Self-Malevolence

There are times, some dark moments,

When I cannot tolerate me.

I long to howl,

Wail,

Until the force of the sound

Shreds me into a million pieces.

I rail against myself.

Fuming and burning at all that should have been.

All that is not.

Desiring to plunge a fist into my chest,

Liberating my beating heart from its cage.

Observing its agony for a brief second,

Then, crushing it, watching the blood drip

And pool about my feet.

Maybe then I would not feel this anymore.

This emotional chaos.

I am the sum of all the fears

Fed to me in my lifetime.

A steady diet of ‘You can't.’

Until, with absolute certainty,

I knew that I couldn't.

And now I see that I should have.

I could have.

But exactly how, at this point,

Do I learn to live?

And so I wallow.

Stuck in a quicksand that has consumed,

Swallowed, my life.

Sucking down, deeper

Until just fingertips break the surface now,

Straining,

Trying to keep a grip on my sanity.

Neptune

Everyone stays in the shallows,

Where the wavelets break gently around ankles.

Or maybe, some might dare to go

Deep enough to feel just the slightest hint of the

Energy held within the murky depths –

But only so far – so as to not suffer any serious damage.

Just a small mark that quickly disappears

Having hardly been noticed at all.

Never venture forth beyond the breakers,

The current is swift and dangerous there.

What really lives there?

No one wants to know that those waters might contain

An ugliness, unbearable to view.

Something cold and hard

And not at all smooth.

A cacophony of sensations,

Are trapped deep in this ocean

A feeling nearly indescribable,

Except as powerful,

With deadly sharp debris.
Frightening whitecaps,

Each one fighting to come to shore and expose

The true nature of the beasts within.
Having been held back, in spite of their violence,
For time and memorial by a chemical bulkhead.

Protecting the delicate shoreline all around.

Like the vampire not invited in,

This surge is not invited out.

Releasing the force contained within this rolling sea

Would bring a destruction of all held onto as safe and true.

Especially crushing to those lurking on the edges

Behind smiling façades for so many years.

Feigning acceptance of that which they do not comprehend.

Loving only the simple calm lapping of rippling water,

Blind to the potential annihilation.

Their devastation would be complete. 

Hot Pink Wedge of Death

Bathroom before bed and what do my poor tired eyes behold?

SPIDER!!!!!

Black, nickel sized and FAST!!

I tried sneaking up on it.  It moved at the freaking speed of light.  If it stayed still I might have tried to save it.  Put it outside.  But the movement, that was definitely an act of war.  So I accepted the challenge.

My body involuntarily began to River Dance and funny, squeaky noises came from my mouth.

Then I became still but for the flash of my arm bringing down the ‘Hot Pink Wedge of Death’ upon the creepy little thing.

Why do I break into River Dance before arachnicide?  And the squeaky noise?  What is up with that?

Not very stealthy – but weirdly effective.

Rest in peace my worthy adversary – you tried – but I have thumbs.

And hot pink wedges.

P.S. – Sorry.  I know spiders are good but they scare the shit out of me. :s

The Good Girl

Maybe I was meant to cry easily.

This was intended when I was designed,

To expose my heart for all to see.

But I had to be fixed, 

The masses said I was broken

Chipped and cracked,

In need of a repair.

It was necessary if I didn’t want to fail.

Change the décor.

Better drop something inside too,

‘What’s wrong with you?’ 

Don’t let an emotion through!  

Altering my brain to create a veneer,

More palatable to the world at large,

Than the substrate underneath.

Through chemistry and masonry

I’ve nurtured a façade

For the comfort of others.

Now I don’t know who I am

What have I done?

Only what I was told

Tried to be easy and tried to be fun

Followed the rules, towed the line.

Apparently all too well.  

Another inquiry has come.

With a hint of bewilderment as to how

The damage is still there:

‘Why don’t you care?’

The Importance of Subterfuge

Always pushing down a black terror.

Cramming it back in,

Stuffing it into its cage.

Every. Single. Day.

Wake up and shove it down.

Cover it up.

Dress it up.

Pretend I don’t know its name.

Shhh…

I think I know, but I won’t say,

Because everyone would hear.

I can’t have that.

They don’t want that.

Can’t have it out there,

It has been loose before.

There were consequences.

It cost too much. 

What Someone Made Me See

She leaned back against cool tile,
The contrast with the warm water not unpleasant.
Her arm still extended from a recently completed stretch.
She can feel each bubble dancing on her delicate skin,
Soothing the days tensions.
She lifts her eyes,
Focusing on a normally unseen blemish in the ceiling,
A tiny thing really,
And she wonders...

The Process

I am disturbed, there is a cacophony within my head,

Beating against my skull, thrumming relentlessly,

Every waking moment.

I exist within an opaque, white mist, a constantly humming void.

(The only color to be found is in my dreams.) 

And I cannot capture it, a colorless humming bird, so tiny and fast.

Can anyone see my soul? 

Suspended in the very center of this vast, bleak, world of my creation.

Tightly bound by tentacles only I see, created by the noise rattling around me.

The sounds only I can hear and struggle to explain, to share and explain.

If I could just define what is deep inside, underneath.

Breathing is an epic battle and escape impossible

Like the ivy planted for appearance outside a home,

The vines of my thoughts become instruments of my torment.

They are pervasive and all consuming,

Growing wildly – outward and in at once,

Burrowing into every crevice.

Strangling and fracturing the infrastructure of my very foundation

Squeezing every drop of blood from my heart.

Draining every last tear from my eyes.

Vile, hateful, razor sharp taunts against my substance.

Bitterly, I acknowledge that they are born of my very nature.

I cannot break away, this is integral to my person.

So I am choked and compressed into a piece of black carbon

Into a smooth, solid black, inexplicable agony

Until the noise finally explodes from me

Breaking me into infinitesimal fragments,

For all to view.

Like so much dust, I am swept away.

Size WHAT? God, I'm STILL bothered by this... (Some Profanity - not too bad just letting you know)

I saw an article the other day headlined: “Tim Gunn wants size 12-plus models for whole season of Project Runway”   Cool, right?   Except when I first saw the headline all my insecurities bubbled up to the surface.  All the fears about size and acceptance that I harbor.  I believe the phrase “12-plus” is intentionally ambiguous in that headline to get people to read it.  In my opinion it can mean ‘Models who are plus size, 12 of them’ or ‘Models who are size 12 and larger’.   Which is it?   Further, is size 12 the new low end for fat clothes?  My head was spinning.  Fortunately, when you read the article you understand that it is the later interpretation and that Tim Gunn is NOT implying that size 12 is fat or unacceptable.  Mr. Gunn is expressing concern about women who are underserved by the fashion industry, such as the very petite and those who are larger than size 12.  I think I love Tim Gunn. 

But I absolutely continued down that horrible path that the voices in my head send me on sometimes and I wondered whether size 12 was the new threshold for ‘fat’.  Where does ‘plus size’ begin these days?   I’m sort of sad that size 12 might be the end of ‘normal’, ‘acceptable’ or even ‘good enough’ these days.  I’m really sad that size 14 is where ‘plus size’ starts now.   Size 14 has always been my goal – and size 12 has always been my dream.  I am forever trying and failing to attain these sizes so that I will feel ‘good enough’. 

I have been over-weight my whole life.  I remember vividly being taunted by a family member:

 ‘Fatty Fatty two by four, can’t fit through the bathroom door.’  I was six.  Really, no shit, that happened.  I remember another family member talking about me like I wasn’t there – about ‘It’s such a shame that she is so fat.’  Honestly, I was bullied about my weight by family more than peers.  I know that it was in the name of trying to get me to do something about it – but it still sucks.

I always thought of size 14 as ‘normal’ or ‘acceptable’, ‘perfect’ even (which is also sad because, you know, what does that mean?), for someone of my height.   And size 14, or 13/14 for teens, was not the largest size in the ‘regular’ departments back when I was a kid.  The largest size was 15/16, in certain stores or 13/14 in specialty stores geared to just teens, like The Deb Shop.  If you were bigger than 15/16 you were screwed as a teen.  You had to shop in the women’s department.  The women’s department, where polyester reigned supreme and your grandmother shopped.  If you were from an upper middle class family you were able to shop at Macys and the like for better quality polyester, but if not, it was K-Mart or Bradlees.  Either way you were thirteen looking like a thirty year old secretary while everyone else looked like they walked out of a Seventeen photo shoot.  (Probably not really, but in my mind absolute reality)

When I was a teenager, I never felt that I could get to 13/14 so the holy-grail to me was to be a 15/16.  If only I were size 15/16 then I could wear some of the same brands of clothing that all the other girls were wearing.  If only I were a size 15/16 I would get dates.  If only I were a 15/16 I would be popular.   It was painfully important to me.  I remember, to this day, the first time I could get a pair of 15/16 jeans zipped.  I was SO happy.  I was going to fit in – I had jeans that other girls were wearing.  I didn’t care that they were supposed to be baggy and weren’t – they zipped damn it and I had made it – I was deemed acceptable enough for a major jeans company to make pants in my size.  I was flying high when I proudly walked out of the dressing room to show my Mom and Dad.

And then I was devastated.  Utterly crushed.  Because they said I couldn’t have them, my parents were not going to let me have this piece of nirvana.  This acid washed path to social acceptance and happiness was being denied to me.  My parents said that the jeans were too tight.  I was a pretty naïve kid – so I didn’t see what they saw.  As far as I was concerned they zipped, I could breathe, sort of, and all the girls wore tight pants so what’s the what?  I was convinced that my parents didn’t want me to be happy, they wanted to keep me down.  They were EVIL.  Why would they want to do that?  I don’t know, that thought didn’t happen, I was thirteen.  Thirteen year olds often don’t think past their initial thoughts.  I was furious and despondent.

I felt so hurt and betrayed.  Because they KNEW that I was not popular.  They knew that I was ridiculed and bullied.  They knew it was so much more than just being picked last for some group thing.  I had a horrible time on the school bus.  It was kids refusing to let me sit down coupled with the bus driver not coming to my aid but yelling at me to sit down.  Twice a day every day.   It was sneers and name calling in the halls.  And I knew that my parents knew I was going through this and that appearance was a big part of it.  We didn’t have a lot of money so my clothes were not the best so that didn’t help either.  So I could not fathom why they were actively preventing me from taking this denim paved road to social success.   

What an argument – tears were shed, why did they hate me?  Reason was tried and failed flatly.  And then finally my Dad just left for the automotive department or something.  My Mom just didn’t know how else to make me understand what was really wrong with the jeans.  She could not gently impart to me that buying these jeans would NOT improve my social situation but make things worse.  So, in desperation, she blurted it out right there in the dressing room.  She told me EXACTLY where the jeans were too tight.  She used the word ‘Pussy’ to do it too!  Due to my recent research on another ‘fun’ label I had been given I was not so very naïve to certain slang anymore.  I think I turned a particularly brilliant shade of magenta as I looked in the mirror and experienced my first real fashion epiphany.  The sight combined with my Mom’s use of the ‘P’ word right there in the Bradlees dressing room for strangers to hear, brought it all right on home for me.  Yeah, still not sure how I survived the humiliation.  I mean, people were looking and they were like - 'What did you say?' to my Mom.  It would be quite a few years before I learned the phrase ‘camel toe’ but I am pretty certain that no one has ever used the phrase when describing me or my clothing because of that day at Bradlees. Thank you Mom, God bless you.

In my quest for acceptance, squeezing into anything that was close to popular in clothing became an obsession. (As long as ‘camel toe’ was not happening – it was a few years before I learned about ‘back fat’ though -bummer).  I scoured, not the magazines designed for teenagers, but Cosmo – because that is geared towards twenty something ‘misses’ sized women and I could fit in ‘misses’ clothes.  I rationalized that if it looked a bit like a style I saw in Cosmo I could make it work for me.  I decided I was being ahead of my time, that was my story and I was sticking with it.  If it was in the store I assumed it was cool therefore I attempted to fit in it.  No store would sell something that wasn’t cool right? (I didn't know that is what they want you to think!)  I had quite the collection of polyester blouses, which I paired with the jeans that I was able to fit into.   If it fit, I wore it all year long – season appropriate be damned.  God, I was always sweating with that polyester!  It’s like designers determined that cotton was only for the thin.  And every now and again I found something in the juniors department that would fit.  It was like I won the lottery if I fit into an XL in the teen department.   Skirt and top with piano keyboard motif?  It fit – I wore it – was from the Junior Department!  Yay me.  (Choking on the memory of the piano mini skirt /  dolman sleeve top ensemble now, even if it was the 80’s)

I did other things as well to ensure that I ‘fit in’ and to make sure I didn’t give anyone reason to make up new names or rumors for me.  I had to wash my hair every day because I noticed that one of the things that people ridiculed the unpopular kids about was dirty hair.   All the popular girls washed their hair every day so I did too.  I NEVER had dirty hair.  What I did have was some really dry, unhealthy hair.  One day on the bus – some girl out of the blue just stared me in the face and said ‘God. You. Are. So. UGLY!’  Yep, I remember exactly how she looked when she said it too – like she just ate a bug.  And so began my affair with make-up.  How to contour my eyes and my cheeks – how to cover up any imperfection on my face, like my freckles, to avoid being ‘ugly’.  Make-up became another obsession.  I’m not exactly over it now – maybe a little, but not really.  I showered multiple times a day for the same reason, no one ever said I smelled and they weren’t going to either, unless they wanted to lie about it.

 Another thing I did, or more to the point didn’t do, was to practice ‘avoidance’.  If I didn’t think I would be successful at something or look ‘OK’ doing something – no matter what it was - I did not do it, avoided it at all costs.  I affected an ‘I am too cool to do that’ attitude.  That is what I thought I was doing – likely I just looked silly or maybe even nasty and mean.  (Which is probably the real reason I never had any dates in high school - not my flubber.)   If I wasn’t sure I could do a cartwheel, I didn’t try.  I still can’t do one.  If I wasn’t sure that the moped would hold me, I didn’t get on it. To this day I have never taken a ride on a moped.   If I felt fat in a bathing suit, and I always felt fat in a bathing suit, I didn’t go to the beach.  If I went to the beach I always had a long t-shirt on over my bathing suit.  I lived ‘At the Shore’ and I was white as snow in the middle of the summer.   Once, someone actually thought I was seriously ill because I was so pale.  If I didn’t know how to play I didn’t try to play, any sport.  I only did anything resembling a sport in gym class so that I wouldn’t fail the class and I was predictably awful.  That was pretty counter intuitive to my goal of getting thin huh?   But logic wasn't at play here, and rarely is when someone starts doing these things to 'fit in'

I don’t know how to play any sport at all properly – not even kick ball.  The concept of ‘practice makes perfect’ was lost on me – to me that was just ‘practice provides more opportunity for someone to laugh at me’.  Do you know how much I missed out on?   I had one chance to go skiing – the senior trip – and I fell getting off the ski lift and needed the ski instructor to help me up, I was so mortified because, you know, I was the ONLY person that ever happened to right?   But I knew that the two main reasons I needed help were that my jeans were too tight and I had zero flexibility in my legs, not just that I had never skied before.  I made it down the bunny hill, once, but only because I had to in order to get down the hill.  I fell at the bottom of the hill and needed the same ski instructor to help me up again.  That was all I could take and I took off the skis and sat out the rest of the trip.  I was 17.  I am 48 and the shame I felt then, burns in me now as I type like it was yesterday.  I have never tried skiing again.  Which sucks because it really looks like so much fun.   What a waste and how foolish.  

Eventually, I combined modest weight loss with dressing old for my age via the ‘misses’ department and was able to eek out a style that was, if not embraced as cool, was at least ignored most days by the other kids by the time I was a sophomore.   And even after gaining some acceptance in a ‘crowd’ I continued to do a lot of stuff to ensure that I was NOT the butt of anyone’s joke and certainly not in need of any offensive nick names.  I was not always successful - but enough that I wasn't always miserable and in tears.  

I still fight those feelings today.  I am still afraid of being laughed at.  Not as much as when I was a kid – but enough to still hamper my life to some degree.   I am 5’ 8” and I weigh 217 pounds.  I could stand to be healthier – absolutely.  However, I will NEVER be petite.  I will always be a ‘big girl’ even if I were to win The Biggest Loser – because that is my body shape.  No matter how silly I KNOW it is, I still feel that if I lost weight that would fix everything.  The hot guy would pay attention to me for a change.    I would be lovable and sexy and pretty and all that awesome stuff that some days I don’t feel I am.  (Yeah, I'm married and he is hot but that is not the point - see comment about logic above.)  I do exercise now more than I ever did when I was younger.  And I do eat better, although nothing you would call healthy that is for certain!  And not enough of either to fully test my theory that if I were I size 12 I would feel like Miss Universe.  Because I would be SO thin at that size and thin equals beautiful and lovable, right?  And angry – I would be really angry because I would be very hungry.  And also tired from all the working out.  And oblivious to a lot of things in the world because of all the stuff I would miss because I had to work out so much to be thin.  Dilemmas everywhere.  But I would be a size 12, the new top end of normal and acceptable.  I would also weigh about 150 pounds if I were a size 12.  Technically I would still be ‘FAT’, according to society, at that weight.  Even on my 5’8” frame, 150 pounds is still fat.  And by ‘FAT’ I mean somehow not good enough to be one of the ‘beautiful’ people.  Not worthy of love or attention from a beautiful man.   Not sexy.  Not pretty. 

But I would be a size 12 and that is NOT ‘plus size’. 

I know I am not the only one who beats demons back each and every day – these are just some of mine and part of how they were born.  And a bit of how they continue to linger in my soul through perceptions created by people in boardrooms and by my own insidious brain.  What else will we allow ourselves to believe as we continue on in life?  What demons will be helped to thrive in us?   

And just an addendum to everything because I wrote all of the above awhile ago and something just happened recently that goes with this, because its about how our minds can be our worst enemy :
A super hot guy, not my husband, stopped what he was doing, held up a bunch of people, to check on ME, regardless of how FAT I am, my size was not his concern - my well being was.  Apparently I looked upset, like something was wrong. This guy was concerned and wanted to be sure I was OK.  He did this because he is a caring human being.  I was fine -it was just damn hot in the room and my pale face was quite flushed - I LOOKED like I was either about to cry or flip out or pass out, any one of those things would be an appropriate assumption if you saw me and didn't know me.  If you know me, you know that I get red in the face whenever I am warmer than I want to be or if I do even the slightest thing that might resemble exercise, which I had just done.  The curse of the pale Irish girl.  So I said "Oh, No, I'm fine - this is just because I am Irish" while gesturing at my face. He laughed and later did something incredibly kind as well.  I didn't get exactly how really kind what he had done was until later when I saw the photographic evidence.  And that is all I am saying because its so awesome that I feel like its private. : ) 

Forty - eight hours after this experience I was certain that in reality the nice, hot guy was really being sarcastic and not sincere.  My brain had decided that he had witnessed me doing something that made him think I was being mean to someone else.  My brain made me think he was actually trying to call me out on this perceived 'problem' I had with another person in the room by pretending to be concerned.  My brain twisted it into 'Shit he thinks I was really rude to that other girl when in reality it was a running joke thing between us, but if you didn't know that you'd think I'm a bitch'  And my brain did this 'crazy' dance, forgetting the sequence of events that day and just thinking that I did something that made someone think I was evil. And totally freaked me out because I really don't think I am mean and I don't like to be mean and I surely don't want people to think I am mean.  Because mean people suck.   And my brain also made me bother the shit out of two other people so that they could reassure me that my brain was being stupid.  And they were kind to me and talked me off the edge.  

Our brains are amazing - they can make us feel perfect and wonderful and joyous or they can make us feel like tiny, insignificant, horrible creatures.  No matter what age we are.  So always be on the lookout for what your brain is saying to you.  If its bad and you can turn it off by yourself get your support system to help you because feeling like I felt after my brain started its little crazy dance sucks.

Peace Out Beautiful People! <3 p="">

Wait, This Is ALL My Fault?

Yeah, I am pretty pissed off right now.  

I had some down time and wanted a little distraction from work to reset before the next task.  So I was reading a popular website that we have probably all been to before.  I noticed on the ‘Living’ tab there was an article about “11 Ways You May Be Sabotaging Your Marriage”   This was further sub-categorized under the ‘Relationships’ section of the ‘Living’ section.

Notice that the title of these sections is not gender specific so I figured this would be some nice all-purpose info about how couples unconsciously mess up.  Who doesn’t want to check this out so they can be armed and ready to avoid divorce court?  (Should that be capitalized?  Hmmm).  The actual article is called ‘Collateral Damage 11 Ways You May Be Sabotaging Your Marriage’ by Jenna Birch for Woman’s Day.   I don’t know who Jenna Birch is and I don’t read Woman’s Day but I still figured it would be couple centric not gender specific.  It has slides – I liked that – it made the ‘article’ a quick read, perfect for my little break.  But that is probably where I erred – thinking that relationship advice could be supplied in something that was a ‘quick read’. 

So why are my panties in a bunch?   Probably I wasn’t supposed to get this emotion from the article I read but I did.  See what I got from this article was that women are the saboteurs of marriage. 

Here let me give you the list from the article and tell you why:

11.   You wait for your husband to speak up if he needs something, especially sex.

22.   You don’t tell your husband you appreciate him

33.   You complain he doesn’t show affection when he actually does. 

44.   You ignore your lack of libido

55.   You subconsciously put your ex on a pedestal

66.   You think all men are bad

77.   You try to make the relationship work all by yourself

88.   You assume you know what he’s thinking

  9.   During disagreements you ignore his perspective

  10. You rely on sarcasm to communicate

  11. You don’t connect with him every day

That list is word for word from the article so thank you to Ms. Birch.

After I cleaned the brains off my desk, because yes, my head exploded, I really got angry.  Is this the 1950’s?  It’s the woman who does the bad things and needs to guard against it?  It’s not alternately the woman or the man in the RELATIONSHIP who may be guilty of any of these acts?  Are you kidding me?  And aren’t a couple of those items contradictory to each other?  Maybe not on the surface of the list alone but when you read the little helpful paragraph after each item – yep, absolutely. 

Now to be sure this list does apply to women – but it applies to men too.  It applies to PEOPLE.

Let’s examine what was in those little bits of brain that I had to clean up, item by item:

  1.   Don’t men do this as well?  Especially men of a certain age who are hung up on item 4, (don’t worry we will get there)?  And what about when someone does speak up and is IGNORED?  Or told that the needs are somehow wrong or bad?  Or God Forbid something along the lines of ‘Get over it, real life is not like books, movies and TV – no one is passionate or holds hands or kisses like that in real life!’ ?  (That one really sucks on a lot of levels because it discounts your feelings and your intelligence!)

22.   Men do this – everyone does this – we all forget to let someone know that we appreciate them sometimes.  It is not the sole responsibility of the person with the vagina to safeguard the feelings of the person with the penis. 

33.  OK – this one was special.  The little paragraph after this one went on to explain in not so many words about how men show feelings by mowing the grass not waxing poetic about how they love, love, love their girl to the moon and back.  So remember ladies nothing says ‘I love you‘ like a well-manicured lawn and stop expecting words, chocolates and sex OK?

44.   Uh, men do this – they blame it on stress, or Low T and then won’t go to the doctor.   They don’t go to the doctor because it seems a lot of guys can’t quite face the reality that their buddy Mr. Jones doesn’t want to go to the night club anymore.  Can’t tell anyone, like a doctor who spent years learning about the physiology of the human body and might have a suggestion to help, about that.  Somehow, it is much better if only the little woman knows, and if she doesn’t understand that this is just the way it is from now on well that is her issue –the horny slut!   Mr. Jones is retired and the Pink Palace better be too!  Sometimes, women get told that the man’s low libido is because we are over-weight, have wrinkles or don’t wear the ‘right’ lingerie.  We aren’t sexy enough either.  Some women are told it was always a bad idea to be with them because they never were sexy.  And some are told that they are not sexy ‘anymore’ i.e. we are getting older and when we lay down so do our breasts.   Well I got news for you Peter Pan – this ain’t Neverland. 

55.   I really didn’t have a problem with this beyond that it didn’t acknowledge that men can do this.  If you do this you are a special kind of stupid and you have been lying to yourself and your significant other – your ex is your ex for a reason and everybody really is better off so STOP IT.

66.   Who has heard something like this:  ‘I hate that women cry to get their way in an argument’?  Imma bet a lot of you.  Isn’t that a huge generalization that means ‘all women are bad’?  I kinda think it is.   No, you jackass, I cry because you hurt my feelings.  Just as another example, I’ve also heard from a man studying to be a police officer: ‘I can’t wait to be a cop because all women cry to get out of tickets and I will NEVER give a woman a break’.  I shudder to think what other awesomeness is rolling around in that guys’ brain because he has a license to carry a gun!

77.   See 4 – if men don’t show feelings, how are you supposed to NOT try to make the relationship work all by yourself?  A relationship implies more than one person is involved in it and for the purpose of this diatribe a relationship is a boy and a girl.  The article in question implies that the girl tries to do it all in a relationship and that is a no no.   That really discounts men doesn’t it?  That sucks because ALL MEN are not bad.  I know men who would move Heaven and Earth for their women.  The women in some of those relationships?   Yeah, they are some of the most entitled bitches I’ve ever met, the only thing that they deserve to have moved for them is a boulder, moved right on top of them.  Boys and Girls (or Boys and Boys or Girls and Girls but that is another topic) have to work together – it doesn’t matter if one tries to do it all – eventually it will break.

88.   Oh yeah, ‘cause no man in the history of history ever assumed that they knew what a woman was thinking!  Puh-leeze.   Everyone does this, regardless of which set of naughty bits they have – we assume we know exactly what another person is thinking.  I think humans in general are hardwired to do this.  It leads to all kinds of problems.  Tons.    

99.   See my comments on item 8 – enough said.

  10. Ditto

111.   Again I go back to 4.  If men are just emotionless sperm banks who mow the lawn, who cares?  Why bother?  But if they are really needing ‘connection’ why is the responsibility of the woman to provide the connection and make sure that the connection happens so the men feel better?  Don’t men need to consider a connection to women?  Don’t men need to be responsible to share that they need something?  Just because it’s not good to wait around for someone to ask for something doesn’t mean asking for something is bad. 

Now, I intend no disrespect to the author of this list and article because advice is a good thing.  Exposing oneself to the opinions of others is a good for the brain.  You stretch the brain and you select off what works for you and perhaps get better.   Ms. Birch gave us some suggestions to help prevent a bad situation, because surely a damaged marriage is a bad situation.  She probably never intended to incite any ire at all let alone what came to my mind. 

What I disrespect and object to is the idea that marital sabotage is the work of women and therefore the responsibility of women to fix.  I object to the idea that a man mowing the grass is AFFECTION but that I must show appreciation to a man in ways tangible to him.  I object to the idea that a woman must take responsibility for her lack of libido in order to resolve an issue with a man.  I object to the idea that a woman has to connect with the man to make things work and that the man should expect this.   

But above all, I object that there are a lot of women out there who think that there is something wrong with them when a relationship fails.  And this article brought this feeling in particular to the surface for me.  Everyone/Everything in a relationship is interconnected and if a piece breaks the whole thing breaks.  If a relationship is to succeed everyone involved has to work at it or the dominos will surely fall, one by one.

Trying to Wear Eco Friendly Clothes Is Going to Make My Bank Account Extinct

I saw an article on a lovely and popular website - the article was about Eco-Friendly clothing, specifically it was identifying 'Eleven Eco Friendly Brands' for the consumer.  I was extremely excited about this because I am trying very very hard to be a responsible citizen of the planet.  I am something of a fashionista too and well, a lot of Eco-Friendly clothes leave a little something to be desired...
I was very excited to see some options on purchasing organic and sustainable items.
So I began to click through the slide show of products by these eleven brands.
First up was a beach towel, it was really quite cute and it cost only... $90!  Holy crap that is a lot for a towel!
Alright we will keep going - its just a fluke - surely trying to be an eco-conscious citizen doesn't mean eating cheese sandwiches every meal for a week just to get a 'good' beach towel?
And I clicked on - $85 Sandals, $200 Clutch - nope not cheese sandwiches for a week - PB & J for a month.
I'm not a quitter though - $40 Baseball hat OK - that is a little better but, it is a baseball hat and it was not to my taste - Click.
$160 Earrings, $295 Eyeglass Frames , $179 Peep Toe Sandals.
Oh. No.
$48 Necklace, $15 Textured Knit Top, $428 Dress (REALLY???) and lastly $235 Blue Suede Shoes.

OK - lets be honest here.  Who the hell has that kind of budget?  I DO NOT.   I can do the $15 knit top if it were to my liking.  But everything else - its really too much money for most people to buy.
And as long as only a few can buy it - the cost is not going to come down.
So what do we do?  Just through our hands up and say - I can't be eco conscious because I can't afford it?
Well, no, of course not!  That is not helping anybody - least of all our planet.
But there are some simple things that, while not completely organic, are sustainable and my motto is every little bit helps.
So - Here are my suggestions - Well its really just one suggestion that has a lot more impact than you may think at first glance:
BUY SECOND HAND!
Flea Markets, Swap Meets, Yard Sales, Thrift Stores.
For all of you who are cringing because someone else wore it or ate off it - grow up.  Wash it.  Now its yours, you paid for it.   We need to stop being a disposable society people!
Second hand is very sustainable for a few reasons:
-You are keeping something out of a landfill - presumably if the seller doesn't sell their items they will eventually end up as trash.
-Buying second hand reduces the amount of new goods that need to be manufactured.  This has a ripple effect.  Fewer raw materials are needed if fewer new goods are needed - fewer raw materials means less shipping needed to get the materials to the manufacturing facility which will reduce carbon emissions into the atmosphere.  If fewer new goods are needed then less energy will be used to create fewer goods.  Less energy use means less use of natural resources such as wood, oil and coal.   (Yes, I know that reducing volume at a manufacturing facility can lead to unemployment - and I think that stinks - but we need to start doing something before we kill our planet we don't have another planet.  But we may have more jobs to replace the lost ones.  I think if we work together we can come up with other forms of employment in sustainable industries to take the place of these potential lost jobs - and I will talk about that on another post after I do some more research - but today the topic is being more sustainable / eco-conscious with our purchases)
-You are helping someone's personal economy by purchasing from them - what an awesome thing, helping someone to make some money to keep their personal world turning.
-You may be contributing to charity - either local or something on a more global scale depending if you purchase from a thrift store run by a local church or a 'corporate' charity such as Good Will.
-You are saving a LOT of money.  Second hand is generally cheaper than new - unless we are dealing with rare antiques.  That money you save can then be used to pump back into your savings or the larger economy for, hey, check this out,  NEW ORGANIC/SUSTAINABLE goods : )  

I like buying second hand for some other reasons too -
- I love some designers that I just can't afford to pay retail designer prices.  Consignment stores (or upscale thrift stores) often have gently used, higher priced items.  You get your upscale fix within your budget and you are helping a small business.  If you are really lucky you find these designers in thrift stores that are affiliated with a charity like I mention above (often at an even more reasonable price than a consignment store!) Win - Win!
-I have a very quirky sense of style at times.  Buying second hand allows me to mix old with new and create my own unique style.  Sometimes that means just mixing pieces and sometimes it means deconstructing and reconstructing a new piece with bits from both new and second hand - this is often called 'up-cycling'  and can be a lot of fun!   I plan to talk more about my own personal up-cycling sometime in the near future too -

-One other thing, when you yard sale/ flea market/ swap - you get to meet some really neat people.  People who have stories to tell which is always interesting - I will have to remember some to put here some day

Second Hand is a great way to help make sure your carbon footprint isn't Sasquatch sized!

Yeah, IDK - that sort of doesn't fit but I like Bigfoot and wanted to work it in here somehow!  its my blog and I'll be silly if I want to  :)

Suffering...

We both are destroyed and in need of patching

Fragmented for so long that there is no real pain

Just a dull, constant ache.

This here, now…

Is just a feeling, just a moment that we need.

Something to fix the broken spirit

To take away the misery of being numb.

It’s not about love. 

That is another thing for another time and place.

Just be here now and fall into this emotion with me.

I want to feel something,

Anything…

Everything…

Now, in the silence at the beginning,

My mind is alert and aware, it seems, for the very first time.

Piqued for every nuance of communication between we two

Seeking a knowledge that everything is OK

That. I. am. OK.

My body starving for validation for so long,

That it is acceptable and able

Able to stir a feeling in another. 

To create a fire in another. 

Then your voice, just barely a whisper generated from

A place in the middle of your essence

And your touch, searing my skin with a different,

Sweet torment.

Both are striving to give me answers,   

Both urgent and gentle at the same time.

Exploring, seeking and learning.

Teaching.

And I try to repay this in kind.

Your eyes expressing a wonder at this instant.

That this, here is…

That I am…

So perfect in this moment.

As are you.

There are no flaws of body or personality.

There is just the humid air

And the soft music of two beings

Finding a strength in each other.

Strength, that is not present in one of us alone,

To go to the place where our souls are complete.

And in that moment, that beautiful, electric, microcosm.

When appreciation of one another is overwhelming.

Agonizingly exhausting.

Reborn, we bask in what we gave to one another.

It’s not just a feeling,

It’s something more, a gift.

Something vital to survival

Given at a time of need.

Maybe it is a form of love.

Not a romantic love though

But a tenderness, an appreciation of another creature

One in need of the same repair.

Please.

Earth Day is Tomorrow 4/22/14

Earth Day, a day to think about the environment of the world and how to make a positive impact on it.  The whole, great big, Earth.  When people hear talk of ‘The Environment’ and all the bad things happening to it they often think of a forest or jungle somewhere being cut down for its wood or an oil spill in some ocean on the other side of the continent.  They think of smog in a big city that isn’t their own or of polar ice caps melting.   They think of droughts or floods that happen far away from them.  The idea of ‘The Environment’ becomes overwhelming when thought of in this way.  A feeling of hopelessness sets in. And the concept of doing something on Earth Day to make a positive impact on ‘The Environment’ of the Earth just seems like a waste of time to many people.   What can one person do that will prevent a jungle from being leveled or prevent the ice caps from melting?   

It’s not a waste of time.  The fact is that the environment isn’t something ‘somewhere else on Earth’ that you have no impact on.  You have a personal environment – it is your surroundings every day.  It’s your home, your yard, the water you drink and the air that you breathe.  It’s everything around you and within you.  It’s all part of the Earth.  You can make changes to your personal environment that will become a part of a trickle down impact for the good of the Earth’s environment.  When everyone makes small changes to their personal environment those changes add up.  They become big, global changes that can and will have a positive impact on the Earth.  On OUR Earth that we all need to care about, now before it’s too late.

Here are some ideas that you can use in your personal environment on Earth Day and every day to make a positive impact on the environment of the Earth. 

Turn off the water while brushing your teeth.  

Run the dishwasher only when it is full

Use the load size controls on your washer to reduce water waste

Unplug electronics you aren’t using. 

Use re-usable dinner-ware for your picnics and parties instead of disposable. 

Go without the plastic straws and just drink from the glass. 

Use a re-usable water bottle instead of buying bottled water

Use washable cloth cleaning rags instead of paper towels. 

Get a rain barrel to collect rainwater for watering your garden. 

Open or close your curtains and blinds to help regulate the temperature of your home

Walk instead of drive whenever you can.

Recycle everything your community allows. 

Settle Down

Someone once chastised me for things I wanted in life.
She said I needed to learn to settle like she had.
Her reason for settling was that people like us did not get the good, shiny and pretty things in life.
We get what's left.
That is our lot in life - what's left.
By 'people like us' she meant our appearance.
Our physical appearance was such that we did not deserve the pretty things.
I disagreed.
Loudly.
Never settle - that is what I said - I said I would never settle.
Turns out those were just words on my part.
I didn't know it then, but I listened to her and did just what she said.

Woman in White -

  
Alone I sit
Seeing the world pass me by
The thoughts I think
The dreams I dream 
Are all alone
Here I wait 
For another to come 
A soul to hear what I say
And deliver me from 
The blank white world

Insomnia

Sleep. 

Eluded me again.

Can't turn it off.

Keep trying.

But it's close

I feel it creeping up behind me

Eventually my eyes close.

But that is just a background,

Discordant images flashing there.

Sleep, It's close  

I think it may tag me

and scream "you're it!"

and then run and hide from me again.

Soon though – it has to be soon.

When my breaths come at a steady pace.

Before my sanity fractures.

The mind just needs to cooperate.