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Unicorn Kisses

May 9, 2014 by

1960 LindaSome of you might know I am a collector of Art; specifically I am a collector of body art or more commonly known as a Tattoo. I received my first tattoo when I was just 17, yes, I was underage but people weren’t quite as careful way back then. I don’t remember the shop but I still remember the why and the where.  Tattooing was different those many years ago and Crazy Charlie, though he did a great job and I had that tat for many a year, I long since covered it up.

Over the years, I have covered a few of my originals; sometimes I cover them simply because I want something new and sometimes because the meaning is no longer meaningful. I have never, not once walked into a shop where I didn’t know what I wanted, never looked at Tattoo flash and pointed at something and said, ‘put that on my body’. Everything inked onto my skin has meaning, most is custom designed from art I take into the shop with me, but sometimes it is concept art I have worked with an artist to design for me. All of my art is specific and personal.

I get there are people out there in the world who take great exception to my decoration. Some who even feel the need to express their opinions to me regarding my personal choice to tattoo my body. I find their need pathetic frankly, this being especially true given their contribution to my life otherwise. Some of my favorites from the otherwise non-contributing members of my life:

  • What will they look like when you are 80?

o   Who cares? You will not be here and it is likely those who love me will continue to love me whether my skin is inked and sagging or not.DSC_0262

  • You will go straight to hell (Leviticus 19:28).

o   According to the standard you are using for my eventual afterlife residence, so will you; see you there save a room for me, preferably not next door you judgmental twit.

  • No one will hire you with all those tattoos, you look like a cheap slut.

o   Really? How would you quantify whether I am cheap or not? Someone has to pay for my rather costly artwork.

During the course of my marriage, my desire for new art was a point of contention. In fact the words, ‘If you get a new tattoo, I will leave your ass’, were often said. I wonder, why the hell did he ever marry someone with ink if he felt that way? During our first separation, I got new ink. Within a month of his most recent departure, I got new ink again; in fact, I have been adding the ink I have been thinking about for a decade.

Now to my favorite part of being part of the approximately 21% of all adults who are Tattooed in the US today:

Does it hurt?

Why of course not it feels like Unicorn Kisses!

Who does my work? James Yokum of Saints and Sinners, I love them all, but he has finished two of the three pieces I have added since December. We are in the process of adding my largest piece ever, four sessions, with two down and the third starting tonight. Does it hurt? My friend and favorite photographer Christ Hanna (he continues to be my hero and did a fabulous job under less than ideal circumstances) of Posture Studios agreed to something slightly different in terms of a photo session, here are the results:

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The meaning of this piece, why she is important to me:

  • Gerber Daisy = Innocence
  • Peony = Healing, Compassion, also the Greek God of Healing (Paeon)
  • Peacock Feathers = Compassion, Wisdom, Knowledge; also, in ancient times used for writing of importance.
  • Sugar Skull = often used to celebrate lost loved one, in this case I have placed it where I have lost an entire part of my body feeling due to my injuries. I am celebrating I am still standing, living and whole despite it all. In effect, she is I.

Victorious, yes I am that though I might feel slighty overcome at this moment in time. This piece in particular reminds me I have overcome obstacles including being told I would never walk again, let alone dance in high-heels. I am learning though life can be hard I am Victorious it is simply a matter of slipping on my stilettoes sometimes and dancing.

Right Shoulder

The Wheel of Fortune (beautiful isn’t she) reminds me I cannot control everything, despite being a bit of control freak by nature. Outside influences may direct my life and I must learn to let go of both my expectations and my demands even while not becoming complacent.

Left Shouder

The last one, it is a bit more complicated. Suffice to say it is another victory symbol that allows me too remember I remain in charge of my destiny. I rise above the ashes of failure and I am my own knight in shining armor.

Left back shoulder

Does it hurt? Yes, it hurts. It is no worse than many other things that hurt. Some people say you will never meet a person with two tattoos. Either the pain is too much and you stop at one, or you fall in love (grow addicted) to the sensation. Some of us who collect ink, we also know there is a correlation between this level of pain, chocolate and one other thing all of which sends the same hormone to our brains, which might account for the rising number of women who are inked.

Other pieces I have added over the years:

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Ours don’t come as easily, you have to work for it. Do you know what I am talking about? Feel free to leave your guesses in the comments section.

Some History you might find interesting.

Smithsonian History of Tattoo

PBS: Skin Stories

A Brief History of Tattoos

Tattoo Statistics, Pew Research

Tattoo Statistics, Harris Research more comprehensive

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

Morning Dances

May 8, 2014 by

Warning – Erotica Adult over 18 Only

 

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Your skin reminds me of cinnamon and ginger, that tang of spices fresh and burning on the tongue

Early in the morning I want to inhale you, you sleep cold

You say I am a furnace keeping you warm as you wrap yourself around me

You say I am your anchor; we fall asleep tangled together at night

Every morning you are wrapped around me sharing my heat

My breasts settled heavily in your hand and you nestled between my legs

The sheets are damp, from your sleep and our lovemaking of the night before

Your skin is covered in a sheen of sweat and your spice scent

I sleep too hot in your arms yet am reluctant to leave for cooler climes

Moving will wake you; the scent of your skin sends small shivers down my spine

I push back at you, your arm tightens around me instinctively capturing and slowing movement

You tighten yourself against my back pulling me closer, making us one

Your breath lifts my hair as you nestle closer still, holding tightly

Your breath settles back to the rhythm of slumber even while your body wakes

Slowly we begin to move together with recognized rhythms of morning

We barely move yet the universe spins us outward stars brighten then explode

The flavor of your spice heightened by our morning dance on sunbeams is on my tongue

As our rhythm moves from Tango to Salsa, your hands glide from breast downward

The sun warms you, as I have through the night your slumber undisturbed even as I say good morning

Each of us smile as we settle into our day anchored by the other, your spice fills the room

You have rolled over to the spot I have left and grabbed my pillow, do I leave a scent too

Valentine, 1-May-2014

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: ,

Bring them Back and More

May 7, 2014 by

OpEd#BringBackOurGirls

Have you seen that one floating around? Do you know what it means? If not, you aren’t the only one, but it is pitiful and horrifying you don’t know. For the past two days, I have searched for a source to tell me how many times any one media outlet mentioned the kidnappings in Nigeria, I couldn’t find one. Finally, today I gave up, this is too important it lays heavy on my heart and needs saying.

What has been trending since 15 April:

  • Benghazi (FAUX) – Repeatedly this one rises to the top of the heap of the GOP manure pile of scandals. Never mind it has been debunked; never mind it is a waste of TAXPAYER MONEY. Never mind, it is pure and unadulterated BULLSHIT. Yes, I said it and I apologize if I offended you; this tripe remains front and center in the hearts and minds of FAUX, the GOP and their funding partners for one reason only, to discredit this President and future Democratic contenders. Nothing more or less. The willingness of their mindless followers to believe anything assure them zombie like adherence to whatever drivel they offer up as proof of malfeasance.
  • Malaysia Flight 370 (CNN) – I am not saying this wasn’t a tragedy, certainly it was. However, CNN led with this story for six (6) weeks. During this same period, other things happened in the world, other tragedies of equal if not greater import.

o   Crimea, Ukraine and Putin

o   SCOTUS and the new rules of uncapping contribution rules make it even easier to buy a politician, a party or for that matter a seated Supreme Court Justice

o   Tragedy at Fort Hood, Texas, four (4) dead including the gunman, sixteen (16) wounded.

o   School stabbing in Pittsburgh, when a student wanders through the halls with a kitchen knife stabbing his classmates. Twenty wounded, no deaths.

o   Mudslide in Oso, Washington left behind forty-one (41) confirmed dead, two (2) still missing and millions in damages.

o   The capsize of MV Sewol with 476 passengers on April 16, resulting in the loss of 240 lives, most of them students.

  • Cliven Bundy – enough said really. Hero till he turned zero. Criminal, bigot and fool.
  • IRS Scandal – really, yes. It’s this one is still out there and still being talked about both by the GOP and by FAUX. They cannot let this go. Not if there is a shred of possibility, an iota of opportunity, a dribble of slobber to catch in the drool cup that is the GOP witch-hunt. Today alone, there is no less than four different Right-Wing blathers plus the latest in Congressional attempts to push the envelope, specifically the House Rules Committee considering holding Lois Lerner, former IRS official in contempt.
  • Climate Change Denial – this one, it goes along with the entire issue of deregulate the world and we might consider bringing jobs back to America. You might include the other fun ideological standard, thought but never said aloud, “your water is burning, your children are sick and your rivers are sludge…don’t worry that is actually the way it is supposed to be, don’t you remember before all these job killing regulations were there and you had jobs”.
  • ACA Failure – yes, they are still harping on this one, over and over and over again. If it isn’t one thing it is another. The worst part of the problem though, they don’t just whine they lie. I wouldn’t mind a difference of opinion on policy, but the outright lies, the putting real humans at risk this truly does bother me.

Now back to where I started.

#BringBackOurGirls

bringbackthenames

The names of the lost girls, this is what it looks like. Stark and real.

On April 15th, 230 School girls were kidnapped from the Chibok Government Secondary. Notice the date? Right, it is during the same six (6) weeks I was documenting CNN’s enthrallment with the lost flight 370. Not once that I could find did they ever mention this tragedy, not once. I could be wrong, but I couldn’t find it. Certainly FAUX didn’t mention it and I couldn’t find it elsewhere either.

Why did I want it separate? It is simple really; this is a real tragedy, happening to real people. These are young girls with their lives before them, kidnapped and potentially sold into slavery, married off or worse for what any of us might spend on a large coffee and a donut. This horror wasn’t reported, not by FAUX certainly and since they set the standard for the circus, not by any other station. This is a truth, where FAUX goes the rest follow. If FAUX screams Benghazi, no matter how played out this story, CNN, MSNBC and the rest of them follow tails tucked firmly between their legs and tongues hanging hoping for a bone. The rest of the media ignores everything and anything that might be of real value, have real truth-telling for those who don’t give two tinkers damn what the GOP, the Kochs or the morally bankrupt talking heads of FAUX think.

How did we fall so far? It is simple; we turned our backs and allowed apathy to win. We tuned in and tuned out. We allowed ourselves to be lulled by the soothing voice, the pretty face until it all seemed ‘smart’ and it was too late. We failed to verify, failed to demand truth, fairness and above all ethical reporting. Now what we have is entertainment with zero value.

Now what we have is 300 young girls in a nation FAUX doesn’t deem important enough to report on, 300 young girls of a complexion FAUX doesn’t deem ‘beautiful’ enough to care about, 300 young girls of a religion FAUX doesn’t deem ‘right’; 300 young girls who might never be reunited with their families because it took to long for their story to hit the mainstream.

What it took for the story of these young girls and their tragedy to hit the mainstream is the voices of their families to reach non-traditional media outlets, twitter, bloggers and Facebook.

 

Do I seem bitter? Yes, I am bitter, I am bitter because this isn’t just these girls, though their story is the most tragic and the most important. I am bitter because as we fight to change the course of the nation and the world, we are fighting what seems a losing battle against a monolithic media force that seems to own the minds of a zombie horde. The good being done by our President, by our Vice President, by our First Lady, by others in the administration are lost in the FAUX news blathering and it is only through the concerted efforts of a few voices we hear.

Yes, I am bitter. I was told recently well placed hate can be a force for good, I believe I am learning this might be true.

For now, get informed and get involved:

Read related posts with information about this tragedy here:

Petitioning World Leaders, The ObamaCrat

#Bring Back Our Girls, The ObamaCrat

Bring Back Our Girls

U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder Offers Law Enforcement Help For Kidnapped Nigerian Girls

Lost Girls

Nigeria Abducted School Girls

#BringBackOurGirls: Extremist Islam Is Scared Of Little Girls

Get Involved:

Facebook: Bring Back Our Girls

Twitter: @Rescueourgirls

Change Org Petition Bring Back Our Girls

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Filed Under: Op Ed Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Memories in a Box

May 4, 2014 by

Sleeping BeautyYesterday I started boxing up memories. This means preserving them, but putting them away so they don’t hurt my heart anymore when I stumbled across them. I have seventeen years of memories; they twine through multiple homes, various milestones, holidays on different continents and of course the lives of my children. It is difficult to box memories, impossible to pretend there aren’t happy, even joyful times preserved in those pictures, impossible to pretend they did not happen. Yes, they happened and I was there, that smile was real and those times were not false, they simply didn’t lead to the ending any of us wanted.

It is difficult to forgive yourself; your failures sit on your heart. Eventually though, they open the door to what isn’t yours, what you don’t own and how you didn’t fail. As I began to sort through hundreds of pictures, some in albums and some loose I realized there were two of us, not just me. Two of us who journeyed, two of us standing before the minister making promises, two of us living under the roof of our various homes and yes two of us fighting the battles. The problem was there was only one of us leaving, twice. Only one of us ultimately unwilling to fight for our marriage. Only one of us so angry they were willing to throw everything away. I realized looking at those pictures, both of us were wrong, both of us did wrong, both of us failed; not just one and finally I forgave myself and refused the entire blame.

Like many of you, I choose love. Always, I choose love when I can, when it is offered and I am not petrified, I admit I am often petrified. I also often choose to love the unattainable, the unlovable, the out-of-reach, those who do not wish love or stand beyond love. I think I know why I do this; it is honestly safer isn’t it? Because as I said, I am petrified, of love of being loved, or maybe of not being enough to keep love and being rejected, shoved aside and turned away from.

I have a friend, someone who has known me for more than thirty years she says on the face of it I am a romantic; I like the idea of being loved and in love. The other thing she says is I choose men who are ultimately not worthy of my love, men who will walk away or who I will walk away from. She says I will always love men who will remain out of reach, either emotionally or literally unattainable and in this way, I keep myself shielded from any real hurt or invasion of my personal space.

Is she right? I truly do not know the answer to this, on the surface it seems she might be. If this is the truth, it would seem I have another thing to forgive myself for.

My divorce, yes I finally said it, draws to a conclusion, the final decree being signed by both of us and presented to a judge sometime in the next week. I look down a future of alone and realize I am building around myself a640px-Aurora_and_the_forest_of_thorns protective tower, like Rapunzel or Sleeping Beauty, no way in or out. No one is doing this but me, for now I think this is the safe choice. I might wish otherwise, maybe a knight willing to brave the wicked witch that is my alter ego or the protective thorn forest that is my history; yet, I have to wonder does that man actually exist? Is this simply my romanticism attempting to convince me to at least leave a light on, a way in.

For now, I think I will keep the lights off, romanticism held closely at bay no matter my instinct to reach out, choose love. Memories to box both tangible and in my head, fortunately I have the practice to be successful at both. The ability to express love, desire, fear and all the other emotions of our humanity will find outlets in other forms; thankfully, I have given myself permission to open new doors both those which I have always followed but kept secret and some new.

So for now, I wait to see what is next. Tomorrow is a new day; I find I am not as afraid as I was last month. Sure, there are still things that make me catch my breath and want to scream, not as often though. Certainly, there are things that make me want to fling myself to the floor and have a tantrum like a two-year-old, not as frequently as last month though.

For now, I will simply try to find small pleasures; perhaps they will grow and untangle and maybe someday I will put the light on.

Filed Under: Series: Dumpster Diving Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Really, Post Racial

May 3, 2014 by

OpEdWe are living in a ‘Post Racial Society’, isn’t that what those in the know want us to believe? Do you believe we are living in the fantasyland the pundits gleefully spew forth? Yeah, well neither do I but you have to give them credit for trying. It would be interesting, if a bit filthy, to open up their minds and see if they actually believe it themselves.

In the last few weeks, we were treated to some real cretins, lacking in any form of social grace or guile they have spewed the vile bigotry into our homes through the airwaves. Granted, at least one of them didn’t intend his remarks to reach our ears, they did though and we hung on every disastrous word. Interestingly, these two cases have nothing in common and their outcomes cannot be compared, except for one very specific point; they prove beyond a doubt we do not live in a Post Racial Society when it comes Power, Politics and Legislation, but we might be making baby steps as a society.

I am more than certain you know who I am talking about, but just in case you have been under a rock or meditating your navel in a cave;

Cliven Bundy, the man Fox, et al tried hard to turn into a folk hero until he suggested the ‘Negro’ were better off in slavery. Shock and awe, his words sent all his hero worshippers scurrying for cover, he said what they thought, ‘damn why’d he have to go and do that?’ The truth is, all those folks from Congress to the talking heads at Fox, they didn’t just latch on to ole’ Cliven because he made good sense espousing the Federal Government didn’t exist and his theory of Eminent Domain, there was another reason. I will get there, give me a minute.

Cliven_Donald

Then we had that wonder of the 1%, yes, you know whom I am talking about, Donald Sterling had his dirty laundry aired and it did not go over well. Players took to Tweeter, along with many others who had something to say about his low and ugly comments regarding his ‘ownership’ of those he contracted to play ball for him. Of course, some came to his defense with cries of, ‘he was set up!’ and, ‘he shouldn’t be penalized for what was a private conversation!’ Power is a funny thing though; ultimately, money talks and he didn’t have enough to override the entire NBA and public opinion.

So back to my comparison, these two loud and proud members of the old school and what they pronounced,  what so many think but don’t say aloud where others can hear. What was it these two wonders had in common?

  • Wealth (Somewhat to Obscene)
  • Race (Caucasian)
  • Age (Old)
  • Ignorance (Absolute)

What did I just say there?

They were both Rich, Old, Ignorant, White Men.

Simple as that. It is my personal opinion if we are ever going to achieve that ‘Post Racial’ society it is up to those of us who enjoy the privilege of walking down streets, through stores and through life without worry for our lives or our freedom to undo Racism. The simple truth is only White people can teach the next generation about racism, bigotry and prejudice; thus only White people can undo the harm it does both socially and institutionally.

Those who are victims of social and institutional Racism can teach us the harm it does; they cannot undo the harm, as they are not in our homes teaching our children from an early age. Legislative remedies go only so far in correcting institutional harm, what we see across our nation is proof of this truth, Cliven and Donald are two examples and the outcomes of their bad behavior are two examples as well. Another example is the reaction 800px-Barack_Obama_family_portrait_2011to having the first Black President in the White House.

Asses have been up on shoulders since the day this President won the election. As much as there are those who say it is not about the half of Barack Obama that is Black, the simple truth is what other reason could it
possibly be? This nation sees this man as a Black man, with a Black wife and Black children move into the House that slaves built and frankly lost its collective mind. Never, not in all the history of this nation as any President battled Congress for even a step toward compromise. Never, not in all the history of this nation has any President faced a Congress that would rather see the nation fail than a President succeeds in even a single agenda item. Not Race? Please give us credit for having some sense.

Back to old Cliven and Donald now, what has happened to them?

Donald got some comeuppance, his money wasn’t enough in the face of what would be lost by the league if players wouldn’t play and sponsors wouldn’t pay. Banned for life from games and a paltry (in the face of his bank) fine. Now the other owners are looking to force him to sell his team, will they succeed? Who knows, the man is eighty years old and likes to fight court battles, of course with confirmation he is battling prostate cancer perhaps he will let this one go.

LAcLIPPERS

As to good ole’ boy Cliven, well all his friends at Fox and in Congress, they deserted him like rats from a sinking ship, quick to let all and sundry know they disagreed with his ‘Negro’ comments. Who didn’t disagree? Yeah, those great patriots with their guns, you know the ones the ‘Militia’, the ones who drew down on government officials trying to do their jobs, who put women out in front as targets; yeah those. Now they are camping out on the side of the roads, fighting each other and terrorizing the locals with their roadblocks. Good old Cliven, he still owes the Government $1M plus still stands in front of the American Flag (of the government he doesn’t believe in) and fails miserably to understand what he did was so wrong.

Nevada Militia

Cliven lost his sponsors, Fox News. Donald his sponsors, commercial. Cliven should go to jail, along with his little buddies the militia. Donald didn’t do anything (this time) illegal, simply immoral and unethical. They are the same yet not.

An interesting read I have borrowed from Frank of A Frank Angle fame, one that shows perhaps why some are so terribly fearful of their place in this ever changing world, http://www.pewresearch.org/next-america/#The-New-Us

Moral? Yes, there is a moral. We do not live in a post racial society, not by a very long shot. We are getting there though, slowly the next generation coming up is beginning to say, “no more”. Society is changing, our outlooks and views are changing. The younger generations are beginning to question the ignorance and intolerance of those who came before them. Is it fast enough to undo the harm that is being done today?

No, not in my opinion and according to current projections we still have a few years to go before there will be enough of us who feel the way I do to make a real difference. What can you do? Start teaching your children what is right, stop ignorance now.

Filed Under: Op Ed Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Open

May 1, 2014 by

Warning – Adult Over 18

 

images

Whispers across my soul, you said you wanted to see me naked

                You asked me, how it feels to be this open

I couldn’t answer, my voice caught by breathlessness

                My lips swollen, bee stung and bitten

Silk rubs against my eyes, my wrists; naked I am exposed to you

                I feel the warmth of your gaze as it travels the length of me

Naked, you wanted me exposed; open to each intimate touch

                Unable to shrink away you hold me still, tracing my ribs

                                Up my thigh across my hip, flattening your palm against my stomach

Be still; stop moving you tell me as instinctively I try to twist away

                You ask again, how it feels to be this open

I have no answer but the soft moan that escapes as you touch the most sensitive parts of me

Your breath heats my skin as your hand smooth’s up my inner thigh

                I fall apart naked from the inside out, exposed to you

Without secrets, one final touch I shatter into thousands of pieces spinning wildly

Be still you say as your fingers spread across my most secret spaces

Silken cords loosen, my hands fall free and I reach for you first

          Be still you say, don’t you want to see as you remove the silk from my eyes

                                You ask again, how it feels to be this open

                I can only reach for you, to show you what you have shown me

Valentine, 29-March-2014

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: ,

Awakened

April 27, 2014 by

Adult Warning – Over 18

 

images

Awakened, muscles tight and skin glistening from a dream

Your face eludes me

The lingering touch of your fingers though is not unfamiliar,

My skin remembers the touch of you

I feel the tips of your fingers tracing the underside of my breast,

 Your thumb across the tip of my nipple just the way I like it, how do you know

Your lips, soft on the spot where my shoulder and neck meet,

Your teeth bite just hard enough, drawing out first a sigh then a soft moan

I still feel you settling over me, while your hand traces the line of my waist,

With your other hand, you hold my hands above my head keeping me still

Finally, you kiss me forever you kiss me and the world spins away,

My hips unhinge and rise to meet you with that forever kiss and I am undone

Awakened, your face eludes me

Your touch though, when finally we meet I will remember

Valentine 24-April-2014

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: ,

Stand Down

April 26, 2014 by

soapboxpileIt is the small and what some might think are inconsequential things we stumble across that goes to prove just how truly terrible it still is out here. It is easy to ignore the stories, easy to shake our heads at those inconsequential stories we see, thinking they are blips on the radar. The problem with this reaction is it allows them to grow, to sink their hooks in and become part of who and what we are. We have become all too willing to turn away from the ugly and mean, all too willing to think it is someone else’s problem, not ours.

I am telling you, it is ours every one of us. It is not enough to individualize it by saying, ‘I am not prejudice’, or, ‘I am not a racist’, or ‘I am not sexist’. Perhaps that is true, or is it?

It is not enough if the truth is you turn away from the horror that is the time machine of institutionalized racism and sexism our nation, state by state is legislating back into existence. It is not enough if you are turning away from those inconsequential stories as if they don’t matter, as if they aren’t a sign of something bigger.

I have said it before; it starts with each of us. The problem starts with each of us; the solution starts with each of us as well. Each time someone says, ‘we don’t have a race problem’, we need to be ready with examples. The truth is, we do have a Race problem and it looms large over the entire nation, it colors our entire conversation, with denial. We also have a Gender problem, a LGBT problem and an Ageism problem. What we really have, when you break it down to the core is this:

A not like us problem.

Who is us, it is good you asked. It is easy to mistake the us sometimes. We are the us, all of us and any of us who turn away, who fail to speak out, who believe it is happening somewhere else or to someone else. We are the us. It is every single one of us who fail to remember the privilege that accrues to us simply because we were born with white skin or can reasonably pass through stores, police stops and neighborhood watches without fear; we are in fact the problem.

We wring our hands and stand in unity when the assclown heroes of the Right do their terrible acts or say their terrible words, when they suggest slavery might have been kinder than freedom, or young men die in hoodies or for loud music. Still, we don’t shout loud enough, demand strongly enough an end to what is truly killing the American Dream of Freedom, Equality and Opportunity for all members of our society.

What has set me off?

Well first there was this:

Notes left in Easter Eggs

Notes left in Easter Eggs

Then came this:

Fairview Township, PA Local KKK, Neighborhood Watch

Fairview Township, PA
Local KKK, Neighborhood Watch

Then there was this:

Phillipe Holland, killed by undercover cops. Read the story.

Phillipe Holland, killed by undercover cops. Read the story.

And this:

No bathrooms or breaks in Miami-Dade Co. in the coming election.

No bathrooms or breaks in Miami-Dade Co. in the coming election.

Finally, this jackass said this:

“I want to tell you one more thing I know about the Negro,” he said. Mr. Bundy recalled driving past a public-housing project in North Las Vegas, “and in front of that government house the door was usually open and the older people and the kids — and there is always at least a half a dozen people sitting on the porch — they didn’t have nothing to do. They didn’t have nothing for their kids to do. They didn’t have nothing for their young girls to do.

“And because they were basically on government subsidy, so now what do they do?” he asked. “They abort their young children, they put their young men in jail, because they never learned how to pick cotton. And I’ve often wondered, are they better off as slaves, picking cotton and having a family life and doing things, or are they better off under government subsidy? They didn’t get no more freedom. They got less freedom.”

I had enough. When does the rest of the nation have enough? How much is too much? SCOTUS has given the states permission to disenfranchise entire voting blocks and has in essence silenced all but 5% of the populace by placing a great dollar sign in front of speech. The highest court in the land put up a ‘For Sale’ sign and sold out in short and gleeful order.

Our Congress has no shame, none, nada, zero, zilch. They hightail it to every show in town, ready and willing to kowtow to those who will bid high dollars for their services. Whether those bidders are corporations, special interest groups or simply those with personal agendas and piles of money.  All we do is sit back and bitch, whine and complain at our loss of freedom and choice in the direction our nation has gone, the downward slide of our national personality and pride. Just look at the line up for the NRA convention.

nra speakers

This is on us, every last one of us. Taken individually, perhaps these things are not significant though each of them offend the hell out of me. Taken all together these are foreshadowing of the direction of our nation, it isn’t a good direction, in fact it is backwards to a time we fought hard to move away from. Is this truly what we want, truly where we want to go?

This isn’t the nation I want. It is time to stand up, it is time to do more than shake our heads and wring our hands. It is time to say no more. It is time to demand these troglodytes stand down and right thinking people take back the power we own.

Filed Under: Politics Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Future Performance Anxiety

April 23, 2014 by

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThere are days we can be overtaken, we feel paralyzed by a single emotion and can’t move. Usually when this happens the emotion simply rolls over us, doesn’t really matter whether we are prepared, it comes in and takes over, intelligence is locked up, pragmatism sent to sit in a corner with dunce cap on; we are reduced by our feelings to a primal state.

Do you know what I am talking about, those feelings we get every now and then in our lives? They don’t have to be the terrible ones; just the ones that make us stop everything. As a woman, I suspect I give in to these moments of madness more easily or maybe, it is I admit to them more openly. I am not ashamed I have an emotional life; my heart still beats and still bleeds. It is my hope because I can still be hurt I am also able to feel great joy and someday perhaps great love as well. I am grateful (I think) I live alone right now; this way when I am paralyzed no one is here to witness; that is unless I tell them. Usually I tell, admitting to weakness because I need a good, swift kick in my hindquarters.

Even when everything feels done, it isn’t quite over. Does that make sense? It is the absolute truth. On 13 December last year, my husband walked out of our marriage for the second time. Without a note, a backward glance or a goodbye, he had his reasons and whether they were good, bad or true they were his. At that time, on that day I was paralyzed by grief.

For weeks, I was paralyzed by grief. I mourned the loss of the future I had planned with him, a future I though we had both planned. The sad reality was of course, we were truly traveling on very different courses.

Then I started to see the truth. The truth of our marriage and that future, my grief changed and with it, my paralysis lifted. I started to breathe again. I won’t say it was immediate, I still had days of sadness, moments when the grief would settle on my shoulders. Those days though, they became fewer and the weight of the grief became less.

I rejected his assessment of blame. I rejected his harsh judgment of me. I rejected his assessment of our marriage; it was a false vision of all three. It was in fact self-serving, selfish and cruel.

I did all of those things through pragmatic reason, setting aside my emotional response to the blame game he played and I all too easily fell into.

Until last night, when I asked him to sign divorce papers, divorce papers that would sever our marriage both legally and financially. Allowing each of us to retain debt and assets that were individually ours, no division of any property. Asking him to do this without a fight so our marriage could finally end, using only one attorney which I would happily pay for.

The blame game started up again. Despite where I thought I was emotionally, it hurt. I don’t know why it hurt, my heart cracked a little again and with it, the grief came roaring to the surface. Perhaps it was the memories of before, of those early days.

Maybe it was the memory of the dreams, or maybe it was simply this wasn’t where I wanted to be and now I have to learn all over again how to live in this world without the safety net marriage creates. I admit, there are things I miss and maybe this is part of my fury, part of what I grieve for.

I miss arms around me in the night, holding me as I fall asleep.

I miss someone to talk to after a hard day, someone who listens to my rages and laughs at me.

I miss going out to dinner and talking.

I miss someone to share coffee with in the morning.

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I miss cooking for someone who appreciates that I have taken the time.

I miss having a travel partner.

I miss someone to dream big with.

I miss laughing over stupid jokes.

I miss someone to share the hard stuff with, whether it is my physical limitations or simple household stuff.

I miss someone who makes sure I don’t fall out of bed during a seizure, worrying about me when I travel alone.

I miss phone calls just because.

I miss someone telling me I am beautiful even when I am at my worst.

I miss being loved, being made love too and knowing it is real and more than just that minute, just a nut.

The funny thing is, I have been missing all of those things for more than two years. I have been missing every single one of those things not just some of them since the day he walked back in the door from the first time he left the marriage, blaming me for every failure.

I am stubborn and hardheaded; I wanted my marriage to be forever. I wanted to fix what was broken. I did not want this ending. Unfortunately, this is the ending I have written because I am stubborn and hardheaded and I deserve joy, I wasn’t joyful, not for the past two years. There have been brief moments, but not moments of paralyzing joy. That is what has been missing, all along that is what has been missing and until now I couldn’t see it.

So, he has agreed to the divorce. We will proceed and it will be an ending. I was paralyzed this morning. I wept. I suspect those won’t be the last tears. Grief is a strange thing isn’t it. I don’t grieve because our marriage was perfect, I grieve because I dreamed and wanted the dream. Now, I think we can both move forward to different lives, different choices.

285This morning though, I was briefly paralyzed and in pain. Now, it has to be about moving forward again and getting to happy.

Filed Under: Series: Dumpster Diving Tagged With: , , , ,

Spring Sprung Famdamily

April 20, 2014 by

Whatever or however you might celebrate today, Happy Day (Easter or otherwise). Me? Oh, I am just going to clean my house, do some laundry and go for a walk eventually, maybe to the lake. Perhaps I will take my camera and see if the recent rains have raised our water up at all. Maybe I will see if our Bluebonnets are out, who knows there might be something worth taking some shots of this time. I know I have some small buds on my Lavender out back and my fruit trees are starting to bloom also, it is a sure sign Spring might finally be here to stay.

Anyone who knows me knows I do not like being cold. Truly, it is simply not my favorite thing, I like heat all and any kind of heat. I want to be warm, always. The strange thing about this entire issue of being warm, I do not like heavy clothes. I want to be warm without layer upon layer of clothing. I suspect this is why I like living where it is hot most of the time and why when I vacation my favorite destinations also tend to be, well shall we say on the warm side. I am simply warm blooded; I even like food on the spicy side of the flavor wheel; if my eyes water and my ears burn a bit I am happy.

So all this being said, Spring it seems has Sprung and I couldn’t be more pleased. Hell I might even pull the shades and do a bit of a happy dance through the house. I will have to pick something to dance too though; I will put my pick at the end of this if you like you can dance along.

Well, all this being said I am really only sharing my joy and happiness at Spring Time possibly being here to share some fun times with you. I know I don’t often do this do I? Yesterday though I spent time with my sons and their families and my wonderful wife-in-law. We took a slow train ride from Grapevine to the Fort Worth Stockyards and then wandered the Stockyards followed by dinner. Not the day I might have planned for myself, but when you have small children, well it actually worked out well, for the most part.

Pictures from the train ride, strangers and famdamily.

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I must admit the stockyards are a people draw, a great place for people watching. What a strange collection. I wonder why it is people immediately feel the need to throw on their cowboy boots, even if they have never worn a pair in their lives before.

Pictures from the Fort Worth Stockyards, street scenes and famdamily.

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Finally, we all piled into our respective cars and made our way to Uncle Julio’s, a fabulous and popular local Tex-Mex restaurant with a great menu and spectacular Margaritas. We were all sufficiently starving by the time we arrived and so enjoyed great meal and those of us old enough, enjoyed a libation. During the day I discovered a new Tequila which I will be adding to my bar (Herradura Anjejo), it is a magnificent sipping Tequila for those of you who have a leaning in that direction.

Pictures from our night of waiting and dinning.

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Last but not least of all, my friend Christ Hanna of Posture Studios, did another spectacular job and I want to share with you some of the pictures he took of the newest addition to my family. I am so pleased with how these turned out, think my new grandson is so angelic (never mind if his parents aren’t getting sleep). I encourage you, if you are in the DFW area or are planning to be, give Christ a call; he is wonderful and continues to be my hero.

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Now to what I will be dancing about the house too, you can use your imagination as to what in and how.

 

Lexicon: Wife-in-Law

She and I were both married to and divorced from the same man. She is the mother of my sons. We share a common bond, we love our sons, want what is best for them. We have been part of each other’s lives for better than thirty years and are friends. There is no term for the relationship we have, this one fits.

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