsibility to
ourselves... but more importantly to our communities and to our country... to
wade through things that affect us emotionally and look at the issues with open
eyes and open minds. Regardless of what your gut instincts, faith and principles
are… if you are being lied to, to reinforce these core beliefs…you have a
responsibility to figure this out! And then
another to question and seek to reinforce your positions <i>with the truth</i> if they then remain your positions. <br />
<br />
Mike Daisey did just the opposite. When he discovered that the truth is Foxconn has been positively affected by Apple’s demands that they adhere to humane treatment of their employees, he lied. He lied because there are so many other manufacturing plants that do not. He lied in the name
of awareness. This cannot be permitted
or condoned no matter what the benefit as, there is no line that can be drawn to
keep the “wrong” from doing it too.<br />
<br />
What we take away from this in the wake of being lied to is the importance of knowing that no matter
which side you fall on in an issue, if you find yourself becoming emotional
there should be a bell going off in your head that warns you to gather all the
information before you proceed. Against
your instincts, even. We should be
actively seeking the truth at all times and in all things. What you know
as "truth" today... deserves to be questioned again tomorrow if it
deserves to be shared at all.<o:p></o:p>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-86986313791479168052012-03-16T11:19:00.000-07:002012-03-16T15:50:01.682-07:00Fearless Friday: If You Make Your Point Like This... Then You Have Told The World You Are Stupid.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/535069/thumbs/r-RENIG-BUMPER-STICKER-large570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/535069/thumbs/r-RENIG-BUMPER-STICKER-large570.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One of the top stories in my feed this morning was <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/15/racist-anti-obama-sticker_n_1349423.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009#s786253&title=Racist_AntiObama_Sticker"><span style="color: blue;">this.</span></a> I saw the above photo shared a few times yesterday and
apparently it's now been purported to have gone "viral".
(I take issue with the way that term is used so loosely now,
BTW… but sufficed to say it went big enough to have caught the eye of the
Huffington Post.) The article is about the sticker pictured in the photo and a
few other racist bumper stickers beginning to circulate pre-election.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here is the thing I am glad people
don’t (apparently) realize about making this type of statement out loud: Though you
will undoubtedly be offending your intended audience... you
lose the battle and instead help to further your opposition’s cause. Nice
going! <br />
<br />
Before applying a racist bumper sticker to your car in hopes it will cause people not to vote for Obama, here
are some questions to ask yourself: Why are you against wanting to re-elect President Obama? Is it because you
feel he has been ineffective? Are you upset about having a democratic president? Do you think he's unqualified to run the country? Are you vehemently opposed to his policies? Do you feel the state of the union is in peril because of the decisions he made while in office? Good. Great. Fantastic. These are all quality reasons to take issue with a POTUS. There are a great many people that would love for you to share your thoughts and will listen to the evidence you have that supports your opinion. If you are concise and present enough facts,
you may even sway enough people into joining your cause and successfully get someone else elected at the end of this year. Long live democracy!<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, though, if you hate President Obama predominantly because the man has a higher concentration of melanin in his skin cells than you do... then I am very sorry (for the rest of us) to report that you are <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/stupid"><span style="color: blue;">stupid</span></a>. President Obama... as well as you and I... have a great deal of control over many things in life... but the chemistry and make up
of our bodies is not one of them. Frankly, if we had the science needed to change things like this, then I am sure preventing "stupid", <a href="http://www.mixedracestudies.org/wordpress/?p=3397"><span style="color: blue;">or the lack of desire to seek knowledge and educate one's self</span></a>, would be a lot higher on the list than being able to change cellular pigment levels.<br />
<br />
Inferring that some one has any more or any less potential for achievement solely based on this uncontrollable physical trait not only discredits your argument, but it shows the world you possess a brain that is inferior. Perhaps due to the same uncontrollable genetics... but more than likely because you choose to be stupid. When intelligent people
determine your intelligence is inferior, than any case you make, no matter how
compelling, is discredited in their minds because you have demonstrated the
absence of the fundamental ability to determine what is a reasonable,
rational argument… and what is hateful, ignorant bullshit. THUS...
you will succeed in only FURTHERING that which you seek to change in the
opposite direction of your intention because your position is now associated
with "stupidity".<br />
<br />
To put it plainer: Racist bumper stickers ensure that your team LOSES.
You, and your fellow racists, are essentially traitors to your own cause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There is an art to debate and to getting people
to consider your point. The most important part is purpose. The
second most important part is method. What do you hope to achieve when
you argue your position? Are you hoping to change someone's mind?
Are you hoping to further awareness? Are you hoping to convince
people to agree with you in what you feel is right? Do you seek to expand
your position by collecting points from the opposition? Are you
curious as to how someone could feel differently than you do? Or do you
just enjoy the attention and validation of being listened to? There must
be a purpose. Otherwise, what is the point of even discussing anything?<br />
<br />
Then depending on what your purpose is, your goal will not be accomplished on
a significant level unless <u>the method</u> you use to
convey your positions is credible. Trying to discredit President Obama by
pointing out he is (obviously) black may gain you some chuckles and back slaps
from those close to you who share your views, but on a much broader level, the
backlash against people like you grows larger and stronger.
Congratulations, Stupid! All of the sudden people who weren't
interested yesterday in getting involved have become offended. When
someone is offended, they tend to react. In fact, if you piss someone
off enough, you are much more likely to get them <b><i>to react…</i></b> than
you would be at getting the people who adamantly agreed with you to do so.
<br />
<br />
Case in point: The Susan G. Komen/Planned Parenthood controversy. In
trying to further their anti-choice agenda by pulling funding from Planned
Parenthood for (very obviously) fabricated reasons, Nancy Brinker and Karen
Handle only succeeded in FURTHERING their opposition by awakening a large
group of people who were otherwise not particularly against them. Only a
small percentage of people will now fund or support the charity, even given
their reversal in policy. The Susan G. Komen Foundation has LOST
CREDIBILITY. They will never again reach an audience on the same levels
they previously had, thus anything they choose to promote or oppose will be disregarded
and dismissed as unimportant. They have lost the war for their team by wielding the weapon of ignorance.<br />
<br />
So really… carry on, stupid people! Carry on. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-1196956096483617412012-03-15T11:23:00.001-07:002012-03-15T11:24:17.762-07:00SFP3: Character Developement<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here is an example of
irony: When I was younger I use to sit around and make up lists of baby
names that I loved. Like to the point that it was probably very
unsettling to anyone who happened to come across one of my one million and five
notebooks. I could not wait to grow up and have a baby so that I could
name him or her. Now that I am <s>a grown up</s> older and I have two babies... I didn't end up getting to
choose either one of their names as they are both named after their
grandfathers. BTW, getting to name a baby? NOT that awesome. I’m glad I didn’t have babies just to name
them as I had down in the original plan for “adult life”.
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So really... all I have
left in life at this point is to become a writer because how else am I ever
going to get to pick a cool name to give to a human being unless it's in one of
my stories? If we were to get a pet at some point I am 1000% positive
anything I suggest will be out voted. If my boys end up procreating, I
have a strong suspicion their wife or partner will not be down with their MIL
naming their kid. This is pretty much the only avenue I have left.<br />
<br />
That being said, here I am at my MOMENT. <br />
<br />
I’ve thought about it a lot. I like the name
Beau for a female lead. Not too many girls are named Beau and it
certainly hasn't been used enough for anyone to have an image pre-conjured in
their head. I imagine her to be a fairly generic pretty woman. Not
beautiful... just pleasant looking. Not skinny, not fat, not perfectly
proportionate... just normal. I think she should be a brunette with blond
highlights and blue eyes. To give her depth maybe I'll give her crappy
skin, some stretch marks and slightly crooked teeth. Personality wise, I
think she should be witty, sarcastic and very pragmatic. I think she
should like making excel spreadsheets and organizing things. I’ll most
likely haver her work from home making things for an etsy shop and being a
"virtual assistant" for some local businesses. <br />
<br />
Where will she live: The South? The East? The Midwest?
The Pacific Coast? I would love to set her in the south because I
think it would provide ample opportunity to deal with the religious aspect of
the main ideas. The problem is what I know about the south, I've only
read in "The Help" or seen in "Forest Gump", right? I
don't remember too much about living in Texas except that I was an obvious
outcast and did not fit in at all... and that Texas’s idea of "Mexican
food" sucked. So maybe the Mid west then? Still ample
opportunity to deal with the religious theme. I have enough friends and
family members that have lived there all their lives that I could probably
either ascertain enough of the information or ask questions. OR... should
I write about what I know and set her in CA? Maybe on the central coast?
Hmmmm....<br />
<br />
Beau's Husband: I don't know his name yet (something normal though like
Tom or Tim or Peter) but I am 99.99999% sure he is going to be an
astrophysicist who considers himself an "Ancient Alien Theorist".
And let's just be upfront right now... I am going to 100% model him after
Bill. How could I not? Bill is the
perfect balance of everything… unless I am currently pissed at him. But that would be the point in modeling the husband
after him. He'll interact with Beau and
his kids the way Bill interacts with us. Physically he'll be a moderately
attractive dork.<br />
<br />
Beau's kids: How many? 2 or 3. Sexes? I don't have
girls, I only have boys... but I think there should be at least 1 daughter.
I'm thinking 2 boys and a girl with the girl being the oldest.
Ages? Names? ........ Maybe 8, 6 & 4? Tabitha or
Sadie or Alex (Lexy?) or (?)for the daughter. For the boys maybe I'll
make it easy and just name one after his father (He'll be TJ or PJ)... and the
other one can be Jake.<br />
<br />
Here is a pretty important thought: Where do astrophysicists even live?
Where (besides NASA) do they even work?
What do they even do all day for their job besides be awesome and
introduce themselves like, “Yes. Nice to
meet you. I am Peter and I rule at life
because I am Astrophysicist.” I don’t even know. Perhaps I begin here.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-54016912458002247022012-03-14T11:35:00.000-07:002012-03-15T11:24:40.435-07:00SFP2: The Method<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A day to mull over the main idea(s)... and another thing that strikes me as difficult is the method in which to deliver the story. In my mind, really good stories work in two ways: Either they are fantastical enough in the details that an entire alternate world is directly (or indirectly) created... and therefore free license is given to make anything true (Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Star Wars, Ect.)... OR the story is so realistic and the facts woven in are so accurate, that that the liberties taken in the fiction portion just SEEM realistic (The Da Vinci Code, The Color Purple, Forest Gump, ect.).<br /><br />I tend to favor the second method. I love when I read something that is "enlightening". I love when you get to walk away from something you knew a variable level of information on and you have something new to add. Even if the information is purely anecdotal, it gives you more perspective.<br /><br />One idea that I toss around a lot that encompasses BOTH is the story of a normal, every day woman who suddenly realizes she has the power to end the problems of the world, if for no other reason than she just gets sick of all of the tragedy on the she hears about in news. In my mind she would just hit some sort of breaking point in her mind and suddenly a flip would switch in her head and she'd rise up like some sort of "God"... and poof!... the wicked would be incinerated. Which would allow me to make a personal comment on social issues and what I think matters. I imagine the story then seguing into the after math of her rising up and cleansing the world of all "the bad people". What would the US be like? Africa? Asia? Remote areas of the world? What could happen if the entire world was a free democracy and we all competed on the same level? What kind of universal society would we be and what kind of social responsibilities would be on a WORLD WIDE level at that point?<br /><br />It's exciting and terrifying to me to sit down and write this. Why? Because though I have a very general idea of the way other countries are run (communist, democratic, monarch, ect.) and a very, very, VERY mild understanding of the conditions and economic level... I know nothing beyond what I occasionally read. The whole Kony frenzy really hit home as a primary example of how truly ignorant I am. I watched the video and was moved enough to post it and encourage others to watch it. I know NOTHING about Uganda, and I know I know nothing about Uganda. YET...Child slavery = emotion. Emotion = knee jerk reaction. Knee jerk reaction = unqualified judgement. Unqualified judgement = no research or attempt to seek truth. No research or truth sought = THE DARK SIDE. It paralyses me.<br /><br />So what do I do? Begin writing and when I want to make specific comments look up as much info as I can in hopes I will be depicting something intelligent? I'm overwhelmed. I wish I could take the pills that, that dude in the movie "Limitless" did if just for a weekend so that I could read about and 100% absorb the history and current state of the entire world. Then I'd have the story AND the way to save the world, right? LOL.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-54706150329020258702012-03-12T17:59:00.002-07:002012-03-15T11:25:09.082-07:00Story Formulation Part 1: The Point<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There are plenty of novels that have been written with little to no point. I want to have a point, though, and I feel this has complicated things a great deal. I admire authors that can weave a profound point into the tales they tell. For instance, the point of Star Wars is that you have to have balance between good and evil... but that in the end, good will prevail. The Lord of the Rings, I believe, symbolizes the Christian belief of the journey to Heaven and the perils and temptations along the way. To Kill a Mockingbird teaches us about the dangers of prejudice. Many lesser novels I love deal with discovering inner strength, finding truth and being human.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I want to write a story that clearly demonstrates the dangers of not critically thinking about everything, as well as the negative effects of stating your beliefs in things you do not really believe in because it's easy and comfortable. I want my the stories I tell to be so entertaining and clever that it isn't till the end that you realize I've had you agreeing with things you didn't even know you agreed with before. If I could write something that got even a handful of people thinking differently, I would consider it one of my greatest achievements.<br /><br />So... the point. The point is many things right now. Some possible ideas include:</span><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">
<li>Watching news that is designed to sway you a particular way exclusively.</li>
<li>Talking to and engaging only with people who share your views.</li>
<li>Living your life unaware of where the food you eat comes from and how it is processed.</li>
<li>Living life unaware of where 99.99% of everything you buy comes from and how it is manufactured and delivered to the shelf of your favorite big box store.</li>
<li><a href="http://worldnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/03/12/10658911-police-rescue-24000-women-children-from-chinese-human-trafficking-gangs?ocid=twitter">Living your life unaware of the absolutely horrific tragedies that befall millions of people every single day because they don't live in a country that has standards and democracy.</a></li>
<li>Saying you believe in God because of how many people you would disappointed in you if you asked questions.</li>
<li>Not caring to ask any questions about anything beyond what's for dinner.</li>
<li>Not recognizing the comfort of routine and what it say about you (not necessarily in a negative way.)</li>
<li>The perversion, nonacceptance and exploitation of sex and how it is woven into everything we do naturally no matter how hard we fight it.</li>
<li>How the fear of death and the biological need to survive have kept myth alive in the face of evidence for thousands... if not millions... of years.<br /><br />That's only 10 ideas. There are more. So many, many more. How do you make this interesting and exciting? Especially to the mass who is so exactly the embodiment of these problems and thinking points? What from the above list is THE MOST IMPORTANT of the main ideas? What change would have the most impact?</li>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-8794461689133740322012-03-11T11:33:00.005-07:002012-03-12T18:00:22.864-07:00If only I could just get it started...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 100%;">One of my New Years </span>resolutions is to finally sit down and write a story to entertain myself and possibly a select few people who would actually read a story I wrote. I want it to be a sort of female-y, Sci-Fi tale with some <span style="font-size: 100%;">political commentary woven in. I want it to also have a </span>relateable<span style="font-size: 100%;"> </span>heroin, a fair amount of adventure, a fair amount of humor and some kissing parts. I have some of it worked out in my head but here is what happens to me every time I am like, "Ok. Time to sit down and outline and then WRITE! Let's do this!":<br /><br />Step 1: Begin thinking about the awesome parts of the story you want to work in.<br />
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Step 2: Begin thinking about how unsure you are of some of the details and how to work up to those parts.</div>
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Step 3: Begin thinking about how you want to be extremely credible and accurate in your story telling.<br />Step 4: Begin to doubt what you know is enough to achieve this.</div>
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Step 5: Decide that the year is still young and get lost on Facebook instead.<br /><br /><br />It's now March. The year is starting to age...</div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-82722838368459351012011-07-17T07:00:00.000-07:002011-07-21T17:31:15.442-07:00Beth Howard, Warrior Princess of Power<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I should title this post simply: Public Service Announcement.<br /></span><br />I really considered it.<br /><br />HOWEVER, I am going to instead title it with the pat on the back that I earned for what I have just endured. If you are easily made ill or faint of heart, read at your own risk. I will not be liable for anything that happens to you as mouth is gaping open and your skin is crawling.<br /><br />Our story begins Friday July 15th, in the <a href="http://www.staterbros.com/">Stater Bros. Super Market</a> on 40th & Waterman. I picked Bill up from work and we then proceeded there to do this weekend's shopping In the back of my mind, I had been formulating how I was going to talk him into spending Saturday afternoon at Deep Creek in Cedar Glen with some of my girlfriend's from work and their children... INSTEAD of cleaning. Weird? No.. no. Not at all.<br /><br />You see this is a consistent issue between the Bill and I, as I have the ability to change direction at any time. Because I am like a ninja. A "plan's have changed... no problem" ninja. He is an old, old man of 41. He lacks spontaneity almost entirely. He likes order and routine and consistency. He enjoys "planning"very, very much. So much so that every single phone call we ever have includes the phrase, "So... what's you plan?". Sometimes I want to say, "Become the Speaker of the House, the Senate Majority Leader and the President of these United States. ALL AT THE SAME TIME." just to throw a wrench.<br /><br />(I won't say I digress; I'll just say: Enywayz. I'm from CA, after all.) When The Man comes home, he wants to come home to a spotless house, a wife who looks like she just stepped out of a 1955 Playboy magazine and dinner that could have come from a photo in Food and Wine Magazine. Then he wants to shower, put his feet up, gather his family around him, watch a movie, drink a <a href="http://www.stonebrew.com/ruin/">Stone Ruination</a> and reeeelaaaaxxxx.<br /><br />On Saturdays, he wants to get up... smoke a cigarette, drink about 27 cups of coffee, use the restroom, smoke a cigarette, make off color remark and/or smack my ass, open his BBQ Bible, pray, choose a recipe, smoke a cigarette, go to the expensive rip off store for 47 things he forgot at Stater Bros, smoke a cigarette, fill my children full of donut-y goodness and spawn insanity, spend the rest of the morning measuring and preparing, smoke a cigarette, turn on various History Channel programming OR Ice Road Truckers, take a nap, get up, smoke a cigarette, have 27 more cups coffee, use the restroom again, smoke a cigarette, make another off color remark and/or smack my ass, light the grill, crack a Ruination, smoke a cigarette, GRILL, smoke a cigarette, prepare side dishes, present dinner, eat, smoke a cigarette, choose a movie, watch movie, smoke a cigarette, send kids to bed... expect off color remarks and/or ass smacking to pay off and then sleep. There is very little exception to this, unless something has been in the works for several weeks, and even then I watch him struggle internally with reasons mayyyyybbbbbbeeee we should just stay home.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Alas, poor Bill. Every weekend he comes home to me. I would LOVE to look like a 1955 Playboy model. I would love to have a spotless house. I would love to have a dinner resembling something out of Food and Wine Magazine on the table for him, ready and waiting every Friday night. Really. I would. I'd also really like to bring about world peace, end hunger, empower women from every culture and cure AIDS and cancer. Unfortunately for Bill, these things are further up on the list. Also, I work at Hell, Inc. all week and do all the weekly child rearing myself. So housework? MWHAHAHA! I laugh at house work. Beyond the nightly dishes, 2 or 3 vacuuming stints and a load of laundry or two... if you expected more, I'd be happy to get you a gift. The gift of DISAPPOINTMENT. Act now and I'll throw in a free swift kick to the junk.<br /><br />POINT: More often than not The Man comes home to a messy house. Being the amazing guy he is, he just walks in, looks around, sighs, and without a word goes into the kitchen and makes dinner for all of us. Then he gets in the shower, gets his beer, gets his movie time in with the boys and smiles over at me like I mine as well be a 1955 Playboy model. This is now a very probable certainty to him, so he's added it to his routine and automatically plans to spend most of Saturday morning helping me undo to the house what has been done all week.<br /><br />He is an awesome man. We all know this. I won't go on and on. HOWEVER... you might possibly see, despite the awesome, how a girl who thrives on inconsistency and excitement can get kinda frustrated. And to be fair, vice versa.<br /><br />Let's return now to Stater Bros., 40th & Waterman. Work friend had invited us that very morning to attend an impromptu gathering at the local creek, which kind of doubles as our "river experience" around here. Sure to be a "sun soaking, beer drinking, young boys get to play and stay occupied, while the adults laugh and chat" heck of a time. I thought about that for about .000001 of a second before I decided that I'd rather do that, than clean. As we're walking the aisles of Staters, I can think of no other tactic than to just blurt out<br /><br />"I know you're going to need a little bit of time to think about this and get acclimated....BUT... IreallyreallyreallywanttogowithRachelandNikkiandbunchofother</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">peopledowntoDeepCreektomorrowandhangoutfortheafternoon!!! So we should probably just get sandwich stuff and snacks and drinks while we're here because we'll need it for tomorrow, right? I mean take minute and think about it. But please say yes! But take a minute... to think about it. And adjust. I know you need some time. It'll be so fun. I promise. I'll walk away now to get bread and chips and leave you to think. About saying, "Yes. I'd love to. Sounds super fun."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />Scowl. Stern look. Shifting of eyes. Rolling of eyes. Irritated sigh. Exasperated sigh. Starts to say, "You know..." Pauses. Irritated sigh. Exasperated sigh. "Why do you ALWAYS do this?"<br /><br />"Why do I always do what? Arrange for fun times? Strive for quality family bonding in "outing" form? Force you to make snap decisions so as to make you a better and more well rounded person?"<br /><br />"Deviate from the plan!!! We have a plan. You already told me the house is a mess. I told you I want to spend tomorrow CLEANING so that I can feel comfortable in my house and you don't bitch at me when I leave Sunday that I left it all for you to do."<br /><br />"Ok. How about this? How about I bust my ass tonight while you guys are eating and watching the movie and I get the house UBER SPECTACULAR clean. THEN... you live on the edge a little and commit to an activity you have had less than 72 hours to weight all the options, points and possibilities on. It'll be fun. I'll be YOU. And you... YOU get to be ME. Lucky you. I might try to stand and pee I'll get so caught up. First I'll make a plan, though."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Scowl. Stern look. Shifting of eyes. Rolling of eyes. Irritated sigh. Exasperated sigh. Growl of frustration. "FINE."<br /><br />So that was the "plan". I began "<a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-is-why-ill-never-be-adult.html">cleaning all the things</a>" immediately after we got home. I was on it. Dinner... made. Dishes.. done. Counters... spotless. Stove... sparkling. Table... wiped DOWN. Kitchen floor....<br /><br />.......<br /><br />"What the HELL?!? BILL!!! BILL! I think there is a maggot on our kitchen floor."<br /><br />"What?!? It's probably not a maggot. And if it is, it's probably because I had the door open earlier. Anyway, thank you for cleaning up. The house is looking good. I appreciate it. Come to bed soon."<br /><br />That literally happened. I said, I think there is a maggot in my home... and he literally brushed my concern off, took the boys upstairs, put them to bed and then went to bed himself.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I had no reaction to that at first. Until I realized there was not one maggot on my kitchen floor. There were about 20 of them when it was all said and done.<br /><br />Let's rewind for just a minute before we get into the next portion. Earlier when I said that my house was never going to be spotless by then end of the week, I meant it. I do feel the need to explain to you, though, that just because my house is not spotless... doesn't mean it's dirty. It's cluttered. It's got too much stuff and not enough places for it. It's got laundry piled up and toys on the floor. It's occasionally got toothpaste on the counter that needs to be wiped up. It's got dishes in the sink more often than not. It's got an entryway that needs to be swept. The boy's rooms always looks like a bomb exploded. Dusting should happen more often. I consider this be "normal". We aren't hoarders. Or the renters from hell that move in and never clean anything. If you showed up unannounced, I would be a little embarrassed, but I'd let you in. Don't do that, though.<br /><br />I would hope as I continue you, you would keep this in mind for the rest of the story. Beth Howard: Not super clean... but not a hoarder/non-cleaner.<br /><br />I am sure that you can imagine, as soon as I realized that Bill was WRONG... it was a maggot and that it had friends, I went directly to the laundry room and got out my favorite cleaning friend, Bleach. Bleach is my "go to" comfort cleaner. If I am questionable about the cleanliness of anything, Bleach it is. For the next 20 minutes, I hand scrubbed/sanitized the kitchen floor, counters, refrigerator door oven front and bottom cupboard doors. I was feeling better. Confused as to where the hell those things came from... but better. Just as I was about to sit down and think on that...<br /><br />"FUCK. You have got to be fucking KIDDING ME."<br /><br />To my credit I did not have a mental breakdown at this point. I looked at the carpet in my dinning room and noticed about 50 more maggots writhing around on my rug and did NOT lose my shit. I kept it together. Thank you... I know. I know. I simply moved the chairs into the kitchen, moved the table into the living room got out the steam cleaner and began to clean the hell out of the carpet and rug. WHERE ARE THE COMING FROM?!?<br /><br />Then it hit me. The trash. I hadn't taken the trash out since Sunday, as we really hadn't produced much during the week and the little bit we had, I didn't want to have to deal with picking up after the raccoons got into it. HOWEVER... what was in there was probably a few diapers and some dinner remains. I couldn't tell you for sure, though, because I grabbed the can and RAN to get it the hell out of my house.<br /><br />When I came back to my absolute HORROR... as cliche as that it... I looked down only to see 50 more take the place of the ones I had just steamed over. And it occurred to me that I was gonna have to move the rug and do this one thing at a time. Remember the cliched use of the word HORROR? What can we go with that's worse and more intense? Choose your own adjective. Insert it now. That is how I felt when I lifted the rug to find at least a hundred more of those fuckers underneath. Again to my credit, I didn't yet have my break down. I just went and got the vacuum and alternated between vacuum and steam cleaner.<br /><br />At some point I started crying, though I couldn't tell you exactly when. At some point I started drinking, though I couldn't tell you when that was either. After about an hour of going over the same area, one spot at a time, getting more and more of those nasty little things to crawl out... I went upstairs to my bedroom, flipped the light on and sobbed,<br /><br />"Bill... they're everywhere. I keep cleaning and they keep popping up."<br /><br />"What the hell are you talking about. Turn the light off!! I was asleep."<br /><br />"The maggots, Bill. They're in the dining room carpet and they just keep coming out."<br /><br />"I don't know what you are saying to me, but whatever it is, we'll deal with it tomorrow. Come to bed."<br /><br />I am sure I must have looked like a chick straight out of a horror movie, mascara running down my face, standing there babbling about "Attack of the Maggots". I don't know how I did it, but I did what he asked, and I got into bed and went right to sleep.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">The next morning, he got up and I bolted up with him, terrified as to what I would see when I went down stairs. It was as expected. There were maggots crawling on the dining room floor, as well as across the living room. Not as many as I had seen the night before... but enough to still make my skin crawl. I sat on the couch drinking coffee as Bill ran around with a paper towel, picking them up and putting them in a trash bag. There was no witty conversation.<br /><br />I looked up online to see how rare this was. Turns out, it isn't rare at all. Here comes the Public Service Announcement: The way you kill maggots in your carpet is with boiling water and bleach. We called and flaked on my friends for Deep Creek, and I spent the entire rest of the day boiling water, pouring it on the carpet, watching those little assholes crawl up out of the heat and die, spraying the area with bleach water and then sucking it all up in the steam cleaner. 2 bottles of bleach and an entire lake of water later, I believe they are gone. Just to be sure though, I am going to treat the entire carpet with Borax tonight after the boys go to bed and vacuum it up in the morning. You can also use flea powder, but it don't like the chemicals and Borax is way less toxic.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I did finally breakdown about halfway through the day, BTW. It came when Bill absentmindedly set the trash bag he was using for maggot cleanup on my kitchen table. I don't think I've actually ever hyperventilated before, but I am pretty sure that I did then. He forced a beer on me and made me take a break outside. This has been a longer story than I wanted it to be. It also is not nearly as humorous as I would have liked. End result is that I feel violated. It almost feels like we got robbed, to tell you the truth. Also, new rule: We no longer have a kitchen trash in the house. New bag every time we need to throw a lot of things a way at the same time OR we just walk ourselves outside and through single items away. I am thinking about doing the same with the bathroom trash.<br /><br />Tomorrow I'm going to arrange to get an estimate for new carpet. I'm still sitting here shuddering.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-18042693524966309942010-07-11T21:05:00.000-07:002010-07-12T09:54:48.438-07:00Paperwork<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Soooooooo...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I'm having a bit of a hard time here lately. Houston... there has been some heavy, hard core drama. Please abort mission. I repeat... ABORT MISSION... and head on back to home base. No need to discuss the issues with the public. Let's just maintain a low profile, take our licks and move on with life. Roger that, Houston. Over and Out. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I'm in need of a funny story. And luckily for you AND for me... I have one.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">And... I GUESS... I'll tell it. Geez. Twist my arm.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">When I was about 16 years old, my mom took me to the doctor for something. (I don't remember what. I'm 31 years old now... what do you want from me?) She checked me in and got my paperwork. Came over to where I was sitting and began to fill it out. And I was like, "WHA...? Mom. MOM. I'm 16. I think I can fill my <em>OWN</em> paperwork out. Thank you very much-ah. I've mastered the arts of READING and WRITING at this point. I attend, you know, SCHOOL. Also... I believe I know <em>ME</em>. Because I am... <em>ME</em>."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">She was amused. Teenagers are amusing, I have come to realize. Being that they know everything and all... but still make some of the most EPICALLY stupid mistakes ever. Which is so odd considering all of that knowledge. And wisdom. And advice they have for us older folk. Which ultimately guides them on their path to the spiritual awakening of "Holy Shit. I DON'T actually KNOW how to proceed. Mom? Dad? What would you do? And... can I borrow $100? Also... can you watch the baby on Friday?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Anyway... she handed me the clipboard with the paperwork. I felt so official as I began to check boxes. And write my FULL NAME and my SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER... (which I had to ask my mom for). When was my last period? WHY... YES. YES, I DO. GET THAT. THANK YOU. ADULT WOMAN HERE. Filling out her OWN paperwork. Tampon user now, EVEN. (Oh. Well. Ok. Apparently they don't need to know <em>that</em>.) </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Have I had any surgical procedures? YES. Yes I have.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">"Tonsil"... ahhh... </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">"Tonsel"... hmmm.... </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">"Tonsal".... welllll...</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">"Mom... how do you spell tonsillectomy?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Also... they need to know my insurance information. Ummmm... "Mom... what do I write here?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Now we're to the boxes of what illnesses I have and have not suffered from. Check yes or no.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Cancer</strong>?... pfffft. Easy... NO. Duh.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Hemorrhoids</strong>? (like for REALZ? *snicker* NO! Wait... wait. Maybe I should put YES. LMAO! Wait... she's looking. Forget it.)</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Heart Disease, including arteriosclerosis, angina, heart failure or history of heart attack </strong>? What am I... fat??!? 60??? Also... "angina"? Really?.... REALLY? BWHAHAHAHA!! (what is that?)</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>High Blood Pressure</strong>? How the hell would I know? Aren't they going to put that squeezy thing on me and LET ME KNOW? You're suppose to know these things before you go in?</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Blurred Vison</strong>? Yes. But if you think I am going to check YES so she can make me wear some dorky ass glasses you're insane.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><strong>Rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, or connective tissue disease?</strong> Uhhhhhh.... (what the hell is all THAT? I guess... NO. Is guessing allowed?)</span><br /><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><strong>Sickle Cell Anemia</strong>? Ummm... what if I have had all this crap? I've been sick a time or two in my younger days. But with WHAT? I don't remember. Can you catch this "anemia" business? And why does it make your "cells sick"? Is that any different from like, sick... sick? Why do they even need to know all this anyway? Forget it. I am just gonna put "NO" on everything else because I am not asking her, so she can be like, "Ohhhhhhhh... I thought you knew enough to fill out your <em>OWN</em> paperwork."</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">So I get done with everything and I could tell she wanted to spot check it. But I was like, "Nope. DENIED. I got this."... and went over and turned it into the receptionist.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">After awhile, the nurse came to the door and called my name. Mi Madre must have sensed that this day was some sort of milestone, so when they called my name, she kept reading her magazine and didn't look up. I was on my own, apparently. Heck YES! Finally. A little respect around here. A little recognition for my (inevitable) accomplishment of growing up. Thank you very MUCH-AH.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">The nurse did her nurse stuff. Height, weight, temp, blood pressure. Then she left me alone in the room informing me that "The Doctor has one patient ahead of you and then will be in shortly."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">While I waited I read Better Homes & Gardens. It's what all the "adults" read while they wait for their doctors.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">15 minutes later, the doctor knocked on the door and then entered. But it was all wrong, because it was a MALE doctor. WHOA. WHOA... now. Do they not know that on days when you have grown up enough to fill out your own paperwork and then do your whole "appointment" by yourself, you need to be assigned a same gender physician? How do they not know this? Didn't the receptionist notice me in all my adult glory, transforming before her very eyes as <em>I</em> took care of all of my <em>OWN</em> information? Uncomfortable this will be. Perhaps I should get my mom...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">BUT NO. NO I WILL NOT. Perseverance. That's adult and shit.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">He started asking me questions about whatever I was there for, as well as my medical history. Then he paused for a minute and said, "You've had Pertussis?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">????? </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">"Uhhhhhh... I don't think so. What is that?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">"Well it says right here on your paperwork you have had Whooping Cough. How old were you when you had Whooping Cough?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">"Oh! No. he he. I've never had "Whooping Cough", I guess. But I have had a "Whopping (big) Cough" before that made my throat hurt. You know... like a whopper of a cough. I thought that was the same thing."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">"Ohhhh... I see. You filled out your own paperwork today. Why don't we get your mother in here just to be on the safe side, then?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">DAMMIT.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-56073263411195316462010-07-09T00:13:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:37:24.428-07:00Fearless Friday: Tolerance, Seperation of Church & State, Organized Religion: One of these things is NOT like the other...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Did you know that there is a woman named Sharron Angle who is running for a U.S. Senate seat in the state of Nevada? Perhaps. (I know you're reading your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">FaceBook</span> page, not really listening to me.) Did you also know that she fancies herself a "tea party conservative"? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Hmmm</span>... really? (And thinking, "Stop talking. So I can read. See how that goes together?") And did you also know that she went on a nationally syndicated radio program (hosted by a conservative) and told the host that she did not support abortion even in the instance of rape and incest? No matter how old the girl is. (WHAT??!?) She said that in the case of a young girl being raped and becoming pregnant the girl should, "make lemonade out of lemons." (Thank you for your attention :) She also said that "It's God's will that the girl be raped." and "It’s easy to use rare situations such as the tragedies of rape and incest to skew the debate about the value of human life." Wow. Rare situations. Interesting.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">How do you feel about those "Muslims"? Do they make you mad? Flashes of the 9/11 travesty play through your head, right? You see them every once in awhile walking around with their heads covered. The women don't meet your gaze. Sometimes you see a Mosque and it makes your skin crawl to think about all that kneeling and facing East. Let me ask you something, though. Do you know what a "Muslim" is? Do you know what they <em>actually</em> believe in? (No.. really... do you KNOW? Because you researched it yourself?) Good. In that case you know that "Muslim" is not a race of people; it's the name for the followers of the Islamic religion. Which makes you smarter than probably 60% of the rest of America. Do you also know how Al <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Qaeda</span> relates to Islam? </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">A long, long time ago there was this guy who was sick and tired of watching people "buy" their redemption and so-called ticket to Heaven from the Catholic church. So on 10/31/1597 he nailed his theses proclaiming that "Salvation was a gift from God and that everyone was entitled to it", to the door of the All Saints' Church in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Wittenberg</span>, Germany. Back in that day they called him a radical, and then tried <em>AND</em> convicted him of heresy for his split from the Catholic way of thinking. You know what we call his followers? Lutherans. And MAN... are those some radical people. By the way can you tell a Lutheran from all the rest of the Christians we have? Or are you like me and you just kind of lump all of those kind of Christian religions together? Lutheran, Episcopalian, Methodist, Baptist, Pentecostal, Non-Denominational.... whatever. Of course Catholics stick out. So do Mormons. But otherwise... they're all just "Christians".</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Oh... did that offend you? Perhaps you have some sort of argument or difference you'd like to impart upon me? Good. No really. Good.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Because here is the thing: I am so very, very, VERY excited for you that you can spend any day of the week you choose, devoted to any religion of your choosing. In any amount of time you wish. In any form of prayer you desire. Believing in anything it is you want. Praying for whoever you think needs it. Giving any amount of money you see fit. Providing selfless acts of service to those who request your help, in the name of whatever D<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">eity</span> you wish to give the credit to. And sharing your beliefs with anyone who wants to sit and listen to you share your testimony. I say this with not an ounce of sarcasm, and with complete and utter sincerity. GOD BLESS AMERICA.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Because I am also <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">eXtremely</span> excited to impart that same right among the Muslims of this country. Who would say "ALLAH BLESS AMERICA." It SICKENS me to watch political and personal rhetoric that preaches against allowing non-Christian Judea faiths of this country build places of worship. It OFFENDS me to hear people who fancy themselves AMERICANS speak out against allowing "weird" or "different" people practice what they believe in, as long as it follows the laws of not infringing on the rights of others. I know that Al <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Qaeda</span> came here, played us for fools and dealt us a low, horrible blow. Al <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Qaeda</span> is NOT a recognized Islamic branch among the Muslims. They are essentially what David <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Koresh</span> and the Branch <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Davidian</span> was to the rest of the organized Christian world. EXTREMISTS. Please tell me that it isn't right for me to look at you as a Christian and hate you because David <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Koresh</span> brain washed and abused hundreds of people. Please.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Going back, though, to my original news story about Ms. Angle, who feels it right to interject her Christian views into my legislator: Could you imagine if instead of Ms. Angle, you were hearing Mr. Muhammad Jinnah tell you what he thought was morally right and how that should influence the laws that govern the two of us? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Ohhhhhhhh</span>... did you just bristle a bit? :) Muslim influence over our law making? I saw your facial expressions change. Beth Howard... she pays attention to the body language. (wink, wink). It's NOT COOL, right? Good. I am glad we agree. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">STOP.SUPPORTING.CANDIDATES.WHO.INSERT.THEIR.</span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">PERSONAL.RELIGIOUS.VIEWS.INTO.THE.GOVERNMENT.</span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">OF.AMERICA.</span></strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">We are constitutionally obligated to remain judicially separated from our churches when it comes to our state and national legislature. And THANK GOD. Thank GOD for that. Or... thank the dead, Founding Fathers if you so choose. If you're a Christian... I am sure you can recognize that it would have been nice for old Martin Luther to be able to preach what he wanted to preach; write what he wanted to write; share what he wanted to share with no interference from the government at the time, right? And I am hoping you realize that the "government" was the Catholic Church. If you feel that way, you should also feel that it is important for all other faiths to be free to worship in their own manner of choosing, so long as they don't infringe upon anyone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">else's</span> rights. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Above all else, though, you should be happy to have laws that don't include either religious view in our governing.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-51515691082398080862010-07-08T11:08:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:41:17.808-07:00The Iraqi Effect<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">This is for The Man who this morning, very matter-o-factly, told me many stories of the extremely high rate of un-happily married and divorced men in Iraq. My ultimate plan is to spend the rest of my life with him taunting me, smacking my ass and trying to boss me around, so a little 10,000 mile distance doesn't bother me. Besides, I've played out the scene 1,000 times where I am holding his hand in the hospital bed <span style="font-size:130%;">WHILE HE IS DYING OF EMPHYSEMA OR LUNG CANCER BECAUSE HE WON'T QUIT SMOKING</span>... and all the romance and mellow drama I long for finally comes spewing forth from his lips, Jason Mraz style. I have to wait around until at least then, right? Otherwise, all my time invested has been wasted and that would just piss me off. Enough so that I would stay out of spite. So really... message to my husband: You couldn't get rid of me if you tried. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491603689480166418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5YLitryNLTQD5Pmh-y4bqG6WMEwJfePKLOPKa89-RodasFsrS0Y7X0rWcw1l_6exOPs4LaPMcQBfwsnMWc6NdX1433vjP0PHgqqQpEUizJTQzyg-VWUv5kG0e9a_QuTIynviXLr-cT0/s400/flair.jpg" border="0" />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-64292431627403598712010-07-07T21:12:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:41:17.809-07:0031 Years of Wisdom<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">So besides the proper lubricant for leg shaving, these are some other things I have learned over my small time on planet Earth.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">*<em>People Do, In Fact, Change</em>. This is not true for everyone, obviously... but it is true. I, myself, do not own special x-ray goggles to be able to look into the hearts and minds of people to see whether or not they are "faith" or "hope" worthy... so I just try to keep an open mind and support everyone who seeks change for the better. If you own the special x-ray glasses, I encourage you to patent them and distribute them. I'll keep the faith and have hope you change your selfish ways. </span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><em>*Cold Beer Goes The Best With Hot Pizza AND/OR A Hot Guy.</em> If you need for me to elaborate on this, I can only encourage you to go out and get yourself a 6-pack and try both side dishes for yourself. Get back to me on your favorite.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><em>*Pop Music DOES Have A Purpose. </em>I realize that you may not like it... but it can be a good thing. Women dance together when drunk to pop music. This is a fact. Also... it will unite you with the people who are your age by evoking memories of teenage tomfoolery. The lyrics are easy to memorize. If you're of Caucasian descent, you may have a chance at keeping a beat. It is not the deepest or most meaningful of music, but like a movie or TV show you can zone out to... it is a necessity sometimes.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><em>*There Is Nothing Better Than A Summer BBQ With People You Like. </em>Notice I did not say "your family". This is because, in case you don't agree with me because you've only ever had <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BBQ's</span> with your family... and you don't like them much... you would get my subtly hidden message to throw a secret BBQ with only people you like. You'll find it profoundly changes things.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><em>*Hold Onto People You Love. </em>I cannot stress this enough. If you loved someone at any point in time, they are worth figuring out a way to hold onto. (The exception to this, I suppose, is people whom you have loved but have abused you. This I leave up to you... but I encourage closure and a way for the good to prevail if it can.) <strong>You never, ever know when you will be at their funeral, devastated that you will NEVER be able to tell them how much they meant to you.</strong> Of course we can't always like everyone; nor are we obligated to spend time with people who irritate us when time is actually "spent" together. If you love someone, though, don't let them fall away into the abyss. Keep tabs on them, if only at a distance... and make sure that they know how you feel about them on at least a bi-annual bases. And for goodness sakes!!! If you have a old best friend/old boyfriend/old "other" someone special who you did actually enjoy but grew apart from and lost contact... LOOK THEM UP!!! Tell them how much they meant to you. DO THIS. I command you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><em>*Your Parent's Political Views Are As Subjective As The Rest Of The Population's. </em>I think I almost fell over the day this dawned on me. But it doesn't actually compare to the day I really did fall over when I realized I was watching the news. By choice. And paying attention. Because it was INTERESTING.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><em>*Children Are Freaking GROSS. </em>That's right. I said it. They come into this world in a painful plethora of "gross-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ness</span>". They then proceed to continue this grossness to varying degrees as they age. They can be cute. They can be sweet. They can invoke emotions like pride and unconditional love. BUT... my friends... this is all their coy way of making up for the fact that they will puke on you. They will spit on you. They will urinate and defecate and infect you with germs and viruses. They will make the biggest and most disgusting messes you have EVER SEEN IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE. And then smile at you like, "What? Just clean it up." No one tells you this. I am telling you this. You're welcome.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><em>*Who You Think You Are Now Will Change. Evolve. AND... Get Better. </em>And I am excited about that for you and for me. Take it from a little meek, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">mousy</span> blond wall flower who didn't even find her voice until about age 24. Also... do yourself a favor: You know that mistake you made yesterday/last week/last month that has been haunting you? Forgive yourself. Don't do it again. Learn to spot others who are in your same plight and help them by listening, and then speaking when asked. Sit quietly sometimes and don't be a mother or a wife or a sister or a daughter or a friend (or... you know... the male counterparts to that). Be yourself. Who is that? How will you know unless you spend some time learning about you (?) Also... try not to make absolutes. When I think back to who I was when I was 21... compared to who I am now... It is MIND BOGGLING the amount of growth and change. As well as the change in the needs, wants and desires. Don't ever sell yourself short by making up your mind for or against something you haven't experienced yourself.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><em>*Educate yourself. As MUCH as humanly possible.</em> Please do this. And please don't ever rely on just one person's opinion. I beg you. Probably the single greatest thing we can all do for humanity is do our own research. On EVERYTHING.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ok</span>. The End. :)</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-56347079531398075742010-07-04T22:58:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:57:26.459-07:00A Hard 4th<span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Bill and I have never spent a 4th of July apart since we met in 2004. Today was hard.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">It got me thinking about what matters in my life. And what I would do if my life was to become different. If some how my life no longer included him.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I don't mean to bring you down. Truly. Meh. Maybe you should skip this post. I'll let you know when I bring back the funny. :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I miss him. I miss life when he was here every day. I miss his smell and his touch and his habits, good and bad. I'm angry with myself for making some less than desirable decisions while he's been away out of weakness. If my life changed and I was forever without him, I would never marry or be in a committed relationship again. I can say that with about 99.9999% certainty. I don't think I could ever look at anyone again and say, "Yep. Bring on the Heaven and The Hell! Let's do this." Why??? For what??? The amount of effort Bill and I have put into our relationship and into understanding each other is too great and to think about all of that all over again... Oy. No. Never again.</span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I'm so tired of this. I just want him home for good. I want him safe and sound, unharmed, un-scared. I want him back home messing up the kitchen, hogging up the bed and hoarding the remote. I want to kiss him whenever I feel like it. I want to see him speak instead of envisioning him in his tent room as I cling to the only thing I have on a constant basis: The sound of his voice. I don't think any of this has been worth it. At all.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-27381729073105813912010-07-03T07:45:00.001-07:002010-07-11T23:02:38.782-07:00Happy Birthday America!<span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">The 4th of July is... and always has been... one of my most favorite holidays. How does it get any better than sunshine, BBQing, drinking beer, hanging out with friends and then free night time entertainment? Also... it IS the prelude to my birthday, bitches!!! :) God planned it that way because he loves me. And you. So He gave you and I a day between the 4th and the birthday of Beth to rest up and recharge. A day for ibuprofen and electrolytes. He would have put that in The Bible, but He thought it might give too much away and rob Dr. Adams and the Boots Pure Drug Company of their glory. Don't forget to say "thank you" tonight when you pray. Also... America's fireworks tradition was, in fact, started in the year 1979, right? To signify the coming of Beth. That is what my mom told me so don't go getting all "hater" just because you don't have fireworks every year on YOUR pre-birthday holiday.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Speaking of people, as well as things, that are fabulous: Freedom... isn't it awesome? All kidding aside, I am so grateful to live in a country where I am allowed to feign arrogance and poke fun at religion. And politics. And children. I love being an American, and regardless of our flaws and faults... and occasional bad decisions to elect religious right conservatives to office... I love us. We keep changing and trying to become better, and even though there are those who try to ignorantly impede the process... you can find a lot of them on Fox News if you're curious... it is inevitable. As a birthday present to me, I implore you to constantly strive to remain educated. Seek out that which you don't understand and find truth. We, of the right to an education citizenry, are a great people. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Group hug.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjj9549HcOmkkoNDWP-yp7ekHGI12OWL2Gxz6TWedHjPjyRIpBzZJcrbB9IH74HbwU2XindGHTktgcISaA5j3vQzAaB1S34FnOoYe6xNmlzTXRnuOjf1A53fr1g_z9VlMxEWQafxC1Li8/s1600/group+hug.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489702679271522882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 252px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjj9549HcOmkkoNDWP-yp7ekHGI12OWL2Gxz6TWedHjPjyRIpBzZJcrbB9IH74HbwU2XindGHTktgcISaA5j3vQzAaB1S34FnOoYe6xNmlzTXRnuOjf1A53fr1g_z9VlMxEWQafxC1Li8/s400/group+hug.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-62044717811528822010-07-02T23:05:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:36:56.931-07:00Fearless Friday: Feminism<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I bet you think you know where I stand on this one, don't you? :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">No. No... you don't. <---- That, perhaps, will entice you to read this post. Just think of it as a little Kim Kardashian salad ad, if not. Come on... you know you want to try that damn salad. :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">This morning my husband and I went over our budget, and he was the Alpha and I was the Beta. This is a bit new for us. I have always been the Alpha. I am not too proud to say that in the past 4 months he's been gone... I have not excelled at "budgeting". There were a lot of those "Right Turn Only" signs that I just decided were warnings and not laws. Metaphorically. I confessed my affairs with Target and Kohl's to him, head hung down in shame, and then after a few stern glaces and some not so happy words, he got over it. Mostly because he loves me and is a wonderful man. But also, probably because I added "Why don't you take over the budget? Give me an allowance. I think that will work out a lot better."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The minute these words left my lips, I cringed inside. I felt like I wanted to jump outside of myself and bitch slap me. "WHAT are you thinking? Give you AN ALLOWANCE? What is this... the 50's? What if you NEED to do something and he doesn't give you permission? Or worse... what if there is a sale... like the SALE of a century... and he says, "NO."???" Oy. OY. OY!!!! I could feel it slipping... the Control. I do NOT deal with that well. I had to just maintain so as to keep from hyperventilating. (Did YOU just SAY THAT? Out LOUD? Stupid, stupid girl.) I probably poured myself a drink... or 5. And then moved on from the door I just closed on my foot.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Still, this morning has left me all warm and fuzzy despite the broken metatarsals and phalanges. Let's tread into this a bit, shall we? Maybe we'll come out on the other side with the same feelings.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#660000;"><span style="color:#660000;">I want to tell you a story, but I am going to purposely leave out some details. You will have to just get over that part, OK? Thank you. I appreciate it. When I was about 11 years old I witnessed something that would shape my life like few other events ever have. I witnessed a husband go into his kitchen and attempt to get into a drawer where his wife stored her utensils for cooking. She was an amazing cook, as well as an amazing mother, so she made her children empty the </span></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#660000;"><span style="color:#660000;">dishawasher and put these "tools" away. This way, her children would learn responsibility. However, these children were like any other children when it came to their chores. They often stuffed things into the wrong place for the sake of time, and tried to short cut organization so that they could go out and be young and play.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#660000;"><span style="color:#660000;"></span></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#660000;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">On this particular day, apparently, the husband (whom you most certainly may classify as "selfish" and a bit "misogynistic"... go forth. With my blessings.) had, had enough of these unruly children. He also had, had enough of his wife allowing them to be lazy, normal children. He pulled, and pulled and pulled on the drawer until the face plate came apart and the utensils spilled all over the floor. Then in a rage, he gathered up the hundreds and hundreds of dollars, and years and years worth of collecting that the wife had invested in her "tools"... and he went out to the garage, grabbed a trash can... and threw them in. The wife, who had been in the back of the house, heard the commotion and she came rushing to see what was a matter. When she saw what he was doing, she began to sob, "Please. PLEASE. PLEASE STOP. Don't throw away my things... my tools. Please don't do this." And then she got onto her knees.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">And as I watched this from a corner of the room... I can tell you that a fire began to burn inside of me. Had I not been a scrawny, scared, 11 year old girl, I would have taken a trash can... gone into the garage... and began to throw his "tools"... his wrenches, his screwdrivers, his nut drivers, his power tools... EVERYTHING... into a trash can. And had I been a full grown adult man on top of it, I would have hit him in the face and knocked that motherfucker OUT. I don't think I have words to describe to you what it felt like to watch that. I will say, for the sake of the story, that her sobbing eventually softened him... and he shoved the trash can at her and walked away. Leaving her to dig her things out, and rewash them, and put them away.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">My feelings about equality run DEEP. I once got into a fight with my ex husband because he threw my outdated TV guide away before I was done with the crossword puzzle in the back. He didn't ASK me if I needed it. I shit you not. Not proud of it... but it is what it is.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">So let's take a breath. I took you to a dark place. Let's take another breath. Back to Bill.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">This morning he called and wanted to know what the bills for this up coming month were. I informed him of all that needed to be paid. He then proceeded to take a stern tone while he calculated in his head what needed to be done, and then rationed out the remaining. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. And do you remember in Avatar when Neytiri stood over a wounded Jake Sully and hissed like a mountain lion? That was me this morning over my control. IMMEDIATELY... I was on the defensive. "Breeeeeeeath." I remembered that I brought this on myself through my irresponsibility... and I calmed down. I just listened.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">His plan made sense. He is the logical one after all... and I am the emotional one who will spend in a fit of depression to feel better. There ends up being nothing in this whole equation that is anti-feminist. ??? WHA-WHAT? But I am NOT the BOSS. (?) I have NO argument to shift the control back(?) And even worse... I am letting HIM boss ME around (?) How can this be? Are you for REALZ on this, Beth Howard?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Yes. Yes, I am. For you see, I have decided that when you find the right man... you need not worry so much anymore about exerting your feminist defense. Good for you for having that hard core, platinum shield of "I am WOMAN! Treat me RIGHT!" up at all times. You need it. Until you find HIM. When you find him, you'll also find that he doesn't mind so much the shield... as he does the fact that you're not listening to him tell you that he WANTS you to make decisions. That he LIKES the ones you make. As long as they go along with the plan you BOTH have created.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">And isn't/wouldn't it be the most intensely gratifying thing to know that he is standing up to YOU so that YOU choose to follow the path your feminism laid out in the first place? I can assure you... it is.</span></span><br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#660000;"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-75912165986974590732010-06-30T19:51:00.001-07:002010-07-11T22:40:16.216-07:00This was kind of a FAIL. Oh Well. :)<img style="VISIBILITY: hidden; WIDTH: 0px; HEIGHT: 0px" height="0" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTI3Nzk1MjU2NDQ1MyZwdD*xMjc3OTUyNjU4MDAwJnA9Mzg2MzYxJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlciZnPTEmbz1hM2VmOWU*YWIyZjA*/MTBmOTRlNjAyZThkYzgxOWNkZCZvZj*w.gif" width="0" border="0" /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I can't get this any bigger and it's driving me nuts. If you go down to the bottom of your screen where it says 100%, you can zoom into 150% and see it better. Sorry. Anyway... here it is... my first original cartoon about my life as a psuedo single mom. </span><a href="http://s515.photobucket.com/albums/t358/usthreebs/?action=view&current=bath4-1.jpg" target="_blank"><p align="center"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i515.photobucket.com/albums/t358/usthreebs/bath4-1.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><blockquote></blockquote>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-60266762669438241772010-06-28T21:54:00.001-07:002010-07-11T22:57:56.521-07:00Frustration<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">SO.VERY.FRUSTRATED.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">The one thing that frustrates me more than anything else on the face of the planet is being told that I agreed to something in a conversation that I didn't. Why does this frustrate me so much? I am sure one would assume with a memory like mine this could happen. It's probable. It's feasible. It's probably even HAS happened a time or two. I guess because when I actually do remember the conversation that you're referring to... it's not that I agreed to something and then did the opposite. It's more like you probably told me how you felt about something... and then I choose to not argue and let you say your peace. That is not agreement. That is called listening.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">More than likely, when it is a man that is at odds with me over this... what I was actually doing is allowing you to just vent. My feminine ears sensed what they thought was the need for a good "letting out of emotion." I thought about telling you to just "talk it out"... "just let it out"... I'm here for you. But then I was like, "Holy SHIT! He's venting. I spend half my life wondering what the hell he's thinking... and here it is! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">YAY</span>! Feelings! He's letting me in! I'm in baby... I'm IN!" My heart is swelling. So I'm all wrapped up in your walls coming down... and wondering if I should pat your knee... or get you a bowl of ice cream. I am LISTENING to you. You're sharing your feelings with me. I'm mentally cataloging what your wearing right now so that I might keep this for later. AND NOW I am envisioning us on the beach together, the waves crashing as we're discussing the deepest depths of our souls, and how we feel about our mothers, and our biggest dreams... </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I guess I just don't make the connection that you're not venting.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">You're being a man. And instead... you're telling me what I need to do, how I need to do it and why it needs to be done. And now that it comes across THAT way... get your own fucking ice cream. And you can pat your own knee.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-2285663090694564522010-06-27T19:51:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:39:21.920-07:00Editioral Note From My Mommy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCspVA3FNyhii0Bej3dt7U_IhjEKIRrfdSCMPEJmFu25pdyaqg5wYhYa1aGwrh_Wx7Y-4FFDrufARnY0qXzcxjuyH3cDsE_sAesBQhP6nK-sx5-wcX_o01QO44_1CPBz0MGTo_mUJm2V0/s1600/mom2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487660758846032674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCspVA3FNyhii0Bej3dt7U_IhjEKIRrfdSCMPEJmFu25pdyaqg5wYhYa1aGwrh_Wx7Y-4FFDrufARnY0qXzcxjuyH3cDsE_sAesBQhP6nK-sx5-wcX_o01QO44_1CPBz0MGTo_mUJm2V0/s400/mom2.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Best part of my day, for sure. :)</span> <div><div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">In case you can't read it, this is what it says: <span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000000;">My dearest Beth. This is hilarious. Your memmory and mine differ only slightly. </span></span></div><div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"><br />First of all I need to correct your word for claiming other people's horses. The word is "Dibs" (unless of course an evolution took place between your generation and mine, which could have happened while I wasn't looking out your father's window) This form of competion was entertainment while riding in a car when I was little. As long as it was done in a calm and happy way. And looking out all the vehicle windows was allowed to acomplish a win. Somewhere along the line you children changed the rules. I am not sure who did this terrible thing.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"><br />Second, I always knew Richie would be bigger and taller than you girls. Image your disbelief when he finally got big enough to fight back and win. Aren't you glad that your father and I believe that it is wrong for a boy to hit a girl??????</span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"></span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"><br />Just some thoughts from Mom. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-39987773109348623482010-06-25T06:15:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:36:56.931-07:00Fearless Friday: Gay Marriage<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I've noticed that a lot of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bloggers</span> do something called "Wordless Wednesday". So I've decided to make up my own alliterative clever... and do "Fearless Friday". Instead of whining or patting myself on the back about my life, this will be my day to choose something controversial to ramble on about. Mostly just to amuse myself... but also to release some aggression.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">So here goes, right? :) Today's topic: "Gay-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ness</span>."... "Lesbian-ism" and even..."Homosexuality". As well as their right to shack up together after preforming a ceremony uniting them in the eyes of the law as two people who have entered into a business arrangement to file taxes together and be financially responsible for one another. You know... romance.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Why in the Heavens would I choose this one right off the bat?!?!? I mean... the gulf is gushing oil... the state of Texas has lost it's damn mind... and everyone is about to kill each other over whether or not we're turning communist. (Or is it socialist? Or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">marxist</span>? And what do those all REALLY mean anyway... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">hmmm</span>... :)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Well... here it is. My "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">opinionist</span>-ism".</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Number one thing on my list of grievances: Does the "Religious Right" realize that in nature... species go homosexual when there are too many males and not enough females? This is a scientifically proven fact. This "against nature" (not to mention, their very own Creator's great plan) homosexuality in animals who want to get laid... but lack the resources. I'm wondering about that particular Bible passage where God smite the homosexual animals of Sodom and Gomorrah. Perhaps one will find it in "Songs of Solomon" where it's cool for grown men to have sex with little girls and relatives? Let me know.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Punto</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">número</span> dos: "Sanctity of Marriage". When I consider what is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">sacred</span> within marriage, I think that it is pretty much outlined by our rights within the constitution as free individuals and between two <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">consenting</span> adults. In other words, what Bill and I find <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">sacred</span> between us is really none of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">anyone's</span> damn business, as long as we're both in agreement. What does happen to be the most "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">sacred</span>" within the confines of our agreement with the State of California and the Federal Government to report our income as one unit? A sense of humor. Which I doubt very much is unique to a heterosexual relationship... or in The Bible.</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">What I do realize, however, is that it <strong>IS</strong> really, really universally important when children are involved... that people hold their <em>responsibility as parents <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">sacred</span></em> after creating them. For this... I actually applaud a few of the "Christian" based religions on their ways for ensuring that when two of their committed people create another life... they stay together. Fear of "Damnation" to be sure that a kid has at least two people to go to with problems... I'm for it, if that's what it takes. I'm not at all down on single parents or people who leave abusive/totally dysfunctional relationships. One needs to do in this life the best they can with what they got. Plenty of very good and well adjusted people come from single parent families. Statistically speaking, however, children with two parents are overall more well adjusted. </span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></span><br /><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And let us talk statistics for a moment-o... shall we? The current heterosexual divorce rate is over 50%. Does anyone want to venture the guess for just the "split up" ratio of a couple that is gay or lesbian ... and adopts? :) Less than 15%. Probably due to the effort involved for a committed pair of same sex people... who obviously cannot just have sex and "accidentally" conceive another human to raise... but instead have to go through a myriad of paper work... and visits... and testimony by others... (which is all normal)... but then... scrutiny of others who fear they want to abuse/molest/enslave these children. So let me ask you something, if I may: Given the amount of effort it takes to adopt a child if you are gay or lesbian... can we all just agree there probably is no "Damnation"? In conjunction with the amount of heterosexual couples who do, in fact, make children they adopt all about abuse? Can we just agree that the selfless act of individuals raising a child who screams "I hate you!!!" when you give them Honey Nut Cheerios instead of Coco Pops... and then can still find it in their hearts to celebrate every accomplishment and wipe every tear... deserves your support?? Seriously. There should be "Sainthood" given for it. That completely normal... and completely defiant child DID NOT COME FROM THEIR WOMB. (Or... you know... Testes.) Most of the time, there was no "baby bonding period." God called... He agrees with me and decided many years ago (when He created us the way we are) that there is a special place for all who adopt. And they all get the same tax breaks in Heaven for it. Sorry to disappoint.</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Further more, on the point of "sanctity"... what exactly is to be preserved? I cannot for the life of me see what it is that is better or holier or superior in regards to your every day man and woman "marriage" vs. your lesbian neighbors and their "relationship". Speaking from experience... which is really all we have right?... I married young. It didn't work. We split up and I found a new, happier life. We had no children, which I (personally) feel is the one reason you should always think twice when you're unhappy. You're children deserve for you two to try your utmost to make it work, at the very LEAST. In my case, though... we were young and inexperienced and free. So we left each other and attempted again in life to find what would make us happy. Why is the divorce that I filed for not any big thing and pretty much just accepted as the way it is now days... but when it comes to granting Gay and Lesbians the right to join forces... well, shit. We can't do that. They'll be marrying each other left and right and then filing for divorce in no time. It will be a free for all... these "gays" running out... getting married... divorcing. Mass hysteria. Cats and dogs, living together...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">So seriously... what are we "preserving" with all our argument of "sanctity"? Good luck on that answer, my friend. Because you know what it is we're <em>actually</em> preserving? Our inclination as human beings to look down on others and discriminate. That's all it is. When you were little, you did that. You choose your elementary school friends based on who you felt comfortable with. You played together on the playground and traded lunch and other various treasures with them. You sat next to them. And the weird kids who either smelled funny, looked funny or acted different from you... you stayed away from. If your personality is to lash out at the different... you bullied them. If you're a non-confrontational... you either ignored them or you faked kindness when <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">necessary</span>, and hurried back to your group. Whatever your style... you choose your friends, hung with them and could only wonder what it is that others did when they were together hanging out.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Know what they were doing? Playing together and trading lunches and other various treasures, same as you. Probably just different games, food and stuff is all. And that is ALL this really boils down to. We <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">elitist</span> "heterosexuals" with our finger on the pulse of what it is that makes a marriage work... with our 50%+ divorce "grading curve", of course... we don't know what those "gays" do when they're all "married"... and shit. We know they're having all that "gay sex"... (which of course upsets the majority of us because of our own <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">occasional</span> (or constant) same sex attractions)... but other than the insanely wild gay <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">sexfest</span> we can't stop thinking about, we're at a loss. What are they doing??!? What are they doing over there, in that extremely stylish condo, being all "married"?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">We'll... since I know a lot of "the gays" personally... I'll tell you. I'll TOTALLY let you in... and perhaps I'll win some kind of peacekeeping award, because I promise you'll feel better. Come close.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Know what they're doing over there? Making breakfast. Using the restroom. Complaining back and forth to one another about the little annoying <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">habits</span> that they both have. Discussing family/friend/co-worker/<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">acquaintance</span> gossip. Hurting when one says something unkind to the other one. Worrying about their jobs/bills/mortgages/kids/sick parents. Flipping through 500+ channels and being irritated that nothing is on. Lying awake in the bedroom wondering why their spouse is out watching TV instead of coming to bed. Dreaming about accomplishing goals. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">BBQing</span> and drinking Corona with lime on a hot day. I know this all may sound a little "foreign". Hard to imagine, even. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">I will tell you one thing, though. Their condo is sure to be a LOT swankier than yours. So I actually propose that instead of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">publicly</span> making an ass out of yourself... not to mention looking completely ignorant and hateful... you <em>instead </em>take a baby step today and make gay and lesbians your "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">frenemies</span>". Let's go ahead and get over our discrimination and wanting for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">un</span>-equality, circa <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">pre</span>-1954. Let's instead do what any good hearted, yet jealous, person would do... and allow an even playing field. It makes sitting around and gossiping much, much more fun. :)</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-18160841539907693412010-06-24T12:54:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:58:20.823-07:00I Guess I'll Share My Feelings. It's My Damn Blog.<span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Sooooo</span>... Bill broke my heart this morning by getting on me about something he's upset about. It's always amazing to me that I can go from "happy/content" to "pond scum" in about 60 seconds with him. We're trying to work on this... but it's hard. He sometimes hurts my feelings because he is so very logical, which can be great and irritating all at the same time.<br /><br />I wish I was a "logical". These "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">logicals</span>" they walk around and they are always looking at things for function and purpose. As opposed to us "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">emotionals</span>". We are walking around looking at things for "feeling" and "intensity". The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">logicals</span> do not understand how decision making can be made off of needs for validation or comfort. If it doesn't have a systematic plan or fulfill a goal... why then you just move on and keep working the puzzle. All the pieces must be shaped like your traditional tongues and grooves and they will fit together eventually and make a nice rectangular picture.<br /><br />Sometimes I like my crazy puzzle that has circular and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">trapezoid</span> shaped pieces that somehow fit together and has no definite finished shape. Other times I wish I could just be working on a nice rectangular ending.<br /><br />Certainly, though, I just wish I had more of this logic super power. And a better protective coating on my heart. </span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-49881636564193988472010-06-23T16:08:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:41:17.811-07:00Childhood Tale of Funny<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;">Today my sister Laura poked me on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">FaceBook</span>. Not being one to take something like that lightly... I informed her that I would be telling mom on her. And to quit looking out my window.<br /><br />My other sister, Rachel, I discovered does not know of this "looking out my window" offense of which I speak. It occurs to me that neither do you, most likely. And in the event we are ever riding in a car together, I want you to know full well what you should never do, lest you want me to start a pinching fest when those in the front seats aren't looking.<br /><br />When Laura, Richie and I were little, our parents had normal sedan style vehicles. Which meant that Laura sat next to the door on one side of the backseat... and I sat next to the door on the other side. Richie use to actually be a lot smaller than Laura and I. I know... right? I don't believe me either... but it is the truth. Anyway... he had to sit in the middle. Which he called the "mush pot" and cried about. A lot. Until my dad told him it wasn't the "mush pot"... no, no, son. "It's the KING'S seat. And you're sister's aren't even allowed to sit in it. That's the spot for my boy! My Son! The KING!" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ummmm</span>... I believe that worked. Once.<br /><br />So when we would take trips... most of the time the ones that consisted of the parent's swapping responsibility for the weekend... we did what a lot of other children usually do when they are sitting 3 to a backseat, and annoyed the crap out of each other... and my parents. I do want to say for the record that Laura started it. ALL of it. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Every time</span>. :) So I retaliated by casually turning my head her way and looking out the window on her side of the backseat at the moon, or a horse we were passing or the car next to us... or anything really. As long as it was there, it became very, very interesting to me. And Laura would become <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">INcensed</span>. "MOM! MOM!!! She is doing it again!! She's LOOKING.OUT.MY.WINDOW.!! Make her stop looking out my window. She has her own window!! She doesn't NEED to look out MY window."<br /><br />So I think the first time that happened... my mom (or dad... whomever had the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">privilege</span> of making sense out of THAT horrific sibling torture method)... must have laughed, right? It's kinda of funny. Freaking out about someone looking out a window that happens to be next to your head in a car. However... in our family this was a huge issue for YEARS. Whenever I wanted to irritate Laura or when she wanted to irritate me, we did this to each other to the point where my parents would yell non-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">sensical</span> things like,<br /><br />"IF ANYONE LOOKS OUT A WINDOW THAT IS NOT <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">THEIRS</span>... AT ANYTHING... FOR ANY REASON... AGAIN, EVERYONE IS GETTING A SPANKING AND GOING TO BED WHEN WE GET HOME."<br /><br />"ALRIGHT. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">THAT's</span> IT! If the moon is out Beth's window tonight, then it's her night for the moon. The END. I cannot change the gravitation pull of the earth to make this fair."<br /><br />"YOU CANNOT say "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">dibs</span>" (the imaginary method of claiming ownership of other people's horses for your own) to horses that are out Laura's window. You may ONLY say <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">dibs</span> to horses out your window. If there are no horses on your side, I feel badly for you... but it's your day for out of luck. You may instead want to "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">dibs</span>" cars you like on the other side of the freeway. They'll get you where you want to go a little faster anyway, and you don't have to shovel their poop."<br /><br />We <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">literally</span> were not allowed to turn our heads in the backseat for years. And my poor, poor brother. The only window he could look out was the front <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">windshield</span>. It's a wonder he has <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">peripheral</span> vision. He had to stare straight ahead, because if he turned his head a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">millimeter</span> to either side, Laura and I ganged up on him and it was over. I believe this is probably why he grew to be 6'3" and large. It was out of pure spite. And to insure he will NEVER sit in the mush pot again as long as he lives. :)</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-23687208984949870022010-06-22T13:18:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:38:37.267-07:00Here Be Dragons<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Yesterday I watched this little slice of "Huh. That makes a lot of sense." with my sister.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /></span></span><a href="http://herebedragonsmovie.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;">http://herebedragonsmovie.com/</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#660000;"><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Lately I've been on kind of a "truth quest". I'm not sure anymore about what it is I believe in spiritually, other than trying to be the best person I can be, and treating others with respect and love. There will be more to come on this, I am sure. For now... enjoy the link. It is very entertaining. :)</span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-44480920152030628372010-06-20T14:01:00.001-07:002010-07-11T22:59:11.203-07:00My Daddy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFO_ZWic7l_cKobDRf_5zw1IERmXlQda8BPhjto2zT-xJc1MkmeUm6CnFR-RUlUwyG_bR2I4ZbSCR7HDg-qwqkZsNnMdu3z3zVi1bjoaXW0CnCLYl8GxHK6Pnv_f4ykT8-EQibeXcsFKk/s1600/100_2137.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cccccc;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484964219840932786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFO_ZWic7l_cKobDRf_5zw1IERmXlQda8BPhjto2zT-xJc1MkmeUm6CnFR-RUlUwyG_bR2I4ZbSCR7HDg-qwqkZsNnMdu3z3zVi1bjoaXW0CnCLYl8GxHK6Pnv_f4ykT8-EQibeXcsFKk/s320/100_2137.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#cccccc;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="color:#660000;">"Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad." ~Author Unknown<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">It is from him that I get my sense of humor and my charisma. It is from him that I am learning responsibility and patience. In all things I seek his approval and am often amazed at his way of knowing this... and gently telling me it's up to me. He loves my sister and brother and I unconditionally and has always been there for us.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;">One day I hope to be half as great.</span></span><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">“What do I owe my father? Everything.” ~ Henry Van Dyke. </span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-17283205576470000112010-06-16T21:17:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:39:21.921-07:00Rachel Is Here!<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Rachel Anne <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Leavell</span> arrived today to stay with us for 35 days! We have big plans for weight loss (where I help her) and house organization (where she helps me). I am very happy. :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">She brought her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">iTouch</span> with her. It contains a lot of 80's music, per this throwback trend of today's teenagers. I like the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">excitement</span> on teenage faces when the discover "new" old music. We talked about the Jonas Brothers (and when I say we... I mean she) and first kisses on the way back from the airport. I am very impressed that she has also brought all of her AP homework with her for next year's classes. She gets that from Laura, that academic responsibility thing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">She and Billy are watching "The Land Before Time". I enjoyed very much that she was shocked that I remembered when that movie came out... and that I also vividly remember seeing it in the theatre. Must be my youthful 21(x10) year old appearance...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">:)</span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8509106410722230960.post-82160157063817434272010-06-15T14:10:00.000-07:002010-07-11T22:41:17.812-07:00Patience<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Had a hard time sleeping last night... but miraculously Charlie went back to sleep early this morning and I got to sort of sleep in.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I feel REALLY good today. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Bill posted a beautiful Steve Earle song this morning, called "Little Rock n' Roller" that brought tears to my eyes. Being the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">über</span> emotional one in our relationship, I often mistake his lack of outward emotion for what must be going on inside him internally. Bill has spent a total of 14 (short) periods of time with Charlie in the 16 months he's been alive. This last time he left it was shortly before his first birthday and Charlie was a baby not even walking. Only to come home and find him a talking and walking toddler. We kid ourselves when we discuss his absence by saying that "If there is a part of their growing up that is the best to miss, it's the baby stage. Charlie won't remember it." But Bill, I know, won't ever forget not seeing any milestones and having to "get to know" his second son after this whole this is over. I think about what he is giving up for us and how much I truly love him and for one of the few times in life, words of that magnitude escape me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I learned something about Billy this morning. He woke up and right away began today's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">existence</span> defiant and stubborn. He wanted peanut butter and jelly for breakfast... and then after I told him he may NOT eat it anywhere but at the kitchen table... why then, he informs me he was "Just tricking me. He hates peanut butter and jelly." Which is so odd, since I am pretty sure that Billy's molecular makeup at this point consists of water, yogurt and PB&J. Every once in awhile he gets crazy eats something exotic like mac-n-cheese or a pork chop. Anyway, I let it be and told him basically that the sandwich was his for the remainder of the day until it was gone. This brought on the barrage of classic juvenile manipulation tactics, with well loved zingers such as, "I HATE you, Mom." and "You are NOT the best mom ever." As well as the best one for last: "If you don't let me eat in the living room I am gonna RUN AWAY."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I didn't react. I just let him stomp it out. After he was upstairs for about 5 minutes, I went up there as well. The little stinker was laying in my bed, so I climbed into bed with him. Interestingly enough, filled with hate and dreams of life as a 4 year old run away, he snuggled up to me. I asked him to tell me a story. The story was about a princess, a prince, a witch, a queen and a king. Apparently in that particular kingdom, the princess and the prince got married and kissed... and then they had the king and queen. Then the witch came along... and she covered them with slime and made them eat boogers. And gave them all allergies. To his credit, he did tell me originally what the witch did to them was a secret because it was gross. I am EVER so glad I insisted that he share.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">After about 10 minutes of snuggle story time... he was fine. Came down, ate his PB&J at the table and has been... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">uhhh</span>... let's go with "normal Billy" ever since. I must remember that my oldest child is a lot like his mother in that he requires physical touch, as well as verbal affirmation, to feel loved. And patience... lots and lots of patience. For our sakes, it's a good thing we have his father to give us both a lot of patience.</span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11494211742580645846noreply@blogger.com1