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Big Dreams Little Tent

March 10, 2013 by

soapboxpileThe indifference of the public is astounding. Don’t get me wrong, most are quick to jump on the bandwagon for their causes, wanton in offering up their opinions, fast to draw down with their observations. In fact, I have 3,400+ Facebook ‘Friends’ many of whom frequently interact with me when I offer the opportunity to discuss current events, especially politics that is unless I ask for their opinion with the following tag line:

 This is a Question not a debate, it is for something I am writing.  Many people most on the Right (Conservative) but some even on the Left (Liberal) have said they want smaller Government. What exactly does that mean? Don’t give long answers please, specifics what would you eliminate and why. If you want to pass this around to others that would be most appreciated. Again, no debate. If you see an answer you disagree with do not challenge it, it is irrelevant all I am looking for is what are people thinking. Your help is most appreciated.

Facebook_March2013

Perhaps I should have promoted this, even paid. Facebook isn’t what it once was, yet usually at least some of my family will jump in to tell me their ideas. I have family who have distinctly different views from my own; they are usually good for at least a response or two. So, besides learning Facebook isn’t what it once was, what did I learn?

  1. People don’t have ideas they can define easily.
  2. People just want to complain.

I don’t think I was necessarily surprised by this, I was however disappointed. Nearly two years ago I wrote on another site an ode to Progressive Political Thinking, or how I would fix what was broken. It isn’t that I believe my views are perfect or can fix everything, I simply think if we sit down together and talk through the issues we face as a nation we can correct our course. I don’t believe the majority of us are that far apart in our thinking, despite the labels we slap on our lapels or the signs we place in our lawns.

What is it most of us really want? I wonder now, how many of us can really say what it is they believe in without the use of “Buzz”. How many of us can answer simple questions?

  1. What does Smaller Government mean?
  2. What does overturning Roe-v-Wade mean?
  3. What does a Secular Government versus a Christian Nation mean?
  4. What does Debt versus Deficit mean and why are either or both bad?
  5. What are Austerity Measures in terms of the economy?
  6. What is the War on Drugs?
  7. What is the War on Women?
  8. What are Entitlements?
  9. What is Supply Side Economics?
  10. What is Demand Side Economics?
  11. What is the Trickle Down Theory of Economics? Has it worked?
  12. What is the environment and how do we influence it?

I wonder how many in this nation truly understand these questions and their own answers to them. I have many other questions, these are good ones though as these get asked and debated frequently in many of the forums I frequent. The interesting thing is, no matter what side of the political spectrum you might be on most of us start at the same place, with the same desires and same wants.

  1. Freedom and independence.
  2. Leave my children (future generations) with a better world.
  3. More money in my pocket.
  4. Greater opportunity.
  5. Safety of person.

I truly believe if normal everyday people sat down at the table, despite our differences we could sort out the issues and find common ground. I don’t believe most of us are that far apart, sure we might have issues we care deeply about on a personal level, things we feel passionate about; but ask yourself, are those things truly what you and I should be willing to bring the nation to its knees over? I wonder, have we allowed ourselves to be distracted by what isn’t of vital importance to the success of a nation. Have we bet the future of our children on the petty snark rather than demanding the big promises we are capable of and once achieved.

How sad.Kickm

Filed Under: Series: The Soapbox Tagged With: , , , , , ,

March of Marriage

February 22, 2013 by

I am feeling a tad on the evil and mean side this morning, thus my ode to all those sweet young things who enter marriage with cads. This is not to say all marriages are doomed to fail or that all men are cads, certainly neither is the case. Nevertheless, many of us have had our share of cads in our lives and heartbreak to go along with those cads. Many of us have suffered through the break-up of marriages or long-term relationships, been left standing in the wreckage of our trust. In my personal opinion the cad of today is gender free, however this is written from a woman’s perspective, thus the cad is a man.

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The Wedding

You are all bright-eyed, white tulle and giggles; your girls surround you and you have dreams, big dreams. Dancing in your head are picket fences, two and half and Volvo’s; your future is bright and shiny, just like those appliances you looked at yesterday. Today though, today you are hoping for the limo to be on time, the driver to know where the church is and your soon to be spouse to not forget his vows.

Did he even remember to write them?

The Marriage

Things are not quite as expected in suburbia; actually, you haven’t quite made it to suburbia, but the trailer park outside of town is nicer than you expected. That Volvo you were dreaming of, yeah it’s a fifteen-year-old Ford Explorer with 150,000 miles on it and the back bumper held on with wire hangers. That two and half, what you really ended up with is three and one in the oven, all under the age of six; at least the oldest is starting school this year. Maybe dreamboat will finally agree to wear a condom after this birth, at least until you can start on the pill again, if only you can afford it. Maybe the doctor will agree to tie your tubes, as a favor; maybe he will take pity on you. If you can stop getting pregnant maybe someone will hire you and you can get off State Aid, dreamboat doesn’t seem to mind but it embarrasses you at the store and the doctors offices.

Remember when you dreamed big and parked by the lake?

The End

You heard on the grapevine by the two-day-old bread dreamboat had sucked another one in and was promising new picket fences, Volvos and life in suburbia to another sweet young thing. You heard he had another shotgun wedding planned, should you warn her ask her to visit your suburban dream and take a ride in your Volvo perhaps.

Or just dance at the wedding to the music of your soul.

Filed Under: Love & Marriage Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Appease or Alone

February 11, 2013 by

Sleeping BeautyWhether negotiating a peace treaty between warring nations or who will do the dishes, each side has in mind a desired outcome. The parties come to the table girded for a war of words, their negotiating tactics firmly in mind. Each party, whether they admit it or not wants the upper hand, wants to win.

Do you find yourself wanting to win? Maybe just who makes the coffee in the morning or whether the coffee cup belongs in the sink or the dishwasher sometimes these simple things grow into what breaks us with resentment. Marriage, partnerships whatever we find ourselves in are not hearts and flowers all the time despite what we would like others to believe; indeed they are often something far more challenging than negotiating a piece of contentious legislation or world peace.

Princess Bride Forever

Princess Bride Forever

With the pronouncement of solemn vows, the agreement to love, honor and cherish something shifts. We think the honeymoon will last forever, it doesn’t; truthfully it cannot life has a habit of moving in with you when you return from paradise. We may believe roles don’t or won’t change, they do and they will.

No matter how clearly we have drawn our lines in the sand, written our boundaries (in our heads), those little words “till death do you part” have a profound effect on both of you. Whether it is social norms, cultural norms, gender norms or a combination of all of these, whatever you thought during courtship will change.

In the politics of relationships our hearts and our futures are on the line, we have often invested years in our marriages / partnerships. It is what you do when negotiating your relationship, your boundaries and your future that makes or breaks you. Not just your relationship but you.

  •   Concede – Accede
  •   Appeasement – Concession
  •   Compromise – Reconciliation

The above are words we might think of, might act out in the rough waters of our marriage or partnerships. Only one pairing has a good outcome, yet all too often, we find ourselves doing something other than what is healthy, what is good for our relationship and ultimately us as individuals.

We make concessions, or concede our positions on some points. Perhaps these are minor, things we can easily give. Concerns that have no real bearing on our long-term happiness or the foundation of our relationship or the agreements we thought we had made. But wait, before we accede do we talk about them, do we discuss why these concessions matter or do we simply give in, setting the pattern for all future interactions within our relationship.

My mom & dad 1951

My mom & dad 1951

With each concession, do we allow our resentment to grow? Do we disappear under the weight of another person and his or her demands for ‘their way’? Do we become a passive member of our relationship simply to appease the other, out of fear of loss, fear of public condemnation or shame, fear of loneliness. What happens to our ego or our boundaries as we appease, as we concede positions?

The boundary we established for ourselves that line in our mind the one that said we would be a full partner has now changed. We have agreed to a different more passive role in our relationship, without realizing or acknowledging the change in our status. Our emotional investment in the relationship is greater than our partners, it is no longer an equal partnership. Truthfully, it is no longer a partnership at all, rather it is a relationship without balance.

Can a new balance be established?

Is it possible for you to reassert yourself, redraw the boundaries and redefine your needs within a relationship where you have practiced appeasement for peace. This is a question I suspect many women in my generation ask

wikipedia.com

Amazon Image

themselves. We teeter between fear of growing old alone and resentment when we have given too much of ourselves away. We are a hybrid of our mothers and Betty Friedan, we burned our bras yet shopped for the perfect wedding dress. We demanded equality in the workplace, yet remain uncertain how to negotiate equivalence in our homes.

We talk a good game, yet we still lose ourselves within our desire to be loved, needed and not alone. Initially we might say, it is small perhaps even it is nothing. The coffee cup in the sink rather than the dishwasher, the bed unmade or love notes unwritten on our heart. It is important though, are we conceding authentic self, our true need for the sake of not being alone? Is not being alone enough?

These are questions I hear from more and more women today, women my age. Women in long-term marriages, both first and second go-arounds, seem to be questioning their relationships and their standing within those relationships. Are we having another awakening?

Filed Under: Love & Marriage Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Cameras in the Locker Room

February 6, 2013 by

redhatI have finally gone back to the gym. Everyone said I was ready and with support and a good trainer to help, I could do this. I agreed and so off I trotted. I like my trainer, she and I have worked together before, she isn’t body perfect and she has had some injuries, she understands.

What does she understand you ask, rightly. She understands if I say I can’t do that I am not being a whiny itchy baby, I am saying my injuries won’t let me do that particular movement. When I say that she modifies the movement and we work through it. That is why I like my trainer. We are working to rebuild me, from the ground up. We are working to rebuild my balance, my strength and my confidence. She isn’t asking me to step on a scale, she isn’t measuring my waist, my ass or my thighs. She gets I feel miserable in the layers of fat I am wearing today and don’t need reminders. She talks to me about food, nutrition and other programs my gym offers and we look for things that might work for me.

I like my trainer. I usually like my gym, but this is a Red Hat, so you know there is something that must have stuck in my craw, something that has me sideways.

I meet my trainer in the morning on the way to work, specifically I work out at 7am. This means I must change at the gym. I must shower and dress at the gym, this already grosses me out. I must use their facilities, their locker room. When you walk into their locker room there is a great big sign, you can’t miss it unless you are blind it:

nocell

Obviously not the actual sign, but a close

facsimileDespite this very obvious sign you cannot miss unless you are blind, women are casually carrying on extended conversations on their smart phones. Listening to music on their smart phones. Playing games or something on their smart phones.

Unless I am mistaken, all of these phones have cameras in them. I am fairly certain, I am not mistaken.

What I am most annoyed with is many of these women have walked directly by the locker room attendant with their phones plugged directly into their ears, nothing was said. Then there are the women who are sitting on the benches casually chatting on their phones, carrying on conversations as the attendant walks through the locker room without saying a word.

What the hell? Which one of them can’t read the sign? The member or the attendant, this is the question I want answered.

Yesterday, my patience finally reached a boiling point. Maybe it is me but the locker room at the gym is not a tearoom or a bar, especially first thing in the morning. I don’t want to navigate around body perfects standing in the middle of the aisles discussing last night with each other or the person on the other end of their smart phones. I don’t want to try to dress while other women are sitting on the benches with their phones to their ears carrying on complete conversations. I certainly do not give to tinkers damn, who they did or in what position they did them.

Can I just say…..You are not that important!!

It is unlikely there is anything going on in your life that is so important it cannot wait for the one hour it takes you to work out. Leave your phone in the car. I do.

If you want to work out to music, buy a $49 IPod. Yes, I am well aware your smart phone does everything today. Tough, it isn’t allowed in the locker room and it makes others very uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable.

In fact, it makes me so uncomfortable I thought about it all day. I stopped at the gym on my way home and talked to the Operations Manager about it, he wasn’t there yesterday morning. I told him about my experience of the morning, including his own staff not doing anything. He is apparently new to this gym.

He promised to talk to the staff.

He suggested I say something to offenders first. I explained, it isn’t my job to enforce gym rules but that I would be happy to do so politely once. The problem with this is I would be doing so to ¾ of the women in the locker room and I really didn’t have time to police the locker room. It was the job of his staff to prevent members from entering with their smart phones.

I suggested his staff do their jobs at the front end, at the door of the locker room instead and that if I had to do it for them it would only be polite once. We talked about the maliciousness of humans, women in particular. I reminded him of the pictures we have all seen on the Internet from time to time, those terrible pictures we all laugh at of Wal-Mart customers, Fat Girls and others. I asked him where he thought they came from, did he really believe people posed for them.

My next work out is Thursday morning. I will give him an opportunity. If things aren’t better, I will politely say to other members their phones aren’t allowed in the locker room, point them to the sign at the entrance and ask the attendant to deal with it if necessary.likemycamera

If things aren’t better, next Tuesday I will pack my 35mm film camera (without film) into my gym bag and when I am dressing, I will put that empty camera on the bench next to me. What do you think, might the important ladies of smart phones cadre be a tad discomforted by my camera?

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

Red Hat: Doctors Pride

December 30, 2012 by

redhatTwenty years ago, someone hurt me, we have been all through this and I am not going to bore you with the details. Twenty years ago, my body suffered a significant amount of damage that has cascaded into more damage over the years. Twenty years ago I had surgery to repair some of the most egregious of that damage and provide me with some relief, my spine from T2 to T5 were fused, we used human material, my choice. At the time, I thought the doctor was a miracle worker and the surgery a true miracle, my pain went from a nine on a scale of 1-10 to an average of three immediately, I was in heaven on earth.

That was twenty years ago, this is today.

I have been pondering my reaction to recent events with my doctor and his referral to ‘the best neurosurgeon’ in Dallas. Really, this clinic and this surgeon treats members of the Cowboys!

Let me tell you why this is my Red Hat of the year, my friends.

This has been a hard year for me pain wise. Last year it started to escalate. I know what is wrong; my regular doctors know what is wrong too. We have all been down this road for a very long time now. This time though everyone said, ‘no more injections it is too much and too far-gone, time for something else, time for an expert to take a look at the damage and determine next steps.’

Not really what I wanted to hear, but I didn’t disagree. My last MRI’s were 14 months ago, so when the new clinic called to make the appointment they said, ‘no the DOCTOR will want new film, don’t bother to bring what you have.’ I thought this was odd, but I did what they said and I didn’t throw all of my Cervical and Lumbar MRI film into my purse. On the phone, I asked did my doctor explain the referral was for both my Cervical and Lumbar; the nice young lady happily responded in the affirmative and explained I should set aside enough time for x-rays, MRI and a consultation.

I did just that, I took the entire day off to make certain I had the time blocked. Well that isn’t quite what happened, indeed that is nowhere near what happened.……..

There are eighteen doctors at The Clinic. They are apparently very proud of themselves, very proud of the fact they treat professional athletes and others of wealth and influence. Their clinic is a model of efficiency when it comes to your sign-in, making certain they have all your financial information that is.

This was not my Doctor, dammit

This was not my Doctor, dammit

Perhaps those with a great deal of money, or those who wear professional football jerseys don’t care how they are treated by their medical providers. Perhaps, they accept a lack of courtesy as part of the game.

On the other hand, I have a standard, even for professionals considered to be at the top of their field. Part of this standard is do not under any circumstance treat me as if I am stupid, unaware, beneath your contempt or not worthy of your time. Despite your years of education, the accolades of your peers and the worship of those professional athletes you have treated I am still paying you! Between me and my insurance cold hard cash is leaving our pockets and entering yours.

I am not a charity case; you aren’t climbing down off your effing ego mountain, wading through the muck to treat me. Indeed not, I drove to your clinic after spending the better part of an hour filling out reams of paperwork, providing you not only with my insurance information but also with my personal financial information and then waiting for you for 45 minutes after my appointment time because your time is clearly more valuable than mine is. After all that, you Herr Doktor had the unmitigated gall to act as if I wasn’t well enough informed, smart enough or perhaps interesting enough to be sitting in your treatment room.

First, you had not bothered to read the Referral sent over by the doctor who has been treating me for eight years.

Then you callously observed my throat and arms had been sliced open and demand an explanation. Frankly, Doctor, none of your business but since you must know my ex-husband tied me to a bed and took a straight razor to me.

When you finally got around to looking at the x-ray you couldn’t figure out what those strange ‘pathways’ in my neck and into my spine were. Had you read the referral you would have known they were bullet entrance and exit wounds, but you couldn’t be bothered so I had to explain it. Your comment to this, oh yeah; “I healed up nicely.”

pain

This was the first ten minutes; we spent another five exercising my right arm, which is periodically numb, periodically paralyzed, and periodically so painful I wish I could cut it off. You my good doctor, your diagnosis? I have arthritis in my shoulder and need a better painkiller and some physical therapy. When I explained I try to avoid painkillers so I can live a full life, you suggested I simply take more Motrin and handed me a ‘prescription’ for physical therapy, told me to go wherever I wanted and come back to see you in March. Are you even aware the damage 2400 milligrams of Motrin will do taken daily?

Mind you, I have never had arthritis. There is not a damned thing wrong with my shoulder and never has been, movement hurts because my cervical spine hurts and I have nerve damage you numbnut. Did I fail to mention, he didn’t have time in the first consult to deal with both the Cervical and the Lumbar, I would have needed to make two appointments for that. He didn’t order MRI’s. What he did say to me as he left the room…..

“You win for the best story of 2012.”Kickm

Well, Dr. Andrew Dossett of The Carrell Clinic wins for the worst bedside manner, least compassionate, worst listener and most egotistic medical provider it has been my experience to run into in many years.

Was this a bit incoherent? My apologies. I am between terribly peeved and in pain, have been for weeks now. I am also between a rock and a hard spot, so is my regular doctor, we will work it out but in the meantime I am stuck with how do I get through the day.

I don’t often call out names in my Red Hats, but in this case well I just thought it was worthy. How does a Doctor, a person who takes an oath to ‘do no harm’ act in such a callous and uncaring manner. Wasn’t I in a big enough puddle on the floor? Did I not show enough abject misery?

Sorry Doctor, it isn’t my way to weep and gnash my teeth. But it should be your way to show compassion and treat the patient in front of you not your effing assumptions.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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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

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

Red: A Match

October 22, 2012 by

My heart sister Red at M3 read me this poem today. I considered my feelings, my thoughts and my reactions and then asked if she would let me publish as part of my on-going discussions of politics, both big and small. What she says in A Match is haunting and unsparing.

I hope you will consider her words carefully, I have.

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A Match

If all the world were on the head of a match,

How long before we struck it?
Abrasive to the surface inhabitants
And daily committing rape,
We are busy justifying our actions
And homed in on our profit.



We rip holes in the sky and bore out the ground
With time-stricken vanity,
A blatant disregard of future costs and
Heartlessness to our victims.
Blame falls to schedules filled with self-importance
And lacking identity.



Loud and proud we shout, “I am!” until one points
To the wake of destruction.
We fly around the world in search of “I am”
And find our inner child,
Whose whims and wants are fulfilled with adult funds,
But no adult compunction.



The sand the ostrich seeks to bury its head
Is now shards of broken glass.
The cleansing waters stand stagnant and smell foul,
Thick with noxious pollutants.
The world sits on the head of a striking match.
Ignition will be a gas.



211020120042

Filed Under: Guest Posts Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

On My Knees

October 13, 2012 by

I haven’t forgiven this doesn’t mean I want them dead it just means I don’t forgive their violence. It also means I think sometimes, those days when crawling out of bed are so hard, I want them to hurt like I hurt. Some days, those days when I think I will breakdown and call the doctor begging for something stronger than Ibuprofen 800 for pain management I think Damn them to hell forever, I don’t want to live my life this way and my fury rises up and I weep. I cannot help the way I feel I am not a saint, my halo has not been granted.

For about eight years, I have been an activist in the criminal justice system. I speak in a program called Victim Impact inside of the Prison system of Texas. I speak to offenders in Federal, State and Juvenile lock-up and to the Parole groups ordered into the program. I do not speak out of hate or revenge; I don’t speak to hammer a captive audience with anger. I speak because I hope each time to touch one heart; just one would be enough for me. One heart that will leave the room with a different perspective on the relationship between themselves and their acts, their victims that includes their own families, their children and of course, the person they directly harmed.

I have spent eight years telling my story. There are some days when I walk into the rooms and look out at the faces I am decimated by their youth. I ask how many have children, they all raise their hands and I consider the lives of my three offenders, just children themselves twenty years ago at the time our lives intersected, each with at least one parent behind bars at the time they kidnapped and shot me three times. Their histories are the genesis of my activism, the framework of my thinking about how we each create the ever-expanding ripples through our judgment, acts, remorse and yes-even forgiveness.

Over the years, I have evolved, I thought. I believe each of us has the ability to reform our life, that with few exceptions each of us has the capacity to change our lives. If I didn’t believe this, I could not walk through the gates of prisons, stand before violent offenders, and say I believe they have the capability to make positive change. If I didn’t believe compassion and empathy existed, even in the most hardened of humans, I could not stand before them and say to them…

“You have the ability to change the life of your children. You have the ability to change your own life by tapping into your empathy.”

Now I have to ask myself is all I do and all I say simply a panacea for my ego or perhaps simply a pragmatic intellectual exercise that I haven’t truly absorbed into my heart and spirit. Perhaps, it is something else altogether. Perhaps what I say only applies to everyone else, offenders and victims together but not to me and not to my offenders. I have run into a brick wall, the wall of my intellect fighting my heart. My heart is winning today. My heart won last Wednesday and has won every day since Wednesday since I opened the letter from the Texas State Board of Pardons and Paroles.

“This is to inform you Your Offender has been granted Parole”

Charge: 2 Counts Attempted Capital Murder w/Deadly

Sentence: 35 years, 20 years

Sentence Date: April 13, 1993

Release Date: March 9, 2027

Parole Granted: October 4, 2012

When I opened that letter I was sitting at my desk, on the phone with my heart sister Red I think I went silent, the tears started, my heart stopped. I am not a Saint. I am barely human. My heart sister didn’t know, I slipped from my chair to my knees and had I not been on the phone with her my primal scream would have shook the walls. Instead all I could do is ask her to stop, stop talking please give me a minute, please let me read to her what I had just silently read to myself. The tears continued as I sobbed, I had already memorized the words though I didn’t have to read them. My life, dammit My Life.

My letters to the Parole Board obviously did not matter. My discussion with the head of the Parole board at Powledge Unit, none of that mattered. Clearly, I could have simply ignored all of that and the outcome would have been the same. My life, all the days I can’t move without wanting to fall to the floor that is worth twenty years. There is something far worse though, something that is causing me to want to crawl into my closet and stay there, re-examine myself closely.

I am not a saint, not that I have ever proposed I was. But I thought I was better than this. Better than demanding my pound of flesh. Better than demanding revenge. I did not realize I had not reconciled my pragmatic intellectual self, the part that believes remorse, rehabilitation and re-entry is not only possible but the hoped for outcome. I did not know this about myself, did not understand I had not brought my heart and mind together that I meant it, but not about MY OFFENDERS. I did not know this would cause me such fury.

I didn’t know I lacked compassion I think this devastates me more than I can even begin to measure.

I didn’t know I was false a sham. This also devastates me.

Filed Under: Series: Crime and Punishment Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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