Let Me Cry

I heart Jang Geun Suk. And for some reason I seem to have this song on repeat. I'm not sure if it is because I want to cry on his shoulder or just because. I'm going to say it is because he is sexy.

Let the Christmas Rants begin

I am so sick of people who try to force "Merry Christmas" down my throat.

I don't celebrate "Christmas," never really have. I have always believed that "Christmas" was a pagan holiday (partially because I do my research) dressed up as a "Christian" holy day to convert more pagans to Christianity during the early days of our history.

Newsflash, Jesus wasn't born on Christmas. In fact, we'll never know exactly when Jesus was born. Since Israel has roughly the same climate as the state of Indiana (in the USA), I'm going to say it definitely was NOT December, as no shepherd in his right mind is going to be out in the middle of winter with sheep that could freeze to death (or starve as there would be nothing for them to graze on) thus depriving him of his flock.

It offends me when people try to force me to say something I don't believe in. I'm not going to tell you Merry Christmas if I don't believe in it or feel like it. Please respect that wish. Also, think about what you are doing when you try to force your beliefs down other people's throats. Are you really being Christ-like?

I am all for people being Christians or Muslims or Jews or Hindus or Buddhists. But we need to learn that there is a difference between being an example and being a jerk. You can be a good *insert religious preference here* and not badger people about converting.

*End Rant*

Trying.

Marriage is hard. Relationships are hard. Love is hard. If you love someone you have to work at your relationship with them.

I once wrote a blog about Love. It's one of the few things I am very proud of, actually, because I wrote about what I see as a basic truth. You have to give all the parts of yourself to a relationship before you can truly have a relationship. So, what happens after you are in love?

That's when the work begins. Being in love is so much harder than most people realize. It's easy to play at love when you think there is no work to it. Its easy to use someone and play with their feelings. It takes real strength of character to make a relationship last.

I feel like this is what this video is about by P!nk. It's a good video. I don't like the song as much as some of her other's, but I adore this video because it is about working through the shit and working through the hard and the terrible and trying even when you feel like giving up.

Where there is a flame someone is bound to be burned.

Dream State

I had the coolest/weirdest dream last night. I dreamt that:

Bette Davis was Wonder Woman, except she had a better costume and a cooler weapon. Instead of the lasso of truth, she had an electrical whip. She was AMAZING.


Her outfit kind of looked like this except it had more gold, a darker red, no blue and it had sleeves. Plus she wore a golden headband in her blonde hair. She was SO pretty.


She had teamed up with Batman, who was played by Errol Flynn in this dream, to save these lovely young women from the Penguin. I can't remember who played the Penguin, but it was very interesting.


So Bette Davis/Wonder Woman is whipping at the bad guys with her electrical whip until one of them suddenly knocks her down and takes it. Then, while she and Batman/Errol Flynn are being whipped Spiderman shows up and shoots a compound web into the ocean (did I mention this was a Mountain Cave hideout overlooking the ocean? No? Well, that's where they were) and sets the lovely ladies on it like a zipline to safety. That is until they hit the water. Being stupid, apparently, they just keep riding the compound web down to the ocean floor, where they almost drown.

I'm super sad that there is no way this could be made into a movie, because Errol Flynn as Batman and Bette Davis as Wonder Woman is the BEST. THING. EVER!

It sucks not being able to record one's dreams!

The Guy next door

I found out yesterday that someone that I almost dated (ick, I hate saying that in retrospect), someone I went to church with, someone who stalked me, someone who used to be a friend, was arrested for possession of Child Pornography. Yes, a Christian man that I used to go to church with was arrested yesterday for viewing and downloading child porn to his flashdrive at the Public Library.

I can't even begin to explain how I feel right now. I feel disgusted and dumbfounded. I'm seriously gobsmacked (as Pomme would say) right now. I knew he was creepy and strange. I knew he had issues, which is why we didn't end up dating, but Child Porn?!

I am naive. I know this. However, it is things like being called a "damn towel-head" and finding out someone I used to consider a friend has been arrested for possession of something so heinous that causes me to shake my head in disbelief. I can't even imagine what would make someone do that! Especially at a PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Most disturbing part about this?

"D. told police that because he does not have Internet access at his home, he has been resorting to the library computers to manage the child porn collection and transfer the content to a flash drive so he may view it on his personal computer."

This wasn't a one time incident. He had a COLLECTION on his home computer! I'm so disgusted and disturbed by this that I can't even form cognitive sentences on the subject.

I went to school with this guy. I had a terrible crush on him when we were in High School. That is until he converted to Christianity. He was much more attractive when he was a Goth kid who said he would bite my tongue and make me like it. Which in retrospect is even more CREEPY. I was his friend for a long time. We went to church together on several occasions. He just got creepy after his conversion however. And then I find this out.

I can't explain what I feel right now. I'm still in shock. It hasn't fully sunk in.

The Girl in the Head Scarf

Up until now I have been keeping this to myself, but a few things recently have really made me think and when I think I have to write. So here it is.

I have recently converted to Islam. Or, at the very least, attempted to. I'm not very good at it, in my personal opinion. Of course, I've always been a little too independent for religion to begin with. I don't think I was a very good Christian either. So far, in my religious experiences I seem to have made a much better Atheist. Beside the point of course.

The biggest part of my conversion is my searching for something to believe in. I may be a Muslim forever, I may revert back to Atheism. I may decide to practice Judaism. Allah alone knows the answer to that. And I truly believe He knows the answer.

Does this seem very odd? I'm sure it does. With all the times I have ranted against God it seems silly to have this "eleventh hour" conversion. I'll admit that it seems odd to me as well, considering that I truly believe God and Allah are the same being. I refuse to attempt to explain it really. I have just decided this is the path I'm going to try and I'm going with it.

This also explains why I have been posting a few different things about racism recently. Because this is something I've been experience since I started wearing the hijab. Yes, I am wearing the hijab as part of my conversion. And something strange happened when I started doing that. I felt more comfortable as myself and everyone around me became more uncomfortable.

Former co-workers have threatened to run me over with their cars, men in Mexican restaurants say not so nice things about my "turban," and, most recently, random strangers drive past me shouting at me that I am a "damn towel-head." Former co-workers have embraced this newest me (as I am constantly evolving), offered to protect me, random strangers have invited me to come and speak with them at Mosque and there has been encouragement. In truth, it has been a bit of a polarizing experience.

I knew there would be resistance. This isn't the first time I have donned the hijab. Though the first time was in high school, in solidarity with a Muslim friend who was run out of town, and as a social experiment. And part of this is a social experiment. Life is a social experiment. Beside the point of course.

I knew that I would find out who my real friends were. Though it has been a bit painful. Some of the people I thought I cared about turned out to be the enemy. But I'm still here. And I am still wearing my hijab.

I've also come to the conclusion that Christians in the US (obviously if you are Christian and reside in another country this doesn't necessarily apply) have NO clue what they are talking about when they speak of "persecution." You've never been persecuted unless you've walked in someone else's shoes. Which is what I'm doing now. It is part of the refining fire, as the Bible says.

I'm scared, but I'm elated. I like pushing the boundaries, but I am afraid to go too far. Am I a freak? I suppose time alone will tell.

Lair of the Unicorn

So... Apparently North Korea has discovered a "unicorn lair" that may have once belonged to the King Tongmyong.

How did they discover this amazing find of the century? A very helpful rectangular rock with the words "unicorn lair" carved into its face. How helpful! Why didn't this get discovered sooner? I mean, unicorns should be important to anyone's country! We should all be looking for secret "unicorn lairs" for the good of our history and culture! I mean, having grown up a girl (against my will), I know just how important unicorns are to the world!

They are symbols of purity and virginity, which is why if you are a 'ho' you shouldn't go near one because they've been said to run you through with that horn of theirs. They are status symbols of wealth and prosperity. They are symbols of strength and magnificence.

All things that North Korea needs to prove that they are, in fact, the best country in the world.

I'm off to look for my own unicorn lair, feel free to read the following article discussing this amazing and transcendental find! Good on you, N. Korea.

http://news.sky.com/story/1019118/north-korea-researchers-find-unicorn-lair

The Lion and the Unicorn

Because I am silly and random and weird (all things EVERYONE should've known by now), I have decided to write my own Korean Drama. Yep, that's right, I'm going into K-Dramas! ^__^

So far I have figured out my main plot, who I want to play my main characters and the title. So far that is it. I need Korean names and I need to START the thing.

The title: The Lion and the Unicorn (because of the poem "The Lion and the Unicorn,"

"The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown
The lion beat the unicorn all around the town.
Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown;
Some gave them plum cake and drummed them out of town." Which has to do with the English Coat of Arms and can be found in Lewis Carroll's "Alice Through the Looking Glass.")

The Characters:

The Lion

Park Han Byul

The Unicorn

Park Shin Hye

The Jester

Lee Jun Ki

The Prince

Jang Geun Suk

The Witch

Jun Ji Hyun

The plot (so far) is as follows:

Two sisters (the Lion and the Unicorn) fall in love with the same guy (the Prince). The oldest sister (the Lion) is evil (or is she?) whilst the younger (the Unicorn) is weak and not the brightest bulb in the box (or is she?). In the meantime another guy (the Jester) is being blackmailed into being with another girl (the Witch), but is in love with the younger sister. It's a case of bad first impressions, sisterly love (and hate), true love and all in a modern day fairy tale setting.

That's all I have for now, however, I'll be sure to post as soon as I have a scene or two going! Stay tuned!

Being a Lover of Strings

Whilst dawdling on YouTube, I somehow managed to stumble upon this Violinist named Lindsey Stirling. She isn't just any violinist however, she is a "dubstep" violinist. And her music is AMAZING! So have a listen to my newest favorite song, even if it is violin instead of cello!

The Harlot's Blush

It is impossible to say how long they had been insane. The madness was a black pool in which they had, long, been drowning. It was toxic, yet it seemed to give them an almost ethereal loveliness. A tainted beauty enveloped their house and clung to them like so many flecks of ivory colored mud.

He had been a soldier. The blood stains of war could be seen beneath the slowly cracking facade. He lost himself somewhere in the torn jungles of a foreign land and between the legs of a beautiful, young, girl with soulless eyes. His infidelities, to both his wife and himself, often stirred the fires of madness to the point of a break. He would fling himself into a scalding tub of water and scream at God for just a moment of peace. When it had passed he would remind himself that God had died, with him, in those war torn jungles long ago.

She had been a victim of incestuous desires, forced to run from her home to escape an older brother. She had run as far as her twenty dollars and sixty-two cents could take her before she began hocking the only thing left to her. She married the first man that asked and lied, saying she was eighteen. She was his wife, a leash on the madness, already creeping in, until the war. Everything changed after that. While he was gone, she took a lover and began to drink. The scars building on her arms and torso were just to bleed, not to kill. There was no one there to care.

After another fifth of whatever alcohol she can find, she stumbles into his arms. He is shaking and whispering. He looks afraid, as if he were a wounded rabbit being hunted by something more sinister than a fox.

"God is dead. He died between that girl's legs in those forsaken jungles. What a waste. What a tragedy." He whispers into her tousled amber hair as he plants a small kiss on her pale earlobe. He is speaking nonsense, he always does after the nightmares begin. And they always begin this time of year.

~~~

The couple next door have finished moving in and are having a celebratory dinner. They invite their neighbors, though they feel uneasy around them. They can sense the wrongness beneath the calm, everyone can. At first the young wife pleads with her husband not to invite them. There is something there that makes her frightened. Proper etiquette and good manners win in the end.

The evening begins, quietly, with a few casual drinks and pleasantly neutral banter. It grows into a robust game of chess, unwitting pawns in the world of questions. It fades into a hulking paranoia, and resentment, as the guests are politely introduced to the door. Good nights and good byes are given and received as they part for the night.

~~~

The paranoia sits on his chest as he tosses and turns. He must have the beautiful young woman next door. She is perfect, so wonderfully fresh and new. He must have her. His wife doesn't matter, she doesn't even compare. The young woman next door is all that matters.

He watches her, day after day. He follows her as she walks home from the store. He memorizes her curves as he stalks her. He is waiting for the moment to take her, the moment where she will be his alone. He waits, patiently, for a year, writhing in the heat of his lust and the agony of his madness.

He takes her. Takes her just as he did a young girl in a foreign country years ago. He strings her up and rakes his hot hands over her body. He says he will take his time, enjoy her, but impatience is a cruel master. It drives the knife into her writhing body over and over. It is impotence and rage, tempered with insanity, that drives the knife. He can no longer satisfy his wife or himself. Not since that girl in the jungles where God died. He can no longer be a man.

~~~

She finds him in the shed in the fenced-in backyard. He is wallowing in blood and praying to his crucified Madonna. He is crying and has cut himself. She finds his severed manhood lying beside the young neighbor's wilting corpse. Gently, she lifts it from the dirt floor and places it in an empty firefly jar.

She goes to him then. She kneels beside him and takes his head into her lap, caressing his tangled hair. She pries the knife from his hand and twines her fingers with his. She bends over him to kiss his cheek, all the while murmuring words of comfort. She imagines a crown of thorns on his beautiful head as she slits his throat.

She ties him up beside the neighbor woman and begins to devolve into her own wickedness. Her eyes glitter with hatred and insanity, the madness a poisonous balm to her breaking heart. She hums an off-key melody as she lines up jars. They are mostly empty, but in her mind they are holding the parts of every man that harmed her.

She croons, softly, to his body as it, too, begins to wilt. She glances into his tear-bright eyes, still wide in shock at his sudden demise. She sings to him, as if he were a sleepy child. Brushing a stray wisp of hair from his face, she pats his cheek.

"A beautiful forest, a sea of green, nestled at the foot of the mountain. God stands within, laughing at the rotting demons strung amongst the autumn leaves. Their eyes cry out and ghosts weep, quietly. No mortal loves his life in that forest.

"You look so peaceful," she whispers, caressing his cooling face. His eyes seem to be screaming at her. "so calm and beautiful. You didn't have to take her when I would have given myself up to your knife. Was my blood not perfect for this exorcism? Was my heart not beating for you as the blade graced your throat?

"What a waste. What a tragedy. What a beautiful blush the harlot has upon her snow cheek. She fell in love with you, even as you wielded your blade against her. She parted softly with your name, a hallowed prayer, upon her bloody lips. She was a rose and you stole her petals, a goddess in flesh and you freed her from imprisonment.

"What now, my husband? What now, my love?"

She sees him stir at these last words. A strangled scream escapes her mouth as he sways toward her. His hands, once secured, now reach out to choke her, to deny her breath. She claws and gnashes her teeth, sinking into his cold flesh and tearing it. She hears him howling, like a werewolf, his screams beating against the drum of her skull. All her struggle is in vain.

~~~

They found her with her own hands wrapped around her throat. Red teeth marks and torn flesh lay in abundance. The two bodies, hung from the rafters, seemed to be in a lover's pose. A bloody heart was drawn on the wall behind them.

When she was revived all that could be discerned from her garbled speech was "heaven." They led her away from the scene in a white coat, given to her by the nice man also in white.

What they could not understand she knew all too well.

She had tasted heaven in her final scene.

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.

And now for something completely different...

I decided, at random, to look up the words "controversial cupcake." And this is what I found...




Would you eat it? I think it looks tasty!

Racism.

Racism is defined as a belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others.
It is also defined as hatred or intolerance of another race or other races.
I cannot comprehend that. I can't understand how someone can hate another person or another religion so much without understanding it or knowing the person. How can you look at someone in a hijab and automatically hate her? How can you look at the color of someone's skin and already hate him? You don't even KNOW them. You don't know who they are, you don't understand their beliefs, all you know is the outside appearances.
I don't understand how we can claim to be the 'land of the free' when we still have soldiers who can't marry the person they love because they are gay, we have people calling our president the n-word, we have people threatening to run over other people with cars because they wear the hijab and we have people afraid to practice their religious and personal beliefs. That isn't a free country.

Pro-Life and Pro-Birth don't mean the same thing

Today I was browsing my Facebook (which I do often, I admit) and came across this article as posted by my friend Kami. It's about a young woman who died because she was denied an abortion.

Take a second to read the article at the following link:

http://www.michaelnugent.com/2012/11/14/tragedy-shame-and-outrage-as-pregnant-savita-dies-in-irish-hospital-because-of-catholic-dogma-and-political-cowardice/

 Now, maybe you are like me and you are reading that article and saying to yourself "That's awful! Why would anyone let that happen?" Maybe you aren't. Maybe you believe that young woman deserved to die for trying to save her own life, knowing that there was absolutely no way to save that of her child.

 I hope you don't believe that way. I hope you don't believe that one life is so much more important than another that they should both be lost to be fair.

I think that the worst part is the fact that these men and women call themselves Doctors and their first vow is to do no harm. This woman was viciously harmed, in agony and dying because she was carrying a nonviable fetus that was in the process of miscarriage as was. It makes me sick, thinking about this poor woman.

It is baffling how backwards the priorities of the Church are. We can't save the child, so we won't save the woman because it would be "murder" of the nonviable fetus that is already in the process of miscarriage? How is that holy? How is that Godly? How is that in anyway "pro-life?" Doesn't that mean life for EVERYONE? 

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.

Another Four Years!

Up until this moment I had lost all belief in a supreme being who cared about me, but after Barack Obama won another four years I'm going to have to start praying again!!

Congrats on another four years President Obama, I couldn't be happier!

Electoral

As I write this Obama is behind on the Electoral votes by 30. At least according to the map I've been watching since 6pm. (You can find it at this website: http://elections.nytimes.com/2012/results/president)

I can't help but feel like my whole future is riding on this craziness. And I keep telling myself that Obama is going to win, but I know there is the chance he won't. And it's that chance that is making me sick to my stomach so that I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I know everyone always says "Oh, I'll leave the country if so and so wins." but in reality I don't have enough money to leave the country and no desire to at this point in time, but I genuinely don't want to live in an America run by a millionaire who is proud of the fact that he bullied someone into suicide and who tied his dog to the roof of his car for a trip and who doesn't pay the same taxes I do because he is a millionaire (who hides all of his money overseas so he doesn't have to pay anyway!). This is ridiculous. I have lost all my faith in the American people if we vote in Mr. Romney.

In the meantime, I guess I'll just keep playing Dragon Age: Origins and pretending like I'm not watching the map grow redder by the moment.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow the voices of millions of Americans will be raised in a single cause: VOTING.

Tomorrow, use your voice to elect those that will lead us for the next four years.

Choose wisely, research your candidates, vote early, USE YOUR VOICE.

I used mine.

Obama 2012.

Because What's Right isn't always Easy

 I kidnapped this from the Facebook page "Support Marriage Equality Across America" (http://www.facebook.com/GayMarriageAmerica) because it so closely echoes a lot my feelings and sentiments and because I am BiSexual and proud of it. Thank you to the person who researched all of this and took the time to write it down.

Also, for anyone who is interested, here is another website that can back up all of it's information about our president!
http://whatthefuckhasobamadonesofar.com/


This is a long read but well worth it for those that have asked...
What has he done for the LGBT community.

I'm publicly stating my support for Barack Obama.
I haven't gotten political as most pages have been but I will say why I support him and Joe Biden. The first thing is I have heard them speak in person. I have heard their support for the LGBT community at every talk they have had. I have also heard Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan. I have heard them on programs speaking against my human rights. I have heard their thoughts. I know you might not like or agree with my opinion and that's fine. Some people will say he only is doing this for the votes. Some people say he has done nothing for the community. I remember what I tell people. I always say I didn't choose to be gay. Who would choose to be treated poorly and hated against. Who would choose to go through so much because of being in support of the LGBT community? Well let me be honest. I'm tired of this community being told to move on the bus of Equal Rights. It's about time that we stood our ground for our seat. I don't see Mr. Obama asking us to move on that bus. I do see Mr. Romney asking us to move to the back of the bus. There has never been a president to say he supports LGBT rights.

So you want to know what has changed for LGBT people since he took office?

2009:
June 17th

Ordered federal government to extend key benefits to same-same partners of federal employees.

June 29th
Hosted first White House LGBT Pride Reception in history.

August 12th
Awarded the highest civilian honor, the medal of Freedom, to Billie Jean King and Harvey Milk.

October 21st
Created a National Resource Center for LGBT elders.

October 28th
Signed the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. hate crimes prevention act into law.

2010:
January 1st
Ended discrimination based on gender identity in the federal government.

January 4th
Lifted the ban that prohibited people with HIV/AIDS from entering the USA.

March 23rd
Enacted the Affordable Care Act

April 15th
Ensured hospital visitation and medical decision making rights for LGBT patients.

June 9th
Allowed Trans Americans to receive true gender passports without surgery.

June 22nd
Clarified the family medical leave act so that LGBT families were ensured leave from work.

June 22nd
Released Americas first comprehensive plan to prevent and end homelessness which included homeless LGBT youth.

October 1st
Awarded a grant to L.A. Gay and Lesbian community services center to work with LGBT foster youth.

October 21st
Made "It Gets Better Video"


December 21st
Led a United Nations measure that restored "Sexual Orientation" to the definition of human rights.

December 22nd
Signed the repeal of DADT "Don't ask don't tell"

2011
January 20th
Ensured government housing programs can no longer discriminate against the LGBT community.

February 14th
Proposed more funding for LGBT priorities such as HIV/AIDS prevention and education, and bullying and teen suicide prevention.

Declared the Defense of Marriage Act Unconstitutional and announced the administration would No Longer defend it's constitutionality in court.

March 10th
Hosted conference on Bullying Prevention at the White House.

March 31st
Completed an Institute of medicine study on LGBT health. The first of it's kind.

August 18th
Clarified the meaning of family to include LGBT relationships. Helping to protect bi-national families threatened with deportation.

August 20th
Supported lesbian widow Edith Winsor in her suit against DOMA.

September 2nd
Issued guidance to foster safer worker environments for transgender federal employees.

September20th
Implemented the Repeal of Don't ask don't tell.

This doesn't even include what he has done in 2012.
So do I want him in another 4 years. Yes. Why? Because he is changing things. So when you tell me he has done nothing for the community you might want to look it up.

Memere

Oh Memere,
I'm such a failure. I can't seem to do anything right. I feel like you wouldn't like me at all. Or maybe you would think I was wonderful. I don't know. I just know that I only miss you when I'm breathing. I think about you all the time. I should have moved on by now, right? You've been gone for so long I can't remember what you sound like. All I have left are videos and pictures. Videos that I can't watch because I don't have a VCR.

I feel like I've done absolutely nothing that I should've by now. I just wish you were here. I wish Pepere was here. I wish I knew where Dad was. I wish, I wish, I wish.

I am so selfish, Memere. Because I think you should've lived. You should've been there for my wedding, you should've been there when I got my GED. You should've been there when I was in my car wreck. You should be here now. It's unfair.

I think the worst thing is that I don't remember that much about you. All that I "remember" is from videos, a few phone calls and a letter you wrote Mom. I don't remember what you smelled like, or your voice. I feel as though I have no independent memories. And I don't know if that is because I never had independent memories of you or because of my car accident. So much has been lost over the years. So many memories that we'll never have together.

Auntie says you and Pepere are only a heartbeat away. How is it that you are so close and yet so very far away?

I used to talk to you, after you died. Not literally, but just talking to the air and pretending you were there. I wish you were, so I could tell you about all the things I've learned or about my wedding. Tell you about my job and our new apartment. Plan a trip to see you for Christmas. I wish we could do all those things. And we can't.

Would you have asked me what you asked mom? "Do you feel so very young, dear?" I would say no, because this constant missing you has aged me. I've aged a million years in the time you've been gone. You've been gone far too long.

Would you love me now, Memere? Would you be proud of what I've accomplished? I'm afraid you wouldn't. And in the meantime I'm still missing you like my entire world has ended.

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.

Gotye Kick...

I am SO in love with Gotye! And I have been a massive kick recently, just listening to his awesomeness over and over. I just discovered this one and I love the video and the song itself. Such awesome stuff!

Dear Mr. President

August 01st, 2012

Dear Mr. President,

It's a funny (as in weird) time right now, don't you think? All this insanity with your upcoming election (I am confident in your abilities as you can see) and the world is all a stage (as Shakespeare once said) set with chessmen. In the end it's kind of like that, a political checkmate with more than a chessboard at stake. Of course chess players don't usually play for keeps.

Mr. President, I am going to be honest, I'm not sure why I am writing you. My previous letter (before I was married I sent you a glittery Paris themed card) had a point. I wanted to tell you how much I supported you. I still support you (and not just because you were the first president I got to vote for). But this wasn't really going to be about that.

We're moving, not just as a country. Moving towards something ill-defined and frightening. I'm afraid, sir. Afraid that we're moving not for the better. We (the collective "we") have grown so lazy, prejudiced, paranoid and irrational. I feel like I'm trapped in the collective body of a rabid dog. I resist, but get pulled in again. It seems insane because it is.

Frankly, Mr. President, I could care less about your religious beliefs. The constitution (last I checked) said nothing about religion. I care that you have morals; compassion, honesty, etc. I don't care if you were born overseas or not (not that I believe you were, but I hear this ALL the time at work) because you were born to American citizens so it wouldn't matter anyway.

What I care about is you visiting the Colorado victims. I care about you paying the same amount of taxes I do. I care about you donating your Nobel Peace prize money. I care about you fighting for equal pay for equal work.

I care about you standing up for GLBTQ rights. I care about those things, Mr. President. I don't care if you worship Buddha or Krishna or Zeus for that matter. I do care if you use your power for good rather than "evil." Be Luke not Vader (well at the beginning Vader, you can be Vader overthrowing the Emperor. Huh, the Emperor could be Romney or big business and you could be Vader throwing them over the railing... Somehow I don't think I'll be getting a job creating your ads any time soon).

I'm sorry I ramble so, Mr. President.

I'm sorry I don't have more money. I want to donate. I want to have a chance to have dinner with you. I want to be more than one voice, but it's very hard being an adult, don't you agree?

I want so many things! I want my freedom. I want my health. I want my liberty and to pursue my happiness. I want to be a part of this so-called "Great Nation."

In truth, I just want to be happy. I want more than what I've been told I should want.

I hope I haven't bored you to tears, sir. I hope you and yours are doing well. I hope you continue the good fight, even if letters from supporters stop coming. Even if it looks bleak. There are people, like me, who can't afford Mr. Romney, sir. Especially those who think he is a good option.

Please beat him. Please continue to be the kind and wonderful human being you are. And please say a prayer (if you believe in that, I don't really anymore) for me.

In all sincerity and with great respect,
Sarai Smith
(formerly, Sarai Lillie)

A ramble with Fawn

Me: I am standing next to a Jillian Michaels display and all I keep thinking about is her face buried in pussy. Is that weird?

Fawn: Well she is a lesbian for one and two she's ugly. Though I wouldn't mind having her body from the neck down. Just not her ugly mug.

Me: I kind of like her face.

Fawn: I think she is ugly.

Me: Too each their own? She does have pretty eyes and lips. And I want her boobs.

Fawn: From the neck down everything is fine.

Me: Yeah. I'd fuck her.

A few moments later

Me: My hands smell like scrotum. I haven't even played with balls today! O.o

Fawn: Yeah because everyone should handle someone elses balls at least once a day, twice if it's with a stranger on a train, plane or in a taxi.

Me: Exactly!

A few more moments later

Me: So I'm thinking of opening a haberdashery.

Fawn: You say that as I'm sitting here drawing some dress designs.

Me: Nice! See, it's meant to be. Plus, ___________ has a severe lack of good old fashioned haberdasheries anyway.

Fawn: Hahaha you sell buttons and zippers and fabric and thread and I'll sell shoes, handbags, jewelry and clothing.

Me: And hats too!

Fawn: Yeah! I'm actually seriously thinking about fashion design.

Me: Okay! Let's do it!! :)

Fawn: Haha you say this and you don't even know if you like my designs.

Me: Well I figure I'll have some designs too. :D We'll offset each other.

A few more moments later

Me: I've had 8 Jillian Michaels starring at me all day and it is starting to creep me out. Also, sexual subliminal messaging. "Eat this product and this blonde girl will suck your dick." I'm taking a picture when I get off work.

And here are the pictures!

Does she seem a little overly excited about that protein bar or is it just me?



Too many!! It gets disconcerting after four or five hours...

It could happen to you.

Many of you, I'm sure, are wondering why I keep "harping" on the topic of Equal rights for Homosexuals, Bisexuals, Transgenders and Heterosexuals. The reason for this is because it is very close to my heart. Not just because I'm bisexual.

I come from a family where Homosexuality is actually a statistic. 1 in 3 children on my mother's side of the family is homosexual. I've grown up surrounded by people who were homosexual and you know they are the most loving and wonderful people I've ever met!

Dick
I had a homosexual great-uncle on my Grandpa's side (my mother's father), who sadly passed away before I got the chance to really know him. He worked in radio, he had been in the army. He loved Audrey Hepburn. And he had a wonderful partner. I have pictures of them and myself when I was a baby.

Becky
I had a great-aunt who was a lesbian on my Grandmother's side (my mom's mom), who also passed away, very recently. She was in the air force when she was young. She was a wild child who loved her family very much. She was a funny dancer and had a great sense of humor. I have pictures of her and Hannah (when Hannah was two or so) dancing at a cousin's wedding.

Janice
I have another great-aunt who is a lesbian (on my Grandmother's side). She has been with her partner for longer than I have been alive. They have always been there for one another and, though they are conservative in their public displays of affection, anyone who has been around them for very long can tell that they love each other. That they have always loved each other. I have pictures of us playing together, along with me crawling into their dog, Posha's house.

Kevin
And lastly, I have another great-uncle (also on my Grandmother's side). He is funny and wears some inappropriate "Gumby" t-shirts. He took care of Becky, his sister, right up until the end. He and the rest of my family have always worked together, no matter the disagreements, no matter the disputes. Because we are a family!

We are not any less just because we happen to love someone of the same sex. We do not deserve to fight and die for a country that refuses to give us the same rights! We deserve to get married and have spousal rights and be in love with who we want to be in love with.

Which brings me to why I am talking about this today.

I was on Facebook and one of my girlfriends posted the following link and I clicked on it.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/452010736/bridegroom-an-american-love-story

And what I found made me want to cry and made me feel sick and made me angry. It also made me think and it made me wonder.

I have been surrounded by homosexuality my whole life. I have family that I love dearly (even though we don't get to see each other as much as we would like) who are homosexual or bisexual. I have so many friends that I couldn't possibly live without who are homosexual or bisexual. What happens if they are in a committed relationship and something happens? What happens to them because they have no legal rights? What happens?

This is the full video as posted by Shane about the love of his life, Tom Bridegroom. And this is what happens if you have no legal rights regarding the person you love.




This is a very powerful story, and very sad. You may disagree with what someone chooses to do with their life, but it is THEIR life, not yours. And they deserve the same rights and freedoms you have.

So I am asking you, please, if you have ever loved someone who was Homosexual, Bisexual, Transgendered OR even Heterosexual (because this is a story that affects us all) watch (and re-watch) those videos and then make the decision of whether you are willing to help out.
 
For those of you who are wondering, yes, I did pledge some money as a backer. I wouldn't ask anyone to pledge money to a cause I, myself, had not pledged something to. I didn't pledge much, because I am poor, but what I gave was from the heart and that is all that matters in the end.
 
I want to see this film in the fall, and if we raise enough awareness that can be a reality.

I want to see my family and friends happily married even though they love someone of the same gender. Even though they love someone of a different color. Even though they love someone of a different religion. Love is love.

Equal Love, Equal Rights.

The Golden Man.

Dear ____,

I keep telling myself that I will stop missing you, stop writing you. I tell myself that I never really loved you and you never really loved me. It doesn't make anything hurt less, it doesn't change how I feel. No matter what I do, I keep thinking about you. I miss you. I wish things had been different.

I was seventeen. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship. I had finally broken up with the Edward in my life. My home life was deteriorating. I was losing faith in God, in religion, in love. I was wilting, like a forgotten flower in a too sunny window.

And you came in to my picture. You came into the darkness and pulled me out. Or so I thought.

I had a crush on you. You were so smart, strong and funny. You were sweet and wonderful, it was easy to fall for you. I didn't even have to try. But you had a wife and I valued our friendship too much to say anything. Not that you couldn't see it written all over my face. I can say I never tried to take you from her. I am still her friend, though I still feel the shame bubbling up in my cheeks sometimes when I talk to her.

I worshiped you. I adored you. I loved you. I wrote so many poems in your honour, though I have often said I would not waste another verse on you. I say I will not waste another tear in your name.

I keep thinking back to when I told you that I had a crush on you. You said you had already known. I blushed because I couldn't believe I had been so obvious.

I told you that I wanted to have sex. You said you would ruin me for other men. I told you I wanted to be ruined. Sometimes when I think about that I know you ruined me anyway.

I can still feel your fingers tracing the soft part of my neck up to my ear and back down as I was trying to write that mythology I was creating. I had dedicated a character to you. The most beloved man created by the Gods and Goddesses of my world. I called you Zimri. How fitting that, in the Bible, Zimri is a traitor and the name itself means "my song" (Or mountain sheep, but that fits less perfectly.)

I remember how strongly I wanted to kiss you. I remember making you blush, twice, and marveling at my ability. I remember how badly I wanted you, while feeling the guilt creeping around the edges. Your wife. Your son and your daughter. Your life that I was so desperately wanting to be a part of.

I was seventeen, though, ____! You should've resisted me, should've told me no. Told me that it was inappropriate. Why didn't you? Was I Lolita, seducing you away from God and family?

I blame myself for inviting you to the prom. I blame myself for asking you to go with me. I wish I'd never gone. I wish I'd never said anything. But I wanted that experience. I wanted to experience prom, to experience a dance. It was my first dance and I was so excited to be dancing with you. I remember all the moves we created for "Beep" by the Pussycat Dolls. Sometimes, when I'm reminiscing, I play it. I dance and I think about you.

Sometimes I look at the pictures from that night. The night we stopped being friends. The night we became something more than friends, but less than lovers.

I abandoned you when you said you were leaving her. When you said you no longer believed in God. I was afraid, more than anything. And I was angry. I don't even know why I was so angry. I know I felt ashamed and betrayed for everything that happened between us. But that wasn't the reason I stopped talking to you. You had left me, now you were abandoning God and family. The whole time that I knew it could never be, even when I was hoping it would be, I prayed you would stay married. I prayed you would stay with your wife. I prayed I would forget you.

My prayers were for nothing. I still lost you.

The wound still aches every now and then. It still throbs. I still dream about you. I still miss you. I still love you. The truth of the matter is that I always will.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I had to remove you from my life. I wish I hadn't, now. But where would we be? You wouldn't have come back to me. You wouldn't have fulfilled my dream. You couldn't. We couldn't

Some days, I admit, I still want you. I am comfortable admitting that. I wouldn't do anything now, because I am happily married, but I still wonder.

I think my problem is that I wonder if you still think about me. I just want to know that you miss me too. And I don't know why I want to know that. Do you ever think about me? Do you ever miss me? Do you ever want me still? I wish you would message me. Just once, let me know that you still love me like you said you always would. Even though we still can't be. Even though I shouldn't let you back in.

Darling, I miss you, but this is another in a series of confessions I've written on my way to letting you go. I won't e-mail you. I won't message you on Facebook. I won't try, though I want to sometimes. I will eventually come to terms with this.

In the meantime, I hope you are doing well. I hope you are happy and healthy. I hope all sorts of beautiful hopes for you.

Love,
Sarai

A Rocky Road to Hoe.

I have a sincere question:

What the fuck does it matter if President Obama is Muslim, Christian, black or white? Do those things define him as a human being? NO!

You know what defines him as a human being?

His being. His living and breathing. Him being the man that governs us.

He may not do everything right. He may not be the most amazing president ever. Every HUMAN makes mistakes.

He should still be respected. He should still be treated like any other human being.

Besides that, tell me where in the Constitution it says he has to be a Christian? Tell me where it bars people of other faiths from being President. Didn't we come to this land for religious freedom? So religious freedom is for everyone who believes what is acceptable? For only those who believe in Christianity? Fuck that!


I'm done. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of hearing all this bullshit. I'm done.

The Velvet Goldmine

When I was younger I used to babysit my cousins all the time. I didn't mind this because I could watch what I wanted on TV after they went to sleep and I had an available assortment of snacks and what not at my Aunt's. It is on one such evening of babysitting that I discovered a movie called "Velvet Goldmine."

I didn't actually watch the whole thing at the time. Just bits and pieces of it. I couldn't get into it and, admittedly, the only reason I watched it was for promised sex scenes. I was approximately sixteen so I hadn't really figured sex out just yet. I was, however, overtly curious.







The other day I was thinking about it, out of nowhere mind you, and I decided to procure a copy of it. And the other night I watched the whole thing. THE WHOLE THING.

Worst decision ever, mind you. I stayed up until after 1AM watching a movie that I really had a hard time getting into. And it wasn't that good of a movie. Personally speaking of course.

There are a few things I have figured out from this film:
1. Lady Gaga is just a copy of Brian Slade/Maxwell Demon
2. Jeffree Starr is a poor imitation of Jack Fairy.
3. Jonathan Rhys Meyers looks like Fawn when he has longer reddish hair...

The story revolves around Brian Slade, a bisexual glam-rocker in the 70's loosely based on David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust; Arthur Stuart, a British journalist, closeted homosexual and glam-rock fan; and Curt Wild, a garage band singer on the edge. Also starring: copious amounts of Homosexual and Heterosexual sex and Ewan McGregor's penis.

Of course there are a few other intriguing characters such as Mandy Slade (played by Toni Collette) and Jerry Divine (played by my favorite comedian Eddie Izzard!). But they aren't nearly as interesting as the main characters.

Overall, I didn't like the film. I didn't like how they filmed it, though it renewed my appreciation of nude Ewan McGregor and Jonathan Rhys Meyers as a whole... But that was it.

If you read the synopsis of the film it actually sounds really interesting and very psychedelic. Which it is very psychedelic. But not really in a good way.

The lines purloined from Oscar Wilde are thrown in haphazardly, dialogue is practically non-existent. The music isn't very good. The whole thing felt like it was trying really hard to be deep and intense. It came off as being faker than fake.

On a scale of 10, I would rate this a 2. Ewan's penis is about the only thing that made this for me. That and Jonathan Rhys Meyers.

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.

Frustrated.

There are so many things I've been wanting to say and I keep holding it in, because I'm so afraid to piss people off. I know, right? Sarai, afraid to piss someone off? You'd never know it from this blog, would you?

There is so much I hold back, however. Things I type and read over, before I delete it all. I've been doing this my whole life, censoring myself. Censoring myself because of fear, because of my longing to be accepted for who I am. But I'm not giving myself, I'm giving a version of me. A version that I don't like very much.

I don't like this coward, the one who demurely let's people run over her.
I don't like this girl that I feel I've become. I'm a lot more confrontational than I used to be, but even now I back off from a fight.

I am a Libra. I am supposed to bring balance. I am supposed to be able to see the two sides of every story. And I do see both sides. But I can't make others see what it is I am seeing. No matter what I may do. I feel unbalanced, like a scale tipping too far over.

I am a Dragon by birth. I shouldn't be afraid of anything. I should be self-confident and arrogant. This dragon has been beaten to the point of submission and I've been tamed, shamed, into being this person that I am.

It makes my stomach hurt, just thinking about it. It makes me want to throw up when I think of causing a confrontation. But it also makes me sick to censor myself any longer.

I can't even be myself in my own home. Not because of Donnie, he would let me say and do what I want really.

Haven't I hidden myself long enough?

I live in so much fear. The fear that I'll say too much, or not enough. That I am failing everyone around me. Feelings I can't explain or name. This bitterness that wells up and threatens to choke me sometimes.

And that bitterness is what I try to keep to myself outside of this blog. Outside of my bedroom, I am attempting to be happy and go-lucky. Holly Go-lightly in the Modern Age.

I am bitter.
I am imperfect.
I am what I am!

In this spirit, I suppose I should get on with the topics I was going to discuss. Including, but not limited to the following article...



http://www.theblaze.com/stories/he-got-what-he-deserved-texas-dad-beats-his-daughters-molester-to-death/

You don't even have to read the article to know what it's about, really. Since the link states the article's subject. However, I went ahead and read it. Especially since someone on my Facebook posted it. She seemed to believe that this was a perfectly okay thing to do, as did most of her friends. I disagree.

Firstly, when you read the article, you see that the father left his four-year-old daughter alone. In a horse barn. Completely unaware that anything could be happening until he heard her screaming.

Re-read that paragraph. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Who, in their right mind, leaves their four-year-old child ALONE in a public place? That is not to say that the father deserved to see his daughter being assaulted. No one deserves to be assaulted and no one should have to walk in on that. However, what the fuck was he THINKING?! Or not thinking as the case apparently is.

Also, I hate that everyone is hailing him as a hero. He isn't a hero. He is a murderer. Did the man deserve to die for trying to rape a four-year-old child? Yes. But that is up to the courts to decide, not a man who took justice into his own hands. I can understand that he was probably blinded by his rage, anyone sensible person should be. That still doesn't give him the right to murder. We have laws in this country for a reason.

He is going to go to jail. He murdered someone. He is going to go to jail. If he is lucky, it won't be a long sentence. If he is unlucky, he'll be put to death. First degree murder is punishable with death in Texas. Anyone who is even VAGUELY familiar with Texas knows how giddy they are when they have the opportunity to put someone to death, guilty or innocent.

The other thing that I am really upset about is all this crap about Socialism.

Newsflash:
Social Security is a product of Socialism, but we are so set on NOT losing that.
Public Schools are a product of Socialism. Heaven forbid we had to pay for private school or *gasp* homeschool!

Personally speaking, I firmly believe in this:
"The Socialist Party U.S.A. That party believes in what is called “Democratic Socialism," defined as 'a political and economic system with freedom and equality for all, so that people may develop to their fullest potential in harmony with others.' The party further states that it is 'committed to full freedom of speech, assembly, press, and religion, and to a multi-party system' and that the ownership and control of the production and distribution of goods 'should be democratically controlled public agencies, cooperatives, or other collective groups'.(http://www.u-s-history.com/pages/h1669.html)"

I don't see anything wrong with National Healthcare. It is the same as Social Security. We'd get a little more taken out of our paychecks each week to go towards healthcare. Big fucking deal! Other countries have been doing this for YEARS. This horrific practice of "socialist medicine" has worked brilliantly for several other countries. So much so that many Americans immigrate to those countries so they can afford to stay healthy. Namely, Canada.

I don't understand this belief that Obamacare is wrong because it is socialist. Many people who couldn't afford healthcare can have it now! I think that's a good thing, being one of several MILLION people who can't afford medicine that we need desperately.

I don't understand all this hatred for Obama either.

He has helped produce new jobs, he has tried to help straighten out this whole "men are still paid more than a woman in the same position," he has come out for Homosexual marriage, etc. He has done SO MANY GOOD THINGS, I don't understand how people can bitch about him so.

But maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm wrong. I always am, apparently.

Oh well, enough ranting. I'm going to go read a nice book and maybe go for a drink. I have errands to run anyway.

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

Another Moment

I was eleven in 1999. My brother was nine and my sister was almost four.

I don't think it was the first year that my mother let us stay up for New Year's Eve, but it was one of the first years she let us.

Y2K was everywhere. It was the new Communist scare; the newest trend in fear. We were going to be set back from the technological age.

For me it was exciting. I have always dreamed that we would be forced back in time. It is an idea that I've tried to write about too. I love history so much that it made me think that we would start dressing like we did in the 1800's again, start speaking properly and acting like we were civilized. Much to my chagrin, that isn't what would've actually happened if technology had been decimated.

On this particular New Year's Eve, on the brink of a new millenia, my brother and I were staying up for midnight. Hannah had already been put to bed, mostly against her will as she had wanted to be a big girl and stay up too. She fell asleep shortly before ten and I carried her to our shared bedroom. Chris and I hadn't fully decided what we wanted to do.

If I recall correctly, we played some records before we decided to watch a movie.

Of course our first choice was "Much Ado About Nothing."




My mother has always been very eclectic in her tastes (which is where I got it!) and her love of classical things is what influenced me in my love for the same. Shakespeare was one of my first loves. Elvis came first, though.

Anywho, this was one of our favorite films. It still is. So we watched that. That killed some time, but not enough for midnight.

It was around this time that Ivan, a dear family friend, called to wish us Happy New Year. I told him that Mom had gone to bed with a migraine and that Chris and I were watching Shakespeare movies until midnight. He offered to come over and watch movies with us. And bring pizza.

When he arrived we decided to watch "Henry V."




Which, in case you didn't know, is a war movie. It is one of the only war movies I enjoy, because it is Shakespeare in all his glory. And Kenneth Branagh. That helps too... Because it is a war movie, that automatically means that it is bloody. As in VERY bloody. Nothing like blood and pizza on the brink of what was supposed to be the Technological Apocalypse, right?

Anyway, Ivan kept covering his. He isn't fond of blood and gore. Neither am I, usually, but for this particular movie I make an exception. Did I mention Kenneth Branagh is in it? I did? Oh, well it bears repeating... Hmm.... *drools* I mean, what? Where was I? Oh right, the movie.

So, Chris and I, being terrible children, kept teasing Ivan and telling him that the blood was gone. Of course he would peep out from between his fingers and see there was still plenty of blood on the screen and cover them back up. And we would giggle like it was the funniest thing ever. Which, at the time, it was.

I don't know why, but I've been thinking about this particular memory a lot lately. Nostalgia in my old age? Who knows.

I miss those times. I miss believing that everything was going to be fine. I miss believing that we were all going to make it somehow. I miss being closer to my sister. I miss having a family.

I still have a family, but it feels different. It has changed so much from the family it used to be. We are still Debra, Sarai, Chris and Hannah. But we are different. We are much changed from the people we used to be. Sometimes I don't think we are changed for the better.

Sometimes I miss living in that little blue trailer, in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by fields full of alfalfa and woods that held such beautiful mysteries. I miss riding my bike up and down that gravel road. I miss our dogs. I miss my knitting lessons and sneaking peeks of naughty movies while babysitting. I miss sharing a room with my baby sister, with an old and tattered poster of a Degas ballerina. I miss listening to Simon and Garfunkel on the record player. I even miss listening to old sermon tapes.

I miss the deer heads and the mounted fish. I miss fishing and playing in the snow.

I miss making homemade pizza with my mom. I miss playing chess with my brother. I miss reading to my mom.

What I miss most is what you can see in these pictures...










I miss what we used to be, when we were happy. Not when we were fighting, not when we were being abused, not when we were miserable. I miss those sparkling moments that linger in my memory where we were happy and we were a family.