A Conversation about Books

I love reading.

Books are my happy place. Always have been. I don't remember a time that being in a book store didn't make me ridiculously giddy.

Except today.

Today being in Barnes and Noble made me angry. It made me angry for a few reasons.

1. The "Men's Interest" section (which I've spoken about before) still has the same set up.
Fishing, hunting, having rock hard abs, half naked women, guns, fast cars. There were no Men of Colour on any of those magazines. Not a single one. This also goes back to the sad societal fact that Men are regarded as cavemen. They are incapable of feeling anything except for raging lust and the desire to kill things. We, as a society, have decided that this is what the definition of Masculinity IS. There is no room for people who are different. Especially if they are of a different ethnicity. Because we like to WHITE WASH everything.

2. The "American History" section.
In this section of the store I counted only 3 or 4 books that were dedicated to People of Colour. And none of them were dedicated to peoples from the Asian continent. One book was on escaped Slave narratives (which ARE important to American History, but ONE is NOT enough!), one book was written by Condoleeza Rice, one was about Rosa Parks and one about a Military Officer's wife during a Crow Indian uprising. I only count that one because it does involve Native peoples. As a book ABOUT Native Peoples... That's debatable. That's it. And the American History shelves were rather large. They could've held a whole shelf dedicated to Civil Rights, Emancipation, Native People's history, etc. Did they? Nope. Not at all.

3. The "Civil War" section.
In this section there were literally NO books on Peoples of Colour. None. And I saw ONE book on Women. That was it. I do believe the Civil War was an integral part of History, but there were more than WHITE MEN involved in that period of Time.

4. The "World History" section.
Basically it was all European history with a smidgen of African history thrown in for good measure. There was a small amount of Middle Eastern history, but almost exclusively in how it correlated to America. Last I checked that was NOT the extent of the World...

5. The Store in General.
I wandered around the store and found very few books that pertained to People of Colour or were written by People of Colour except in the Classics sections... This bothers me. Not just because its all White Washed all the time, but because Authors of Colour write books ALL THE TIME. Not just way back when.

So, I think from now on I'll shop at Second-hand stores or online where I can find variety that isn't completely white washed and only about Men.

"I Can't Breathe."

I am at a loss for words.

Normally I can't hold back from ranting about things. Especially like this. Especially like now.

I don't know what to say. Every time I try to speak, I just can't.

"I can't breathe."

"Atticus--" said Jemm bleakly. He turned in the doorway.

"What, son?"
"How could they do it? How could they?"
"I don't know but they did it. They've done it before and they did it tonight and they'll do it again and when they do it--seems that only children weep."

- Harper Lee, "To Kill a Mockingbird"

(Photo belongs to "Humans of New York")

10 reasons I asked if there was another way out of Barnes & Noble

Today, while I was at Barnes and Noble with my friend Kid, I met an author. His name is "Cousin Vinny." At least, that's what he chooses to go by. He was trying very hard to get me to buy his $27 book (paperback, mind you).

He apparently used to be a Soap Opera star, now turned Christian ("I have some spirituality in me") author. He spent 20 minutes raving about how wonderful his book ("The Devil's Glove") was (read: He was raving about how wonderful HE was). He told me that this book would "change your life" and is the best book for "preventing suicide."

He bragged about how he had "NEVER had a bad review" and then proceeded to hand me all of his reviews (in small time Christian newspapers and local papers), they were laminated mind you. Not only were they laminated, but he had apparently memorized each one. He handed me a review and proceeded to recite the whole article, verbatim.

He told me that there was literally no other book with that plot anywhere (spoiler: Its about baseball and Satan). When I mentioned that it was somewhat similar to "The Screwtape Letters" by C.S. Lewis, he swiftly denied it. "Those are two demons fighting over a human. This is ANGELS and demons fighting over a human. God and Satan battling for his soul." (I'm paraphrasing only a little there, this is how the guy talked)

He told me that the writing was the best I'd ever seen and that this would be my favorite book, ever. I sampled the writing while I was standing there... Let's just say it was nothing to write home about. He wrote like he spoke. Not very well.

I am saddened to say that a Pastor reviewed it as being a blend of "Paradise Lost, the Bible and Field of Dreams." Which is very disheartening for Milton and the Bible. To be compared to this is, well, its not a nice compliment in my opinion.

He emphasized that he was a "messenger" (the God part was implied) and when I asked why he didn't go by his real name (Louis Anthony Agnello Jr) he said it was his publisher's idea. It would be easier to "remember."

I told him that "Cousin Vinny" reminded me of Joe Pesci.
He said "Exactly!"
I said "I don't like Joe Pesci."
Taken aback, he said "You don't?"
I said "No. Joe Pesci does not endear me to your book."
To which he laughed, half-quoting me in disbelief.

Also, this guy has no concept of the term "personal space." (His breath isn't so great either) He kept touching me, as if I were an old friend, not a complete STRANGER. I'm not public property, get your paws off.

After I escaped him (it took about 20 minutes, mind you) I literally asked an employee if there was another way out of the store besides the front door because I didn't want to walk past him again. The employee was seriously taken aback and informed me that there was not. But also said that if I warn the front desk that I'm going make a run for it they won't think I'm stealing.

So now, I have a mission. Somewhat. I'm going to read this book, if only to write a terrible review of it. It seems only fitting that I do so, seeing as how I've reviewed the author. You're welcome, "Cousin Vinny," for the "first" bad review you've received.

The following is an open letter to "Cousin Vinny" recounting the experience.

Dear Louis Anthony "Cousin Vinny" Agnello (or "10 reasons I asked if there was another way out of Barnes & Noble"),

1. I am not public property able to be touched because I'm in your space. Just because we are inhabiting the same area does not make me less than human or give you the right to just touch when you feel like it. Did I give you permission?

2. Bragging about your Stripping days in the same breath as you're bragging about how wonderful your book is does not make me want to read it. Especially when you keep saying you are a "messenger" (the "from God" being implied by your "I have some spirituality in me" comments).

3. You don't even KNOW ME, so how can you "guarantee" that YOUR book is going to be my "favorite book?"

4. You're trying really hard to get me to buy your book, but I feel like you're really just trying to explain to me why your penis is the biggest the world has ever seen. And I'm sorry, but I'm just not buying it.

5. Memorizing your laminated accolades doesn't make you seem cool, it makes you seem pathetic.

6. I am half tempted to read your book simply to give it a bad review. Seriously, you tell me how the writing is "the best" and that your story is "the most original" (fun fact: You're not original) and that the copies you are trying to hock are going to be "collector's items" because you are leaving that particular publisher, but I read a sample while I listened to you ramble and your writing style is similar to a 13 year old's. Seriously, I've seen better writing styles in Children's books. You write like you talk. Not very well.

7. You're visiting small towns in the Bible belt, of course this book is going to "sell like hot cakes."

8. Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot. You play like you're the "Devil" just for a scenario, but you're in my face telling me I'm worthless. The difference, as I told you, is that I KNOW I'm NOT worthless. My worth is more than reading your book though. Seriously, how could you possibly think that would make me want to read it? Pretending that you are the Devil and that this book is going to save me from Suicide and save my soul... Dude, you don't even know my Soul!

9. "The Devil's Glove" is a terrible name. It sounds worse than cliched. And trust me, I've read some pretty cliched books. (Usually in the genre you are in)

10. "Are you big readers?" Nope. I walked into Barnes & Noble because I like the scenery. Never read a book in my life.

I could go on and on, really. This was the worst meeting with an author I've ever had. And I didn't want to meet you in the first place! Thanks for telling me all about your schedule though, because I now know to avoid B&N until Friday when you leave for St. Louis.

Sincerely,
Sarai.

Post Script: Don't laugh at me because I said "Joe Pesci does not endear me to your book." I was being quite serious. Going by his character name really doesn't make you more likable.

The Bechdel Test and Manhood.

I always find it so encouraging when Men stand up for the fight against Patriarchy and Rape Culture. It isn't that we need male saviours, it is that we need friends who are willing to back us up in any situation.

I also love that he talked about one of my favorite movies "The Wizard of Oz." (Which passes the Bechdel Test, fyi.)

It is SO empowering to know that you are not standing alone, but that you are standing with other people who know and understand and WANT to help.

I love this.

Beastly: A Review

Today I watched a movie with my friend Saira.



This wasn't an all together awful movie. But it was terribly cliched.

Things I didn't like about this movie:

• What is up with "stalking" being portrayed as "sweet" or "sexy" recently?
• Blackmail is also not sexy.
• Trapping someone with you isn't romantic.
• The use of the words "slut" and "skank."

Things I did like about this movie:

• Neil Patrick Harris.
• Mary-Kate Olsen as Kendra. Kendra was pretty much my favorite in this film.
• Kyle's tree tattoo.

Of course, watching this movie made me think about a few things.

1. Even though "Beauty and the Beast" is one of my favorite movies/stories, it is definitely not romantic. It is portrayed as such, but when you really delve into it nothing could be farther from the truth.
2. The liberal use of the word "slut" is a cultural epidemic. Seriously. Why do we care so much about someone else's supposed sexual life? Why is it insulting to imply that someone is having a lot of sex? There is nothing wrong with sex!! There is nothing wrong with someone having a lot of sex. Either with one person or multiple. It really, REALLY, bothers me.
3. What is up with our views of "stalking"? Its creepy that Kyle (Alex Pettyfer) follows Lindy (Vanessa Ann Hudgens) around. And, somehow, he is absolved of said creepiness because he saves her life. Really? He saves her life so suddenly its all cool beans?
4. Stockholm Syndrome. That's all I have to say on that point.

The music was half-way decent. Kendra (Mary-Kate Olsen) was awesome. The movie was meh. Probably a 1 out of 5 stars. Maybe 1 and 1/2. I definitely wouldn't watch it again.

2014

Happy New Year!

Let's take a moment to look back at the last moments of 2013:
Last food eaten: Chocolate
Last movie watched: "Bunraku" (Starring the beautiful Gackt and the sexy Josh Hartnett)
Last song listened to: "Eden" by Sara Bareilles
Last book read: "The Unscary Scarecrow" by John Patience

And now, some of the firsts of 2014:
First thing done: Kissed my husband.
First song: "High Society" by Betty Who
First website visited: Facebook (duh!)
First food: Pumpkin Spice & Caramel Ghiradelli Chocolate Square (I'm a fancy bitch)
First drink: Smirnoff Ice Screwdriver
First text received: From Kid (Happy New Year!)

Here's to all the firsts and the lasts!

Welcome 2014!

In Defense of Short Hair

The following is in response to an article I came across thanks to a friend on Facebook.
http://totalfratmove.com/why-girls-should-not-cut-their-hair-short/

~

To the frat boy who seems to think that short hair automatically makes a woman ugly,

In case you haven't looked in the mirror recently, you aren't such a peach yourself.

I promised myself that I wouldn't stoop to your level, because that would be insulting to ME. And my mother used to say "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all." However, my mother also taught me to stand up for what I believe is right. So, instead of letting you continue, I'm going to stop you right there and I won't let you finish.

Boys (I wouldn't call you a man, because real MEN don't act the sexist pig) like to claim that sexism doesn't exist. And, if it does, it is most definitely MISANDRY, because Feminists are all man-hating bull dykes who make it impossible for a perfectly nice man to live with his simple pleasures. Feminists come in and ruin a perfectly good party or a perfectly good lay or a perfectly good "dumb blonde" joke because they're ugly and can't get a man.

The funny thing is that the term "feminist" is not limited to women of a homosexual nature. In fact, there are a lot of MEN (there's that word again and, no, it doesn't mean what YOU think it means) and women of varying sexual orientation, skin color and beauty make up the word. You think you can set limits, but in reality, it has to do with a collective conscience. All of us, who are living in the 21st century, realize that NONE of us are EQUAL until ALL of us are EQUAL. Meaning, that women should be able to *gasp* cut their hair, shave or not shave, dress how they want, etc. All things that men have been able to do.

And yes, Misandry does exist! It exists because BOYS believe that MEN can't express any feminine traits without being "gay," "pussy-whipped" or "weak." Misandry exists because BOYS don't know how to be MEN and they live like petulant assholes for the rest of their lives.

So, welcome to the 21st Century. Believe it or not Women can do any of the following:

* Vote
* Have Sex with WHOMEVER THEY PLEASE
* Dress how they want
* CUT THEIR HAIR
* Drive
* Have as many children as they want
* Go where they want
* Read
* Write
* Not shave their legs, privates or under-arms
* Own their own property
* Get a divorce from an asshole who thinks cutting their hair makes them ugly

Sincerely,
The Girl whose Husband helped her cut her hair short, because she wanted it that way, and who is still beautiful despite your stupidity.

Brushing off the Dust

For anyone who is interested, I just wanted to say that I am brushing some of the dust off my story "All of Her," which I've not finished yet.

I'm hoping to rework some of it and actually get it finished, but I'll need your support!

For anyone interested in reading what I've already written (pre-edits, by the way) you can find them at:
http://septembertarantella.blogspot.com look under January of 2013. There IS a prologue, so make sure you start with that.

Feel free to comment or otherwise show support. And feel free to share my writing blog with your friends!!

This has been a self-plug announcement from Sarai, we'll return to your irregularly scheduled insanity shortly.

A Dozen Reasons

A friend of mine on Facebook posted the following image:



This was my response.
1. Dogs aren't sentient beings who can sign a marriage certificate and the fact that we relate homosexual people to animals is wrong in every sense of the word. (And if we are going biblically, I can think of several people I know who have sexual intercourse outside of marriage, which is also a sin. And lots of politicians like to have affairs, which is also a sin. And eating pig meat/touching pigs is a sin. The list of sins goes on and on. Someone loving someone else shouldn't be up for some politician to decide on.)

2. Oil companies make millions of dollars a year off of gasoline and they pay less taxes on it than you and I do.

3. The government shouldn't be spending our money on prisons, guns and what not when they could be spending it on feeding our children, fixing our roads and providing proper healthcare and education for the future voters.

4. You DO have freedom of speech. There are consequences for EVERY action. You can say what you like, doesn't mean that you should.

5. Its not about whether or not YOU are responsible enough to own a gun; its about making it safe for everyone and still maintaining the Second Amendment, which says nothing about being able to own whatever gun you want. For example: You live near a seemingly nice individual. He has been proven to be mentally unstable and has been in and out of the hospital for increasingly terrifying paranoid episodes where he believes everyone is trying to attack him. There is no background check for his mental history. He is able to purchase a gun and then he loses it and shoots a bunch of people up. Including children. I'm sorry, I just don't feel like someone who has been proven to be mentally unhinged should be allowed to have a weapon of any kind.

6. Global Warming is brought to you by Scientists and not Weathermen, so this argument is both invalid and silly. I don't know about driving a Prius, but you don't have to be any political party to care about whether or not your planet is being taken care of.

7. I do care about babies dying. I care about the millions of little children that are starving in the United States alone. I care about a young woman who has been raped and is being forced to carry the child of said rapist simply because someone's beliefs are different. I don't hold to Abortions. I don't like them. But I believe they should be safe and legal if someone should have to have one. And no one should judge what someone else is going through unless they've been through it themselves.

8. I think everyone should be able to have free health care. Health is part of the pursuit of life, happiness and liberty. And we were all illegal immigrants way back when we got here. That is not to say that I approve of disregarding immigration laws, because I don't. But if someone comes here illegally and tries to make up for it by becoming a legitimate citizen they deserve the same treatment as a legitimate citizen.

9. Businesses should be able to profit without beggaring the people that work for them. Wal-Mart makes millions of dollars a year while the majority of their employees have to be put on Government programs to take care of themselves. $7.25/hour is not enough to survive on in this day and age. Minimum wage in other countries that can compete with ours on economic levels are upwards of $16/hour.

10. No one is trying to re-write the constitution. However, no one seems to try to actually follow it either. Freedom of Speech, freedom of Religion, etc.

11. Actually the majority of our oil comes from here. Followed closely by Canada and Latin America. Only 12% of our oil comes from the Persian Gulf, while almost 40% comes from here.

12. I used to be a Republican. I started doing research and listening to other people's points of view. I started reading books and trying to understand where other people stood on different topics. I came away with the belief that I may never change the world, but I could change how I viewed it. Instead of being told what to believe I decided what I wanted to believe. And that's part of the reason I vote Democrat. I still vote from some Republicans, but I pay very close attention to where they stand on certain issues and I do my research, ALWAYS. I don't want to be led when I can lead.

Barbara.

A lot of stuff has been happening recently, so I've been more than a little absent. This is only one small slice of the greater issues, but it is still an important piece.

On Saturday night my Aunt Barbara passed away after a long battle with Alzheimer's, a disease that also claimed my grandmother in 2011 and my great-grandmother years ago.

My Aunt Barbara was an amazing woman and I already miss her like crazy.

Today at the funeral I just kept thinking of all the wonderful memories, a little cache I have from my childhood that I keep for rainy days. And I want to share a few with you.

When I was a little girl, my Aunt Barbara gave me books about Princess Diana. Why? Because after I heard about Princess Di's death on the radio I wanted to know more about her. She gave me three or four books that I read and re-read, for years.

There were many times that Chris, Hannah and I would be at Aunt Barb's house and we would play with her dogs and watch "Free Willy." It was one of my favorite movies for a long time because of watching it at her house.

One time she recorded Chris and I singing Judy Garland songs (we were obsessed with her and sang her songs ALL the time, poorly I might add). She saved those videos and gave them to me a few years later.
She always smiled. I don't remember ever seeing her frown. Even when I knew she was sad. She was an amazing lady and I am so sad to have lost her.

The good news is I will always have these beautiful memories to pull out when I'm sad and miss her.

Rest in Peace Aunt Barb. Tell Grandma and Grandpa I said hi.

A Girl named Anne.

Recently Justin Bieber has been in the news for a rather controversial note he wrote in the Anne Frank House's guest book. For those of you who have been unaware (lucky you!) here is what he wrote:

“Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a belieber.”

Now, my biggest problem isn't what he wrote (though we'll cover that in a moment). It is all of his fans asking "Who is Anne Frank?"

This outrages me. HOW can you NOT know who Anne Frank is/was? What are you being taught in school that you skipped over this important piece of history?

Here, let me enlighten you:
Anne Frank was a young girl living in Amsterdam during World War II. She was Jewish and her family hid from the Nazis in what Anne termed the "Secret Annex." She dreamed of being a writer and she kept a diary during her time in hiding. She, and her family, were discovered and taken to Bergen-Belsen (a concentration camp) where she, and her older sister Margot, most likely died of typhus. She was 15.

Her diaries were published 1947, by her father, Otto Frank. He was the only survivor of their family.

When I was about thirteen or so, my grandfather gave me "Anne Frank: The diary of a young girl" for Christmas. It was one of the most precious gifts he ever gave me. I was Anne's age (when she started her diary) at the time. I remember the impact it made on my life. My sadness that this bright light had been snuffed out so early in her life. My heart still aches whenever I think of this brilliant young woman who never had the chance to properly shine.

What angers me the most isn't Justin's comment, though it was uncouth in the situation, it is that so many young people have no idea who this beautiful young woman was. And they have no interest in finding out!

America is lacking in Education. We spend more on our weapons and our wars than we do our children. Prisoners get better educations than some of our children.

For example: The US ranks 14th in Reading, 25th in Maths and 17th in Science as compared to Finland (purported to have the best educational system in the world) which is ranked 2nd in Reading and Maths and 1st in Science. If you don't believe me you can have a look at the following chart created by PISA (Program for International Student Assessment) of the top 34 countries.



This isn't the only comment to outrage me lately (as to education).

As many of you know, I am a huge BioShock fan. Recently BioShock Infinite came out (a game I have waited a couple years for) and I was pleased with the historical details it went into.

A, somewhat, brief synopsis of the game: BioShock Infinite is much like its predecessors in that it covers different ways blind belief and -isms can destroy us. Unlike the previous two, we were not in Rapture. We are no longer in the world originally created around Andrew Ryan (Ayn Rand) and Objectivism (Ayn Rand's philosophy). We are in Columbia (not the country Columbia), a world in the sky and very much like America in 1912, partially because it is an extension of America.

There are a few historical battles mentioned in the game. Namely Wounded Knee and the Boxer Rebellion.

There was a comment that my husband found by someone who played the game. It said "BioShock makes the best Skyrim references" and had a picture of the Battle of Wounded Knee sign in the game. He was referring to the "I was an adventurer like you, but then I took an arrow to the knee" line said multiple times by various guards in Skyrim. He seemed blissfully unaware that there was a real event called the Battle of Wounded Knee.

I've said this before, I know I have, but if we don't learn from the past how are we to ever survive the future? How will our children make it in this world? What happens when we all stop learning, when we all stop reading? What happens? What happens when we forget young women like Anne Frank and battles like Wounded Knee? What happens when we no longer bother?

To Justin: Your comments were inconsiderate and uncouth. You didn't come across as being cute or witty. You came across as ignorant and proud. Too proud to realize how much of an ass you made yourself look like. Anne Frank wasn't your typical teenage girl. She probably wouldn't have floundered at your feet. If anything, I think she wouldn't have liked you at all. If you had read her diary maybe you would realize she wasn't into the whole self-appreciation crap.

I used to think you were funny Justin. I didn't like your music, but you were a cool kid. I hate the person you have become. You are so self-absorbed and rude. So proud and arrogant. I hope, one day, that you grow out of it.

A Newer Year

Happy New Year Everyone!

Wow! Hard to believe 2012 is over already! Isn't it crazy to think about?

I'm personally excited about this New Year. It's all shiny and polished, like a pearl waiting to be set in the jewelry of life. I can't wait to see what happens this year!

Here is what I want for this shiny and beautiful New Year.

1. Write the good things that happen during the year on slips of paper and put into an empty jar. At the end of the year I will open the jar and read about all the wonderful things that happened during 2013, instead of reflecting on all the bad.

2. Keep a journal (better than I have been).

3. Put aside money each month.

4. Exercise and lose weight.

5. Read as much as possible. Read anything and everything.

6. Utilize LiveMocha and other resources to begin the journey to my Linguistics degree.

7. Finish "All of Her," "The Lion and the Unicorn," and one other randomly picked (previously abandoned) project.

8. Finally apply to school.

9. Stop being afraid to be me.

10. Be Happy.

Racism: A Universal Language.

It has been said that Love is a universal language. A smile can be understood in any tongue. But racism is also universal. Discrimination and hatred can be understood no matter what language you speak or where you are from. The saddest thing is that even in today's "advanced society" (I use the terms "advanced" and "society" loosely [as society is defined as an organized group of persons associated together for religious, benevolent, cultural, scientific, political, patriotic, or other purposes. And advanced is defined as ahead or far or further along in progress, complexity, knowledge, skill, etc.]) there is racial dissension and hatred, solely for being different.

Despite my naivete, I have been fully aware of the hatred that so called "society" can engender in others against someone who is different. I was always a different child. I was overweight and I read a lot of books. I have always been told that I was very intelligent, intelligence can be frightening to someone who doesn't appreciate the need for education. And of course this all stems from some form of fear. Which is saddening.

When I was a child, I didn't hate things I was scared of. I was afraid of it. Often this made me want to learn more about it. When I was afraid of vampires, I researched them and discovered all the wonderful mythology Stephanie Meyer could've found if she had bothered to research for "Twilight." But that is neither here nor there. I'm afraid of spiders, but I don't hate them. Well, I might say I hate them, but I actually don't. I am just scared of them and don't want them crawling on me. I don't want any bugs crawling on me.

I'm afraid of dying, but that doesn't mean I hate death. I try to understand it. Why do we all die? Things like that.

My point is this, racism, like love, can be understood no matter who you are. And it is LEARNED. No one is born with hate. No one is born with love either. We learn these things. We learn to hate, to love, to react. And if we are still teaching our children to hate then this universal language remains vibrant and prevalent. An unfortunate disease of an "enlightened" society.

A perfect example of this universal language is the following video. This young woman was, in fact, white. But she was French. And different from the other Aussies on the bus. It's sad that just singing in French could trigger this violent attack against her. But it isn't unheard of.

The Ring of Roses

Mama's face is hot and flushed. Her once creamy complexion is now worryingly florid.

Our neighbours stay away and have taken to lighting bundles of twigs around our house to warn others. We all know that it means death is visiting. We are called "roses," my sister and I, and people cross themselves as we walk by. They ring the house, at night, with fire, hoping to cleanse the air of disease. It won't work. It never does.

Mama insists we keep posy petals in our pockets to protect us from what we cannot see. She is delirious oftentimes and can't seem to see that it is too late. Papa died last week and my sister and I dragged him out to be burned with the myriad of other dead.

We had been safe, but then Mama's face, once so clear and bright, became something else. The blisters gathered, like a vulture to carrion, around her beautiful lips and the "roses" bloomed upon her cheeks. My older sister, Mary, tends her while I chop wood for our meager fire.

The ashes. The ashes fall down, they are forever falling, and they leave nothing untouched. There is no respite to this wickedness, this plague. Only the ashes. The fires, the ashes, the stench. It never ends. All of the men in our village, those who have not died, pile the corpses in the ditches and light them. These, once human, torches blaze so brightly that day and night are indistinguishable. And the ashes fall like snow over the trees and the pastures.

Mama collapses and Mary tries to lift her. But they have both become too weak. The roses have bloomed on Mary's cheeks and it is only a matter of time before she succumbs to this terrible curse.

I place her rosary about her neck and begin to plead with the Virgin to spare what is left of my family. My cries fall on deaf ears, for, in the morning, I discover my mother dead.

There is a ring around the roses, a small ring of light to brighten the night as I bury my mother with a pocket full of posies. The ashes, the ever-present ashes, fall into my hair and my eyelashes as I struggle to lay my sister to rest.

It comes for us all, in time. From the strongest of men to the weakest of babes.

We all fall down.

All of Her: Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

"You what?" He asks, a quizzical look on his face.

"I still love you." I say, simply. I shrug, as if to say I don't get it either.

"I thought you hated me." He says, his voice somewhat mocking and full of unrepentance.

"Of course I hate you. And I love you. I wish you were dead and I wish you were inside of me. I wish we had never met, but I wish you were still mine. I'll probably always love you, David. We were together for a long time. We were in love for a long time, or so I thought. I may never stop being mixed up when it comes to you. Part of me loathes this confusion and part of me wishes it would go on forever because it is a connection to you. All this doesn't matter though."

"Why is that?" He looks tired. Is he exhausted by his sins? Or is he just tired of having to put up with my rambling? I've lost all sense of who and what I am during this time of rebellious destruction. Will it matter if I say what needs to be said? I am suddenly full of doubts. I've done all this for nothing. He'll never understand me and I'll never understand him.

"I have to let you go." I say, all of my body slowly caving in, much like a flan left in a cupboard. I have no strength left, no more bravado. I am just a broken-hearted girl, full of unfulfilled hopes and deferred dreams. I feel like a raisin forgotten in the withering gaze of the sun.

For a moment he doesn't say anything. He just stares at me. He sucks in a deep breath and let's it puff out into the night air.

"What happens now?" he asks.

"I let you go and begin to repair my life. What's left that I haven't destroyed, that is."

"Just like that?" he asks, puzzled.

"I need a change of scenery." I say, throwing my arms out wide as if to grasp the sky. "I need time, but I am determined to let your memory fade to the point of death."

"That's morbid." he says.

"I don't know how else to say it," I cry. "I can't let you continue to exist inside of me, no matter how much I want you to. You have to be let go and for that I need the memories of you to die."

He stares at me, but I can't stand it. I have to get out of here.

"You hurt me, David, surely you can see that? Most of it I've let you do. I let you walk away without a fight, believing I was doing the right thing by you and my best friend. I let you be my entire world when I wasn't even in yours. I let you destroy me. I used you as an excuse to destroy myself. I can't do that anymore. I can't continue to love you, I can't continue to punish myself pretending I am hurting you. I haven't hurt you at all, except for maybe your nose.

"I gave you my virginity. I gave you some of the best and worst years of my life. I can't take them back from you. I can't take anything back. And there are so many things I wish I could. If I could I would take back that moment when I let you in so far that I couldn't think about anything else. I would take back all those years I spent loving you, caring for you, being with you. I wish I could give those times back to myself, maybe share some of them with Alice. Maybe I'd have tried to stop you from hurting her the way you hurt me. Maybe I'd just let her have all that time, because she clearly loves you."

"Why let her have that time?" He interrupts, confusion clouding his features. Or maybe it is the tears in my eyes that are clouding things.

"I would give it to Alice because she loves you. Because I would give anything to still be her friend, the friend that I used to know. I wish I could take those years she spent trying to ignore her feelings and give them back to her. You don't deserve her, David. You never did. You didn't deserve me either. But that isn't the point, is it? I'm just rambling now."

"Something you have always done." he points out.

"I hate you." I say. No venom, no anger. A simple statement. It is the simplicity of it that makes him stop short and look at me. Possibly looking at me for the first time. I feel the phantom of our first time making love. I feel the phantoms of him proposing, of our life together. I feel them all and I let them go, drifting under the bridge and out to open water, like candles on the water. I don't try to hold onto them. I don't try to erase them. I let them come and I let them go.

"I hated you." I say. "I can't let hating you destroy me any longer. I loved you and I am going to learn to let you go. I should've let you go long ago. The past can't be undone, but I'm not going to let you control my future. I have to let you go."

"Why bring me here? Why tell me all of this then?" He is getting angry, like a vengeful spirit fighting against the tide of banishment.

"Because you had to hear it. Because I thought it would make it easier for myself. Because I have to purge myself, I guess. You're like a drug and I'm trying to go to rehab. You're like a ghost and I'm exorcising you. I'm done, darling. And as part of my treatment, my closure, you had to hear it." I approach him, he backs up cautiously.

"Goodbye." I say, standing on my tip toes to kiss him, softly, on the mouth. I begin to walk away and he doesn't try to stop me. He doesn't try to follow me either, something I am thankful for. It's time to let him go and it is time to move on.

I don't know how long I walk, but I find myself back at my car by the book store. I lean against the car and stare at the sky for a few minutes. I no longer feel chilled. I no longer feel like I have to destroy myself. I feel a little lighter. I call Clark and ask him to come fly kites with me. I call Noah to come as well and we all congregate on the beach.

While the kites drift lazily above us, I tell Clark and Noah everything. The plans I had made, the things I have done. I leave nothing out. I conclude with David and I on the bridge. Breathless and teary, I look up at my friends and wonder what they think of me now. I used Clark and I have ignored Noah. To my surprise, and happiness, they both hug me at the same time.

"Buck up, little camper." Noah says. "The worst is over. And now that you recognize that you can't keep doing this we can begin to change it."

"We'll always be here to help you." says Clark, kissing my forehead.

We watch the sunrise over the beach, our kites waving like happy children to greet the dawn.

"I'm moving," I say, after a few quiet moments.

"Where?" asks Noah.

"Not far," I say. "just to the next town. I am hoping to try and get my job with the accounting firm back. And I need to change the scene if I'm ever going to move to the next chapter of my life."

"Are you sure you aren't just trying to run away from this whole situation?" Clark asks, gently.

"No, I'm done running. I just can't keep doing what I've been doing and I can't stay stuck in this same rut. I have to move forward and, to do that, I need to move out of here. It's too hard to stay. I'll be running into David and Alice all the time. I'll be running into old lovers all the time."

"Some of your old lovers still love you." Clark says, softly. I know deep down he still wants me, but I can't. I love him as my friend, but not as a lover or husband.

"I know," I say, cautiously. "but it isn't fair to them to have to see me all the time either. I need a change. This is the best way to do it."

Noah, having been quiet most of the conversation, stares at a kite and sighs.

"I suppose," he says. "you'll have to do what you think is best. All we can do is be supportive. I just hope you know what you're doing."

We sit silently on the beach for a time before Clark and Noah eventually head home, leaving me sitting as the sun comes up. I can't help but feel like this is symbolic of my new beginning.

I salute the new born sun before packing up my kite and going home to get some sleep. Today is my new day.

A Church for Saints.

The other night I went to church with one of my girlfriends. This particular friend is a very devout Christian, which I respect, and I have been with her to her church numerous times. I think she is hoping that one of these times I'll receive the Holy Ghost and be saved from myself. Which I also admire. It means she hasn't given up on me. But she also knows me very well and knows that my distance with God has been because of church, not a lack thereof.

I've known this particular friend for almost ten years. We met when I was fourteen and a freshman in high school. At first we didn't really like each other. I thought she was mean. Now I know that she was just teasing to be silly, not mean.

Because I've known her so long I've obviously been to church with her NUMEROUS times. As in, I've been going to this church off and on for almost ten years now.

So it bothers me whenever I go there and almost no one recognizes me. People ask if it's my first time. Or they assume it's my first time, which is even worse! The other thing is that people assume that I've never been to church ever. Which annoys the shit out of me.

See, I grew up in church. I attended church from a very, very, young age right up until I moved to OK when I was nineteen. Was my attendance stellar? No. But I was still a fairly active member in a church up until that point. I've read the Bible numerous times. I used to have huge sections memorized. I still have verses memorized.

Go ahead, ask me what Matthew 4:4 says. Go ahead. ("Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.")

Ask me about "Patience is a virtue" (which isn't actually in the Bible) or "The Lord helps those that help themselves."(That is actually from a myth. "The Gods help those that help themselves" is something that is told to Hercules during his twelve labors.) I dare you. It'll be fun!

In all seriousness though, it kind of bothers me after a bit that people are so willing to assume that I'm an idiot. I hate being underestimated. I should take it as a compliment, but it annoys me.

It especially annoys me when people who've only been in church for a few weeks talk to me like I've never read a word of the Bible. They start preaching at me and I hate it! I've been in church longer than you, I've read the Bible all the way through several times. I know my way around the Holy Scriptures and I know what I'm talking about. You've only been in church for a short time and you want to preach at ME? Really?

I'm saying all this because I'm proud of what I know. I honestly don't care if people are impressed or not. I no longer care about knowing that stuff. I know what I know, that's it. I just don't want someone coming up to me and acting like they know everything when they clearly don't.

The other thing I don't like about church (particularly my friend's church) is the looks I receive. I have rather large breasts, I can't help that. And almost everything I wear accents them, much to my chagrin. Don't look at me like I'm a whore because you can see some cleavage. I'm not a whore. I don't need saving. Thanks, keep walking.

I don't know. Sometimes it is like you have to already be a venerated Saint to be accepted in a church. Isn't the point of church and coming to God being who you are? A sinner, a wastrel? Aren't you supposed to be imperfect coming before Perfection? Isn't God's love supposed to make you pure?

What about that verse: "Judge not, lest ye be judged."? Since when are we supposed to ignore that?

Of course, we ignore most of what the Bible says anyway. We read in-between the lines looking for a meaning that suits us. We pick and choose verses to live by because they are convenient, not because God actually tells us to.

It bothers me! That's one of the reasons I don't go to church anymore. I got tired of the hypocrisy. The biggest being committed by my ex-step-father.

My sister doesn't know what Sodom and Gomorrah is. She doesn't believe that's in the Bible. Because her father doesn't even pay attention to her. That's sad. The man who forced religion down our throats when he was with us has completely neglected his OWN FLESH AND BLOOD'S religious training. Ridiculous really.

It's people that have ruined Christianity for me. It's God that has ruined God for me. And maybe, as the teacher was saying last night in Bible class, I am treating God like a harlot by running from him and coming back only when I need him. I don't really come back, though. My life has not changed since I stopped believing in Him. I'm just as miserable, just as unlucky, just as downtrodden.

Don't tell me "Rain falls on the just and unjust alike." I've had it up to HERE with that verse. Don't tell me that I am being refined by the Refiner's fire.

I am a human being who suffers, like every other human being. And my belief in God, or disbelief as the case may or may not be, hasn't changed that.

Welcome to the Deluge

Things have been a little crazy recently, due to work and trying to have a personal life (which is still mostly non-existent by the way). I was working a lot. Emphasis on WAS.

Today I am going to work on my resume, have lunch with my husband, watch my brother perform in the cursed Scottish play, pay my car insurance, listen to music, read and talk to Fawn. Sounds like a busy day for me!

Anywho, into the fray of this day I would like to interject this song.

I love it. The whole thing. The song, the video, the singer. It is a gorgeously done video.

Cocoon by Alpines

A Memoir, of Sorts...

I am looking back over the pages of my life's story. Some things I will pass over, pretend they aren't there. Some I will read and re-read lovingly, the pages worn with care. Others I will pause to quietly cry over; things I lost, things I said, people I miss.

Today I am nostalgic. Sometimes this means I am yearning for a simpler time. Admittedly, I have always been kind of an adult. So a simpler time for me was before I realized there was such a thing as the internet and that it could inform me of all the horrors I was missing out on in the BFE. A time back when I believed in one God, who loved everyone. A time when Y2K and the election of George W. Bush were all I knew of the outside world. That and abortion...

It is times like this that I really want to write the whole story down. Finish that memoir I keep starting. I have started it many times over the years. However, it seems silly to write a memoir now while I am still young. Except I've never really felt young. To me, age has always been a number, a silly one at that. Age defines you when, really, it should be your maturity level that defines you. I have never been my biological age.

With that in mind, it makes sense to write that memoir. Get everything down before I am too bogged down to do it. The problem is every time I start it, I find myself bogged down. Too many memories go into a memoir. Both good and bad. If I made a memoir of only the good things I'd be leaving out half the story, which would be unfair to the reader. At the same time, I am afraid to reveal so much of myself.

What if no one likes me? What if no one wants to read about me? What if I leave absolutely no trace of myself on history's pages? What if all I am is a Facebook page of worthless nothingness?

When I was younger I believed I would have a bunch of children (this number varied from 20 to 16 to 5 to none) and they would be my legacy. As I got older, I thought I would do something great with my life and leave my mark that way. Now I don't know how I will leave my mark. Will history remember this blog? Will history remember my story ideas? My poems? Will history be so kind as to remember that I even existed?

Think of all the people who left no mark in the book the history. There have been billions of people on this world. We know so few of them! I don't want to be one of the forgotten masses. Is that wrong?

Am I what is left in the hearts of my friends and family?

I guess part of the reason I am thinking like this is because I have been thinking of the people on the RMS Titanic. I am thinking a lot of history right now, because I love history. Because I love my memories entwined with history's.

I've rambled long enough I suppose. I will have to revisit this idea sometime later... For now, I need sleep.

The One Hundred Years of Titanic

One hundred years ago today the RMS Titanic departed on a maiden voyage from Southampton, England, on a fated journey to New York City, New York. It never reached it's destination, colliding with an iceberg in the North Atlantic Ocean killing 1,514 people.

Now, if you grew up in the 1990's at all, then you are probably aware of Titanic, if only for the movie starring Leo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. Or the song from the movie by Celine Dion (which I'm going to post because of the following: 1. The video makes me cry every time, just like the actual movie and 2. I actually really like the song. Views not shared with me by my husband OR Ms. Winslet).

For me, I have a variety of sweet and interesting memories related to RMS Titanic.

The very first memory I have of Titanic is seeing the movie when I was ten. The year would've been 1998 by my recollection. My younger brother was eight and my little sister was a two-year-old Shirley Temple look-a-like. The reason that we ended up seeing this movie (because all three of us did) was because my mother had a migraine headache.

When I was younger my mom was prone to debilitating migraines. This would induce nausea, tremendous sensitivity to light and sound, and sometimes the only cure was for her to try and sleep it off. This often left me in charge (as my sister's father was never around) and us to our own devices.

At this time we lived just down a dirt and gravel path from my step-father's mother's house. I would go there for knitting lessons or to play with Brutus, one of the Cocker Spaniel dogs kept by Nana and Grand-dad (aka: My step-grandparents). On one such day, being bored, we children walked down to Nana's. When she got tired of us (which was quickly that day) she handed me a video cassette (yes, we had VCR's then!) and told me to take it home and watch it with my siblings so as to give my mother a break.

Have you ever tried explaining a sex scene to a two-year-old and an eight-year-old? Or why the pretty lady is naked? And why is that guy drawing her? What is happening to the ship? What is happening to Jack (Leo's character)? Let's just say it was VERY interesting for everyone involved because my siblings and I had many questions regarding the film, which neither of my parents had seen.

After this I became intrigued with the Titanic disaster. I read a few different books on the subject (it was one of my top ten most checked out subjects besides Jack the Ripper, Lizzie Borden and anything by Edgar Allan Poe. I was a rather morbid child). One of my favorites being "Voyage on the Great Titanic" by Ellen Emerson White as part of the "Dear America" series.

The next encounter I remember with Titanic was in Middle School at 14. In my reading class (the sole purpose of this class was to encourage reading, which I already did copious amounts of) we had a Titanic themed reading party. The classroom was transformed into the North Atlantic Ocean, we were all assigned an actual passenger from RMS Titanic's passenger list, we were visited by an author and we ate food similar to what was eaten on Titanic. And we read a book on it as well. Obviously.

Part of the reason this sticks out in my head is for petty reasons. I can't quite remember who I was on the Titanic, but I was married. And I was married to someone I couldn't actually stand. Hilarious, looking back at it now. It wasn't that he had ever been mean to me, but I was a teenage girl. We hate people because we can, not for any logical reason.

Also during that time a friend made a bet with me that I couldn't watch "Titanic" all the way to the credits without crying. I made it, barely. She didn't. I almost lost it during the part where the elderly couple is in bed, holding each other as the water rushes up to claim them. I remember thinking I wanted a love like that. Of course, part of the reason we were friends was because of our things in common. That was where she lost the bet.

I had an elderly gentleman friend when I was young, a friend of the family. His name was Mr. S. He was born the year the Titanic was launched and, subsequently, sank. He was born in July of that year. He would've been 100. And, on days like this where I am thinking about him, I miss him deeply.

One of the most recent memories I have of "Titanic" is sitting in the hotel room in Virginia, on our first trip to DC. L.E.D wasn't feeling well so Kid and I had gone to get Chinese food. When we got back we caught the last half hour of "Titanic." We quoted lines, making fun of Rose and Jack in their final moments. We laughed and laughed. Even though L.E.D didn't feel well we still had fun.

Another recent memory is from our second trip to DC, when L.E.D and I toured the National Museum of History. There was an exhibit partially dedicated to Titanic, with a reproduction of a skylight and some trunks with period clothing. It was interesting to look up and pretend that I was on the ocean, in Titanic, so near to fate and disaster I could taste it.

These memories are beloved, held close to my heart. They may not be the most beautiful or the most interesting, but they are my memories and, to me, it proves the lasting power of RMS Titanic through the years. Titanic has long outlived her passengers, in our imaginations and our memories. She has made her everlasting stamp on history. And a stamp on my memories.

Rest in Peace Passengers and Crew of the RMS Titanic, lost to the waters of the North Atlantic, April 15th 1912.

A Few Verses to Ponder

Some of you may be wondering why I am about to post "verses to ponder" and what that means. Do I mean song verses? Bible verses? Or did I misspell "versus" and I'm about to blog about him versus her type stuff?

I mean Bible verses. I've had it up to here with people who claim to know the Bible and don't. I'm tired of people picking and choosing which verses they should follow because they are willfully blind to others. So, here are my arguments for my views, as "proven" by the holy scriptures.

"Obey them that have the rule over you, and submit yourselves: for they watch for your souls, as they that must give account, that they may do it with joy, and not with grief: for that is unprofitable for you." - Hebrews 13:17

This is to mean that no matter what we are to OBEY those above us. That means presidents, spiritual leaders, anyone who is in charge over us.

"But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;" - Matthew 5:44

We are to love each other. No matter what they have done to us. And they are to do the same, no matter what we have done to them. It is one of the hardest things we are told to do as Christians.

"Whoever hates his brother is a murderer: and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him." - I John 3:15

Hate is not what Jesus wants us to do. I say Jesus, because God hates everyone in the Old Testament. Don't believe me? Go ahead, go read it for yourself. You will be surprised.

"If anyone says, I love God, but hates the brothers or sisters, he is a liar...Whoever loves God must also love the brothers and sisters." - I John 3:20, 21

You CANNOT say that you hate someone and Love God. It doesn't work that way, as we are charged to love one another as we love ourselves.

"These things I command you, that ye love one another." - John 15:17

See! What did I just say about loving one another?

"There is one Lawgiver, who is able to save and to destroy. Who are you to judge another?" - James 4:12

We are not to judge someone for their actions. We are to examine our own actions before even beginning to look at someone else's. Examine the log in your own eye before bitching about the speck in your brother's.

"Honour all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honour the king." - 1 Peter 2:17

Honouring someone is showing respect. We are to respect ALL men. Not those we like or those we know. We are to show respect and love to ALL. Oh and that last part? We are to show respect to those in authority. AKA: The president, the pastor, the teacher, etc.

"Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake: whether it be to the king, as supreme; Or unto governors, as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of evildoers, and for the praise of them that do well." - 1 Peter 2:13-14

We are to submit to the laws. We are to obey those in authority. You know what that means? Not going out of your way to curse a president or anyone else just because you don't agree with them. They are who God has allowed to be in authority and you are to SUBMIT.

I hate fighting with people, but I am tired of people being two-faced. If you are a Christian, you are to follow the WORD OF GOD. And last I checked, those were the words of God.

Oh also, here are a few words from the Qur'an. Don't they seem familiar?

"O mankind! Allah created you from a single (pair) of a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know each other (not that you despise each other). Verily the most honored of you in the sight of Allah is (he who is) the most righteous of you. And Allah has full knowledge and is well acquainted (with all things)." (The Nobel Qur'an 49:13)

“If thou dost stretch thy hand against me, to slay me, it is not for me to stretch my hand against thee to slay thee: for I do fear God, the cherisher of the worlds. (The Noble Qur'an, 5:28)"

"when the angels said, "O Mary, indeed Allah gives you good tidings of a word from Him, whose name will be the Messiah, Jesus, the son of Mary - distinguished in this world and the Hereafter and among those brought near" 'Āli `Imrān 3:45