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I weep for America

December 5, 2012 by

soapboxpileOnce again, the United States falls short of their previous greatness. Once again, we have successfully shown the world what we have become. What is that you ask, well you should.

  • Narrow minded
  • Bigoted
  • Fearful
  • Small

As I watched the vote yesterday the vote on the UN Convention for the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, I wanted to weep. Well, let me be clear I wanted to weep only after I wanted to stomp into and through the halls of the Senate and shake those 38 Senators who voted ‘Nay’, when given the opportunity to ratify the Convention (Treaty) of Rights of Persons with Disabilities.

I watched as Senator Elizabeth Dole wheeled her husband, the elder statesman Bob Dole onto the floor of the senate. He supported the ratification of this Treaty, he had only been released from Walter Reed 5 days earlier but thought it important to come that day to show his support. It wasn’t enough.

Senate Floor, December 4, 2012

Senate Floor, December 4, 2012

I watched as two normally pugnacious foes stood up for the same thing, to ratify this Treaty. John Kerry and John McCain both spoke from the floor of the senate yesterday on the same side of the fight. Both Senators spoke from their experience as wounded war veterans; both spoke from their hearts and were compelling.

I watched as the vote called, I was dismayed after that I was furious. If you don’t know the history of the UN Convention for the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, here it is in brief.

  • Adoption by General Assembly, December 2006 (modeled after the 1990 US Americans with Disabilities Act signed by President George H.W. Bush)
  • Opened for Signature, March 2007
  • First Session of Committee, February 2008
  • Entry into Force, May 2008
  • First Conference, October – November 2008
  • Signed by President Barack Obama, July 2009
  • Second Conference, September 2009

The Senate had the opportunity to ratify a Treaty that required nothing of us as a nation, no changes to our laws no changes to our systems. The Senate had a chance to show the world we are not the narrow minded, fearful conspiracy nuts we appear to be, no thanks to Rick Santorum and the rest of the Tea Party nutcases, they failed.

Let’s talk about Rick Santorum, who is now a featured columnist for World News Daily, home of some of the best conspiracy theories, the most egregious of the Birther theories, the ongoing climate denial and my favorite the ongoing fear mongering of Islam and Socialism combination. Yes, Rick fits right in with these lunatics. The thirty-eight idiots in the Senate who voted ‘Nay’ adopted his UN Black Helicopter conspiracy about this particular Treaty, his leap of giant faith that somehow ratifying this treaty would usurp parental authority.

So, here we are once again proving to the world we are nation in decline. We are a nation without a moral compass, one that no longer values even our own accomplishments in leading the world. The Tea Party wins, even those Senators who in the past have voted their conscious have been beaten into submission, fearful of losing their place at the table.

America I weep for you, I weep for all of us.my.opera

Link to the Treaty: http://treaties.un.org/doc/source/RecentTexts/IV_15_english.pdf

Who has signed, ratified: http://www.un.org/disabilities/documents/maps/enablemap.jpg

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Get off the Funk Train

December 1, 2012 by

UntitledThere are times when it feels the world is working against you, this year has been like that for me and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Each time I tried the reason, the cause for my angst slipped away. It wasn’t that I was particularly sad, depressed or angry; no, that wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t that this has been a terrible year, not a terrible one for me personally anyway. Something though sat in the corner, like a shadow just beyond my vision, sapping my strength, my energy and my emotional reserves.

There have been many changes this year, many things I have brought on myself. Explorations of my own history some of which was difficult, soul scrubbing even, these were not the cause of my bother. Then there has been the very ugly political season, I found myself in battle royale’s with friends and family, more times than I might wish. While the campaign season was nasty and brought out the ugly in many of us, myself included at times, this wasn’t what sucked me down into this muddle either.

So, what is it that has me in a funk? I feel sometimes I am swimming in a morass of quicksand with nothing to grab on, nothing to pull myself out

Truly, this year has been troubling to me; the more I sought answers the more my head and heart seemed to slip out the back door and away from my inspection. The greater my introspection and the more I searched for cause, the more the shadow seemed to grow, surrounding my days and sucking my energy along with it. On the one hand, I was releasing my history and I was lighter for it, my soul and heart were expanding and I could feel those pieces of me flying off to the winds. Was this what was wrong? Did I need those pieces to be whole, to be completely me was I really only me when I held on to the pain of my history; surly this wasn’t the truth. I hadn’t told everything, I still had my secrets those parts that I hadn’t let out that I hadn’t shown, was this what was wrong? No, I didn’t think so, some stories can wait I think until we are ready to tell them, one I had told to two people without comment so it was in their keeping for now.

This year was difficult, despite some of the great things and great people I found along the way. My energy was sapped, I couldn’t finish projects and I let people down. All too frequently, I ran away from interaction, from telling people there was something wrong. Even knowing there were communities of true friends I could turn to, I hid simply stopped communicating rather than say, “There is something wrong”.QuestionMark

What was wrong with me this year?

Part of what is wrong is simply physical, I am in pain and it is draining my energy. I have allowed this to continue without dealing with it head on. I am tired. That is the truth. It has been twenty long years; it is not ever going to get better. I am tired. I am tired of always hurting. I am tired of living in an alternate universe where pain is the norm and I live on a scale of 5-10 rather than 0-5. I am tired of having to explain.

I am tired of what pain does to my body. I am tired of being fat because moving hurts and keeps me away from doing anything healthy for myself. I am tired of being too embarrassed to go to the gym. I am tired of hurting too much to walk. I am tired of all the numb spots on my body that get worse if I stand too long or walk too far. I am tired of having to explain this to perfectly healthy, body perfect people my dearly beloved included who doesn’t understand what it means to not live in pain every single day of their lives.

I am angry, yes, I am angry because in October of last year someone rear-ended me while I sat at a stop light. That act caused me more harm; progress I had made with my physical therapy was entirely undone. I ended up losing a contract and thus losing income. The other person’s insurance company treated me terribly in large part because I had a pre-existing condition. This still hasn’t been resolved, an attorney who is a member at the club dearly beloved works offered to take the case on contingency. Yes, there is a contract and thirteen months later, we are still waiting for him to do anything. In fact, despite multiple times of him telling me he is preparing an offer for the insurance company he has done nothing. This week I have sent him two e-mails asking why, he hasn’t responded to either.

What is wrong with me this year?wellmoney

I lost a third of my normal income through that accident, because I couldn’t travel for months. I am the primary breadwinner in our marriage, always have been. No one seems to be at all concerned, but me perhaps because finances are my purview just as earnings are my responsibility. As I look at the year, though I realized I failed to live up to my end, but it feels like it is a domino effect. If I weren’t already hurt that accident would have been nothing, I would have walked away.

If it weren’t for fearing repercussions against dearly beloved I would take action against this attorney who is doing nothing. I do though; I fear greatly DB will be harmed if I take action so I am bound by ribbons of love and my own failure to act.

What is wrong with me this year? Why am I in such a funk? Why can’t I seem to move through the bad and focus on what is wonderful and what is great?

I don’t know the answer to the above. I just know I have been trying without much success to take on small projects for months now. It isn’t there haven’t been wins; they just don’t seem to be enough to push the blues out of my way to wash the fog from my brain entirely. I know I need something to compel me, something to spin my wheels.

Don’t misunderstand; I am not always sad or unhappy. I am just in a funk this year. There have been changes and some of them have worked my nerve. Some of them I have to deal with, I have to do something about so they don’t work my nerve next year too.

So, that is some of why I am in a funk, some of what is shadowing me. I don’t know what I will do to fix it, but somehow I must over the next four weeks get proactive. My funk is affecting my marriage, my work and my friendships. I refuse to allow it to follow me to next year.

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All that is Good

November 24, 2012 by

Gratitude

Appreciation

Thankfulness

I allowed my anniversary to pass without much fanfare, mostly because I wanted to sit back and consider all that had happened in the past year. Where I began and why, what caused me to start and what has changed for me, in large part since I began exploring pieces of myself I didn’t think to explore. This past year has truly been an exercise in redefining my limits and boundaries. I have wandered paths I long since allowed to be overgrown and choked off. I also rediscovered my love of research, history and yes you might have guessed the sociology within politics.

There were things I knew, things I intellectualized but had never spoken aloud. There were other things I knew, a history buried so deep in my soul despite my tough girl exterior I still allowed those hurts to define me. In these pages I began to speak the words, some of them made me weep for days. Some of them made me so angry all over again I could not speak aloud for hours after writing them down. Yet I hit the publish button and it was as if each time I released a piece of myself, comforting myself there was another door in the oubliette of my mind no longer hidden, no longer under lock and key.

When I started I didn’t know I would delve deeply into my history. Even today I don’t know that I could tell you why I did, except it was time. I was made brave by others I met in this wonderful world, others who were not afraid, who stunned me with their courage and their kindness, such as:

http://runningfromhellwithel.com/ http://deborah-bryan.com/
http://onehotmessage.wordpress.com/ http://rasjacobson.com/
http://knowmyworth.com/ http://cheatbuster.wordpress.com/
http://linneann.wordpress.com/ http://rebelthriver.wordpress.com/
http://runningnakedwithscissors.com/

Then there are those perfect places of rest and peace. I find them and think, ahhh I am home for a minute and can breathe. When I see there is something from one of these wonderful bloggers I smile just a little then rush right over to read.

http://tasteoflifebysabi.wordpress.com/ http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/
http://yourdailydoseblog.com/ http://notquiteold.wordpress.com/
http://letscutthecrap.wordpress.com/ http://adamsart.wordpress.com/
http://somkritya.wordpress.com/ http://suedreamwalker.wordpress.com/
http://totsymae.com/ http://catforsley.me/

We all have places to laugh, giggle, argue and debate. In some cases a mix of personal stories, political shenanigans and the world around us is just what is needed to keep us connected. Certainly, despite what it may seem like to some, even I need that cool wind to blow and make me giggle, some of these marvelous bloggers do just that!

http://carrierubin.com/ http://afrankangle.wordpress.com/
http://k8edid.wordpress.com/ http://sweetmotherlover.wordpress.com/
http://pegoleg.com/ http://fiftyfourandahalf.com/
http://howthehelldidienduphere.wordpress.com/ http://monicastangledweb.com/
http://thebyronicman.com/ http://shesamaineiac.com/
http://frigginloon.wordpress.com/ http://heyjay139.wordpress.com/
http://romneymanassa.wordpress.com/ http://chiefwritingwolf.com/

There is one other blogger who I have to send out enormous hugs and great heaping mounds of gratitude to, without her I might not have continued forward. Without her I would have given up, frequently. She has been my bulwark, my voice on the other end of the phone and I am afraid I have burned her ear sometimes with my rants.

Red over at http://mommasmoneymatters.com/

I wanted to say to all the bloggers who follow me, I am so grateful. For the time you take to read and comment, I appreciate it is your time and you give some of it to me. To all the bloggers who have given their time and energy, who have taught me to let go and soar, thank you; I will never be able to express what it has meant to me to learn, your lessons have been invaluable. To all my new friends, I am so grateful for your warmth, humor and welcome.

This past year has seen me let go of some very old hurts. No, it hasn’t truly healed them, simply allowed me to let them go. This year has also allowed me to find new pathways to old and slightly damaged relationships, without the lessons I have learned here and from some of you I might never have found the strength and courage to reach out and rebuild those bridges, for this I am grateful. Over this past year I have also learned, much to my chagrin I need to apologize more often for my razor sharp tongue, ouch. I have been reminded to say “I love you” and to hug, even if the hug is remotely.

Perhaps most importantly I have learned not to ignore my feelings. Not to find another room in the dungeon of my mind and throw those pesky emotions inside under lock and key. I have learned my emotions will not slice and dice me leaving nothing remaining of who I thought I was, or pretended to be. I have begun to be a complete person again, while I still don’t wear my heart on my sleeve I might consider a tattoo of one someday.

I let my anniversary pass, mostly because I wanted to think about the past year and what it has meant to me. What changes this year has brought about. I have been in a funk this year and couldn’t put my hand on why, finally last week I figured it out (more on this later). This post is all about gratitude, I have much to be thankful for; while I may never be enpoint again my soul has begun to soar.

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Notions, Odds and Ends

November 10, 2012 by

soapboxpileIt has been a long slog through the muck. There were things left undone as my attention was diverted by both Campaign 2012 and blogging for Race 2012. I admit it, I love politics it is both an intellectual distraction and a philosophical passion, sometimes futile I admit but this time, I think we all learned a few things. Does the end of the campaign and the re-election of POTUS 44 mean I will stop bombarding you with politics?

Well no, probably not but what it does mean is I will stop blitzing you quite so much. My earlier intent to look at and compare the platforms of the two parties moving forward from 1900 to today hasn’t changed, I think this is remains an interesting subject. What about you?

The world we live in remains disrupted by stand your ground ideology on both sides of the aisle. For those of us who voted for the winning side, we can celebrate today but the heavy lifting is only just beginning. For those who voted for the opposition, I am sorry your team lost. I know you are feeling despondent even today the loss is still sinking in. The problem is we are all Americans; we have to find common ground and move our nation forward. We cannot afford to allow those we sent to Washington to set the agenda against our collective best interest.

We are not:

  • African (Black) Americans
  • Hispanic (Brown) Americans
  • Native Americans
  • Asian Americans
  • White Americans
  • Gay Americans
  • Young Americans
  • Older Americans
  • Female Americans
  • Male Americans
  • Christian Americans
  • Muslim Americans
  • Buddhist Americans
  • Mormon Americans
  • Atheist Americans
  • Deist Americans

Nor are we any other flavor of American the pollsters or for that matter, the Census Bureau can think of. We truly need to begin to think of ourselves not as special interests groups, rather simply as Americans, citizens of this nation. Do not mistake me, I fully agree we have not achieved equality and Civil Rights across the board remain elusive for many of our citizens. Some continue to believe Civil Rights should be a ballot measure, granted only if your neighbor pulls the lever and agrees you as a citizen should have the same rights they have.

This past few years has been ugly. We have seen billions of dollars poured into campaigns, dollars that could have been better spent to feed and educate children, create jobs, research new technologies or study new cures. Instead, these dollars were spent to divide the nation, spread fear and lies, clog our airways with party ideology that did nothing to move us forward, nothing to solve our nation’s very real problems. I along with others, watched in outrage and horror as SCOTUS passed Citizen United and the Super Pacs came onto the political field. My repulsion grew exponentially as gerrymandering became de rigueur and new voter laws begin to pop-up with regularity where there was no reasonable cause.

Worse still, we missed it we missed the most important SCOTUS decision possibly of the century in 2000, in Bush v. Gore while we rung our hands and whined the election had been stolen we failed to see the writing on the wall, the future of our great nation hanging in the balance with these simple words:

 “the individual citizen has no federal constitutional right to vote.”

The state has preeminent rights, greater than individual citizens and greater than the federal government to direct voting. We, the people (remember us) do not have an affirmative right to vote in federal elections! Yes, you read that correctly. There are Constitutional Amendments, namely the 15th, 19th and 26th that prevent discrimination on the basis of Race, Gender and Age. These wonderful Amendments nevertheless do not provide an affirmative right to vote as an American Citizen, they only prevent discrimination where the State allows voting to occur.

What does this mean? Well, think of it this way, as a citizen you have the following:

  • A positive Right to own a Gun
  • A positive Right to Free Speech
  • A positive Right to Assembly and Protest
  • A positive Right to practice your Religion
  • A positive Right to Free Enterprise

You do not have the RIGHT TO VOTE. The right to vote, who will vote or how the electors to the Electoral College for your state will vote is in truth in the hands of your Governor and your Secretary of State. How do you like them apples? Everything the states did leading up to the Presidential Election of 2012, was legal. We might not have liked it. We might have recognized it for what it was and found it repugnant, but it was within the law.

What do we do now? SCOTUS said November 9th, they will hear a case on whether Congress exceeded its authority when they reauthorized the 1964 Voters Rights Act, specifically Section 5. This section requires States with a history of discrimination, gerrymandering and disenfranchising voters to submit changes to their voter laws to the Federal Government before they are enacted. Is there a correlation between the Courts decision to take this case up and the reelection of POTUS 44? The possibility certainly exists and we the people of this nation need to be watching this case along with others they have agreed to hear that quite possibly will change the will of the people as they legislate from the bench what is not the will of the people.

We have allowed this, in some cases encouraged this scourge on our national dialogue. We the people failed to see through bile being spread before us as Truth and the American Way instead we repeated it. We were sucked in. We engaged our friends and family members as if they were foes on the battlefield, all too often forgetting to dull the edge of our sharp tongues, forgetting sometimes we catch more fly’s with honey.  I am as guilty of this as many others, having had to fall on my sword more often than I can count. Having had to apologize to many I love for my acerbity.

We are a nation still divided. I am saddened by this great divide within our country. Separated not because we are really so different but rather because we have allowed those who do not have our best interest at heart to convince us we should be enemies. We have drawn lines in the sand and called them race, religion, gender, sexual orientation; what they really are the boxes others have placed for us to crawl into preventing us from getting to know our neighbors, preventing us from learning we might be friends. We have aligned behind ideologies, believing the talking points without digging down and asking questions and thus defending the indefensible. We have in fact allowed our great nation to be hijacked by two Parties the DNC and the GOP, two sides of a coin Heads I win Tails I lose, nothing in between no diplomacy, compassion or negotiation. Two sides embittered and embattled wanting nothing but power for powers sake, never mind the bodies left on the field in their wake.

Truly, is the middle so hard to find? I wonder, I do. So will I continue to write about politics, I will because I can’t help myself, it is my passion this nation of ours. It won’t be my only subject though, there are other things I think about, other passions I have.

So, for those I insulted with my acidic and barbed tongue, I hope you will forgive me. Believe me as often as I snap (I do I know despite my attempts to do otherwise) will be just that often that I will fall upon my sword and grovel for you forgiveness. My comments are never personal (well mostly never personal) and are never meant to attack anyone personally (mostly not).  

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Red Hat: Wag the Tail

November 4, 2012 by

My sister Red at Momma’s Money Matters comes to me today to share her discontent over the state of knowledge, especially about her wonderful home state of Louisiana. Red is a font of information, there is little she doesn’t know about her home, the people, food, music and its storied history. I also admit to taking a wee bit of pleasure poking and prodding her the day she wrote this (you will see). I am so glad my poking Red resulted in this marvelous Red Hat!

Red and I are of like minds in this area, we are so ignorant of our history and that ignorance is being spread. I hope you enjoy Red’s take on this particular and singular state of affairs, please do let her know.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Is my hat on straight? Oh, good. Let’s talk about what is making my tail the same color as my hair. History.

Sure. I should just get over it. It is in the past, and there is nothing I can do to change it, right? Wrong. Bear with me a moment (or seven).

We all want to believe no one would lie to us. We trust people. We care about people and want to believe they would never lead us astray. After all, for all the generations before writing was common, this was the way history was passed from generation to generation.

Knowingly, it is a pretty good bet they would not lie. Unknowingly, on the other foot, if they are regurgitating something they heard from someone they trusted not to lead them astray… And everyone now suddenly has a tin can on a ball of jute stretched over the generations and miles in a twisted game of telephone. No? How about an example from this week?

One of my friends from the blogosphere happens to live on the other side of the planet from me. He was interested in my heritage, and we began a conversation where he was going to dazzle me with his brilliant tidbits he had assembled from his travels and those who he trusted to teach him about the great big world outside Australia.

In our back-and-forth, I led each of my responses with the same word. “No.” Not one stinking thing he “knew” about the Free State of Louisiana was correct. Not from the immigration to the history to the present. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Rien. One giant honking goose egg.

Being a curious sort, I asked where he was getting his information. Hold onto your red hats. First, from his mate (That is the Aussie mate, not to confused with Mate, as in Val’s DB.) who has been a lifelong companion and globetrotter. Meh. I chalked mate up to tourist.

Second, his family. Apparently, someone was related to (third removed on the paternal, maternal side) someone who (This part gets kinda fuzzy.) either lived there or knew someone who was formerly married to someone who lived there. Is your tin can ringing yet?

Third, brace yourself… Wikipedia. O to the M to the G, are you effen serious?

Now, I do not claim to be an expert (in everything), but I can tell you with a large degree of certainty even studying things about history from viable sources can lead one astray. History is recorded by the victor, to whom go the spoils, including the bragging rights; however, blatant misuse of facts still in evidence is hardly forgivable.

Zydeco Joe Mouton

Case in point, we discussed zydeco music. He was certain it was played with specialized instruments. Well, I suppose you can call spoons and triangles specialized if you have the band’s initials carved on them.

Then, there was a discussion about Creoles. In the ultra-secret-squirrel discussion where he learned about the “American Negro”, he was proud to announce they immigrated in the 18th century. I cannot begin to tell you all the things wrong in that one sentence without a diatribe of over 2,000 words, so let’s move along. Shall we?

Now, my friend is blameless for everything before he opened his mouth. Except for the part about believing what he hears. And well, the part about not following up with someone else to see if the person who told him knew where Shinola was made. Oh, and the part about telling me the way things were. Then, there is that whole thing of reading it on the Internet. See, completely blameless. It could not possibly be his fault because these people would never lie to him, right? Hold on a moment; my tin can is ringing.

Oh, how could I have forgotten this part? There seems to be a show on television. [Brief pause for a caveat: I do not watch television.] The name of this production is Swamp People. It is a depiction of a breed of people Louisianans call River Rats.

Swamp People, Trapper Joe Tommy

Now, to the genteel this may sound harsh. Frankly, it is. They live in the swampy, marsh regions of the state and in the floodplains. (Look that up somewhere which is not Wikipedia.) They are mostly of Hispanic descent with enough French in the mix to still speak Coonass. They are categorized as Caucasian, but have dark, olive complexions, which tan dark roux during the summer; small, close-set, dark brown or black eyes; black hair; and elongated facial features set in small to average sized heads. In short, many have the appearance of the black rat which arrived in our fair state with the Spaniards.

Wait. What? No. Coonass is not a derogatory term or racial by any means. It refers to the Louisianans who are considered bilingual. I use the term “considered” because the language they speak is a pigeon form of both English and French, the official languages of Louisiana. See what I mean about rumors? Where do these things start? I know how they are perpetuated.

My darling (borrowed) audience, just because it is on television does not mean that it is true. (Adjusts hat to show tag which reads “Official Bubble Burster”.) In fact, what is on television is designed to engage you so you will sit still during the commercial, waiting on the edge of your seat for the program to return, thereby getting the advertiser’s message into your psyche which the show has peeled open.

Good advice is when you are showing off to someone about how much you know about where they grew up or spent the majority of their life, please, for the love of all that is holy, only speak about things you have personally witnessed or heard firsthand, since even these can be misleading. For cripes’ sake, do not ever quote something you see on prime time or syndicated television as fact. You are likely to get a different strain of hoof in mouth disease. Its main symptom is my size six stuck in your mouth.

Selected as perfection for curing foot in mouth

Instead, try reading a book published from your place of interest. Go to the location’s governmental website. View their onsite tourism information. Do not go to a website where anyone with an email address can “improve this article”.

My best advice? Ask questions. Nothing will animate your friend as much as giving up the floor for a rendition of When I was growing up in… There is a reason you have two ears and one mouth. There is an even bigger reason you were not born with a remote control in your hand. These are terrific examples of why.

I need to tip my Red Hat to my sister for pointing out, wait, that is not fair.

Not laughing at her, with her

She bet me Wikipedia would have the information wrong. During her drive home, she laughed at the string of obscenities and outbursts as I attempted to read the drivel-filled fantasy entry which passes for unsupported, unreferenced authority.

To say in the end I was thoroughly gobsmacked by the blatant disregard for facts which are readily available by natives in favor of engaging the Internet public at large (read writers who are in need of “web presence”) would be secondary to my righteous indignation at the utter lack of wherewithal of the administration of this site.

No doubt I am still…Red.

The perfect fit for my sister

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Our Body Our Self id

October 6, 2012 by

I have been thinking lately about how I see myself and it causes me some angst, this has been on my mind a weight on my heart even. I know, it shouldn’t I am a tough old broad, generally not given to inner flights of fancy or brooding about what cannot be changed. My fifty-fifth birthday has come and gone now, I am past middle age and heading towards, well something else entirely.

Why am I noodling this? What am I really talking about; I am talking about Me, Myself, I, Id, Ego; all the things that make me ME. More importantly, I am talking about what I see in the mirror of my mind versus how others judge me when they see me on the street or meet me for the first time. Perhaps even more hurtful it is how those close to me offer up their helpful suggestions and thoughts on my ‘health’ and appearance.

I wonder does it never cross their minds to ask, “How do you feel today?”

Can it be that even those closest to me have decided I made a personal choice and it was to be fat? Do the people who claim they love me honestly think (this is a stretch, the thinking part) this is the look I chose? That I enjoy being laughed at on the street, dismissed as lazy and worse stupid. Do those who profess their care for me truly believe I don’t see myself, know my ass enters the room approximately thirty-two seconds after my boobs? Do they think this doesn’t bother me?

Of course it does you bunch of insensitive social incompetents!

There was a time in my life I wanted to be a Ballerina, I wanted to float across the floor in beautiful flowing costumes en pointe’ making art with my body. Then my body betrayed me, my ballet teacher smacked my breasts emerging like angry beehives from my chest and explained in her thick Russian accent, “No prima ballerina has breasts like a peasant!”

Ten years of grinding practice only to be told my peasant breasts were not the stuff of ballerinas. Nevertheless, I continued to dance, because I loved it. I also took gymnastics, rode horses, skied, ran, played soccer and did many other things all because I loved them. After all, with prima ballerina off the table everything else was on! There were times I brutalized my body, it didn’t matter I just kept going. I tore my knees up; I would walk again long before they healed properly.

I learned many forms of dance from ballet to belly; dance was my favorite form of expression and art. Dance was my heart.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

100 pounds.

That is how much I gained in the first two years after I was shot. Sometimes I lose some of it. Then I have another setback, another surgery or another round of partial paralysis. The reality is I don’t think I will ever lose it, not ever. Before I was shot I had already gained weight, I was in a miserable marriage and I was unhappy, I wasn’t fat but I was no longer thin and perfect either.

I wonder I look at those words and I wonder no longer thin and perfect. What does that mean, perfect in what respect and perfect according to what measurement. Who or what am I measuring myself against?

Now at fifty-five I use wonderful words to describe myself, words like Zaftig, which is one of my favorites. I laugh along with others at the shallowness of a society that would dare to judge me on my dress size without taking the time to value my intellect, my capabilities or my accomplishments. The reality is their judgment hurts. My own judgment hurts truthfully I am diminished by both.

Don’t you want to lose weight?

I am asked this question quite frequently. The answer is always the same, of course I do you nitwits. I also want to live without pain, wake up every morning leap out of bed without any numb spots anywhere on my body. Given a choice, I will take pain free over thin any day of the week. I won’t achieve that one in my lifetime either.

Would I like to lose weight?

Certainly, I would love to lose weight. I would love to shop in stores that didn’t specialize for ‘fat girls’. I would love to go to the gym and not feel ashamed; in fact, I would love to not be afraid to go to the gym.

I would like to go to the gym and take a yoga class where not everyone looked like they just stepped off the pages of Cosmopolitan. Why isn’t there ever a beginner’s class for fat people?

I would like to go to the gym and not feel like an alien, not be stared at as if I belonged somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

I would like for people to see me and not judge me. I would like to look in the mirror and not judge myself.

Why in the hell do gyms have so many damned mirrors anyway?

Kirstie Alley before and after at least she still looks like a woman

I would like to not be asked by those who profess to love me why I don’t lose weight. I would love, just once for someone, anyone who loves me to ask me how I feel today.

I have read so many great blogs recently on the subject of our bodies and social judgment; one stands out in part because as a woman it hit home I hope you will go read Sweet Mother http://sweetmotherlover.wordpress.com/2012/10/03/dear-fat-dudes/

I previously wrote this, a lighter look at the subject. https://valentinelogar.com/category/personal-notes/

The truth  is, this might just be my reality. I can eat the best I can. I can walk on the days I am not hurting so badly it is all I can do to crawl out of bed. I can try to overcome my fear of the gym, but I suspect that one is harder than anyone can imagine. My truth is, I live within the body I have and it doesn’t love me. I don’t fit the world and I don’t have the fight left to force the issue. We are so shallow we are willing to diminish anyone that doesn’t fit our narrow vision of beauty forgetting there is a whole person inside the body we judge not good enough. So today I will cheer for those women like Jennifer Livingston who was brave enough to address the man who berated her for her ‘choice’ to be obese. I wish more of us were willing to stand up to those who are so socially inept, cruel and frankly stupid.

Filed Under: Personal Notes, Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

Awards, I suck at this

September 15, 2012 by

I have some catching up to do; I suck at this I think I might always suck at this. It isn’t that I am humble; I am just somewhat lazy I suspect. Some very kind and wonderful people have given me and my blog a nod, awarding my blog awards. This really is kind and I feel honored by their recognition, really I do; it is always nice when fellow bloggers recognize your work, not at least accepting their recognition is somewhat like giving the finger to the Academy Awards Show when you win Best anything.

Without further ado, let’s get right to it, shall we?

From Sapna at Just Another Wake Up Call, I was given the Sunshine Award. This was truly nice because compared to her frequently uplifting, insightful and truly loving entries I can be a bit of a downer. I encourage everyone to visit Sapna, I certainly do whenever I see she has posted again.

http://justanotherwakeupcall.wordpress.com/

Sunshine Award –

  • Love or Money

Why not both? Really I don’t believe love can withstand poverty any more than money can buy real love. Nevertheless, why do I have to choose? I want both, I want love and to work with that person I love to obtain a life together that is without abject poverty.

  • High Salary or Job Satisfaction

When we are young I think we should go for the most money we can make learning all the things we can learn. Unless we are lucky enough to land in the career we love the first time out, we should move about, skip jobs as often as possible, find mentors and continue to search for what we love. Go for it! Earn as much as possible. Fight for every dime you can make. The truth is you only have about thirty years of true productivity. Once you hit your fifties your earnings will start to diminish in most career paths, then you can follow your passions.

  • Favorite Book

The next award will delve into my favorite books so I am skipping this one for now.

  • Television Character you adore

I don’t actually have one of these. Can I say Rachel Maddow? Not really a character, but she is funny and smart.

  • Favorite music

70’s Rock –n- Roll, R & B, Soul, Blues and Lyle Lovett

  • Favorite type of movie

I don’t have a favorite type. I watch all types depending on my mood at the time I sit down. I could give you a few of my favorite all time movies, which might give you an idea of how truly, eclectic I am:

Streets of Fire The Commitments
Pretty Baby Million Dollar Baby
Little Shop of Horrors Heartbreak Ridge
American Werewolf In London Underworld
Dracula (with Frank Langella) Bram Stokers Dracula

Now that I have shown my mostly juvenile taste in movies, no class I know. Shall we move on?

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My friend at Fifty-Four and a Half often speaks her mind and my own. She does so with a great deal of wisdom and far more diplomacy than I am ever able to muster. I have enormous, gargantuan, gigantic respect for her. She is also kind, funny and compassionate. I am gratified that she offered me this –

Please visit my friend at: http://fiftyfourandahalf.com/

What do I have to do? Only tell you about five books I love. I could I suppose tell you about five books I love right now, that would perhaps make you rush to the store and buy them. Instead I am going to tell you about five books I simply love and why.

In no particular order:

Swan Song – a dark look at human nature at the apocalypse, the ultimate fight of good vs. evil. I think I have read this book at least five times. The author has a way with characters and words, with emotional balance. I have read most of his work, much of it is dark; Swan Song remains my favorite. If you read and enjoyed The Stand, this is graduate studies.

The Rights of Man – I read this first when I was 14 as a classroom assignment. My Social Studies teacher assigned it to his ‘advanced’ students; I suspect to make us shut the hell up. Since that time I have revisited Thomas Paine time and again, quoted him more than once. His views, while not always aligned with my own because of the two hundred years that separate us, are fascinating but especially in this book must be taken in context with the purpose of the book, a direct rebuke of Edmund Burke in “Reflections on the Revolution in France”.

Half The Sky – what can I say about this book? This is a modern day censure of all of us and any of us. We are so damned concerned about our small lives sometimes we conveniently forget the greater world that fails to thrive. Half the Sky reminds us that modern day slavery still exists; women especially are vulnerable, living without protection, living brutal lives. It is written in a way not to titillate but instead simply introduces us to another side of life and to some of life stories of women who escaped forced prostitution to make new lives, women who were willing to tell their stories so we could become more aware. This is an amazing book, an amazing outreach. I had to read it slowly, now I am searching for ways to help.

The Hobbit & Lord of the Rings – my father first gave me the Hobbit for Christmas when I was 12-years old. I curled into myself and read it straight through on rainy days and nights in Seattle. I begged for the remainder of the books after that and read them over the remainder of the year, one after the other. I have read this series more times than I can count between then and now, each time taking something different away from the stories. I have always believed the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings was the most finely crafted allegory ever written.

The Handmaids Tale – I struggled with picking the last one on my list, there are so many I love. Ultimately I had to pick the one I just recently went back to, this book grabbed me off my bookshelf shook me like a wet dog and said “READ ME AGAIN, Dammit!” Margaret Atwood has the ability, with words to paint pictures of and for women, to make us consider options that we should not wish for and futures that are bleak in worlds not meant for freedoms or joy. This one is timely and frightening.

Now I am supposed to only tell you about five books, but I just have to give a shout out to one of my favorite giggle books:

 

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Finally, my friend at Why am I here in a handbasket nominated me for this one:

Her quick takes are funny and to the point. I love making stops at her blogs for outtakes on life; they are never off target even if sometimes uncomfortable. She often makes me laugh out loud in the middle of taking a drink of coffee. I encourage you to stop by.

That being said, here are seven (7) things about me:

  1. I have fourteen tattoos, no they don’t hurt but I surely felt the pain getting them
  2. I have five (5) full blood siblings, 3 known ½ siblings, 7 step-siblings, 1 adopted sibling
  3. I have been married more than two times, no I won’t tell you how many more than two
  4. I will be 55 years old this month
  5. I own 100 pairs of high heels
  6. I was born with three nipples, had I been born 200 years earlier they would have burned me at the stake as a witch
  7. I have had more than 30 surgeries

That is it. I am also supposed to pick bloggers I love, or bloggers who deserve awards. However, my notion is everyone I follow and read deserve them. If you haven’t got one of these, grab one and follow the rules!Or grab this one, the only rule on this one is link back to me and tell me and everyone else the one thing you would like to do to make the world better.

Filed Under: Awards, Personal Notes Tagged With: ,

Letting go of Animosity

September 9, 2012 by

Last week I was in Seattle where both my mother’s live, what a strange twist of circumstance and fate that is. Originally my trip was planned so I could step into the role I have always played so well, the one I am so expert at, Bad and Evil Daughter to my second mother. The plan was for me to move my second mother from the apartment she had lived in for 28 years to Assisted Living, all in a single fell swoop.

The strategy was laid. The deposit was made on her new apartment in the Assisted Living place; it is literally two blocks from where she is now. It is a nice apartment, frankly nicer than where she is living today. The movers were arranged for and the time agreed. Her home care support was notified so they could start preparing her, reminding her she was moving. My second mother has dementia, her memory and cognitive skills on a scale of 1 to 5, five being the best, are approaching two now.

I was going to spend my Labor Day weekend moving my second mother into her new Assisted Living facility. It isn’t what I wanted to do and I approached this task with much trepidation, some resentment and frankly some fear. Anyone who has read Broken Chains knows the story of my relationship with my second mother, the time leading up to this weekend had been filled with a great deal of soul searching and angst. I landed in Seattle Thursday night though and made my way to the hotel with some peace in my heart. It would all be fine, my brother was convinced all the pieces were in place and everything would be fine.

Well, maybe not so fine. The movers, who were supposed to arrive at 9am on Friday morning, arrived at 7am instead. Was I confused? I am certain I wasn’t, in fact I had the move confirmation right there on my handy CrackBerry, right there in green and lime green, 9am. Nevertheless, let me rush across the bridge to and get things moving. When I arrived at my second mom’s apartment, no one was there but her and she was still in bed sound asleep. You cannot get a 92-year-old woman with dementia out of bed and tell her, “come on old woman it’s moving day!” This is simply not the way things work, hell this approach wouldn’t work for me and I am significantly younger. It took her nearly 20 minutes to realize who I was and that I was there, in her apartment.

We talked about her move. She was genuinely confused and resistant to any thought of moving. She doesn’t remember falling and has remained on the floor until her home aid comes the next day. She believes she can continue to live independently and that she is not a danger to herself. She doesn’t remember that she forgets to eat or that she has bouts of incontinence. We had the same conversation at least seven times in the space of an hour.

I called my brother in Korea, it was 3am there but I did not care because I was doing this for him. He didn’t want to be the Bad and Evil Son. We had gone through this with our father who had Alzheimer’s, my brother didn’t understand how bad it was, how horrific the failure was. My brother couldn’t face the failure of our fathers mind. Now we faced the same issue, he didn’t understand or couldn’t face the failure of our mother; she said ‘yes’ but did not retain the information.

I sent the movers away agreeing to pay for their time. I sat with my second mother and continued to talk about the move, about what she needed to make her comfortable with it. I wrote on her White Board, “You Are Moving to Ballard Manor”. I gave money to her favorite caregiver to buy moving boxes so she could start sorting some of her personal things when Veronica was with her, it helps her to feel in control.

I will never hear from my second mother the words I spent my entire life wishing to hear; never will I hear any of these;

Mom and I, San Marco Square, Venice Italy 1965

“I love you”

“I am sorry I hurt you”

“I understand”

Despite my original trepidation, anger and fear going out to Seattle to be the Bad and Evil Daughter, I am glad I went. Although I don’t think my mother knows this, we made peace. She is at the end of her life and I realized in sitting with her over the days I was there, despite it all she deserves my protection and care. For her humanity, for the fact that she was so greatly damaged as a child and was unable to heal throughout her long life she deserves my protection and care. I came away knowing I would always have a small hole, but it was one I could fill by preserving her dignity.

To the other side of this trip, the time I didn’t know I would have I filled in a way I hadn’t originally considered. Early this year I had reached out my first mother, we hadn’t spoken in several years and at the urging of one of my siblings I opened the communication door again. I wanted to repair old wounds and re-create a relationship with my first mother; we had a rocky start the first time. With this in mind, well I just picked up the phone and called asking if I could come to Vashon Island for to visit.

Ferry to Vashon Island

Why not? Surprise I am here!

One visit turned into two, they were both wonderful and peaceful. We were both I think changed in some fundamental ways by life and our experiences. We were both different and the same, but both ready for a different relationship with each other. For me, it was easier to internalize ‘this is my mother, blood and she did what was best.’ I had always pragmatically thought so, but my emotions had overruled my thinking and I wanted to lay at her feet so much of my pain, even when I didn’t realize I was doing this. I can’t speak for her, but at least on the surface she was softer though I worry for her health.

The bonus visit was with one of my siblings, a younger sister! I learned something on this trip, though in my head I have always known. I have this large extended family, some of whom I keep up with at least within the context of social media and some of whom I rarely talk to at all. I think we do ourselves such a grave and terrible disservice by losing sight of the bonds that tie us together. We don’t have to love one another, but at least for me given my status as an adopted child I want at least the chance to know who I love and whether I can love you before I let go entirely.

If you are confused by my references to mothers:

First Mother – my biological mother

Second Mother – my adopted mother

Filed Under: Family Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

Gentle Shackles

August 23, 2012 by

My second mother is 92 years old, that is a lot of years to live. For most of the past twenty-five years she and I have been estranged, or maybe a better description of our relationship is distant. I acknowledge she exists, at Christmas and on her Birthday I send a card, flowers and a $100 gift certificate to Nordstroms; she rarely ever remembers to thank me and I have long since stopped caring.

My second mother has spent the better part of the past forty years telling anyone who would listen what a miserable daughter I am. I have never defended myself nor attempted to correct her version of the truth, except with her. Ultimately I stopped trying to correct her and stopped looking for an apology.

I have covered all this before, I apologize if some of that seemed redundant.

As the day grows closer to her move to Assisted Living,  I realize I will have to get on a plane and take on the role of ‘caretaker’ to a woman I have, at best, a difficult relationship with and conflicted feelings for. I am still dancing around some very difficult and delicate realities. Initially I thought I could just deal with the checkboxes of what needs to be done; you know make a list of what it will take to move this woman from one place to the other. As anyone knows who has had to undertake moving an elderly parent it isn’t easy, there is a ton, a lifetime of emotional baggage. You can’t just swoop in and say to them, ‘come on old woman time to pack it in, we’re heading over to this strange new place where the nice people will take care of you.’

This is especially true when you are talking about me and my second mother, we barely speak, barely know each other and I am not at all certain she trusts me.

But this doesn’t change the what has to be done or the reality of our situation, I am still left with the hard part. It also doesn’t change that underneath my somewhat tough exterior I am mushy, I have compassion and I am even likely a kind person (please don’t tell). My second mother is old, she has a touch of dementia and from all reports she isn’t doing all that well mentally. I feel sorry for her. My brother left this too long, he should have insisted she make this move two years ago but he didn’t. Now it is left to me because he can’t get home from Korea soon enough. At the end of the day I suspect I will wind up the bad guy, the one with the hard job. Funny I have always been the ‘bad’ daughter and her biggest disappointment, now I will be the ‘evil’ daughter the one who packs her off to assisted living potentially ‘against her will’. He will swoop in a few weeks later and pacify her and listen to her complaints, commiserate even; but it will all be done. Everything will be as it always has been.

I know this is the right thing for her. She cannot continue to live alone, she is not safe. I think there is something I am supposed to learn from this, perhaps some forgiveness I am supposed to achieve in this process, some softening of my hard-heart. Some peace I can gain, I hope so. Two weeks ago I was very angry and had a very difficult time with the situation I was left in. The more time I have the more I am able to find some peace in myself, though I haven’t yet figured out why this is left to me.

My brother hopes I will finally stop hating my second mother, he doesn’t understand I haven’t hated her in decades, I simply find a relationship with her to be toxic and not in my best interest.

My brother also doesn’t understand if I didn’t love him I would not do this. My true compassion is for him. I think I know in my heart, he left this so long because he couldn’t do this it is too hard. My big tough Special Forces Iron Man brother can’t do a little thing like move an old lady for her own good.

So one more time I am going to go be the bad daughter, the evil one. I think I am actually okay this time. Maybe my chains are finally falling away gently.

Filed Under: Series: Broken Chains Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Native Tongue

August 20, 2012 by

One day not so long ago and not so long after I bought both my two new computers I had a problem, not a small problem either. Indeed no, it wasn’t a tiny problem that I could simply reboot and solve, were that it I would have done so. This was an ugly and profound problem, a problem none of us wants to see and especially with a brand spanking new and very expensive computer.

What the hell!

I had built this lovely from the ground up. Extra everything, it was turbo charged, built for speed.

What the hell!

I had also paid a pretty penny to have all my software loaded, the latest and greatest from Bill Gates, not just the basics but also all those business applications I need for my work. Things most people don’t need and perhaps hadn’t even heard of, pre-loaded and send me the CD’s just in case.

What the hell!

There I was though on a Friday morning, in a panic. I wasn’t sweating bullets yet; all my work was backed up. I hadn’t lost my work. Nevertheless, there I am on hold, waiting for Customer Service to come on the line to tell me what I need to do to recover my brand spanking new computer.

Did I mention I had dual hard drives? Oh, well I had dual hard drives yet still there I was, with;

What the hell!

Finally, Prem came on the line. He was very helpful he told me I had two hard drives and could I please boot my system so he could remotely log on.

Really? I explained I was unable to do so but would be happy to try if he would explain to me how I could do this.

Prem got very frustrated at my stupidity. Clearly the failed hard drive was my fault.

I asked to speak to his supervisor. Prem hung up on me instead.

What the hell?

I called back, when I finally got another customer service person on the line I explained the problem and asked to speak to a supervisor. This person was reluctant to pass me to a supervisor, but after a five-minute conversation did so.

Fasid, was very polite and explained to me he could not find Prem’s notes thus could not find any record of my previous conversation. I would have to start from the beginning, would I mind very much if he took control of my computer to discover the problem?

“No of course not, except my main Hard Drive has failed and I cannot boot up. The hard drive needs to be replaced. The computer is under warranty and I want you to send out the part with a technician to fix it. That is what I pay for.”

Fasid explained to me that he wasn’t authorized to do that, but he would send the request to another group who would call me back when they were in the office in two hours.

So I waited. What the Hell!

David Chen called me back late that afternoon; he was from the ‘Customer Care’ department. He wanted to know why I had lodged a complaint. Really?

  1. I have a business account with your company
  2. I bought two computers from you less than 6 weeks ago for a total of $4,900 including hardware, software and warranty
  3. One of those computers has failed, it is my primary computer for work
  4. I spent the better part of 4 hours on the phone this morning with people who would not resolve the problem, who hung up on me, who were not authorized to fix the problem or who did not speak the language well enough to understand the problem
  5. I have waited more than 6 hours for someone to call me back, meanwhile my computer still does not work

David was very conciliatory. Well I guess he had to be he was in customer care. He confirmed my hard drive had failed and he ordered the part and the service. Initially he tried to tell me this would take at least a week, but I reminded him I had paid the extra warranty. I also reminded him I lived less than 15 miles from one of their plants, I could walk there faster than he was proposing to have the part. He also proposed I could replace the hard drive myself, again I read the warranty to him. Not only would he send the technician to replace the part, they were responsible for making certain my hard drive was operational.

Then we talked about my unhappiness with the customer service experience. I obviously was unhappy with that morning. I was especially unhappy with Prem, who had hung up on me. Prem had another problem though, he could not speak English very well and he spoke very softly. I was continually asking him to repeat himself so I could understand what he was saying. I get it, organizations have outsourced and off-shored their tech support. There is no turning back from this and all the complaints in the world are not going to change this trend, it is here to stay. But can we at least set the standard, please. Can we at least say if you are servicing English speakers you must have conversational English, servicing French speakers you must have conversational French, and so on. Is this too much to ask?

Apparently, this particular computer company has found another source of revenue based on the complaints and feedback on this issue. David suggested I sign up for the added benefit of Native Tongue Customer Service at the low cost of $35 per year.

What the Hell !

Filed Under: Series: Red Hat Moments Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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