I really should blog more. I enjoy writing and find it very cathartic. But, I also find that a lot of the time when I write, I am angry or ragey about some unfairness or stupidity or what have you, and people don't like to read that so much. So, I mostly write about that stuff in a private blog or in my journal.
I've been told to not worry about stuff and just focus on myself and my daughter, but I often can't let injustices slide without comment or fight. That just perpetuates the injustice. Even if my comments or actions don't change anything, at least I tried. And, I have changed a few minds. And had my own mind changed.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Bootstraps
I cannot handle it anymore, so here I go, ranting on my blog. If you aren't interested in my soap box, stop reading now and go look at pictures of kittens.
Today, I am rather disgusted with my fellow Mormons. Now, I think that most Mormons maybe don't think like this, but since most of them don't want to get involved and want to stay silent, I'm honestly not sure what to conclude. I am hoping that it is simply the case of a vocal minority, though I wish more people would speak up if they don't agree, because allowing the vocal minority to be the loudest makes us look BAD. Does it matter what the rest of the world thinks of us? Well, yes, it does! Why? Because part of what we believe to be our calling and responsibility on this earth is to bring souls to God. Hard to bring souls to God when we look like a hateful, small minded bunch of bigots.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating the "so open minded your brain falls out" mentality either. What I am talking about is the most basic tenets of the Gospel, which seem to have gotten lost in our bid to out-righteous one another. In a FB thread, I was told, multiple times by multiple people that I did not understand the doctrines of the Gospel in any way and that I was on my way to apostasy if I hadn't already arrived there. Why? Because I advocated less vitriol and hate and more kindness toward Kate Kelly and those who support her, as well as others with differing opinions about issues.
In case you want to know what some of the vitriol was...
-Good riddance
-The Church is much better off without her
-She's probably a lesbian
-Why does she even want to be a member?
-She has so many similarities to Lucifer
-I hope she disappears, I'm sick of her.
-Tara, the fact that you think women might ever have the Priesthood shows how little you understand the Gospel or Heavenly Father. (This is after I said I thought God would be the one to decide if women are ordained in the future)
-Women who ask about having the Priesthood are greedy and should be happy with what they have.
-I don't need to read what these women have said because I already know they are all apostates.
-Kate Kelly and her ilk are arrogant and juvenile.
-when my daughters detail how people like Kate have lost their way, well, it makes this daddy very proud.
-When I mentioned (after some snark on my part) that if this was a test of how Christlike we are, I thought we had failed, and I apologized for being snarky, due to the rude remarks slinging back and forth, this was the response.
"May we all be as humble as you, Diane and Dan. Stellar folks you are, preaching philosophies of men mingled with scripture. Isn't that what Kate Kelly does? Yep, you need to learn doctrine."
Now, I inquired which doctrine I was misunderstanding in my apology and my desire to be more Christlike, love one another and all that, but he never answered me directly about it. He simply said that many people had tried to show Kate love and she didn't show any in return, so basically, because she didn't, he doesn't need to. Towards anyone.
It went on and on and on. I finally withdrew because it was making me disgusted with my own people (he wasn't alone in his opinions).
In addition to this thread, I read another one on the Healthy Utah bill and what people thought of it. The general consensus was that health care is NOT a right, it's a privilege. If you can't earn enough to pay for that privilege, that's your own fault. You should get a job with benefits. Can't find a job with benefits? Well, that's also your fault, you should have gotten an education so you could qualify for a better life. Couldn't pay for an education? Your fault. I did it, so you could have as well. (Never mind the rampant privilege oozing out of a statement like that.)
Can't afford insurance? You should work more hours so you can. Oh? You have children and can't work more hours because you need to be home with them? Well, that's a sacrifice you will have to make if you want insurance. Can't afford daycare for them because you don't make enough and the gov't aid has been cut? You shouldn't have spread your legs if you couldn't afford to care for your own kids. (This coming from members of the LDS Church, which, I would like to point out, counsels it's members NOT to wait until they are financially secure before they have children.)
There's also the birth control shouldn't be covered by insurance or gov't aid bit. I shouldn't have to pay for you to sleep around. Don't want to get pregnant? Don't have sex. No, we do not want comprehensive sex education, even though it is proven to reduce teen pregnancy. I don't want my children learning about CONDOMS or TEH GAYZ. It might make them go gay or think sex is ok.
And no, abortions should never, ever, ever be allowed because BABIES. But, while we are on the subject of babies, no I don't want my tax dollars going to gov't aid programs for you people who don't want to get off your lazy butts and earn enough money to provide food, clothing and housing for those babies you had because you didn't use birth control (that you can't afford) or didn't refrain from sex (which you should do even if you are married). I will make sure that baby gets born, even if it is only a zygote right now, but once it is born, you need to take care of it. No safe and affordable daycare in your area? You should move to a nicer area.
Besides, there are enough infertile couples who will want to adopt your sweet new baby that you don't want because you are an evil, lazy welfare queen. Unless that baby isn't white. Or has special needs. Or stays in the foster system for so long that it is no longer a baby, because I don't want to raise your older child who now has attachment disorder due to being shuffled from house to house because you were to poor to keep her.
Oh, and yes, please use tens of thousands of my tax dollars to do drug tests on women who apply for food stamps, because I do not want my money going to provide food for the children of those kind of people. The children of drug addicts do not deserve to eat, apparently. Forget about the fact that the tens of thousands of dollars spent on those drug tests only saved $3600 in food stamps, it's totally worth it to keep their children from eating. If she can't feed her children because she is a drug addict, that is not my problem. If she wants her kids to eat, she shouldn't do drugs. She does drugs, so her kids just have to suffer.
BUT, those same kids should really be able to pull themselves out of the cycle of oppressive poverty because, reasons. Doesn't matter that they don't have the same privileges that I have. I know this one guy who grew up like that and he succeeded, so obviously, anyone can..
I could go on. No, I am not advocating against personal responsibility. Not in any way. I think we should be personally responsible and I do my damnedest to be just that. But, I also recognize my privilege. I am an educated white woman with a good skill, surrounded by family and friends who can help me. I only have one child, so it is infinitely easier to afford things on my small income. I was also taught how to manage money very well, a privilege not everyone is blessed with.
I was lucky enough, while pregnant, to be married to someone who could earn a living and had insurance, so when things went bad during my pregnancy and I could no longer work, I still had a roof over my head and insurance to pay what were sure to be large hospital bills. I shudder to think how things might have gone were we reliant on my income and benefits, since I lost them.
I was lucky enough to have insurance when my delivery went wrong and I nearly died, but didn't thanks to blood transfusions and a lot of IV meds. I was lucky enough that my insurance covered the medical bills, because there is no way I could have paid them off without it. Did I deserve to nearly die? Well, I could have avoided it had I kept my legs closed and not gotten pregnant.
I was lucky enough to have insurance and a skill that allowed me to work from home on my own schedule when my daughter got meningitis and was hospitalized for a week and nearly died. I didn't leave the hospital because I was terrified she would die if I did. I had the privilege (unearned, I might add) of being able to stay with her until she recovered.
My grand point is this. It is all well and good to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. To a certain extent I have done this. But, you can't do it if you haven't got the straps, much less the boots to begin with.
As a Mormon and a Christian, I firmly believe it is my GOD GIVEN DUTY to do what I can to help provide those boots, those straps and a way to learn how to pull, whether in life or as a member of the Church who struggles. "As I have loved you, love one another" It seems that many of my fellows disagree with me. Get your own damn boots.
Today, I am rather disgusted with my fellow Mormons. Now, I think that most Mormons maybe don't think like this, but since most of them don't want to get involved and want to stay silent, I'm honestly not sure what to conclude. I am hoping that it is simply the case of a vocal minority, though I wish more people would speak up if they don't agree, because allowing the vocal minority to be the loudest makes us look BAD. Does it matter what the rest of the world thinks of us? Well, yes, it does! Why? Because part of what we believe to be our calling and responsibility on this earth is to bring souls to God. Hard to bring souls to God when we look like a hateful, small minded bunch of bigots.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating the "so open minded your brain falls out" mentality either. What I am talking about is the most basic tenets of the Gospel, which seem to have gotten lost in our bid to out-righteous one another. In a FB thread, I was told, multiple times by multiple people that I did not understand the doctrines of the Gospel in any way and that I was on my way to apostasy if I hadn't already arrived there. Why? Because I advocated less vitriol and hate and more kindness toward Kate Kelly and those who support her, as well as others with differing opinions about issues.
In case you want to know what some of the vitriol was...
-Good riddance
-The Church is much better off without her
-She's probably a lesbian
-Why does she even want to be a member?
-She has so many similarities to Lucifer
-I hope she disappears, I'm sick of her.
-Tara, the fact that you think women might ever have the Priesthood shows how little you understand the Gospel or Heavenly Father. (This is after I said I thought God would be the one to decide if women are ordained in the future)
-Women who ask about having the Priesthood are greedy and should be happy with what they have.
-I don't need to read what these women have said because I already know they are all apostates.
-Kate Kelly and her ilk are arrogant and juvenile.
-when my daughters detail how people like Kate have lost their way, well, it makes this daddy very proud.
-When I mentioned (after some snark on my part) that if this was a test of how Christlike we are, I thought we had failed, and I apologized for being snarky, due to the rude remarks slinging back and forth, this was the response.
"May we all be as humble as you, Diane and Dan. Stellar folks you are, preaching philosophies of men mingled with scripture. Isn't that what Kate Kelly does? Yep, you need to learn doctrine."
Now, I inquired which doctrine I was misunderstanding in my apology and my desire to be more Christlike, love one another and all that, but he never answered me directly about it. He simply said that many people had tried to show Kate love and she didn't show any in return, so basically, because she didn't, he doesn't need to. Towards anyone.
It went on and on and on. I finally withdrew because it was making me disgusted with my own people (he wasn't alone in his opinions).
In addition to this thread, I read another one on the Healthy Utah bill and what people thought of it. The general consensus was that health care is NOT a right, it's a privilege. If you can't earn enough to pay for that privilege, that's your own fault. You should get a job with benefits. Can't find a job with benefits? Well, that's also your fault, you should have gotten an education so you could qualify for a better life. Couldn't pay for an education? Your fault. I did it, so you could have as well. (Never mind the rampant privilege oozing out of a statement like that.)
Can't afford insurance? You should work more hours so you can. Oh? You have children and can't work more hours because you need to be home with them? Well, that's a sacrifice you will have to make if you want insurance. Can't afford daycare for them because you don't make enough and the gov't aid has been cut? You shouldn't have spread your legs if you couldn't afford to care for your own kids. (This coming from members of the LDS Church, which, I would like to point out, counsels it's members NOT to wait until they are financially secure before they have children.)
There's also the birth control shouldn't be covered by insurance or gov't aid bit. I shouldn't have to pay for you to sleep around. Don't want to get pregnant? Don't have sex. No, we do not want comprehensive sex education, even though it is proven to reduce teen pregnancy. I don't want my children learning about CONDOMS or TEH GAYZ. It might make them go gay or think sex is ok.
And no, abortions should never, ever, ever be allowed because BABIES. But, while we are on the subject of babies, no I don't want my tax dollars going to gov't aid programs for you people who don't want to get off your lazy butts and earn enough money to provide food, clothing and housing for those babies you had because you didn't use birth control (that you can't afford) or didn't refrain from sex (which you should do even if you are married). I will make sure that baby gets born, even if it is only a zygote right now, but once it is born, you need to take care of it. No safe and affordable daycare in your area? You should move to a nicer area.
Besides, there are enough infertile couples who will want to adopt your sweet new baby that you don't want because you are an evil, lazy welfare queen. Unless that baby isn't white. Or has special needs. Or stays in the foster system for so long that it is no longer a baby, because I don't want to raise your older child who now has attachment disorder due to being shuffled from house to house because you were to poor to keep her.
Oh, and yes, please use tens of thousands of my tax dollars to do drug tests on women who apply for food stamps, because I do not want my money going to provide food for the children of those kind of people. The children of drug addicts do not deserve to eat, apparently. Forget about the fact that the tens of thousands of dollars spent on those drug tests only saved $3600 in food stamps, it's totally worth it to keep their children from eating. If she can't feed her children because she is a drug addict, that is not my problem. If she wants her kids to eat, she shouldn't do drugs. She does drugs, so her kids just have to suffer.
BUT, those same kids should really be able to pull themselves out of the cycle of oppressive poverty because, reasons. Doesn't matter that they don't have the same privileges that I have. I know this one guy who grew up like that and he succeeded, so obviously, anyone can..
I could go on. No, I am not advocating against personal responsibility. Not in any way. I think we should be personally responsible and I do my damnedest to be just that. But, I also recognize my privilege. I am an educated white woman with a good skill, surrounded by family and friends who can help me. I only have one child, so it is infinitely easier to afford things on my small income. I was also taught how to manage money very well, a privilege not everyone is blessed with.
I was lucky enough, while pregnant, to be married to someone who could earn a living and had insurance, so when things went bad during my pregnancy and I could no longer work, I still had a roof over my head and insurance to pay what were sure to be large hospital bills. I shudder to think how things might have gone were we reliant on my income and benefits, since I lost them.
I was lucky enough to have insurance when my delivery went wrong and I nearly died, but didn't thanks to blood transfusions and a lot of IV meds. I was lucky enough that my insurance covered the medical bills, because there is no way I could have paid them off without it. Did I deserve to nearly die? Well, I could have avoided it had I kept my legs closed and not gotten pregnant.
I was lucky enough to have insurance and a skill that allowed me to work from home on my own schedule when my daughter got meningitis and was hospitalized for a week and nearly died. I didn't leave the hospital because I was terrified she would die if I did. I had the privilege (unearned, I might add) of being able to stay with her until she recovered.
My grand point is this. It is all well and good to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. To a certain extent I have done this. But, you can't do it if you haven't got the straps, much less the boots to begin with.
As a Mormon and a Christian, I firmly believe it is my GOD GIVEN DUTY to do what I can to help provide those boots, those straps and a way to learn how to pull, whether in life or as a member of the Church who struggles. "As I have loved you, love one another" It seems that many of my fellows disagree with me. Get your own damn boots.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Oh, to be in England
I went to London last week, somewhere that I've not been for nigh unto 20 years. It was...painful, beautiful, exciting, depressing and altogether beautiful.
I first found myself there immediately after graduating from college, in 1996, with a group of my lovely friends from college. And, I fell in deep, lasting love with the city. I fell in love with the history, the architecture, the museums, the underlying pulse and scent of a huge place that has been there for centuries, millenia, even.
I was young, single and college educated. I had the world at my feet and I could do anything, and London is a good place to be when you feel like you can conquer the world.
My trip was important for me for a number of reasons, one of them being that it was the first time in a very long time that I had done something strictly for myself. And, oh, was it glorious. I was there for a couple of months, living in a grubby little flat with 4 other girls, just doing what I wanted. Museums, shows, castles, shopping, food, walking, history, textiles, beauty, travel. I felt completely free there. Free and happy. So, you see, London is a bit of a fairy tale for me. I had dreamt about it before I went, and it lived up to it's expectations.
And, fast forward to now. I hadn't been back to London since, for so many reasons, but, this Christmas, a dear friend was talking about going and it put an idea into my head. By providence or luck, I got a bonus at work, and that, coupled with the ideas that said friend had put in my head, made me jump on the internet. You know, just to see what flights looked like. And I found one. A cheap one. Right after the show at work opened. What did I do? I didn't think, that's what, I just bought the ticket. And promptly had a bit of a freakout. It's a lot of money, buying a plane ticket to England. And I'm so careful with my money. But, despite the website having a 24 hr return policy, I bit my lip and hung on, waiting for the panic to pass.
Suddenly, it was real. I was going to LONDON. I needed a passport, I needed to do a budget, I needed some clothes and some travel accoutrements. So, I hustled my butt and got things done and before I knew it, my trip was here. I wasn't ready, but it didn't much matter, I was going. By myself, which could have been a bit nerve-wracking, except it's LONDON.
I got off the plane, took the Gatwick Express to Victoria Station, ditched my luggage and walked out into the cold London damp. I would be lying if I said it didn't take my breath away. Oh, it did. So many memories. So many delightful, perfect memories. I had a Tube pass, but I didn't want to waste my time or the view, so I walked from Victoria Station over to Westminster Abbey and Parliament, snapping photos of all the buildings on the way.
London is a huge, old city, full of twisty narrow roads and tight alleys. Old buildings and modern office structures. And so, when you are walking about, you might be in a narrow street of Victorian Terrace houses with a modern building stuck in the middle. Or walking next to and between a couple of concrete high rises with only the grey sky above to accompany the grey blocks on either side. It smells of exhaust and cigarette smoke and Indian food and sweat. Then suddenly, you turn a corner and you are transported back. The noise dies away, the traffic disappears, the smells change, because suddenly, you are face to face with history. Beautiful, unchanged, exquisite, real history. And it beckons you on and in. This is what London does to me. It sucks me in, catches me tight in it's embrace and it won't let me go. And I don't want to be let go.
Westminster Abbey, the Palace of Westminster. Complicated, elaborate, overblown gothic perfection. And it sneaks up on you out of this modern, whirling, bustling city, to take your breath away, to steal you out of your own space, to boggle your mind with it's complexity. Well, my mind, anyhow.
London is my happy place, my fairy tale, my dream come true, which in some ways, also makes it profoundly disheartening, because it doesn't belong to me and never will. A trip to London every 15 or 20 years is not enough to make it mine. London has my heart, but I don't have London.
I first found myself there immediately after graduating from college, in 1996, with a group of my lovely friends from college. And, I fell in deep, lasting love with the city. I fell in love with the history, the architecture, the museums, the underlying pulse and scent of a huge place that has been there for centuries, millenia, even.
I was young, single and college educated. I had the world at my feet and I could do anything, and London is a good place to be when you feel like you can conquer the world.
My trip was important for me for a number of reasons, one of them being that it was the first time in a very long time that I had done something strictly for myself. And, oh, was it glorious. I was there for a couple of months, living in a grubby little flat with 4 other girls, just doing what I wanted. Museums, shows, castles, shopping, food, walking, history, textiles, beauty, travel. I felt completely free there. Free and happy. So, you see, London is a bit of a fairy tale for me. I had dreamt about it before I went, and it lived up to it's expectations.
And, fast forward to now. I hadn't been back to London since, for so many reasons, but, this Christmas, a dear friend was talking about going and it put an idea into my head. By providence or luck, I got a bonus at work, and that, coupled with the ideas that said friend had put in my head, made me jump on the internet. You know, just to see what flights looked like. And I found one. A cheap one. Right after the show at work opened. What did I do? I didn't think, that's what, I just bought the ticket. And promptly had a bit of a freakout. It's a lot of money, buying a plane ticket to England. And I'm so careful with my money. But, despite the website having a 24 hr return policy, I bit my lip and hung on, waiting for the panic to pass.
Suddenly, it was real. I was going to LONDON. I needed a passport, I needed to do a budget, I needed some clothes and some travel accoutrements. So, I hustled my butt and got things done and before I knew it, my trip was here. I wasn't ready, but it didn't much matter, I was going. By myself, which could have been a bit nerve-wracking, except it's LONDON.
I got off the plane, took the Gatwick Express to Victoria Station, ditched my luggage and walked out into the cold London damp. I would be lying if I said it didn't take my breath away. Oh, it did. So many memories. So many delightful, perfect memories. I had a Tube pass, but I didn't want to waste my time or the view, so I walked from Victoria Station over to Westminster Abbey and Parliament, snapping photos of all the buildings on the way.
London is a huge, old city, full of twisty narrow roads and tight alleys. Old buildings and modern office structures. And so, when you are walking about, you might be in a narrow street of Victorian Terrace houses with a modern building stuck in the middle. Or walking next to and between a couple of concrete high rises with only the grey sky above to accompany the grey blocks on either side. It smells of exhaust and cigarette smoke and Indian food and sweat. Then suddenly, you turn a corner and you are transported back. The noise dies away, the traffic disappears, the smells change, because suddenly, you are face to face with history. Beautiful, unchanged, exquisite, real history. And it beckons you on and in. This is what London does to me. It sucks me in, catches me tight in it's embrace and it won't let me go. And I don't want to be let go.
Westminster Abbey, the Palace of Westminster. Complicated, elaborate, overblown gothic perfection. And it sneaks up on you out of this modern, whirling, bustling city, to take your breath away, to steal you out of your own space, to boggle your mind with it's complexity. Well, my mind, anyhow.
London is my happy place, my fairy tale, my dream come true, which in some ways, also makes it profoundly disheartening, because it doesn't belong to me and never will. A trip to London every 15 or 20 years is not enough to make it mine. London has my heart, but I don't have London.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Anxiety
If you love me, you should read this. Hell, if you don't love me, you should read this, because you probably know and love someone with this problem.
9 things I wish people understood about anxiety
#9 really gets me. I know how much I can exhaust those close to me. I know what a pain in the ass I am. So, I tend to keep to myself or try to focus on the other person, because wearing out someone that you love is really hard on one's self-esteem.
9 things I wish people understood about anxiety
#9 really gets me. I know how much I can exhaust those close to me. I know what a pain in the ass I am. So, I tend to keep to myself or try to focus on the other person, because wearing out someone that you love is really hard on one's self-esteem.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!
So, I've had a crappy few days. Sewed my finger at work, the needle broke off and a bit got stuck in my finger, so I had to push it through and pull it out with some big tweezers. It was gross, it hurt a lot and I ended up having to go to Instacare to get it X-rayed and get a tetanus booster. Not awesome.
Yesterday, I finished a cushion I was reupholstering for a friend and went by his house to drop it off. I'd been fighting a migraine all day, which sucked, because I was out of meds. I figured I would drop off the cushion, hang out and admire my handiwork for a bit, then head home after traffic had died down a bit. I hate driving in traffic, but it's a hundred times worse with a migraine.
So, there I sat on his couch, eating brie and water crackers when, all of a sudden, my head just exploded. I'm lucky I didn't vomit on his floor, it was that bad. I set my cracker down and said "I have to go home." He watched me for a moment, as I unsteadily made my way to the door and down the steps. He followed me out, took my arm and returned me to the house, saying I was unfit to drive and that I should lay down. So, naturally, I started to cry.
Now, I freely admit that I am a bit of a crybaby. It's one of the things I sincerely dislike about myself, but there it is. When I have a migraine, I get weepy, it's just how it works. So, there I am, wobbling in his front room with tears streaming down my dead white face. Embarrassing would be the word for this. I felt like an idiot. But, he was right, I was in no fit state to drive home. So, I laid on his floor for some time, then spent the night, propped in a sitting position on the couch, as it was too painful to lay down. Come this morning, I was still in some serious pain, so he left me there when he went to work. He was terribly kind, but still, I felt like crap, I had no intention of inconveniencing him in that manner and I generally manage (and prefer) to be in my own bed when I boo-hoo in pain.
All of this is a preface to the remainder of my day and what I am looking forward to this weekend. After I more or less recovered, I went to work. I was only there for an hour before my boss sent me home because the carpet was being redone at work and the smell was horrible and she was worried about my migraine recurring. So, I left and got home in time to walk over to the school to pick up my girl. My wee nephew was at my mom's, so they came with me and I put the baby down to fetch the Small Daughter, and the look on his face when he saw her was priceless. He loves her and she him, although they irritate each other to no end. She was happy to see me, as well. I hadn't seen her for a couple of days, so it was a delight to get her early.
We spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for Thanksgiving, which was delightful, but CROWDED!
When we got home, Small Daughter promptly ran upstairs to see her friends. I live in an apartment in my BFF's basement, and she has three littles near Small Daughter's age, it's fantastic. I tidied up, did some work, took a bath, had a chat with the friend from the night before, then sat on my bed and ate pomegranate while reading. Delightful. Small Daughter came home about an hour ago, "Mom, I'm STARVING!", so I plopped her in bed, handed her the Kindle, reheated some Cafe Rio soup and queso for her, then climbed in next to her. She wrapped her arms around me, gave me a kiss and said, "I'm lucky to have a mamma as nice as you!"
Happy Thanksgiving, indeed. My life is blessed.
Yesterday, I finished a cushion I was reupholstering for a friend and went by his house to drop it off. I'd been fighting a migraine all day, which sucked, because I was out of meds. I figured I would drop off the cushion, hang out and admire my handiwork for a bit, then head home after traffic had died down a bit. I hate driving in traffic, but it's a hundred times worse with a migraine.
So, there I sat on his couch, eating brie and water crackers when, all of a sudden, my head just exploded. I'm lucky I didn't vomit on his floor, it was that bad. I set my cracker down and said "I have to go home." He watched me for a moment, as I unsteadily made my way to the door and down the steps. He followed me out, took my arm and returned me to the house, saying I was unfit to drive and that I should lay down. So, naturally, I started to cry.
Now, I freely admit that I am a bit of a crybaby. It's one of the things I sincerely dislike about myself, but there it is. When I have a migraine, I get weepy, it's just how it works. So, there I am, wobbling in his front room with tears streaming down my dead white face. Embarrassing would be the word for this. I felt like an idiot. But, he was right, I was in no fit state to drive home. So, I laid on his floor for some time, then spent the night, propped in a sitting position on the couch, as it was too painful to lay down. Come this morning, I was still in some serious pain, so he left me there when he went to work. He was terribly kind, but still, I felt like crap, I had no intention of inconveniencing him in that manner and I generally manage (and prefer) to be in my own bed when I boo-hoo in pain.
All of this is a preface to the remainder of my day and what I am looking forward to this weekend. After I more or less recovered, I went to work. I was only there for an hour before my boss sent me home because the carpet was being redone at work and the smell was horrible and she was worried about my migraine recurring. So, I left and got home in time to walk over to the school to pick up my girl. My wee nephew was at my mom's, so they came with me and I put the baby down to fetch the Small Daughter, and the look on his face when he saw her was priceless. He loves her and she him, although they irritate each other to no end. She was happy to see me, as well. I hadn't seen her for a couple of days, so it was a delight to get her early.
We spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for Thanksgiving, which was delightful, but CROWDED!
When we got home, Small Daughter promptly ran upstairs to see her friends. I live in an apartment in my BFF's basement, and she has three littles near Small Daughter's age, it's fantastic. I tidied up, did some work, took a bath, had a chat with the friend from the night before, then sat on my bed and ate pomegranate while reading. Delightful. Small Daughter came home about an hour ago, "Mom, I'm STARVING!", so I plopped her in bed, handed her the Kindle, reheated some Cafe Rio soup and queso for her, then climbed in next to her. She wrapped her arms around me, gave me a kiss and said, "I'm lucky to have a mamma as nice as you!"
Happy Thanksgiving, indeed. My life is blessed.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
HEY
Oh, hey, it's me. The laziest blogger in the history of ever. I have thoughts for posts flit through my head all the time, but most of them never make it onto this blog, for a variety of reasons. The top one, though, is that I'm lazy about writing. Or maybe I'm just too busy, I mean, I have lots going on! Yes, that's it. Busy.
Anyway, I worked today, at work (see? BUSY). I mean, it wasn't FOR my regular job, but I did go up there to get some stuff done. I work better up there, I have to admit. There aren't any distractions, no computer, etc. No people, no snacks, just a nice big space (I actually cleaned off my table) and sewing machines that work. I messed up my industrial at home a couple of months ago and haven't gotten it fixed yet, and sewing on a domestic makes me cranky. I feel like I could just weight the pedal, go make dinner and then come back and do the next seam. SO SLOW. And I had to get the thing done today. The thing being a christening dress for a friend's granddaughter who needs it for TOMORROW.
There is a possibility that I procrastinate sometimes. Don't judge. I'M BUSY.
As a brief respite from working today, I went to the interior decorating fabric store with a friend to find fabric so I can redo the cushion on his antique settee. No lie, it's fun spending other people's money, even if it isn't for me. He finds a fabric he likes and goes for it. $50/yd, no biggie. If it turns out he doesn't like the fabric, meh, we'll do it over (he's paying me). My reaction? Blink...blink...blink. When I reupholster my furniture, I head over the to cheap home fabrics store and buy the stuff that's clearanced for $5/yd or less. Like I said, spending other people's money is fun.
After finding fabric he liked, we jaunted on over to Starbucks for scones (where he made fun of my proper pronunciation of the word) and coffee, or spiced cider, in my case. Then, we chatted. I love chatting with this man. He's very intelligent, intellectual, liberal, well read, funny and challenging. He makes me rethink my views and opinions on some things in a way no one else does. It's very stimulating, and also sometimes frustrating. He's also VERY opinionated, but so am I and it's rather delightful, the debates we get into. He got me into a corner today and then laughed and said "Don't argue with me, I'm very good." I told him that was my line and he needed to not steal it.
During the course of the conversation, he asked me if I was dating anybody yet. I said no, he said why not, I said dating is a pain in the ass. Especially if one is a Mormon Feminist. It narrows the field considerably. His response? "You should give up being a Mormon, then." I thought this was really interesting. Yes, I have issues with a lot of the culture of the LDS Church. Being a Feminist, that is sort of unavoidable. I even have some issues with what many perceive as the doctrine of the LDS Church. The difference being that I think those things are policy, not doctrine, and may change some day. But, that is a different post, and one I will probably never write on here. While this may be the blog of a Mormon Feminist, it is not A Mormon Feminist Blog, though I do frequent many of those. But, I digress.
I had to pause for a minute and figure out how to explain why that wasn't the sort of thing I could just "give up" so I could date more. What it boils down to is this; Being a Mormon is foundational to my self identity. I have a strong conviction of the truth of the doctrine found in the Gospel we have here. It directs, in a certain sense, how I choose to live my life and the choices I make in my life, and how I make those choices. So much of the culture I live in here drives me CRAZY. It's sexist and conservative and classist and often unchristian and judgy, honestly, and it makes it hard to engage in a general sense. But, I can't and won't give it up, because the doctrine rings true for me.
I can't give up being Mormon any more than I can give up being feminist or intelligent or independent or opinionated, all things that make dating hard. Not only does that narrow the field of men that are interested in me, but it narrows the field of men in whom I am interested. I had a few men on a dating site I was on tell me they thought it brave of me to admit that I was a feminist in my profile, because it would mean a lot fewer men would be interested in messaging me. Blink blink. Um, guess what? If they are put off by me being a feminist, I'd just as soon they NOT message me....not my kind of guy, methinks. I'm not afraid to put that I'm a Mormon in my profile, either. I am one.
If I have to give up something, I'll give up dating. I won't give up Mormon or feminist or intelligent or independent or opinionated. Besides, as my friend said "dating is an instrument, not an end."
But, wow, it takes a lot of time to wade through the detritus in search of a treasure. Ain't nobody got time for that!
Anyway, I worked today, at work (see? BUSY). I mean, it wasn't FOR my regular job, but I did go up there to get some stuff done. I work better up there, I have to admit. There aren't any distractions, no computer, etc. No people, no snacks, just a nice big space (I actually cleaned off my table) and sewing machines that work. I messed up my industrial at home a couple of months ago and haven't gotten it fixed yet, and sewing on a domestic makes me cranky. I feel like I could just weight the pedal, go make dinner and then come back and do the next seam. SO SLOW. And I had to get the thing done today. The thing being a christening dress for a friend's granddaughter who needs it for TOMORROW.
There is a possibility that I procrastinate sometimes. Don't judge. I'M BUSY.
As a brief respite from working today, I went to the interior decorating fabric store with a friend to find fabric so I can redo the cushion on his antique settee. No lie, it's fun spending other people's money, even if it isn't for me. He finds a fabric he likes and goes for it. $50/yd, no biggie. If it turns out he doesn't like the fabric, meh, we'll do it over (he's paying me). My reaction? Blink...blink...blink. When I reupholster my furniture, I head over the to cheap home fabrics store and buy the stuff that's clearanced for $5/yd or less. Like I said, spending other people's money is fun.
After finding fabric he liked, we jaunted on over to Starbucks for scones (where he made fun of my proper pronunciation of the word) and coffee, or spiced cider, in my case. Then, we chatted. I love chatting with this man. He's very intelligent, intellectual, liberal, well read, funny and challenging. He makes me rethink my views and opinions on some things in a way no one else does. It's very stimulating, and also sometimes frustrating. He's also VERY opinionated, but so am I and it's rather delightful, the debates we get into. He got me into a corner today and then laughed and said "Don't argue with me, I'm very good." I told him that was my line and he needed to not steal it.
During the course of the conversation, he asked me if I was dating anybody yet. I said no, he said why not, I said dating is a pain in the ass. Especially if one is a Mormon Feminist. It narrows the field considerably. His response? "You should give up being a Mormon, then." I thought this was really interesting. Yes, I have issues with a lot of the culture of the LDS Church. Being a Feminist, that is sort of unavoidable. I even have some issues with what many perceive as the doctrine of the LDS Church. The difference being that I think those things are policy, not doctrine, and may change some day. But, that is a different post, and one I will probably never write on here. While this may be the blog of a Mormon Feminist, it is not A Mormon Feminist Blog, though I do frequent many of those. But, I digress.
I had to pause for a minute and figure out how to explain why that wasn't the sort of thing I could just "give up" so I could date more. What it boils down to is this; Being a Mormon is foundational to my self identity. I have a strong conviction of the truth of the doctrine found in the Gospel we have here. It directs, in a certain sense, how I choose to live my life and the choices I make in my life, and how I make those choices. So much of the culture I live in here drives me CRAZY. It's sexist and conservative and classist and often unchristian and judgy, honestly, and it makes it hard to engage in a general sense. But, I can't and won't give it up, because the doctrine rings true for me.
I can't give up being Mormon any more than I can give up being feminist or intelligent or independent or opinionated, all things that make dating hard. Not only does that narrow the field of men that are interested in me, but it narrows the field of men in whom I am interested. I had a few men on a dating site I was on tell me they thought it brave of me to admit that I was a feminist in my profile, because it would mean a lot fewer men would be interested in messaging me. Blink blink. Um, guess what? If they are put off by me being a feminist, I'd just as soon they NOT message me....not my kind of guy, methinks. I'm not afraid to put that I'm a Mormon in my profile, either. I am one.
If I have to give up something, I'll give up dating. I won't give up Mormon or feminist or intelligent or independent or opinionated. Besides, as my friend said "dating is an instrument, not an end."
But, wow, it takes a lot of time to wade through the detritus in search of a treasure. Ain't nobody got time for that!
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Love or Bust...usually bust.
I went out with a friend and former lover last night. We had a lovely dinner, went to the symphony...and talked...and talked...and talked. Until 3 in the morning. It was delightful, soul filling, aggravating and raw. I love that kind of thing. I love rawness and openness and honesty in relationships. I love those kinds of friends or lovers who see into your soul and not just like what they see there, but crave it. One doesn't come upon them very often, so when they do come along, I have a tendency to grasp them and hang on.
But, it isn't just that they crave what is within you, because that isn't enough. You have to crave them in the same way. There are things about them that hurt you, anger you, make you grit your teeth with frustration. Because that's what these people do, they arouse great passions in you, and you in them. But, the good parts? Oh, they are so good, they are so worth it. Because they do arouse great passion. They hurt you, but they are the balm to your soul. They anger you, but fill you with such joy, they make you grit your teeth in frustration, but provide such satisfaction.
Relationships like this are often rocky, seemingly unstable, but once firmly established, the rockiness provides texture and the instability goes away. Because you know no matter how angry they make you, no matter how they may hurt you (usually inadvertently), you know they love you and you them. You know that your souls belong together and that they will forgive you and you will forgive them and they will love you.
When you have a friend or lover like this, someone who sees into your soul, someone you allow into your inner keep, they have a great capacity to wound and hurt, because by inviting them in, you have handed them a knife, removed your armour, showed them your most vulnerable spots and trusted them to not stab or cut you. But sometimes, they do cut you, though not often on purpose.
I love him because he challenges me. I love him because he makes me rethink what I have thought. I love him because he loves humanity. I love him because he is raw and honest and broken, but he continues to love. I love him because he makes me more me, by virtue of being him.
I love him because he is my friend.
But, it isn't just that they crave what is within you, because that isn't enough. You have to crave them in the same way. There are things about them that hurt you, anger you, make you grit your teeth with frustration. Because that's what these people do, they arouse great passions in you, and you in them. But, the good parts? Oh, they are so good, they are so worth it. Because they do arouse great passion. They hurt you, but they are the balm to your soul. They anger you, but fill you with such joy, they make you grit your teeth in frustration, but provide such satisfaction.
Relationships like this are often rocky, seemingly unstable, but once firmly established, the rockiness provides texture and the instability goes away. Because you know no matter how angry they make you, no matter how they may hurt you (usually inadvertently), you know they love you and you them. You know that your souls belong together and that they will forgive you and you will forgive them and they will love you.
When you have a friend or lover like this, someone who sees into your soul, someone you allow into your inner keep, they have a great capacity to wound and hurt, because by inviting them in, you have handed them a knife, removed your armour, showed them your most vulnerable spots and trusted them to not stab or cut you. But sometimes, they do cut you, though not often on purpose.
I love him because he challenges me. I love him because he makes me rethink what I have thought. I love him because he loves humanity. I love him because he is raw and honest and broken, but he continues to love. I love him because he makes me more me, by virtue of being him.
I love him because he is my friend.
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