Kitty Boy

Making a decision on someone else's behalf is one of the most difficult things I have encountered in my short 31 years.  The process is gut-wrenching, stressful, and down-right depressing to say the least.

Over the course of the last year and a half, my kitty, Dylan, has been sick. No one knows what is wrong with him, but, of course, everyone speculates and imagines they have the answer.  He has been to 3 different vets and each one walks away clueless and Dylan walks away worse for wear.

A year and a half of having unwilling bulemia.  He eats... he throws up.  He drinks... he throws up. All the while I am sure his heart is weakened, his esophagus has to be tore up, his teeth are probably ruined permanently, he has 60% hair loss, he is down 9 lbs (yes, he was 20 lbs; He is a massive cat), and he has random open sores from licking himself almost compulsively.

All of those reasons make me say: Put him down.
Life is not meant to be lived while having to suffer constantly.

And pets don't tell us when they hurt.
He can't say "Mommy, all I want to do is eat like a normal boy." or "I just want to stop having to hurt every day."

At first I was distraught having to go through endless rolls of paper towel and cleaning up piles of bile and hair.  Now it is second nature.  He gives the meow and I am there in a flash.  Thankfully I have almost all hard floors in my house and he manages to puke in pretty convenient places.  But still my heart is heavy for my kitty boy who has been my little buddy from the first day.

His appointment to be put down was for this past Saturday.  He has had an amazing week, too. One puke on Wednesday and nothing since. Almost as if he knew it was the end of his life was coming this weekend. Saturday came and went. I cancelled his appointment because a large part of me couldn't put down my little kitty boy who was snuggled up on my lap for the better part of 3 hours the night before when I couldn't sleep over the thought of ending his short life. When I called the shelter, the little old lady who answered wept with me as I told her I didn't know what to do.  I told her I didn't know how to make the decision for him and that I didn't know if it was even the right decision at the end of the day.  Especially when he was having a great week. A week of normalcy.

Dylan (left) and Lucy - Nov 2013

Maybe selfishly I just need more time to come to terms with ending the life of my little friend.  My companion. My buddy.  The guy who when I got him had no whiskers because he burned them all off on a candle.  The guy who would sit on my lap no matter where I was (yes, even tried to on the toilet). The kitty boy who has been a part of my family longer than any actual human guy ever has and maybe ever will.

I know, at the end of the day, that Dylan's life will be cut short and that I will have to make the long drive to the shelter to put him down, but I am not ready right now.  So many things happen in life and they always seem to happen at the same time - and I am not ready to lose him yet.  And as tears now well up in my eyes I will go snuggle up with him on the couch now, because I can.
Because he is still here... for now.

Eleven Years Ago Today...

Eleven years ago today, I lay in a hospital bed dying.

Eleven years ago today, my body decided to begin the process of shutting down.  With a high fever of 104, I was delirious and on the verge of slipping into a coma with blood pressure around 140/104.  It was the longest day of my entire life.

Eleven years ago today, I was admitted into the hospital with every hope of a routine delivery of my baby. My blood pressure had been high for a month prior, but it was closely monitored. Being induced was nothing out of the ordinary and nothing every other Obstetrician hasn't done before.  It was all new to me though. 24 hours after trying my best to deliver drug-free, came the breaking of my water.  This not only distressed my unborn daughter, but sent my body into unparalleled pain.

Eleven years ago today, I got through 29 hours of labor and my body decided it was time to push.  I was not dilated. It is physically impossible to birth a baby if your cervix is not dilated, but I had absolutely no choice in the matter; When it's time to push, it's time to push. Fail. On an epic scale. No matter how hard I tried, nothing was happening. No matter what the doctors attempted, my body was resisting. My body began to fail and my baby was dying. One of the last things I heard was "We are going to lose them both!" before slipping into delirium.

Eleven years ago today, I was prepped for an emergency cesarean section. Which is actually incredibly common nowadays... even then.  C-Sections were on the incline averaging at 70% or so I heard. They strapped down my arms and legs, because, well, that's just what they do.  After attempting to numb me from the waist down, the anesthesiologist asked "Can you feel this?" "Yes" I replied.  "Hmm... you shouldn't be able to feel anything." And the surgery commenced.  From behind my little sheet, I could feel my abdomen being sliced open with a scalpel. I screamed in absolute terror and was drugged into oblivion while my mother yelled for them to give me more drugs.

Eleven years ago today, my baby was born and I didn't get to meet her.  I was in a drug-induced high and from what I can vividly remember I told my mother "I am in outer space."  Apparently I had enough drugs. I have also learned later that redheads need 1/3 more drugs than any other hair color in order for said drugs to work effectively. If only...

Eleven years ago today, my daughter was rushed to the NICU, because she could not breathe on her own. When the doctor broke my water, she drank it, causing severe distress on her lungs. My beautiful baby girl sat alone in an incubator hood for the first 24 hours of her life - without her mother.  I was a hallway away coming out of my euphoria and not even knowing I had just had a child.

Me & my bird.

Eleven years ago today, my life was changed forever.  I learned patience, and kindness, and how to love someone else in a way only a mother would understand.

Today my little baby is a beautiful, hilarious, snarky 11-year old. She is sassy in all the right places. She has a sense of humor that makes me double-over more often than not. She is like walking out of a smokey bar and gulping down heaps of fresh air. She is the rays of sunshine on an overcast day.  She is my better half and one of the sweetest souls I have ever known.  Shes awkward, and quirky, and her long legs trip her off more often than not. She is my soul mate in this life. The reason I was put here.

Happy Birthday to the best person I have ever known. I love you bird. <3

One Way or Another

As I pulled into the Pet Supplies Plus parking lot this afternoon, I noticed a row of cages on the sidewalk and a plethora of people everywhere. I decided maybe this was not the day for me to get cat litter. Maybe I should just leave now while my mascara isn't running down my cheeks and my nose isn't stuffy and red.... nope. I parked.  And as I walked to the building I started breathing heavily knowing it was not going be easy for me to be here.

Each cage was filled with a dog or a puppy and each of those said dogs wanted nothing but my touch.  My eyes immediately welled with tears.  One puppy licked incessantly through the cage as if to tell me "It okay lady. Don't cry."  I did anyway.  I wept like a baby for these poor animals that don't have homes.  I wept for their lives in cages while their irresponsible owners proceeded with their flippant lives.  And it happens every day, and not just with dogs which is where my heartache comes in.  I could cry for a thousand hours at how bad I feel for these children, puppies, kitties, and nameless millions of other animals that people carelessly turn their shoulder to.

Or even the people that have to have a "purebred."  My mutt is cooler than your purebred could ever be. How could you even stand to spend $1000 on a dog when there are 50 of them locked up at the local kennel who need you and your love?  I can't even think about the children in orphanages otherwise you may as well put a bullet in my head.  But as an owner of rescued pets, I cannot even begin to understand some people's thought processes.  How an animal from the mall would even make sense when the Humane Society is destroying animals left and right because they don't even have the room for them.  But oooh, I need a teacup this or a miniature that.  Personally, the cat in the cage at the shelter that has one eye or 11 toes on one foot, is the cat I want most of all.

Finding your animal a new home is one thing, but getting rid of them because your priorities have changed is another - and it is thoroughly unsettling.  I have a cat who needs a new home and I can't find her one.  Have I dropped her off on the Humane Societies doorstep? No, I will wait until she finds the perfect home.  She needs it badly, but I'd rather she stayed here than in a 2x2 cage with little to no love every day - or better yet, euthanized.

Then there are hundreds of thousands of animals born each year that don't have homes and don't have any love.  They starve to death, they are beaten, they are left alone - when they require nearly nothing but love and love alone. The poor little dears. And today I got to look some of those unloved babies in the face and all I could think was how I wanted to put out a worldwide threat:
Fix your animals or allow me to have you fixed for your ignorance.

Bird

This new life I am living is incredible.

The relationship that has been built between my daughter and myself is one I could never have dreamed possible.

I used to work every day, or night, or afternoon. I used to work on birthdays, and holidays, and weekends. The last 11 years have been such a struggle working hours that are an absolute nightmare. Today, we laugh constantly, we get into spats, we sing lyrics to songs we don't even know, we never say goodbye without a kiss, and we always say I love you. She is the night to my day and the breath in my lungs.  My world turns for her and her alone.

Tomorrow my baby is off to Middle School and a whole new life is waiting for us.  A life of bullies, cliques of catty bitches, puberty, obsessions with boys, dirty jokes, teasing to no avail. A life I could have sworn I just left behind.  I am scared for her because I remember how hard junior high was.  I remember how relentless the bullies were and I remember how there were nights I cried myself to sleep. My little girl is a peach.  She is soft and sweet and bruises easily, but deep down she has that toughened core. A wall, per say. These next seven years are going to bring us a plethora of emotions and a roller coaster of memories; I need to hold on as tight as I possibly can. 

Bird & Me

My sweet little ten year old.... well for 15 more days anyway.  Eleven years is sneaking up on us and my heart is weighing heavy at the thought of how grown up she has become.  5'2", long and lean.  My little bird who used to snuggle in the crook of my arm is now just a memory; She is now just a gangly tween who rolls her eyes and gets offended all too easily.  My little bird.  I miss her already. :(

I can hear her voice coming down the hall just now,

"Momma, come watch a show before bed."

She will still want me to tuck her in, rub her back for a few minutes, and kiss her goodnight.

She still needs me - for now.

If only she understood how much I need her.  

Trouble With the Curve

Life is so funny the way it constantly throws you a curve ball or two when you least expect it.  The part that is most important is watching the first pitch go by and learning what it looks like before you attempt to swing at it.

My life has given me many different pitches: sliders, knuckle balls, breaking balls, heaters.  And while I haven't mastered hitting each pitch I know that I learn a little more every time I see one go by.  This euphemism has nothing to do with baseball really.  Nothing to do with stepping up to a plate and actually seeing pitches wiz by my head, but learning from life's experiences no matter how big or how small.

I've been through a lot in this life.  More than some would say is necessary for anyone to have to go through.  And with these experiences I have built a wall around my heart that is constructed so well not very many people can get over, around, through... nadda. I share these experiences with a lucky few in hopes that maybe I can turn someone's life around even in a minuscule way.  I didn't chose the things that happened to me, but maybe the universe knew I was strong enough to handle the bad and strong enough to move forward with a smile on my face.  Even if that smile is sometimes as fake as can be.

Over the course of the last 15 years, I have been through some things I maybe shouldn't have made it out of. Experiences that have left me shattered, broken, and even a little worse for wear.  I've faltered - hell, I am human!  But the lessons of life have deemed themselves to be invaluable.  I know that with each passing breath I am better for having been hurt. And I can raise a daughter who is just as headstrong and capable of tackling this life that is never easy.  She has already been through some things she shouldn't have had to, but life has a pitiful way of doling out crap.... and only the strong shall survive.

I've been told a thousand times and in a thousand ways "You are so strong."  A lot of times it is just a front.  A lot of times it has nothing to do with strength and everything to do with balance. I can take a punch, my eyes will fill with tears, but I am going to dust myself off and figure out the lesson in the madness.  I am not as strong as everyone says - it's not about being strong.  Its about being smart and having a never-ending desire to keep learning as much as possible.

This last ten months has been one hell of a curve ball.  So many different things have happened and there were times where I should have broken in half, but I am here. I am standing on my two feet, strong as ever - smart as ever - and ready to swing at whatever pitch comes my way... so bring it on universe. I am ready for you.

Light Years Away

October will mark the anniversary of my aloneness.  My solitariness. My individuality.  Six years of rebuilding and reinforcing my walls.

Usually this is a complete non-issue for me. Usually I can find inner-peace with having no partner to come along on this journey with me.  Everyone always has a partner.  And even if they don't for a minute, they can't stand the fact of being alone so they attach to anything -nay, anyone- and find safety and comfort in them. This isn't to say I am not okay with being alone, I am just really aware of it right now.

I have no idea how to not be alone. I know fairy tales aren't real and I know that there isn't someone who is going to make the world stop spinning when I see them; Things like that are nonsensical.  What I don't know is if something is truly broken inside me.  Will I ever find that love everyone is always searching for or has? Or is my ability to filter out my partners is just more advanced than everyone's? 

In these past six single years the main type of guy I meet is obsessed with relationships or a complete pushover. They have never been single, they are more or less the woman in the relationship, and they want never-ending affection.  For me, I have been single a long time and think it is healthy to stand on your own, I want to be the woman in the relationship, and I don't care for boatloads of affection.  Can I compromise?  Meh. If I don't want to answer your text for 4 hours, I shouldn't feel obligated to. 

My biggest attribute is my pushing people away. And its not even in relationships most of the time. I will push you if you are my friend too.  I have to. It is a defense mechanism constructed after thirty years of psychological abuse.  The thing I don't understand is why no one can take the push.  They always just let me push them away and no one ever stays.  No one ever survives the push and for me that means they are not good enough.

The last guy I had an encounter with had 4 relationships in the last year all of which he lived with the woman.  Except for in my case because I am not stupid enough for that.  I called him out on it too. 

All you want is a relationship. Someone you can cling to, move in with, and make it seem like it is okay that you are a relationship whore.  You have never been single in the entire time I have known you. You have no idea what it is like to stand on your own two feet. 

I had even told a friend (if we would have lasted) I would have made him wait til the end of the year to have the title as boyfriend. Just so he could try being alone out for size.  

Somehow I am the bad guy because I don't "care" enough.  I don't care enough for a very specific reason.  A month after we had called it quits he was living with a new chick and now she is his everything.  Sigh. I can't handle that shit. At all.

This case is not unique.  Most people I know are serial daters. I get it. I am not sure people are meant to roam this earth alone, however, I think it is okay to do so - and maybe even necessary for a little while.

I think it is time for a reevaluation... or perhaps a change. A big one.

Gypsy Soul

Last night after playing a double header (and winning both games) a few of my teammates and I went out for a drink.  As soon as we were all sitting down, every single person was staring at their phone.  I get it, I normally am as well, but I never go out.  I don't go to bars, I don't go to parties, I stay inside my little shell and venture outside of it once every five months. I commented about it saying "Look at all of you Facebooking.  I'm disconnecting for the night and you should too." I did pick up my phone twice but was never on it for more than a few seconds.  

I see it everywhere.  

Yesterday a guy in my neighborhood was walking his dog and trying to text as his German Shepherd pulled him around like an idiot.  Did he put the phone away? Nope. 

Or talking with a friend who must love the stories you tell so much because they never look away from the screen throughout the whole conversation.

Or that person who leisurely walks through the parking lot not noticing at all that you are trying to drive.

I can remember eating dinner with my daughter once and playing on the computer at the same time.  As I was scrolling through some blogs, it said 

"Put the technology away. Your kid is in front of you and you are in front of a computer. Life is short. Go be with your family. You can't get these times back. Talk to your children!"  

Obviously I am paraphrasing, but I understood so clearly.  I immediately shut my laptop and enjoyed my dinner away from the world wide web.  I felt kinda crappy about it, too. Not shutting the computer but thinking back on how many times that may have happened. I am not always online during dinner, but I am more often than I should be.  And of that, I am ashamed. 

I am also a rusher.  I don't like waiting. I don't like people who are late.  I don't like making last minute plans.

My daughter is a free-spirit. An old soul even. She has been this way since she was one?  Studying the ladybug she would find on her finger or blowing on blades of grass. She notices every crack in the sidewalk, the hawk in the tree, each butterfly, bumblebee, and ladybug. She knows each flowers name and which cloud is the puffiest one in the sky. She loves to be active and in the same breath she can be excruciatingly lazy.  She walks at a turtles pace and she has absolutely no regard for time.  I am constantly saying "Move it!" or "Hurry up." or even "You are so slow!"  I know it drives her crazy whenever I say it, but she also knows her disregard for my schedule drives me crazy as well.  My daughter is busy enjoying the life around her while I am busy trying to get where we need to go whether it to bed or to softball.

My little bird. Empire, MI 

The point is we have all lost focus.  We are stuck in such a "need it now" world that we are losing the ability to even know how to slow down... or the ability to stop and smell the roses.  Can't we walk the dog and leave our cellphone at home?  Can't we walk from the car to the grocery store without taking our iPhones out of our pockets and checking in on FourSquare that we are at Kroger?  Can't we have dinner without scrolling through other people's status updates or watching YouTube videos?   I don't know if we can anymore. We are building this society where being on said technology, all day every day, is normal. And it is not normal.  It is not okay.

We losing some of the greatest gifts we have been given. Eachother.

And I for one am going to hug my kid, tell her I love her and maybe smell some roses with her.



*Note: This was written at 5am when my little dear was fast asleep so bah humbug to you*

Devil On My Shoulder

At the end of our trip we went to eat a little cantina in Gaylord. It was delicious and we were all stuffed to the gills.  Right before we hit the road my mom found an envelope in the bathroom with $800 cash inside.

Seriously? Why can I never find an envelope full of cash?

We informed the restaurant that we found some money and they said to turn it in to them. - We, of course, did not do that. We wouldn't even tell them how much.  My mom left her name and number and that was that.  Only two days went by before she got a call. The woman knew how much and what envelope it was in.  Damn...  I am glad for the lady that it fell into the hands of my honest, church-going mother and not into my evil clutches. Initially all I thought was "Tell no one! Spend it."  but that never would have been what I would have done. I probably would have done the same thing as my mother even if I didn't want to.

She kept saying "There is more good in the world than evil." and honestly I don't believe that. I wish it were true, but people are rotten. Not all people, of course, but I am pretty sure the majority are disgraceful.  Look at how this world is crumbling beneath us.  Riots, bombing, murders, terrorist threats, cheating, should I even go on? Sure, it would be great to think everyone was rooted in goodness, but I am a realist. I know this can't be true.

I'd love for someone to prove me wrong on this.  I would love for someone in my life to prove to me that the good outweighs the bad. I don't watch the media so I am not bias by them, I just don't know if I truly believe people are inherently good.

Love at a Rest Stop?

So an hour into my five hour car ride and I've already had to pop two Xanex.  Driving with my mother and father is one of the hardest tasks known to man.  They bicker every 5 minutes, my dad calls out every river, and road name, as well as every single time he spots a hawk in a tree or flying.  My mom on the other hand is a very nervous person in the car.  "You're too close to the person infront of you." Or "Do you have to go 80?" Or "Can you not drive in the left the whole time?" Its not only nerve wrecking for her but for all other parties.

We stopped at a rest stop to let Bea stretch her legs and drop off some timber. I went inside to wander around the gift shop when a super good looking guy stopped me to make small talk.  He asked where I was heading to and we talked about a YouTube video, we joked back and forth and then he said "Call me when you get to the dunes so I know you made it safe."  with a cute smirk on his face.  Did I get his number? Nope.  Damn moron!  I probably would have sabotaged it anyway.

This car ride may kill me.  I'm hungry, and ornery, and we just started this effing trip.  My dad wont let me drive because I am all "doped up" or so he says.  Believe me, I am starting to realize there aren't enough drugs in this car. Sigh.

PS. 7-Layer Dip Tortilla Combos are effing amazing!!

Backseat buddies. 

My Letter to Rolling Stone Magazine

To Whom It May Concern:

When a person hears the words "Rolling Stone Magazine" it brings a certain nostalgia to their ears. Throughout many years, thousands of aspiring artists and even ones who had made it, fought to be on the cover of this magazine as it was similar to winning the World Series or the SuperBowl for a musician. 

Today you took every ounce of credibility, American-ness, and honor that was being a part of your once great magazine, and not only covered it with excrement, but shat on the soula of Americans everywhere.  Does your magazine also have American flags as door mats and even smaller versions of flags for toilet paper? Do you take company field trips to Arlington just to piss on the graves of those who lost their lives for this country? That is pretty much what you have done by exalting a terrorist onto the cover of your magazine.

Its funny that your address is even "1290 Avenue of the Americas" because you do not belong on an street with a name so distinguished.  To call yourself or anyone at your magazine "American" is blasphemy to those who lost their lives for this country, especially in Boston this year.

How dare you immortalize the face of a murderer on your cover!  You have put John Lennon on the cover three hundred times you couldn't just make it three hundred and one?  Was there really no one else?  Were there really no bands on the planet that couldn't have filled a place on you cover? You make me sick. You make America and its actual American's sick.  If you wanted controversy so bad you could have just thrown Trayvon or Zimmerman on there because Lord knows the two of them had about as much musical ideological effect as Tsarnaev.  

No one needs to remember his name or his face. No one gives two cares that the terrorist was a "popular kid" or an "upstanding student."  He is a murderer.  He deserves death and nothing more.  And since you so clearly support him, you are no better than a terrorist, nay... you are terrorists. 

How you sleep at night is beyond me.  I am certain that if I was a terrorist I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink knowing that I was a disgrace to my country and all of it's citizens.  

I am pretty sure that Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood, and Charlie Watts, even though they were established 5 years before your crappy magazine, are contemplating changing their band name.  I sure wouldn't want to be assimilated with your second-rate magazine in any way, shape or form.

Sincerely,

Mary Anne Theriault

Former Fan & Former Shelf Subscriber of terrorist magazines (Aka: Rolling Stone)

Current American citizen & supporter of our troops

Find My Happiness

Robert Frost once spoke of taken a road less traveled... I seem to have followed that advice quite thoroughly in my life.  I've done everything backward and without a plan.  I have flown by the seat of my pants, drifted with this life's current, and have come out on the other side worse for wear.  I have been broken, bruised, a little tattered, and even a bit upside down.  Now comes another chapter. Another time where I have to make a decision that will shape my future and I don't know what to do or even how to do it.

I am a skeptic. A realist. A bit of a cynic at times... okay more than a bit.  But I am cruising on the last two semesters of my degree and I need to make the adult decision of what I want to be when I grow up.  I don't know in all honesty.  I was accepted to two Universities and I still don't know.  I think I should be aware by now... and I am so not.

I love to write. I have kept a journal since I was nine. It speaks to me; helps me breathe when I can't sometimes.  Putting a pen to a clean sheet of college ruled paper can do more for me than a hundred sessions of therapy.
I also love to read.  I find that reading is more calming for me than almost anything else.  And opening a book, smelling its pages, feeling its binding in my hands is like climbing inside the adventure.

To me, these are hobbies. Nothing more.  They are things people do for fun not for career.  Realistically I can't make real money in this economy with a BA in Journalism under my belt, even though I want to so desperately.

Some say "Do whatever makes you the most money."  I disagree. Others say "You'll never be happy so it doesn't really matter what you do."  Again I disagree. I don't care how long it takes, how many really crappy jobs I have to take, or even how poor I am til the day I die, I will never stop trying to find my version of happiness.

Community College BFFs

A happy day and a sad day all rolled into one.

As one door closes, so many open up.  It was the last day of my Intro to Speech class and I just left the bar where myself and 13 of my classmates went to say our final goodbyes.  Boy was it bittersweet.

On the first day of class, Professor Robinson said "By the end of the semester you guys will be so close you wont believe it." And I didn't believe it.  I don't have trouble making friends so I figured this class would be like any other; I would come to class and leave each day without thinking twice about it. 

On the second day of class she had us all push our desks into a cluster in the center of the room. We were all touching elbows and our personal bubble alarms were shrieking inside our bodies. Uncomfortably close doesn't even explain it.  I honestly think that is where the ice began to melt.  From that point forward we would all hang out before class even started as if we were friends that knew each other for a hundred years.

Sometimes when I would show up even 5 minutes late I would get a text asking where I was.  Every day with this group of people was like going to a party where I knew I would get to see all my friends.  And every speech that was given was like opening a door into their personal lives, their hearts, and maybe even their souls.  I feel like my last minute decision to take this class was complete fate. I originally was taking an Intro to Film course - I had bought the book and everything.  The day before the class had started I dropped Film and took up speech instead. BEST. DECISION. EVER!

Going to the bar with these people was like amazing.  Hanging out in an uncensored environment where we could be ourselves and just have a lot of fun was unforgettable.

So to Cecelia, Mallory, Josh, Billy, Beth, Tyler, Patrick, Emily, Amber, Nick, Aleksey, Joe, Sarah, Evan, Cory... thank you.  For being you above all. I see things differently than I did 8 weeks ago and I could never have done it without all of you. I am here for you if you ever need anything and I love each of you. 

"All Democrats think blank"

"All Democrats think they deserve something while Republicans work their asses off for what they have."

This statement is bold and a little slanted right?  Sounds like something perhaps Bill O'Reilly would say?  This statement given today by none other than my Political Science professor in my American Government class.  I get it. Truly. A lot of people in this society expect something for nothing.  A lot of people don't have a high sense of value or work ethic like in years passed, however, to make a generalized comment like the aforementioned quote you better be able to listen to the other side.  

I am not a Republican.

I am not a Democrat.

I am, however, on Unemployment.

I am a single mother.  I could easily get child support, welfare, food stamps, medicaid, and other types of government aid just because I am a single mother.  I do not get any of these.  Nor do I believe that because I am a single mother or unemployed that I am "entitled" to anything.  

So I fought my teacher on it this time. I couldn't hold my tongue for the entire semester.

I started coolly with "Can you really generalize that?"

Then it went back and forth like so:

"Yup" he said.

"I know 6 Conservative Republicans on welfare.  So how does that work?" I asked.

"No you don't."

"I do, actually."

"You just think you do. They aren't real Republicans."

"Ohhhh so now you think that people are imaginary just because they may differ from you."

"You do not know anyone like that. And its just like a Democrat to blame Republicans."

"I didn't blame anyone. I am not a Democrat, but I can see you don't know how to have an intelligent debate."

Needless to say the rest of the lecture was lost because now my adrenaline was through the damn roof, I was seeing red, all I could hear was blood pounding in my ears, and I wanted to punch him in the throat. You have got to be kidding me?  No one has argued with him all semester. Not once.  He has slammed Democrats for eight weeks, not to mention talked about every minority under the sun and even used slang that you just don't use. I tried so hard to button my lips and chalk it up to ignorance or close-mindedness.  Not today...

I am not unintelligent. I am not a moron. I also do not know everything but I am willing to listen and perhaps even learn, but I do not take kindly to slander and bigotry.  Actually if you want to see me get angry - bigotry is great ammunition.

Several minutes later he was speaking about war and "what would happen if..."  I was still chewing on my lip and my face was still flushed.
"What if a missile was launched in the East and it blew up Alaska..." he began to say.
"Sarah Palin would die." I responded.
"Jesus Christ.  Another Democrat that wants to see a hardworking mother die. Is she really so evil to you? Let me guess, her daughter is a whore too, right?"
"Wow. All I said was that if Alaska blew up, she would be dead. Calm down."
"Typical Democrat."

That term began rubbing me wrong.  Like when you go to Cedar Point on a water ride in your jeans.  By the end of the day you can't walk because the fabric of your pants has chaffed you so bad. What a douche.  I am not a Democrat, but because I don't think like him I am the anti-Christ.
Yet we still wonder what is wrong with America and her politics.  I'll give you one clue. 

Wrists

Only 12 hours after the incident. Blah.  

I haven't been injured yet this year. Not even a ripping open of the knee during a super-awesome slide into second base. I didn't even roll my ankle at volleyball all winter.  I 'was' on a seemingly injure-free path.

Sigh.

24 hrs later

I took a ball of the wrist last night at ball.  Of course, it had to be the night before I leave for a softball tournament.  It was numb instantly and pissed off at me. Until 5 minutes later when I took a line drive off of it again.   Needless to say I needed a minute to regain my composure - as the ball not only hit me in the hand but in the face as well.   My face is fine, my wrist is not. Not. Not. Not.

I would like to think that my wrist trouble is the least of my worries when I have a tournament to play in all weekend, but I am scared to think what this weekend will bring with me pitching.  I am kinda nervous to say the least.

Dragonglass Hearts

I had to say a lot yesterday.  For those who know me you may think "Surprise, surprise. You always say a lot." But when "I had to say" a lot is in reference to my character.

Most people aren't as completely sure of their 'self' as I am.  And while I do not understand it sometimes, it doesn't mean that I am unaware, because I am.  Frighteningly so.

Yesterday was a day of explaining my inability to care.  I can love you, I can do nice things for you, but at the end of the day, my care-o-meter doesn't move from zero.  I don't lose sleep over you, I don't cry myself to sleep if you insult me, I don't journal about your idiocies; My heart strongly resembles that 400 foot wall of ice everyone keeps chattering on about in Game of Thrones. Or maybe I am a White Walker and you can only kill me with dragonglass. Something to consider...  Either way, caring is not in my repertoire.

I find that when I explain it to people it makes me super anxious.  I start pacing and using a plethora of hand gestures that I don't usually bring out in casual convos.  It almost like I get angry that  have to explain myself in the first place. Isn't "I am fucked up" sufficient enough?  Apparently not. So I constantly have to go through these motions with people and tell them why my heart is a black pit of despair, that I have no soul because I am a ginger, and that I will never care enough about you to make you stay.  I know, what a treasure!  I give the whole fairy tale.  My favorite part is no one stays when I push. No one ever stays.  No one can withstand the push. Maybe it's for the better.

My most treasured part is when I get a "One day, you will find someone who will stop you dead in your tracks and then you will sing a different tune."  Again, maybe someone should kill me with that aforementioned dragonglass. Where is Samwell Tarly when I need him?

Green

Everything is green.

The grass, the trees, the moss growing up the side of the garage, the aloe plant in the window sill, and even the duckweed floating around my pond next to the lily pads.  It hasn't stopped raining in 5 days.  Today is the first day the power has been back on in 25 hours so I could actually take a shower and wash some of the bug spray off my body and out of my hair.  I planted my garden before the rain began; I am sure everything has drowned by now.

I remember reading the first book of the Twilight series when Bella spoke of how everything was green in Washington compared to Arizona.  Well so is everything in Michigan.  It is squashy, muddy, damp and green.  Its especially fun when you go outside for five seconds and get eaten alive by mosquitoes.  My least favorite part is that it is ball season.  I want to play, I want to watch, and I want to be outside at the fields.  I've played 3 games this season...  6 have been cancelled.  My daughter plays two nights a week, 5 have been cancelled.  If this is premise to how awfully hot the summer is going to be, I am screwed.   This ginger is going to spontaneously (not maybe not even spontaneously) combust around mid-July.  

Absolute sidebar:  Today is day 229 of no smoking.

A New Semester

Yesterday in my Communications class we did a brainstorm on the board. Yes, precisely as you remember from 2nd grade. The teacher gave us one word and we shouted out what we thought she should write.  The word was "Indian." A great word for a brainstorm.  There were things like genocide, Native American, Hinduism, Mecca, Tepee, Islam, Casinos, etc... People were going in a lot of different directions with this word - which I think was the point. Then she erased all but one word: "Pocahontas."
She said "If I were going to write my speech on her I would perhaps do another brainstorm.  And the first thing that comes to my mind is Lewis and Clark."
Immediately I looked dumb-founded.  It was the first day of class so I couldn't exactly raise my hand and correct her, but now I am completely pissed off that a college professor with two Master's degrees doesn't know that Pocahontas stayed in Jamestown and was probably killed off by a bout of disease, not off traveling in the west like the ENTIRE STORY she told. I wanted to cough out "Sacagawea" but instead I jotted a note to myself down on a little piece of scrap paper and stuck it in my folder so I could think about it later. Class ended shortly after but now I was completely annoyed.

WTF?!

Back in 2002, I had this same teacher for my Comp I class and I really liked her. I excelled and got an A but I do not remember anything like this ever happening.  When I signed up for this class I thought to myself "Sweet. I remember her. This will be a breeze!"  Crap.  Now I can't focus on anything but her stupidity.  A college professor who just got thousands of dollars from her students who she is teaching the wrong shit to? Damnit! C'mon!  Maybe I should have just corrected her so I could move on and get over it.
Sadly, my daughters teachers aren't any better. They Xerox pages out of workbooks and send them home as homework.  No one is learning anything except me, because I have to do YouTube tutorials to figure out how to do her homework. Then teach it to my kid.  Maybe the district should pay me the teacher's salary.  My daughter even had to sign her name the other day and didn't know how to because oh yeah! They don't teach cursive anymore! So what do they teach exactly?  I think it may be a question that needs to be addressed with vehemence. Obviously whatever they are teaching -especially at the college level- is freaking wrong!  Oh my, this is going to be a long semester!

**Update: 5/13/13.  Today in my Political Science class the teacher referred to the book Little Women by one of the Bronte Sisters.  Oh dear.  Little Women was written by Louisa May Alcott. And I know this because I have read it five or six times.  I am hoping this was just a slip up because this teacher seems legitimately smart, but crap. I feel like I am worse off than not going to school at all.  This time I did correct it, for those of you that wanted me to the first time.  I told him "I am sorry for being a prick student and correcting my teacher, but neither of the Bronte sisters wrote Little Women."  Needless to say he thanked me for correcting him; however, I don't think everyone would be as grateful.

Game Over

While I want to write my thoughts down, that the fact that the American government surveils society at random, tortures information from people, and restricts people from speaking too loudly on critical topics makes me leery about putting my thoughts onto a computer... yet here we are.  I cannot avoid the risk of my government potentially blacklisting me unless I were to type this out on a typewriter somewhere.  As an open-minded, educated American, I can sense some of the horrors our government experiencing these days and am constantly seeking new information.  Though, when that information stuns me into silence I find cause for concern.  I don't often find that a topic would confound me into silence, but when I could put myself at risk and those I love at risk by simply using my voice, it strikes fear into my very being.  After seeing Naomi Wolf's documentary End of America, I realized that I have no idea not only what the American government is capable of, but what they are actually taking part in to keep our society in check.  Personally, I have always been a bit of a squeaky wheel.  If something is morally wrong I will be one of the first to speak my mind about it, however, after seeing the horrific things this country sweeps under the rug makes me want to think twice before opening my mouth at all.

When America was still an infant we were run by another country. From all the way across the Atlantic Ocean we had to live by rules and demands set by someone else and this wasn't okay for America.  When the Patriots took hold of America and decided to make it our own place with our own set of rules, they created a democracy; a government for the people where they could be respected and heard. We became America: The Land of The Free.  This was not the first time democracy was used, but the people of America seemed to know exactly what they wanted and needed to be successful and democracy was what suited those best.  What most people don't know is that America has been on a very dangerous path for a long time.  Naomi Wolf pointed out that there were essentially "ten steps a [government would take] to close down an open society" and that America was following all ten steps - which gives me my own personal set of nightmares.  Could we be compared to Stalin's Russia, Mussolini's Italy, and Hitler’s Germany?  America?  It couldn't be possible, yet apparently it is so.

The Department of Homeland Security for example: A department in our federal government created in response to the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001.  A department created to ensure the level of safety of American citizens - essentially to control the fear levels of American citizens.  Naomi Wolf explained how other countries also have to face terrorism, but how they deal with it in a calm way without generating fear in all of its citizens. "[Other countries] take pride in not frightening the citizens and having daily life go on without fear." - Seemingly a very hard concept for America to understand.  Instead we drive fear home with each and every news story ever made. Bombings, terrorist attacks, murder, threats, homicide, abuse - it is never-ending and also a way of life for Americans.  As if we didn't have enough problems without imminent threat looming over our heads all the time.  Just over month after the attacks on 9/11, Congress pushed forward the USA Patriot Act which largely reduced the restrictions that law enforcement agencies had in the gathering of personal information on any citizen of the United States of America. With this law in place citizens lost their privacy at the blink of Congress' eye; people can now be invaded upon "all without having done anything wrong and all without a warrant."

Yet the trepidation doesn't stop there.  Every day people who stand up for what they believe in have been ostracized without any regard.  Anti-war groups, anti-death penalty, environmental groups, and even less aggressive non-violent peace groups have been targeted by our government.  The groups become infiltrated by a mole and the mole relays back all of the groups activity, cause trouble within the group or even to break up the groups. These surveillance and infiltration acts were kept in check by the American Civil Liberties Union or ACLU whose job it was to defend and preserve the rights of every person in this country by the Constitution and laws of the United States. "Surveillance and Infiltration... it's a psychological pressure point not just a tactical one."  Another notch added to the American belt of fear and another way to keep the American people quiet and underneath the thumb of its government.  Sometimes as a joke or in casual conversation I will suggest a radical idea and then say aloud "Uh oh, I bet you the government heard me say that," but I suppose it isn't a joke or even a comedic response, because while they aren't listening to every conversation, I am certain they are listening to a wide variety of them and one day that conversation could be my own.

            Those ten steps to closing down an open society are prime reasons why I would love to no longer be a part of this terrifying place which we call a country; a once a magnificent place that people came to for freedom… for a chance.  In the last fifteen years (roughly) we have broken ourselves as a country and in a disparaging manner.  We have marred ourselves with our treacherous actions and shut up the very people who recognize the destruction and want to fix it.  My heart breaks for this country.  This country where my ancestors came for their shot at happiness and never in their wildest dreams would have believed that it would be a place their grandchildren would run from – in fear.  I tell people all the time that I want to leave America and while to some that may sound incredible to others it makes sense.  “…We lost our way – we just need to find our way back to the path that served us well for so long…”  Together, as Americans, we can make anything happen… if only we weren’t so afraid to do so.

Family Values

Yesterday I decided to take a look at all the food in my home and determine how much of it – or how little- was organic, non-G.M.O, and fresh.  I found four kinds of food in my fridge, plus an array of in season fruits and vegetables, one type in my freezer, and zero in my pantry.  After watching the documentary Food, Inc., I became disturbed by my own eating habits as well as the eating habits of the rest of the world. I had thought I ate fairly well and after seeing this documentary, apparently by comparison to a large majority of Americans, I do.  I eat a low calorie diet consisting of mainly fresh foods, but apparently some of the things within my meals are where my diet is considered poor.  Who has set this example for Americans telling them that it is okay to eat badly?  When did we decide it is okay to put convenience over our values? It is not okay to poison our bodies while filling the wallets or corporate big shots.

In late 2003, I stopped eating fast food, more specifically McDonald's. I had learned some of the horrors within the company are particularly when it came to their food and how in time it literally poisons the human body.  In 2010 I started eating only organic meats as a result of my eight-year old daughter becoming pubescent.  When majority of the third grade class is wearing bras, it is time to look at where we have taken a wrong turn. This is when I first learned of hormones and antibiotics (among other things) being given to the animals we are eating. As a result we are putting those hormones and antibiotics into our own bodies. I knew I had to make some changes for myself and for my growing daughter, but I suppose just those changes aren't enough.  I never would have imagined that the foods I was eating (other than meat) were unhealthy or that there even was such a thing as a G.M.O.  I guess I never would have thought that something as simple as food, particularly fresh food, could be bad for me. The industry pulled the wool over my eyes just the way they intended to.

Society has been engineered to eat foods that are not necessarily good in any way, shape, or form, but more or less convenient for the working parents and those on a strict budget.  Fresh asparagus can cost upwards of $3 at a grocery store, while a bag of potato chips can be just $2.  In Food, Inc., it is expressed that a person can buy an entire cheeseburger at a fast-food restaurant for under a dollar, but a head of broccoli will cost at least $1.50 or if you buy organic it will cost upwards of $2.50.  As a buyer of some organic foods, it is tough sometimes to decide between that which harms your wallet over that which harms your physical being.  When I switched to organic eggs, I found myself thinking "A carton of organic cage-free eggs is $4, while you can get the store brand kind for $.99. Is it really going to hurt me to eat the cheap ones?"  We seem have put our "convenience" on the dollar menu and our "values" in the organic aisle. 

Chickens, for example, have been "redesigned" just like our values have.  Chickens now grow to twice the average size in half the time.  Instead of the normal five months it takes a chick to become a fully grown chicken, they can now reach twice that size in just forty-nine days.  People also prefer the boneless, white, breast meat of a chicken so they have been designed to grow larger in the breasts, because a big, fat chicken will feed more people and give Mr. Meat Man more money.  We have redesigned life to appeal to our desire for convenience.  In most cases, chickens are harvested indoors, in the dark, in cages, twenty-four hours a day, until they die on their own or are sent for slaughter.  When did we take the value off of the lives of chickens?  When did it become okay to let any creature live this way even if it is to satiate our bellies?

Perhaps next we can begin redesigning human life to rid genetic flaws.   If the chickens can have bigger breasts, then maybe we can tweak our genetic makeups and let humans have bigger breasts too… or smaller feet… or smaller waists.  Plastic surgery could be a thing of the past if we could just alter our D.N.A. to give us that blond hair or green eyes we always wanted.  Despite the human need for constant self-improvement, I personally think human value on life is too high to go altering our genetic makeups, but on the life of a chicken, it wouldn't matter to most people.  Not if there is more breast meat to go around.  So where does the line get drawn?  When do we decide whose lives are more important than the next?  A living creature is a living creature and life was not meant for humans to come along and start altering genetic codes as easily as it is to get dressed in the morning.  Our values have gone out with yesterday's trash.

In Food, Inc., it is said "If you send something by the scanner, you are voting for it." This past week I went through the organic section in the supermarket and found that the cooler that sells the organic milk and yogurts was almost completely barren.  I hadn't switched my milk to organic yet and wanted to start that day, but I couldn't.  Was I angry that the shelves weren't stocked to meet the demand?  No. It made me happy to know the cooler was empty even though it had inconvenienced me from buying the one thing I needed most. It means people are voting for organic milks and yogurts, but why not everything else?  Maybe because spending all your money in the organic aisles will leave you penniless.  We seem to forget that while buying organic does destroy our piggy banks; it does not destroy our bodies.   We are supposed to value our bodies over our wallets; then again we are not supposed to consider eating well an inconvenience. 

We have lost sight of the important things in this life: the values on wholesomeness over material conveniences in a world where our children are the ones who suffer with their too-soon pubescent bodies and their poor eating habits instilled since birth.  Maybe one day we will pull that shroud out from in front of our eyes and put value keeping this body happy and healthy - seeing as this is the only body we get.   

Soundtrack of My Life

It's funny how a song can take you back to a place and time as if you were stepping into a time machine.  Or can become this warm blanket that encompasses you and takes you to a place in your past - or even in your present.  Even the chords before the lyrics begin can spark a memory you forgot existed within yourself.  I have always been a musical person.  While I couldn't play an instrument if my life depended on it, I can sing - and do quite often.  Just ask my ten-year old daughter who is constantly telling me to zip it.  I often consider myself a walking karaoke machine, because I can remember the lyrics to thousands of songs, even those I haven't heard in many years. 

I love music about as much as I love food. Or sleep.  Or oxygen.  It gets me through hard times, good times, and even the times in between.  Sometimes I make playlists of certain songs just to get my mind to calm down when it races into the wee hours of the night.  I find that no matter where I am, where I go, or what I do, music is what I cling to.  Some people listen to the melodies and swoon.  I, personally, am a lyric girl.  I find that song whose words can't escape me. 

I used to make these incredibly elaborate mixes for people telling them what I thought of them and how I felt.  Each tape (eventually CD) was painstakingly hand-crafted.  I would sit in front of my boombox with my pad of paper for hours, rewinding and playing, rewinding and playing, rewinding and playing songs to make sure I knew each and every lyric.  I had thirty notebooks filled with lyrics that I would sometimes just sit and read, singing along a cappella.  I know the lyrics now to thousands of songs.

As a mom, there have been hundreds of songs I want to "dedicate to my daughter" so that when she hears them she thinks of me.  Some that fit my situation so well that I can't help but weep when I hear them.  About our struggle as a team of mother and daughter and how we can get through anything as long as we stick together. 

My personal favorite is when you hear a song when you are somewhere random and you remember which movie it is from. When you get home you have to watch it because the nostalgia is so overwhelming.  I place songs with movies constantly.  I will hear the same song throughout several different motion picture soundtracks and feel this self-accomplishment that I recognized it. Like anyone gives a damn but me. 

How about a love song that makes you think of a forgotten love in your life.  Or a whole album you listened to that even one song on it slams you into a time you can remember as good as the back of  your hand.  It is amazing that songs have these capabilities to spark a longing inside of you. 

I don't even know why I am sharing these thoughts.  Perhaps because I have been soundtracking my life for the last 3 straight days.  Belting out random lyrics that fit with what is happening or just a random up-tempo pop-tune to get me through to the next activity.  Oh well, I guess there could be worse things, eh?

German-y

You know you are getting older when life takes you in a different direction than your best friend.

Our lives have been running in two completely different paths for the last few years but we have managed to stay friends while the world pulls us apart.  Within the last year we have spent the least time together than ever before.  She has had a child within the last year and half, while I did that ten years ago.  She has a live-in man, while I find the mere thought of living with someone mind-boggling.  A number of different factors that makes our two worlds just that - two worlds.  We used to be inseparable to the point where people began telling us we looked like sisters when we look nothing alike. We spent a good decade together without a hitch. She could have been growing off my hip and I wouldn't have even noticed because we were never apart anyway.

Last night I got to spend a few hours with her. I drove to her house and sat in the bathroom while she was in the shower, like we were 17 again.  We talked in our voice that no one understands so that no one could hear us from outside the bathroom.  We drove to our friend Joel's house because he was having some volleyball peeps over for a random gathering.  We went there and I swear most of the time it was like no one else was in the room.  We just get lost in our stupid jokes and stories.  She can read me like a book - and, I, her.  It's almost like the things we say would never make sense to anyone except her and me.  Maybe everyone else in the house noticed it too. That we spent a good portion of the time on our phones showing each other random YouTube videos (like this video) and trying to decipher what others were even talking about.  We talked about love for a moment and I didn't even have to say anything to her - she already knew exactly what I was thinking about the situation.  She knew my heart was torn without even looking me in the eyes and seeing the pain I felt. The stuff only best friends can do.


The point I am even trying to get across is sometimes life likes to decide for you the people you will surround yourself with and the people you love the most may be the people you see the least.  While I love my best friend unfailingly and we only see each other maybe once a month, she is still my best friend who I would punch people in the face for (or call 911 at least) and do absolutely anything for.  Or her daughter.  I guess I just want to say thanks.  After 14 years of everything one person could possibly imagine, thanks for being you.

A Day Like Today

Life will never cease to amaze me.  It's constant twists and turns always lead me back to a place I can call home.  Even though there are times that I don't want to stay in this place -or in this city- anymore, I still love the moments that make me feel fuzzy.

You know those friends you have that you don't talk to very often and rarely see, then you see each other and it was like you were never apart?  Those are my favorite relationships.  You can spend an entire afternoon of playing "catch up" and reminiscing about the past.  Picking up where you left off, like no time has passed at all.  It is such a surreal feeling.

I had one of those days today -and it was next to perfect. A day where every story that was told brings slammed me into the past, whipping up so much nostalgia that my cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much and my mind is in an absolute frenzy of memories and just life in general. 

Sometimes I don't feel like I have gone down the right road and made the right choices for not only myself, but for my daughter.  Yet on days like today, I know that the choices I have made are okay.  I know that no matter what has happened in the past or what will happen in the future, that things are the way they are supposed to be.  I wish I would have tweaked it a little but it has been such a learning process.  Maybe I wouldn't be me if I would have changed the course.  

This sums today up so nicely.

Bob Dylan

My cat is sick.

Several weeks ago Dylan was covered in scabs around his neck and butt and he pretty much licked his nipples off.  I know, quivering thought eh?  Dylan is my 19 lb. cat - my big boy.  He is now down to 14 lbs. and puking anywhere from 3 to 12 times a day. He has eaten of almost all of the fur on his legs and stomach and he looks like he stuck his tail in a light socket. I have an appointment set for tomorrow to find out what is wrong but I fear that tomorrow will be the end of Dylan. We already saw a doctor about him close to 3 months ago and I 'm afraid they will just tell me the same thing.

My kitty, Dylan, is only 4 years old.  His older brother Preston, I had to put down at 6 years old due to severe Diabetes.  I couldn't afford the medicine and lets face it, it's a cat.  I feel bad for my little man even though I cannot stand him 95% of the time.  Cats are so inbred it really doesn't shock me that they get so sick but darn it, it makes me sad.  While I cannot stand him, I don't want him to be sick.  I don't want him to suffer either.

I will post after tomorrow's appointment to let anyone who cares know how he ended up. I may just update this post.

**Update 1/29/13:  Just got home from the vets and Dylan is doing - eh... well.  I bought him a catnip treat and he is wasted right now, but other than that he is on $120 worth of meds to cure him of his illness.  Steroids, antibiotics, AND a parasite treatment.  The doctor didn't really know what is wrong with him but this will be a start to figuring it out.

Oh and of course he pooped in his carrier in my car on the drive home.  Must have been one of those "Thanks Mom.  I appreciate all you do for me!" moments. Little bastard.

**Update #2 (2/1/13):  Went to the doctors again this morning as Dylan will not stop puking. They did x-rays and a blood draw.  The x-ray shows there is definitely something in his stomach making him miserable, but whether it is fur or an obstruction we are unsure.  Blood results will be in tomorrow.  $260 later and I am back at home with my sick kitty. :(

My Little Free Spirit

For the last few months my daughter has been having a rough time on the bus rides to and from school.

This morning she came to me with tears in her eyes:
"Can I not ride the bus anymore?"
I knew in an instant that something was going on again.
"No honey, you can't hide from life."
"But yesterday was really bad and I don't want it to be like that again."

She proceeded to show me her hat I bought her for Christmas.  One of those hats with an animals face on it and there are two strings that hang down from it with big pom-poms at the end. Apparently one of the boys on the bus yanked on the strings til the ball was nearly ripped off -which did make me pretty mad.

"Did you tell Miss Karen?" (Miss Karen is the bus driver)
"Well... no."
"Then obviously you don't care if people destroy your belongings."
"Mom!"

A few minutes of banter passed where I told her to quit letting people act however they want around her; to quit letting people walk all over her all the time.  Then she showed me her hand, where one of her closest friends since Kindergarten raked her nails into my daughter's skin.  Sure as shit, there were red nail marks on the back of her hand. I asked why and received an answer that it was unprovoked and for no reason. So I pretty much lost it.

"Someone physically hurts you and you allow it?  Punch her in the face. I give you permission."
"Mom... I don't hit people."
"Did you tell Miss Karen?"
"No. I don't want to be embarrassed."
*sigh*
"Babe, you cannot let people treat you like this. Especially someone you call a friend."

She does let them though, she always has.  Funny enough, though she wasn't around for my childhood, I did too. I was walked on and bullied from Elementary school through High School.  It makes me sick to the core.  My stomach is churning just typing this out.  I am not like that now and have no issues with bullying at this point in my life probably because I was abused so much as a kid.  Now, I have no tolerance for bullying, whatsoever.  When I hear about it all I see is red. Blood red.  I wound up getting pretty heated about it this morning and my daughter wound up crying.  My daughter is a sensitive soul.  She is one of those free-spirit/old souls who just wants everyone to be happy and for everyone to love each other.  I love that about her. How she is so carefree and sweet. She is too young to understand that realistically a peaceful world is unattainable. If you ever heard the song "That's The Way" by Led Zeppelin, that is my song for her.

All in all, I passed the situation on to the bus driver -who just so happened to run into the girl's mother at school.  Not even 20 minutes later the mom was on my front porch extending her apologies.  I told her not to jump to any conclusions until she talked to her daughter about the situation. She ranted about how her daughter was grounded and she was taking away all of her toys and DVDs.  I didn't feel bad even an ounce for that, but I was still feeling bad that my daughter does't know how to stand up for herself.  I don't know what to do or how to get around this, but my heart is heavy.  She only has 4 months left in elementary school and then she is on to junior high where it just gets harder.  :(

Your Passion or Mine?

In English class last Monday, we had to write three paragraphs on something we felt passionately about so the professor could gauge how we write and what styles we use when doing so.  I swear I could have sat there the entire night and not come up with a topic.  While I feel emotion in regard to many topics, I am one of those people who can see both sides so clearly that sometimes it blurs my passionate lines.  Liberal to the core I suppose.

Either way I ended up writing about politics.  One thing I am not incredibly seasoned in, but one that is paving a really wide road through my life right now - especially with friends and family.  I wrote them in a very hurried yet semi-lengthy way.  Almost everyone else had left before I was finished with my bland three paragraphs.  I pretty much could have written all night just on the things that were pouring out of me, but I cut them short and wrapped it up for the night. I wrote how since November 6th (Election Day), I have deleted over 90 people from my Facebook - mostly for political reasons.  Not because someone may not think like I do, but because of the blatant ignorance pouring out of people these days.

This past Monday I got my paper back.  I have been so nervous since school started that I was honestly expecting a pretty bad review of my paper.  I could see mine sitting at the top of the stack and there was all kind of notes littering the margins.
Oh dear, has it been that long since I was in school that I have forgotten how to write three freaking paragraphs properly? 
The class is in regard to Composition and making sure we can write in the right format and blah blah blah. The meat and potatoes of it all is to write a thesis on a topic in the news that we are passionate about.  One that we can argue and state facts about. Yikes.  Here comes that pesky passionate bullshit again.

Sidebar: One thing I look for in a partner is passion.  Sure a man can be incredibly good looking and smart, but if he has the same passion as a wet dishrag then I will pretty much end the relationship then and there. And by passion I do not mean hobbies.  By passion I mean, he wants to leave a mark on something whether it be his kids, his nieces and nephews, feeding the hungry or even world peace.  I am extremely attracted to a guy that I lives his life on behalf of something other than himself.

She handed my paper back and within the margins it said things like "Love this opening!" and "Great rhetorical question!"  The one that got me was "You could use this for your paper topic! It would be new, since no one has done it yet. Interesting paper."  I did a literal facepalm right there. I didn't even know what to say, where to start, how to react, any of it.  Adrenaline started coursing through my body and I wasn't even sure how to move my legs to walk away from her.  I just stood there like a mannequin.  I have under-estimated myself. And though this was only the first assignment and I have a LONG way to go before I walk away with an 'A' in the class, I still felt my confidence level sky rocket.   It's one thing to keep a journal every day or blog on the occasion, but to have someone else tell you that they like your ideas is one thing you can't buy in a store.

Reeling from the aftermath, I picked up 4 books for research and have written 2 pages of a rough draft.  It isn't even due until mid-March.  Needless to say I am a bit excited.  Every day when I go to my classes (whether it is English or otherwise) I am on a high.  Like college is where I am supposed to be.

I guess I owe a thank you to Lowe's for that fateful day when I was fired.  Thank you for changing my life for the absolute best!

I Am The Sunshine

I awoke today to find that I didn't want to go along with any of the plans that I had set for myself. When I looked at my cellphone, the too-white screen blared to life showing me it was only 5am, and since falling back asleep was not really an option, I decided to open the book I was reading the night before.
I got a good two hours in when my alarm to start the day started going off.  Typically when the alarm goes off I snooze it to death.  Today, I was like the sunshine.

Of course Lou got to school without a hitch and I had my whole day mapped out before me.  I even had a list written out of the people to call, the bills to pay, and the places I was supposed to go.  I held that yellow Post-It note in my hand before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it across the room.  I wandered to my bedroom, put my sweats back on and crawled into bed.  Bea jumped right up on the bed as if on cue. She does that when I wake up in the morning, she will go back in my room, jump right up on the bed, and cock her head to the side as if to say, "But mommy, aren't we going to sleep in longer?"   There have been instances where she has been to bed at 9pm and will sleep until 11am.  She also does this cute thing of when you climb into bed and lift the covers to pull them around yourself, she nudges her nose under them. Meaning: Lift them back up so I can come under too.  And I do. And she does. Every day.  It's funny that for an emotionally detached old maid who doesn't like to cuddle, that I snuggle up a pit bull every day like it is my job.

So I fired up my tablet and took off back down Firefly Lane.  It only took me another hour or so to finish the story.  As we all know I am a emotional person. This book hit me like a ton of bricks. I was weeping when it was over. I cried maybe 40% of this book that is how much it touched my heart. Good thing my cousin Bridget called to take me off topic or I may have sobbed for hours.
Firefly Lane is a tale of two best friends, Tully and Kate, whose paths crossed when they were 13 and they were inseparable from that point forward- even though they were two very different people. Life took them on a lot of journeys and misadventures.  I didn't relate to one of them, yet a little to both. Neither story was quite my own, but nonetheless, I felt the pangs of friendships lost, loves lost, family lost, childhood lost. Okay, that's a lot of loss.  Tully liked to push people away and that I could relate too, because it was one of my best qualities.  Kate was passive to her friends and they usually took advantage of her for it. Again with the hitting home.  It had me spending an afternoon thinking deeply of life and it's path.

One thing about being jobless is that unemployed people usually watch more TV than they can stomach.  I on the other hand do not have cable.  Books who have always been a dear friend are now my absolute solace. My love. So after putting dinner and homework, I decided I had to start a new adventure.  Lou was playing something on the iPod and I decided on reading Heaven Is For Real.  I had heard it was good but heard nothing more.  I ate that novel up in two hours flat. I don't know if I believe the story that a boy went into surgery, "died" even though the records don't show it, and went to Heaven with Jesus, to come back and share his tale.  So here I sit, thinking about faith.  Something you could wonder about for all of time and never have an answer to. Guess we will all know one day.  Eternity does kind of freak me out though. Sounds like a commitment which we all know I avoid.

Maybe tomorrow I won't read a book and I will rejoin society instead.  I sure hope society is under my covers snuggled up next to Beatrice.