Free Love: Don't be frigid with your words

My friend today told us all on Facebook that she has made some friends during her time with the SCA, Society for Creative Anachronism, a place where they recreate the arts and skills of 17th Century Europe. Yes that exists, and yes they are not usually sober when they hang out in costumes jousting and shit. Some of her friends she met along the way in the SCA have become more like extended family to her, and she posted to her Facebook friends that she may tell you that she loves you, and she's not doing it to be awkward, and she hopes you don't take it wrong.

I'm not usually a feeling person, like the notion of expressing how I feel about you outside of "you piss me the fuck off eat shit and die," doesn't really come naturally to me. If I really like you, what's probably going to happen is I just talk on and on around you because you broke the wall surrounding my comfort zone. To me, that should be a compliment, like that's a big deal tearing down protective walls people build around their oh-so-precious feelings. Most people, however, don't see it as a compliment. Instead, they are more annoyed that I won't shut up.

But throughout the recent years, I've become more of a softy where I am not afraid to tell random people that I love them. I think it all started when I was on the phone with my mechanic, and I said, "Bye. I love you." By accident. I was just so much in the habit of saying it to my mom and husband on the phone, the only two people I usually talk to, that it slipped. I didn't realize the oops until long after I hung up. He thought it was just hilarious, so we started confessing our undying love for each other every time we talked. People might of thought he was my husband because we were so comfortable saying, "I'll be back tomorrow, Love ya." ... "alright, love ya too sweetie."

One day I was talking to him on the phone and said I love you, and the husband raised an eyebrow. I was like, "It's just Matt."

This might be a good time to mention that Matt was also married, a little older than me, and missing some teeth. It wasn't romantic what so ever. We flirted a little out of fun, but it really was platonic at the heart of it. I'm saying this for those of you who are thinking I professed my love to a guy I fantasize about stripping with my teeth. No it wasn't like going up to your old high school crush and saying, "I love you, just so you know."

I should also mention that Matt just recently passed away. He will forever be in my heart and maybe some day, I'll see him again in heaven, with Crest Commercial perfect teeth despite all the dipping and smoking.

My friend's post today got me thinking though... I don't know if it's an American thing because I do imagine Europeans to be much different, but it might be a people thing, but we are afraid to tell people we love them. We are more cautious about using those words with someone than we are about wrapping our legs around them, nekkid, inserting things. The words, "I love you" to us seem to be more sacred than our virginity, and we reserve that for only people we consider family, whether it's your mother or some guy who has been hanging around your sofa for the last year. I think the reason we wait for a person to feel like family to tell them how we feel is because we are scared otherwise. We wait until they tear down the walls surrounding our comfort zone to get into things like expressing feelings.

Instead, what we do is find other ways to show affection. Ways that don't entail professing secret feelings. Little things like buying someone's coffee, or actually listening to what they say (you should be doing that to everyone you speak to, just sayin). Things that if someone said, "you are doing this because you love me," you can hide behind some other excuse. The point is, we do little things in code hoping the other person never finds out your real intentions behind doing something nice or goofy. We do this to protect ourselves from "rejection."

Is it so wrong to let someone know you care?

I mean we all wish people cared about us more. We all wish more people cared about us. The main motivation for humans, of all cultures, of all time, is love. We all desire love more than any riches, more than any self actualization or transcendence (which love is part of those things), more than anything we can imagine. Most religious people expect LOVE from their God for a reason. In reality, God is Love. We all seek that, in some way or form from each other, from our pets, from our children, from our stuffed animals as children.... Love is so valued that we are all eager to take it, but cautious about giving it. Even our wealthiest would rather donate money before showing love.

How many of you hide your pain? If I asked you, "How are you?" How many of you would respond with, "Fine," regardless of how you feel? With that said, how many of you would have a much better day just to hear someone say, "I love you." And for them to mean it.

Maybe if we told each other we loved each other more often than we fuck each other, maybe some of the world's problems might go away magically. Seriously, our biggest problem of all in society, our economy, our government... our biggest problem is our attitude. An attitude that might get adjusted when it knows it's loved.

I'm asking you to put aside your fears of rejection and just tell people how you feel about them, not for your sake, but for their's. Even if they push you away, you know deep down inside they needed to hear it.

P.S. I'm not going to my high school crush and telling him I love him by the way. Do I look like Adele? I'll buy him a drink though.

Happy Easter and Love from the Beatles Soundtrack

I don't think I can beat last Easter's Post with a balance of religion and humor. So if you are debating on reading one of the two, so far I vote you read last year's Easter Post. Are you still reading? Oh, you opted to read both. Good for you. Or even better, you already read last year's post because you have been with me that long. No you aren't old yet; I have yet to grow up. I know, most of you are more actually like, "Eff-ornicate you I'm not reading that other post with this one, you are lucky I'm reading this one... make me read two posts bitch be trippin." Well I'm going to bring it up again. Just sayin.

Okay, so Sunday Confession's writing prompt is LET.

Well that reminds another random person and I of the song Let it Be. So maybe we should listen to that song while we read. Mmmkay?

This is not really a political blog post, but to introduce my concept... I posted a Facebook status about how it completely dumbfounds me the way Murica is right now. If you aren't from 'Murica, if you happen to dwell on the outskirts of earth since 'Murica is earth, or you've been too busy watching reality tv you didn't notice, let me explain our political and religious ideals in a nut shell. We have Republicans and Democrats. The Republicans are generally Christians who go against everything Christ ever taught. The Democrats are generally anti-Christian yet they stand for quite a bit of what Christ stood for. Which concludes, yes all you outsiders, we are exactly what you've suspected all along. Petty. We lack substance. We have no idea what we are doing. We are hypocrites. It's probably the water, the pills, and the ketchup.

This country gives our people the freedom to think for themselves, and this is what they do with it? It's a downright dirty shame. True patriots who bled for that freedom are tossing and turning in their graves. We are the children they fought for. We are the children they expected to think and learn with our freedoms of thoughts and speech and liberties like free education. We are supposed to be the evolution, not the revolution.

Why not listen to the words of not-so-holy Paul McCartney's Mother Mary? Let it be.

All you Christians freaking out about feeding the hungry and healing the sick. That is the way of Christ. They agree with you. Let it be.

All you Atheists freaking out about Christians who are shoving their religion down your throat. Love and humanity is the way of Christ. They agree with you. Let it be.

Now let's flip the soundtrack a bit with these fresh funky beats for the rest of this...

Easter is supposed to be a time of renewal and resurrection. Last year I posted about this, did you not read it yet? If not, take a second to find out about how T'is the season to eff word. I say this year, we all try to up the game and resurrect ourselves out of the icy shells winter brought us, out of the pettiness Christmas made us, out of the hibernation the cold kept us in, and be inspired by this season when the bunnies frolic, when the love birds build a nest together, when Jesus resurrected from a brutal harsh death, and we should strive to become the shining, warm light in this world that makes the flowers bloom and the grass green. In other words, stop being assholes.

It's the time of year to be fuck-happy, not Scrooges. We should be opening ourselves up to the love others have to give, and giving love in return. Let people worship Jesus or Allah or whoever the fuck they want to worship. It's all good. Feed some hungry people. Take care of some sick people. Forgive. Let go of the past. Embrace the future. Be positive.

And most important, let other people live. Don't get up on their game like you the referee. You don't know their shoes. I promise you, nobody is as stupid as you think they are, despite their opinion. Instead of trying to change their mind, change your attitude. It's not about winning the debate, it's about getting along. It's not about your ego, it's about your aether.

Speaking of which, I also promise you that you are right. You are the victim to some sort of circumstance that sucks. How do I know you, in particular you, are the victim? Because everyone is the victim. Any YOU can read this and I'll be right because we all are victims to suckage. That doesn't mean your sob story has to beat the next guy's sob story. Sob stories are like time. It's relative. It's sadness depends on where you are standing. I'm just saying. Remember that. Because someone complaining of a broken nail might seem like a pansy, but sometimes they are just as broken as you who endured so much more.

This is a problem in this world. People stopped caring about other people's pain. People stopped listening to each other's sob stories in an effort to eliminate their own pain. Instead of getting all holier than thou I don't need you in my life, why not just, I don't know, offer some sort of inspiration or motivation or encouragement or something. Do that instead of overacting. Please. Overacting is the very reason people don't give a shit about sob stories anymore. And being stuck on your own story invalidating everyone else's also kills credibility and fucks people could give. Always remember, you are not the only person on this earth who bleeds. In war, it's a bleeding soldier who cares for your wounds.

I would say the theme of this message is, this world is more than about you. When you debate politics, when you discuss family goals, when you are standing in line at the check out counter staring at unruly children, remember IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU. And it doesn't have to be. The more you make your life about you, the lonelier your death is going to be. We all need to stop staring at the world like it's a gold we have to obtain, or a mountain we have to conquer. It's a place where spirits dwell; where love is the ultimate prize.

I wrote a poem. Sort of.

The Message of the Playlist: Decoding the secret messages the Beatles have been trying to tell us

Yesterday,
A Day in the Life across the Universe,
The Long and winding road,
I saw her standing there.
Oh Darling, I want to hold your hand--
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Love me do.

Hey Jude! Drive my car. Don't let me down.
Come together.
Norwegian wood, a hard day's night in my Life.

I am the Walrus.
Obla Dee Obla Da; Twist and Shout
Something.

Help!
Can't buy me love.
All you need is love.
Let it be.
Here comes the sun.

What does it mean? We are all just walruses in yellow submarines trying to find love.

We chase after rainbows all our lives looking for what? Love. That's all people want. That's all we need. And that's the one thing we are most reluctant to do. And one thing we are most reluctant to accept. The one thing we try to buy with money and find ourselves more desperate for it than ever. So Let. Let love happen. You will find love when you love.

You do totally realize I just took the message of Christ and cloaked it as if it came from The Beatles, right?

If you are totally daft and missed what wasn't so obvious, this whole post is about Love, defined by one of the Corinthians in the Bible, which sums up to, "Don't be a selfish asshole. Be a decent human being." I'm just saying, tis the time of year to wake up and smell the dirty diapers and clean house. It's the time of growth. And the way we humans grow is via love.

I know. I'm a little abstract.

Awkward Pumps and Love

I haven't done the Sunday Confession thing in a while because I have been struggling to blog as real life kicks my donkey. I have high moments and low moments, and someday I might confess what is really going on with me, but I'm kind of hoping I just get better and don't have to. If you people knew how crazy I really was, you probably wouldn't want to read this blog, or maybe that would make you want to read it more. I don't know. Crazy seems to be the in-thing now. Maybe I should just spill my guts out like an online group therapy to get famous. Maybe I need a pair of cojones first. They are like socks. You can always find one, but the other was probably eaten by the dryer monster.

Anyway, today's Sunday Confession writing prompt is Awkward Moments.


TODAY's AWKWARD MOMENT

I went to the gas station that uses old pumps because I know the owners and am a loyal customer to that place in particular. It's the one where the people who work there become friends because they work there and I go there that frequently. I mentioned older pumps because it was kind of busy when I pulled in, so I had to share a pump with a guy. That sounds dirty. Anyway, he's got a huge honker truck and I'm in a Toyota Camry, so I have the smaller tank, (which makes total sense because he was a black man and you know what they say about black men and their pumps and tanks) and the entire time I pumped, I felt so guilty for slowing down his pump. I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was like Tell Tale Heart, I murdered his time and I should have waited until he finished to pump like a lady, but who does that? Nobody. Just me. So I'm pumping right? And when I was done, without thinking, I thanked the guy.

Rereading already sounds more like porn than getting gas. Anyway. He looked at me like I was on crack. I would have too. He was just pumping gas and some crazy white woman wearing a nice red sweater and purple sweat pants thanks him randomly. For no reason. He hadn't heard all my thoughts about sharing pumps. So of course, to make the situation "better," after realizing I thanked him, I decided the best thing for me to do at that point was.... Duh Duh Dummmmmmmm. Explain. I don't know why because that ALWAYS makes it worse. ALWAYS! The more I talked, the more stupid I sounded. I'm not even sure what I said exactly, but I was telling him we were sharing pumps and I pumped slowing down his pump and I'm sorry. You know, it sounds much worse telling you than it felt at the time.

Then I just stopped mid sentence and walked away telling myself I am so stupid and that's okay.

TODAY's MOMENT THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN AWKWARD BUT WASN'T 

I want to get cereal for a minute (cereal is what I say for serious sometimes). I also ran into a random lady at Church offering me assistance. I was trying to find someone and he had already left, so she asked if she could help me. I told her I just needed prayers. She offered money. I said, "Just prayers." Then she said, "I love you." Now that was an amazing feeling, being told by someone you just met that they love you. I needed to hear someone say that so bad today. And it felt even more amazing to return it with, "I love you too." Then we hugged.

I don't think I can ever relay in words the importance of this to me. I'm the type of person where Love is like my anti-kryptonite. When I feel loved by anyone and everyone, I'm on a high like no one can take me down. Like the Happy Song, Ain't nobody gonna bring me down my love is too high... When I don't feel loved, I don't go Katy Perry psycho evil dark horse. I love too hard for that. When I don't feel loved, I still love all those around me despite my feelings. And that makes me feel helpless because I have nothing to fight. I have nothing to revenge. All I have is a lonely pool of self pity. That feeling is my kryptonite. I'm useless when I don't feel loved. All it takes sometimes is to hear one person say they love you to open your eyes and see the love around you. 

AND when I did find the man I was looking for, I learned a new prayer I'm sharing. I know, I don't sound religious on this blog, but I want to share the prayer because this isn't about religion. It's real. My new Mantra for the time being, one I hijacked from Dessert Monks...

Breathe in saying: Jesus, Son of the Living God,
Breathe out saying: have mercy on me, a sinner

Let in the Jesus. Let out the sin.

And just so you all know...

I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

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Post Mother's Day Anti-Depression

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I've read a lot of charming blogs about Mothers Day. I saw a lot of Facebook posts of moms getting breakfast in bed, bubbles baths to read their favorite book, beautiful pics of visiting a grandma or something... Here's my secret. I hate Mother's Day. It ranks up there with Valentine's Day. It's a limp dick. A holiday designed to give you orgasmic level expectations to leave you sitting frustrated and disappointed because there just isn't enough blood pumping in the right place at the right time leaving you with a useless sack of sperm to play with making you go "completely nuts." And you can't be pissed because you love the impotent person enough to not hurt their feelings. So when I see pictures of women enjoying a bubble bath (no nudity duh), I want to diabolically throw glitter all over them and their perfectly clean bathroom to truly make them sparkle. Nothing personal. Just jealousy.

My mother's day was not a good day for the most part. I don't think it was my negativity that did me in. I actually started off the day positive.

• I tried to write and didn't get to because I was servicing my kids (not feeding them, but things like getting them that thing that is 2 feet in front of them and breaking up fist fights) too frequent to focus or be creative. 
• Then Mother Nature gave me her Mother's Day present (the monthly uterine wrecking ball), and of course, I'm out of all my hygiene products... 
• Why do I sometimes call my oldest kid Hercules? Let me see your 6 year old daughter rip out a RECLINING sectional piece of the sofa to the middle of the floor and flip it, and tear out a piece of drywall for fun. 
• What goes better with eggs than a heaping cup of Baking Soda? Accidentally dumping baking soda on your frying dozen eggs while looking for the missing baking powder for pancakes, now that's the priceless shit Mastercard can't buy. So basically, everyone had sandwiches, everyone except me of course because not enough bread. 
• Then at the brink of passing out from hunger, I got a Big Mac (my mother's day breakfast lunch and dinner) on my way to my mom's house devouring it while driving and handing kids stuff, meaning I just drove like a drunken crazy person, while listening to the wonderful music of my children screaming, squealing (horror movie scream) and fighting. 
• Drama like Jerry Springer on TNT ensued at mom's house... over me not getting my nephew I was watching home fast enough because that would be my responsibility. And why was it so important? They were planning to take him to his dad's mom's house. Yes, if you are 10 minutes late for that, the apocalypse would definitely begin. Ironically, he was going to be on time, but everybody had to dig their own grave and blame me, why not? It's my fault because I chose to have my children. 
• Then I took all 3 kids to Dairy Queen by myself, and then devoured 2 slices of different cakes I couldn't taste thanks to the cold (like dieting suicide right there).

Mind you too, I endured that day with a migraine, the period, a swollen ankle that I supposedly sprained 2 months ago but obviously did a little more damage than that, and i can't prove it because the 3 trips to the doctor's office over it were all about how it's normal for an ankle to still be swollen. I was also tired since I accidentally took my kid's antihistamine aiming for my Tussin. And I have the snot monster cold, meaning my throat hurts, I'm coughing every 5 seconds like death, and I have green ooze coming out of my nose.

In addition, a few days ago, and I hate to admit this on a blog, but I will because I think some people can sadly empathize to an extent... I was damn near suicidal. The only thing to stop me was the fact that I didn't have a babysitter for it. Here's a list of my current goals to explain...

1. Divorce-- more expensive than getting married. Just like a wedding, requires a shit ton of planning. I do hope to be the most beautiful anti-bride on that big day. I think my colors are going to be Funeral Black and Mistress Red. If I could just get the date planned. The husband doesn't seem to care when it happens, like the sooner the better. I mean we are in anti-love, young anti-love. But, we just don't want to rush it since that would mean getting 2 big houses furnished for the kids...

2. Do my resume-- I know this sounds like an item on a to do list, but for me in my world, it's a long term goal. Why? Because I do everything with my children, so it takes about a thousand times longer to accomplish something. But I do kind of need an income if I plan on being a single mom. I'm a little old to actually get paid for hooking or any other "worst case scenario" solutions I had going for the last decade.

3. Write a book-- Face it. Nobody wants to hire a mom who has been out of work for so long. This is my back up plan. I was thinking of telling the story about my in laws and the possible Santeria curse, except I'm going to label the book fiction because I don't think anyone will believe me that it's a true story, plus i can deny being a part of it. This way, my inlaws can fund the divorce (usually the anti-bride's family pays for such events, usually because most of the gifts are for the anti-bride like 17 different blenders or is that weddings?).

4. Clean the house--- I keep saying this for years. I really do want to have a clean house. Some day I suppose I will get it. Until then, I'll just keep cleaning and cleaning and cleaning. In case you missed it, I have 3 children under the age of 7, and one is hyperactive high functioning autism. Did you read the part about the sofa?

5. Beat up the demon--- He might be a hallucination. He might be the Santeria Curse. He might be an actual demon who has been in this house disguising himself as a little boy for the last 3 years and is the cause of things like the constant mess and the divorce. Negativity spawns negativity. I did try burning sage. Made it worse. Holy water helps though, so that's what has me thinking it might not be a chronic sleep deprived hallucination. Either way, I beat it up once, but since it fucks with me every time I try to sleep, I really would like to kill the little bugger. He will be in the book if I ever get to write it.

6. Get a new car--- All 3 cars are in the shop. Two of them are totally done for. Nothing like a car payment before getting divorced.

7. Clean myself up from addiction--- I'm addicted to Motrin. Actually NSAIDS in general. I take at least 400 mg a day up to the 1600 mg limit. Why? If my ankle doesn't hurt from tripping over that pebble months ago running to a crying kid diving into a mud puddle (I might of did a flip without a high dive), then it's my knees. See, I'm double jointed, and now I'm old, and they don't make WD40 for people. Only tin men in Oz get that kind of medical care. But then, there's the children induced migraines. It's not just me. They give other people migraines too.

I am honestly getting to a point where I just don't want to do it anymore. I'm sick of cleaning a mess that gets dirty the instant I clean it. I'm sick of taking care of everyone else because I'm totally neglecting myself, and nobody will let me take care of myself. Not at all. Not just my children, but also the husband, my family, my friends... I'm being consumed by people. I don't know how to make it stop. It's like I'm in a black hole, and I struggle and struggle just to prolong the sucking into the abyss thinking I'm close to getting out but no where near it.

Then Mother's Day Miracle (if you use your imagination)... I'm talking to my mother on the phone after the day decided to shut the fuck up for us...

When my mother was in college and dating her first husband, he was working down the street from her mom's house. She borrowed his car for school. So they met up every day at my grandmother's house at noon for lunch. My grandmother, every day, made them a nice lunch. My mother said, at that time, she didn't realize how special that was for my grandmother to do for them. She didn't realize how much work it was.

But this story cleared up a misconception I had. My grandmother was an alcoholic. She died Christmas of 1998 from liver failure. I was under the impression that grandma started drinking at motherhood. I mean the woman had 7 kids, couldn't drive (no license), and was poor. Her part time jobs, she walked to them. I just assumed that sucked so bad she had to drink. But my mother informed me her alcoholism started after the kids grew up and moved out. She was so depressed when she had nobody to take care of that she really enjoyed those little things like making lunch for my mom and her boyfriend every day.

My mom swore to me that I may not see this now... When I was my kids' age, she couldn't wait for me to grow up too. But some day, I will feel that same pain my grandmother felt, and my mother felt. That pain of boredom. The pain of figuring shit out and getting into the groove of the chaos with the kids for it to totally fucking disappear and leave me bored.

Because I score high on the IQ test for the visioning things part, you know, taking a 2D object and making it 3D in my head... I can see that. I can almost feel that. I can imagine my house empty, void of the chaos my children bring, and that is truly depressing... That future just gave me clarity that I desperately needed.

My grandmother used to say, "Life is great, as long as we don't weaken." 

Now how's that for supermom? Who else can nurse her granddaughter through a very trying time in her life from the grave? My grandma. Badass. And through who? My momma, BadAss Junior. All so that BadAss the third can get her groove on.

For reference, my Mother's Day Facebook Statuses...

This one, the first one, I made the extra attempt at being perky and positive.

Happy Mother's Day to all the women out there, whether you have kids or not, because I think if you don't have kids, celebrating this day anyway is the only way you will get to celebrate this day with all the shit implied with this day. A day to yourself. To get a break. To relax. The only way you get to do that as mom is to celebrate this day BEFORE you become a mom. So Happy Mother's Day to all you people who have a uterus. To all you moms out there, if your things you married and your spawns let you have some time to yourself, you should totally thank them with some home cooked meal tomorrow or next week. So far, we'll be ordering pizza. And to everyone who is all "this is the day we appreciate moms for their hard work," Fuck You. You should do that every day you dirty bastard.

and then

Well today royally sucked. It sucked, swallowed, and then spat what was swallowed. This day was just a dirty whore.
I wrote it all out about the day. It's long. Like 2000 words long. I'm so tempted to post it somewhere public for all those involved.

Let me remind family members something. I blog. I blog about my life. While I currently blog anonymous, that is soon about to change. Maybe if I blogged these adventures I experience in Jerry Springer Wonderland, maybe people would actually start acting in a way that wouldn't embarrass themselves if they read about it on the internet. Seriously, if all of you are so righteous, then it shouldn't bother anyone for me to tell the world should it?

and then

AND in the future, I love children. I don't mind babysitting other people's children. BUT I am overwhelmed. Most of you this refers to can't possibly understand that with your simple easy lives full of people doing most of your work for you, but that doesn't change the fact that YOUR KID IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. If you want YOUR kid home to YOUR HOUSE at a certain time, then YOU need to get YOUR HAPPY ASS over here and pick up YOUR kid. If you want me to drive YOUR kid anywhere with my 3 kids to get them home for any reason, you are on MY SCHEDULE. That same situation is now in effect for my mother as well. You are not entitled to favors. AND you could be a little more appreciative of them as well.

Love and Marriage... and dirty dirty sex

For those who don't realize it, a lot of people on Facebook are changing their profile pics to a symbol similar to this. The original can be found at the Human Rights Facebook page here. What does it mean? Today is day 1 of the Supreme Court Hearings, today on Prop. 8 and tomorrow on DOMA. You too can show support for equal rights by changing your profile picture. I made this one sparkle. 

Now I personally am trying very hard to avoid politics with this blog, but I've said it before in a previous blog, it's really an unavoidable topic because it's about our lives and future. 

If one of my children grow up and discover they are attracted to their own gender, I don't want them to be denied the same rights I have just because of that. I'm all about equal rights. And that's what this is about more so than anything, providing equal rights to people. 

Marriage, however, is a difficult subject because it's based on religion, but we have evolved where marriage is also a government contract between two people, one that we use to define a lot of what goes on in every day life. Marriage means something. Even if you don't believe in religion at all, marriage still means something. This tradition has evolved in of itself, going well beyond the boundaries of religion. So from a government contract perspective, I'm all about it.

I'm all about helping people save money on their tax returns, and we all know married filing jointly helps, a lot. I am also all about helping people get healthcare, and you have to be married to get on your spouse's insurance. I'm also all about helping children stay with their other parent after one dies, and that's like impossible for a same sex couple to have that right without a marital contract (and obviously by parent, I mean person raising and caring for child, not person who donated sperm or womb).

Now, I may not be a religious person, but I am a very spiritual one who believes in God, Jesus Christ, and the Bible. Maybe I was brainwashed as a child growing up in the Born Again religion, but I would think converting to Baptism and having a church do me really dirty would undo most of that. Either way, from a religious standpoint, I know most Christian based religions consider homosexuality a sin and therefore are not only against homosexuality at all, but they definitely oppose homosexuality in the "sacred" nature of marriage. Some Christian fanatics go even farther into the realm of hate, which to me is because they are also assholes, and that's what assholes do, hate people for stupid reasons. 

I don't think the Bible says homosexuality is a sin. I think it says freaky sex is a sin, and I think it's a sin almost everyone commits regularly, whether they are homosexual or not. But I DO (haha punny) love it when someone gets all "homosexuality is a sin," and that someone is someone I know for a fact has no room to talk about sin in the bedroom (either because I was with them when they committed the sin, or because they brag about their awesome sex). It just amazes me people who themselves engage in oral sex, anal sex, masturbation as foreplay, dildo's, nipple clips, butt plugs... will lecture people about the sanctity of sex. Even more hypocrisy when they commit ADULTERY (that is a commandment breaker whereas being homosexual is not), lie to their spouses, divorce... lecturing us about the sanctity of marriage. Jesus did say something about casting stones once didn't He? 

I just believe God is Love and where there is love, there is God, and if two people want to get married, that has to be love because marriage is a sacrifice, a very big sacrifice, a bigger sacrifice than death, and if love isn't a good enough reason to do something, then God isn't either, so if you love God at all, you'll love love, no matter what. 

Whatever happens with this Supreme Court stuff, I do have faith that love will conquer all, eventually, and by the time my children are old enough to be allowed to get married at all, that they will have the option to marry any person they wish to marry, outside of incest.

The sad thing is, when I talk about homosexual marriage, the only time I really need to censor what I say is when it comes to the Bible, ironically. I'm telling you people, that book should be rated R with a parental advisory sticker for violence and sex. 

Donna's Day

About 7 years ago, I was on the phone with my best friend and sisterwife. "Jamie, I have something to tell you." and she responds, "I have to tell you something too." We argued about who was going to go first for a few minutes, she telling me to go first, and me telling her to go first, and she did. It was about her two year old.

"Deziray is not going to make it. We have just decided to unplug the machines keeping her alive." She tells me the whole story, and in the middle of me apologizing profusely, she asks, "What was your news?" I was like, "I can't tell you. Nevermind it." She was like, "Tell me," and I'm like, "I have to tell you but I can't now." She's like, "You're pregnant." There I am wailing in tears, "I'm so sorry, yes. I'm sorry." The day I found out I was pregnant with my first child was the day my best friend found out she was going to lose her youngest.

Deziray was diagnosed with a brain tumor when she was 6 months old. They performed a surgery and removed it. According to the autopsy, she had fully recovered from the cancer. She was a cancer survivor. But, with all that cancer involved, she was prone to infection. She went to the ER sick, and they transferred her from her usual hospital to another one. We don’t know exactly what caused Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome, but we have suspicions. It's possible the nurse gave her too much oxygen regardless of my friend challenging the levels of oxygen. It's possible a nurse at the other hospital complicated the infection trying to use a less than sterile trach tube. It's possible the body organs just shut down from infection causing the ARDS, and it's possible the ARDS caused the organs to shut down one by one. Either way, that girl survived cancer.

I do feel guilty for being away when my friend experienced all this. I feel guilty for never really knowing Deziray. This was probably the most ultimate sacrifice I made by joining the military.

I don't do well with feelings. I don't really like having them. I hate sorting through them. I hate trying to identify them, and even worse, I hate finding words to describe them. Love is an easier topic to discuss than sadness, regret, understanding, acceptance… Between losing my father to cancer and losing my niece to post cancer treatment, I really don't know how to respond when I read stories of other people who experience anything similar. My heart wants to jump through whatever obstacles the internet might bring and just hug the person and tell them everything I feel and tell them everything is going to be okay and how awesome they are and how amazing their children are, but then the other part of me wants to bury all those feelings. What if I insult? What if I say something wrong? What if I add to their hurt by accident because irony is a bitch like that?

And now as a parent, when I read stories about pediatric cancer, my heart can't take it. My kids. I just want to hug my kids and hold them because some day, I might not get that luxury, and it's not fair that I get to when other people out there don't. I should not feel guilty for hugging my kids. I don't want to think about any of it. I don't want to think about a child suffering. I don't want to think about parents losing their child. I WANT to think about DIY crafts and how I need to clean the house. I want to laugh at internet memes of cats wearing glasses and unicorns farting rainbows.

But today is Donna's Day. Her mom wrote out the events of Donna's story one September ago, and it needs to be read. Yes it will make you cry. Yes it will make you want to jump in the internets and hug the pictures of that baby. Yes you will embark on an emotional rollercoaster in a matter of hours. But it will also give you hope. Amidst the fears of death, this story inspires you to truly live. She will make you feel. 

Not only is Mary Tyler Mom, Sheila, one of the best writers I ever had the pleasure of reading, but she is also one of the kindest people I have ever had the pleasure of cyber meeting. She thinks like a poet, and she describes the things we never think to describe. No better person can tell Donna's story than her (no offense to Mary Tyler Dad), not just because she's Donna's mother, but because she is who she is, a very beautiful person on the inside and out.

READ DONNA'S STORY

Donna left more behind to her family than memories. She left a legacy. Hope. Her love shines through the tragedy and reaches out beyond the grave to others facing the same fight. Donna's Good Things is a nonprofit organization with the following mission statement

"Our mission has grown and is guided by Donna’s approach to life. We aim to:
Provide joyful opportunities for children facing adversity, be it economic, familial, social or health related;
Encourage your good things by providing an online community where folks can share in words or photos something they've done influenced by Donna's inspiration.

Donna was in treatment for cancer for two and a half years, from the age of 20 months. Much of that time we spent in worry and anxiety. Donna herself, though, was a happy little kid. We played through her fears, delighted in her growth, and loved her. During that time, Donna taught us the value of finding joy in the dark moments, and finding hope in even the most hopeless times. To those who are facing dark and hopeless times, we hope to help you find that joy. And for those of you with health and happiness, we want to help you reach out too."

Donna's Good Things is totally involved in an event to raise money for the St. Baldrick's Foundation. You can get involved too. You can donate. You can join in and shave your head (that takes more courage than I have). You can also share Donna's story and links to the event. Giving 10 dollars to help fund the fight against cancer is awesome and the world needs that, but if you can touch someone like Donna has, you are contributing something more valuable than money. If you are in Chicago, you can attend the event in person at the Candlelight Restaurant on March 30th.

From Sheila,

"The purpose of the Donna Day campaign is to raise $ for our head shaving event on Saturday, March 30 in Chicago.  It is our second event.  Last year's started with a goal of $20K and we raised $79K!  This year we have many fewer heads to shave and have set a goal of $30K.  Our oldest shavee is 89 years old and she is doing it with her daughter, a returning shavee for us.  WOW!"

DONATE

I thank you Sheila, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing your story with such grace and beauty. I thank you for all the good you do in this world. You are one of the reasons God has yet to smite us all into pillars of salt. Your light gives me hope about the world we live in. Donna inspires me to be bigger than my problems. She has taught me that no matter how fragile our bodies may be, our spirit can remain strong.

To all you readers out there, you can go beyond hoping and become part of someone's hope. Now go be awesome. LIVE and GIVE. Ha, Dr. Seuss watch out, I'm starting to rhyme. We going to battle like rap artists some day, me and Dr. Seuss.