Wednesday Night Status

I started working on my first knitting project of the season. It's a sock for my CPAP tubing. I'd crocheted one a few years back, but it is cumbersome and misshapen.  The knitted one, while fugly because I used old bit of yarn, is far lighter and a better length. I also macramed ties for it, so I can control how tight I make the ends. 

Misshapen is an awkward word.  I think when I read it in my head, half the time it comes out Miss Happen.  Don't even ask what I thought of macrame. 

I continue, in my no-attention span meow meow kind of way, to read through GRRM. It's an easy read, but I have a disco ball for a brain half the time. I've decided it isn't a fantasy novel at all. It's a horror novel set in a fantasy world.  This actually lets the books make more sense. Well, plus there are the Others out there. 

I finished watching the second generation of Skins last night. The first of it kind of annoyed me, but it ended well. It ended horrifically, though not in the same way the first one did. 

To that end, I'll leave this brief post with a tribute video.  This tribute is so well done it could have BEEN the video to this song. Placebo's "Meds" and Skins 1's Cassie. What a combo.

Social Construction: The Five Year Theory

I think a lot of our problems as social animals stem from this idea that we have to make really long term relationships with people. I think a lot of our other problems as social animals stem from the fact that we are forced to be around the other humans we don't want in our lives.

Think about it. Don't a lot of people's emotional worries come from either the idea of finding long term relationships OR from being around annoying people all the time? Both concepts are extremely draining.

I think it would be really cool if that every five years, we were required to stop being around each other. Marriage end. Friendships dissolve. Jobs change. Locations change. Everything, everyone is different.

It's impractical and probably impossible, but there would be some nice benefits from it.  For one thing, if your relationships could only last for five years, you'd probably try and make the best of them. Instead of taking your lovers and friends for granted, you'd take the time to really get to know them, talk to them, make memories.

And for the people you didn't like, you'd find their soulsucking annoyance to be less horrible than it used to be. After all, you only have to put up with them for five years. Then you'd never have to see them again. Ever.

There would have to be some exceptions, of course. Clearly children would need more time with parents, though probably not a full 18 years living with them. And every once in a while, you'd find someone who was truly so amazing you would petition to be with them past the five years.

There could also be an evaluation at the end of the relationship. If people got too many negative marks from others, they could be restricted on who they got to associate with. That way, abusive people would face either rehabilitation or social isolation. Those who were just as annoying as fuck could be told so and offered a chance to take some classes to teach them to be less intolerable.

We could build a whole new educational market based on these classes. Stop Talking So Much 101. How Not to Annoy Others.  The Art of Conversation. From Passive/Aggressive to Decent Person. How to Overcome Being Boring.  Entertaining Yourself and Others.

I think people would become more self-reliant too.  Knowing that everyone would be leaving their lives after five years would help them to see how important it is to find your own interests and your own hobbies. Considering everyone else would be transient, you would be the only constant in your life.

Of course I know a lot (of all four of you) are assuming this is just typical Blackhaired Barbie commitment phobia and jadedness, but I honestly don't mean it that way.  Just look around you, consider the people in your life.  If most of them had walked away after five years, where would you be now? How much stress would you not have from the relationship?

See, I told you it was a good idea.

The Facepalming of the Gods

So Bachmann says a lot of stupid shit. I think if I tried to blog over all of it, I'd be blogging 24/7.  Someone please get this woman better handlers. It's embarrassing. Seriously, I think even people who hate her cringe in embarrassment over the stupid that shoots from her mouth.

Recently she made some comment about how the earthquake and then the hurricane were god's wrath or wakeup call or something. Then she claimed she was joking.

As a side note, that is SUCH a bitchy meangirl trick. "OH MAH GA, your hair looks SO bad today! Hahaha, just kidding! Ya didn't take that SURIOUSLY did you?"

Joking or not, we all know this type of statement has been made forever. It's like the common rhetoric of the quasi-religious-wanna-control-you crowd.  No matter how advanced our meteorology or other sciences, no matter how much we try to educate people, anytime the weather DOES STUFF, someone or many someones has to claim it's because of some god's wrath. Yes, even now. Even in 2011.

This idea is both narcissistic and insane.

It's narcissistic because it's based on the idea that the actions of humans dictates what happens with the weather.  Do we have an affect on the weather? Certainly.  However, storms don't happen because people decide to sin. Floods don't happen because people played Grand Theft Auto instead of reading some holy book.

Storms happen because they need to, because that is what the weather has to do at that time to remain stable. In fact, we'd all be far more fucked if we didn't have storms.

And yes, these storms can be devastating to people and their homes.  This is horrible and rough on them. It can be scary as hell, expensive, sad, and sometimes fatal. But no god did this to punish you.  No god did this to hurt you, any more than I'm trying to punish micro-organisms that live on my skin when I kill billions of them as I shower.

Simply put, weather can be horrible on us, but the weather didn't happen for that reason.

This theory is also insane because it creates this idea that people worship an abusive bastard god.

Because if the stuff I said before wasn't true and weather really was controlled by some god who was using it to punish people, why the fuck would anyone worship him/her/it?

Let's put this in perspective. Say the god is your spouse. Basically what you just said is, "I'm beaten up and I lost everything. I was terrorized for hours and I'm now homeless. I don't know when I'll be able to get back on my feet. This happened because I didn't obey my spouse, so they beat me up and burned down my house.  I'm not going to leave them though because I'm so scared they'll do it again . . . or do worse."

You wouldn't advise anyone to stay with that spouse, so why would you think you should tell people to keep worshiping this god? If the god you worship tortures and terrorizes people for disobeying, why would you stay with this god?

Because, if that is what god is . . . if god is some abusive parent who kills people just because they disobeyed, then we should all turn from this god.  We should all die and live it with no worshipers. It deserves none. It deserves to be alone.  A god, like any human, who is just bad tempered and violent, deserves to be alone.

Bachmann claims she's a Christian. I'm not exactly sure she knows what that word means, but if she does, there is a better and far more true message she could have given about Irene. She could have said something like "I know the storms are horrible and devastating to people. Everyone is scared and wondering what will come next.  I hope you find comfort in those moments.  I hope you feel someone holding your hand. I hope the rescue workers locate the lost. I hope the power holds, so we don't have to brave this in the darkness. I hope we come together as a people and help out those in need."

Comfort. Strength. Charity. A light in the darkness. These are a far better witness. I hope her heart opens up and she realizes this. I hope her mouth stays closed until she's really thought through what she's going to say. I also hope people see past the isolation religion seems to want to cause these days and that we all found our common ground.

Sunday Thoughts

Wow, I didn't post last night. Then again, I spent most of the evening telling a dear friend a dark secret, so maybe posting just wasn't in the cards for me.  I should get my cards out and see if that's truly the case.

The weather's been playing wet and nasty lately. Nothing compared to what's happening on the East Coast, but unpleasant.  Still, every day we're seeing a drop in the temp, especially at night. Hopefully my Magical Autumn will be here soon.

I should point out that the cats have been interesting this summer. Normally, they hide from us when things get too hot, or just hang out on the edges of the rooms. Well, either that or they hang out in between fans, usually in the way of everyone.  But that's the nature of cats.

This summer though, they've been quite friendly. Even Crazy Cat has been in the living room on the more hot days, and the others were in here constantly.  They've also wanted a lot of attention, insisting on their heads being petted and on belly rubs. This has been quite nice, even if it means sometimes hot furry cat is laying on me whenever I don't have the AC running.

I've been thinking of more concepts that need words for them. For instance, there should be a word for that emotion of annoyance you feel when someone you don't like announces they're going to have spawn more children.  Yes, that emotion needs a name.

Anyway, my week will hopefully be low key.  It needs to be, I think. Some peace and quiet would be nice.  Hell, I think we all need that.

As She Watched the Soldiers Run from the Horse, She Thought Gleefully of her City's Demise

I love English, but I think we need to expand it. As fully complex as our language is, there are still concepts that could use just one word or a nice short phrase to explain the emotion they create.

The funny thing is, these are emotions that we quite often feel, but tend to express in generic terms. Disappointment. Vindication. Frustration. Yes, these words are good, but sometimes an emotion is very precise to a situation.  In these cases, there should be a special word or phrase to explain it.

Recently, my best friend and I were talking about a situation where she had been discovered to be correct about something after months and months of being disbelieved. Somehow we got off onto that moment when you realize everyone knows you're right and were right all along. They also realize they've been assholes about it. And it makes you feel so GOOD. That needs a word.

Is it vindication? Well, it is, but there is so much more to it than that. I asked my friend to describe what the word should be and she opted instead for a phrase.

By god, I fucking TOLD YOU SO, motherfucker motherfucker!!"

She said there needed to be two "motherfuckers" because one just wasn't enough.  There were also usually other people involved in the doubt. An additional "mother fucker" should be added for each of them.

It's like on movies (horror, creature feature, disaster, etc.) how there is usually this one person who is fully and intelligently aware that DOOM is approaching.  They saw the ghosts or aliens or read a report about the planet or have degrees and brains or overheard something or got knocked across the room by a possessed person. They try to warn people, but no one listens.

Actually, if they're lucky, no one listens.  Often, they're treated as crazy and are just ignored. This is actually the less horrible fate for them. Other times, they're accused of things and put in prison or shot. Then the thing they warned everyone about happens.  They may act humble when people tell them how they were correct the whole time, but inside they're thinking: By god, I fucking TOLD YOU SO, motherfucker motherfucker!!"
As my roommate and I discussed earlier today, it would actually be funny to, for once, see one of these people just stand back in joy, watching as their predictions are playing out and no one is safe but them.

Anyway, this is our word for the day. Well, it's our word or phrase. Or rather, it WILL be. Once we decide what that word should be called. I can't wait to see what we dream up.

Sleeping near the Heart

Assuming there is no sudden heatwave to show up and ruin my plans, I should be returning my mattress and myself to my room tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to this. It feels like it's been forever. I feel displaced in my own home.

I am, however, very thankful for the living room welcoming me and allowing me to use it as a sleeping room. Somehow I suspect that's a tad below the dignity of a living room. However, I suppose in this case, the living room is used to it.

When I was a freshman in college, my grandfather was in the last stages of a battle against emphysema. I opted to commute my second semester because I knew I was needed at home. He took care of all most all of the outside activities. My grandmother hadn't shopped in years, had possibly never paid a bill. Though, to be honest, I'm not sure if that's true. It's what she told me, but I think maybe she let herself forget.

When he died, she moved into the living room and began sleeping on a love seat.  It had no sides, so she pulled an ottoman over to her to keep her feet from hanging off the edge. She would sleep on her side, with her hands clasp together under her chin, as if in prayer.

When my second year began, I moved back to the college town with my best friend. Gran continued to sleep in the living room. She would keep sheets neatly folded on the top of the love seat, a pillow to one side.  Every night, she would unfold the sheets and transform the couch to a bed. Every morning, they would be refolded and replaced on the back.

The strange thing is, it had been years since my grandmother even slept in the same bed as my grandfather. As long as I could remember, they slept in separate rooms, as far away from each other as possible. The only time they were in the same bed was when they had guests and there was no room otherwise.  You could tell they were uncomfortable with it.

You never know what grief will do to you though. You never understand the patterns it will change or create, the way the deeper parts of your mind will find logic in things that, perhaps, the rest of your mind doesn't even comprehend.  Gran didn't know why she needed to sleep in the living room, but she did.

And I'm not even sure at what point she shopped.  All I know is that one weekend I came home and she was in the bedroom now.  Interestingly, it was the bedroom where my grandfather used to sleep. Now it was hers and would remain hers until the moment of her death. Actually, even a few hours after that.

I think my grandmother found comfort in sleeping in the living room. I think she felt it was the heart of the house and it was certainly the hearth of the house.  I think she needed to be in here to reclaim the home as hers.  Whatever the case, it seems to have worked.

And I understand. The living room has been my haven in this nasty heat.  It's keep me as comfortable as possible and like I said, I'm very grateful for that. Thank you, living room, for all the rest you've provided for me and mind. *kisses*

Imaginary Betrayal

Sometimes I love my imagination. In fact, like 99% of the time, it's like my favorite thing. During that other one percent, however, it really messes with me. Any time my imagination locks into my irrational fears, my life suddenly gets a bit batshit.

This happened the other night. I have this irrational fear of mice. My roommate is quite baffled by this. When the topic mice comes up, at some point, the following is said.

Roomie: But it is a MOUSE. Mice are tiny.
Me: What part of irrational are you not hearing?
Roomie: Itty bitty. You could step on it.
Me: OH MY GOD! And also, still, I would like to point out this isn't a rational fear. Plus, OH MY GOD at stepping on the mouse.
Roomie: Seriously, what could the mouse do?
Me: Irrational!

I realize everything he says makes total sense. I also know it doesn't matter. I'm still going to scream when I see a mouse. And that's only part of it.

However, I don't want any mice hurt. I just want them to peacefully live their lives far the hell away from me. So when I saw a mouse scamper across the room the other day, my roommate bought some humane traps that will contain the mouse, but not kill it. This is a wonderful thing and it will solve the problem.

The other night though, the whole mouse and mouse trap concept served instead to cause me problem. I was on my mattress which, as you will recall, is temporarily in the living room until the heat dies down. I was laying quite happily on my bed when I thought about the fact that the mouse trap wasn't really all that far away from me.

In fact, if the mouse ran into it, I could probably hear it. Which means I would have to take it outside and hope it doesn't do whatever stupid irrational thing I think it will do. What the hell even is that?

Do I think the mouse will explode and kill me?

Do I think it will suddenly become a hoard of mice and drown me in mice overabundance?

Do I think it will set me on fire? Arrest me? Shoot me dead?

Do I think the mouse will bite me with it's giant vampire mouse teeth? Okay, I maybe have reason for this one. When I was younger, a hamster bit me and wouldn't let go. Evil little fucker.

Anyway, irrational fear of mouse is now activated and I'm shivering in the bed . . . OH BUT THAT IS NOT ENOUGH!

Because then my mind, bastard that it is, begins to think about how snakes love to eat mice. So, quite possibly, which in Irrational Fear Mode, equals 100%, when I go to take the mouse outside and set it free, a giant snake will have its head stuck in the trap, trying to get at the mouse.

The snake will sense me with its Special Snake Sensing Powers and will SPRING from the trap and latch onto my eyeball and suck out my brains!

Which, again, irrational, but that's where fear and imagination were taking me.

Evil brain. May you be calmer tonight!

Progressness

It's been rather uncomfortable today.  It wasn't as hot as it had been, but it was humid as the inside of a mouth, making the air thick and nasty.  We turned the AC on, and somehow it just managed to make it cold. When we turned it off, however, suddenly we were back to being inside the Mouth.  Nasty.

Despite this, I had a small victory today. I clean the cats' litter box every afternoon. Said box is in the utility room, which is more or less almost the back of the house. Since we moved here, I would always roll a kitchen chair into the utility room and sit while I changed the litter.

This made it easier on me physically, but it wasn't without issues. Said kitchen chair, which is somewhere between 1000 and 7000 years old, has a wheel that likes to fall off. It doesn't always fall off, but it happens often enough to be annoying. We've tried fixing it like a billion times now, but have managed to only maintain it instead of truly fixing.

A while back, when I decided to start making some small but important changes in my life, I opted to stop rolling the chair to the utility room every day. I still roll it and sit if I have to do a lot of stuff back there, but for just the "clean litter box" part, I opted to walk back there and stand while I scooped.

It hasn't been easy, especially not as it grew hotter. I found a way to pace myself though. I would walk to the kitchen and sit as long as I needed to, gain my strength, and then walk to the utility room. Yes, I realize to many of you, this sounds pathetic. However, keep in mind that I'm coming from a state of being not that mobile.

Today, when I walked out of the bathroom, my roommate was sitting in the kitchen chair working on something. I spoke to him and walked to the utility room without pausing, cleaned the box, and then walked to the kitchen, pausing to pick a couple of things up off the floor.

I didn't really think about it as I was doing it. I just did it. Was I in pain by the time I sat down? Yes. God, yes. However, I still managed to do all of this without rest, I even kept my breathing steady enough to speak as I did it.

This is a major accomplishment for me. A HUGE accomplishment. It shows my strength is building. I'm gaining mobility.  This means I'm gaining more independence and freedom.

And . . . now I'm crying a little bit. That's okay though. It's a good cry. Hopefully I can keep moving forward with this.

Even if it is just a little bit at a time.

An Open Letter to the Critics of Feminism

Dear Critics of Feminism,

It seems that every day I hear you or read about you or watch you on TV spouting off your babble about us womenzfolk and our crazy want for being treated with dignity. In our society, it's somewhat of a sport to criticize and blame women for things, so I guess there isn't any reason for you not to take the easy road.  In fact, most of the time, I can manage to ignore you.

Except . . . there are two points on which I cannot ignore you, because when you say them (which is damned often), it makes me stabby.  Also, when you say them, no one ever seems to give you a reply. So, in the spirit of sharing, I'm going to reply to you now.

One of your most common criticisms is that things in our society have gone to hell since women "started working." By "everything in society," you tend to mean anything that you can somehow relate back to someone's childhood. Educational rates being lower, childhood obesity, crime rates, divorce, poverty . . . you get the idea. Anything.

Your thesis is that when women were in the home raising their children, cleaning rooms, preparing meals, and men were out working, things were better. In fact, you seem to have this Leave It to Beaver idea about how life was back then.

You see though, the problem with your idea is that, very simply, women have always worked.  That's right. Women have always worked. Women cleaned other people's houses or had small businesses or harvested fields or worked as waitresses or any other number of things.  It is only a very small percentage of very well off women who didn't work.  Even then, these women had many duties outside the realm of children and household.

The rest of the women worked their asses off.  They had to.  Often, they did this work with babies on their backs or with small children playing nearby so they could watch them. They worked while pregnant. They worked after being raped. They worked as soon as they could after recovering from physical violence. Always.

Working for women isn't new.  Working for a decent wage is and it still isn't as good as it should be.  But working? That always happened. And you know what? People turned out okay.

However, and this is the big however, as much as the "society is fucked up because of Feminists" thing pisses me off, it is no where near as annoying as the other point I wish to address.

Yes, oh yes, the other argument you always make against Feminists goes something like this, "and women have had all this freedom for a while now and so what have they done with it? How have things become better?"

And now I shall tell you how things have become better.  I was not forced and or subtly forced to find a husband. I lost my virginity when I saw fit. I have access to birth control. I can be paid (somewhat) decently for a job. When I speak, I am taken seriously. I own my car. I can own a house. I get to decide what happens with my money. I have my own bank accounts. I get to decide what goes on with my body. I am educated and can gain more education if I see fit. I can dress how I wish and buy what I wish.

That is how things have become better since Teh Feminism.

Oh. Wait, that was all about me, wasn't it? Did that miss the mark of your statement? Were you referring to how the society or the world or YOU have benefited from Feminism? OH hmm . . .

Wait. . .

That's right. I don't give a fuck.

You see, Feminism isn't about how women can now have other ways to make the world better. Oh, it can have that aspect, and usually does, but what is most important is how it benefits each individual, how it opens up things for people, singular people, to better their own lives.

You have this presumption, which stems, by the way, from your patriarchal pov, that if women are doing something or being part of something, it has no value unless it benefits The Group. You seem to think that it's somehow not enough that women can live their lives independently.  You believe that they have to therefore achieve other things, that benefit society, that make you and your world better.

Really, what you are saying, is that unless women are somehow making things better for you, feminism has no real value. And that, dear critic, is the flaw in your thinking. We don't have to do a damned thing for you. Not one damned thing at all.

I hope that cleared this up for you.

Cheers and apple sauce!

BHB

Put that Titty Up: A Discussion of Modesty

I never leave the house unless I'm covered.  Okay, sometimes when it's really hot I'll wear shorts.  Also during the hot, I may venture outside in a tank top and shorts.  Most of the time, however, I'm in pants, usually a longer shirt with a highish neckline. I wear black shoes.  During the cooler months, my arms and even often my hands are covered.  To all appearances, I dress very modestly.

However, I'm the least modest person in the world. I write a blog and talk about sticking tampons in myself. I will discuss anything with anyone. I'm bold, brazen, and well, ME.

As a very good friend recently put it, personal modesty is just a state of mind. As for all other forms of modesty, I find that to be more of a cultural control mechanism. Modesty is a way we try to single women out as The Other and pass judgement on her behavior.

It's a topic I've come to again and again over the years, but recently brought to mind due to this blog post.  I think the fact that the author realized that religion objectifies women's bodies in the same way that the porn industry can is both enlightening and brave.  But if you read the comments, a lot of people don't buy what he's selling. They seem to try and believe it, but really can't.

It comes down to the age old problem of how people place blame for lust.  People want to blame women for the lust men feel, instead of men taking responsibility for their own emotions, desires, and reactions. "Oh! Let's cover up the womenz and the menz will be good." This is such bullshit. We've known it's bullshit for centuries. Yet we cling to the idea.

First of all, people are responsible for their own desires. You can feel lust or anger or whatever, but how you respond to it is your choice. No one else's. Yours. I don't care how many religions state otherwise, the sight of cleavage does not make someone pull their dick out of their pants.

More importantly though, and I think this is the vital aspect of this whole modesty garbage, YOU CANNOT CONTROL OR CONTAIN SEXY.

You see, sexy is a force of nature, a kind of magic we all possess to a greater or lesser extent.  For those of us who have very little, it doesn't matter if we cover up completely or wear nothing . . . . we still won't be sexy.  If we dress skimpy, we just look like desperate and awkward people trying to call attention to themselves. This isn't sexy.

For the people who possess sexy in abundance, again, modesty does not matter. Sexual magnetism can't be covered up.  If you put a woman who is naturally sexy in a burka, she doesn't come off as nonsexual. She comes off as mysterious and sexy.  If you put a naturally sexy man in a priest's collar, he doesn't suddenly become out of bounds. He becomes the biggest temptation you've ever had.

Being sexually attractive isn't just for the beautiful people. In fact, it rarely is. You will find ugly people who are sexy, disfigured people who are sexy, very fat people, very skinny people, old wrinkledy people,  and even people who are the plainest of the plain who shine with sexuality.

Natural sexiness is a matter of chemistry, confidence, and body language.  It's about voice control, breath control, and presence.  It isn't something you can hide and it certainly isn't something you can fake.

Truth be told, I think a lot of the problem from modesty Nazis stems from the fact that they know it can't be faked. For all the zealots out there wanting no one to sin, I bet there are ten times as many people agreeing with them . . . because they hate the idea of people being sexier than them. Jealousy and envy has probably driven more   "scarlet women" to their deaths than what the ultra-religious thought.

And you know what, jealous and fundie people? It still didn't change anything. It just made you murdering assholes.

Like I said in the beginning, I walk out the house covered.  Very few people will ever see me uncovered. This is how I choose to be and it doesn't affect my level of sexiness at all. As for everyone else, how they dress should be their choice.  If you don't want to dress that way, don't.  If you don't like the way they dress, don't look. Beyond that, it's out of your control. Or it should be.

Friday List: Crap at which I Should be an Expert By Now

Okay, so I'm in my late 30s. There are some things I've been doing for a long damned time now and I should be really good at doing them. But I'm not. I suck at them just as much as I always have, if not more.  So, in random order, these are some things I should do well, but don't.

1. Tampons.

I started my period as a very young teen. Granted, I didn't use tampons at first, but I did after a while. Putting in tampons should be a very easy, almost automatic action for me now.

OH BUT IT IS NOT!  I screw up putting in the tampons probably about three times as often as I do it right. The thing slips out of the applicator.  It bites me.  It goes in at some hurtful angle.  Or, you know, any number of other stupid things that can happen.

I think what frustrates me about this the most is that it isn't like tamponing is some needless activity for me.  It's basically necessary in the given moment and instead of it just happening, I have the added frustration of whatever random chaotic thing is going to happen in the process. Leave to me to be unable to manage the simple act of sticking something in my twat.

2. On a related note . . . well, at least on a related theory, I have trouble with USBs.  I have things that have to recharge on my USB drives.  You'd think I'd be able to just reach down and set the whole thing up.

BUT NO!  I always miss the slot.  Or have the damned thing upside down. Or both. And for some illogical reason, even when I turn the damned thing over, it still seems to be upside down. How does that happen? There are only two choices.

3. Painting my nails.

Have I talked about this one before? Or maybe even this whole subject? Oh well, I'm like 200 blog posts in. I can't remember everything.  Anyway, I can't paint my nails for shit. I keep them short and all I want is a nice even coat of black polish.  What do I get? Black goopy crap all over my cuticles and only somewhat on my fingernails. Right hand always looks a million times worse than my left.

4. Spelling.

My spelling is so horrible.  I write all the damned time and read almost as much, but if you looked at an unedited version of my writing, you'd think I was close to illiterate. I don't visualize WORDS in my head. I see pictures and colors and other images. Never the way the word is spelled.

The spelling thing is something I'm really paranoid about.  I won't even post a damned status update on Facebook without triple checking it. OH! And if I still miss something, I delete the damned thing as quickly as possible and hope frantically no one sees.

5. Paying Attention to the Details of Accepted Reality

I mostly live in my reality.  And I'm not talking about the stories in my head, I'm talking about my little version of reality and how things are named and said.

For instance, my roommate and I tend to call characters on shows whatever we first associate them with and not by their name.  There is an actor on a show whom we used to watch on a show where he danced. Or, okay, where he tried to dance.  In fact, the name we gave him, due to his dancing style, was Hamster Dance.

So when he joined the cast of this other show, I always denoted the character as Hamster Dance. Oh look, Hamster Dance is running his mouth again. Hamster Dance killed the bad guy. Hamster Dance is talking to the boy genius.

I think I watched that show like three years before I ever noticed the character had a name that wasn't Hamster Dance.

Okay, I will tell you now, this list could have gone on for days!  There are so many things that fall into this category.  I guess that's okay though. It keeps me humble, kind of, and that means I get to have friends.

Self-Observations, Which are Both Current and Random

Sometimes I think it's a good idea to take a step back and look at your brain, just to see what's going on. Oh, and I guess look at the other parts of you as well. So here are some current happenings in the BHBverse.

• My brain has been singing old NES video game songs to me. Not Zelda, oddly, but a lot of the other ones. This should probably annoy or worry me, but it's actually kind of amusing.
• I've been obsessing about Alexander the Great again to the point where I'm pretty sure it's love.  I must have been one of his boyfriends back in the day.
• I've also had this huge paranoid streak. Or okay, more so than usual.  In fact, today a bunch of stuff that could have potentially gone wrong went very, very right and it's making me so paranoid I almost don't want to talk about it.
• I'm really upset with myself and the other circumstances that made it impossible for me to go to my cousin's wedding. I keep looking at all the pictures and almost crying.
• I'm also rather obsessed with Fever Ray's wolf songs.  Okay, I'm rather obsessed with songs about wolves always, but I'm really into "The Wolf" and "Keep the Streets Empty" right now. La howl.
• I think the meditation is getting better. I'm not really sure though. I have this feeling I'm doing it wrong or convincing myself I'm doing it right (and doing it wrong). The thing is, it's not like anyone can CHECK for me. It's freakin meditation. 
• I was talking about Watership Down with someone earlier this week.  It astounds me that even to this day, that story still messes with me so much.
• No matter how bad my mood, clever wordplay will always cheer me.

Ahh, and there you have it.  

Bedrooms, Changes, and Priorities

So I've been sleeping in the living room for a while now.  My mattress is on the floor, basically in the middle of the room, with pillows and CPAP spending most of their time on the couch. It hasn't been bad, but it hasn't been exactly comfortable either.

However, it has given us a chance to evaluate how my room is functioning and decide what changes need to be made.  We discussed, made plans, and gathered material. Now it's just a matter of things cooling down enough to make it happen.

 I know I talk about this a lot, but one of the keys to having a progressively less frustrating life is being willing to make changes to your environment as you can. This isn't always easy (or even possible) because so many of us move so often or find ourselves in limited space. However, if you working and reasonable list of your priorities, making changes in even the smallest of spaces is easier.

WHAT MATTERS MOST

I think whenever we address the concept of living space, we should always have a working list of our wants, needs, and priorities. People can over-complicate these things, so I try to go with just six. Actually, I go with three groups of two.  HAS TO BE THERE. WILL DO EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO HAVE THERE. WOULD LIKE TO HAVE, BUT IT'S LESS IMPORTANT.

I'll use my bedroom as an example of this.

HAS TO BE THERE.

1. Comfort
2. Navigation.

The MAIN THING I need is for my bedroom to be comfortable and easily navigated.

The bedroom is for sleeping, so comfort is my main priority. I need the bed to be easy to sleep on, easy to get on and off of, and easy to maintain.  With this in mind, we got the strongest bed frame we could find. We adjusted my furniture around so I could use it to keep pillows in place, and have easy access to my CPAP.  We arranged for the bed to be away from the windows so I don't freeze in the winter. We also made sure I had shades on said windows so the sun doesn't blind me in the morning.

The navigation is important because when I don't see clear paths through a room, I start getting really agitated.  I'm also fat and clumsy and have a tendency to run into things. We moved the furnishings in a way that allows me to have the safest route through the room.

WILL DO WHATEVER POSSIBLE TO HAVE THERE

3. Storage
4. Multipurpose functioning.

The room also serves as the place where I keep my clothing and hair supplies, as well as serving as storage for my music collection, video collection, and as an exercise area.

Storage is a goal I'm always working towards. The room only has one tiny, useless closet.  I store things in there that I don't want to throw away, but don't need around me all the time. I keep a working series of baskets for currently worn clothes and keep seasonal clothes in two drawer chests.  The room also contains a desk that serves as my night stand and storage for medical supplies and everyday personal items. Oh, and there are a lot of blankets.

I also use the bedroom for working out, listening to music, and lately, meditation.  I keep my items related to theses tasks out of the way, and will be addressing one of them (the music storage) in this latest room alteration.

WOULD LIKE

5. Personality
6. Attractiveness

The room is white paneling with a white ceiling and nasty old 1980s sky blue carpet. I can't afford to change any of this at the moment, so I work around it. I mostly ignore the floor and just pretend like it's attractive. I try to add personality by my choice of sheet colors and the art work. Just to keep from being bored, I change this up sometimes.

You'll notice that many things one would want in a bedroom don't make my list. I don't mention privacy, because it's really not that important to me. I didn't try to put  a TV in there, because I knew I would never ever find myself watching it. I also didn't prioritize a reading area, because if I read, I know it will be in the living room, on the porch, or in the car.

However, these points (and even many I didn't mention) may be the points most important to you.  There is no right or wrong in deciding what is important in room design. It is completely dependent on your needs.

I really have high hopes for the room changes. I think they'll make for more happiness in my life.  If not, I can always change it back, or change it in a new way.  It really just depends on what I end up needing.  As, in a bedroom, it always should.

What would you do quiz

Sometimes I have lots of enlightening and life altering things to say. Sometimes, I just want to fill out stupid quizzes. I picked this one at random.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF.........

The President of the United States called you:  I would assume it was a pre-recorded call about something he wanted me to do or vote for. I hate those calls, so I'd probably not do or vote for whatever it is. And that has nothing to do with politics and more with not wanting to be annoyed.


You won the lottery: I would take care of my debts and secure myself in a comfortable manner. Then I would use the rest of the money to do the same for my friends and loved ones.


You got invited to be on a reality TV show: I would refuse, as I'm terribly shy.


You caught a friend stealing from you: I probably wouldn't do anything. If this is really a friend, I would guess they were stealing from me because they really needed the money.  I'm poor and I know how horribly desperate being poor can be.   I wouldn't want to embarrass them about taking the money, so I'd say nothing about it and then try to help them as much as I could.


You witnessed a murder:  I'd probably freak the fuck out. I held someone's hand as they died and that messed with me horribly. This was a peaceful death. To see someone be murdered, I assume, would be ten times worse.


A random stranger offered you candy: I'd take it because free candy! I'm not some little kid that can be kidnapped. I'm a big fat woman! They could never carry me into the van. So hell yeah free candy!


Facebook closed: I'd suffer from withdraw and then try to make Google+ work.

A genie granted you one wish:  I'd set the genie free.  This isn't just some Pollyanna answer.  For one thing, it hopefully wouldn't backfire on me like genie wishes tend to do.  Plus, the fact that I got to MEET a genie would be so damned cool, the wish would seem unimportant. And finally, there is this game I used to play where they would randomly give you fairies trapped in bottles. You could use the fairy for your magic or set it free. I would ALWAYS set them free. It was just a damned game, but I still couldn't stand the thought of things being trapped like that.


You lost your favorite possession: My favorite possession is probably my computer. Sometimes they die, and I freak out horrible, weep, freak out more, and then find a way to get another one.


You found 10 dollars on the ground: I'd spend it on trivial things.  I believe if you find random money, you should always spend it trivially.


Your date throws up on you: Date? I have a date? I would love to answer this in many ways, but there is a high probability that this would make me throw up too.


Someone cut off a chunk of your hair: Eh. This has happened many times. I'd be fine.

Your favorite celebrity comes to visit you:  Lots of sex would be had!

You were stranded on an island with nothing but the ability to make one phone call: I'd call my uncle because he knows how to make shit happen. I'd get off the island within a week.

And thus ends the quiz!

I DID STUFF TONIGHT!

Yes, it's been like forever since I ventured forth and did stuff with people outside my house. It's been hot and horrible and I just stayed in the house and only came out for therapy or shopping or my best friend. But tonight, I went out and socialized with people.  It was great.

I feel like a whole new person. That may be because of new shampoo though.

Hopefully my roomie and I can start going out more now.  I know he's felt just as shut in as I was.  As bad as cabin fever can be during the winter, it's hell during the summer.

As I said before, it may be a bit too early to be hopeful, but maybe the evil heat is finished. If so, as much as I felt drained and awful before, tonight I feel fucking victorious.  We survived. We goddamn well survived this ungodly summer.  And it wasn't easy.

We had to make a lot of adjustments and decisions. We had to sacrifice comfort and convenience.   We had to be really really careful about how much we ran the AC.  But we did it.  We pulled though. And I really have to give props to my roommate here because he thought of so many solutions to our challenges.  Thanks, man.

Anyway, I'm calling it a night. More on WHAT I did while out later.  In the meantime, we survived the season. Good for all of us.

Friday List: A Day of Good

I haven't done a Friday List in a while. That's odd. I know I've been blogging. Have I just been bitching a lot? Well, no bitchery tonight. Today was a good day, in fact, it was a great day. I wanted to list the ways.

1. My roommate and I both slept very well.  In fact, it even got chilly last night. I had to sleep with a sheet on me. It was lux, I tell you!

2.  While it did get hot, we only had to use the AC for a few hours.  In fact, it was the first time we used the AC in three days, which was quite a nice change from how things had been.

3. I wasn't horribly nauseated, nor did I suffer from constant headaches. And this is the first time in about three days.

4. A friend stopped by.  It is rare that a friend stops by, but she did and we had a really good time.

5. My roommate and I watched some very well done animation. Most of the time, we're kind of meh over the animation we watch. But we were both quite emotional about everything tonight. In a good way.

6.  My roommate was kind enough to chop my veggies for me, so dinner was tomato slices.  And it was bliss, believe me.

7. The power blipped, but didn't go out for long.

8. The guy I talked to from the internet company wasn't an asshole. This is rare and should always be celebrated.

One of Us! One of Us!

Normally when people say they were born in the wrong time, it's because they long for the presumed simplicity of bygone eras. They believe our current time is too busy or gaudy or jaded or graceless and think they would be happier if born earlier.

For me, it's just a matter of economics. I could have been in a freak show.

That's right! I could have traveled the country with people with conjoined twins and people with claws for hands and anyone else set as an oddity in society. I could have been part of this strange, yet mysterious community, living in a vardo and eating at battered old tables set up outside whatever place we decide to camp for the night.

When we rolled into town, our tents would be set up just outside the regular circus.  They would be of darker hues, with less glitz, but certainly with more appeal. The freak show, after all, would be the thing that people came to see.  They would shift their feet, their eyes darting back and forth to make sure no one who shouldn't see them did.  They would clutch their tickets nervously and when they were handed over to the admittance box, the tickets would be damp with sweat.

The people would shuffle down the cause way, listening to barkers trying to seduce them into different tents.  Adrenaline would flood their bodies, pulses racing at the thrill of the dark monsters being so close. So so close.

As they drew near, they would hear my barker outside. "Come see her, fattest woman alive. Come see her sitting on a bed, eating chicken legs and cake. Watch the fat woman as she runs her thick, greasy hands over her face. MARVEL at the mammoth breasts, low and sagging, giant in size as they rise like mountains over her ponderous belly! Look at the vast growth on her arm. Is it another breast? Another head? What is she?"

And they would stop, intrigued by his words.  Lust and revulsion would rise up and do battle in their bodies, somehow both winning at the idea of me.  Everyone liked to gawk at a woman. Everyone loved to see how distorted human proportions could be.  They would nod to themselves, or perhaps exchange a mocking laugh with their fellows, offer money to my barker, and walk into my tent.

There I would sit, eating as promised, propped up on an old mattress with blankets taken from a whore house after a fire sale.  The bed frame, rusted out metal, would squeak and protest as I shifted around, trying to get comfortable.  My plate of chicken and cake would sit beside me and as much as I tried to keep the flies off of it, there would always be one or two lurking.

My dress would be low cut to show off my breasts, off the shoulder to show off the growth. Sweat stained, grease stained, and mud stained from the attack of an earlier customer, the dress would have thick seams to keep me in, and smell like all hell. I would hate it.

The tent, even in winter, would be hot.  The smell of working class men and of animal feces and of me would pervade the room with musty and unsavory musk. It would be the kind of smell you didn't want to enjoy, but somehow, secretly did.  I would sweat, always, despite how much I didn't want to.  The sweat would drip from my hair into my eyes, stinging them. It would drip into my mouth, salting my lips and tongue.

They would laugh at me. They would say the most horrible of things. They would throw things and me.  And some of them . . . some of them would be quiet and just stare. Later they would go to the barker and request private time with me.  They would slip him extra money and I would always go.  The money would always be good.

Even some of the ones who laughed would come back later.  They would explain as they removed their shirts that they only laughed because they were shocked or because their friends did.  They would tell me I was beautiful.

It would be a hard life, but it would be my life.  I would never be truly known by people, just a freak in the freak show. Just an object of ridicule or pity or lust. I would be entertainment, curiosity, and the subject of whispered morbid stories.

You might think this is a strange thing to consider, but it's really not.  You see, those looks that I would get when people viewed me on display at the freak show . . . I get them from people all the time.  All of that dark emotion, all of that objectification, all of the resentment and fear and even lust? Yes, I see that in people's faces every day.

The difference is, in the freak show, I'd get paid for it.

And in her Mind, All the Sheets Were Dry

I don't have sex with other people.  It's not that I'm against sex or asexual. It isn't even that I don't have desires. I tend to live in a rather comfortable state of lust. However, I'm also fat, anti-social, and selfish, so sex with other people doesn't happen.  And while this may be unhealthy, I'm totally okay with that. I only marginally like to be hugged. The idea of being penetrated is fairly creepy.

Because I don't have sex with other people, I somewhat forget that other people do have sex.  Rationally, I realize they do.  Actually, maybe not even rationally. I get told they do, but I don't process it. Maybe I don't even believe it. It's such an alien thing to my life that I tend to go through my days believing it's alien to everyone else.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I'm against sex or that I think people who have sex are immoral.

No, I'm saying that I just tend to default to the concept that people really don't have sex. It never happens. Or rarely happens. I'm not disgusted by the idea that people do it.  I'm just shocked they do it. Whenever I found out someone's pregnant, even if they've been married for years, my first thought is always, "Oh yeah. They probably have sex."

I'm even more shocked when I found out people cheated. When did they have time?  Or like priests or other people who are supposed to stay celibate? I honestly, honestly can't fathom why they don't stay celibate. It's really not that difficult. Oh, I know that last statement sounded really judgey. I didn't mean for it to. I'm not saying they're bad people for breaking vows . . . I just don't get why they would.  To me, it's easy to live without sex.

To be fair, there are a lot of reasons why it's easy for me to live this way.  Childhood trauma, assault, living in my brain, laziness, and probably being a Capricorn lend themselves to a life of contented celibacy. I just have to keep in mind not everyone else has all of these factors.

This has been your moment of BHB weirdness.

Heat Exhaustion

I've been in a lot of pain today. Mind you, I'm almost always in pain, but today I had more than normal.  My body is really giving out over the heat and the issues caused by the heat.  I've been drinking as much water as possible and trying to keep my system in balance, but I'm sweating so much I still feel dehydrated all the time.

My sleep has been marginal. Actually, the best sleep I'm getting is during the day when the AC is on. Sleep at night has been hellish, muggy, and sporadic.  When I don't sleep well, my tolerance for just about everything is shot.  My anxiety skyrockets and my depression creeps back in.

To make matters worse, the high temps are affecting the house. My fridge isn't cooling well. Windows and doors are screwing up. Even the van decided to get in on the action by refusing to close one of the back windows.  Stuff just wasn't meant to handle hours and hours of 100+ temps.

So right now I'm trying to distract myself. I'm going to sit here and watch a movie and pretend like everything will be okay.  Actually, everything will be okay.  Even the temperature will eventually go down. At least, it better. Bastard weather.

Sane Inside Insanity

When Rhiannon ran away last year and spent three days outside, she did not come back the same. She was searched for, and finally found, but she did not return the way she left.

It isn't something most people would notice. Rhiannon was always quiet, content to keep to herself and be lost in her own thoughts.  To many, it probably seemed the madness that took her while she was gone was something always with her.  They argued that her running away was proof of insanity. Whatever happened to her out there bore no consequence on a mind already fractured.

However, Rhiannon held a special place in my heart, and had since I first saw her. And while she was quiet and reserved, she did spend a lot of time around me.  I suppose, as I was always willing to talk to her even when she didn't wish to respond, I was a comfort.  She knew I would always acknowledge her.

Her disappearance was heartbreaking, horrifying. I felt so lost over it and I honestly wasn't sure my life would be the same. When she returned, I was overjoyed. I held her against me for a long time because I wanted her to know how much she was missed, how much she was wanted.

Her eyes changed.  Not the color, not the want they looked, but more how she looked through them, what she projected out to the rest of the world.  A wild, twitchy, lost unraveling replaced the gentle and shy sweetness of before. In her eyes, you saw no peace.  You could be certain she saw no peace either.

Days of quiet reflection gave way to her wandering madness.  She would stumble through our rooms, speaking in gibberish, calling out to someone or for something. I can not for the life of me tell you what she searched for, but I know she felt lost.  Her body language, her tone, her very vocalizations told me so.

Sometimes at night she would come into my room seeking comfort. She would cry out for me and then jump on my bed like a child. I would hold her til she slept, hoping the warmth and closeness would help draw the sanity back to the surface.

For a while, I thought it might be working.  She would come and sit with the rest of us during the long winter days.  She would act as excited as the others when treats would be given or during games. It was good to see her being social. We thought the madness was over.

But as the cold months gave way to the scorch of summer, her mind began to let go of her sanity once more.  She took to hiding in my room, finding the smallest, darkest corner she could wedge herself into and staying there for hours. She would sleep as much as possible and only sneak out to eat or go to the bathroom. If you saw her outside of my room, she would tense up, like she believed she didn't belong there, like she had no rights.

I can't help but wonder if the madness isn't seasonal.  If the unforgiving summer heat cooks her brain and leaves only a shell of who she really is.  These days she's even ignoring me. I try talking to her or singing her favorite songs to her and she acts like I'm someone else. It's painful but I hope, I so hope, it's just temporary.

Right now, as I glance across the room, Rhiannon is sleeping.  She's curled up in the arms of Salem and pretending like he isn't completely creeped out and uncomfortable with that idea.  She moves closer to him, nuzzling against his neck.  He almost makes a move to jab at her, but then he sees me staring at them and thinks better of it.

A couple of months and the heat will be over.  Maybe . . . maybe . . . maybe her sanity will return. She'll look at me with recognition and treat me like she always has.  Maybe she'll put on some weight, because right now she looks dangerously thin.  Maybe she'll remember it's okay to be social, that she belongs here, that she is loved.

But if none of this happens, it's okay.  People get crazy. That is part of life. People go off the deep end and drown in what they find there.  That doesn't mean you love them any less. And she does know she's loved.

Then again, cats always know that.

A Break from the Hell

Somehow despite predictions of the Sun actually sending blasts of hot pain, it ended up being a pretty decent day.  We didn't have to even turn the AC on until later in the afternoon. This was a nice change from having to flick the damned energy guzzling bastard on at like nine in the morning.

The thing is, it was still in the 90s. I now understand how different life can be in the 90s as opposed to it being past 110. I didn't want to understand this, but I do.

My roommate and I have been on the verge of illness for days, both of us suffering from nausea and headaches. The cats have been hiding and eating only the minimum of what they needed to survive. And this was with the AC on.  Somehow, it just wasn't penetrating the depth of the heat.

Today was a nice break from the hellish heat though. It made me look forward to Fall.  In fact, I want to really REVEL in Fall now. I want to go look at leaves and carve a damned pumpkin and celebrate Halloween and watch Fall cartoons with my roommate and sit on the porch and knit and be cold.

I guess if anything can be taken from this horrible summer, it is the idea that it's only temporary and seasons I like more are just around the corner. Soon I'll be leaving my fan on and shivering just so I can feel cold. I honestly can't wait.

Headache Nasties

This isn't going to be a long post. I had some plans for it, but everything kind of fell apart today due to headaches and nausea. I have no idea what's causing it. My guess is the massive oppressive heat and the constant stirring of dust that comes from the fans.

Whatever the case, for several hours today, I felt horrible. I'm still not 100%, but it's better.

So...posts tomorrow, hopefully.

An Open Letter to Wesley Scroggins

Dear Wes,

Your story and the consequences that followed came to my attention today.  I thought I'd write you. I know you'll like this, because it's pretty clear you're deeply into getting attention.

To begin with, I would like to share my concerns for the state of your mental health. You seem to be suffering from some control issues, as, while you have taken your children out of public school, you still feel the need to obsess about what happens in the public school.  You went so far as to write, well, many letters about the books in the school library.

Sometimes we just lack a self-awareness when we do things. I have included, for your benefit, how your nattering letters about the books are perceived by others.  Enjoy.

I'm sure you understand now . . . and understand why it might do you some good to get a mental health exam. This type of obsessive behavior could cost you in the future.

I would also like to express my disappointment in how little you understand about America and how our system works. You wrote that you did not like books that "create false conceptions of American history and government ." This is rather ironic because by advocating the banning of books, you,  yourself, are going against the very fabric of what America stands for.

America is about the free flowing exchange and expression of ideas. People are allowed to believe and think and even write about anything they want. Will these ideas always be pleasing? No.  Will they always make us comfortable and happy? No. Will we always agree with them? No.

What you are advocating though, is that the school board, which, in its small way, IS the governing body here, ban books.  Consider this, really think about it . . . you are asking a governing body to stop the free flow of ideas, to control the access . . . which is, honestly, the very nature of all of the evil forms of government ours have always fought against.

Books should never be banned.  No matter how distasteful they are, no matter how poorly written, no matter how much it offends you, the book should never be banned.  If you don't like the book, write your own to counteract it. Live a life that contradicts it.  Don't ban it. Banning it just makes you look cowardly, like you don't have enough faith in your ways and ideas to believe they will prove better than whatever the book said.

Finally, I would like to thank you.

That's right, Wes, I would like to thank you.

You see, before your big fuss and ruckus, I bet most of the teenagers at Republic High School didn't give a flying fuck about these books. If asked to read them, they would have marginally scanned the Wikipedia entries about them, basically just enough to pass a test or not look like complete idiots if asked a question.

If a movie exists of the book, they may have watched that, provided it was streaming off Netflix. While the movie was playing, they would have texted their friends, played video games, listened to music, and read gossip on Facebook.  Once the test was over, they would have forgotten about it completely.

See, at that point, you had apathy on your side.

However, because you made your big stink and because the school board, for some insane reason, took you seriously and banned these books, you have guaranteed the kids from RHS will not only read these books, but they will READ THE SHIT out of them. They will devour the content, discuss the subtext, debate with each other about character motive and plot twists.

They will remember every detail of these books, be able to intelligently discuss mood and setting, understand the historical context. They will read commentaries and join discussion boards and probably write college papers over these books.

And why will they do this? Ahh, well, Wes, they'll do it because of you. You made these books go from boring to interesting, taboo, and forbidden.  You woke up the jaded and bored teens and whispered to them of dangers and lewdness. You have managed to seduce them into reading, you old pervy creeper, and you will probably, in the process, manage to make them think about what they're reading.

So, I not only thank you, I applaud you. Through your mental issues and lack of self-awareness, through your willingness to play Thought Police, and your capacity to be a squeaky wheel, you have awakened a new found love for books in people who under ordinary circumstances may have never read anything longer than a blog post in their lives.

For that, you are awesome, even if unintentionally so.

TTFN,

Blackhaired Barbie

Waxing Religious

The other day, a friend posted an interview with Tori Amos where she said she believed Satan was a woman, always wore white, and drove an ice cream truck.

I commented that I loved Tori, but the truth is, Satan is a blond guy who owns a chain of tanning salons.  When he isn't busy tanning, he's writing school boards to see if he can make them push Creationism.

I guess it would seem a little odd to some that I would believe Satan pushed Creationism. After all, people tend to believe that Satan is doing his best to make everyone forget about God.  That simply isn't true though.

If the whole Christianity thing is true, then the main thing Satan would be pushing is  strife, anger, and conflict. Oh, and probably doing everything he could to get people to not follow Jesus or accept his sacrifice for them. Let's face it, the best way to do that is to make all the Christians look like jackasses.

Or rather, I suppose, given then ample opportunity to make themselves look like jackasses.

Creationism (or, it's more "let's trick em into it" cousin Intelligent Design) is one of the best tools the Devil has come up with in a while. It pisses EVERYONE off. It makes everyone fight and feel like they're being victimized. It makes everyone feel like their way of life and belief is being threatened.  It disrupts school board meetings.  People who normally rationally discuss mundane matters like campus parking and what new teachers to hire suddenly start screaming at each other.

All of this conflict isn't bringing anyone closer to Jesus.  It's just filling people's hearts with bitterness. Satan wins. Instead of people seeing their neighbors as other people concerned with the education of the children, now everyone sees each other as some crazy fuckwad. Satan wins. Friendships dissolve. People stop communicating with anyone except for those who believe just the way they do. Satan wins.

Listen, if you ever find yourself on a school board and someone brings up the Creationism/Intelligent Design thing, do whatever you can to shut the issue down.  If you don't, you could face lawsuits and violence and screaming and protests. You could lose friends. You could lose some good teachers.  And in the end, you'll find that all you do is lose.

If you are a deeply religious person, remember that separation of church and state isn't harming you. This separation is for your protection.  It means you can continue to worship as you see fit and no one can toss you in jail for it. Well, you know, provided you don't start killing people or marrying children. The public school may not be promoting your view of religion, but it isn't supposed to promote anyone else's either.

In the end, a productive community is one able to communicate and work towards common goals. If something destroys the communication, very little will get accomplished. If tempers run high and people find they can't be in the same room with each other without boiling with anger, nothing is going to get accomplished.

All the while, some overly tanned man will sit in his tanning bed and smile to himself, pleased that he's destroyed another community.  Come on, no one wants that.

The Truth about Dare

I hate dares.  I seriously hate dares. And I won't do them. No one should. People who dare you to do things should be ignored.

It seems to kind of be this primal urge in us to give in to a dare. I know that being accecpted and belonging are pretty important on the Maslow chart, but this is one time when we should ignore what our minds may be telling us to do. No wait, not our minds. Accepting a dare is almost always an emotional response.

It kind of goes like this. Someone dares us and inside, we get this response: We have been challenged. If we do not accept and complete the challenge, we will look bad.

When we're kids, one of the more common dares we run into is the Dare from Bully. Bullies are like the ass hairs of existence. Like ass hair, I'm sure they serve some purpose, but I have no idea what it is and in the meantime, they are annoying, ugly, and are apt to cause irritation.

When a bully dares us to do something, our emotional response is usually "oh, the person who freaks me out just challenged me. If I do this thing they want and I'm successful, they'll respect me. If I'm not successful, they'll still be impressed with my bravery."

Um, no.

The bully isn't going to be impressed with anything. Do not let the afterschool specials and teen movies fool you into thinking otherwise. The bully is an ass hair who does not have your best interests in mind and wants you to do something that will cause you harm, humiliation, and/or get you into trouble.  You will never gain their respect by doing what they say.

Let me repeat that because it's a damned important thing to remember in life. You will not gain their respect by doing what they say.

What the bully is doing is testing to see how far he or she can go with you. They want to know how much you will grovel, how much control they really have. Nothing you do, so long as you are doing what they want, will ever make your life better around them.

So what do you do? It won't be easy and it may go against your instincts, it may even cost you in some cases, but what you do is say no. Or better, say, "Fuck you, ass hair, I'm not here to be your bitch."

You may get into trouble for that though. So find some other, more appropriate way to say it.

Then there are the people who dare you to do things that seem like they are in your best interests.  You know the types. The family members or "friends" or whatnot who DARE you to "lose ten pounds" or "run a marathon" or "find a better job."  Yes, all the professional or amateur motivational speakers out there who are just full of pep and challenge for others.

The people are more like the pimples of existence.  They seem harmless enough, though you do wish they would go away. They often come out of no where, can be embarrassing, and can have a devastating effect on your self-esteem and confidence.  We tend to believe they're around because of something we did wrong or that they're just part of life.  Sometimes, they leave scars.

These people act like they have your best interests in mind, but like the bullies, they really don't.  Even if what they dare you to do might benefit you in some ways, doing it will, in the long run, cause you harm. They will see it as you accepting their advice and guidance.  Once they think they have you hooked, there is no stopping them.

It seems so harmless at first. You get dared and you think, "Well, she/he is right. I would benefit from the thing they dared me to do. What's the harm?"

The harm comes from the control these people now presume to have. They view themselves as THE GREAT LIFE CHANGERS and will begin to pick at you and find fault after fault.  They will never be satisfied and no matter what you do, it will never be enough.

The truth is, you could make yourself perfect and they would still keep bitching. This isn't about you. This is about their need to view themselves as important because they're so good at helping others improve their lives.

So whenever someone challenges you to do something that seems to be a benefit to you, don't do it. You can either just ignore them or actually try and explain why they don't get to emotionally blackmail you.  Often that doesn't work though. They just can not fathom why their wonderful suggestions won't be followed. It has to be something wrong with you.

As annoying and potentially dangerous as these types of daring can be, they're not what inspired this post. No, that is the new type of social shaming dare that one finds almost daily on Facebook. Tell me if you've seen any of these.

People will talk about (useless trivial media thing), but they won't talk about Jesus.    Jesus said if you deny me to Facebook (or, you know, other people), then I will deny you to my father. Most won't repost this. I dare you to.

The news reports about (useless and ever changing trivial blahblah) but won't talk about the soldiers killed in (where ever they happen to be for whatever country you're from). Our soldiers die for us. We don't support our troops enough. Most won't have the courage to  post this. I challenge you to post this on your wall. 

I could go on. You've seen them. They always follow the same pattern.

People care about crap and not about The Very Important Thing.
We should feel guilty about not caring about The Very Important Thing.
Bible verses or other guilt mechanism.
Possible threats.
Emotional manipulation to make you sound so special for doing the dare.
The dare.

What this basically is though is a chain letter or some other bit of useless spam. People want to see their causes supported and they want to feel like they're the sparkly poo divatron for doing it.  At the same time, they want you to do it as well, so they know they're not alone.

Look, and I realize I could be wrong here, but I somehow doubt that when you die, Jesus is going to say, "Oh yeah. You accepted me as your savior and you prayed to me and we had this great relationship, but you didn't post that thing on Facebook so....nope."

I also think there are better ways to support the troops or firefighters or mothers or cancer or whatever else they want people to support. Do not fall for the dare.

The Facebook one is easy to handle. Ignore it. Do not repost.  If this person keeps spamming you with dares, block them. Just, whatever you do, don't give in. If you have given in before, don't give in again. The more we ignore them, the quicker they will go away.

Oh, and I realize I didn't have an insulting metaphor for the Facebook dare people. I'll try to come up with one later. You're welcome to suggest some as well.

I'm not going to dare you to do it though.

Hotter than the Backside of Satan's Ballsack

This title is dedicated to my best friend. She and I actually made a whole song about this concept today, to the tune of B52's "Love Shack."

Satan's ballsack
Is a sweaty hot place that
Sticks to his leg!
Ballsack, baby!

Anyway, it seriously is fucking hot today. I think it maxed out at 113 or something. This is insane. It was 100 before noon. It's midnight and it's still 91. Midnight.

MIDNIGHT!

So compromises had to be made.  Normally we don't cool the kitchen, but it was so hot in there it was kind of scary. So curtains were shifted around so that the kitchen could keep from frying all the food in the cans. We were successful as the kitchen got down to a chilly 97!

I'm also losing the privacy of my bedroom. My roommate pulled my mattress into the living room so I could sleep in something close to comfort. As I'm Medical Equipment Barbie, this was kind of a challenge.

We also talked about the state of ourselves and how hot it can be in the car and decided that unless it was a short trip around town, we'd not be going out in this weather. It's just way too hot. Way way too hot. If we broke down, we would sizzle and not in a good way.

This last decision had a rather nasty psychological effect on both of us.  It's never fun to be stranded.  We had to go through this during the damned snow and then during the damned flooding and now during the damned heatwave.  Yes, I'm tired of extreme weather.

On the plus side, my roommate has been a darling about moving stuff around. He even managed to cook this morning (in the frozen tundra of the high-90's kitchen!) and searched heroically for Outside Kitty.  The cats love my mattress being in the living room, in fact Antisocial Crazymess Cat even came out to hang with us today.

And of course, I have a new song.

Stuck stuck stuck to his leg, baby!
Satan needs a fan, sugar!

The Girl Can't Help It

I started watching RuPaul's Drag Race tonight and it's awesome. Ru took every good aspect and every kitschy aspect of reality contests, added glitter, stiletto heels, and made it into a show. Lovely.

I realized by the third episode, I was feeling a little sad. Then I realized that watching it makes me miss Divine. In fact, I think the reason I love drag queens is because of Divine. Divine is one of my heroes and always will be.

Divine, or Harris Glenn Milstead as she was sometimes known (like, out of drag) was not acceptable by any conventional standards.  And yet, managed to carve out an amazing (if off the beaten path) career in showbiz.  Singing, acting, and entertaining every way around, Divine was the definition of fierce.  There wasn't anything she was afraid to do.  She made the crass beautiful. I loved that.

It's funny how most of the time, I tend to just hide in the house, with only my blog and FB as my only contact with anyone, when, in my mind, I have all these heroes who are the fierce, freaky amazing people.  On my good days, I'm right there with them, letting my freak flag fly. Sadly, the good days are few. That should change.

But in the meantime, let's celebrate something truly Divine.