An Open Horizon

Okay, Okay... so I just wanted to drop a quick note to all my lady friends.

I've noticed a shift in the last year. I've stopped watching talk shows and only read Parenting magazine, so that may be the shift I've seen.... but still. The shift is an empowerment amongst us gals. I partially blame the gay movement. Why? Because you pretty ladies are emerging with your chopped off hair, boy pants and no make up. You are kissing your partners and the world took notice to how damn sexy you tend to be while doing it.



Lesbians are making hetero women realize they were mislead on what "real" beauty is meant to look like. Well, labels aside... you can tell the shift is style. It's kind of 80s grunge and I love it. Our teenagers are showing us adults how it's done. Tegan and Sara are setting a prime example of beauty beyond the magazines. Hell, the phenomenon of the Philippines Transgender Pageant have shown us that the beauty of a women is an open horizon.

So lets take this moment to smile at our beautiful bodies and faces. Let's caress our stretch marks from birth like honor. Let us make cosmo and other fluff magazines sell us health food instead of quick fix creams. Ladies, take a look around you. Skinny isn't in-- being healthy and loving yourself IS!

Now that I have a daughter I realize more and more how critical my mother was of my sister and I growing up. My mother is a bit of a control freak (she's gotten a lot better since my adolescence) so she just wanted us to be like her, which is understandable... but even with that said, I'd much rather my daughter be with the fringe crowd and dress in clothes from goodwill than be with the cool kids in the name brand clothes. It takes more confidence to overcome the Mean Girls than to join them.

In middle school I use to come home and cry for hours because of what was said to me. I would leave the house with my sister teasing me and then spend hours at school hearing about my appearance from others. I'd hear about who was wearing make up and who had sex over the weekend. One of my close friends was going to the tanning bed every day with her mother. I felt consumed with my outsides and it made my insides twist with confusion.

"If I wore lipstick maybe he'll notice me."
"If I wore different jeans maybe she'd be nice to me at school tomorrow."
"If I bought different shoes maybe I could sit with the cool kids at lunch."

By the time I turned fifteen I had already had sex, began painting my toe nails and would spend hours in front of a mirror trying to fix my hair just right. That is entirely too young to have had sex already. I had been sexualized by peer pressures about my appearance. It seems a lot of people don't see that connection. If you start out your child giving them stern gender barriers:

"No, Timmy, only girls play with dolls."

"No, Dana, only boys like the color blue." 

You make them define themselves purely by their gender and not by their interests. You are restricting them from expression and forcing them into roles that are way past due to be shattered.

By forcing your kid into the role of "male" and "female" instead of "baby", "child" and "teenager" you are telling them to act out roles of "female is submissive to her male counterpart" and "have sex to keep your man interested" because those are the examples we are giving our children at home and in the media. If you make your daughter define herself as a girl instead of a person, she'll follow all those Top Girl fashions and Girls Guide to Sex lists. Now, I'm not saying that it won't happen regardless and preteens are already developing their personalities and have their own opinions about things already. I'm just saying-- maybe it'll show our teenagers that finding themselves and loving themselves is more important than finding what's in each others pants?

[Quick Disclosure] I'm speaking purely on personal experience and theory.

Maybe it was because I was raised in a very religious home. Maybe it's because I grew up in a small town and there wasn't much else for young people to do but explore other people's bodies, get involved in drugs or get a job. Luckily, I chose the job route. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and no matter how many showers I took I swore my hair still smelled like cheeseburgers. I didn't respect myself though, I sought love through affection because I knew of no other way. I had been taught that love comes from the outside in, not the inside out. That is what I wish to never impose on my daughter. Why did it take me years in my twenties to realize that I had to love myself first? Why didn't someone tell me before hand?

O yeah, that's right, I was told jesus would make me happy and that's the only way I could find love. Way to give everyone insecurities and not let them trust their own instincts, jesus. What a douchebag. I didn't know of anything else. I was told if I put on my sunday best (outward appearance), gave my heart to god (outside source), and love him first (outside source) maybe I could be happy (inside) the rest of my life. Instead, it took me reversing that list and omitting religion all together before I felt comfortable with myself and began to love myself full on. I worked hard on getting to where I am today with my body. I'm still thirty or so pounds over what I was when I made this revelation but I realize I've had a baby and I don't let a little thing like baby weight make me reconsider my love for myself. I remember what it took to get to where I loved myself and I plan on revisiting those things to nurture my love.

Every relationship needs attention, even the relationship with yourself.

That's just my insight for today. Pass this on to someone you know struggling to find love through someone else. You can love yourself and still want to change things about yourself. Only you should be allowed to make those decisions about yourself anyway.

Sometimes you just need to cry

Learning how to be a parent is exhausting. Not only does everyone have an opinion, throw in some lack of sleep and realizing you haven't showered in a week... all you want to check yourself into the nut house for some quiet time.

A week or so ago I had a moment of, "Don't look back" and then instantly felt guilty.

It had been a horrible day. BabyG woke up consistently every few hours during the night and then at 3am went into an extreme fit. She wouldn't latch on to breast feed in the bed and was punching and scratching my chest and nipples. OUCH! I might add. This form of restlessness means she is DONE with trying to sleep, or at the very least done with being in the bed. I move to the living room and change her diaper (Which always seems to be full). She plays for a few minutes before getting mad again, I lay on the floor and nurse next to her. I dose off on the floor next to her feeling like a mother cat with a kitten. I awake about an hour later to her screams, she had awoken from her little cat nap and was hungry again. I move to the rocking chair and hope to get a bit more sleep out of her. I manage to get a few more hours of sleep with her secured to me by pillows in the chair. Hubby wakes up and playfully kisses me awake. All of my small amount of energy is used to not jump from the chair and strangle him. I was sleeping the best all night and every second is precious.

The entire day is spent nursing every 45mins and listening to screaming if I have to go to the bathroom or fix myself something to eat. I'm so tired the entire day I can barely form a thought. I keep telling myself she's my daughter and I should love her. I'm so lucky to have a baby when so many people all over the world would love to be in my situation. I have some close friends that keep trying and not succeeding. I should be grateful, I tell myself, this is a blessing. Children are a blessing, BabyG is healthy and growing. I search the internet about her nursing habits, I check her temperature, everything is normal. It's a growth spurt, her doctor's appointment was in just a couple days away so I decided to stick it out as long as her temperature stayed normal.

Before I know it the sun has dipped behind the horizon and I'm starving. I had managed to eat a few things that take the less effort possible but we hadn't gone grocery shopping so we needed something and quick because my patience was well overspent.

Hubby gets home and changes into his comfy street clothes and plops down on the couch to play on his phone with little to no response to my inquiry on dinner. This is something new has been doing, the tango of who's going to do what. No hint of moving when a decision is made so it makes me think we're at a stand off. The anger builds behind my eyes and flexes it's muscles, I hand him his angry baby who had been nursing for almost a full hour and said, "I'll go. You stay here. Text me what you want." With that, I was out. I stuck the key in and pushed the button to start the car. I had a surge of excitement as I slowly pulled out of the apartment parking lot. This was the first time I was out of the house without the baby. My self awareness slowly seeped back. My teeth weren't brushed, I looked down and noticed I was basically in pajamas and with a glance in the mirror I see my nasty hair-- When was my last shower? Well, fuck.

I was just going through a drive through anyway, I reasoned with myself. Who cares. I'm still fuming about how passive and "who cares" attitude Hubby had when very obviously I was starving and it would've been nice if he had offered to help me with his daughter. I drove the exact speed limit to expand my time out of the house. "We don't have onion rings," the first place I stopped at tells me through the speaker box. Her attitude was too much. "Fuck this place. Cancel my order." I bark at her through the box. Okay, she had some tude but cussing at her wasn't nice. I thought about apologizing but I knew anything I had ordered in it's place would come with special teenage spit-sauce so I decided to go somewhere else instead. I drive in the opposite direction and decide I need wine. I instantly knew why my BFF use to tell me about drives she would take, just circling around my tiny little town wasting a few hours to blow off some steam. She would just use the time to gathering herself and maybe cry to herself about the recent frustrations.

I parked in front of a department store and cried. I turned the car off and sobbed as loud as my body would allow. People slowly walked by and tried to stare without me noticing. I didn't care. I wanted to scream: "I HAVE A BABY AT HOME, I NEED THIS! SHUT YOUR FACE!" I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and let the tears roll down my nose and drop, drop, drop down into my lap. I shouldn't have cussed at the fast food chick, no matter how snotty she was. Her day was obviously going south as it were. Hell, I may have just projected her being snotty and she wasn't even meaning to sound the way she did. Maybe Hubby wasn't being evasive when he got home? Was I projecting that too? No, he was totally being evasive and avoidy and totally unacceptable. I check the time, I've been gone for twenty minutes at this point. Twenty glorious minutes. I tell myself I'll take a full hour. Yeah, fuck it. I had just fed BabyG before I left so I deserve an hour, she won't be starving.

I even entertained the thought of not going back at all. What would happen if I just took off? I grip the steering wheel with both hands at ten and two. I flex my fingers and close my eyes. I imagined seeing the road slip underneath the car in the night. I picture me driving to Florida and sleeping on the beach then waking up the next day to finish the drive to North Carolina. I just wanted to cry on BFF's shoulder and curl up on her couch in a drunken stupor. Yeah, I could do that. I tried to factor in how much gas money I'd need. Wait. What am I doing? I can't leave my baby, I can't leave Hubby. What would Hubby do with me gone? He'd do fine. I knew he'd do fine. BabyG would be fed formula and Hubby would divorce me and find a beautiful woman that BabyG would call Mommy and forget all about me. I was the deadbeat mom. He was the savior. My stomach turned at the thought of someone else raising my kid. I couldn't do that. I tried to beat myself up about thinking about such an atrocious thing but there wasn't enough room in my soul for more sadness.

I spent a full hour shopping for my wine and just taking laps around the store. It felt nice to walk around unattached. I kept checking my phone and wondered why Hubby hadn't texted me yet. Did he even care I was gone? Whatever, I thought. Maybe he is mad at me. O well, I'm mad at him, I thought. I picked up a few things on a whim and decided I needed a book. Growing up in a small town with a bunch of dumb rednecks I quickly learned that reading was a prime escape when I couldn't physically disappear. I self medicated with wine and a book. I paid for my items and realized I would still need to bring home food. I stopped at a burger place attached to the same parking lot just in time to receive a text message.

Hubby
  -Where are you?
Me 
 -I'm on my way home.

Nothing else. He didn't ask where I had been or inquire more about anything. Augh. As I'm parking I can see in through our open window, he is pacing with BabyG. He stops when he notices me and looks pissed as I'm unloading the bags from the car. I think about getting back in the car and driving off. No, I think, I have to face this. I make my way up the stairs and put some groceries away and pour myself a glass of wine. BabyG's lips were dry and she looks uncomfortable. Hubby drops some guilt on me about how hungry she is. I was only gone two hours. Whatever, I think, who cares? I'm just baby food. I had resigned myself to being an object rather than a person.

"Where is your food?" He asks.
"I decided not to eat." I respond. He just stares at me. I take a seat next to him and notice he's eating french fries, "Are there onion rings in the bag?"
"No."
"Goddammit. The whole fucking reason I went there was because the first place 'didn't have anymore onion rings' Stupid bastards." My rage is way too much at that point. I just lean my head back on the couch and try to shove it all back in the bottle.
"You okay?" He asks.
"No, I'm not." I instantly start crying, his face softens. I unload on him how I felt while I was out.
"You matter too, ya know." He says, shoving fries in his mouth. "You want some?" 
I shake my head no.
"You need to eat. You have to eat. BabyG depends on you. What's wrong?"
I cry a little harder, I only exist so she can. Great. What about me? "I'm just depressed."
He gives me a really long look, I look away but every time I look back he is still looking at me, searching for something to say then he breaks the silence, "Anything I can do?"

It's moments like that, that validate why I married him. Then I realized that if I had left we would've never had that conversation. It's so easy to leave, it's so much harder to stick with it. No matter how easy it is to be in love with Hubby, co-existing with someone and raising a third party is difficult. Juggling each other, work and a baby is hard. Being under the universe's thumb while trying to successfully function is hard.

Reading has helped, by the way. Hubby has started helping around the house more and the next day wasn't quite as hard. Every day it seems like BabyG lays on the floor longer, is happier with more tummy time and some times I even get a little longer between feedings. Every day is different. Some days are a breeze while others are full of challenges. I'm grateful and very lucky to have a spouse that is willing to put forth an effort and help me when requested. He even helps without my request, too. While I have a great support group they are on separate coasts and it isn't an easy drive. None of our friends here have kids and meeting people is hard. I'm glad I didn't leave but now I understand why people do... But leaving is a bad choice, it leaves lots of room for regret. 

Rinse, Wash, Repeat.

Pregnant Log
[ Pregnant: 28 Weeks ]
[ Mood Swings: Emotional ]
[ Cravings: Cereal, pepperoni, chocolate, ice cream ]

The turkey leftovers have long been eaten (or tossed out), Santa is gone, and the big mighty ball has dropped. Now is the time for the whirlwind party that is the end of December to give birth to new life, a new year, and a big ole middle finger to the Mayans. We made it! It's 2013, I'm still pregnant and Hubby is still overworked. What's so different this year?

When the snow melts in places that have snow, and the flowers start to bloom in places that have flowers-- I hopefully will be screaming like a banshee trying to squeeze my little bundle of joy out into the oxygen breathing world. It only seems fitting that I would be giving birth during the time of year that brings new life into the environment around us.

Besides me having a baby, each new year brings back my same new years resolution I have promised myself since becoming an adult. My resolution is less a goal and more a mantra.

"This year will be better than last year. I will smile more, love more and laugh more. Out with the negative, in with the positive."

This year may be the year that I do just that. I felt like the ball got rolling last new years when I decided to break all my comfort zones and "Go hard or go home." Well... I ended up in a completely different state, married to a man and pregnant. Ha, comfort zones demolished! Well, that's not to say I'm uncomfortable but I sure as hell jumped through some firey hoops to get here.

All through 2012 I was reflecting to the previous year and where I was and who I was with during that time of the year. Every time I did those flashbacks I knew I was in a much better place surrounded by much better people. My main sadness of 2012 was moving away from my BFF and her family. If I could do anything different in 2012, it would be to be able to see her more. Maybe 2013 will prove to be fruitful in that area.

It's so nice to be drama free and for the most part stress free too. I see great things in my future for 2013.

Dear Baby,

You are loved. First and foremost, love is what your father and I have for you. He loves you more than me, I'm pretty sure of it. I'm okay with it as long as you both don't gang up on me and call me names. But anyway, we love you. I want so many things for you. I want to protect you from all the hate in the world. I want you to dye your hair green and openly take your girlfriend to prom. (If you have girlfriends) I want you to stand up for the weak hearted and stand tall to the weak minded.

You are the next generation. You will be the captain of your own ship. I won't know your every emotion unless you express them to me. Please, express your emotions. I hope you learn to accept others even if they don't accept you. I want you to climb mountains and dive into the deepest seas. I want you to be better than I ever was. I look forward to holding you as you sleep and then chasing you down once you learn how to use your feet.

No matter how far you travel in this world I want you to know that you can always call Mom and Dad to pick you up. If you are anything like we were during our teen years a 3am phone call asking us to pick your drunk ass up won't be too far fetched. Lying will get you into the most trouble, truth will allow for less consequences (If any) to come your way.

Now, I must tell you about the world you're about to enter. The world is an ugly, fantastic place... Filled with demons and hidden unicorns. Hopefully you will also befriend a Queen or two. (They are fabulous friends indeed) The food is everlasting and always go for the local eateries over the chain restaurants. There is war, there will always be war. There is famine and starving children, there is sadness and suicide. Death is always closer than you imagine. Gravity is a science I hope you learn to appreciate, along with all the amazing science you I hope you want to prove (or disprove).

Even with all the nastiness in the world, I hope you will see the beauty around you. I hope to teach you the beauty of the world amongst all the sadness. I hope your new eyes see the world as a challenge rather than a burden. As you wiggle around in my belly I hope you someday appreciate the life that has been given to you. You have a couple more months to kick box in my belly and I hope you are able to be strong and take that first breath that leads into many million more. If you are able to join us out here, I'd really love to meet you and get to know you.

Love and kisses,
Your Mommy <3 p="p">

Baby Killer

Pregnant Log
[Pregnant: Unofficially 13wks] Still haven't gone to the doctor yet, but I do have health insurance card now! Making an appointment for tomorrow, hopefully.
[Mood Swings: Off the Charts]
[Cravings: Chocolate Milk and Pumpkin EVERYTHING!]

First off, I want to say I'm in an insanely good mood right this second. I don't know if anything will happen in between the beginning and ending of this blog to ruin this splendeferous feeling I have... but let's hope not! I hopped up right when my alarm went off this morning (that never happens) took my first morning poop in what feels like months. What? It's a wonderful feeling to start with empty bowels for the day. You take that for granted now, but just wait until your uterus is clogged with baby. AND I tried out Dunkin' Donuts. Well, not tried it, but the first one in Louisiana sprang up in my neighborhood. I managed to get completely ready and be out the door a few minutes after 8am. That's an easy thirty minutes early. The drive-thru was packed, it is the second day it's been open, but I wanted to go in anyway to make sure they had the pumpkin treats. After a quick moving line and the lady behind me calling in late for work because "My son had something at his school with 4-H, that's why I'm late..." Not because she was getting DD or anything. I ordered my food, I felt like I was ordering for two and the cashier kind of raised an eyebrow at me. C'mon! It was just a breakfast sandwich and 5 munchkins! I've ordered more at a DD without having a baby to blame! But anyway... with the luck of my tiny car I weasled out of my parking spot and zoomed into work, with plenty of time to spare.

I haven't felt this great in over a week, maybe two. I want to say a month but I know that's an exaggeration. I've also started drinking coffee again. That has helped mentally a lot. I'm starting to see why people stick to their chemical addictions while pregnant. Well, on my own level. I'm drinking the milky "cappuccino" drinks at gas stations and a Coolatta from DD. I'm trying to refrain from my black coffee addiction. I'm deluting my sweet nectar of life with milk to appease the low brow, finger pointing society that tells me no. It's also one cup a day as oppose to two cups while I get ready and then a huge to-go cup for my morning, or an entire pot on my day off. I also gave it up for two whole months. I was dying and after my rough week last week, I caved and had one cup of cappuccino from a gas station. For five whole minutes (the beginning of the cup) I was in the garden of eden, scampering through with all my birdy friends. No, seriously, I had a moment. I also feel that way when I satisfy a pregnancy craving. I only ate two of my five pumpkin munchkins before I felt too full to continue (They will be a great snack later) I bit into one of them and it was like my hair was being blown in the wind, and I just won a trophy for being the most awesome being in the universe. It's odd to feel that way about food or, well, anything in particular. I've always had a very grounded, quite cynical, view about all things in life. It seems silly for me to be all adolescent-christmas-morning happy about food.

"I feel like food rules my life now," I said to one of my just-had-a-baby co-worker.
"Just wait, it's about to get worse." She laughed, without even looking up at me.

Now on to the less cheery subject. I was called a baby killer on facebook by a stranger on a mutual friend's page. Originally this entire blog was going to be about being called such a horrible thing, by a "Christian" no-less. But alas, I had such a great morning I couldn't create a whole negative, ranting, blog. It just didn't feel right. But, seriously, I do need to address this. I made a tweet about it so now I feel I need to do my full disclosure. 140 characters can be taken so wrong.

The great abortion debate. Even the word abortion feels funny, it creates grime on it's way out of my mouth as I speak it. It lingers in the back of ones mind at the thought of being pregnant. It's whispered about and spoken of in harsh tones. Rumors are started about unsuspecting females in middle and high schools, "She had an abortion." Abortion has the same negative connotation as intended by the individual that called me a baby killer. It's a medical term that has been twisted and disfigured by the ignorant and religious alike. Just as a racial slur, if you use the word the way the "enemy" does, it still holds that power. Just for the sake of this blog, I'd like to keep it as an unbias medical term.
 

Please and thank you.

Obviously I'm pro-choice. Me saying I'm pro-choice is what got me called a baby killer. Even as I sit here pregnant and my belly swelling by the day (or hour, geez) I am still very strong in my pro-choice stance. People, men especially are ignorant to the idea of how a pregnant lady can be pro-choice. Simple, I chose to stay pregnant, just as some of my friends have chose not to be. That doesn't make me any better than them or them any better than me. Different people, different situations, different decisions. I'd be just as mad if there were laws trying to be passed saying I couldn't have a kid and my only option was to abort. That is not allowing me a choice. O wow, I'm probably blowing some minds right now. A pro-choicer wouldn't stand for all pregnant women to be required to abort. Who would'a thought?! But seriously, why the fuck to pro-lifers believe that? What makes them think that? Who thought it would be great for humanity to pass the word that everyone that is pro-choice goes to a clinic once a week to abort a late term fetus. Idiots, that's who. Yes, I said it, IDIOTS. Okay, now I'm the one name calling... but it's to prove a point. 

Personally, I mean me, just me, Beth.... you know, the chick that is typing out these words right now. Exclusively me, I wouldn't get an abortion if I could help it. Honestly, there has been a couple pregnancy scares in my life that I would've cleaned out my bank account to fix the issue but as it stands right now, at twenty-five, with a loving significant other... I couldn't imagine myself going through that. Three years ago, we'd have a different discussion. Also, I've never been pregnant before now to make that choice before so that also leaves that gap of understanding that most people can't get past. I, on the other hand, have been friends with various people in various points in their lives. Yes, I have been very close with individuals that have had that nasty abortion thing that all these christians keep spewing lies about. To be honest, before I had known someone before they confessed this deep, dark secret of theirs I had my own igorance when it came to abortion. "No way, no how! Nu-uh. If you get pregnant it's meant to be! You need to carry that baby and just give it up for adoption!"

That short-sighted, ignorant and detrimental opinion was chipped away within the second my nervous best friend, at the time, from across the table said, "I've had an abortion before." My whole opinion quite literally folded in half and hid behind the nearest large object.

"Huh?" was all I could muster.

"Yeah, my mom actually paid for it. I was in college and wasn't practicing very healthy habits. Was into some bad stuff with a bad boy. You know, the usual... in with the bad crowd get in to deep before you realize how shitty it is?"

"Oh." I responded, still wanting her to continue the story.

"As soon as I found out I drove the couple hours it took to get to my parent's house and cried to my mom. My life was over, I wouldn't be able to finish college and that scumbag would be a part of my life, my family's life, for the rest of our lives. After some long conversation we all pulled some money together and as shitty as it sounds, I'm glad it happened. That baby didn't need him as a dad and at the time, I couldn't offer that baby much of anything and no one was really willing to help."

"Wow." I know I had that deer-in-headlights look.

"It's not something I boast about or anything, I mean, I don't go around and tell whoever. But yeah, I'm just glad I had that choice, ya know? Without that choice I'd probably would've just killed myself. I mean, I was super depressed and doing bad stuff and the guy I was with was cheating on me probably the same moment I took that damn test. I was super bad off, mentally-- I wouldn't have made a good decision on my own. I would've rather died than put up with that stress for the rest of my life."  

Don't judge my friend. She is one of many that has gone through similar things and kept it private because of the judging you just did in your head. I also hope I kept her story vague enough because it really is only her business. As she was telling me her story I played it out in my head, but instead of seeing her, I saw me in her scenerio. I kept trying to think, "Just keep the baby anyway," but for her in her situation, I could easily see why she made the decision she did. I'm not Zeus, I'm not God, I'm not Santa-- I can't decide who should be struck by lightening and who should get the pardon. Those types of decisions aren't meant for other people, they are only meant for those in those situations at that time. No one else.

With that same sentiment, I'm glad I'm able to keep my baby and no one is forcing me to give it up. I, also, am glad we live in a country that doesn't regulate births. I want females to have the same power they always have, simple as that. It's exactly like equalizing marriage. If you don't want to marry someone of the same sex, don't. If you don't want an abortion-- don't get one. Don't stop someone from doing something in their lives because it conflicts with your personal views about your life. There are a shit-ton of people on this earth. If you are so busy trying to control others you are going to lead a very unfulfilled life.

Definition of KILLER

1: one that kills

2: killer whale

3 a : one that has a forceful, violent, or striking impact

b : one that is extremely difficult to deal with

On a side note, I want to point out that I have never met a baby killer. I'm sure if I have I would have reported their dead body to the police after I killed them myself, in a bloody Psycho-style rage. The image I have in my head of a "baby killer" is some terrible ogre of a creature that makes his rounds at hospitals stabbing unsuspecting new borns as they sleep, or cry, or poop... as babies do. Just google "body of baby found." Those people, to me, are baby killers. Not someone who makes a personal decision in a clinic early in their first trimester. So tell me, which outcome do you feel more comfortable? Because let me tell you, if abortion is banned, there will be more dead babies in ditches, woods and dumpsters all around the states for those that couldn't handle it all. Not everyone is rational and responsible enough or can even afford an abortion as is is... and you want to live with making that harder for unhappy, out of their luck, mentally unhealthy expecting mothers?

Just think about that.

Opinions are like ass holes...

Okay, Okay... so I was going to do this in-depth rant about why I'm boycotting Chick-Fil-A and blahblahblah. I've actually deleted people over the CFA crap because of how they stated their opinion on Facebook.

I also find it an odd connection that the most overweight people are the ones that are spamming their dying devotion to CFA...

Honestly, I'm already quite tired of the subject. I'm not going to eat there anymore. Got it. Done. Sealed deal. Hubby even agrees that we're going to stay away from the place and he's the most neutral person I know. My opinion of such is this: If CFA won't hire homos, us homos (and supporters) shouldn't give CFA any money. Also, every time you give that company money you are funding all of those anti-homo establishments he's donating to. It's not just his stance against equality that gets my blood boiling.

But all of that is beside the point of this blog. Opinions are opinions, okay? I have them, you have them, Obama has them and so does CEOs of major fast food chains. Everyone is entitled. Ninety percent of the time I let those opinions slide by me without even mentioning my side of it. I might even smile and give you a weak nod when I'd rather rip that opinion from your throat and shove it up your ass. [What? I can be violent in my head.] Well, then there is that ten percent of the time. That ten percent where I feel that not only your opinions may be hurting others but also isn't quite fair to those you might not even know. Equality is one of them. I'm quite passionate about equality and also my money. My money and my equality, we're BFFs... money, equality and I. I want to be able to put my money where I want, marry who I please and be myself. Those are my main goals in life. Now, that doesn't sound so difficult does it?

Then I read this on facebook:

"Why would I stop eating CFA, you're an idiot to think just because I eat there I'm against homos."

"You're a bunch of ignorant fools to think I'm going to stop getting my chicken on because of their CEOs opinions."

"Who gives a shit about this? I'm eating Chick-Fil-A for lunch today!"

Okay... so... I get it... you're going to eat there anyway. Uh-huh. Got it. Why call me names and say my opinion is idiotic just because you don't agree with it? Why is equality dumb to you? Is eating fast food TRULY that important to you that you couldn't give up ONE fast food joint because you're too consumed with their product that their opinions won't stop you from funding their efforts against your friends? Yes, these individuals that have stated similar things as above have close friends who are homosexual. I'm not only appalled but disgusted and quite frankly... hurt. I'm hurt that these people that I know, like, and called friend... would say these things. I deleted these people that made these similar statements. Not because of the one post about it, but because the constant berating against equality in the name of fast food.

I'm so sorry that your friends don't matter enough for you to pass up one fucking meal at a fast food place that will probably give you cancer anyway and will DEFINITELY increase your waist line.

I'm hurt to think that these people that I know are so proudly (and consistently) spamming their Facebook pages with images and words making fun of the people striving for the boycott idea. It's beating a dead horse. I do realize there is tons of propaganda out there right now that homos are pumping out left and right trying to get people to boycott CFA, that may seem like an abundance to you and it's annoying you as much as I am to the opposite. I understand that. I'm not saying keep your opinion to yourself, I'm just saying try not to be hurtful about it. There are teenagers killing themselves every day because not only their family but now strangers are publicly announcing their hate for their homo-ness. Okay, that sounded very, "Lets do this for the kids" but honestly...  

why the fuck not?

Middle Finger Thrown.

The problem with being a free thinker and someone who doesn't want to conform to the universal idea of how to get money... I find myself broke, extra picky about finding a job... and constantly turned down because of my tattoos.

Okay, so technically I haven't been turned down directly about my tattoos but I've applied to a job, got the interview and everything seems koshery-good until she brought up covering my tattoos. Okay, I get it, socially a lot of "suits" don't like their peons covered in ink. I got it but I don't understand it and I find it offensive. I, of course, didn't let the interviewee know all that. I smiled and promised to cover my tattoos as needed. None of my tattoos are out-rightly offensive (Unless you don't like Disney movies, non-expletive poetry or find flowers and stars the bane of your existence.) I also have my lip pierced but haven't had a lip ring in just because I'm lazy. I often forget I have tattoos. Not because I feel they are unnoticeable... just because I don't feel like they define me. My tattoos are equivalent to make up to me, I just can't wipe them off and they don't smear when I cry. It's like your favorite necklace you don't take off, mine is just poked deep into my skin tissue. So... how would you feel if you went for a job interview and they liked everything you  had to say and finished up with a squinted expression, "Everything seems great... except that necklace. Can you tuck it in or cover it up while you're on our time? That'd be great, thanks. We just don't want others influenced by your ideas of beauty, that's all." I feel like they're asking me to put a bag over my head.... Who says a white girl never gets judged by her skin?

I get asked, "Would you have tattoos if you had realized it would cause people to prejudge you, especially in a job setting?"
My answer: "Yes."

That's my short answer, anyway. Yes. Yes, I would cover my skin in beautiful markings. No, I don't give a fuck if that means certain jobs won't take me. I don't want them, back! Yeah, take that! Middle finger thrown. Yeeeeaaaahh, I'm mature and stuff.

Sigh. Okay, so it does bug me. I really think I didn't get the job I got an interview for because of the manager's disgust with tattoos. So now I'm trying to find non-mainstream-esk jobs. So far I'm finding non-degree counselor for disgruntled and/or mentally-disturbed kids, middle man for placing exchange students and nanny for hire. I don't really want to work in a kitchen although working in Louisiana and working my way to Sous Chef in a creole kitchen sounds like a life-goal. I am also thinking of applying to Daiquiri bars.

But anyway. I am feeling this intense need to flex my music muscle. I want to get back into a music theory class. I want to learn the scales and be able to just pick them up from nowhere. I want to do something with that knowledge somehow. It may be all the coffee talking-- but I want to get a headache over sheet music and correct the wrong scale in a piece of music. I want to be able to visualize in my head the correct flow of tunes no matter what instrument is being played. I'm getting rusty and I don't like it. I feel like a has-been of what never was.




Also, all of my "dream job" ideas tend to return with little to no money.

Figures.

"I don't want to be ANYTHING like any of your exes!!!"

Augh, okay...

So, I'm a girl. Duh. But I must state that for very obvious reasons-- Girls have irrational ideas sometimes. (CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!)

Not wanting to be anything like your current's previous significant others is quite the irrational idea. It's also one that I am quietly struggling with. I'm struggling because I can see the rational side of it.

I'm getting married soon. Also, duh. One thing about marrying one of your close friends is you can recall how ever many years worth of previous significant others they dated freely in front of you. It was shameless because there was only a platonic relationship between you and whoever they brought around. (Well, at least in our case) I knew these girlscoughwomen that he dated before me. I spoke with them, they sought my approval and sized me up accordingly. I have never been intimidated by them and apparently that's intimidating. I, in some cases, got more into their brain than Hubby did. (It's a girl thing) I became their frienemy and got to know them. I remember picking them apart, quite often finding similarities between them and I. Sometimes it was unsettling how my likes were their likes and my hobbies were their hobbies. But then again, a lot of Hubby's likes were my likes and a lot of his hobbies were my hobbies.

Obviously things would stack with who he chose to date as well. Again with the duh

Now that I am romantically involved with him my angsty twelve year old hormonal self can't help but peck at my brain with all the usual paranoid ideas. If you are even slightly aware and female (Or male, I guess?) you know what I'm talking about. Those paranoid ideas just bubble up from within and you have to mull over them and shoot them down or address them aloud if they feel justified enough. Also, getting married isn't child's play. Marriage is not taken lightly by me and my relationship with Hubby is very much adult. I've known him long enough I was more than aware of who I was getting myself involved with. (Translation: My qualms in this post have nothing to do with him directly, I also know he religiously reads my blog, so I have to put that out as clear as possible. This is me just being a vagina.)

But anyway, I know a lot of girls feel this way. Correct? The whole: "I'm nothing like his exes, I don't even see what he saw in them!" Yeah, that. Well, ladies, I'm sorry to break it to you but that is quite irrational. Although I do want to say that all cases are different and you very well may be in one of those glorious "I'm completely unique to those of their past" things. Let me break it down.

People tend to stick with what they know:
If they grew up around intellectual types they will tend to date college graduates or someone with a prestigious career. If someone grew up primarily around a specific race or creed they will tend to date someone of that religion or skin color. If they reallyreally loved their mother or father they will tend to date someone resembling them. Or if they really hated their mother or father they will tend to date those that resemble nothing of them. That's the same with those that have a passion for something and they tend to surround themselves and date others with that common passion.

People tend to date what they like:
If they like poets, they will primarily date poets. If they would prefer red headed gym fanatics, they will stick as close to that as possible... Let's say Person A dates 10 people in their life time. Person A is a guitarist that prefers blondes that are also artistic in some way and loves dogs. It's safe to say Person A had 7 out of 10 that have lighter colored hair; likes dogs and either plays an instrument or does some sort of artwork either as a job or a hobby. Sounds logical to me.

If you've dated "it" before and loved/hated "it", then you will/won't date "it" again:
"It" being something: a trait, a hobby, a defining character of someone. Think: "I dated that guy Jake and he loved to go to the gym. I think it mellowed him out otherwise, so now I dig guys that go to the gym." So then you tend to date athletic people. Athletic people appeal to you. No shame, right? In that same way: "I dated this red headed chick Sarah and she was such a bitch and made all my friends don't want to be around me anymore if she was around. I refuse to date a girl named Sarah or red heads. She was a teacher too, no more teachers for me!" Same idea but on the negative instead of positive. Either way you are getting specific about the type of person you want to get romantic with. Also, no shame.


To the core I seem to reflect Hubby's taste in women. Visual appearances aside, I share a lot of their likes and hobbies as well as some of their personal/political views on things. Which makes sense. Being a vagina about it is letting that leave a nasty taste in my mouth and make me feel like a blow up doll with a common filling.

Since I am being a positive thinker and adult: I like to think of me being all the best qualities he found in previous girls all wrapped up in his favorite shaped box.... with my unique quarks and neurotic habits thrown in!

This theory works in both directions too, ya'know.

I want both.

Ten days. One Zero. Ten. Ten days and I get to wake up next to him, cuddle him during a thunderstorm and nag him when I'm feeling bitchy. Sigh I cannot wait! I can tell that he's excited too, since his smiles are bigger on Skype as of late.

"You're going to miss those babies!"
I keep hearing from... well... everyone. It's true too. The twins I babysit have quickly become my entire life. My reason to get up in the morning, my smile when I feel like crying as well as my hair-pulling, snotty nosed cry babies when I'm already at my wits end. They cry when I walk out of a room, they make me feel needed.... they snuggle me close when they're feeling bad. I'm going to miss those little bobble heads like no other. It's not just the twins though, I'm going to miss their older sister, their mom, their dad, their Mama C and PawPaw. All of them. This family has been with me through the thick and thin. They have given me a place to stay when no one else wanted me. This family has given me a job when I was scraping by at a sandwich shop. This family has done absolutely everything for me, without hesitation, without asking for anything in return. Leaving them breaks my heart. I can't help but cry at the idea of leaving them at all much-less in need. The boys are still too young for daycare and too expensive to have in daycare, anyway. The boys don't like strangers but they took to me the first time I met them. Their older sister asks if I'm out of the house for longer than twenty minutes. I feel more apart of this family than I have any family, ever. Yes, even my own. They accept me for who I am and always wish me the best. They have showed me unconditional love (Not required by blood relation) and now I have my chance at also creating a family of my own. It's the dilemma of a life time. I've tried not to think about it. BFF (The twin's mom) and I don't speak about it... It's the elephant in the room that no one wants to acknowledge. I worry about them thinking I'm abandoning them. Is it too selfish to leave now? But staying hurts too. I feel like I'm happy with a thorn in my side. It's like gnawing my arm off to live another day. I want both things equally. To stay and be apart of this family and to go and start my own with someone who I've always had a very strong emotional attachment to.

I want both.

I want both.

I want both.

I've been going through the motions since I got back from my short visit to Louisiana. Sometimes I'm in the moment [with normal every day routine] and I'd think, "I've got to remember this, take a picture, cherish it... I'm about to move" and it still wouldn't feel real. As I'm nearing the single digits on my countdown, the realization has settled heavy somewhere in my pelvic region. (You know, where IBS lives.) I feel like it's a backpack when I run, a fly in my ear as I play with the boys and a heavy beating drum when I'm hanging out chatting with BFF. I don't feel doubt in wanting to live and be with Hubby, I feel guilt for being happy. Does that make sense? How can I be happy about something that will be taking me away from this new family that has stood by me for so long? Guilt because I've lost friends along the way and it doesn't bother me. Guilt because I'm so happy and quite frankly, I'm not sure I care who I lose in the process. (Well, accept the twins and their family. Everyone else can go fuck themselves for all I care.) Hubby means that much to me.... I hear that's suppose to prove you do have real love. The fact that the ones that matter supports us the most seems to be the shining factor.

This isn't a thinking decision, this is a decided matter. It's finally sunk in. It's real. This isn't a fantasy anymore. This isn't a day dream on a hot summer day in Greensboro... or a last thought before drifting off to sleep in the middle of winter....

This is real.

Holy shit, is it real.

To Whom it May Concern:

It has come to my attention that my sexuality is the definitive of who I am [when it comes to other people.] Not only do I find this offensive; I have spent days contemplating the proper way to address this when I feel like I should never have to.

I date girls-- I'm wrong and going to hell. How dare I be public and proud about such a disgraceful way of life!

I marry a guy -- since I'm not ashamed or secretive about it I must be a liar and everyone around me should question anything I've said to them in the last four years.

Obviously, both assessments are horribly incorrect. I, personally, don't see my relationship as anyone's immediate business.. Or the main factor of my entire existence, for that matter. I have so many contributing factors in my life. Ive always been my own person. I do not define myself through who I am with or have been with.

"But you put it all over Facebook"
No, I put that I am happy and give credit where it is due. That's all I feel I am doing. Why do some individuals feel I am rubbing it in their face? That is truly not my intent.

I post about 10% of my life on the Internet-- that's combining this blog, twitter and Facebook. That's a whole 90% that I don't let you fuckers in on... And guess what? Of that 10% I share with this huge world of digital high school: everything is vague and purely self-involved... Which I guess knocks that 10% down to about 6%.

Yes, I said self-involved. I don't say anything that is not my business (especially if it doesn't involve me at all.)

With that said, I have also deleted a bunch of people, pictures and information from my Facebook. I haven't posted a play by play of my day on any social media in quite some time.

I feel no need to explain myself to anyone. (Although I guess I kind of am) Even amongst all the backlash, I should feel no obligation to title myself under any sexual orientation. The person I date/marry knows how I feel about them and that's all that is relevant.

It isn't helpful to demand answers from me or put pressure on our relationship. If you know me at all why is it so difficult to just accept me as a person and be happy about me being happy? I'm not a deceptive person; I'm not out to hurt anyone nor am I trying to "pull a fast one." I'm in this relationship for all the right reasons: THAT is all that matters. It's not your place to be confused about my sexual preferences. I should not have to defend myself on this subject.

The Clean-Up

I arrived in my hometown at 3am yesterday morning, woke up around 7:30am and worked in my mom's yard until around 7pm. There is still a HUGE tree down in the backyard, but it's tucked behind the barn and isn't so bad. My uncle and cousin came out to help with the clean up. We hauled large limbs with rope and the fourwheeler. It was hardwork but still a lot of fun. We talked, joked and all got sunburnt together. I have cuts and scrapes all over.

That night we fired up the grill and had about a dozen people milling around the house, my mom is the only on in the extended family that still has power. My dad's mom had 4ft of flooding on her lower level where his sister was staying. (My aunt lost everything) They showed up to get some food and take a shower. The pained expressions on their faces was deeply creased in and you could tell they were distracted by what was waiting at home for them once they left my mother's powered, well-fed home.

The feast was supplied by the contents of my sister's fridge and freezer that is slowly going bad in coolers on the patio. My mom's fridge is stuffed to the brim, trying to save anything we can. I'm so well fed I can barely move. Out of the 3 different meat versions of burgers, chicken breasts and a rather large pork loin we grilled there was only one burger and a couple slices of pork loin left. Everyone was grateful for the opportunity to chow down in an air conditioned enviroment and my sister was happy that the food didn't end up in the trash. The local fire dept is giving away bags of ice and bottled water. We're using bottled water to make coffee, freezing them to keep the food in the cooler from spoiling and drinking them with gusto as we haul peices of nature out of our way.

I saw my mom mom's house for the first time today. It is devastating and she still has her house. So many have lost much more than she has, and it's still very painful to see. My grandmother has lost a barn and a couple 100yro+ trees... but we're all very grateful they fell away from the house and no one was hurt. I've only been as far as my parent's house and this entire neighborhood is trashed, there is a tree in someone's house 3 doors down, there are trees cut in the middle so you can travel on the road. There is a tree against the church I grew up in and downed powerlines everywhere. There is a group of five electrical vehicles going around working as a really large group to pushed erect the leaning powerlines and reconnect/mend the fallen lines.

My middle school is closed. Done. Finished. The flooding was too bad, they are saying if it does open it may be well after christmas due to repairs and replacing the floors and walls. It has to be gutted. (Everyone is 80% sure it will be condemned and have to be knocked over) Teachers are being shifted or losing their positions, they are splitting up the grades amongst the primary, highschool and elementry school buildings. There is absolutely no school for anyone until next tuesday. In the district I went to school in there are people who now have foundations of their houses and nothing else. They lost more than the contents of their fridge and a couple trees, they lost everything they've ever worked for.

Like I said, I have not gone that far in the county but just seeing my childhood neighborhood gives me an idea of how terrible it is farther down in the county. We've pulled together as a family and a community. My uncle who helped us clear my mom's yard up is being pulled in so many directions and is trying to handle the guilt of not being able to help everyone who asks him. His sidejob is lawncare and right now everyone wants his attention whenever possible. As we stood in my grandmother's yard, jagged tree limbs towering over us he spoke of feeling the weight of not being able to help everyone who has been asking him... he felt like he wasn't helping anyone at all. He didn't count cleaning up the yards of his family as help... that was just a given. Being able to clean up other people's yards, that was helping.

I know that deeper in the county will be a slow recovery but they will recover. I feel for them and hope them the best.... I also wish I had more than just words of encouragement for all of them.

I'm not broken, I'm refurbished.

The title of this blog came to me today while I was reading at a nearby coffee shop. Instead of doing the grown-up important errands I really should have been doing I decided to walk around my neighborhood instead. I'm a little over a mile from UNCG and they have some really amazing places on the way there that I've never been in.

I stopped at Spring Garden Bakery & Coffee and got an ice latte. (At a very reasonable price) I had never been there before. It was very quaint and awesome. A few of the summer college students trickled in while I read my book and slowly sipped my delicious latte. A very loving couple came in from the backdoor and I couldn't help but look up because I felt the guy was hovering over me (My peripheral vision isn't that great since I wear glasses) Turns out he had just paused with his hand extended out for his girlfriend so she could take it. I felt myself blushing just by the sight of the cuteness that was going on. (Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I can't appreciate affection between a man and a woman) She herself did a little "Awwww" noise as she took his hand. They took a seat next to me (if you have ever been there before it was the long bench seating with the small tables and chairs opposite of the bench) and sat on the same side to watch whatever was going on on the laptop they had with them. I wasn't exclusively paying attention to their conversation since I was reading but a little bit of it slipped in between page turns and it just made me very happy. They put me in such a good mood and they never even glanced my way. As I sat beside them I tweeted, "I'm not broken, I'm refurbished" because at that moment I knew that as a broken individual (which I have been many times before) I wouldn't be able to stomach the love and good vibes just dripping off the couple. I'm so glad they sat as close as they did because their good intentions and love creeped into my soul and gave it a big ole hug.

That is also the same reason why I can't stand to be around negative people, because the same thing happens to me... but the outcome isn't so positive or happy. I also seem to "feel" right past the bullshit because I can sense what you are actually saying rather than the words that are being said to me. Not saying it's 100% but it hasn't failed me yet. (Well, when I actually listen to what my feelings are telling me)

I then walked down to Jack's Corner for some Falafel. It was sooooo good. I sat by myself and continued to read, it was very packed but I was still buzzing from the coffee shop. I thought about my most recent romantic encounters on the walk home. When I think of my "happy place" most of the time I find myself gazing into past love's eyes. It's kind of sad to still find happiness in the eyes of another... but it's the last time I really felt completely whole. Not just because of her, but because of me. It felt so right and so spiritual to be the way I was with her to start out. Since then it's gone to shit, but that's not the point. Currently I'm struggling with the idea of how I am to find happiness. I find happiness through others, just as I did at the coffee shop. My goal now is to not get drunk by it and get lost in it. I need to be able to acknowledge it; embrace it, keep it and find the balance.

The realization of me needing someone to keep me 'grounded' did become very apparent as well. I'm usually attracted to those that aren't as crazy as I am. I need someone with a successful career and will be able to just sit around and watch movies with me on a Friday night... or convince me not to drink another one while we're out with friends. But with that said, I want someone who is willing to do stupid shit with me and deal with the consequences head on. Go to a concert with me to see a band they've never heard of (Or take me to a band I've never heard of) Talk about EVERYTHING and anything with me but still keep their own secrets theirs and allow me the same. I need someone willing to let the past be that and not pry into mine unless I offer it.

I know these are all "my perfect woman" ideals, but I'm still very much entitled to them and will use them as guides, not stipulations.

My biggest pet peeve is when I meet someone (usually a hetero-male) that has such ideas of who they want their wife or girlfriend to be and get angry when someone doesn't live to their specific criteria.

News Flash: Love comes from unexpected places, don't deny it because you're too focused and closed minded about what you BELIEVE it should be.

Love is love, nothing else.

If you deny someone the opportunity to love you just because s/he doesn't have the right college degree or "wrong" color hair... you don't deserve the opportunity to love. (Just saying)

But to leave on a positive note, I have linked the places I have mentioned as I have mentioned them. (scroll over their names and get with the clicking!) And I am also going to post a pre-dated blog about my birthday and the happenings that well, happened. I wrote them down the next day at work but haven't had the time to type them out yet.... so keep an eye out for that too.

Blessed Be,
SallyD