we didn't start the fire.

go woman go

I have to admit I looked this up to verify...

...as reading all of the blatant lies and hypocrisy contained within the words of a book I once was willing to lay my life down for are unfolded in front of my eyes. It took my breath away.

 

2 Samuel 24:1

Again the anger of the LORD burned against Israel, and he incited David against them, saying, “Go and take a census of Israel and Judah.” 

1 Chronicles 21:1

Satan rose up against Israel and incited David to take a census of Israel. 

Yes. Yes, I was once willing sacrifice my very life. Albeit, that time in my life was also a time when I prayed for death, for the sweet release, and only did not take my own life out of fear of damnation. That much I can thank religion for. It was the fear that kept me in line.

Wouldn't it have been wonderful, though, if I had received real counseling, real therapy, and real management for my internal struggle? If I had been given the tools to find happiness and contentment inside me at a more tender age? Often, I find myself wondering if I would have ended up the same person if I had not had these struggles or sought these particular refuges.

What would I have missed out on? What would I have fallen prey to? Would my parents have been able to teach me how to handle myself in the world without instilling the fear of God in me, or would I have been dangling free in the wind without direction? I'm not sure, really. 

I do know that I could have spared the abuses of my life and still come out a healthy, smart, independent individual. Do I consider religion to be one of those abuses? Sigh. I guess I'm not willing to make that call yet. Some things never take time to change.

edit: of course this is not the only example. Just one I found today. I plan to re-read the Bible for myself very soon, without the rose colored glasses I once wore. 

Chico, Harpo, Groucho, Gummo and Zeppo

I've been interested lately in socioeconimic theory, and have been peeked mainly by the role of economic pressures on healthcare, political stability, and human rights. I've meant to read philosophical texts in the past, and I'm getting around to it finally in real time. I've been reading a lot, and while my memory isn't all that great these days, some of it is starting to stick. Thank goodness for smart phones, as definitions and theoretical arguments can be made with a few taps when you're in a conversational pickle. 

I also have been deeply interested in behavior and evolutionary studies of non-human animals, somewhat out of curiosity, but mainly as a window into understanding ourselves. I have always believed that if we could only peer into the minds of our fellow earth inhabitants, we might peer into the minds of our selves. This was why I had intended on studying primatology, bioanthropology, and even entomology, and why neuroscience was able to capture my attention so readily and for long with little effort to maintain my interest. 

So, I've been reading - or should I say: I've been downloading with the intent to read - books on economic theory. I just downloaded The Communist Manifesto, and I can tell you that once I finish Catch-22 and The God Delusion, I'm diving head first into it. Ask me about it in 2 or 3 months. I'm a slow reader. 

In the meantime, I've gotten my hands deep into the webiverse and stumbled virtual face-first into the best article on the affects of money on society ever: evidence of monkey prostitution. Basically, these scientists at Yale (doing what I had once fancied to do myself) ran experiments in which they taught the concept of monetary exchange to a group of captive capuchin monkeys. Once the basic concept of economics was down insofar as the worth of a token in relation to a food item (grapes, marshmallows, etc), the scientists were able to run behavior studies on concepts like altruism and selfishness, trade values, budgeting, and gambling. Everything was going well until the inevitable happened: monkey jailbreak/bank heist. Seems the monkeys were occasionally stealing money, and that in once instance a capuchin we'll call "Robin Hood" snared the entire tray of tokens and flung them up and over the barrier into the monkey enclosure, setting off a monkey may-lay of money hoarding and scrambling researchers desperate to bribe the monkey crooks with food in an effort to retrieve the stolen goods.  It was then that it happened.

There in the midst of the robbery ruckus, two monkeys engaged in an exchange as old as the concept of monetary exchange itself: one little fucker fucked his monkey lover in exchange for monkey money, the newly hired prostitute attempting to exchange her payment for food immediately post monkey coitus. In short, according to the article, "When taught to use money, a group of capuchin monkeys responded quite rationally to simple incentives; responded irrationally to risky gambles; failed to save; stole when they could; used money for food and, on occasion, sex." 

The seemingly natural responses - of primates, at least - to money were confirmed by the set of studies and mishaps contained within these sets of experiments. The researcher's response, though - specifically fear - is what I find most intriguing about the entire situation.

If the first response to an unlimited supply of money is to exchange it in part for sexual activity, why should that exchange be viewed as so very startling or unsavory? What is it about the idea of prostitution that curls our toes? 

There are dangers present in the sex industry, we know. Prostitutes are beaten and abused, raped and murdered in prostitution exchanges gone wrong. Is it the prostitution itself the root of these evils, though? Don't we all engage in this to some degree? There's the age old "he could have at least bought me dinner first" and they sugar daddy/gold digger scenario ever present. Women are taught to submit to their husbands as a tribute to their man's hard day at work. His reward for bringing home the bacon, for protection and housing and provisions for the family. Don't get me wrong, here: this is not a one-way gender street, and the givers and getters have a fluid set of identities over the spectrum. My point is, though, that sex is often used as a reward and as a lever. And there are places where prostitution is regulated and that the instance of abuse and the spread of disease is dampered. One could compare the rates of these maladies against the rates of their existence in a whole variety of venues and relationships, and we could be surprised to find higher rates of malintent or misuse in the homes of married couples living in certain social pools than those of the ladies at the Moonlite BunnyRanch. I don't have the statistics, but I'm willing to admit I've got a hunch.

My point is that prostitution seems to be about as old as the concept of monetary exchange, and what seems to be the real foundation of its evils are the values placed on the women and not on the act. Women are sexual beings, too, and perhaps it is the idea that women can manipulate the amount and frequency of sexual encounters as a tool of economic strategy that's bothersome to men. Perhaps we had originally held the notion that we could have our cakes and eat them too, feigning non-interest to increase the value through a law of supply and demand, and that it was over time and under force that we began to believe the lie ourselves.

note: When I first wrote the sentence beginning "Prostitutes are beaten and abused..," I used originally had placed the value "women" in the "prostitution" space, and then thought better of it, as there are male prostitutes, and I'm sure that a good many of them have suffered at the hands of abusers. There tales are not as told, however, and those who do tell are generally reporting as gay prostitutes. 

Kidnapped

You should consider donating to this film production. I gave $10 - I give between $10 and $25 to organizations as they are brought to my attention, so this is just one of dozens that I've supported. I believe that $10 is a hell of a lot of money if you can convince 1000 people to give it, and in this case I was right. When I gave my $10, there was only $320ish dollars in the kitty, and now there is over $7000. The goal is close at hand, but there is a little less than $3000 to go and 21 days left to give. Please plunk down a five spot if you can do it. The gift amounts that are most common for this film are $25 and $100, but there are plenty of folks giving five bucks and it definitely helps.

Let me tell you why this film is important to me, personally.

I came out to my parents as a lesbian in a public place after I was financially stable. I waited until I had bought my own home and needed nothing more from them before I even allowed myself to have my first lesbian relationship, believing in my heart that shit would hit the fan if I got caught before then. My suspicions were right. The look on my mother's face when I told her was pure venom. If she could have beaten me to a bloody pulp it would have been her pleasure. Her eyes narrowed and the words that she spoke came out in a hiss. She was disgusted by me. My father was sympathetic. I believe that the news and their separate reactions nearly pushed them to divorce. They are still together and I am glad that I am not the cause of their demise. But I sensed a close call for a minute and in the very least I can be thankful that it pushed my father and I closer together. 

It wasn't too long before my mother offered to send my partner and I to one of these camps. The idea was to check yourself in voluntarily for an undetermined amount of time for therapy. It was, of course, a Christian organization. Obviously, I declined. I can only imagine what the curriculum for that program, centered on adults, would have been. I don't believe that it could have been as abusive as these schools are reported to be - the one I was "offered" was on US soil and catered toward adults 18 and over. But I do believe in the very pit of my soul that this could have and WOULD have happened to me if I had come out to my parents while I was still a minor, and that the financial support I counted on to survive would have been cut off sharply if they would have known when I was in college. Sometimes I felt bad about lying to them about who I was, but I got over it.

Being forced to take a stand like this pushes you into a corner, and necessitates a soap box. While I can not claim the extreme mental anguish that these children suffer simply for being themselves, for perhaps being braver than I, I can tell you with certainty that I had no choice but to pick a side and stand on it, rather than standing freely in the center, roaming around to whatever depths and corners I was able to find true happiness. I took stands to take them, and made choices to make them, without having the ability to follow the path that just led me to me. 

It may have taken me 32 years, but I'm finally able to live free. I can choose to be whomever I want to be, I can change with my situations and make choices based on the moment... based on my needs and desires... based on what truly makes me happy. I often imagine what it would have felt like to grow up this free, this loved, this content. My retribution is proactivity; I give to these causes, and I vow to bring up at lease one happy child in my lifetime.

Dear future mini-me: I will never send you to a torture camp to make you into something you are not. I will always love and support you, and I will always be the mother that you need. I will do my best, and I will let you show me what that best means. I will recognize your autonomy and I will be your champion and biggest fan, no matter who you end up as. 

Even if you're a republican. :P

closer.

I recently joined reddit, and have always been pretty active in the online community in one form or another since chat rooms came into vogue in the mid 90's. They used to mainly be a thing where you could go and get harassed by dudes looking for a little "c2c," but have since become something of a real collective of ideas and information, a place for sharing theories, testing hypotheses, and pushing boundaries. If you don't believe me, just turn on the news. Teh interwebs are teh importents.

It was the in-person discussions sparked by internet conversation such as those found in reddit that has opened my eyes to something I believe I have known for quite some time. I am an atheist. 

Fuck. that was scary to type. Not in a God might smite me down scary, but in a what if there is something, ANYTHING out there and I might have to admit I was wrong scary. I guess I've admitted I was wrong before, and while I am certain that the idea of deity as it has been described surely does not exist, I am not certain that we will not find something out there that might be outside of my understanding. I can rest assured that there are already thousands of things that are outside of my understanding, that is, until I go and seek out the facts for myself. I can rest assured that I am smart enough to be able to tell the difference between a peer-reviewed journal and a book of myths, that I am able to tell the difference between fact and fiction if I put enough energy into finding out the truth for myself. I can rest assured that the things that inspire awe in me are still awesome without divine intervention.  I can rest assured that my success has come from hard work, and that if you can judge a tree by the fruit it bears, that I am one tasty fruit tree of godless scientific exploration, with branches hung low under the weight of a good many and variety of fruits. I can rest assured that the absence of personal memorization of every fact ever proven or every statistic ever measured does not necessitate a belief in something that defies logic, and that my individual shortcomings and misunderstandings are not proof that God exists.  It's a shame that we fear being wrong in the first place. Being proven wrong is how we learn and grow.

I've claimed agnosticism for a good long while now, somewhat out of the emotional handicap I was burdened with a-la religious brainwashing (fear), somewhat out of what I considered "respect" for those that I love who still believe. I am not sure, still, that it is necessarily my place to push certain people in any direction, and I won't confront some individuals with what I know to be truth and fact backed up by decades of scientific documentation. Those whom I would not challenge, I leave undisturbed because I am selfish about my relationships with them. I don't want to do or say something that would cause someone I love dearly to feel the need to distance themselves from me any more than they already have. And I have a sneaking suspicion that part of the distance that separates us is not in the miles between our houses but in the miles between our hearts. And that is sad. I miss those people in my life, and while not all of the blame rests on the shoulders of my theology - I wasn't always the nicest person - I believe that a good part of it does. We were closer when I was a believer. Further, I know that the pain of finding that you've been duped is deep, and that the psychological bonds of religion are strong. It was hard for me to walk away from it in the first place when I was in my early twenties, and I was single so I only had to worry about how the process affected myself. It hurts like hot coals, and while I don't wish that pain on anyone, I can't promise that I will be able to hold my tongue much longer. 

Some of the hesitation to adorn the label of the atheist, though, is my desire to free myself from the shackles of categorization: a practice that I believe hinders us as individuals rather than granting us the sense of community that we think we're looking for. Call it whatever you'd like, then; I am stating here that I believe in facts and not fiction, and that while we might be able to learn some veiled lesson from mythologies and parables, we can learn more from studying truths and having honest discussions about them. There are plenty of hypotheticals to go around without a holy text in play.

Part of what bothers me about the indoctrination of religions like fundamentalist and evangelical Christianity - I name these because I have experience with them - is the insistence that a person should surround themselves only with those who are like-minded, and to break ties with those who are not. The Bible encourages you to abandon your family if they do not believe, and that I find that mind set made it very easy for my family to abandon me. What bothers me about a good many religions in general is the insistence on having control over the actions of those who are not members. Take the current debates on contraception and abortion, issues which without the interference of the Church are matters of health care, but with the interference of the Church become some moral debate based on their teachings and NOT the law or medical science. How the First Amendment of the Constitution has not put these debates to rest is beyond my ability to reason.

It hurts my brain to know that I, too, was sucked in, and that I, too, fell into the circle-jerk that the Church offers. Without infusions of free thinking and different-mindedness, there is no room for innovation or invention, no progress, no advancement of knowledge. If the Church had its way, we would enter into a new Dark Ages, rather than the period of Enlightenment, which I believe we are now in. I thank my college education for beginning my journey.

I believe that it is important to continue to study religion, and I will continue to read texts derived for/from and supporting all of the faiths of the world that I can, in an effort to understand history, philosophy, and culture, as well as to help humanity avoid the mistakes of the past. History is doomed to repeat itself unless we learn from it.

So, what ties this all in together? What does reddit and the internet have to do with this blog post (other than it being, well, actually the internet)? In particular, this thread addresses what I believe to be one of the most dangerous uses of religion against the masses, and outlines, sometimes in jest, the real and present danger involved in the possible election of a religious zealot to the office of President of the United States. We are in real trouble here, folks. If someone like Santorum is allowed to hold this office, starting in 2013 or at any time, we are sure to ruin ourselves and a country that I happen to love. What's worse: this country that I love, standing at the brink of destruction by a rabidly fascist Christian would-be leader, also is the source of much of the world's wealth and military might. Santorum or his liking in the White House not only means the end of personal freedom for women, minorities, and LGBT peeps - a backpedaling of American politics to the 1800's - but also points to the destruction of the middle class and an age of war that might not be ended in our lifetimes. Yeah, that means you, middle America. If you think it's bad now, just wait. The shit that comes out of this creep's mouth in the name of God is truly terrifying, and he should be stopped.

Not only should he be stopped, but the movement of the conservative Christian right in this country should be stopped, as it should be stopped across the globe. Man, I can remember those revivals I went to in High School, and they are straight up lying about history, science, and psychology to the youth of our nation. They are brainwashing our children after emptying them out emotionally, so that there is plenty of room to fill them back up with fear and lies. The teachings of the Bible are dangerous and destructive to the Earth and Home Sapiens, as well as to every single living thing and every single progressive ideal ever imagined. The promotion of fallacy over fact is not only dangerous to our freedom but to our intellect and to our progress as a nation and as a people. This idea that the United States is somehow meant to be a Christian Nation is anti-American and historically inaccurate. 

Let me get it out of the way that I am absolutely not moved by the ranting of the general internet audience - I'm far too stubborn for that - but by the truthful chord struck in a single statement.

It is for these reasons - fear and logic - that I am here outing myself, once again, and hoping that it inspires others to do the same. Standing in the shadows as a free-thinker isn't so free after all, and I have a vitamin D deficiency, so I need a little sun on my ass.

it ain't no fun if the homies can't have none.

I don't believe in altruism. I also don't "believe" in emotion as something pure and unadulterated, even though I'm a goddamn black-hole of the stuff. I recognize it as a combination of nature and nurture, of neurological electrochemical events, perspective, and social pressure, and I recognize that my body has a physical reaction to the stuff that is often unpredictable. (Well, ironically predictable: I'll cry after a kind gesture but laugh after a horrible car wreck. Pretty much whatever is the most inappropriate and awkward.) I DO, however, believe in the concept of prosociality, which some would mistake for altruism.

Here's an interesting article on prosociality and human evolution, where the author includes altruism as a defining characteristic of human behavior. I would have to disagree, but it is an interesting read nonetheless. (Pops to a pdf: Evolution and Human Behavior 30 (2009) 190–200.)

I started thinking about this concept again after reading a short entry on primatology.net that describes a study during which chimpanzees are given a system of reward allowing for three reactions: selfish, random, and prosocial. The chimps in this study chose the so-called prosocial reward system, in which they would choose to redeem a certain color token for a treat that would be delivered equally to themselves and their adjacent cage mate, rather than a selfish system that only delivered the treat to the redeemer, or a random system in which sometimes the other guy got a piece, and sometimes they don't.

Think of it like this: if you're out to drinks or dinner with a friend, and this friend just doesn't have the money to get a round, would you rather buy a few rounds, or have the friend sit by whilst you get your chug on? The altruistic response would be that you buy rounds, or even just enough for your friend and perhaps none for yourself, because you ultimately care more about your friend than yourself. The prosocial response would be: hell yes I'll buy some rounds! Who wants to drink alone? It's more fun for the both of us, me included, if rounds are being had. Hey speaking of which: shots! This seems to be the gist of the experiment performed at Yerks. 

But what if the adjacent cage houses a stranger chimp, or even a social rival? What happens then? Is the behavior prosocial as a rule, or are there conditions? I believe that there are conditions. If you disagree, please let me know the next time your wallet is in one of my neighborhood bars, restaurants, or coffee shops, for I expect to see you purchasing the wares available for those who sit around you, just to make the experience more enjoyable to everyone, and I plan to take a seat adjacent to you. Mama loves a free lunch.

SO what? So some chimps did this, and that seems to be neat (it is very neat!), but what's prosocial behavior got to do, got to do with it? Enter the current political climate.

My theory is that there is more to prosocial behavior than a black and white set of conditions that would be measurable to any accurate degree across the world, but that these sets of conditions could (and should) be accurately measured along a bell curve in set populations. Because I believe that all living creatures are ultimately selfish, and that prosocial behaviors can exist within the envelope of selfishness, that the sets of social pressures present that encourage or dissuade prosociality can be detected, and that those behaviors that encourage prosocial engagement can be promoted directly without exact interference with individually selfish behaviors, thereby generally improving the living conditions for the whole of a community without removing the free will of the participants. Find the inherent reward in prosocial behaviors within and across communities, promote these ideas, and sit back while your community thrives. Ah yes, shared responsibility and reward of community education, healthcare, and sustainable living... sorta.

The natural and nurtured variance in our perception of emotion might be the same set of elements that would influence an individual's predilection toward prosocial behavior, and some of us are saints while some others are, well, total assholes. And some of us are in position to contribute to the community more-so, while others are left without much to give and with a burdensome need. With such a highly variable set of conditions based on individual preferences and access, there are a lot of impedances to a successful prosocial approach to human populations. 

So how do we reach this near-beer of utopia? The solutions, as I see them: end misinformation in the media and the educational system, rectify the electoral and taxation systems, dismantle the current hierarchy of political interference and the wealth-managed condition of government, promote factual and measured representations of prosocial initiatives, dilute mythological interference, and conduct meaningful two-way discussions that diffuse fear or anger as motivators. Oh, and microbrews. (It's a metaphor.)

The Toxic Baby.

enter at your own risk.

I've done a little spring cleaning, but I tried not to erase the past so much as engage in selective remembering. Some posts are deleted from the recent passing, but most remain. If you think you're interested in decoding some of them, or ingesting whatever nutrients you think you can get out of the emotional soup that remains, be my guest. But I'm hoping to take this in a new direction. Maybe it will bite me in the ass, maybe it will powder it. If you're here to pass judgement, though, I respectfully request that you withhold that sentiment for the next post instead of the last.

Creep on creepin on

omg I wish I could say what I've been up to. Holy shit. Earth shattering stuff, really. Exactly what I needed. You don't even know. You might not forgive me. Fuck you then, world. None of it matters, nothing makes sense in the end. I'll still vote the same way.

I'm moving again. Hells yeah.

someone asked me if I exercized. it was a hint.

There was a time in my life where I was unable to express emotions, when I was flat and unaffected. The truth was that I was deeply affected, and that the suppression was merely an attempt to refrain from vomiting under the pressure. I miss those days.

I am such. an emotional being anymore. I think I must range through the entire spectrum of emotion every single day of my present life. I literally fall in love frequently enough that it happens on the half year. Regardless of my relationship status. I'm a wreck. I'm thrilled. I'm concerned. I'm distracted. 

I don't remember feeling like this as a child, but maybe it's just that I don't remember much about being a child. Maybe I sill am one. 

I feel pretty adult, though, finally. I've removed myself from what could have only been certain death and placed myself quite accidentally in one of the most beautiful parts of our fair country. It's easy to lose yourself here. I can be anyone I want to be. And there are so many options. 

I can't pick, is the problem, is always the problem.

project peace

i am going to try a new strategy of living: a purposeful projection of peaceful thought and action. this process will be hard. i will resist and i will complain and i will try to pretend that i never made these plans. i will give up more possessions and i will motivate myself toward simple living and simple needs. the closer i get to needing nothing, the less i will require to find contentment. a peaceful, content person will find another peaceful content person in a sea of anxious, upset people. right now, i am anxious and upset, just one in a sea of millions. no one would ever find me this way. i'd always be lost.

on a scale from 0 to 6, i'm about a 4.

I was feeling a little overwhelmed last week, and I might be premenstrual. In any case, it doesn't negate what's been in my head. 

The funniest part, I've always thought, about these phases I go through is the change in my physical appearance. I definitely start wearing my hair differently, fish out a new wardrobe, and change my make-up routine - all of the typical "need a change" avenues. But I swear I look different head to toe. Perhaps I'm just taking a closer look at myself and noticing my age... but it seems to change with my mood, even. I can look at myself in the mirror and see an entirely different person than I saw the day before, if only I wake up on the opposite side of the bed. Further, the self I imagine when I imagine myself in the past never matches quite right with the age of the actual me at that historical moment. College Jaime shows up in a lot of places, Present-Tense Jaime is the next most popular version. Regardless of the age of my memory, Present-Tense Jaime is probably the me in my memory.

I really am having a hard time wearing clothes right now. It seems like my body really doesn't fit in my clothes the way it did in Indiana. I can't wear almost any of the clothes I wore every day there. Not that I mind the shopping. Shoes, too; it's not that I don't like the shoes I've got, it's just that suddenly they're all giving me blisters.

Astrud Gilberto and Stan Getz: THE GIRL FROM IPANEMA - 1964

I just realized that no one person knows everything about me. I've never told the whole of it to anyone; never divulged all secrets to a single soul. Just certain parts to certain people, some of it to no one who wasn't there to see it for themselves. I wonder how anyone could love me if they knew.

 

The most frustrating part is that I generally talk myself into most of it. I guess, adversely, I can talk myself out of it again, and eventually I do. But right now I'm talked in.

I think I only come here to dump things. Things I can't say to anyone, ever, that I can leave here in code. The vast expanses of the universe might guess and never know, or no one will guess and still no one will ever know. I could go my whole life without anyone knowing anything I don't want them to. I'm pretty good, I think, at leading double, triple, more lives. Of turning one on and one off. Of keeping my stories straight. He knows this much, she knows these stories. Which topics to avoid in what company, and who I can cry to about what topics. Some of these relationships have been so narrowly defined, that once that event in my life was passed, so was the associated relationship. Some relationships bring me back to places I forgot about inside myself, whether I like it - or need it - or not. 

I'll tell you this much: right now I have a score to settle. A goal in mind. I am focused and ready to act. Luckily for me, it would require a complete neglect of the laws of time and space. Luckily for me, once again, reality will thwart my evil plans, apples never to  be tasted.

Sometimes I feel like one of those monkeys that only has an alarm clock in a sock to keep her company.

AS someone who had once received Mother's Day cards, but doesn't any more - as someone who doesn't particularly get along with her mother - let me tell you that today is a very difficult day. I have quite a few phone calls to make today, and I'm looking forward to none of them. All I want today is to have someone to talk to, but not to any of the obligate phone call recipients that I have lined up. And I probably wouldn't take company from just anyone, no offense. I want someone who knows me well and gets my monkey needs. I need favorite hugs and lots of cuddling from familiar arms. I want the way you brushed my hair back and breathed into my neck, with that same familiar rhythm I once listened to with the concentration of intense teenage longing. I want to go back to a time before I couldn't trust... trust you, trust myself. Comfort, I think, was always what I was lacking. Careful swaddling and connection. Believing in the idea that I am precious and fragile in someone's heart. Unconditional love.

Unconditional love is a fallacy that we have been tricked into believing is true, or at least that's how we roll in my family. I really wish that we as a society would stop feeding our children these gross lies of good and evil, of what adult life is; these mythologies of love and guilt and salvation only set us up for monumental disappointment. Santa Claus isn't real, - no one is secretly watching you, tallying your mistakes; Jesus is historically misunderstood, Buddha left his family to pursue his ideology.  My mother doesn't acknowledge me for who I am, isn't proud of who I've become, and my grandfather doesn't talk to his son on the phone because he doesn't approve of his wife.

always look on the bright side of life

i'm not touching you i'm not touching you

All movements go too far. - Bertrand Russell.

PS

btw, fuck all this business about being happily single. i need someone touching my skin on the daily. that shit is too good to live without. fuck me.

everyday i'm hustlin

part of me really is starting to feel like an adult, starting to relax, starting to make more than ends meet. most of me wants to let go again. it's to the point that i save money solely in order to facilitate the inevitable breakdown that's coming. no, let's not call it a breakdown. call it a quarterlife crisis (you're allowed four of those, right?), call it a painful metamorphosis, call it growing pains, call it a(nother) phase. i feel poised for another adventure. this time i'm going to try to stay in control, but there's going to be times i let go just to see what happens. just to push it to the limit. one. more. time. i've been holding out, i've been testing waters. i'm a safe distance from failure, i can't possibly fuck it all up from here. but i've been talking myself out of it for so long now, that i'm over waiting. i'm into doing. i really should hold out for as long as possible. i really should hold out for as long as possible. i really should hold out for as long as possible.

Lord give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.

Sometimes I question my motive behind maintaining, intermittently, what amounts to a public diary. Shameless self-promotion? Likely. Creative outlet? Sure, if you're into immediate gratification (and who isn't?). I'm sure that a combination of curiosity, loneliness, and ego can be granted most of the credit for making the decision to create this emotional dumpster/soap box, and past that I can't really tell you. It's an interesting experience, to put myself out here, quietly, and then just sit back and see if anyone's paying attention. I wonder what someone  - a stranger, a friend - might actually learn about me from reading this, and what they'd be missing. Not to label it a worthy pursuit; it's just that when I read these entries, I have a frame of reference. Even someone close to me might not see what I'm really saying... or perhaps I'm not so subtle as I think I am. Perhaps I'm even more of a bull in a china shop than I claim to be.

master of my own domain name

it's Saturday, 11:38 AM and I've poured myself a glass of red. The label tells me this red is named The Prisoner. 

I feel like a prisoner, and I don't know why. I am the most free I've ever been. I don't have financial investments hanging over me, threatening to crush me like that house in Indiana. I don't have a partner, or even a date tonight, so I'm free to do whatever my own heart desires. I have disposable income, for maybe the first time ever. Real, disposable income. The weather is beautiful outside, and I am only 30 minutes from the Pacific Ocean, a dream come true. Yet here I am, on my couch, with a glass of wine, blogging about wanting to leave the house.

I thought that once I had sifted through what belongings I had left, when I had taken stock of all I had taken with and all I had left behind, that this internal prison would open it's doors and take off my mental shackles. I'm close to that goal, and could have even reached it by now. Instead, I have a pile of papers and photographs on my living room floor waiting to be sorted. They have been there, waiting patiently, for two weeks. Untouched. It's easily only an evening's worth of work. So long as it sits there, I have a reason to sit here. I'm not saying I have an excuse, I'm just saying I have a reason.

I don't know what I'm waiting for. I have so many things I want to do, and I want to find someone to share my freedom with, but I won't leave the apartment unless I have to. I won't even go buy patio furniture from the thrift so that I could at least enjoy the sunshine on my balcony. I sit here, 20 feet from sunshine, refusing to enjoy it. I don't know why.

It's not really the type of feeling you think of when you think of fear. My heart doesn't race, I don't start to sweat or breath heavy. I just get... tired. I think of leaving and sitting on the beach, but I pull up a pillow and a blanket instead. The beach doesn't even take much energy! I just have to go and sit there. Instead I sit here. I watch hours of TV, even though I'm really not interested in it. I am making progress, I think; my living list of to-dos has gotten smaller, which is more relief than most could imagine, but I still spend my time mentally recycling the mistakes of my past, as far back as Hazel Crest. Reduce, reuse, recycle... I'm often accused of being unaffected, of taking my transgressions too lightly. If they only knew. I guess my mental anguish doesn't register on my face anymore. I guess these days it just looks like I want attention. Maybe I do.

The very few people who were able to gain entrance to my home in Valparaiso knew that I was often dangerously close to hoarding at times. What they didn't see was me, unbathed, unfed, for days at a time, out of something that I can only call malaise. So many days have been spent in the same pajamas, drinking coffee out of the same mug, that I just can't even begin to catalog the effects. The smells. The mental capacity whittled away. The missed calls, the avoided social situations. The unknown opportunities missed by simply refusing to leave the house. The family ties untied.

I can come up with a laundry list of possible injuries that could have caused my distress, but the fact is that my childhood was nearly normal. I could have had a better relationship with my mother, could have stood to have felt a little trusted. I could have spent more time with my father, could have stood to have seen him happy more often instead of angry or stressed.  Ultimately, though, this is my defect, not theirs. They did the best they knew how, I guess, and I just came out this way. I can remember feeling deep and living inside my own head at a very young age. I can remember worry, and I don't think that there was much that anyone could have done to change me either way.

*

I was dissatisfied with the way that this ended previously. The great thing about a blog is that, unlike real life, when you say something stupid, often times you can just go back and delete it. Theoretically. 

Good Fortune.

In 6 days, I set sail for the West Coast. Not quite the destination I had hoped for, but still not here. Still not NW Indiana.  Hopefully, Oregon is still in my future.

LA is going to be a precious experience, I can feel it. I'm terrified, but I'm open. I'm ready for this, I think, or at least as ready as I'll ever be. I should take advantage of my awesome opportunity to do something I would never otherwise be able to willing to do, and I should take the advantages that I have earned and that have been given to me to do something memorable.

I've been railing a lot lately against wealth and politics, and I feel like I should take a moment to acknowledge my own wealth and fortune, and to pay homage to my privilege.

I have, without a doubt, an amazing set of circumstances and a helluva good group of friends and adopted family. I am lucky and I am loved.

I have a great job, with great benefits and excellent experiences. I often feel like an imbecile, and I know I am unworthy. How I landed this gig is a real mystery to me. I'm completely unworthy of it, even when I have a corporate chip on my shoulder. The American Dream is becoming financially and socially free. I have achieved a good part of this dream; I bought my first house on my own at the age of 24. I've lived in 3 states and counting because of the opportunities that my company has provided me. I'm on my way to the West Coast, a dream come true in some ways, and a liberation I couldn't afford on my own.

I am more loved now that I have ever been loved, and distance will not make these people stop loving me. I will not be out-of-sight, out-of-mind. These friends will be in my heart, and I in theirs, no mater where I live or how long I am away. Even better, I'm beginning to understand why.

I live in an amazing country. I really, really love the United States, and my anger comes out of sadness and fear that the concept that I love might be stolen away. I do not want to lose what has given me so much, and I want more than anything for everyone to have the same opportunities that I have had. I owe my success to good education, quality health care, and social freedoms. I sincerely hope we can hang on to these rights, these basic human needs, and that we can progress.

19 days and counting.

I'm moving again. This time to Oregon.

Something is missing

I know what it is, too. I can't have it even though I want it badly.

Walking out of the sky

On May 15th I boarded a plane that would eventually take me to Cali, Colombia for a working mission. We were to aid children with severe spinal deformities in a country that couldn't from a country that could. To say that it was hard and rewarding is a set of understatements. The task alone was an enormous one, the physical, emotional, and mental labor of it more than I could have prepared for. It set me off on a journey of rediscovery, showing me plainly where I was failing myself along the way. My deeds were great but my flaws were loud and I could not ignore them, and I returned home feeling small and obnoxious - I was a social mosquito. Not only that, but suddenly my life felt undeserving and without purpose. Here I had participated in this great thing, this life changing thing - not only for myself and the group that I traveled with, but for the children we helped and their families - and all I could think about was how meaningless everything was, how useless every other day would be in the world. For days I stayed in bed, worked as little as possible, and studied even less. My goals seemed worthless, and I had recognized myself as a nuisance.

I began to come back to life, and it was easy to ignore myself again. I rationalized bad behavior and forgot all those years that lead me to the practice of letting anger fall away unfelt. Anger started to consume me, and the events over the following weeks would leave me feeling bitter and ready to lash out. I acted a fool, I was loud and I brought people around me down in my anger. I committed great sins, and great sins were committed against me. Perhaps I needed the world to recognize me so that I could, too. Perhaps I was just trying to reestablish my place. I certainly questioned myself and all that I had stood for. I rethought who I was entirely - which would have been a great idea if I hadn't been so angry underneath. I knew I needed to reevaluate, but my emotional unrest inhibited my advancement.

In this vein, I took a cross-country road trip, from Chicago west through Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, to California, from LA up the coast to Santa Cruz via Route 1. I saw scenery that made me want to get married, it moved me so much. I took in parts of the country that made me realize where I wanted to go and where I wanted to end up. Even still, I enjoyed it less than I could have - though I enjoyed it more than I can express - because under my joy there was that anger. I felt alone while in a car packed to the brim and with two other women. I did and said things that would separate myself unintentionally. We are all with our flaws all the time, but I can only control my own. And I know from experience that I can control my own.

I flew half way across the Pacific to an island paradise, met amazing people, and had an amazing adventure. I jumped into a waterfall pool despite being a bad swimmer. I went on a mountain hike despite being a novice hiker. I body surfed and got tossed by waves my body certainly couldn't compete with. I left exhausted and overwhelmed. I came home and didn't sleep.

I came home and didn't sleep.

I didn't sleep for days. I didn't sleep for more than a few cat naps here and there from July 5th @ 2:30 PM HADT to July 10th @ 6:30 PM CST.

July 10th put me to sleep. The night before I was able to get a few hours in, but spent most of the night awake in anticipation. Tomorrow, I thought, it could all change. Tomorrow will change me. And it did. I jumped out of a plane, but only after watching three good friends jump out before me, each absorbed into the atmosphere sharply before my eyes. Each time I thought "Oh my god, he's gone!" and I even reached out after one. My heart raced as I put my knees out at the edge of the plane door and barely heard my tandem partner yell "Arch!" as he popped us out together from the plane, no longer a hanging chad but a fully counted vote. My first thought was that there was no turning back: I really thought to myself " I can't change my mind now!" as if there was some sort of decision I still had to make. I focused on breathing and simply staying alive for a while, and then I began to look around.

I was so small! I was flying! It was more like falling in reality, but the odd thing was that for a long time, nothing seemed to be getting any closer. 13,000 feet in the air, I was just a speck and the world wasn't changing according to my perspective. It was quietly down below, still, perhaps waiting for my return, perhaps going on without even noticing. But I noticed.

When we walked up to the dive site outside of Ottowa, IL, we were greeted by a sudden swarm of people falling out of the sky. Suddenly a dozen jumpers appeared above us, carried by colorful nylon lifesavers, and they swooped in swiftly where once there was no one at all. We stopped and watched and knew that soon we would be among such a group, but couldn't imagine quite yet how it would happen.

I wondered what I would think about on the way down, and I tried to consider it before hand. I'm glad I wasn't able to pin it down, though, because what I ended up thinking about was the moment at hand. I did not contemplate my future, I did not reevaluate my life. I didn't make any plans or decisions while I was falling from the sky, I only focused on the now and the now was staying conscious. I opened the chute myself, as per the instructions of our tandem jumpers, and I was glad that I did. Having control of stopping the free fall and giving myself the gift of a gentle descent was a moment I will never forget. And then I just looked around. I realized I was still closer to the clouds than the earth, and that was just fine. I wanted to float for much longer than we were able, but I realized when we hit the ground gently that we floated for just the right amount of time. And we did hit the ground gently... we landed standing up and walked right out from the fall. Floating toward the Earth at less than the 120 ft/sec that we had been careening at just moments before, I could have reconsidered my life all together. Instead, I enjoyed the scenery and did a few roller-coaster twirls through the air. I thought about nothing other than how beautiful everything was. The world is beautiful, and as many times as I had seen it from above through the glass window of a jet, a thin pare of goggles allowed for a much clearer view. The world is beautiful, I thought; everything is so beautiful.

I landed and felt quiet. I landed and felt almost all of it internally. I hugged my friends, I thanked my amazing tandem partner, and I realized quite quickly that I had made quite a few decisions on my way down without even thinking about them at all. Nothing required careful consideration, my needs were obvious and my decisions were made. Mistakes were forgiven, both of myself and of others. New paths were forged and I felt as if I was walking down them already, as easily as walking out of the sky had been.

I'm still walking out of the sky. I can't really put into words the last 2 months of my life, and these are only a select few of the highlights. So much more happened than I can explain, and I have seen more than I have ever seen in my life. I have plans that I feared while making but have no fear of now. I have intentions that I have let go of, having realized what I could obtain isn't always what I should obtain. Relationships have been solidified, friendships sealed forever, sins have been forgiven, memories that I will never forget etched in my brain more beautifully than the photographs I snapped.

welcome!

www.nataliedee.com

true story.

"Truth is what stands the test of experience."
-Albert Einstein

Dear Curvy Dream Girl,

I thought you would be here by now; there must have been some miscommunication. It's OK, though - I'm always late. So that's fair. But I am getting a little impatient, I think, and that is pretty uncharacteristic of me. I've been taking it out on other folks. I can't help it! I'm frustrated that you've stayed away so long. Thirty years is a long time to wait. There were a few times when I mistook someone else for you, and a few times I was just bored of waiting. Don't be mad, it seems I needed the practice. I'll tell you all about it someday.

I know that your trains never run on time, so asking for an ETA might be a stretch. Please make sure that while you're out, you pick up a lust for science and an easy disposition. I've been busy cleaning the House out in anticipation, and in all honesty it's a good thing you're late! Cleaning takes me forever. I am so easily distracted. But I've gotten rid of tons of baggage, and even though there are a seemingly infinite number of rooms in this House, I think most of it should be gone by the time you get here. You know me, though, I can never finish a project. So, I'm sure there will be a little left when you get here. But please don't let it distract you! I promise I'll keep cleaning. Even if it's inconvenient, you'll always be welcome at my House.

Yours.

jaimes.reality

I don't know what it's for.

I don't know what it's for. I don't understand this drive. I don't see what moves me exactly. Am I selfish? More than I know? Are there genes to pass on? Am I defective? Have we reached a point yet where we share so much that the survival of the species would increase my fitness regardless? Is Altruism real? Are we doomed?

here kitty, kitty

"Curiosity killed the cat, but for a while I was a suspect."
-Steven Wright

This was an actual response...

...to the question: What exactly you do you oppose in the [2010 healthcare] bill as it passed that doesn't have to do with the perceived change in the lining of your wallet? 

"Money is the root of all good. It is what you get in return for the value of what you can provide people. Taking the money out of my pocket is taking the very essence of my life, asking me to live and produce for some wretched mediocrity i.e turning me into a slave. Money isn't a side issue, it is the issue. Scarce resources can't be given out to everyone precisely because they are scarce; money is the tool that can provide you with these resources---through trade. When I exchange money for health care, I am recognizing the value in something someone is providing me by exchanging the symbol of my own value. When someone purchases health care through subsidy, they are trading on my value--it isn't theirs to trade. There is no higher symbol of morality than the dollar sign, no cross, no star, no crescent, no hammer and sickle, no statue of a Buddha, and no symbol of any other god, spirit, or movement has ever been as wholly sacred as $."

barf.

personal savings

"I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around [the banks] will deprive the people of all property until their children wake-up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered. The issuing power should be taken from the banks and restored to the people, to whom it properly belongs." - Thomas Jefferson

Spring

Oh Spring, thank God you're back. I was beginning to believe that I would die alone in my home in a state of endless winter. Suddenly, the world feels reborn. This is almost as good as when I was 15 and was born again at church. Everything suddenly feels new again, and I feel emotionally relieved of my burden.

it"s not fair

it's not fair.

,

For someone who is, so judgmental, and so outspoken, about everything, all the time, and can never just cut me, or anyone else, a little slack, your complete inability, to utilize the simple comma is both infuriating, and hilarious.

I'm investing in a copy of the DSM

81 Words. listen to the full episode.

blame

I don't blame anyone else for any part of my life. I would likely be exactly the same person I am now with out without the influence of anyone else in my life, with some small differences. Of course, people touch and affect our lives in positive and negative ways, but these are experiences that are perceived and reacted to by individuals in unique and individual ways. I react to someone else's actions in the way that I do because I am who I am, not because so-and-so has made it that way.

I do, however, call a duck a duck and if you've been a genuine pal or have inflicted major suckage on my life, it's your fault for being awesome or a total douche, respectively.

No one has so much power on my life to affect it so drastically either way unless I allow it. I even held this power over myself as a child, even though I may not have realized it until recently. The lovely thing is that I am able to allow people to affect my life if I want to. Which means that my life is about to get exponentially awesome.

the only problem is i'm losing my mind

"Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time."

-Thomas Merton (1915 - 1968), 'No Man Is an Island'

Weather or not

I need warm weather: stat. My warm-weather shoes are way cuter than my cold-weather shoes.

Fuck yes mother fuckers.

want.

Temptation

I'm constantly being bombarded with emails encouraging me to find my Match through this or that website, commercials of couples casually engaging in light PDA to cheerful music, and facebook links to that will help me meet that certain someone special. With just a click of the mouse key I can be connected to lesbian singles in my area! It's so easy! They are all there... beautiful lesbian singles only a free trial away. I can even send them emails for just a small commitment fee. It's even guaranteed. 

Except I'm pretty content being single right now. Sure, if the right girl fell in my lap, I'd take the bait. Who wouldn't? But jesus, do I have to be so constantly proactive about it? Can't a girl just spend a little time catching up on episodes of Cheaters and Bones? I have homework, I don't have time to participate in the local speed dating scheme or the lesbian wine tasting meet-up. Why is it so important for me to be paired off? 

What's wrong with me just being, well, me?

I understand the temptation. I'll admit I've browsed a few singles sites over the last few weeks. And there are certainly some beautiful and perhaps too-honest lesbian singles out there, waiting to be matched. And it sure would be nice to have a heads up about all of their interests, hobbies, favorite books, and turn-ons. But honestly, I'd like a little time to get back into my own interests, hobbies, favorite books, and turn-ons. I'd like to shamelessly surf facebook for a few pointless hours at a time and take an afternoon nap, maybe wake up late on a weekday that I don't have to work early, stay up until 3 AM for no particular reason other than that's when I get my homework done easily since there aren't as many distractions, and maybe smell my armpits on occasion without someone passing judgement. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, I'll meet that local lesbian single in the sunglass isle at Target. Or not. Whatever.

Three Guesses

What misrepresents the origins of humankind and the cosmos, demands unreasonable suppression of human nature, inclines people to violence and blind submission to authority, and is hostile to free inquiry?

Who wants to throw the first stone?

science!

oh man i fuckin looooooove me some science! going back to school was the best decision i ever made. pro-tip: get your master's degree. to not pass go, do not pay attn to grammar. go directly to science.

Leave the speck in my eye where it is, please.

I read an article today concerning the life of the son of the man who became famous for his "Chicken Soup for the Soul" series of self-help and motivational books. You know the ones. Frankly, I have always detested them. Sure, they make decent bathroom literature, and my mother had a few of them in the downstairs loo. Stories of triumph and breakthrough in tough times. Examples of Everyman beating the odds. You can beat the odds, too, they implored. Let me show you how.

I know so many who find these books inspirational and uplifting. Ugh. That word. "Uplifting." Christ. 

The falsehood is that the guru helped anyone at all with the Chicken Soup books. Those who bond with those stories need to fill some emotional hole and would have found something to fill it regardless of the book. Perhaps the choices those individuals would have made to fill that hole would have been other books. Perhaps they would have found comfort in conversations had with loved ones or clergy, perhaps in the arms of a support group or a lover. I am willing to bet, though, that none of those folks would would be saved from some ill fate if not for the blessing of the Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies. None of them were saved from cancer or elevated from drug abuse. Not even his son.

What's fascinating about the Chicken Soup guru is that his son is a fuck up. A disaster. He's a heroin addict and an angry noise musician heading a band called Child Abuse. Heh. If that doesn't tell you something...

And so I see to a lesser extent this scenario mirrored in a different set of lives. Perhaps the son of the guru I know isn't a fuck up at all. Perhaps the son is actually doing fairly well, with the normal range of past transgressions and mischief. Perhaps the guru in this version hadn't left a budding family to run of with a masseuse. But believe you me, there was abandonment and denial. There was a disconnect.

In this lighter version of the story, the guru is as oblivious as Mr. Soup must have been. So caught up in deep breathing exercises and pretending to practice yoga that guru-light is convinced that the son is rouge and solely at fault for the disconnect. And so like Mr. Soup, this guru is convinced that they have unlocked some secret meaning to life and wants to share it with the world. And like all false-prophets before, this guru is delusional and unwilling to face the facts of the life being lived, unwilling and seemingly unable to recognize the loathing that has accompanied the disconnect caused by hypocrisy and abandonment. The son reached out a few times, a few times taunted and a few times tricked to come closer. The son tried to trust, but was always turned away. Forgive the son, please, for ending the charade. 

So, to all of you budding self-helpers, motivational speakers, and destiny diviners: you may be able to convince a few that you possess some deeper insight. You may be able to utilize hypothetical questioning and circular reasoning to give the illusion of wisdom. But that's what it is. It's an illusion. You're less wise than most, and more full of shit. Clean your own house before you try to clean mine.

I'm rather fond of the mess I've made, anyway.

sweet'n low

Something lovely happened this weekend. This weekend, I realized just how much more my friends love me than I thought, and how deeply they have loved me all along.

I found that my friends think I'm smart. Really smart. In fact, in defense of a statement that came to be under debate whilst taking in a few brews, it was said that it must be true simply because I believed it. My reporting the statement was proof enough for them that it must be true. They think I'm smart, and they trust me.

I found that they think I am attractive. Sexy, even. Not only do my friends find me attractive, but they have ALL ALONG. Some of them are even attracted to me! I always thought that I was average, and saying so was met with a chorus of disagreement. What? Really? Are they looking at ME? Yes! My friends think I'm hot!!

I found that they miss me when I'm not around. I'm funny and fun to be around! A few who haven't seen me in years genuinely missed me and want to ensure that I am furthermore a part of their lives. I was loved and missed all this time.

I wonder if I had known - if I realized that others found me smart, attractive, and funny, that they missed me when I wasn't around - if I would have been someone else entirely in the long run. So much of who I am is shaped by the fact that I had such a low image of myself for so long. So much has been about overcoming those obstacles, loving myself despite my perceived shortcomings.

Now, I find that I am so many of those things I saw in others that I wished I could be. I am interesting and funny and smart and attractive and genuinely worthy of love and adoration. Mind you, no more than anyone else. But finally I realize that I am, in the least, equal, and that I have been all along.

indeed.

www.nataliedee.com

powerful.

"The thing women have yet to learn is nobody gives you power. You just take it."

-Roseanne Barr

Town Hall Meeting

I'm watching CNN, the President is speaking and I need an excuse to not work on school work or watch EMG remotely until my eyes bleed.

The President is a celebrity. We need that, and I don't know why the right doesn't realize that. Can't we all just unite and get through this monster together? Let's really lay blame where the blame is due... can you imagine what would happen if those in the know just told us, honestly, what they know? What the fuck is the problem? MILLIONS of people are suffering... and I extend our suffering here in the States to the world via economic downfall globally, wars waged based on the current economic issues, and suffering at the hands of nature that we might more easily aid if we weren't so afraid ourselves.

alright. no more disconnected political rants without proper forethought.

excuse my typing.

i stabbed myself today. on accident, obviously. imagine the old fashioned orange juice cans, and the little triangle hole-poker can opener thingies that opened a pourable hole in the top? now imagine doing that to your hand with a chef's knife.

needless to say, i needed stitches.

the crazy thing is that i was terrified. i squirmed and fused and cried like a baby. you'd think i had no tolerance for pain.

i considered not going. this is a gruesome wound. it hurt a lot, i'm not going to lie.

and it's not the pain of the stitches (i needed 5) or the shots of novocaine stuck directly into the wound (three of them) that i was afraid of. it was, simply, the doctor.

i'm covered in ink, so it's not a needle stick i'm afraid of, really. the pain of the shots was intense, but not something i can't handle. though there is something to be said about already being in pain and having more pain inflicted. the result is greater than the sum of the parts.

i don't really know why i'm so afraid of going to the doctor. i hate it, and it makes me cry. i don't know why.

after the stitches:

I'm with CoCo.

d

"All I ask is one thing: please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism, for the record it's my least favorite quality, it doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard, and you're kind, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you, amazing things will happen."

Oh CoCo. This is why your fans love you so. You are the funny voice of reason. You're kind and gracious, even when you're losing something you love and worked hard for and deserved. You inspired rallies of double duty: fan support for the funny man of the younger half plus charity to a nation in shambles; Haitian relief was collected at the I'm With CoCO rallies held in a few cities across the nation. What an awesome tribute.

Can't wait to see what you'll do next, I've been a fan of your work since before I knew you were behind it, and a big fan of your own stand up and commentary. I'm with CoCo.

i'm famous!

www.nataliedee.com

everyone knows

Here's an annoying trend: when I am introduced by friends to new people, it is often followed by: "She's a lesbian."

Which is weird to me. I wouldn't introduce people like that. Maybe it's because most of my friends are straight. I can't tell if the introduction is based on pride or prejudice sometimes. I don't think anyone means any harm, but it even happens at work. It's not that I'm ashamed; it's not that at all. I don't care who knows. But it's just a part of me, regardless of how often it comes up as a topic on my blog.

This is a blog. It is not real life.

"This is Roger. He's African American."

"This is Sue, she's Episcopalian."

I admit that I need to forge a group of friends who are like minded, if only to keep me from going insane. But my sexuality doesn't have to be the focus of my life.

That's why I don't understand why I don't have all the same civil liberties as anyone else... make that anyheterone else... I'm just like you, only different.

Happy Birthday, MLK Jr.

We can change. This nation has changed, we are not done. We can not stop.

ugh

why are lesbians so saturated with emotion and indignation all the time? chill!

true story.

"The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself."
-Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)

Look at me

I'm an independent woman!

i also wear layers

www.toothpastefordinner.com

disclaimer

I address the collective you, cyber-stalkers. The collective you.

complete and utter chaos

It is so sad to think that A) talking heads like Rush and Rev. Robertson have a large enough audience and impact to use an occasion such as this to offend an entire nation, dare the world, and B) it took the deaths of no less than 50,000 already poor and suffering people, maybe as much as 10 times that, along with the complete devastation of a nation already the poorest in the Western Hemisphere for some one to actually have said this. THIS should have been out of the way long ago. We should already be past their freak show of bigotry and self-interest.

Hey.

It was my birthday. I turned 30.

I actually had a really great birthday. This one special lady made quite a fuss about me, and it was really sweet. I had a great day, despite having the tail end of a flu. I was the best birthday I can remember. :)

heh.

wait, what?

who wants to know?

There's a lot in my head, I know it's in there: I can feel it. But lately it just won't come out. I am blank. I don't know what to say. Ever. It's as if there is something hanging just out of reach... thoughts and feelings just barely touching my fingertips only when I really strain... when I really reach... I am only floating through, weightless, unable to direct my reach definitively toward productive thought. Has anyone noticed? Is there anyone who really wants to know, anyway?

Denver

Next time I come to Denver, I'm bringing an extra suitcase. Seriously. The thrifts here are amazing, and how come I can't find good used furniture like this at home?

Books I want

click it or ticket

woops.

click it or ticket

With age comes understanding

As I near 30, I realize that a saying I've heard before may hold some truth, but from an angle I hadn't before considered (therein lying the truth of the quote): with age comes understanding.

I don't know where I've heard it or who's responsible, and I don't know if the intention was placed where I'm finding it. It's true tho, with age comes understanding.

It's not that I necessarily understand the world more; in fact, I often find the world more perplexing than I used to. Youth gave me a sense of certainty. Another saying, from Winston Churchill, "if you're not a liberal at twenty you have no heart, if you're not a conservative at forty you have no brain,” is one that I have always wondered whether true, even when it was said against me. I think it is somewhat true only in that we realize the limitations of our ideals in reality. I guess that measures understanding.

But the understanding I think comes with age isn't a political one (if that were true, we would live in a much different place, for political understanding seems to fade with age in this country far too often); I think that the understanding is the realization that we are not alone.

"Not alone" as in there are others out there who reflect myself, not as in aliens 'n shit (that's a whole separate debate). Recently, I have come across examples of women who have had similar experiences, have felt similarly to my own emotions, and who have come to similar conclusions. This quest to be understood may never come to an end, but at least I see I have some kindred spirits crossing my path. It's comforting and reassuring. I'm not crazy. I'm not even creating my own path; this one may be overgrown, but it is not forgotten.

The implications are immense: I don't have time to go into it now. But let's just say that the basic ideas of life are not an infinite catalog. Rather, there is a general guideline that we all seem to follow like fashion; perhaps my size or shape or color are different, but the pattern is the same. We are cut of the same cloth, we are sewn similarly.

Wow! Coincidences!

This one-woman show mimics my own experience.

Something that I don't have to fight for

entomophilia. them critters are something else.

I vote aye.

If you don't understand after watching this clip, then you will never, ever understand.


If you want to read the article that this link was attached to, it's worth the moment to click the link. It also makes it very easy to pass on to friends and family via email, which I highly encourage, regardless of whether or not you think a vote on marriage issues is coming up in your state. The stronger the convictions of those who vote, the stronger the vote. Civil rights should never be up for political debate.

Another one just like me.

This makes me crazy happy. Not because we have "one more for the Team," but because she made this statement despite the fact that she is generally a private person. Simply, she realizes the importance of it, and the affect on our political landscape. I love her. She is just like me.

The end of the interview really brings it home: to those who ever really cared abut her before you knew she was gay: she's exactly the same person, so you'll still care about her now. Which is exactly why there are folks who were on their way out of my life even before I came out. Relationships already strained were stretched too thin and tore apart when I came out, and the dividing line between those who loved me and those who never really did was made clear with exacto precision.

Why would being gay change the way someone feels about me? The answer, after much soul searching, is that it doesn't. Not even a little. Those who felt the need to let me go from their lives are those who were not satisfied with me anyway. Perhaps the subject injected a little jealousy into the relationship: I was doing what they couldn't - whether it be that those suffering from envy were in the closet themselves, or just wanted to have the courage to make a life change and couldn't for whatever reason. Perhaps for some it was resentment: I am out and I am successful. It flies in the face of those who feel that homosexuality is an issue of morality, and that you can judge a tree by it's fruit. The tree of my life has been generously fruitful. My living a life that defies a certain set of superstitions might be too much for the self-righteous to handle. It's not I who has made them uncomfortable; it is the failing of their own beliefs. Some may have been looking for an excuse. There are relationships that should have held together based on societal norms that were not going well, and so my coming out may have been just the conservative excuse needed to let go of what was destined to fail eventually, anyway. And of course, let's not forget good old fashioned bigotry. Those who have hate in their heart, hate indiscriminately.

In any case, Meredith's story has some perfect timing for me; just before her coming out, I was pondering the implications of my own. It was a relief, and a much needed reaffirmation of self.

And, of course, I had a huge crush on her TV daughter, Mallory. Duh.

NTTAWWT

I was wondering to my self why I feel the need to tell people that I'm gay.

Here's what I came up with: the only people I tell are people I'm close to. Everyone else who knows, knows because someone else told them. It gets pointed out. A lot. In fact, I'm outed in almost every single situation in which I am meeting someone knew. Someone always points it out. I'm sure, out of pride, or because I'm me and we all know I do fit quite nicely in the butt of the joke. (A point of pride there for myself, I must say.)

On top of that, I make it known because if I don't stand up, who will? It's only those of us who stand up that make change. If the validity of my existence wasn't up for debate, if it wasn't a subject winning and loosing Presidential Elections (dang, you know), if everyone was just everyone and we all got along, well then hell, baby, you know I could just chill.

But that's not this place; that is not where we live. So, while I would rather just roll along my own path, and let you roll along yours, I'm going to have to keep on with this good fight until you just give up and roll away.

c'est la vie.

I can not control reactions to my actions.
I will not always be understood.
There may not always be an explanation.
I will strive for full disclosure whenever able, but I will know when to keep a little something to myself.
Honesty will be my best policy.
I will keep your secrets if you ask me to.
There is not always a clear line between right and wrong.
I will try not to play defense.
I will be patient and understanding.
I will be hopeful but realistic.
I will try to please everyone, because it is my ideal, but I will not hold myself at gunpoint if I fail to accomplish the impossible.
I will keep an open mind and a guarded heart, though I promise to let the centurions rest.
I will try to improve myself and my memory.
I will love for the sake of loving.