The Skin I Am In

Motherless

2009-11-08T12:31:00.018-05:00

What is love? The ultimate question which has no finite answer--what love is to one may not be to another. Not to mention the ambiguity in the word "love", for there is romantic love, the love we have for our friends, and what is revered to be the supreme of all types: a mother's love. I know this to be the most powerful kind not only from my own experience as a mother, but as well as what seems to be a unanimous consensus the world over. Regardless of race, culture or social status, it is one element that remains constant. This unique bond is so important that it even surpasses the likes of mankind.

Scientifically the reason mothers--whether they be birds, bears, chimps, or humans--are protective of their young is obviously necessary for survival. The maternal spirit is deeply wired within us women essentially for the same purpose as is the insatiable sex drive of males: to ensure the continuance of the species.

Yet it is much more complex than that. Providing food, shelter and clothing obviously isn't enough to satisfy what we have come to respect as the most important job on earth. I have recently been reading Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul since receiving it as a birthday gift from my 11-year old daughter. In addition to the varied and personal stories shared about mothers and motherhood, the book is peppered with quotes attempting to encapsulate just what the term "mother" means. One such example:

"A mother's love perceives no impossibilities." -Paddock

Of the many circumstances shared throughout the book, from harrowing to seemingly trivial, the common thread among the stories is that each is a touching and inspirational account. Reflecting on the disappointing relationship I have with my own mother, I've begun to wonder: What is a mother's responsibility to her children? And do her responsibilities end when the child is grown? Is the kind of love we expect mothers to bestow upon her child always pure and selfless? All parents desire for their children to be happy and successful; however, it's often expected the child will follow the path that we have defined for success in our own minds. When that wish is pure from selfish motivations we encourage them to attain that in the manner which satisfies them, not merely through means which we deem appropriate. We should encourage our children to think freely by communicating our own values--without forcing them--and, likewise, be there to provide emotional support when needed.

I suppose my own mom has afforded me more than the bare necessities for survival; however, as an adult now in my thirties I realize more than ever how her needs are continually put above my own, her values insidiously used to judge mine. There are by far worse mothers in this world, of that I am greatly aware. Yet I also recognize how, while my survival needs were met, my emotional needs have been, and still are, greatly neglected.

I know she loves me--as in me, her daughter. But she doesn't love me, the person. Quite frankly, she doesn't even know me. Nor does she seem to care to. I am often envious of other mother-daughter relationships and have put a great deal of thought into why I feel so disconnected and unaccepted by her. As a result, I avoid her calls a great deal of the time and only do pick up the phone when I'm in a particularly forgiving mood and feel up to the 60-minute monologue that will accompany the receiver. She does complain that we don't talk as much as she would like, but I can't help but wonder: Is she really so clueless not to realize that perhaps if she offered even a smidgen of understanding, acceptance and emotional support I would actually want to talk to her?

Although her opening line--without fail--is, "how are you?" the inflection is delivered with utmost predictability and drawn out just enough to sound more like an obligatory question than a sincere inquiry. I have learned that answering with a simple "fine" is just fine with her and certainly one sentence or less is preferred. Then, content with my contentedness she proceeds to fill me in on the mundane details of her past week, including what colors she has painted on what walls throughout the home--never mind that I have spent the past year redecorating my house--of which the details would certainly bore her. Never mind that I am presently embarking on the life-altering and emotionally tumultuous journey of ending a 13-year marriage. About which (rather than offer words of comfort or encouragement or even just lend a listening ear) she musters a pathetic "that's too bad" in a tone so listless it's clear she'd rather not be bothered with anything so sinister. It's as if she wishes I were a wall she could sweep a quick coat of paint over to change into something that fits her personal taste.

It is difficult not to feel immensely hurt when the one person on this earth who is supposed to be there for me no matter what--the one who is supposed to offer unconditional support and understanding--makes me feel used rather than loved. Evidently, I disappoint because I am unable to always paint a pretty picture about life to place within her nice little package of oblivion. Well, sometimes life is great; sometimes it's not. And when it isn't, I have only to imagine how comforting it would feel to be showered by a mother's selfless love.

~~~

Delightful Dave

2009-06-02T14:13:00.003-04:00

Dave hadn't always been a complete dunce to Diane. Obviously she had seen some redeeming qualities in him at one point for them to marry and have children together. In fact, once upon a time she had been very much in love with Dave.

By Diane's own admission, it isn't that Dave is a bad person (albeit careless and oblivious), rather she surmises it's a case of outgrowing one another. The traits that attracted her to him in the first place are either now obsolete, or simply qualities that her current, grown-up self no longer needs. As you may have imagined by now, Diane is a more dramatic and emotionally-charged individual than the quieter, "keep-the-peace-at-all-costs" Dave. And naturally in her youth she was more so than ever. Dave was her anchor, ever so patient and reliable. Add his sensitivity and compassion to the list--traits that Diane had found to be very rare in a man--and she felt very lucky indeed.

In fact, there were only a couple of red flags both of which, in her youthful naivety, Diane wrongfully assumed would resolve over time. The first, his excessive drinking at social events, she barely gave a second thought about effecting the future because at that stage in their lives it was relatively normal. She herself was often guilty of overindulging at parties or get-togethers. Yet as the years would show, she slowly learned the art of pacing herself, while Dave continues to drink like a teenager who is out for the very first time, still painfully ignorant to the ill-effects of massive alcohol consumption. What to this day seems like a non-issue to Dave, is a worrisome and infuriating habit to Diane.

The second annoyance was one that began upsetting her very early on, although she could not have conceived of it's magnitude until it was too late: the contemptible in-laws. She now knows (ain't hindsight something else!?) that it was because of the extraordinary dysfunction and emotional abuse which caused Dave to minimize their inappropriate and hateful behavior. So early in their relationship and therefore only having Dave's word to take on the matter, Diane did her best to grin and bear it. She also foolishly expected, should they cross the line, that his love for her would not stand for it and that he would defend her against them. After all, Dave and Diane were building a life together. Yes, his parents were his past. But she was his future.

Boy! If only it worked that way! It has become painfully obvious, not only in observing him, but in dealing with her own perceptions about the world, how unshakable our childhood conditioning is. For this reason, Dave learned to build his existence around the premise of not rocking the boat. Dave is not interested in living life, as Diane so often puts it, but surviving it. What he fails to realize is that what you don't know (or refuse to see) can hurt you. Turning a blind eye when your wife desperately reaches out to you or when she tells you she's not happy or when she tells you to wake up or get out, is not going to make the issues disappear. As Dave is learning the hard way, unattended problems don't vanish, they simply fester.

And now, after all these months of Diane goading Dave and Dave finally realizing that something must be done, it is possibly too late. Thanks to Dave's procrastination, Diane had a great many months to think and reflect. There have recently been times when she feels a spark of hope, that maybe, just maybe if he could continue like this and she could change her frame of mind....but, alas, he quickly reminds her how many things are wrong. I suppose after standing over the cliff for so long like Diane did, it doesn't take much to push you right back. Plus, with all that time to think, Diane has realized that even when Dave is on his best behavior, he doesn't necessarily provide her with the things she longs to share with a partner. It's true, no body is perfect, nor are any two people 100% compatible; however, Diane can't help but think there must be closer than this.

Suicidal Thoughts

2009-01-03T22:29:00.008-05:00

Don't worry. I have no current plans to do myself in. But because while in my hometown visiting my family for Christmas last week, I was informed -- for the second time this month -- of a suicide, I must say that it has been on my mind. Because the holidays are so incredibly commercialized as being "the happiest time of the year" it seems counter-intuitive to imagine how those very expectations have the opposite effect on so many. But if things are not going swimmingly, I can see how it could be hard to cope having such excessive cheer rubbed in your face everywhere you turn for the better part of two months. After all, Christmas day is probably the last day on earth anyone would want to spend alone.

I didn't know either of the individuals well (one not at all) and they were in no way connected to one another; one was a friend of a friend and the other a friend and neighbor of my parents'. Tom killed himself two weeks before Christmas and Mary, my mom's walking companion, three days after. Obviously without knowing their situations I can not begin to fathom the pain they must have suffered to lead them to choose such a devastating end to their problems, but considering the timing it would seem negligent not to deem the holidays an aggravating factor. Other than the proximity of their ages, the only common denominator in their lives that I am aware of was a failed marriage. Although Tom was still married, it was rocky at best. Mary's husband of 25 years had left her some time back, from which she had never emotionally recovered; in fact, she had already attempted suicide once, the details of which are rather graphic and disturbing. She was hospitalized for several weeks as a result and treated for depression, but unfortunately it never really resolved.

Albeit the most important in many of our lives, marriage is still but just one of our relationships, and each of the remaining individuals to which these two were connected were therefore left behind. Tom's three daughters -- who happen to be triplets -- are 13 years old. While Mary's children are grown and able to fend for themselves, she had 5 grandchildren all under the age of ten. These two strangers, who were apparently overwhelmed with hopelessness and despair, both chose to selfishly unburden themselves at the cost of inflicting immeasurable grief upon those who cared for them the most -- upon children who will never fully comprehend and who will bear the weight of guilt indefinitely, quietly wondering why they weren't enough, thinking that perhaps they could have saved them if only they had smiled more or hugged them more or reminded them how much they loved them.

We have all been anguished at some point in our lives. Some of us, myself included, at one time or another have probably even asked, "what's the point?" But obviously for most of us the answer comes or we find something, anything, worthwhile to hold onto. Being a soul who rarely takes things at face-value, I have to wonder what factors weighed the most heavily on these people in making such an irrevocable decision. Was it a vision of disturbingly grim futures they saw for themselves? Or were their current circumstances so overwhelming that they were unable to see beyond the present? How much did their pasts tip the scale? For on one hand, if life had previously been relatively happy and unburdened, it may have been more difficult to cope when things are falling apart and made what they envisioned the future to be that much more daunting. Alternately, if life had frequently been tumultuous, perhaps they simply hadn't experienced enough joy to envision a future worth living.

I believe at least one of them did leave a suicide note which would likely answer some of these questions and possibly give the slightest sliver of peace to their loved-ones. I can't imagine someone taking their own life and at least not giving their family that -- for although they no longer bear the burden of their pain, it is by no means over; it has become their legacy, passed on to the hearts of their near and dear, an inheritance like no other. An inheritance no one would claim if given the choice.

Dying Diane

2008-12-07T15:32:00.011-05:00

Diane had been struggling with her situation for what seemed like an eternity (although considering the tenure of their marriage and the magnitude of her impending decision, it hadn't been exceptionally long) when she realized her strength was waining and her indignation sadly reducing to resignation. Make no mistake about it: she was not resigning to try to work it out with Dave, for the more they spoke about life and love her contempt for him only grew deeper; rather, she resigned to admitting that her fervent attempts at finding a happier existence were futile and idealistic. She had no earning potential. She loathed the city Dave had dragged her to five years previously, but could not afford to live where she thought she could thrive on a single mothers budget. And most ironically of all, she knew she'd be forced to bear the brunt of the blame, the glares from her children, family, or friends, every time the smallest thing went wrong, because she was the one who left, after all. Poor, innocent Dave. The one whose self-fulfilling prophecy it was to portray a calm and bewildered affect while refusing to listen, understand, communicate or care. Of course Diane was at fault for everything! She wears her heart on her sleeve. Dave remains stoic, but her emotions are palpable. And the more callous Dave behaves, the stronger the emotional undercurrent coursing through Diane's veins. Therefore, the longer he remains apathetic to the volatility of her well-being, the more her exasperation shows and the more resentment she oozes, superficially solidifying Dave's role as victim. Yet, as many of the others don't understand, she has come to him so many times. Expressed her needs. Her desires. Her pain. Her suffering. Yet time and again he turns his back. It's a situation children just can't comprehend -- for they can't see his neglect, only her disdain -- and it pains her so to think they will resent her.

Amidst these thoughts her biggest roadblock, and that which causes her the most distress, is not only her skepticism in what the future holds, but in the more immediate question, where would they live? Because of their current location she has lost her sense of optimism about the world. She has grave doubts that she could find happiness anywhere at all. She feels completely trapped. In Hell. She can no longer see the sun and she genuinely fears that the large cloud looming overhead will simply follow wherever she goes. And she is slowly dying.

Doggy Paddling Diane

2008-12-03T12:20:00.025-05:00

(This is a continuation of the tale of Dave and Diane, who were introduced in The Basket of Denial: A Short Story.)

Doggy paddling is instinctual, yet inefficient. It requires too much energy to do for long and it doesn't get you far; it merely keeps you afloat. And only for a little while until your muscles tire and cramp and eventually refuse to work. Assuming rescue is not imminent, one must adapt their skills beyond the primitive in order to endure.

Before she actually made the break from Dave (the physical one anyway -- as she had emotionally broken away long before) many thoughts ruminated in Diane's head. She knew in all likelihood she was a hopeless romantic--or was she just hopeless? she wondered. She felt that over time she had learned to keep her expectations of love to be more practical, although she couldn't help subconsciously but to imagine how it could be. There were certain things she intrinsically longed for, certain things that spoke love to her and she couldn't help but feel that she was settling -- there just had to be more to relationships than simply muddling through life together. Sure, that was a big part of it; but in order to feed and nurture the relationship, to keep it from souring, there had to be something sweet added and it only made sense that each partner contribute some of the "sugar." As it turned out, the less sugar Dave added to the relationship, the more bitter Diane grew. And for anyone who knows a lick about psychology, bitter people generally have little sugar to give.

Interestingly, just preceding their most serious marital troubles, Diane felt she was making great strides in her own emotional health. She realized that most of the negative behaviors she had engaged in when younger had dissolved and she was learning to better cope with resentment. Another benefit she encountered as a result of the maturation process was learning to better defend herself from others in a constructive manner, along with developing the ability to do so with less justification and more resolution. However, amidst these advancements challenges also arose. As she became more insightful, the dysfunctional patterns in her relationships became much clearer and, being a person who strives for personal growth, naturally Diane could no longer thrive with them in place. Now, this should have been a good thing -- it was an opportunity to interrupt the cycles and rebuild troubled relationships into healthier ones. Yet unfortunately, some people cling desperately to the adage that ignorance is bliss -- and, as we know from The Basket of Denial, ignorance is not only Dave's condition of choice, it appears to be his adopted religion.

After the initial setbacks and getting nowhere but frustrated, Diane attempted to focus less on her and Dave and more simply on her. The conditions, however, were just too poor: still lacking in sugar and drowning in a sour sea, it was nearly impossible for her to make any emotional gains and, in fact, if anything, she saw herself slipping. She was overwhelmed by frustration and resentment with too few ways to vent or express it. Anchored by Dave and being pulled under by the current of familiar patterns, she regressed to having outbursts of anger and spells of hopelessness. Just the way, she assumed, Dave wanted it to be. For then he could play the part of hero and caretaker -- all the while dismissing his responsibility in the matter -- by picking up the pieces and wordlessly expressing, "see? You need me." Ironically, however, was that seemingly it was the reverse that were true. For how will he continue his delusions when Diane is finally gone? He will have no choice but to further develop his spirituality (the blissfulness of ignorance) lest he succumb to the harshness of the cold and unaccommodating foreign land of Reality -- a place he has heard of, but never ventured to. A place you do not reach easily relying on doggy paddle alone.

But what ultimately happens to Dave is neither here nor there; this chapter is dedicated to Diane and her struggle to grow emotionally. Upon realizing that she had fallen right back to where she began (not in her ultimate goal, rather her emotional health) she began losing all hope that she could become a better person after all. Who was she kidding? She would only be fooling herself if she thought she was capable of nurturing a strong and healthy partnership with anyone. Considering, here she was, these many years later and she was functioning with an unrefined and inefficient method of frantic and desperate movements. She had so desperately wanted to try the breast stroke or the butterfly but, alas, she was not swimming alone and her teammate was not interested in learning anything new -- even at the expense of their own survival. She spent several weeks lamenting the fates of her emotional vitality and romantic future when a spark went off in Diane's head and ignited an epiphany that maybe -- just maybe -- once she was cut lose from the anchor and she rose above the sour sea to catch her breath, her metamorphosis would continue. "After all, it is a biological fact," she thought, "that not a single thing grows in the absence of air."

A Quickie

2008-11-28T16:41:00.005-05:00

This is just something I jotted down on a piece of cardboard a while back as I suddenly felt inspired at one of my children's softball games. I could turn it into a much longer post, but will leave it simple for now:

While it isn't the responsibility of others to endow our emotional needs, common philosophy says that love makes the world go 'round. So while we alone must find happiness for ourselves, a life without love is a lonely one indeed. Perhaps truly healthy relationships are those which are maintained not out of need or the sense that the other person "completes" you, but instead of the desire and ability to enhance one another's lives. Simply put: We shouldn't need our partners, but want them.

The Real America

2008-10-26T10:14:00.004-04:00

I think that regardless of which side of the political fence you're on, this may very well change the way you think about America. I know I have shared my strong opinion about Sarah Palin in recent posts, but this video cuts to the chase and goes directly to Wasilla, AK to emphasize what Palin has been saying all along about the humble, honest and patriotic citizens grown in her town.

You would be remiss not to watch this video.

http://www.thedailyshow.com/video/index.jhtml?videoId=188638&title=understanding-real-america-in

Parodoxical Ideals

2008-10-15T17:26:00.013-04:00

Since I recently opened the political can of worms on my last post I feel this would be a good time to broach another bothersome issue before changing the subject. It has been ruffling my feathers for quite some time, and although I'm sharing these thoughts mostly as a way to express my frustrations about society, I welcome comments that may be able to shed some understanding and justification on what I see as contradictory ethics and rampant hypocrisy.

I'm referring to the basic ideology of right-wing politics, aka, the Republican party. Without attempting the daunting task of dissecting a wide array of individual causes, examining their partisan principles in a nutshell exemplifies my point. Now before you accuse me of being an extreme leftist, you should know that a few of my personal stances actually fall within the parameters of elephant territory. One example is that I do not unequivocally oppose capital punishment, especially considering the advancements in the field of forensic science and the accuracy of DNA. In fact, if anything I advocate a more expedient process with fewer appeals and tax dollars spent on executions. I additionally hold moderate views regarding immigration laws and reducing the negative impact illegal immigrants have on our economy.

However, the conglomerate of Republican ideals is riddled with contradiction. Interestingly--and although I would never be so cavalier as to say all--it is relatively safe to say that most right-wing citizens practice and/or value Christianity (in fact, some even say they vote for the conservative candidate primarily as a result of religious views). For this reason I find it extraordinarily intriguing that these very same conservatives not only support, but often fight for such issues as the death penalty, gun rights, and going to war! Equally ironic is that one of their big ticket issues is maintaining low taxes (including for the wealthy and multi-million dollar corporations) while simultaneously demanding we spend oodles of government funds on not only maintaining a super-sized military, but attacking every country posing some sort of perceived threat, realistic or not. Meanwhile, our children are receiving the worst educations of nearly any civilized country, our natural resources are rapidly declining, and the rest of the world is losing respect for the United Bullies of America--issues that left unchecked have me wondering just exactly how we expect to be the world super power in future generations?

Secondly, I find it rather peculiar that so many of the Jesus-followers who vehemently oppose abortion rights also oppose government aid to the needy! Admittedly, our welfare system is extremely flawed and in desperate need of reform, but how can anyone be so callous as to support allocating billions of dollars for bombing and rebuilding other countries, yet advocate abandoning the less-fortunate citizens of our own? And how can people be so naive to think that a society benefits from dictating our human rights and then refusing to help the people affected by those very regulations? And how, pray tell, do these belief-systems coalesce with the teachings of their supposed Savior?

I honestly can't make the logical connection between Christianity and the Republican party as there seems to be a gigantic gap between these religious and political ideals. Let's simplify: Pro guns. Pro war. Pro big business. Pro God.

Er?

On the flip side we have: Anti-welfare. Anti-public eduction. Anti-gay rights. Anti-stem-cell research. Aka, anti-progress.

It would seem that Republicans oppose anything that doesn't directly aid in lining their pockets or mirror their assumed morals. (Morals, mind you, which preclude victims of rape from ending an unwanted pregnancy, yet tolerate tax dollars contributing to the killings of innocent children and babies in far away lands because, although unfortunate, those means are justifiable.)

Again, I am perplexed. Pro life. Pro war. Now take a moment to stop and digest the irony in these words: Pro life. Pro war.

I certainly wouldn't suggest that either side is free from corruption or exempt from contradictions, but based on its fundamental principles, the Republican party is plagued with hypocrisy. Whether or not you agree, I have come to this conclusion: After boiling down all the bureaucracy of partisanship to get to the bottom line lies one fundamental difference between left and right, blue and red, donkey and elephant: A Republican fights for himself, while a Democrat fights for the people.

Interestingly, it isn't the Christian dominated party which prioritizes human rights over profit and power.

Palin, the Political Poison

2008-10-07T09:32:00.016-04:00

There's no sense in beating around the bush: I'm scared. As in genuinely nervous and fearful regarding the direction of this country. Considering our current economic state I suppose almost anyone could rightfully make the same claim; yet for me, the fear that Sarah Palin could very well be the Commander-in-Chief of this nation in the not-so-distant future supercedes our present day recession. I admit I have spent the greater part of my life politically apathetic. I didn't follow the elections all that closely, nor did I watch the televised debates thoroughly or even gave much credence to what the media was buzzing about. That is, until now.

Although I've been leaning towards Barack Obama for a while, I still didn't feel a great sense of urgency regarding the election until McCain made his infamous VP selection, who contrary to popular belief is no Mary Magdalene. Granted, I have never been her #1 fan but the more I learn about her and the more I see of her, the more red flags that begin to wave and the more my instinctive alarms go off. For Palin, people, is nothing more than a fresh and polished, but very poisonous apple.

Personally, I have not heard one positive thing this woman "stands for." In fact, she evades answering questions like typhoid fever. Anyone who is naive enough to think she makes a good candidate because she is an unseasoned, "six-pack Joe" is a bloody fool. It takes a lot of manipulation tactics to be as evasive as she is and who is better suited to grandstanding than a politician? It doesn't take several terms as Senator to develop these skills; for some, it just comes naturally.

She has complained about how much Katie Couric annoyed her because she claims Couric was trying to "trap" her into being straight-forward. She has misquoted and misinterpreted Madeleine Albright to insinuate that any woman who does not vote for her is going to Hell. She has flat-out stated that instead of answering interviewers questions she wanted to talk about what the Americans really care about, which in her professional opinion--is bashing Obama. She ignored Gwen Ifill, the moderator of the vice-presidential debate, continuing on with her own selfish agenda.

Sidestepping the whole issue that I firmly believe in the separation of church and state, a distinction that she clearly seems unable to recognize, this woman, who wasn't even a terrific governor of an underpopulated state, has absolutely no business being in the running in the first place. Anyone with a lick of sense knows she was chosen solely as a publicity tactic and not for merit, credentials or experience. Her loyalties do not lie among the people of this nation--that is more than evident! She has but one goal and two strategies to get there. Realizing that she actually has a shot at becoming this country's first female VP and possibly first female president, her eyes are fixed firmly upon the white house as she eagerly licks her chops.

To anyone who reads between the lines (as we all should do before casting a vote in an election as important as this) her strategies are as obvious as her aspiration. Her first line of defense to avoid giving concrete, credible answers is to create a diversion by slewing verbal arsenals at Obama with any means necessary. The reason is obvious: when you lack any merit by which to elevate yourself, you must tear your opponent down.

Her second gimmick to fool Americans into forgetting her deficits is attempting to create the illusion of some great alliance by affiliating herself with the country's "everyday" citizens. If she is such an average Joe who understands and empathizes with the plights of the people, why, praytell, is she against women's rights? Why is she against abortion, yet simultaneously against programs to help the impoverished, such as young, unwed mothers? WHY are women in the state she governs forced to buy their own rape kits? Does this sound like someone who really gives a God-forsaken damn?

So what, she's attractive. She goes to church. She's a mom. The last time I checked these weren't valid qualifications to run the United States of America! For crying out loud, if we think George W. Bush is a joke, then she's the punchline! She simply can not be trusted and she is using the aforementioned qualities to her benefit to paint a superficial appearance for which to hide the manipulative and selfish person residing within.

Contrary to what you're probably thinking, I would not go so far as to classify myself as a democrat. While I do share more of the liberal ideology, I readily admit many of our systems need serious reform. Yet, under no circumstances do I want our country to take two steps back for every one we've taken. As much as I would like to see a woman in power, it must be the right woman. One who advocates justice, progression, and social values. Most importantly, one with integrity.

Sources:
(A thank you to Pentad's blog which led me to some of these links.)

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/03/palin-on-fox-news-couric_n_131655.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/05/ifill-palin-blew-me-off_n_132028.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/05/palin-misquotes-albright_n_131967.html

Flying High

2008-10-03T20:35:00.005-04:00

I must admit something before beginning: I am not completely sober or in a traditional state-of-mind. After all, I am on a cross-country flight to return home from yet another intoxicating trip to one of my favorite places. There was honestly no pun intended on the adjective chosen to describe my escape; however, intoxicating is amusingly appropriate considering the “cups” of wine I've recently consumed on this flight coupled with the fact that I've had very little to eat, and am listening to some of my favorite tunes thanks to Apple technology (which even under normal circumstances can take me to another time and place). I honestly can not describe the feeling I get while in and around Los Angeles. Add good music to a perfect ambiance and I become completely entranced. Interestingly, after a long hiatus from visiting in which I convinced myself I would no longer benefit in the same way that I used to, I discovered, then confirmed, on my last two trips respectively, that the city of angels will always have a hold over me.

I'm lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you look at it) even to be on this plane. It was far too close a call whether or not I would make my flight. Far too close even for me. My general laid back, “it'll be fine, relax” nature is actually what nearly caused me to miss it in the first place. In other words, I wanted to extract every second I could before departing and therefore dicked around too long this morning focused on the elements that lay in my favor--such as my flight was out of Orange County instead of LAX, which is not only much smaller, but also much closer—and neglected to give enough credence to the negating factors including the fact I still had to return the rental car as well as fill it up with gas before so. Nor did I anticipate the many other things that could go wrong and only do so when one is suffering a time crunch of critical importance. On the bright side, I felt justified in the fact that I simply had no choice but to test the limits of the cherry red Mustang as I made my way down the 405 towards John Wayne airport. The combination of speed, fresh air, good music and adrenaline made for a very nice drive indeed. Yet the adventure was far from over.

Skipping the rest of the many gory details (yes, I even cut in line--ironically, at the advice of airport employees)--except to say that it would have made for some interesting, if not humorous footage had I been the subject of some ridiculous reality series--I will say that I have spent the last hour or two (really have no idea) enjoying my amphetamine and alcohol induced state of being (both perfectly legal and neither of which I abuse, mind you) reflecting on how wonderful and simultaneously bitter-sweet life can be.

To be continued...

The Basket Of Denial: A Short Story

2008-07-05T16:17:00.027-04:00

Once upon a time there was a fictitious man named Dave who, although fictitious, bore grave importance because he was so very representative of the many men and women living in the alternate universe of non-fiction, aka reality, who shared the same condition. In an interesting twist, not only was Dave himself fictitious but so were many of the beliefs in his head. This is because the poor fella was afflicted with what we in the real world call denial. My definition for this condition: A stubborn and selfishly motivated disillusionment about certain facts of reality which, if accepted as truth would rob bearer of his or her blissful ignorance. Well, this creates a problem since in order to maintain self-preservation the bearer must choose to ignore or deny said facts and, since denying them does not actually make them any less real, the cycle continues.

So back to Dave. Dave was in denial about a lot of things that he didn't wish to be true ranging from his parents' emotional abuse, to his children's issues, to his own negligent and often foolish behaviors. He consistently made excuses, manipulated facts, and swept things under the rug, somehow believing that he would not have to deal with such problems if he ignored them long enough. Now if only his family members were able to join him in the depths of his mythological mind, they too may have been able to ignore these situations. But unfortunately they reside in the real world where not only do the issues remain, but left untreated, intensify. Because of this, Dave's refusal to see things for what they really were slowly destroyed the bridge between him and his loved-ones.

With the almighty wisdom bestowed upon me as narrator, I analogize this practicing of incessant denial to putting all of your eggs into one basket. After all, maintaining denial is nothing short of banking on the premise that either your beliefs are true or will eventually be accepted as true the longer you protest. Yet this unhealthy mind game can only function for so long before frustration and resentment moves any capable and responsible beneficiaries of the behavior to demand change or incite it themselves, usually via ultimatum or a parting of the ways. At least that's what happened to Dave.

One morning Dave woke up to find that his wife, Diane, was actually serious all those times she said she'd had enough. It was now too late; she was gone. He suddenly became aware that his tightly woven universe was unraveling although he really shouldn't have been surprised—after all, the basket had slowly been slipping from his grip for quite some time now as Diane had repeatedly shared her frustrations and discontent with him. She was desperate for growth and vitality; he was desperate not to change. Ever. And he had successfully prevented any for years. What he hadn't expected, however, was that she would finally draw the parallel of this situation to one she had learned long ago in discipling her children: idle threats are quickly defeated -- one must follow through their alleged intent or become equally guilty in fueling the flames of the vicious cycle. Naturally, Dave hadn't counted on this realization.

Now, a person of merit (or at least of compassion) would find a way to win her back. But Dave? He just lost his grip. On the basket of denial, that is. At the moment the basket made its last contact with his skin--his fingers desperately fumbling, reaching for the handle--his unwise investment was finally realized, yet again too late. Burning into one's memory the sights and sounds of a life falling apart, was the unforgettable scene of spilling eggs accompanied by a sharp and poignant noise that echoed like a choir of shattering glass as one by one each fragile piece of the past tumbled slowly and dramatically to the ground.

In the aftermath the shattered shards of shell lie loosely bound together by the slimy remnants of life that was once contained within. Hoping to salvage something from the mess, Dave soon discovered that scramble as they may to repair the damage, neither all the kings horses nor all the kings men can put a blind man's basket (fictitious or otherwise) back together again.

Morals of the story?

1) The truth hurts, but denial doesn't change it.

2) Waiting until it's too late is just that.

My prescription for this condition: Reality. And now.

Please note that it does not come in liquid form, only non-coated, hard to swallow tablets. Must be swallowed whole. Do not crush or break.

Possible side effects: vertigo, confusion, disgruntle, upset stomach. (If you begin experiencing hallucinations, need not fear, this is not a side effect, just the part of the world you have refused to see.)

The End.

What I Know

2008-06-03T22:25:00.020-04:00

Life is a continual learning process and I am currently in the process of learning that we often never arrive at the answer we are in search of--at least not overnight and not in the way we expect.

In essence, I ran away to Paris. I ran for several reasons, not the least of which was to simply escape. I needed, not wanted, but needed some time away from my relentless troubles and, quite frankly, from my life. I thought by getting out of the thick of it I would be able to better decipher which course I should take at this crucial crossroads in my life while simultaneously evaluating what it is I really do want. Yet once basking in the magnificent and fascinating city that is Paris, the last thing I wanted to do was pause to contemplate my problems! I may not have developed any epiphanies as to which solution shall best repair my ruinous path, but I do feel that I have grown some, changed some, and realized a few things that deep down I've probably known all along. I was reminded of my personal strength and resolve which actually bears greater value in the outcome of this story than the choice itself. In other words, I essentially arrived at my answer; it just didn't come to me in the form I was originally anticipating.

I surmise it is rather fitting that living in the City of Lights for a few weeks would illuminate the dusty bulb in my head and aid the rediscovery of certain knowledge that had spent far too much time in the dark (rather than referring to my time there as visiting or staying in Paris, I have deliberately phrased it so that the verb would more suitably reflect the action--for living is precisely what I did). It is ironic that being thousands of miles from home and adopting a foreign lifestyle is what brought me closer to what was once so familiar; for at one time I was much more in tune with my strength and determination. I was living quite differently than I do now, and very contentedly so.

Over the past several months I have allowed the depths of the unknown to weigh heavily upon me, hindering any action one way or another. Now, in light of my Parisian adventure, I plan to focus less on what I don't know and more on what I do know.

Firstly, I know that I alone am responsible for my happiness, and am therefore becoming more committed to said pursuit.

Secondly, I know I don't need oodles of material possessions, such as my big house or perfectly dressed children to be happy. It amazes me that as we get used to having nice things we begin to feel defined by them and eventually lose our true identities and self-worth to meaningless objects. I have learned that in reality “all this” contributes very little, if any, to my overall happiness. I am certainly not ready to give up all modern comforts, but I can just as certainly be comfortable with less—exceedingly so if I were more fulfilled and enriched in the other areas of my life.

I know that I need more than a life of domesticity to feel satisfied, happy and whole. I need novelty and adventure every so often to feel alive. I would also greatly benefit by experiencing a sense of accomplishment, particularly if I could turn an interest I am passionate about into a way to financially provide for myself.

I know that always playing it safe constrains one's spirit. Just as we can't expect great things to happen if we don't take risks, we can't expect things to improve if we don't incite change. Nor can we expect to live our lives to their fullest potential if we always dismiss our discontent and insatiable yearning.

And possibly most importantly of all, I know that I am strong and completely capable. If I can manage to survive a slew of misadventures while traveling alone in a foreign country--ready to go back for more before it is even over--I surmise I can hold my own in most situations. I utilized my own judgment and instincts, explaining myself to no one. And wouldn't you know: every situation was successfully resolved. Not only that, being on my own much of the time allowed me the luxury of enjoying each moment without the pollution of interruptions or the pressure to hurry. I was happier than I've been in a very long time and even made more friends in my three weeks there than in my five years here.

I guess in some ways I did have an epiphany regarding my future and taking a crack at independence in the big, bad world. The answer I found wasn't exactly whether or not I should do it. The answer I found was that I can do it.

La Joie De Vivre

2008-05-17T17:22:00.024-04:00

In spite of suffering initial homesickness and a great many misadventures, I am currently faring much better than my own predictions at the commencement of this Parisienne expedition. At the peak of my loneliness and longing for my children I quite literally dreaded the duration of my stay. For what could I possibly do here for nearly three weeks? I proceeded to diagnose myself as clinically insane for booking a solo voyage to a foreign country for a period of longer than four or five days. However, as I have discovered it requires a certain amount of time to fully enjoy the destination and reap the benefits of getting away. The first days are extremely stressful as you must not only become geographically acclimated, but culturally as well.

I have visited many of the “must-see” sights of Paris, and although there are still a few specific things I would like to do, I can now slow down and actually enjoy this beautiful and historic mecca. There is a very distinct difference between seeing a place and experiencing it. When visiting for only a few days and going from one tourist attraction to another, so very much gets missed. It is difficult, if not impossible, to really get the essence of a place when you only scratch the surface and hastily at that.

More than on any other journey I have felt the freedom to aimlessly walk in search of only whatever it is that lies around the corner. I found a marvelous long-cut back to my apartment by getting off at a different metro station. It is a little further away but well-worth it. When I ascend to the top of the stairs from the metro station and emerge at ground level I am immediately surrounded by Le Louvre and the Palais Royal. Then I get to cut through the Palais Royal gardens and under a long canopy of trees that extends the length of the gardens. On one side of what feels like my secret path are cute cafes for outdoor dining and on the other are the palace fountains naturally fit for a queen. This walk home c'est tres magnifique!

Another example to the benefit of an extended stay is how on a traditional vacation I may have considered today a bit of a waste because I did not have my camera nor did I mentally check anything off my to-do list. Yet taking things one day at a time and implementing a “joie de vivre” mindset I realize what a truly wonderful day it was, albeit completely spontaneous and unexpected. I was fortunate and pleasantly surprised to have good company who showed me many beautiful places I never would have seen otherwise. We were in no hurry and had no particular destination. Throughout our meandering we experienced a mix of clouds, sunshine, and a sudden downpour. The weather was so erratic it may possibly cause me to falsely recollect today's journey as not one, but several.

On a few occasions the setting was so spectacular I was compelled to simply stop and soak it in. I just stood there, literally savoring the place, the sights, the sounds, the moment. At one time I leaned on a railing on a bridge of the Seine enjoying the most amazing view. I remember equally enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face as it simultaneously illuminated the scene before me. Adding to the perfect ambiance, a band was playing music in the street. Then, just when I thought it couldn't get any better, the bells of Notre Dame began ringing just a few short yards away. It was purely magical; that is la joie de vivre.

In between some of the more extraordinary moments it recently occurred to me that I have not done much, if any, thinking about the things I came here to think about. Yet, I also came here to get away from many things and that I have done. In the process of realizing that I haven't had any epiphanies about my situation, I have realized that there is no deadline by which I must reach a definitive conclusion. Instead of thinking, analyzing, and weighing my problems I am learning to take things one day at a time. Often the bigger picture is just too overwhelming. With the mentality that every little decision I make could affect the next decision and the next and the next, it puts an extraordinary amount of pressure on anything I do! I am slowly learning to roll with the punches—and I have had many punches to roll with over the last week, let me tell you. Granted the things happening here aren't likely to affect the rest of my life, I would surmise that learning to have joie de vivre is a definite step in the right direction. In fact, that may just affect the rest of my life more than anything else.

Now, anyone want to see a picture of my super nasty blister?

Forget The Ending

2008-04-29T13:26:00.020-04:00

We all seem to be searching for that proverbial happy ending. The truth of the matter is, life is not a fairy tale. At times it resembles a romantic comedy, others a horror flick. Other times still it may appear like a long and drawn out documentary where you almost feel the need to check your own pulse. Regardless of genre, real life rarely ties up all its loose ends before the closing credits.

A common expression reminds us that it's not the destination but the journey that is important. Naturally I have always understood the fundamental concept, but oddly, I think now for the first time I finally get it. As in, really get it.

When I decided to address this topic my initial intent was conveying that happy endings don't just happen. We must produce them. Each life is far more than any particular moment; it is greater still than the sum of its parts because more valuable than the experiences themselves are our thoughts, feelings, and perceptions. How we perceive life will effect how we live it.

Yet upon further examination I pondered, “what is a happy ending?” For unlike a book with tangible parameters--a concise beginning and end--our lives are always in a state of metamorphosis, constantly changing and evolving. Is a happy ending judged merely by the state of our existence as we approach our final moments? Surely that is not what people spend their lives striving, worrying, and fighting so hard to achieve. Perhaps we should aspire for happy endings to our many different chapters, as opposed to narrowing our focus on the entire volume.

As happiness waxes and wanes throughout our life's story, some chapters will end well while others will not. It is the lessons we take from one chapter to help improve the next that provides a good and worthy script; a script that combined with the inevitable tribulations brims with many happy endings.

A great number of us spend far too much of our lifetime working toward a certain goal. Yet once reached and many years invested, then what? Either we stagnate on a disappointing plateau, or we set a new goal. This pattern accomplishes little more than to produce a vicious cycle. Like a dog chasing it's tail, you are constantly moving but never really getting anywhere. I certainly do not suggest that we avoid setting goals for ourselves, rather that they not become our primary objective. Sadly, people often get so focused on their accomplishments that all other facets of life become neglected. In our perpetual quest for happy endings it seems much of the time we overlook the greater meaning.

We should enjoy life like we do a good book that is thoroughly engrossing and rewarding to read. Imagine how the words come together painting a picture in your mind. You instinctively savor the images they conjure and the feelings they evoke. Obviously, it would be counterproductive to hurriedly skim the text in a race to reach your goal of getting to the end. The integrity of the story would be lost, negating the very reason to read it in the first place. One must appreciate the rich details and depth of character development in order to derive the significance of that very last sentence for it is irrelevant without the hundreds of pages preceding it. Likewise, in life, profundity does not rise from mediocrity.

Instead of considering my ailing marriage as a grievous conclusion to a major chapter, I am choosing to regard it as an opportunity for a happy beginning in the next installment. While I certainly don't know what direction my storyline will take, perhaps these past few years were merely preparation for the next chapter. Maybe my future chapters have even greater things in store than the tale I had envisioned. Maybe--just maybe--this unfortunate circumstance is truly a happy ending in disguise.

Only The Real Thing

2008-04-22T13:00:00.007-04:00

I am on a mission. This is no bargain hunt, either. Cheap imitations will not be accepted. Nor last resorts. Nor second-hand goods. It must be 100% authentic, for this is far too critical to settle for less. I am not out to find the best that has ever been. That would be an impossible quest. I am merely out to discover, and then implement, my best -- flawed and imperfect as it is. Regardless of quality, it must be genuine. It must be true.

I know that the path to self is a continuous one, forever winding and twisting until the moment of our final breath. However, I have recently covered a lot of distance in quite a short time and am closer than ever to me. The trail is hot with many clues and I can not afford to let it go cold.

Clearly, I am no longer the young girl who walked down the aisle over a decade ago. As I emerge from naive to painfully aware and self-confident, realizing my potential has become an important quest. One that I am not content with allowing anyone else, including societal roles, defining for me.

Unfortunately, I am currently suffering circumstances which impede my progress rendering my mission impossible. For where I presently reside there is too much stress and chaos to accomplish the task at hand—with so many distractions and influences bearing down on me right and left, I am unable to think clearly about the future. Informed and confident decisions are rarely made in the heat of battle; for that is when survival mode takes over. It is a shoot first, ask questions later mentality when you are in so deep that you can actually hear the bullets whizzing by your head. You don't know whether to duck, jump or dart because there is no time to think or analyze your next move. In survival mode, you are forced to act immediately and rather than strive for the best outcome, you simply hope to make it out alive.

In order to effectively strategize you must step off the battlefield, although mine is not inundated with loads of mass destruction, but rather an insidious form of warfare. Like many types of poisonous gas you can not detect it, yet you notice your health declining as the toxins slowly eat away at your vitality. You eventually become weak, exhausted and apathetic to the cause; even dangerously indifferent to your own survival.

It is additionally disheartening when it is one of your own delivering the poison which is slowly killing you. Even if they did not consciously intend you harm, it is their incessant carelessness and disregard for your well-being that has made it difficult for you to breathe. Ironically, and possibly the cruelest of all, while their actions were destroying your inner core they were simultaneously portraying themselves the victim. What audacity to blame you for your ailing spirit when it was they who supplied the source of your pain! As much as you would like to forgive, it is hard to accept apologies when they continue to demonstrate, and seemingly always will, this same reckless abandon to your health and vitality.

It is therefore difficult for me to see the bigger picture and accomplish my mission while among those same toxic fumes that clouded my vision and deteriorated my livelihood. I desperately need some fresh air so that I may gain a fresh perspective. For this reason, I am organizing a reprieve that will get me out of the war zone and afford me the opportunity to think--not just react. I do not want to get further down my path to look back and have regrets as a result of strategizing in survival mode. I want to not only survive, but to come out with a renewed zest for life. I want to not only be comfortable, but happy and proud to wear the skin I am in.

I plan to return energized and ready to make a fresh start, regardless of what that may be.

Life Or Limb

2008-04-12T16:17:00.034-04:00

I stand hovering at the edge of the cliff. I peer over to gage whether or not I feel I can make the jump. I'm not quite sure. Although it is a long way down it is the fear in not knowing what lies at the bottom of this infinitely vast canyon delaying my decision. Since I am, at least, too sensible to lunge in unpreparedly my maneuvers are done in a deliberate manner which will not only serve to buffer the fall, but will allow a way back up in the event that The Great Unknown turns out to be worse than my fate here on the cliff.

I haven't always been teetering. For even before living near the safe center of this plateau, I resided in a canyon similar to the one I currently regard so mysteriously. Back when my adulthood was still in its infancy, I had had to make the climb just to acquire the elevated flatland on which I now stand. Upon landing I was afforded a better view of my future than I had ever had and it seemed as though I had reached the top of the world.

At the onset I was shown a particularly favorable season and my naivety and optimism prevented me from questioning the longitude of those ideal conditions. I failed to realize that the sun god works his magic, shining extra brightly upon the arrival of a newcomer. Although he does not intend to deceive, he eventually becomes weary and can not afford the energy it takes to continue the act of always radiating such warmth. Now clouds too often cover what used to shine so frequently and the love I had found which inspired me to climb here in the first place, the love that once felt so pure and real and unconditional appears darker in the shadows where I am not so blinded by the magic of the sun's early light.

Although things naturally change and evolve, much of what was displayed was more illusion than reality. It has taken a long time before I looked beyond superficial appearances to realize that my mate who shows affection with a touch or a squeeze, lacks the deeper and more important functions of compassion. It's as if his vision of love developed from a gesture he had seen in a black and white snapshot.

It isn't entirely his fault, for his upbringing was one of great dysfunction where love was taught to be conditional, not absolute. Seeking his mother's affection he attempted to warm her cold and unpredictable state with a stroke or a hug, getting little in return. Yet, there comes a time in each life where personal responsibility must be taken for one's own shortcomings. Throughout our union, he has repeatedly allowed the very wolves that raised him to prey on me as they do him, while defending their predatory actions. No amount of pleading or desperation could save me. Any attempts I made at self-preservation were condemned and destroyed. Even in other instances when I have been victim to crime and misfortune he, my one partner in this land, he who claims to love me, has repeatedly denied aid as I lie begging for his helping hand. By leaving me to fend for myself even in my darkest hours, it has forced me to conjure up strength and find my resolve. Ironically, he lacked the foresight to predict that these very traits would serve to his detriment when I utilize them to make the leap from the cyclical fate of this linear plateau.

The most difficult part is that I have built my entire life upon this flatland. And while it has supplied a good resting place, render a lasting environment for growth and development, it does not. The stifling climate has limited my creativity and depleted my loving nature. My enthusiastic "what if's" have changed to regrettable '"if only's". I fear if I stay it will suck my spirit dry.

A more simple creature might be satisfied with nothing more than the shelter and stability provided. But I did not choose my mate solely for his capacity to successfully hunt and gather wood. Looking no deeper than this there are surely other hunters even more proficient that I could pursue. Yet I long for more. I long to live. I envision a land where the sun shines regularly and where there are other creatures who also appreciate that our short lives do not have to solely revolve around familiarity and responsibilities. I envision finding a soul who shares common ideals whilst enjoying the adventure of growth and discovery. Even before embarking with another, I envision further continuance of self exploration which will be enhanced by resuming sole responsibility over my life and making my own decisions--decisions which aren't affected by one who, as history has shown, frequently doles poor counsel. And I must redevelop my instincts which, when listened to, generally lead me in the right direction. Spending many years under the influence of one man's simplistic trains of thought has caused me to lose confidence in my ingenuity and resourcefulness.

Recently I did something slightly more than hover. Practicing some preliminary steps, I descended just far enough to gander into the dark abyss, watching for any obvious hazards should I jump. I first collected a piece of timber and ignited the end so I could illuminate, albeit scarcely, the land below. The unforgiving flames approaching my fierce grip on the makeshift torch ensured my viewing time was limited, but I bravely clutched it for as long as I was able--for in order to execute this plan, one must overcome a fear of getting burned. I was able to shed just enough light to reduce my anxieties and plot my next move. I know it is time to start strapping up, as I am not getting any younger.

I do not expect those who measure success in outward appearances or pride themselves in their practical nature to understand my plight. One may ask, why risk life or limb to venture to an unknown place that hints at possibilities but promises nothing?

A valid inquiry, yet I challenge the value of life and limb if your spirit is already gone.

Me & My Karma

2008-04-09T09:30:00.018-04:00

Amazingly, even on the brink of succumbing to my stress, I am told by an extremely reliable (albeit online) source that I have good karma! This test is scientifically sound, I am quite certain.

With the help of my emotional strength and my karma, I shall soon overcome my hardships. Now, pardon me, while I resume my meditations.

Your Karmic Alignment is: Zen Intuition!

My results:

Score: 15 You have a direct perception of truth. You are very keen and don't use it to take advantage. When you commit positive deeds, you don't do them to get ahead, you do positive deeds simply because it makes you feel good. Your intentions are almost always meant well and all this positive karmaic energy is bound to come back to you in a great way!

Forgive Me, Father, For I Have Grown

2008-04-08T14:43:00.005-04:00

Being a bit overwhelmed right now with the deck life is dealing me, my blogging life has temporarily taken a back seat to the issues which are presently front and center; hence, the infrequency of my recent posts. However, following suit to my last few writings, my focus today will instead be an entirely different personal struggle than the more pressing situations currently plaguing me.

As I have mentioned, there are very few in my life to whom I have expressed what I feel to be the truth about religion and Christianity. One of the people I envision being the most difficult to talk to about this is my father. My dad is quite conservative in nearly every aspect, religion and guns being no exception (which, by the way, I have always found to be an interesting combination of causes).

My father was very strict, to say the least. I don't believe it was by design, rather out of intolerance and a lack of patience. I spent much of my childhood hating him. Since then, his temper has retreated and he regularly expresses an appreciation for family. A few years ago he conveyed a heartfelt apology for the kind of father he had been. We now have a relationship based on respect and we both enjoy sharing and discussing our common interests. However, knowing the Christian mentality all too well, I have to wonder if he would accept and respect my personal ideals.

My sentiment is that any parent should be proud of a child who has developed a healthy and productive philosophy on life and who simply wishes for a better world, regardless of whether or not they hold “traditional” values. However, as we often hear, parents don't always show their children unconditional love when the child proves to take a different path than the parent would have chosen for them. Interestingly, I received an email from my dad this weekend regarding the death of Charlton Heston. In the email, among conveying his love for my brother and I, he included the famous man's most important life lessons.

“-Stay active and true to your beliefs.
-Guard your freedoms.
-Don't be afraid to take a stand.
-Family and friends are important.
-Don't forget your mentors.
-Your values WILL change as you get older, that's a part of life. -Strive for self-improvement... ALWAYS.
-Above all... KEEP YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR...especially when faced with extreme difficulty or when times are darkest.”

I must wonder if, by this message, my dad is encouraging us to stay active and true to our beliefs, or to his beliefs—as, at least for me, there is a huge distinction between the former and the latter. Now that he has opened the door, metaphorically speaking, I do not foresee a better opportunity to “take a stand” and share my beliefs with him.

I Wish...

2008-04-01T22:20:00.013-04:00

I wish that I were wrong. I really do. While there's an element of satisfaction in having certain contentions confirmed, the greater truth is that it really does dishearten me that there isn't more honesty, more open discussion and more objective analysis involved in what are some of the most prevalent issues of our time. I wish more people would engage a realistic perspective in order to formulate realistic solutions to the modern concerns that plague American society, instead of blindly rattling off impractical ideals which developed two millennia ago in a vastly different time and place; or worse, neglecting that the issues exist at all because they do not coalesce with their preconceived notions. I wish more could realize the wrong-doing in their judgmental behaviors and realize how their attitudes too often forsake the very principles they so fervently claim to deem above all else.

I also wish to emphasize that I by no means classify each and every Christian to impose the issues I address. Whereas nearly every person I know, including many friends and nearly all of my family are Christians, I absolutely do not contend that they are a conglomerate of bad, malicious people! I merely wish there was more awareness to the undeniable effects religion has on the world, its societies, and its individuals. While I respect and understand those who find comfort in the spirituality religion provides them, what I will never understand is how so many are able to justify manipulating their belief system to fit their behavior, as opposed to the other way around. Disguising arrogant self-righteousness in a pious concern for non-Christians only fools fellow members of the faith.

Personally, I believe that good Christians are simply good people who practice Christianity. I do not believe Christianity breeds good people. I do expect that most individuals follow their faith for the right intentions; however, it is an unfortunate reality that many become brainwashed in their quest for answers and pursuit for peace. This is a multi-faceted phenomenon, but one contributing element is the inherent trust that is unquestioningly rendered to religious figures. Religious figures may be well-spoken, motivational, and many times sincere, but are nevertheless human and therefore biased by personal opinions and interpretations. Yet whether their message is right or wrong, they possess the uncanny ability to spin their words in a way which hypnotizes the congregation into obedience.

Another facet contributing to individuals becoming unwittingly conditioned is the practice of continually repeating the same ideas. Repetition is a proven persuasion method, which is often utilized in advertising because of it's effectiveness. As we repeatedly hear the same message again and again, we slowly begin to accept it as truth, especially when surrounded by like-minded people. With continuous exposure since birth to the same ideas, and little to no introduction to any other ideology, it is no wonder many people cling so tightly to their religious convictions.

On that note, I never set out to find hypocrisy in the church. I didn't want to find holes in the theories, or inconsistencies in the practices or sexist ideals in nearly every facet of the scripture. For heaven's sake, that was my foundation. That was everything I was taught to hold sacred and dear. I didn't just wake up one morning and decide to strip my Christian label, hence leaving myself out in the cold with few to turn to. As of today, there are less than a handful of people in my life who know how I truly feel.

As a result of the notable lack in religious diversity in this country, religious tolerance is also in short supply. People discovering that they are able to find fulfillment outside of Christianity tend to be grossly misunderstood. The Christian community is not reputed for it's gracious acceptance toward an individual who no longer wishes to pursue the religion. Resulting from this, as well as the previously mentioned multitude of circumstances, it commanded nearly half of my life and a great deal of soul-searching to deprogram myself from the immense guilt that I was conditioned to suffer for thinking that possibly this isn't the one and only truth prevailing over the universe!

I wish the devout, as well as the not-so, would understand that although I have stripped myself of the Christian label, I am no less valuable, no less moral, no less compassionate than I ever was. In fact, the only things that have changed within me have been for the better, such as a cultivation of awareness and acceptance.

I do confess. I, too used to have a preconceived notion about non-believers. I thought they were either ignorant or simply being defiant--rebels without a cause who just weren't interested in seeing the good in the world. In hindsight, I am flabbergasted at what an unfair, ignorant attitude that is! While I can't speak for all others, I know that my reasons for evolving into agnosticism are pure, sound, well thought out, and well-intentioned. In actuality, the logic is the very opposite of what fundamentalists would tend to argue. Contrary to Christian perceptions, I have not “lost my way.” I have found my way. For it isn't about rejection; it is about acceptance. It is about discovering what I believe to be a more rational, tolerant and healthier way of living. I have realized that without the parameters, rules, and bureaucracy of religion, I am able to live a better life—one with less prejudice, less condemnation, less hypocrisy, and all-around more joy. In the ultimate irony, by removing myself from the cult of Christianity, I am now able to live in a manner which more closely resembles the advocation of Christ.

My wish now is that others would appreciate and honor my convictions.

Thou Shall Not Waste Thy Pity On Me

2008-03-27T14:13:00.015-04:00

Of the many inaccurate notions a fair number of Christians tend to subject onto others, this may be one of the more bothersome. I find it egocentric, insulting, ironic, unfounded and yes, even humorous.

The practice in question is the one in which a Christian becomes stricken with sadness upon the discovery of some lost soul who is lacking the guidance of Christ. Firstly, I was curious if their pity targets all non-Christians, including followers of other faiths, or if it is merely the non-believers they feel sorry for. However, as I pondered the topic more thoroughly, it occurred to me that the distinction is a moot point. The bottom line remains the same.

I sincerely have great difficulty fathoming the narrow-mindedness of this phenomenon. It is indisputably egotistical to assume that just because something is paramount in one's life, the same is inevitably true for others. It is a warped and dangerous ideology, indeed, when one is so thoroughly conditioned that they are ignorant to any perception outside their own.

For example, it is no less ridiculous for a Christian to be sad when another person doesn't derive joy from Christianity than it is for me to grieve for someone whose life is not enriched by the pleasure of photography. Applying the same tunnel vision I could argue, “seeing the world through the eye of a lens enhances life in so many ways that it makes me sad for those who don't experience it's joys.” Likewise, you could apply it to anyone who has chosen different means for fulfillment. Such as someone who has chosen not to have children. Or not to join the country club. Or has no appreciation for the opera. For just as one man's trash is another man's treasure, one woman's misery is another woman's joy. Ultimately, every human being wants for the same thing: to be healthy and happy. Why would anyone concern themselves with the manner in which others use to accomplish this, so long as no one else suffers as a result?

In that regard, thou shall not waste thy pity on me, for I hath not wasted my pity on thou. Although I find the relentless persistence in the pursuit to convince the world to adopt Christianity's insubstantial theories to be a trite pathetic, I personally, reserve sadness for more appropriate recipients. I experience sorrow for the helpless victims of abuse, disease, war, and poverty. I shudder at the thought of abused and neglected children, and mothers with chronically ill babies, and people whose lives have been destroyed by war—a war all too often fought for faith. However, I find no rhyme or reason in affording heartache for the choices made by witting adults.

So, if any Christian wish take pity on my soul, they may wallow in their sorrow. I would only imagine there are many more grievous circumstances to better occupy their hearts.

Contrary to the dark veil they envision looming overhead, I am no less "complete" without religion! In fact, I continue to grow more enlightened and fulfilled the more I learn about myself and the world as a result of overcoming my Christian conditioning and it's bureaucratic double-standards. I am not lost without divine leadership. I am not less of a person. I am not the one missing the bigger picture. Those of us who have 20/20 vision unclouded by religious hypocrisy and propaganda do not suffer from it's absence--hence the very reason we choose not to incorporate it into our lives. I, myself, consider it a tragedy that so many individuals are unable to find a greater purpose without the doctrine of a supernatural deity guiding their way to a rewarding afterlife. Having the strength to acknowledge that my life is not the product of a predetermined course demands that I embody the integrity to accept that my behavior, as well as my happiness, are my own responsibility. For me, it makes no sense to trust such critical matters to anyone else, especially to one of a hypothetical nature.

Along with the presumption that faith brings joy and happiness, it is suggested time and again that religion is a valuable means in cultivating morals; however, real-world studies show that religion actually has the contrary effect! In fact, non-religious countries have the lowest crime rates on earth. Norway, a highly secular nation, where only 10% of the population identify themselves as Christian, has been rated the most peaceful country in the world by the Global Peace Index. The Human Development Index, a similar measure of life expectancy, literacy, education and standard of living, has ranked Norway No. 1 every year for the last five years.

In addition to the aforementioned statistics, Gregory Paul acquired data from 18 developed democracies, comparing the correlation of societal health to religiosity and secularism. Here is what he found:

"In general, higher rates of belief in and worship of a creator correlate with higher rates of homicide, juvenile and early adult mortality, STD infection rates, teen pregnancy, and abortion…None of the strongly secularized, pro-evolution democracies is experiencing high levels of measurable dysfunction.” Within the United States “the strongly theistic, anti-evolution South and Midwest” have “markedly worse homicide, mortality, STD, youth pregnancy, marital and related problems than the Northeast where…secularization approaches European norms”. His conclusion asserted that, “the more secular, pro-evolution democracies…come closest to achieving practical “cultures of life”.” *

For all those still clinging to the myth that religion serves to better humanity, simply take a moment and think in terms of how religion has actually, not perceivably, affected the world throughout history. If you do this honestly, you will envision a great deal of religious-rooted violence which has gone on as long as religion itself, predating recorded history, all the way up to the ongoing tragedies of today which are being carried out as you read these very words. Thousands of years of conflict, hate, genocide, terrorism and millions upon millions of senseless deaths...all in the name of God! There is not enough good in this world to justify the grief and horror caused by religion alone.

The math is elementary. When you add up the total assets and deficits gained and lost, it becomes painfully evident that the net worth of religion is anything but profitable. Forgo your biases, and chew on that.

Now, please remind me. Who is it the Christians feel sorry for?

* Gregory Paul – The Journal of Religion and Society, volume 7
http://moses.creighton.edu/JRS/2005/2005-11.html

My First-Ever Peep Show

2008-03-20T16:59:00.019-04:00

I admit to enjoying feeling seductive at times.

However, I am actually more naive than most people would probably expect.

Heck, I've never even been to a strip club! Never experienced XXX, Live! Nude! Girls! The closest thing I've seen to anything remotely "dirty" is the lame cop that inevitably arrives to every bachelorette party.

Until a couple of days ago, when I received this image via email displaying none other than a rather graphic peep show.

I'm afraid I must confess, it looks pretty damn *sweet*!

What do you think?

Live CHICKS and Playboy BUNNIES!

If that isn't some sweet pole action, I don't know what is!

Ra Ra Sis Boom Ba, Go Jesus!

2008-03-16T16:39:00.017-04:00

I'm practicing my display of good sportsmanship. I have recently been informed by a reader of one of my articles that I lack this quality, also known as fair-mindedness and good character, if I uphold my personal right to freedom of religion by not subscribing myself to literature which advocates Christ as our Savior.

This message was insinuated in a comment that was left on my post entitled My Sunday Sermon: Modern Mythology. Naturally (and involuntarily) brought up as Christian (as are most individuals born and raised in the United States) this post gave an honest and personal account detailing my moment of epiphany that forever altered my perceptions regarding religion. I didn't “abandon” god out of malice or disappointing life events. In fact, I have even spent years in denial regarding my agnosticism. My views evolved as a result of the parallels between Christianity and ancient mythology--in comparing modern beliefs versus obsolete. The move toward rejecting religion to guide my life was merely a result of my maturation and learning to think for myself. It is truly a shame that Christians so often feel threatened by this practice.

In truth I did not abandon a god at all, for the only thing I feel there is to abandon is a fictitious ideology. In the end, “We are all atheists about most of the gods that humanity has ever believed in. Some of us just go one god further.” I find this to be a very powerful statement, as Christians not only reject polytheistic religions, but any god which is not “their” god. Even the religions that theoretically glorify the same deity no doubt do it wrong--so long as Jesus is not at the helm their efforts and sacrifices are in vain!

Or, so say the fair-minded Christians.

I received several comments to my Modern Mythology post including additional insights, shows of support, and even probes into my thoughts, all of which provided an interesting perspective. In each response, whether or not the submitter agreed with my position it was evident that they had read the post with fair and thoughtful consideration. That is until I received a comment with a Christian prescription. As if it promised to be just the cure for my agnostic ailments, he advertised, “Just for YOU!“

Before concluding his solicitation for me to read The Case For Christ, he commanded, “be a good sport!”

Be a good sport? Am I missing something here? Am I somehow indebted to his team? Obviously this individual knew that it would not be an easy sale to convince the author of the aforementioned post to oblige his request; therefore, he tried a common persuasion technique used in advertising by attempting to undercut my integrity for failure to buy what he's selling.

Here is my formal response:

“I have been a good sport for all of my 33 years! I have spent my time in Sunday school. I have spent my time on mission trips. I have spent my time reading the bible and listening to sermons and biting my tongue as dogmatic hypocrisy is spewed all around me. And I continue to exemplify good sportsmanship each and every day by respecting others' right to believe as they choose.

Now, what have you done to be a good sport?

Have you objectively considered an alternative to your beliefs? Have you accepted that there is no right or wrong religious doctrine? Do you accept others' rights to believe as they choose and respect their boundaries to be free from futile attempts, like yours, to convince them otherwise?

If you, sir, are man enough to be a good sport, check out religioustolerance.org.”

Now, Ra Ra Sis Boom Ba, Go Open Your Minds!

I Can't Like Mean Girls

2008-03-10T18:13:00.029-04:00

In considering an adjective for this title, I knew I had a responsibility to be accurate and concise. After all, when airing grievances in a manner accessible to every soul who has access to the Internet, rational people know better than to indiscriminately throw unfavorable words around. It is especially advisable to heed caution when the word in question is “mean” and the objects it modifies live nearby.

I therefore consulted my faithful online reference which provided several definitions for “mean,” all of which faultlessly fit the bill when describing these loathsome ladies. The first entry: “selfish in a petty way; unkind.” Marveling at the accuracy thus far, I continued, “cruel, spiteful, or malicious.” I nodded in accord. My source went on to list half of a dozen other descriptions including, but not limited to, “offensive, troublesome, selfish, unaccommodating, nasty.” Yes! We have a winner! May the record reflect that this qualifier was meticulously chosen.

On that note, I really hate mean people. A lot. And bullies, they especially suck. Lurking in halls and on playgrounds of schools, they scope out victims to taunt, torment, and intimidate. Although there was the occasional jerk who pestered me as a child, oddly enough, I was never truly bullied until adulthood. By the time you're married, have children, and are socializing with other demographically similar people, you would never expect to materialize as someone's mission to seek and destroy. Particularly, when the destroyer is somebody you considered a friend. Of course, we all come to realize at one time or another, that life rarely follows along as expected.

Before I begin detailing my four year stint moonlighting as a mad woman's destroy toy, let's go back about, oh, twenty years or so and revisit the mid-80's when I was in grade school--I promise I will write you back to the future, so forget about the DeLorean already. Back in the days of the Michaels J. Fox and Jackson, I lived on Arrowhead Drive. Kelly's house was on the adjacent C-shaped street which happened to intersect with mine at two points, thereby earning the name Arrowhead Circle. A mean girl by trade, Kelly was far from nice to anyone, although her appearance wouldn't have lent one to believe she had any business pointing out others' imperfections. For starter's (although unfair things by which to measure someone), being several pounds overweight and wearing glasses didn't exactly earn her any popularity points. And since it had a mind of it's own, her unruly blond hair must have demanded all of her brain function. I never understood what she hoped to accomplish by name calling; it seemed even more counter-intuitive considering she was the poster-child for a good comeback. I realize, in hindsight, that it must have been her own lack of esteem, and possibly a less than ideal family life that provoked her hateful behavior.

Many of us have something about our appearance we wish we could change--something we hope others don't notice, or at least won't point out. The magnitude of the imperfection is not necessarily indicative of the impact it has on our self-confidence. In school more than anywhere else, so much importance is placed on conformity and the perfect ideal that it sadly represses individuality. I personally endured insecurities throughout elementary school for two reasons: Firstly, I was taller than most of my classmates and, secondly, because one of my eyes failed to choose a single color to represent. I claim to having blue eyes, although my right iris is markedly sixty percent brown. Despite it no longer embarrassing me, at the time I may as well have had an extra thumb. It isn't immediately detectable at first glance, but I was never spared the moment of discovery due to the sudden gasp and the litany of questions that ensued.

Kelly was one year ahead of me, so luckily I never had the misfortune of sharing a classroom and the neighborhood with her. I remember going to her house just one time. Although she had practically begged me to come over, she insisted on choosing everything we did, further reinforcing my dislike for her. I ran out of patience when she ordered me to have the ugly Barbie, the likes of which had obviously been awarded a less-than-professional haircut. What hair did remain was so stiff, pointy and unkempt, this doll's coiffure resembled a collection of giant-size nose clippings. How was I ever to acquire Ken's affections displaying this second-rate sleaze while Kelly proudly flaunted a silky-haired bombshell? Fed up with the shenanigans, I left to go home, despite her pleas otherwise.

The next day at school she approached me during lunch, seemingly miffed that I had prematurely departed the festivities the previous day. Attempting to humiliate me, she raised her voice and shot straight for my Achilles heel. “Why is your eye like that?” she loudly interrogated. Without hesitation, I simply countered, “why are you fat like that?” She subsequently retreated, appearing to have regretted her inquiry. Two can play this game, I thought.

I know. I know. An eye for an eye is so Old Testament. Yet you must admit that when it comes to mean girls, even the smallest vindication can do wonders for the soul. In hindsight, I have yearned for those days of simplicity, back when you could resolve conflict with a petty one-liner.

Not having encountered such characters since grade school, I was blind-sided to have stumbled upon an entire herd of bullies right here in the Tar Heel State residing in all-too-close proximity to me. I don't contend that the state itself breeds them, as most aren't native to the area. You may remember Mad Cow and Nutcake, the bovine and the tart, who provide for very rotten neighbors and regrettably live on either side of me. Yet, as undesirable as the these two are, they serve as mere appetizers for today's special. Please take a seat and allow me to introduce you to: The Vulture. With the surname of Byrd and a predatory personality, this moniker lends a flawless characterization.

When we relocated four years ago, a number of other employees also transferred from the same city, including my husband's boss and new wife, The Vulture (that's right―lucky freaking me). We immediately developed a bond with several of the families, including theirs and Nutcake's and I felt incredibly fortunate to have this built-in network. Initially, we were all quite close, and spending many holidays together even commenced a few annual traditions. Our Thanksgiving celebrations were such a blast it gave me something entirely new to be thankful for. We enjoyed some great parties, without a doubt. Practically a family, four of us women inadvertently became the KC Girls, referring to our previous place of residence.

Sadly, the serenity did not forever last, as the KC gang was doomed to failure even prior to it's establishment. Leading to it's demise, Nutcake and The Vulture collectively comprised 50%, constituting half of the flock clinically unstable. For the record, nobody has ever questioned that Nutcake is nutty. She wears crazy on her sleeve like white on rice, and apparently for that reason, people tend to put up with her egocentricities and crassness. Although both narcissistic, the Vulture is an entirely different species. Much more insidious and clever in her manipulations, her unpredictable behavior teeters precariously on the brink of violence, making her a very dangerous breed. At the root of her evil lies an intense hunger for conflict and control. As a master manipulator, she sees others only for what benefit they may provide and, not unlike a game of chess, strategically plays them like pawns.

For reasons which I am still not privy to, she quickly singled me out as the designated recipient of her bullying. Probably this, combined with her grossly competitive nature, is why she chose to implicate my child into her twisted plot. Hoping to lure me into a sadistic tug-of-war, she repeatedly fabricated lies about my daughter. She preceded each tale with a very conniving, “I'm not trying to start trouble, but...” Along with being false, the claims were extremely petty and nonsensical to say the least.

Apparently having foiled all her previous attempts by not reacting in the hostile manner she was expecting to invoke, she decided to step it up a notch. One particular Friday I was going to be throwing a party and was expecting several families, including hers, over that night. The morning of the scheduled event, she called to inform me that her daughter would miss most of the party due to another function. Then she announced that they were also taking the other girls attending our party―all the girls, that is, except for mine. My daughter, who had been looking forward to these girls coming over for weeks, and who had never been anything but soft-spoken and polite to The Vulture, was being used as a pawn in this dysfunctional mind-game. Rather than commence an ugly confrontation, I expressed disappointment on my child's behalf, and quickly ended the conversation. As I sat there stunned, and only moments after hanging up, the phone rang again. No sooner had I answered before The Vulture swooped in on me like a raving lunatic with an intensity I have never before or since endured from anyone. In a fit of rage she informed me that she is going to invite whomever she wants to go with her daughter, and no body has the right to make her feel guilty about it! In her purely evil dialect, this foul fowl then proceeded to rant on about a myriad of other self-serving quests. Having been ambushed into a state of shock, I can honestly not recall how long it all lasted or in what manner it came to an end.

Later that day she put on her acting cloak, and at the strong advisement of her husband, pretended to apologize. Wanting to believe it was sincere, I accepted. However, this display of hatefulness was merely the opening act in her pattern of sabotaging anything in which she is not the center. Over the last few years, I have endured a great many more trials and tribulations at the talons of this carnivorous creature, for The Vulture is a mean girl that far too much enjoys the limelight to retire her performances.

This, my friends (and I do not use that term loosely), is the first chapter in my chronicles illustrating why I just can't like mean girls.

Another Day From Hell

2008-03-06T20:17:00.010-05:00

Now, don't get too cozy just yet. Before you get settled, I want to warn you that this promises not to be one of my more well-written rants. That is because I am writing it in the heat of the moment. Even worse, I'm doing the unthinkable and typing it directly into my blog as opposed to creating it in a word document. Yep, it's that kind of post.

For starters, I just got back from making an emergency beer and cookie dough run. I rarely make runs. In truth, I guess it's not so much that I never need a beer and cookie night, than it is more because we usually have beer on hand and, if truly desperate, my husband offers to get the cookie dough (usually as a form of redemption for whatever he did to put me in the mood in the first place). But we are out of beer and he is upstairs sleeping through the chaos that has brought me to my current state. Just so you know, I don't eat the dough straight up--I do actually bake it into cookies. I'm one of the only people I know who actually prefers the end product to it's raw form. Anyway, considering I haven't had lunch or dinner, I should be in a much better mood by the time I finish a honey lager. Being too busy to have eaten is probably one of the major factors contributing to my foul mood.

Back to my bad day. Luckily, I have had one of those days that, although it was one big piece of crap, it was the kind that I'll probably be able to laugh at in the near future. Maybe even tomorrow. Maybe even by the time I finish my beer.

Nope. Not laughing yet.

I could have claimed a sucky day based on the first half alone after hauling someone's ass back and forth for a procedure. A procedure that was not even discussed with me prior to signing on, and that requires me to be a chauffeur to more appointments in 24 hours than should be allowed by law. And this is just week one. I'll spare the details, but if you've ever known anyone who has had lenses implanted into their eyes so that they don't have to wear contacts anymore, you may know the never-ending string of events that is involved.

Of course, the commotion couldn't have just ended there. I have also had the night from hell. I abandoned the post I was working on that was supposed to go on today in order to cook several different things to appease the troops (which I normally don't do), and cleaned up even more messes than foods I prepared from off the floor. Then just when I thought things had settled down enough to call a friend back, I made the mistake of returning to the kitchen where I thought the children were finishing up the meals I had prepared them. But what do I find? My nine-year-old had taken one of the hard-boiled eggs I had just made and unshelled, and was standing in the middle of the kitchen squishing it in her fist, watching it ooze all over the floor! OMG,WTF? Is she out of her too-smart-for-her-own-good mind?

Because of this ghastly sight, I again had to abruptly end my all-too-short phone call. I called her back a while later, but when my second phone's battery died, I decided it wasn't meant to be since I had already cut my phone conversation short once due to my other phone's battery failure--and twice because of my kids! I assured my friend that if I was still alive and not imprisoned, I would call her tomorrow. Oh, but not in the morning because you-know-who has another follow-up appointment I get the privilege of driving him to.

Just then my son decided he didn't like his dinner and wanted something else, my middle daughter told me she felt like she was going to throw up, and two of our four toilets were backed up. Not to mention, the phone kept ringing off the hook, although I only had two minutes to talk before it died again. After cleaning egg off the floor for the umpteenth time (don't ask), I went into the laundry room and discovered a forgotten load of towels that had been sitting in the washer since yesterday. Yep. Smelled like ass.

Oh, that reminds me. I need to go switch the laundry over. How is it that I still have housework after midnight? I think I blog too much.

My Sunday Sermon: Modern Mythology

2008-02-25T01:33:00.012-05:00

It took years to cultivate, but I distinctly remember when the seed of religious doubt was planted within me. I was in the cradle of my youth, a sophomore in high school, when we examined Greek and Roman mythology in my Honors English class. I found the study culturally intriguing, yet ironically parallel to present times. These bygone civilizations, not unlike contemporary ones, placed the utmost reverence into superstitious deities who possessed unearthly powers. Several of my fellow Honors students found foolishness in these fictional far-fetched fables. Yet, what I found interesting was how the same intellectuals who mercilessly mocked mythology on Monday, mindlessly spent Sunday singing sappy sanctimonious songs.

Then I had an epiphany: it suddenly occurred to me that we super-intelligent present-day humans have done nothing more than reject one form of mythology to adopt another. How were the ancient mythological teachings any more preposterous than biblical ones? Mythology is defined as a body of stories held true by a particular culture which use the supernatural to decode the nature of the universe and humanity. Therefore, theistic theory is even more absurd today because we now have the scientific evidence revealing the answers to the mysteries that religion was originally created to explain!

In the 5^th century BC once philosophy, history and rationalism began to take hold, poets and playwrights set about revising the myths to coalesce with new concepts and theories. It has been 2,600 years since radical philosophers began calling the tales comprising Greek mythology blasphemous lies. Although considered rebels at the time, they were eventually recognized for their unconventional theories and revered for exposing objective consideration as a necessary element in advancing societal ideals.

Yet, over two millennia later, traditionalists continue to repeat history. As science advances, Christians react in one of two ways. Negating any legitimacy to their claims whatsoever, they can simply reject scientific evidence and theories, such as the wacky fundamentalists who refute the existence of dinosaurs. Going this route is unwise, for in propagating such gibberish, they risk the threat of extinction. The more practiced alternative is to manipulate biblical passages to better fit a modern, scientifically consistent interpretation. This is why the bible's ambiguity is essential in maintaining it's credibility.

Minimizing the impact of scientific inconsistencies, any Christian will tell you that their loyalty is built upon faith, not proof. Of course it is! For without faith religion would cease to exist! Naturally, followers of ancient mythology believed in their traditions as whole-heartedly as current Christians, Jews, or Muslims. People are susceptible to discrediting logic in order to adopt faith because religion serves to ease concerns and provide a purpose to our lives. Moreover, it is inferred that by developing faith in light of what is tangible and scientific, one achieves even greater holiness.

I have yet to hear a compelling theistic argument worthy of my convictions. Personally, I find biblical tales and legends of Zeus equally entertaining. Nevertheless, just as in ancient times, modern mythologies serve a purpose to those who endorse them. In evaluating the purpose, one must consider that attempting to live a righteous existence is one thing; religious fanaticism is entirely another. I am genuinely intrigued how people can advocate one faith unequivocally, yet simultaneously reject the validity of all other religions throughout history. Spirituality is a very personal thing, and should be respected as such. Looking objectively, we can see that building societies on the foundation of fables and superstition only hinders progress for a more unified world.

My Impassioned Little Activist

2008-02-22T17:57:00.033-05:00

...And Her Priceless Lesson in Politics

My nine year old daughter came home from school yesterday all fired up. And how. Apparently they had discussed global warming in her Advanced Learners class. I love that she gets so passionate about causes and genuinely cares about important issues. Unfortunately, she hasn't developed the ability to keep it from consuming her. She is urging me to buy 50% more groceries when I go to the store to cut down on the number of trips I make. I already go as rarely as humanly possible, so the hard part would be coming up with even more things to buy as meal-planning is not one of my strengths. I'm afraid the means to accomplish her end would be our family going hungry every other week. And I'm all for bike-riding, however, considering our neighborhood is tucked away between other tucked away neighborhoods, I'm not so sure that it is a practical means to save on gas.

She also informed me that it only takes 5% of the cost, as well as the resources that cause pollution, to produce a recycled can as opposed to a new one. And at this rate, the outer banks of North Carolina (the state we reside in) will be below sea level within 100 years. She additionally mentioned that in my great grand-children's lifetimes the Statue of Liberty will also be submerged and Alaskan polar bears will be extinct. This child has become a spreadsheet for environmental statistics. I haven't confirmed these projections, but she is rarely wrong about these things.

So, she's all impassioned about global warming and how to get the word out about it. I told her that many people are concerned and have been spreading the word. I also explained how many forms of advertising, which is what you are essentially doing by disseminating a message, cost a lot of money. We talked about methods of reaching large audiences such as billboards and commercials. Seeing she had a bunch of pinned up energy, I told her to go implement a creative outlet for her frustration by writing or drawing something that expressed how she felt about it. She came down with an adorable poster she drew advocating good environmental choices. Then I realized a way for to do her little part in spreading her message. She could make a poster that we could put in a window of our vehicle and it could serve as a traveling billboard. I explained that it would be special since it is a child's plea imploring others to save the earth.

Since almost everyone has heard of global warming she couldn't understand why more wasn't being done to stop it. I had to break it to her that there are a lot of people who don't believe it's a legitimate problem. Many people in the government refuse to give it any priority. That's why it is important to vote for people who care about the issues we care about. She said, “who wouldnRt care about it? Who wouldn't care about the earth and the polar bears?” I decided to be frank. “They're called Republicans,” I gently explained. “Do you want to know who DOES care about it?” She nodded up and down. “Democrats,” I plainly stated, then added, “but this is only one issue of many, so we need to know everything a person stands for before deciding where to place our vote. However, the people that care about the environment are most likely going to care about similar issues I do, although it's never that cut and dry. We have to choose the person who will fight for the most issues that are the most important to us.”

Looking puzzled she inquired, “who would be a Republican?”

"Your father.”

"But why?”

"That I really can't answer, but it has something to do with taxes. And probably the war on terror.”

"Huh?”

"Oh, and the Axis of Evil. Yet, considering Republicans are more concerned with allocating money to military strategies than medical breakthroughs, I would say they are the Axis of Evil.”

"Does that have anything to do with the glaciers melting?”

"What? Oh! No. Never mind. I was just thinking out loud. Why don't you go finish making your poster to put in my car.”

And she did. My little, sweet, bleeding-heart liberal. God, I love her.

My New Mindset...I Hope it Sticks

2008-02-22T13:48:00.002-05:00

As many of you may know, I have been struggling with relationship issues for a while now. I think I officially hit rock-bottom a couple of nights ago. I laid down in bed and didn't get up for hours, not even realizing how late it had gotten. I missed dinner time, homework time, all that. I didn't even sleep; I just laid there, miserable.

Then last night, the final nail was secured in the coffin. When my 'husband' failed to heed what I had discussed with him in the morning, the reality of the situation struck me. Hard. I didn't learn anything new, or find any new insight. It was more a confirmation of everything I've known for awhile. Now I have found the fury. The anger. The disgust. But I know I have to let that go because it is only harmful to me.

Here's the optimistic news: By being pushed over that hump I had been teetering on, I am developing a new outlook. It is simply astonishing that changing the perception of one simple belief has the power to affect our resolve. I know that I will still waver, and suffer from doubt. I also know that there will be a grieving period. But I must remind myself that although my current life is dying, a new life will be reborn. The one simple phrase that has helped me believe I can do this, is to consider it an adventure. I've always been a sucker for adventure, and I guess my subconscious finally realized that this would be the best tactic to use.

Of course, my MissAdventuresAbroad blog should be enough to remind me that adventures don't always go as planned. Yet, how do we grow and learn if we don't ever take risks?

Okay, So It Wasn't A Real Award

2008-02-16T13:35:00.003-05:00

I apologize if I was misleading in my "First Love" post from Valentine's Day. I realize, in hindsight, I was a little too ambiguous. It was not an actual award, merely a thoughtful gesture from a loyal reader. It was still sweet and appreciated, though!

I may never receive an award if I fail to use any control and post what I've been yearning to write about. I've been having lots of 'stirring' sexual feelings, and since I use writing as an outlet...well, you get the idea. I don't want to offend anyone with sexually laden material, but then again, I do give fair warning that this is not the blog for prude traditionalists. Besides, I personally find it offensive that society has made sexuality a 'dirty' thing when it is a completely natural and enjoyable part of life.

Hey, a girl's got to express herself. Consider yourself warned.

A Chronic Case of Wanderlust

2008-02-15T13:00:00.017-05:00

Wanderlust-n. A very strong or irresistible impulse to travel.

I suffer from a chronic condition. It does go into remission briefly a couple of times a year, but unfortunately, the cure is only temporary. Shortly after receiving the only drug curable to treat this disease, which is to get up and go, my wanderlust begins to flare up again. Here is why traveling is my only cure:

My endeavor to live life to the fullest is greatly aided in my pursuit to explore some of the amazing places earth has to offer. Experiencing the world beyond these familiar corridors is paramount to my vitality. Perhaps a fusion of curiosity, intuition and fascination lead to my affinity to travel. Much of it is the novelty of seeing diverse people, places and things. One thing is absolute: enchanting culture, alluring architecture, and unique experiences generate new insights not found in the comfort of conventional surroundings.These elements together are unequivocally the best means to replenish my sense and sensibility.

I think it's time for a trip. If you haven't done so, visit my MissAdventures Abroad blog which recounts the musings and mishaps I've encountered while indulging my soul. Some are humorous, and some just suck. As much trouble as I occasionally endure, I wouldn't trade a single one for having stayed home instead.

My First Love

2008-02-14T18:09:00.007-05:00

Yay, me! Today, I received my first blog love (which just so happens to be my first blog award of any kind). What a nice Valentine's sentiment. I had just been lamenting how Valentine's Day is really rather stupid--just a manufactured holiday to generate revenue. I would rather be showered on my birthday because that's at least personal, or an anniversary because that has sentimental value, or Mother's Day because that recognizes the hard work I invest year-round.

Perhaps I am just a Valentine's scrooge. But then I got this. Maybe I just needed to feel loved to appreciate February 14th.

With token appreciation, I humbly accept this award. I would like to thank the people (okay, fermentedfur) who made this award possible. I promise not to let it go to my head. There isn't room, anyway.

So, on this Valentine's Day, I hereby encourage each and every one of you to go forth and make love by planting it's seed in somebody you care about!

(Man, if only I had a bigger following. I would love to do a study and find out if there's a blogging baby boom next November)

Fatal Obsession

2008-02-13T15:26:00.021-05:00

In the four years since moving 1,000 miles east of where I spent my first 28 years, I have lived more freaking drama than Teri Hatcher in an entire season of “Desparate Housewives.” For whatever reason, I have been afflicted by several manipulative and narcisistic people. To my misfortune, two of them are my next-door neighbors. It makes for a very uncomfortable sandwich, indeed, sitting between two pieces of cold, white bread. If you have read my Neighbor from Hell post, you've already been introduced to Mad Cow. The other one, Nutcake, possesses severe OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder). Since our husbands work together, we moved here at the same time from the same city. We began as friends. At times, I would even say great friends. We went to dinner frequently, hung out with the same people, and spoke almost daily (of course, the conversation always revolved around her). Being so far away from our extended families, we even celebrated many holidays together with the rest of our “circle.” Those were the good times.

Her OCD isn't about compulsively cleaning or engaging in repeated hand-washing. That I could easily deal with. She is consumed with control. In essence, her narcisism is what drives her obsessive-compulsive behavior and vice-versa. Sadly, her devotion to her husband and son is more fixation than love. To her, they are nothing more than extensions of herself, and she treats them as her personal property. She has been to psychologists, but quickly abandons them. She has taken medication but quits, because it alters her sense of control over her tightly-woven universe. She hates her condition, yet is not willing to change.

If you can imagine the drama and instability in a 'friendship' with someone like this, it does not paint a pretty picture.

There was no argument or falling out between us. The excuse she manifested to quit talking to me perfectly portrays the severity of her delusions of grandeur. Since world revolves around obsession, she absurdly claimed that I was consumed with her.This is quite ironic since she was calling me 80% of the time. She told people I was spying on her from my house and was trying to keep tabs on her at all times. Since I was allegedly stalking her, she reported to a friend that she didn't want to be friends with me anymore, but we could maintain a 'neighborly' relationship. She gave the specific example that if I were to come over because I need to borrow a cup of sugar, she would gladly give me one. Such an asinine statement only reminded me how crazy she is! One night, shortly after she made that ridiculous 'neighborly' comment, she was having some of our mutual friends over for a small get-together. Lisa, who had reported the aforementioned sentiment to me in the first place, was included in the festivities, therefore providing an opportune moment. That night at about 9:00, I sent my daughter to her back door toting a measuring cup to borrow that proverbial cup of sugar. We laughed so hard when my little girl returned with the goods in hand. I thought this would make Nutcake feel extremely stupid in front of all of our friends and would be the end to the ridiculous saga. Instead, she used the incident to confirm her theory. She said that I sent my child over there to spy! Wow. I wonder if she gave my daughter the old pat-down before allowing her to enter. She is even crazier than I had thought.

At my wits end, I decided it was time to end her neurotic hysteria. A couple of days later, I called and left her a less-than-sugary message. You can imagine my surprise when she came over that evening with fresh-baked cookies as a peace offering. After she left, my husband said, “you should have let her have it months ago!” Considering I am now reporting these events, she must not have laced them with anything very toxic. Yet, as expected with an unstable person, the kindness was short-lived.

Nutcake must always be the center of attention, making sure to be the loudest and the crudest at the table. If someone pays me a compliment, you can bet she will implement some strategy to focus the attention back to her. She is equally notorious for her lack of tact as for her distortion of fact. I know she resents me because I occasionally bring conversations back to earth after she broadcasts some piece of information that is 1 part truth to 4 parts B.S. In other words, I was ruining her show.

Nutcake has dominated her son's every move since birth. For 18 years, she dreaded the day he would graduate high school, because that signified his going off to college where she couldn't control his every breath. The fearful day arrived in June, and in August Andy went off to school an hour and a half away. Many of us speculated how he would adjust, never having freedom of any kind. Nutcake had already rationalized the possibilities. She knows he wouldn't take oral drugs, because he doesn't take a stinking Tylenol capsule. He is afraid of needles, allergic to smoke, and drinking won't be anything special because she let him have a beer on their family trip to Mexico. She forced him to spend the first six consecutive weekends of this, his freshman year, with her. Really jacked is that one of the weekends she stayed in his dorm room with him!

Well, Little Miss Control-Freak just got a very harsh reality-check. In the wee hours of Saturday morning, a mutual friend of ours got an unexpected and frantic phone call from her. Nutcake was actually back in our hometown, a thousand miles away. She and her husband had flown back because she had been subpoenaed to testify in a court case. Just before calling Lisa, Nutcake had received a call that Andy was in the emergency room with a lethal blood alchohol level and was non-responsive. His friends had taken him in because he was unconscience and vomiting blood. They had been pumping his stomach and were trying to revive him. I can't help but think that the timing was not a coincidence. This was the first time that any real distance separated his mother from him—the first weekend in his life that he knew she couldn't just decide to drop by unannounced. For the only time in his entire life--for these few days at least--she couldn't breathe down his neck.

Thankfully, they eventually stabilized him. However, the doctors reported that he would have died had his friends delayed in seeking medical help. The scary element to this equation is that many kids don't understand the seriousness of alcohol poisoning, and aren't able to recognize the signs when someone is in real danger and needs immediate medical attention. Not to mention, the fear of getting into trouble often overrides the intention to seek help.

If poor Andy thought his mother was over-bearing before....wow. I can not even imagine what he is in for now. She said she is withdrawing him from school. Although that is very unfortunate, it is not the least bit surprising. She would rather sabatoge his future, then to allow him the opportunity to learn from his mistake, as all people must eventually do. Now he's back on track to be a 40-year old virgin in the making. Maybe things will work out the way she wanted them to after all. Her obsession, indirectly, had near-fatal consequences. Her need to control his life is figuratively killing him, and nearly killed him literally, as well. But she is too blind to see or care that controlling him further by forcing him to quit school and move back home, will only make matters worse.

If nothing else, I deeply hope she has the wisdom to set her anger aside and thank those boys for saving his life. If not for them, she would be wearing some very different shoes now.

Unable to Forgive and Forget

2008-02-12T22:12:00.013-05:00

I have learned that I can't count on him in times when a husband is most needed. In the crucial events he should have been there for me, he wasn't. Because this theme has been recurring, I am unable to forgive and forget. The real turning point in our relationship, was a year and a half ago, when he was yet again, unavailable for me. I told him straight up, “You failed me as a husband.”

I'll try to make the long story a little less long. We were on day three of an 11-day stretch of him being 3,000 miles away, when one of my fears became a reality. Somebody broke in and robbed our home. It happened on a Friday morning, and luckily we were gone. When I called him to get the serial number to my stolen laptop for the police and to relay what had just happened, he was very quick with me and didn't have time to 'deal' with it. Stunned, hurt, and furious, I said something about his work always coming first, and slammed the phone down.

Later, a sheriff from a different county called the house and said he had been trying to call my husband's cell phone but couldn't reach him. They had found a box of our checks with a few other random things on the side of the highway about 40 miles away. I was livid that I had to track him down, as if I didn't have enough going on, to tell him that he needed to spare five minutes for a f-cking sheriff!

Needless to say, I was scared, distraught, and overwhelmed, while having three kids to take care of and juggling police and crime scene investigators coming in and out of my house. I was terrified that whoever had been in our home would come back. Afterall, they new the layout, what we looked like, our names, and even whose bedrooms were where.

By that evening we were starving, yet unable to go into our kitchen, and because I was the only adult who could wait for the other authorities to arrive, I was unable to leave to get us food.

Considering it was a Friday, and he had only extended his business trip to include the weekend per my suggestion, I never even fathomed that he would not come home for this. It became pretty evident though, when he was too busy to even talk, and didn't call back until 8:30pm, which was 5:30 Pacific time. How convenient. The work day was over, so he could check to make sure we're still alive. That is when I told him that he had failed me, and I hung up, ignoring his futile attempts to call back. I didn't talk to him again for 5 days.

I was fortunate that a friend who lives 3 hours away came to stay with us, because I was too drained to make the drive to her. And there was not a chance in hell I was spending the night alone with my kids.

Since he did not come home for another EIGHT DAYS after this happened, I was forced to deal with every aspect of it myself. I had to change all of our bank accounts, change passwords, cancel website registrations, and clean a revolting present the asshole culprit left in one of the bathrooms before leaving. Most importantly, I had to remain tough so that my kids wouldn't sense my fear. The worst thing that thief stole was my children's sense of safety and security. Because this hasn't been the only time my husband has left me to fend for myself, I am unable to forgive. I don't dwell on it everyday, but I don't think I will ever get over it.

There Is More Than Meets The Eye

2008-02-12T16:55:00.003-05:00

With my last post, one may assume that I am just needing to sew my wild oats. It's not that simple at all, or I would try to shake things up with him a bit, not be ready to throw it all away. While, there is a smidgen of truth to that statement, you must know whether the chicken or the egg came first. My desire to do some oat sewing has evolved out of our marital problems which have been brewing for over a year.

With my new Adderall 'vision' I have been able to recognize the dysfunctional patterns that have led me to feeling so much resentment. I know we're supposed to overlook the trivial quirks that our mates have which drive us crazy, but how about when you were forced to rely on others because your husband wouldn't help you out in desperate situations? If I can not count on him when I need him, what's the point?

He does, of course, have positive qualities, and I'm not trying to belittle him. I am simply sharing candid insights into my life, and hoping to foster personal growth in the process. I admit, it's strange opening up so much about myself, but I have always found writing to be cathartic.

Libertine, you nailed it (pardon the pun) when you spoke of people growing and changing. Most of us are not the same in our 30's as we were in our twenties. Many of the things I loved him for are long gone or buried, and the things that I foolishly thought he'd outgrow (since we married young), he didn't.

Aside from the things he has and hasn't done, there are two primary reasons I fear our relationship is doomed. The first is that the word 'initiate' is not in his vocabulary. He refuses to initiate anything, including problem solving. The other is that it requires so much energy for him to invest the everyday gestures that a husband and father should want to put into his family. He didn't have a good example growing up, and although I thought he was a world apart from his abhorrent father, I guess the apple can only fall so far from the tree.

Another major issue is that he ignores anything he finds uncomfortable to think about. He brushes everything under the rug. No matter what I say to him, as long as I am not on his case at that very moment, he thinks it's all good. I have continued to express how untrue that mentality is. I told him that I can't be pissy every minute of my life! Just because we're talking and laughing, does not mean our marriage is in good shape! For God sake, if the issue I have expressed to you has not been solved, then it is still an issue!

He Says I'm His Spice; I Say He's A Snore

2008-02-12T13:26:00.001-05:00

Aside from everything else, this snippet into our personalities lends some general insight.

Learning my psychology type (as referred to by Jung), has explained a lot. From the personality profile it states that, is unwise for ENFP's to settle down too early, and they make the soundest choices when they delay career and marriage decisions until their middle to late twenties. It also goes on to say, "ENFPs may have a difficult time remaining happy in marital relationships. The strong sense of values will keep many ENFPs dedicated to their relationships. However, ENFPs like a little excitement in their lives, and are best matched with individuals who are comfortable with change and new experiences.”

Naturally, I chose a person with the complete opposite profile as myself, therefore one who is not comfortable with change and new experiences. Fun and creativity are regretfully not a part of an ISTJ's life. He resists change of any kind and prefers consistent methods, even if there is a better way. ISTJ's are most well-known for coining the term, "ho hum." Instead of pursuing happiness, he merely fulfills obligations in attempts to avoid unhappiness. I've expressed that I can not breathe in that kind of environment, and perhaps he needs a partner who prefers knitting clubs to overseas vacations. Laughing, he denies that this is true and claims that he needs me to add some spice to his life. Frankly, I am tired of being the nutmeg in his coffee, the cinnamon in his tea, and the cumin in his chili. I need someone to be my cumin. Even enthusiastic people like myself get tired eventually.

The Honeymoon Is Over. . .Again

2008-02-11T15:15:00.001-05:00

My husband came home Friday night from being out of town all week. Perhaps there is something to the cliché that absense makes the heart grow fonder, because he was hardly on my nerves at all while he was gone. My resentment level was way down, and my tight muscles even loosened up enough that I was able to sleep better.

When he got home, the kids were naturally very glad to see him, and it started off wonderfully. We even snuck out of sight to have some hot, passionate guestroom time (figuring the kids wouldn't think to look in there). Afterward, I challenged him to a few games of target practice on the wii, and it was all good. I was thinking, maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

The honeymoom period lasted all of three hours. Then he had to go and be a dick. He went and spanked our 5 year old son for no good reason while putting him to bed. It wasn't a lashing, but it was loud enough that I could hear it in the other room, and it broke my heart hearing the way my little guy cried, stunned and confused. My husband is notoriously indifferent to peoples' feelings, especially the kids'. I tend to be very intuitive and empathetic. His complete lack of either of these two qualities frustrates me so deeply that at times I literally can not see straight when he behaves like this.

Unfortunately, I have so much built up resentment and frustration in this relationship, that it takes very little for me to be ready to give up again. The next night, out of the blue, I factually and unemotionally expressed my feelings of exhaustion, frustration, and readiness to walk away. It is not that I don't care about him, because I deeply do. We have built a life together, have children together, and had planned to follow suit by growing old together. However, things don't always happen like we plan. And caring about someone isn't necessarily enough to keep you together.

Life has resembled a roller-coaster ride recently. Sometimes I think I just need to suck it up and make the most of what we have. Other times, I feel that I can't take another day of his ignorance and denial.

He was home for two days, and just left again. It used to bother me when he left, but it's getting easier all the time. The more I get used to being without him, the easier it will be to call it quits. But then I think, who's to say the grass will even be greener on the other side? It certainly won't be greener right away; maybe it never will be. What should we reasonably expect out of marriage and out of life? Do we settle and make-do, or do we give our best shot at making this one and only life as rewarding and fulfilling as possible? How do you know which to give up-- a disappointing relationship, or your life's needs and desires?

The Neighbor From Hell: Part I

2008-02-05T17:14:00.000-05:00

(For those of you who read my Random Annoyances post, you will know what I'm talking about when I refer to "#5.")

Well, my husband is out of town again. There are pros and cons to this. The pros are that I get more time for myself after the kids are in bed, and I seem to be more productive in every aspect. I guess it's because I know that I am the only one accountable, and there is no one around to pick up any slack. Possibly because of this reason, I am much more organized when he is gone. I'm also 'in the know' about everything because everything goes through me, and he isn't around to "forget" to tell me stuff. Plus, the house usually stays cleaner because there is one less person leaving their crap lying around.

As far as the cons go, I am forced to get up a little earlier because he usually wakes up the kids before getting in the shower. However, that is sort-of, indirectly a pro because when I get up earlier, I also get more done. Another con, and since I don't have a pool boy, is only a con, is that I have been becoming a little "needy." This is a newer problem, as going without sex for a few days used to be the least of my concerns. Lately, it's a whole different story. The most troublesome of all cons relates to the fifth item on my previous post, "Random Annoyances."

For whatever reason, I think because she is part animal, my crazy, delusional neighbor seems to be able to sniff out the times when I am here alone. She is a predator. She's the type who likes to snatch up little children and snap them in two before eating them for lunch. And by the looks of it, she has gobbled up many. She is one of those people who is literally as ugly on the inside as she is on the out. I know it sounds mean, and if she wasn't such a foul, heartless wench, I would never call someone this, but I have coined a "pet" name for her. She just so happens to have big, brown and very wide-set eyes, and as mentioned, doesn't exactly have a girly figure. But less because of her appearance, and more because of her tirades, I refer to her as Mad Cow.

There are several stories I could divulge, like how she brought her husband over one evening, interrupting our dinner to rant about some tiff the children had earlier in the day.
Or like how she stormed over to accost me as I sat on my front steps on the day I was robbed. The freaking cops were still in my driveway for God's sake. I felt like a matadore, as she stood over me snorting and stomping her hoof waiting for me to get off the phone. Unable and unwilling to cope with such aggressive, erratic behavior, I got up and walked toward the officers in my driveway. Funny enough, she didn't take but one step in that direction before spewing some inaudible phrase and turning in defeat to return to her stall.

Oddly, the very next time my husband was out of town again, she attempted yet more abuse on my behalf. Knowing her patterns by this time, I anticipated her arrival by sensing vibrations in the ground, similar to those caused by aftershocks. I therefore closed all the blinds and instructed the children to be quiet, and under no conditions, to answer the door. She fumed there for a while, ringing the bell, then returned home to begin repeatedly calling my house. I never answered it, but decided to take the offensive role by calling her myself the next day.

In any case, the latest issue is one that has caused me to want to go over and accost her fat ass. Her son has been deciding to play basketball from about 8:30 pm to 10 pm every weeknight for two weeks. The problem with this is, it is very loud, and even on acre lots, we can hear every single dribble, slam dunk and bounce on the backboard. My daughter has great difficulty falling asleep as it is, many nights claiming to only get a couple of hours of sleep. This of course, significantly reduces the odds of her falling asleep at a reasonable time. Additionally, there are many school-aged children within earshot of his globetrotting.

My husband has addressed this issue with them three times this week. The difference in how we broach a subject with how she does (firstly, she doesn't actually have any issues, she just likes to yell at people), is that we are polite and respectful. When that doesn't work, what do you do? I am SO (not) looking forward to how this plays out this evening with me being home alone again. I wonder if I called the cops whether they would ask them to keep it down after a certain time on a school night? One lesson I haven't enjoyed learning, is that you can't play softball with people who play hardball.

Reflecting on Life's Choices

2008-02-04T09:34:00.001-05:00

Over the last year or so, I have done a lot of analyzing and soul searching. In the process, I have made a lot of realizations, yet found no answers. I have realized how any given moment is a product of our previous choices. When it comes to some of my life's major choices, there's no sense in beating around the bush: I. Have. Doubts. There was definitely a trigger point, but when I started taking Adderall for my recently diagnosed ADHD, the feelings compounded even more so. It was like I began wearing glasses and was seeing clearly for the first time. I became aware of the subconscious feelings which were leading to so much frustration and resentment in my marriage.

Although I'm pondering decisions I made in the past, such as marrying so young (we were twenty-one), it wouldn't be fair to call them bad choices. Perhaps a better adjective would be inexperienced. Even in hindsight, they seem like the right thing to have done at the time. When you're immature and inexperienced, you don't always recognize that other possibilities will lie ahead. It is rational to fear that if you pass on something good when it comes along, you may not get another chance. By the time you realize that you may have acted hastily, some 10-odd years later, your life has already been set on it's course. Not that the course can't be altered, but there are a lot of questions that must be answered first.

I interestingly came across this food for thought the other day. It's only a few years late and several dollars short: "It is unwise for ENFP's (myself) to settle down too early, and they make the soundest choices when they delay career and marriage decisions until their middle to late twenties.”
Hmmm...this could have been helpful to know.

Random Annoyances

2008-02-04T04:25:00.001-05:00

I received an email from my well-meaning, but annoying sister-in-law yesterday that inspired me to create this list. Not having heard from her in nearly a year, with the exception of the annual “My Kids' Christmas Lists” notification I get in December, I unexpectedly received a shutterfly album from her. I initially thought it was pictures of her kids, until I noticed the album name, “trip to Mexico” containing 250 photos. Yes. TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY flipping pictures of.....well, I assume her and her husband in Mexico, but couldn't say for certain because with 250 pictures, I dumped the sucker. Deleted it. Didn't click the link. Didn't enter the 'secret code' to view the photos. Why? Because sending anyone that many photos of anything is downright ridiculous! Let alone sending them to everyone on your email list! She must have imported the entire SD card, because surely she didn't HAND-PICK 250 pictures to email? I went on a trip last June to 3 different countries on 3 different continents and only emailed 50 pictures of the 700-and-something I took. It's a little something called selective reduction. So, what I'm trying to figure out is this: Is she just lazy or does she think that people actually care that much?

Well,on to the list of things that annoy me and/or piss me off. Enjoy!

#1- When people send autobiographical material like an annual newsletter or a list of annoyances, and preface with, “Enjoy!” Like reading about their trivial tidbits is the highlight of your week. Yes, as mentioned, the primary culprit is my husband's sister. She even included the cute little tagline on the aforementioned Christmas List! The list was actually in an attachment, so the content of the email went something like, “Click here to download what my kids want you to buy them for Christmas. Enjoy!” Yes, I'm dead serious.

As if that didn't sicken me enough, living 1,000 miles away, she also expects me to package and ship the stuff.

#2- When people (my husband) fail to turn off a light when leaving a room, namely bathrooms and closets. It takes a fraction of a nanosecond to flip the switch on the way out! How hard is that???

#3- LOUD restaurant patrons. You know them. You can hear every word they say, whether you want to or not. Your own conversation is often impeded due to this oblivious narcissist who doesn't seem to realize that they are in public and should spare the entire establishment their obnoxious laugh and poor sense of humor.

#4- Kids with pacifiers. Pacifiers are for infants, not toddlers and children! First of all, let's think about the very name of the item. Pacifier....for pacifying....to soothe....when does someone need to be pacified? When they are upset to begin with! Kids walking around stores and parks with a pacifier hanging out of their mouth is ridiculous. Especially when they are attempting to speak, but can only utter a lisp! How are they supposed to learn to talk with that thing constantly in their mouth? Parents, get a freaking clue. Your desire for peace and quiet is understandable, but come on. Throw away those damn pacifiers before the kid is walking and talking! ...Cheesus.

#5- Mean people. Like my neighbor next door. I will have to dedicate an entire post, if not series, to that crazy biotch and her little biotches-in-training offspring.

#6- People who take all day at the register to buy or return something. They must think they are really important, because the rest of us obviously don't have anything better to do than to stand behind them, holding our merchandise, waiting and waiting. Some of them are just the annoyingly clueless type who looks over each item, then checks their receipt, making an event out of a single purchase. Then there are the ones with the jerk rod up their ass, who think that the mother of all retail rules (return something with a receipt, or get the sale price) should be broken for them. Of course, they can't just accept the golden rule. They must talk to the manager as the line behind them grows longer and longer. I am really tired of people who think they deserve special treatment.

#7- This will come as no surprise: People who refute scientific evidence because it doesn't coalesce with their religious beliefs. Two examples are evolution, and...wait until you hear this one—dinosaurs. Yes, I actually had a friend who was visiting from out of town announce at dinner that she does not believe in dinosaurs (surprisingly, she is a college grad). Unable to speak, my jaw dropped open and my eyebrows receded into my hairline. She then uttered something about God and/or the bible. I pulled myself together and pretended that I hadn't heard a word.

In summary, I dislike dumb people, clueless people, loud people, mean people, lazy people, and people who think they deserve special treatment. Oh, and kids with pacifiers. This is a partial list....I'm sure to remember more later. =)

Am I just being bitchy?

At The End of My Rope

2008-02-03T19:13:00.000-05:00

I don't think I can take it anymore. I feel like I am being suffocated by my own life, and the only way to catch my breath would be to run away for a week, maybe two. I am in desperate need of some me time. My husband has failed me one too many times, and one of my children, who is afflicted with ADHD is beyond my last nerve. The child NEVER zips her lips. She has chronic diarrhea of the mouth, much worse than what most people can even fathom. I am not exaggerating. I am unable to cope right now. Anyone ever feel like this:

Like you're simply

at

the

end

of

your

rope

?

A Recipe for Disaster?

2008-02-01T10:26:00.005-05:00

If you were familiar with the conservative suburb in which I currently reside, it would come as no surprise that I place myself in the minority of my demographic population with my liberal religious views. When religion is being discussed within my peer group I rarely share my beliefs and often shake my head. Wishing to cultivate fair, open-minded individuals, raising children in the bible belt is...well, frustrating to say the least. Fundamentalists surely think that a house with no God is synonymous with a house of Hell. Well, I am here to give you the inside scoop on this "House of Hell" and the lessons I try to impress upon my children.

I myself regard spirituality to be a very personal choice. In our home, atheism is not discussed, let alone taught. If anything, I have done little more than introduce the idea of agnosticism, for the truth of the matter is that no body, regardless of age, rank or education can prove or dispute with certainty the existence of a supernatural being . I therefore aim to expose my children's sponge-like minds to a variety of things by teaching them about religious and cultural tolerance so that they will grow into open-minded individuals. In order to make informed decisions, people need to be enlightened, not preached to. One of the principal reasons I discarded Christianity is it's propensity to blindly influence its followers; considering this, I am certainly not going to engage in mind-control by forcing my personal beliefs onto my children's developing attitudes.

I don't say this to be boastful, but my children are extraordinarily intelligent. It may not be a direct result of my parenting, but it does lend to the fact that it's impossible to endorse a line of bull when I want to, let alone when my heart is not in it! When they have questions, I give them honest, unbiased answers. In giving a truthful response, one can only present something as absolute if there is factual evidence to support the claim. The bible, by itself, does not qualify as evidence. My son has wanted to know the origins of humanity since he was three years old. A friend of mine was actually dismayed when learning that I had answered his inquiry scientifically by explaining the process of evolution (as much as one can to a 3 yr old). “Shame on you! You taught him evolution?” she scolded. My response to such thoughtlessness is this: Why wouldn't I? Why wouldn't any parent who wants to foster an informed and educated child? For if we are comfortable passing on fables as truth, we could, alternatively, just teach our children about the stork. We may regret doing so once they hit puberty, but aren't fairy tales the answer to all the tough questions?

Last year my son attended a Catholic preschool because it was acclaimed as the best in kindergarten preparation. After school one day, he began talking about cheeses. Sensing my confusion, he elaborated, “you know, baby Cheeses.” Just as I was preparing to correct him on the pronunciation, he looked at me with a puzzled expression and added, “Why would his mom and dad name him Cheeses?" I said that they didn't, technically, because his name was Jesus. We talked about Jesus being a very important person, and that Christmas is celebrated in honor of his birth. Then, at Easter, we talked about Cheeses dying on the cross. In May, on the way to his preschool graduation, he informed us that the ceremony would take place in Cheeses' house. The poor kid just didn't get it. In any case, I freely discuss these issues with my kids, but introduce the information in a historical context to avoid endorsing biblical stories as truth.

After my grandparents died last year, my daughter inquired about death and Heaven. I conveyed that many people truly believe we go to Heaven after we die, although no one can report the accuracy since the only ones who know are dead. I was slightly more gentle in my delivery, but she is very logical and was satisfied with that. Imagine, a child being satisfied with the truth! If, when my kids are grown, they choose religious faith as an adult, it will be of their own accord and not because they were brainwashed. Likewise, it is their prerogative if they prefer to view the world as a scientific masterpiece. I see blind faith as not only unadulterated acceptance, but also a lack of vision to the world's realm of possibilities.

I genuinely feel that I would be doing my children a great disservice if I instilled unilateral thoughts into their minds, for it would consequently hinder their infinite potential.

A Slimy Can Of Worms

2008-01-23T13:22:00.003-05:00

I recently opened a can of worms on the blogcatalog discussion forum. I was interested in getting opinions and insight on a topic that is personal to me, but controversial. Being agnostic myself, and knowing how highly religious convictions are regarded, I was curious to know how most people felt about morality as it relates to a non-Christian, or even more specifically, a non-believer. However, the discussion was led astray, partially for two reasons. For one, my poor wording in the opening remark led to misinterpretations, and many who didn't read my post on the subject seemed to misconstrue that my question, “are Christians morally superior to non-Christians?” was a statement rather than an inquiry into how they felt (which contradicts everything I stand for). The second element contributing to it's demise as a calm and rational conversation, is the fact that many people do not like to be challenged on topics as personal and deeply rooted as faith.

I can empathize with that position. I have personally witnessed a lot of bias originating from Christians, which deeply frustrates me, hence the basis to pose the question in the first place. One member of the forum challenged my purpose for singling out Christianity, stating she was sensitive to the bias against Christians. I refer to Christianity because it is the only religion I have these experiences with. I was born in the United States, where if you are a natural born citizen to parents who were natural born citizens, the chances are very high that the only religion you got exposed to was... Christianity! There was no malice in my intent; Christianity is simply the most influential religion in the culture and society I personally live in. Over the last two decades, Christians have comprised as much as a whopping 86% of the American population*. For crying out loud, if individuals of the vast majority are sensitive to bias, they ought imagine what it's like for the divided 14% that are not Christian!

The Christian mindset influences our society more than Christians, themselves, apparently realize. I think this is because when something is a natural part of our lives, all references to it seem inherent. However, when you are a minority, you are much more aware of, and negatively impacted by, the common attitudes of society at large since their attitudes often reflect a philosophy that does not support or tolerate your individuality. Often it is disseminated that without claiming Jesus as our savior, we are nothing more than lost souls on a futile journey. Here is a classic example of Christian bias and propaganda: I used to receive an abundance of evangelistic emails, many of which were downright offensive! One, in particular, introduces the names of many people (one being John Lennon, along with a myriad of others, some famous, some not) who had used the Lord's name in vain or disputed the Christian message in some form or fashion. It first details each of their transgressions against God, then distinctly points out that these sins are what led to their demise. These villainous creatures were all punished with untimely deaths, in essence getting what they deserved. One of the examples was a teenage girl who allegedly sassed her mother as she was leaving her home, then moments later tragically died in a car accident. Whether or not this even happened is irrelevant; in this email, Christians are circulating the message that a young girl's death was a justifiable act of God! This, my fellow citizens, is contemptible decorum. Anyone who forwards such propaganda in the name of religion, ought not do it indiscriminately, and had better understand the message they proliferate!

The doctrines conveyed aren't always this blatant. It is often much more insidious. Answer this: If many Christians do not consider themselves to have a higher moral standard, then why has the “good Christian” adjective become a cliché? “She's a good Christian girl,” or, “he's a good Christian man,” or my favorite, “we're a good Christian family,” which, yes! I hear these often. It's as if the two words are entwined and that a person can not be one without the other! These expressions instill subconscious messages that, when heard repeatedly, internalize the belief, therefore continuing the cycle of inaccurate presumptions.

It simply boils down to having respect for one another. It goes both ways; you have to give respect to get respect. Each of us holding a certain faith or belief system, does so for a personal reason. I whole-heartedly respect others' right to practice whichever faith, if any, they choose; after all, most of my family and friends are Christians.

In my personal endeavor, I am getting closer to the place which allows me personal freedom to not worry about others' perceptions of my values. As long as I am comfortable with the skin I am in, they can take it or leave it.

*latest stats are 77% (source: http://www.religioustolerance.org/chr_prac2.htm)

The Morality of an Athiest? Yes.

2008-01-20T20:36:00.003-05:00

I remember growing up and hearing that word: atheist. It nearly chilled me to the bone. The imagery it conjured was unpleasant and uncomfortable: a group of corrupt and vile individuals assembling in unkempt and starkly furnished quarters to plot their Rein of Sin. They were selfish beings who hated God and his followers and maybe even offered sacrifices. I concluded that an atheist, for all intents and purposes, was one in the same as a devil-worshiper. I had been told that they were hollow people whose lives were insignificant unless and until they accepted Jesus into their hearts.

Christians must feel pretty special to be among the select few born into the only religion which awards mortals the golden ticket to Heaven. It is startling to think that two-thirds of God's children will perish for all eternity. It's a real shame for those poor, damned-to-hell children born into Judaism. If only their parents would read them the second half of that book! It doesn't seem fair that the helpless babies born unto Muslim, Hindu, or hippie mothers are ill-fated before they even take their first breaths. Then, of course, there are the trillions of lost souls in China. Let's bow our heads and pray for all these damned walks of life that have not been blessed with the knowledge we Christians have. May their charred souls forever serve as a reminder to us!

Now that I am grown, I don't need fables to scare me into righteousness. Without the naivety of childhood, I know that the word 'atheist' is not synonymous with evil. Atheism alone, does not reflect a person's intent or integrity. It is neither a religion against God, nor an idolatry of the devil. In fact, these concepts are paradoxical; if one does not believe in God, how can he assemble against him? Likewise, why would one deify the antagonist of a non-existing deity? Atheism is simply a word defining the lack of belief in a divine being.

Contrary to popular belief, Christianity is not vital to virtue. Although we are all granted the freedom of religion, society purports the notion that the only acceptable value system is one rooted in the Christian faith. It is true that we must be rooted in a moral foundation; however, that foundation can host different shapes or styles and still produce acceptable results. Instead of focusing on the fundamentals of religion, I advocate ideals that benefit humanity such as compassion, tolerance, and empathy, therefore behaving in a manner that elevates society, not oppresses it. We shouldn't need a book instructing us to do the right thing; we should do the right thing because it is right and because of our concern for fellow man. Call me an idealist. Call me an atheist. Call me ignorant. But do not say I am amoral by exploiting biblical messages to oppose my convictions.

I am utterly appalled that so many people do not seem capable of deciphering right from wrong without the parameters of religion! I use this recent encounter as an example: some other moms and I had met at McDonald's for lunch so our children could play together. We were discussing pregnancy and the sonograms that had revealed our babies' genders. One of the women lamented, “I was so upset when I found out I was having another boy, that I broke down crying.” After a pause she concluded, “How Christian is that?" I literally choked on my sesame seed bun. Did I just hear that right? She needed a religious code of conduct rather than her unconditional love to reconcile her feelings about her unborn child? Without premeditation and still gasping for air, I countered, “don't you mean, how motherly is that?” Based on her nonverbal cues, I don't think she appreciated my insight. Honestly, her disappointment at the discovery was reasonable; it is completely natural to feel let down when things don't work out the way we hope for. So what in the hell did that have to do with Christianity? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. She is one of the countless confused souls who invents and applies moral implications to situations where they do not exist. Are these people so lost in Sunday's sermon, that they don't know how to act or feel on the human level?

Christianity is but a mere middle man to morals. By cutting through the rhetoric and eliminating the middle man, we can get to the heart of what matters. There are countless charitable, noble, and caring people, many of whom have dedicated their lives to human rights, who, by definition, are atheists. Believing or disbelieving in a god does not determine our value here on earth; what is important is the way we treat each other, the impact we make on others, and the legacies we leave behind. The bottom line to morality is simple: conduct yourself in a manner you would appreciate from others, and try to leave the earth a better place than it was when you arrived. Morality isn't conforming to a religious doctrine in order to redeem the prize at the end. It is not about the path to heaven; it is about the life we lead on earth.

What Makes A Woman Feel Sexy?

2008-01-18T17:43:00.001-05:00

Firstly, I want to convey that “SEX” (there, I said it) is not a dirty word. Anyone purporting it as such can refrain from reading this post and go back to their childhood or 1950's ideals, whichever is the cause for their undeveloped outlook. The skin that I am in is acclimating nicely to being more candid.

The title of this post poses a question I have frankly never really pondered....until today. There are several factors that may contribute, and I would be interested to know which of these play the biggest role. I suppose my sudden intrigue stems from my evolving sexuality. It may sound odd, but today I am feeling extraordinarily sensual. It must be related to that sexual prime I've read about, telling of the irony in men hitting their sexual peak a full decade before we ladies. But experiencing our sexual prime would not necessarily make one feel desirable, would it? Pardon the slang, but feeling horny and feeling sexy, although often occurring simultaneously, are two different sensations. Perhaps credit is due to a biological influence, such as body chemistry. Hormones can certainly evoke sexual desire, but can they actually make one feel sexy?

There is also the issue of self-image and the components that help shape it. External feedback we receive from others often affects how we see ourself. How much impact does the way men receive us have? I suppose it would depend on our current self-esteem and how easily influenced it is. Regardless of how frequently a woman is complimented, if she has poor self-esteem, the flattery will not resonate with her. However,in most cases, one eventually regards themselves in a manner reflecting the messages they receive from others. Another thing often cultivating women's self-images, especially in the early years, is how their bodies fit society's mainstream image of what makes a woman beautiful and tempting. Our self-image can certainly be deflated when we fail to project that image. Is our sexuality heightened the closer we feel our body fits that ideal?

Likely it could be a combination of these factors that cause women to feel sexy and desirable. Possibly, it's as simple as becoming more comfortable in the skin we are in. Whatever the case may be, it is exhilarating to feel so stimulated and alive. Just feeling sexy can be very arousing, indeed.

Writer's Block, Unedited

2008-01-14T00:13:00.001-05:00

It is unfortunate that I do not sleep with my laptop (our relationship is strictly professional) in light of an experience I have which happens in the midst of lying in bed and is unique to any other time. As I relax, putting all the practicalities of the day out of my mind, I begin to give in to my subconscious. Once in the realm of my imagination, open to unfiltered and unedited thinking, I undergo a kind of metamorphosis. Congruent, well-phrased ideas begin to form and before long they easily flow through my mind, one leading to another, and yet another. As I lie there, allowing them to penetrate, I begin to feel stimulated and excited. I am soon realizing a frenzy of activity. I further concentrate on my goal to continue extracting these lucid descriptions. Within seconds, the most powerful and poignant expressions of my subconscious thrust forward into cognition. I feel consummately enlightened, yet simultaneously energized. As I scramble to preserve the moment, not wanting it to slip away, I cry out in attempts to articulate what I am experiencing inside. Unfortunately, however, without the ability to immortalize this gift, the achievement is only fleeting. Once I have risen from bed, the distractions that are the nuances of reality reclaim my attention and the perfect, eloquent expressions retreat once more. To be unable to recapitulate such inspiring material is a very frustrating phenomenon. It is discouraging, indeed, to stare at the keyboard desperately trying to recall the words that reside solely in the 'uncensored' area of the mind. This happens to be my personal experience with writer's block.

Down On The Dogma

2008-01-13T12:56:00.001-05:00

I frequently endure frustration in my quest for truth and tolerance in this dogmatic world. Specifically, one of the few behaviors that Christians appear to readily practice as well as they preach is their orthodox discrimination toward anyone dissimilar to their ideal. The tradition is easily passed on when too many of us unquestioningly accept the convoluted messages that are passed down. Instead of adopting this blind trust, I simply encourage people to consider things objectively and understand the message they spread.

I am not encouraging anyone to neglect their institutions of faith. For instance, my cousin is currently finishing up his degree in theological studies. While we do not see eye-to-eye on religious topics, I respect him whole-heartedly because he has put such a great deal of work, thought, and energy into developing his belief-system. Furthermore, he does not demonstrate an outwardly judgmental attitude toward people of other faiths.

When we support a convention in which we attribute the reason for our existence and upon which our entire moral foundation is based, we must be wise enough to evaluate the value, validity, and purpose of not only the recipe as a whole, but each of it's ingredients.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

2008-01-10T10:19:00.002-05:00

Interestingly, but not surprisingly, I have received mixed reviews for my first two ever performances on blogger. Not everyone respected the request I made in my virgin post about going easy on me. Since I made it clear that it was my first time, I felt taken advantage of. It was like getting raped in public (of course, being the naked blogger, I'm sure I was asking for it). Now I am seriously suffering from a case of the old cliché, “once bitten, twice shy.”

With the contradicting feedback, however, I am reminded that there is not one of us who can aim to please everybody. After all, “some like it hot,” and apparently, “some not”. There are, of course, the ones that fall into the mean who like it hot only on occasion, contingent upon the duration of “not”. I do have an agenda to argue several affairs, however, I am also here for pleasure. While at home, I can think of few better ways to spend my time than to articulate some of my perpetual grievances, simultaneously enjoying myself. What is a life that is all business and no pleasure? A wasted one. As I analyze my purpose for submitting these posts, I remember with great joy and relief, “this is not an assignment! I can make it whatever I want.” It is almost too good to be true, which I fear, because you know what they say about that.

Having been bitten among the accolades, has helped to instill in me a lesson about the importance of being comfortable in the skin I am in. Some people seem to like my skin (which happens to smell quite indulgent at the moment thanks to Bath and Body Works Simply Divine Cherry Pie scent... I'm being literal, that is not an innuendo). I am sure there are some who would prefer my skin to be darker. Or thicker. Or thinner. But what it comes down to is this: I am the one wearing it, caring for it, and looking it in the mirror every day. In whatever fashion I decide to portray my skin, I am the one who has to sleep in it at night. As long as I can do that, everything else will fall into place.

Under our Clothing, We All Wear a Birthday Suit

2008-01-03T23:02:00.001-05:00

A few years ago I relocated to the South. Albeit, coming from my suburban, middle-class, Midwestern roots, I wasn't exactly on the front line of progression. But for Heaven's sake, the South seems to be suffering from a long-induced coma and doesn't realize that (chronologically speaking) we are in the 21^st century. In spite of this, I often don't feel comfortable freely expressing my opinion. I have come to appreciate just how painful it is to be repeatedly biting one's tongue. At times I make subtle corrections or ask challenging questions to thoughtless remarks, but rarely do I spark debate. I am opinionated, not confrontational. Needless to say, I was grateful to discover this platform which enables my passive-aggression. And here I will deliver my naked truth in nothing but my revealing birthday suit.

Now for Tangent #2:
While there is truth in our nation being comprised of millions of spoiled, loud-mouthed chauvinists, it is also fair to say that we live in a self-righteous, judgmental society. Our culture holds staunch doctrines on what is socially acceptable, rejecting other forms of behavior that, in reality, may be perfectly healthy. We are guilty of inventing corruption by labeling certain common and natural behaviors as vile. Examples include profanity, nudity and sex (yes, some expressions of these are vile. The significance is in the intention). For example, what is a parent's immediate inclination when subjected to crimeless nudity in the presence of their children (like in a movie)? It is to hurriedly prevent the image from meeting their child's eyes, meanwhile sending the message that it must be something off-limits and alluring. This patterned behavior is a product of cultural conditioning. I wouldn't exactly let my kids watch unfiltered Cinemax, and I readily admit, I am far too modest to be seen anywhere in public absent my layers of protective apparel (or as suggested in the title, my birthday suit). But as we all know, Europe, not to mention other parts of the world, boasts nude beaches aplenty. Once pondered, you realize it should be no big deal. It's only a body. People used to be (and in some countries still are) unclothed all the time. Assuredly the locals aren't staring and snickering and developing lascivious thoughts as a result. They're conditioned to be as lackadaisical about nudity as we are about ordering take-out. If our culture embraced the human body as a natural apparatus, I can tell you without question that the pornography industry would not be the money-making machine that it is. Recall the failed attempt at prohibition? (I know you're not old enough to remember it, but you went over it in history class). Referencing Tangent # 1.....people want what they can't have. If something is 'off-limits' it only propagates the appeal. Nevertheless, our culture will not come out of the closet anytime soon, without it's clothes on.

Afterward: do not manipulate my message into something it is not. I am not advocating that we all run to our local town square and shed all of our clothing. These things require baby steps. Undergarments should be worn initially.

Yes, I am a Virgin

2008-01-02T19:48:00.001-05:00

......to blogging, that is. Until this very moment. I am posting my first post. You are reading my first post. We're in this together. I won't know until my fingers eagerly swipe the last keys whether or not the experience is climactic. If you do not like what you see here, please don't send me hate messages. Remember, this is my very first time. Be gentle.

Blog, blogger, blogging. What is all this hype? And why do I feel compelled to delve into this foreign technical world in which I'm not even sure I understand the premise? The world of blogging is more vast and complicated than a novice, like myself, would expect. But, then again, I do have a tendency to make things more difficult than they need to be. Up to this point, I have rarely even read a blog. In spite of the aforementioned, someone has advised me to begin one. I do, admittedly, have a predisposition to being opinionated and wordy on subjects I am passionate about, and I suppose that may have led to the suggestion. Perhaps, said individual (who I teased had unwittingly subscribed to my platform by exchanging emails with me) thought the rest of the world would benefit greatly from the subject matter I was spewing. Or (more likely), the enthusiasm I used to convey my convictions revealed that I need an outlet to channel this energy.

Considering my opening remarks, this will doubtfully come as a surprise, inasmuch as my theories often do not coalesce with the mainstream. I don't apologize for this, as it is certainly not traditionalists that bring about change. Thereby, even if not in concurrence, one must respect free-thinkers. Without their ingenuity, we would still presume the world was flat. Without their modernization, Christianity would still be an underground religion, and for God's sake, pagans would rule the western world! Even Jesus' now revered messages were once received with skepticism and disbelief. We humans have a difficult time with any idea that challenges what we already know, or think we know.

I am not an extremist in any form, yet my ideals would rarely endorse a conservative rationale. While many may not support the end result, the logic leading me to these conclusions is relatively irrefutable. I am not here to shove my personal convictions down any throats; after all, anyone reading this is doing so by choice. I would, however, love the chance to challenge individuals who have been victim to our society's brainwashing, to think for themselves. That inherently means, not to adopt my personal convictions, but to open their minds (with at least temporary disregard to the norm) and freely analyze their world in order to formulate their own personal truth. The world analyzed must not be the superficial world we have all come to accept, but the naked world, with all it's imperfections and all it's guilty pleasures.

Which brings me to Tangent #1: Why do we feel obliged to label something we enjoy as “guilty”? If it doesn't harm, torture, or damage ourself or anyone else, do we really need to squander the joy out of it by insinuating that the very act of deriving gratification deserves punishment? Or is it because the term itself is a paradox, and by it's very nature causes one to enjoy it all the more? Considering everyone wants what they shouldn't have, perhaps the latter is true. It's like a subconscious mind-game people use to add a degree of “naughtiness” to something that has no moral implications. Like referring to a rich slice of cheesecake as 'sinfully decadent'. This suggests to me that we all grow tired of always doing the 'right' thing. Maybe all of us, including the most dedicated religious figures, need to occasionally commit 'sinful' acts to stir the soul.

~Now that my first time is coming to an end, I hope you won't tell me that you just want to be friends. Although not a sexually-charged blog with frank descriptions of a more 'biological' nature, I hope I can titillate your mind enough to draw you back. As anyone providing good service would express upon farewell, "please come again".