Today dawned with yet another rejection of my writing, this time by British publishing house Mills & Boon. I entered their "New Voices" writing contest last month. They chose 21 pieces out of 1090 entries and I'm not one of them.
I probably should have known I wasn't going to make it...my entry only had 21 comments on it and a reader rating of 56%. Still, I worked really hard and was hoping my writing would turn some heads. Of course it didn't. Why did I let myself think that it could?
You know why? Because 16 years of school told me I was talented. Award-winning, speech-making, newspaper-article talented. But the second I graduated from college I started to fail.
Sixty job rejections my first year in the "real world." All sorts of writing...magazine pieces, children's books, news stories and romance novels...rejected. Marketing proposals, advertising pitches, radio spots...rejected, rejected, rejected. And I haven't even started to count the number of times my broadcast news resume (my tape) went unnoticed.
So here I am: pregnant, unemployed and continually shunned from working society. And all I can think about is spending the rest of my life raising kids, making dinner and doing laundry. I hate myself for being depressed at that idea, as keeping a home is something to be proud of, but I always imagined something more for myself. Is that because of some societal brainwashing? If this was 1949 would I revel in housework and caring for my husband and children? And since it's 2011, I've been raised to think myself a failure if I can't have a career and a family at the same time.
I came across an article today about a "mommy's salary" proposal in South Africa. Basically a successful female businesswoman wants stay-at-home moms to get 10% of their husband's salary in order to translate how important raising kids is (because the only way human beings appreciate anything is if it makes money).
So I guess I'm not totally crazy at imagining 18 years of thankless sacrifice as a mother minus a career. But it's not like I can share that with anyone but the four people who read this blog. Because you know what happens when you say that to stay-at-home moms? They rip your head off. Do you know what happens when you say that to career women? They pat you on the head and look at you with insufferable pity.
Ghastly.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Twilight Saga
So I have now officially read all of the books in the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. You know, the ones Hollywood made the movies out of starring Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner (who I kind of have a crush on, poor boy).
I did not read the books right when they came out...I skipped right over teen stuff and into the realm of adult novels around the age of 12. And when it came to vampire books, I was always more canon-oriented...Anne Rice, that sort of thing. And of course, Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who never strayed very far from pre-conceived vampire myths.
But My Husband was gone one of these past weeks and I was feeling lonely and romantic, so I Netflixed Twilight. I did not like it very much...Kristen Stewart's Bella stumbled through the movie bewildered and Robert Pattinson's Edward attempt at struggling with his conscience came across as constipated. So I told my little sister, Sarah, a HUGE Twilight fan, about my reaction and she suggested the books were much better. Considering Sarah has probably read ten books cover to cover in her entire 24 years, I gave it a shot.
I started with #3, Eclipse and immediately proceeded to #4, Breaking Dawn. Then I read the 12 online chapters of Midnight Sun (Twilight from Edward's perspective), then Twilight and finally #2 New Moon. In case you were wondering, each novel took me less than 24 hours. Reading comprehension has always been one of my strengths.
My opinion is, of course, tempered by all my previous experiences with vampire literature. I felt Stephenie Meyer strayed a bit too far from canon...mostly concerning how we are all pretty much alive at a vampire's discretion and there is absolutely nothing one can do to defend oneself if under attack. Obviously I agree vampires are stronger, swifter and more silent than human beings but the complete lack of weaknesses (no stakes? no sun?) makes them more godlike than I am used to. I hate the idea of there being no hope unless some other magical creature comes to my rescue or the vampires have decided to abstain from human blood.
I appreciated the utter romance of Bella and Edward's relationship but could never get over her seemingly callous treatment of Jacob. Considering My Husband's looks, temperament and build, I'd assume I'm more of a werewolf girl at heart anyway. Sarah thought I'd be 100% behind Edward and Bella no matter what (I have a reputation as a romantic), but there were a number of points I wished she'd just shut up about it and go with Jacob. Especially after Edward abandoned her (New Moon) and didn't pay nearly enough to get Bella to take him back.
Don't misunderstand me. My love for My Husband is epic. But if he left me for 8 months, telling me he didn't love me anymore and then came back after I prevented him from committing suicide...you don't even KNOW how I would make him pay. I love him with my whole heart, and if he broke it I may require the breaking of his bones to cover the debt. Then I'd forgive him. Pain for pain.
Still, no one writes more romantic men than women. I wonder if it's because we know exactly what we want to hear? I mean, some of the words to come out of Edward's mouth were enough to melt all my insides. Maybe that's what Meyer's plan was...Edward, with his cold skin and gentlemanly, from-another-era manners, represents the platonic, old school aspect of love. And Jacob's husky voice, high temperature and warm body equates the lust Bella can't have with Edward until she's his equal. Still, Jacob's devotion to her was painful.
I don't understand why she didn't just say, "I've imprinted on Edward, and we are soul mates. I love you as a friend and as a brother but I will never, EVER feel the way about you that you feel for me." You know? It was so Arthur-Guinevere-Lancelot I could have puked.
Of course, I was lucky enough to convince one man to fall in love with me, so I've never had the patience for girls who inspire that kind of genuine commitment from multiple suitors.
I did not read the books right when they came out...I skipped right over teen stuff and into the realm of adult novels around the age of 12. And when it came to vampire books, I was always more canon-oriented...Anne Rice, that sort of thing. And of course, Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who never strayed very far from pre-conceived vampire myths.
But My Husband was gone one of these past weeks and I was feeling lonely and romantic, so I Netflixed Twilight. I did not like it very much...Kristen Stewart's Bella stumbled through the movie bewildered and Robert Pattinson's Edward attempt at struggling with his conscience came across as constipated. So I told my little sister, Sarah, a HUGE Twilight fan, about my reaction and she suggested the books were much better. Considering Sarah has probably read ten books cover to cover in her entire 24 years, I gave it a shot.
I started with #3, Eclipse and immediately proceeded to #4, Breaking Dawn. Then I read the 12 online chapters of Midnight Sun (Twilight from Edward's perspective), then Twilight and finally #2 New Moon. In case you were wondering, each novel took me less than 24 hours. Reading comprehension has always been one of my strengths.
My opinion is, of course, tempered by all my previous experiences with vampire literature. I felt Stephenie Meyer strayed a bit too far from canon...mostly concerning how we are all pretty much alive at a vampire's discretion and there is absolutely nothing one can do to defend oneself if under attack. Obviously I agree vampires are stronger, swifter and more silent than human beings but the complete lack of weaknesses (no stakes? no sun?) makes them more godlike than I am used to. I hate the idea of there being no hope unless some other magical creature comes to my rescue or the vampires have decided to abstain from human blood.
I appreciated the utter romance of Bella and Edward's relationship but could never get over her seemingly callous treatment of Jacob. Considering My Husband's looks, temperament and build, I'd assume I'm more of a werewolf girl at heart anyway. Sarah thought I'd be 100% behind Edward and Bella no matter what (I have a reputation as a romantic), but there were a number of points I wished she'd just shut up about it and go with Jacob. Especially after Edward abandoned her (New Moon) and didn't pay nearly enough to get Bella to take him back.
Don't misunderstand me. My love for My Husband is epic. But if he left me for 8 months, telling me he didn't love me anymore and then came back after I prevented him from committing suicide...you don't even KNOW how I would make him pay. I love him with my whole heart, and if he broke it I may require the breaking of his bones to cover the debt. Then I'd forgive him. Pain for pain.
Still, no one writes more romantic men than women. I wonder if it's because we know exactly what we want to hear? I mean, some of the words to come out of Edward's mouth were enough to melt all my insides. Maybe that's what Meyer's plan was...Edward, with his cold skin and gentlemanly, from-another-era manners, represents the platonic, old school aspect of love. And Jacob's husky voice, high temperature and warm body equates the lust Bella can't have with Edward until she's his equal. Still, Jacob's devotion to her was painful.
I don't understand why she didn't just say, "I've imprinted on Edward, and we are soul mates. I love you as a friend and as a brother but I will never, EVER feel the way about you that you feel for me." You know? It was so Arthur-Guinevere-Lancelot I could have puked.
Of course, I was lucky enough to convince one man to fall in love with me, so I've never had the patience for girls who inspire that kind of genuine commitment from multiple suitors.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
No Questions Asked
This Saturday is the annual fall festival here on post, so our Squadron is taking the opportunity to do a little fundraising. Occasionally Squadron does...euphemism alert!...ask for FRG volunteers to help out. And since no one likes to give up a Saturday playing bitch to Squadron except Squadron people, said volunteering is generally done by the FRG leader (definition...me). And because we're selling food, I had to take a food handler's course and quiz and get a card signed by someone at the Public Health Building (which is not a real building, but a trailer) on post.
My experience at the Public Health Building was very odd. I walked in and there were three men sitting at a table watching the door...like they were the American Idol judges or something. I said, "I'm here to get my food service card," and one got up and asked for my quiz results. He then told me to hold out my hands (which I did) poured a white powder from a can onto them and told my to rub it into my skin (which I also did).
Then he told me to go to the bathroom and wash my hands. When I returned he had me hold them under some kind of violently purple machine (it looked like those fancy hand dryers that whip all the water off your hands in a curtain of air). The machine connected to a camera, showing my hands to the other two men. He asked me to flip them over. Then he said, "Very good," and gave me my card.
I must have had a look on my face because another man hurriedly got up to explain the process...the powder is called "Glitterbug" and glows under the purple machine if you don't wash your hands properly. I said, "Wow, how CSI of you guys," and left.
As soon as I got back in the car, I thought about how stupid it was to let three men I'd never seen before put powder all over my hands without asking what it was. I get it was, like, a little test but I should have tried to ask what was going on.
Are all human beings this conditioned to take orders from people who simply appear like they know what they're doing?
There have been an number of experiments to explore this...most notably the Milgram Experiment at Yale in the early 1960s. Stanley Milgram, a sociologist, wanted to see how far people would take orders from a man acting as a scientist...his goal was to see if the Holocaust was more of a mob mentality than anything else.
One person would be "strapped" to an electroshock machine in a separate room (after telling everyone he had a heart condition) and one person (the REAL guinea pig) would "control" the shocks. The guinea pig asked the guy strapped to the machine questions and if he got them wrong would "shock" him, the voltage rising each time. No actual shocks were ever administered, except one small one to the guinea pig to show what the shocks felt like.
There were recorded sounds of someone shouting, then screaming if the "shocks" persisted. The person strapped to the machine would bang on the wall and yell about his heart condition; all the while the "scientist" was encouraging and then ordering the guinea pig to continue administering the shocks. Finally, there were no sounds coming from the other room.
Before the experiment, Milgram polled psychology students about how many people he'd study would administer the highest 450 volt shock (that's 30 incorrect questions and can be a lethal dose of electricity), and they estimated less than 2%. After the experiment finished, a total of 65% of participants rendered the 450 volt shock, even if they said they were uncomfortable doing so.
No one, not even the people who refused to administer the high-voltage shocks, demanded the experiment be terminated or insisted on checking on the health of the other "participant."
Of course, this experiment raised a lot of questions as to ethics in human experimentation and the what information is mandatory when participating. Many people experienced PTSD, knowing they were willing to shock someone "to death" because they were told to do so.
When we discussed this experiment in my Psychology 101 seminar in college, I knew I'd be the one to refuse shocking the other person, to question the experiment and to demand to check on the health of the one I was shocking.
But there I was today, letting some guy in ACUs pour white powder all over my hands and not even considering what it could do to my unborn baby.
My experience at the Public Health Building was very odd. I walked in and there were three men sitting at a table watching the door...like they were the American Idol judges or something. I said, "I'm here to get my food service card," and one got up and asked for my quiz results. He then told me to hold out my hands (which I did) poured a white powder from a can onto them and told my to rub it into my skin (which I also did).
Then he told me to go to the bathroom and wash my hands. When I returned he had me hold them under some kind of violently purple machine (it looked like those fancy hand dryers that whip all the water off your hands in a curtain of air). The machine connected to a camera, showing my hands to the other two men. He asked me to flip them over. Then he said, "Very good," and gave me my card.
I must have had a look on my face because another man hurriedly got up to explain the process...the powder is called "Glitterbug" and glows under the purple machine if you don't wash your hands properly. I said, "Wow, how CSI of you guys," and left.
As soon as I got back in the car, I thought about how stupid it was to let three men I'd never seen before put powder all over my hands without asking what it was. I get it was, like, a little test but I should have tried to ask what was going on.
Are all human beings this conditioned to take orders from people who simply appear like they know what they're doing?
There have been an number of experiments to explore this...most notably the Milgram Experiment at Yale in the early 1960s. Stanley Milgram, a sociologist, wanted to see how far people would take orders from a man acting as a scientist...his goal was to see if the Holocaust was more of a mob mentality than anything else.
One person would be "strapped" to an electroshock machine in a separate room (after telling everyone he had a heart condition) and one person (the REAL guinea pig) would "control" the shocks. The guinea pig asked the guy strapped to the machine questions and if he got them wrong would "shock" him, the voltage rising each time. No actual shocks were ever administered, except one small one to the guinea pig to show what the shocks felt like.
There were recorded sounds of someone shouting, then screaming if the "shocks" persisted. The person strapped to the machine would bang on the wall and yell about his heart condition; all the while the "scientist" was encouraging and then ordering the guinea pig to continue administering the shocks. Finally, there were no sounds coming from the other room.
Before the experiment, Milgram polled psychology students about how many people he'd study would administer the highest 450 volt shock (that's 30 incorrect questions and can be a lethal dose of electricity), and they estimated less than 2%. After the experiment finished, a total of 65% of participants rendered the 450 volt shock, even if they said they were uncomfortable doing so.
No one, not even the people who refused to administer the high-voltage shocks, demanded the experiment be terminated or insisted on checking on the health of the other "participant."
Of course, this experiment raised a lot of questions as to ethics in human experimentation and the what information is mandatory when participating. Many people experienced PTSD, knowing they were willing to shock someone "to death" because they were told to do so.
When we discussed this experiment in my Psychology 101 seminar in college, I knew I'd be the one to refuse shocking the other person, to question the experiment and to demand to check on the health of the one I was shocking.
But there I was today, letting some guy in ACUs pour white powder all over my hands and not even considering what it could do to my unborn baby.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Thanksgiving Travel
Seriously, I may cry.
I'm attempting to book flights for My Husband and I to visit my family this Thanksgiving (his family gets Christmas this year). Of course he doesn't get the Wednesday before Thanksgiving off, so I'm trying to book after 5pm since the closest airport is 2 hours away and return at some point on Sunday the 27th. Can I do this for under $1000? I think not. I may not be able to do this at all.
It's just so unfair. What gives the airlines the right to jack up their prices not only on holidays, but on the 10 days surrounding those holidays?! It's bad enough I'm 1500 miles from my family, most of whom I haven't seen since Christmas, but in order to visit them for a measly 4 days I have to take out a freaking bank loan to pay for it.
If I drive, I have to do it on my own since My Husband doesn't have enough time off to make the two-day trek. And of course every girl wants to be alone on a dark road in the middle of nowhere 5 months pregnant with her first child.
Sidenote: it's military policy that one cannot use one's vacation time in addition to authorized block leave. So if My Husband were to request Wednesday off as one of his built up vacation days, he'd be required to take the rest of the holiday weekend from his time as well. So we have the "choice" of using 0 vacation days or 5.
And even my "in" with Southwest is getting me nowhere...my free flight, courtesy of the amount of money I spend on my Southwest Visa Rewards Card, isn't valid for travel during the week of Thanksgiving. I had to use it on our Christmas flights (which I booked and still cost us $600 with my airtime being free).
THIS IS SO FUCKING STUPID.
I hate this. I hate it. Why does air travel have to cost me a month and a half's rent? Because the airlines made some shitty deal with the oil companies when oil was $200 a barrel and now that it's way down they're still paying? Don't even get me started on the oil companies.
Of course I could forgo Southwest and pay the $100 round-trip bag fee on any other airline. I could ship our luggage to my parent's house, but the Postal Service may fold before it got there.
So here's my $1500...for a flight with at least one stop in the middle, getting felt up by security, a plane that won't leave or arrive on time and is more than likely overbooked, with a pilot who's on Facebook while flying, no food or drinks for free and a two-hour trek home after we land. Sign me the fuck up.
I'm so very unhappy with this situation. If I wasn't so stuck on spending THE ENTIRE CHRISTMAS holiday with my family next year instead of splitting it in half like last year and freaking having second Christmas at my mother-in-law's I'd call the whole thing off and just have Thanksgiving here.
But I haven't seen my family since I found out I was pregnant and I miss them something awful.
Love costs. Frankly, with the amount love has cost me in the past and undoubtedly will cost me in the future, I can't believe I have anything more to give.
I'm attempting to book flights for My Husband and I to visit my family this Thanksgiving (his family gets Christmas this year). Of course he doesn't get the Wednesday before Thanksgiving off, so I'm trying to book after 5pm since the closest airport is 2 hours away and return at some point on Sunday the 27th. Can I do this for under $1000? I think not. I may not be able to do this at all.
It's just so unfair. What gives the airlines the right to jack up their prices not only on holidays, but on the 10 days surrounding those holidays?! It's bad enough I'm 1500 miles from my family, most of whom I haven't seen since Christmas, but in order to visit them for a measly 4 days I have to take out a freaking bank loan to pay for it.
If I drive, I have to do it on my own since My Husband doesn't have enough time off to make the two-day trek. And of course every girl wants to be alone on a dark road in the middle of nowhere 5 months pregnant with her first child.
Sidenote: it's military policy that one cannot use one's vacation time in addition to authorized block leave. So if My Husband were to request Wednesday off as one of his built up vacation days, he'd be required to take the rest of the holiday weekend from his time as well. So we have the "choice" of using 0 vacation days or 5.
And even my "in" with Southwest is getting me nowhere...my free flight, courtesy of the amount of money I spend on my Southwest Visa Rewards Card, isn't valid for travel during the week of Thanksgiving. I had to use it on our Christmas flights (which I booked and still cost us $600 with my airtime being free).
THIS IS SO FUCKING STUPID.
I hate this. I hate it. Why does air travel have to cost me a month and a half's rent? Because the airlines made some shitty deal with the oil companies when oil was $200 a barrel and now that it's way down they're still paying? Don't even get me started on the oil companies.
Of course I could forgo Southwest and pay the $100 round-trip bag fee on any other airline. I could ship our luggage to my parent's house, but the Postal Service may fold before it got there.
So here's my $1500...for a flight with at least one stop in the middle, getting felt up by security, a plane that won't leave or arrive on time and is more than likely overbooked, with a pilot who's on Facebook while flying, no food or drinks for free and a two-hour trek home after we land. Sign me the fuck up.
I'm so very unhappy with this situation. If I wasn't so stuck on spending THE ENTIRE CHRISTMAS holiday with my family next year instead of splitting it in half like last year and freaking having second Christmas at my mother-in-law's I'd call the whole thing off and just have Thanksgiving here.
But I haven't seen my family since I found out I was pregnant and I miss them something awful.
Love costs. Frankly, with the amount love has cost me in the past and undoubtedly will cost me in the future, I can't believe I have anything more to give.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Random Rumor: Used Condoms Recycled in China
Disgusting but true: some China-made headbands are nothing more than used condoms swathed in brightly-colored thread.
A sharp-eyed Chinese consumer made this startling discovery when one of her hairbands began to unravel. Noticing an odd flesh color in the rubber underneath the threading, she unravelled the piece and found the base material looked remarkably like a condom. Unfortunately for her, it was.
According to the manufacturing company, the condoms were unused and failed to meet government standards and so were resold to the hairband maker. One wonders, however, if the tests performed on the condoms to discover their less-than-stellar properties resulted in used condoms being thrown into these batches as well.
What another wonderful reason to buy American!
*This story and its included photos courtesy of http://www.snopes.com
A sharp-eyed Chinese consumer made this startling discovery when one of her hairbands began to unravel. Noticing an odd flesh color in the rubber underneath the threading, she unravelled the piece and found the base material looked remarkably like a condom. Unfortunately for her, it was.
According to the manufacturing company, the condoms were unused and failed to meet government standards and so were resold to the hairband maker. One wonders, however, if the tests performed on the condoms to discover their less-than-stellar properties resulted in used condoms being thrown into these batches as well.
What another wonderful reason to buy American!
*This story and its included photos courtesy of http://www.snopes.com
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Due Date
Today is September 15; that means my baby is due in exactly 7 months. Granted, I'm not looking at April 15 as my "have baby or bust" date...due dates are merely a doctor/parent attempt to gain some control over a pretty uncontrollable situation. Still, it's a good ballpark to have.
I think April is a nice time to have a baby. It feels mammalian...having my baby in the spring so it has the whole summer and fall to grow and survive it's first winter. Like a squirrel.
Plus an April baby means a first Halloween at 6 months (think of the adorable costumes!) and a first Christmas at 9 months (Christmas outfits and all sorts of crawling around under the tree!).
It's probably very un-parentlike of me, but I'm really looking forward to when my baby does more than sleep, eat, cry and poop. You know, around the 3 month mark when he can smile and bounce around a little and not look like a wrinkly potato you scrubbed too hard in hot water.
I like babies as a rule. But everything I've seen of newborns, they appear pretty nonreactive. And teeny. I'm looking forward to a baby with a little more oomph to him.
I can't tell if I'm showing or if I'm just fat. Or bloated or some other symptom of pregnancy women don't mention as they float, Virgin Mary-like, through their term. I have a belly and my pants don't fit. But with a baby only an inch long, how much of that is him? Not much. I guess I'm just fat.
Someday the first trimester will be over and I will be able to eat the food I want without throwing it up and spend half an hour listening to my music on a treadmill without fainting dead away. Maybe then I'll feel less beefy and more babyish.
I think April is a nice time to have a baby. It feels mammalian...having my baby in the spring so it has the whole summer and fall to grow and survive it's first winter. Like a squirrel.
Plus an April baby means a first Halloween at 6 months (think of the adorable costumes!) and a first Christmas at 9 months (Christmas outfits and all sorts of crawling around under the tree!).
It's probably very un-parentlike of me, but I'm really looking forward to when my baby does more than sleep, eat, cry and poop. You know, around the 3 month mark when he can smile and bounce around a little and not look like a wrinkly potato you scrubbed too hard in hot water.
I like babies as a rule. But everything I've seen of newborns, they appear pretty nonreactive. And teeny. I'm looking forward to a baby with a little more oomph to him.
I can't tell if I'm showing or if I'm just fat. Or bloated or some other symptom of pregnancy women don't mention as they float, Virgin Mary-like, through their term. I have a belly and my pants don't fit. But with a baby only an inch long, how much of that is him? Not much. I guess I'm just fat.
Someday the first trimester will be over and I will be able to eat the food I want without throwing it up and spend half an hour listening to my music on a treadmill without fainting dead away. Maybe then I'll feel less beefy and more babyish.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Something
Oh, America. Have you missed me?
The past month has been one of the most eventful of my life. I'm pregnant with my first child.
According to my math (we haven't had an ultrasound to confirm yet) I'm 9 weeks along and due on or around April 15, 2012. My nausea has been terrible, my fatigue a real chore. And I'm fat.
I know it's a miracle...hell, I've spent dozens of posts chronicling our attempts to conceive. Still, the physical symptoms are intense and it's hard to be super-excited.
My Husband IS super-excited, as is his family. His sister India is also pregnant (she's due March 30) and took our news much better than I expected. I was worried she'd feel like we're "stealing her thunder" or something, especially if we have a boy and she has another girl. They're desperate for a boy since they're convinced no girl could be any better than their first daughter, now about two years old.
If we have a boy and they have a girl, I think there will be some drama. If they have a boy and we have a boy, I think there will be some lesser drama since our boy will be the first one to carry the Delaney surname. Basically when it comes to My Husband's family I anticipate drama in some shape or form.
My family is excited, though a bit more dignified about it. My sisters are both very happy for me, and my parents are too...although they're less interested in the day-to-day business than my in-laws are.
So I'm reading my books and doing my research. I have a belly and no one can tell me I don't. My pants don't button. And my belly is HARD...no one ever mentioned that to me. It's like I have a piece of concrete under my belly button.
In other news, I have tentatively entered into the world of writing once again. I'm entering a story in a Mills & Boon "New Voices" contest. Mills & Boon is a British publishing company with ties to Harlequin in the United States; yes, my piece is a romance novel. Please read it, comment on it and vote for it at:
http://www.romanceisnotdead.com/
And to the half a dozen or so readers who continued to check back here all last month to see if I'd posted anything new...I thank you.
The past month has been one of the most eventful of my life. I'm pregnant with my first child.
According to my math (we haven't had an ultrasound to confirm yet) I'm 9 weeks along and due on or around April 15, 2012. My nausea has been terrible, my fatigue a real chore. And I'm fat.
I know it's a miracle...hell, I've spent dozens of posts chronicling our attempts to conceive. Still, the physical symptoms are intense and it's hard to be super-excited.
My Husband IS super-excited, as is his family. His sister India is also pregnant (she's due March 30) and took our news much better than I expected. I was worried she'd feel like we're "stealing her thunder" or something, especially if we have a boy and she has another girl. They're desperate for a boy since they're convinced no girl could be any better than their first daughter, now about two years old.
If we have a boy and they have a girl, I think there will be some drama. If they have a boy and we have a boy, I think there will be some lesser drama since our boy will be the first one to carry the Delaney surname. Basically when it comes to My Husband's family I anticipate drama in some shape or form.
My family is excited, though a bit more dignified about it. My sisters are both very happy for me, and my parents are too...although they're less interested in the day-to-day business than my in-laws are.
So I'm reading my books and doing my research. I have a belly and no one can tell me I don't. My pants don't button. And my belly is HARD...no one ever mentioned that to me. It's like I have a piece of concrete under my belly button.
In other news, I have tentatively entered into the world of writing once again. I'm entering a story in a Mills & Boon "New Voices" contest. Mills & Boon is a British publishing company with ties to Harlequin in the United States; yes, my piece is a romance novel. Please read it, comment on it and vote for it at:
http://www.romanceisnotdead.com/
And to the half a dozen or so readers who continued to check back here all last month to see if I'd posted anything new...I thank you.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Omnipotent in America
Ah, election season is fast approaching. Makes me think of all the things on my personal political agenda.
Random List of (some) Things I Would Do if I was Omnipotent in America:
Random List of (some) Things I Would Do if I was Omnipotent in America:
- Make a rape or molestation conviction punishable by life in prison. Rape is murder the victim survives and should be treated as such.
- Require some form of military service in order to be eligible to run for President (opportunities will include all civilian support jobs).
- Lower the presidential eligibility age to 25. I know plenty of 25-year-olds I'd rather run the country than Sarah Palin or Mitt Romney.
- Require people to retake their driver's exam at age 65...and every two years after that until they die.
- Streamline the process for adopting/fostering American children. And lower the cost.
- Rehaul FEMA. Rehaul Welfare. Rehaul Medicaid. Rehaul Social Security (you get the idea).
- Federalize the following industries: aviation, energy and possibly medical care (but I have to do more research on that one).
- Create a rule that states every time members of Congress vote themselves a salary increase, an identical salary increase is put in effect for public school teachers.
- Make it a felony to possess any dog or cock fighting paraphernalia. Strengthen animal abuse laws and sentences.
- Get rid of the electoral college. We may have needed it in 1793, but not anymore.
- Streamline the process to become an American citizen. The quicker we get them in here, the quicker they'll have to pay taxes.
- Adopt an isolationist international relations policy until our military is back at full strength.
- A New New Deal: we've got a whole lot of unemployed people and a whole lot of infrastructure that's falling apart.
- Make Congress as a whole accountable to the IRS. Watch your spending now, won't you?
- Legalize marijuana and tax the hell out of it.
- Make it illegal to own a wild animal, like a tiger or a chimpanzee, as a pet. There are more tigers in Texas than in India.
- Let Jamie Oliver into all American public schools so he can work his nutritional magic.
- Federal funding to museums and zoos to lower or eradicate admittance fees.
- Remove the phrase "under God" from the Pledge of Allegiance. Remove all religious references from all American currency, documents, buildings and publicly funded entities. There's the separation of church and state for a reason.
- Revoke all "golden parachutes" for executives of businesses requiring federal bailouts and redistribute them among the American public. Don't worry, CEO, you'll get your (significantly downgraded) share.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Flirting
The other day one of my acquaintances, the wife of a soldier in My Husband's unit, wanted to know if the male trainers at our mutual gym are always asking how I am and offering me free samples of smoothies from the smoothie bar. Apparently she has a hard time getting through her workout without being interrupted by men at the gym (both employees and fellow customers).
This has not happened to me. Ever. It's possibly because I hate going to the gym and I'm probably wearing my scowl-y face through my entire workout, but still. Her comment kind of made me feel like there's something undesirable about me. I'm always hearing these stories about women never getting asked out and then the get married and all of a sudden guys are all over them. Not for me.
So I spent some time stewing over it, lamenting my un-flirt-worthy persona, when it hit me: friendly, handsome guys NEVER flirt with me. They never have. So why should now be any different than when I was 19?
Perhaps I should clarify that...there have been perfectly nice men that I've had some kind of relationship with (more than hooking up, less than going steady), but if I recall correctly I'm always the one who did the pursuing. No guy has ever run into me "accidentally on purpose" at a bookstore or invited me for drinks to a bar with his friends. I've been hit on, certainly. In very crude and leering ways. But those are not the kind of guys you bring home to your mother.
This led me to another realization: romantic comedies have FUCKED UP MY BRAIN. It's not realistic to expect a 6-foot-tall Ivy League educated athlete with a killer smile and interesting career to ignore all the models throwing themselves at him and chat me up in a coffee shop (thank you very much, Patrick Wilson of Morning Glory) and then look disappointed yet resigned when he finds out I'm married. And maybe pine for me just a little from afar.
In fact, I'd have to say the only handsome athlete with a strong character and a sense of humor to ever flirt with me is My Husband.
Does this make me sound ungrateful? I don't mean to be ungrateful. I know very well My Husband is way out of my league and with his looks and his steady paycheck he could have any woman he wants.
I shudder at the thought (as should all women reading this sentence), but I've been raised to desire un-creepy male attention and having My Husband gone all the time leaves that severely lacking in my life.
So I guess I just have to have my little Gigi from He Just Not That Into You moment and convince myself swoonworthy men don't swoop into my life and then bow out of it gracefully just to boost my confidence.
Life is not a Reese Witherspoon film, after all.
This has not happened to me. Ever. It's possibly because I hate going to the gym and I'm probably wearing my scowl-y face through my entire workout, but still. Her comment kind of made me feel like there's something undesirable about me. I'm always hearing these stories about women never getting asked out and then the get married and all of a sudden guys are all over them. Not for me.
So I spent some time stewing over it, lamenting my un-flirt-worthy persona, when it hit me: friendly, handsome guys NEVER flirt with me. They never have. So why should now be any different than when I was 19?
Perhaps I should clarify that...there have been perfectly nice men that I've had some kind of relationship with (more than hooking up, less than going steady), but if I recall correctly I'm always the one who did the pursuing. No guy has ever run into me "accidentally on purpose" at a bookstore or invited me for drinks to a bar with his friends. I've been hit on, certainly. In very crude and leering ways. But those are not the kind of guys you bring home to your mother.
This led me to another realization: romantic comedies have FUCKED UP MY BRAIN. It's not realistic to expect a 6-foot-tall Ivy League educated athlete with a killer smile and interesting career to ignore all the models throwing themselves at him and chat me up in a coffee shop (thank you very much, Patrick Wilson of Morning Glory) and then look disappointed yet resigned when he finds out I'm married. And maybe pine for me just a little from afar.
In fact, I'd have to say the only handsome athlete with a strong character and a sense of humor to ever flirt with me is My Husband.
Does this make me sound ungrateful? I don't mean to be ungrateful. I know very well My Husband is way out of my league and with his looks and his steady paycheck he could have any woman he wants.
I shudder at the thought (as should all women reading this sentence), but I've been raised to desire un-creepy male attention and having My Husband gone all the time leaves that severely lacking in my life.
So I guess I just have to have my little Gigi from He Just Not That Into You moment and convince myself swoonworthy men don't swoop into my life and then bow out of it gracefully just to boost my confidence.
Life is not a Reese Witherspoon film, after all.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Alone Again
After a three week hiatus, My Husband's unit is back in the field (this makes all of May, June and half of July away from home). Overnight stays, no phone calls, the whole shebang.
I actually got to see him for lunch today...he came home to eat and shower after an interview with a General (he's up for the position of an aide). I haven't spoken to him in three days so I thought it would be nice to catch up a little.
My Husband was very distracted and tired. It's hard to talk to him when he's like this, since I feel like I'm burdening him with the details of my day.
I feel stupid even telling you this, but here's my example:
I've always secretly wanted to learn to sing. My older sister had flute lessons and my younger sister had piano lessons, but my parents were afraid music lessons of any kind for me would encourage me in my "impractical aspirations" to be an actor. So now that I'm out of my parents' house, I've been researching voice coaches and chose one in the neighborhood to work with.
It's exceptionally nerve-wracking for me...I have zero confidence in my voice and I've been regularly told I'm tone deaf. Plus, this is something I really care about, you know, so I want to be good at it. I was a wreck.
But my lesson went really well and I like my teacher a lot. I told My Husband all about it and showed him my "homework," a song she wants me to learn. As I sat at the table, singing it under my breath and trying to figure out how to read the music, My Husband shushed me. Put his finger to his lips and shushed me like I was a toddler in time-out.
He was on the phone with his Commanding Officer (CO) and instead of moving away from me, he decided I should be the one to be quiet.
Then he kissed me and went back to work.
And it's so stupid, I know. I mean, the man is trying to work, dammit. He's in the field all the time, he's tired and he's filthy and he's stressed.
But I feel insignificant. I feel invisible.
I wonder why it's harder to deal with his absences when he's home than when he's deployed. When he's overseas, he depends so much on seeing me and hearing about the inane details of my inane life I feel really...necessary. But here it's like being teased. He's home but he's never really home...he's sleeping or decompressing or thinking about work. So I can see him but I can never really reach him.
I mean, My Husband doesn't even read this blog.
So what do I do? I go to the shelter and walk the dogs. I read. I watch TV. I reset the wireless Internet after thunderstorms. I send Sympathy cards. I shop for groceries. I go to the gym. I try to focus on myself, but I didn't fall and love and get married to focus on myself.
I actually got to see him for lunch today...he came home to eat and shower after an interview with a General (he's up for the position of an aide). I haven't spoken to him in three days so I thought it would be nice to catch up a little.
My Husband was very distracted and tired. It's hard to talk to him when he's like this, since I feel like I'm burdening him with the details of my day.
I feel stupid even telling you this, but here's my example:
I've always secretly wanted to learn to sing. My older sister had flute lessons and my younger sister had piano lessons, but my parents were afraid music lessons of any kind for me would encourage me in my "impractical aspirations" to be an actor. So now that I'm out of my parents' house, I've been researching voice coaches and chose one in the neighborhood to work with.
It's exceptionally nerve-wracking for me...I have zero confidence in my voice and I've been regularly told I'm tone deaf. Plus, this is something I really care about, you know, so I want to be good at it. I was a wreck.
But my lesson went really well and I like my teacher a lot. I told My Husband all about it and showed him my "homework," a song she wants me to learn. As I sat at the table, singing it under my breath and trying to figure out how to read the music, My Husband shushed me. Put his finger to his lips and shushed me like I was a toddler in time-out.
He was on the phone with his Commanding Officer (CO) and instead of moving away from me, he decided I should be the one to be quiet.
Then he kissed me and went back to work.
And it's so stupid, I know. I mean, the man is trying to work, dammit. He's in the field all the time, he's tired and he's filthy and he's stressed.
But I feel insignificant. I feel invisible.
I wonder why it's harder to deal with his absences when he's home than when he's deployed. When he's overseas, he depends so much on seeing me and hearing about the inane details of my inane life I feel really...necessary. But here it's like being teased. He's home but he's never really home...he's sleeping or decompressing or thinking about work. So I can see him but I can never really reach him.
I mean, My Husband doesn't even read this blog.
So what do I do? I go to the shelter and walk the dogs. I read. I watch TV. I reset the wireless Internet after thunderstorms. I send Sympathy cards. I shop for groceries. I go to the gym. I try to focus on myself, but I didn't fall and love and get married to focus on myself.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Good Old Fashioned Family Racism
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| Courtesy of the UN Alliance of Civilizations |
My father is racist. I've long since come to terms with it, even if I abhor his opinions. His father was a firefighter on the Southside of Chicago during the 1960s. For any of you who are familiar with Chicago's Southside in the 1960s, you understand why my father has some less than stellar opinions about African Americans. The Civil Rights movement (as does all social unrest, ie the current london riots) bred a number of incidents of opportunistic violence. Firefighters and police officers were on the front lines of these battles and suffered the consequences. I understand why my father, growing up in a time when his father's life was more in danger than usual, would seek out a scapegoat.
Now, please understand me: I DO NOT APPROVE OF RACISM. What I'm saying is one makes allowances for the people they love, despite their flaws, and I fully intend to raise my children to acknowledge their grandfather's opinions are wrong but to love him all the same.
As for me; I grew up in a rough sort of neighborhood where calling someone "white" was one of the most potent insults people could toss at one another. Caucasians were a minority and bore the brunt of societal racism. There were certain bathrooms we couldn't use under threat of violence, certain areas of the school bus we had to avoid. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. There were boys who wouldn't date me because of my color, people who suggested I dye my blonde hair brown to better pass for an exotic kind of white, like Sicilian or Portuguese.
I remember the pain, the tears. I remember the absolute idiocracy of judging someone based on the level of melanin in their skin cells. Some people chose hate under those circumstances ("If they don't like me, I don't like them."); I chose empathy. I don't ever want to make someone feel the way I felt.
This is the point where my personal judgements come through. I cannot justify racism among my generation and the other children of the Baby Boomers. I think of us as more educated, more tolerant and more exposed to other cultures than our parents and grandparents.
Frankly, I think we should know better.
My Husband's brother Dorian (age 29) is a racist; specifically about African-Americans and Hispanics. He regularly make comments about hygeine, lifestyle and language with these two peoples as his favorite target. Granted, he enjoys attention and a good portion of this may be to get a rise out of others. Most of it, I think, is genuine and springs from an insecurity and defensiveness his mother seemed to impart through her breast milk. My mother-in-law has the same feelings about African-Americans and Hispanics (and the French, for some reason. She hates the French).
I've taken to ignoring his remarks. This is not the best avenue, I'm sure, but it's the best for my sanity. Dorian is exceptionally antagonistic and illogical; arguing with him about this will just result in his anger and hostility. In past disagreements he's called me "a princess" and "arrogantly superior" when our philosophies don't match. The only way I can deal is to pretend I didn't hear anything. I don't respond, I don't laugh nervously, I don't sniff at his intolerance. I just disregard his words.
I can't end this post without a short point on Muslims. Ever since September 11, 2001, people of Middle Eastern descent (whether they practice Islam or not) have the dubious "honor" of being the new prejudicial punching bags; especially in military communities (you may remember a past post where I published a short story about the subject).
CALLING ALL MUSLIMS TERRORISTS IS EQUIVALENT TO CALL ALL CHRISTIANS MEMBERS OF THE KU KLUX KLAN. Think about that the next time you send out one of those disgusting chain emails about "towel-heads."
Racism is the easy way out. Educate yourselves, dammit. Take responsibility for your own lives and stop blaming others for society's ills. If God wanted us all identical, He would have made it so.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Some Favorite Movie Scenes
I'm a huge film fan. So when My Husband asked me last night what some of my favorite movie scenes of all time were, I had to oblige him. And then I had to write them down and share them with you :) Every single one of these movies is worth seeing; so if you haven't, I apologize for the spoilers and encourage you to rent them all!
Here are some of my top cinema scenes of all time (in no particular order):
Almost the whole thing is in slow motion and you still never get bored. Plus it's got Kevin Costner and Andy Garcia in their heyday shooting bad guys and saving babies. You can't lose. Photo courtesy of http://smith-wessonforum.com/s-w-hand-ejectors-1896-1961/148505-s-w-untouchables.html
Here are some of my top cinema scenes of all time (in no particular order):
- THE SHOOTOUT ON THE STEPS from The Untouchables, 1987
Almost the whole thing is in slow motion and you still never get bored. Plus it's got Kevin Costner and Andy Garcia in their heyday shooting bad guys and saving babies. You can't lose. Photo courtesy of http://smith-wessonforum.com/s-w-hand-ejectors-1896-1961/148505-s-w-untouchables.html - SHADOW COMES HOME from Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey, 1993
- RAQUEL WELCH SPILLS HER SECRET from The Shawshank Redemption, 1994
- THE GRINCH'S HEART GROWS from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, 1966
- REUNION IN THE REFLECTING POOL from Forrest Gump, 1994
- "I WILL FIND YOU!" UNDER THE WATERFALL from The Last of the Mohicans, 1992
- THE FIRST TIME THEY SEE THE DINOSAURS from Jurassic Park, 1993
- CINDERELLA SPINS INTO HER BALLGOWN from Walt Disney's Cinderella, 1950
- JANE RUSSELL AS MARILYN MONROE from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, 1953
- SIDNEY POITIER TELLS IT LIKE IT IS from Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, 1967
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Totally Looks Like...
Check out this outpost of ICanHasCheezburger, the HILARIOUS cat photo-caption site: it's devoted to photos of things that look like other photos of things.
The best one is that guy's great-great uncle Enoch, who does look exactly like Captain Barbossa.
http://totallylookslike.icanhascheezburger.com/
The best one is that guy's great-great uncle Enoch, who does look exactly like Captain Barbossa.
http://totallylookslike.icanhascheezburger.com/
Thursday, August 4, 2011
A Word on Polygamy
So maybe the world at large is not housebound taking in every minute of the Warren Jeffs trial (whose Texas crimes include the rape of a 12-year-old girl and group sex sessions in which he instructed his wives they must "work together" to please him sexually), but hopefully people are starting to notice the absolute misogyny many women are forced to put up with...a plural marriage (whether it's with little girls or grown women) blatantly forces females into the role of sexual playthings, incubators for children and little else.
Now, multiple marriages were a necessary function in early human history. It's a fact that any one healthy woman can only have one pregnancy at a time while any one healthy man can sire as many children as his penis can handle without falling off from sheer exhaustion. When the number one priority is the survival of the human race, emotional sacrifices must be made.
In fact, I think Europe in the Middle Ages would have been well-served to promote plural marriage for all its Christian residents. Lord knows it would have relieved some of the burden of the women who, in the words of author Phillippa Gregory, "walk the hard road between kitchen, church and childbed." There's nothing like not having to sire 15 children in as many years because you've got "sister wives" to help you out.
That being said, I can't imagine the reasons for polygamy today. Human existence, barring any natural or unnatural disaster, is not nearly the crapshoot it once was. We can set aside our obsession with survival and focus on other things...like making a genuine connection with another person that not only survives, but flourishes in, the 50 or so years of a marriage.
Speaking frankly, this means a person doesn't have to find a mate using the distinctly non-diplomatic checklist evolution provides us. Women who don't have the perfect child-bearing bodies (cough...Hollywood starlets) and men who have amazing personalities but slightly asymmetrical features are just as worthy of partnership now as those natural selection would have chosen on our behalf eons ago.
But one man having more than one wife at a time in the present day is a startling perversion of a once necessary tradition. Men who support and practice polygamy today are selfish, amoral and abhorrent if not completely brainwashed (as are the willing women who marry them).
In conclusion, I'd like to take a moment and mention how absolutely IDIOTIC it is for a family getting paid to be on a reality television show to sue a state over a privacy issue. TLC's Sister Wives chronicles a Utah man and his four wives (one legal and three "spiritual") and their brood of children. And they just want everyone to leave them alone. Hang on while I play my tiny violin.
God, how I'd like to go over his taxes. I bet he's fudging something.
Anyway, I draw parallels between agreeing to a reality show and going to prison...in doing so, you keep your basic rights but give up some others. Like the right to privacy and the right not to be made fun of on a late-night talk show. Or on a blog.
Now, multiple marriages were a necessary function in early human history. It's a fact that any one healthy woman can only have one pregnancy at a time while any one healthy man can sire as many children as his penis can handle without falling off from sheer exhaustion. When the number one priority is the survival of the human race, emotional sacrifices must be made.
In fact, I think Europe in the Middle Ages would have been well-served to promote plural marriage for all its Christian residents. Lord knows it would have relieved some of the burden of the women who, in the words of author Phillippa Gregory, "walk the hard road between kitchen, church and childbed." There's nothing like not having to sire 15 children in as many years because you've got "sister wives" to help you out.
That being said, I can't imagine the reasons for polygamy today. Human existence, barring any natural or unnatural disaster, is not nearly the crapshoot it once was. We can set aside our obsession with survival and focus on other things...like making a genuine connection with another person that not only survives, but flourishes in, the 50 or so years of a marriage.
Speaking frankly, this means a person doesn't have to find a mate using the distinctly non-diplomatic checklist evolution provides us. Women who don't have the perfect child-bearing bodies (cough...Hollywood starlets) and men who have amazing personalities but slightly asymmetrical features are just as worthy of partnership now as those natural selection would have chosen on our behalf eons ago.
But one man having more than one wife at a time in the present day is a startling perversion of a once necessary tradition. Men who support and practice polygamy today are selfish, amoral and abhorrent if not completely brainwashed (as are the willing women who marry them).
In conclusion, I'd like to take a moment and mention how absolutely IDIOTIC it is for a family getting paid to be on a reality television show to sue a state over a privacy issue. TLC's Sister Wives chronicles a Utah man and his four wives (one legal and three "spiritual") and their brood of children. And they just want everyone to leave them alone. Hang on while I play my tiny violin.
God, how I'd like to go over his taxes. I bet he's fudging something.
Anyway, I draw parallels between agreeing to a reality show and going to prison...in doing so, you keep your basic rights but give up some others. Like the right to privacy and the right not to be made fun of on a late-night talk show. Or on a blog.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
BAD RAP Blog
In case you didn't know, the BAD RAP Blog is about the pit bulls rescued from Michael Vick's dogfighting operation. The contributers chronicle the dogs' recovery and adoption as well as general news on dogfighting and animal welfare.
The just recently had a very moving post about a California summer camp who incorporated the children's book Saving Audie into their activities. After reading the book, a 12-year-old girl wrote the following essay (copied verbatim) from the dog's point of view. It's one of the most moving pieces I've ever read:
Bang. Loud rambicios roudy yells of the tall gangely men and and some stalky staring down at me there faces hard looking me agressively in the eye I backed against the side of the pen and a surging sting quivering through my body as I was shunted forward a single word forming on my owners lips on who broke me one who beat me all feeling pulsing in my head the wall of sound behind me "fight".
He mouthed the dog opposite me head lolling in confusion but behined the bared teeth I saw a spark only for a split second it read a single word love. and behined the bared teeth I looked into the dogs sole it was there a kind loving other being. A dark shadow crossed his face a hurt tortured look. And the fight began. I closed my eyes.
I woke up some time later how much time had passed I didn't know it could be weeks or months or years. But the pain was behined me of the fight. But it was still with me it had formed me in the deepest part of my broken heart. A worker dressed in a uniform passed by shooting me a sorrow filled glance and I flashed back in my mind to that terrible place.
Pressing myself against the cinder block wall crumpling in a corner. I wanted to float away like a balloon drifting further and further awy from this place of misery and hurt. Then suddenly a heavy metal door opened and soft warm loving eyes met mine she didn't look at me like I was a monster or a terror and she opened her hands in a frindly gesture and suddenly the cinder block wall felt cold so on shaking quivering legs I got up and walked toward a new life.
Here's hoping some teacher or other adult is helping that girl in her writing...so that the insight and the talent she's shown here won't be wasted in the future.
The just recently had a very moving post about a California summer camp who incorporated the children's book Saving Audie into their activities. After reading the book, a 12-year-old girl wrote the following essay (copied verbatim) from the dog's point of view. It's one of the most moving pieces I've ever read:
Bang. Loud rambicios roudy yells of the tall gangely men and and some stalky staring down at me there faces hard looking me agressively in the eye I backed against the side of the pen and a surging sting quivering through my body as I was shunted forward a single word forming on my owners lips on who broke me one who beat me all feeling pulsing in my head the wall of sound behind me "fight".
He mouthed the dog opposite me head lolling in confusion but behined the bared teeth I saw a spark only for a split second it read a single word love. and behined the bared teeth I looked into the dogs sole it was there a kind loving other being. A dark shadow crossed his face a hurt tortured look. And the fight began. I closed my eyes.
I woke up some time later how much time had passed I didn't know it could be weeks or months or years. But the pain was behined me of the fight. But it was still with me it had formed me in the deepest part of my broken heart. A worker dressed in a uniform passed by shooting me a sorrow filled glance and I flashed back in my mind to that terrible place.
Pressing myself against the cinder block wall crumpling in a corner. I wanted to float away like a balloon drifting further and further awy from this place of misery and hurt. Then suddenly a heavy metal door opened and soft warm loving eyes met mine she didn't look at me like I was a monster or a terror and she opened her hands in a frindly gesture and suddenly the cinder block wall felt cold so on shaking quivering legs I got up and walked toward a new life.
Here's hoping some teacher or other adult is helping that girl in her writing...so that the insight and the talent she's shown here won't be wasted in the future.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
In-Law Visit
My Husband and I just got home from a few days visiting his family in Chicago, Illinois. His sister India and her husband Stuart live there with their daughter Lena (she just turned 2 years old). So My Husband's parents and his oldest brother Holden drove in from Pennsylvania to meet us there.
It was...an experience, as all these visits tend to be. Luckily for me I seem to be developing a sort of desensitization to their various antics. My Husband's family has no boundaries (no topic is taboo, no closed door means privacy) and they are all, in general, very nice but angry people who would benefit immensely from therapy.
My Husband's mother is a tough woman who grew up in the Philadelphia projects with her single mother and two siblings. Her father's abandonment left her with some serious scars that her marriage made worse.
My mother-in-law met and got pregnant by My Husband's father when she just barely 20. My father-in-laws family, very traditional and more on the moneyed side, didn't approve of the match at all. But all parties were Catholic and marriage was the only option.
My father-in-law is an alcoholic. He's good-natured but incredibly selfish and was unfaithful to my mother-in-law during spats in their marriage (something I've never told anyone). She became very insular and focused on her five children, glossing over their mistakes and trumpeting their successes.
Holden is angry and an alcoholic like his father. He's handsome and charming but incredibly disappointed that his life did not turn out how he planned it (marriage and children) and is consistently jealous of My Husband and insecure about his place in the universe.
India has a judgemental streak a mile wide; which is slightly ridiculous since her family hated Stuart and are still disappointed their relationship is successful. She was convinced I was not good enough for My Husband and, quite frankly, never let me forget it for their first three years we were dating. Marriage and motherhood has mellowed her out, but she's still desperate for reinforcement that she's raising her child properly.
Middle brother Dorian and youngest Charles were not there, so I'll save their paragraphs for another time.
Anyway, the only real hitches in the weekend were the fact that India is pregnant again...a sore spot for me, since we're trying and have been so far unsuccessful. My visit to my grandmother's grave (my father was raised in Chicago) was spoiled by everyone's insistence on accompanying me...nothing like trying to have a moment with your dead grandma while hosting some kind of macabre field trip.
Holden spent a good part of the next day pissed at me...India and Stuart invited their aunt & uncle (my father-in-law's brother) who live just outside the city, to dinner. India and her parents took Lena to gymnastics and the boys were out drinking, leaving me alone in the house to prepare for guests. The boys (Holden, Stuart and My Husband) were TWO HOURS late, leaving me alone with the aunt & uncle for about an hour in a house that wasn't mine and was devoid of most supplies necessary for entertaining.
I called My Husband to see were they were and let him know I was put out about the situation...I guess he was upset enough to try and rush the guys home. Apparently Holden didn't appreciate my "demands," that their time together was cut short as well as the fact that I only set out two plates of hors d'oeurves. I overheard him complain to his mother that he and Stuart "set out everything" when they got home.
Oh, did I mention that Stuart had the list of antipasti India wanted out and where she wanted it? Damn, I've gotta get my mind-reading abilities in check.
He's just a pissy man and I pretty much hate him right now. In the past, similar feelings of disapproval about my behavior would have sent me into tears...I hate disappointing people...but I think I may be getting a little more used to their outrageous expectations and can deal with them more effectively. I'm trying to focus on the fact that no matter what I do, someone is going to be mad at me...had I set up the table perfectly Holden would have complained to his mother that I'm full of myself and think I can throw a better party than them.
But just the idea that every single family visit is going to have some kind of instance like this makes me...exhausted.
It was...an experience, as all these visits tend to be. Luckily for me I seem to be developing a sort of desensitization to their various antics. My Husband's family has no boundaries (no topic is taboo, no closed door means privacy) and they are all, in general, very nice but angry people who would benefit immensely from therapy.
My Husband's mother is a tough woman who grew up in the Philadelphia projects with her single mother and two siblings. Her father's abandonment left her with some serious scars that her marriage made worse.
My mother-in-law met and got pregnant by My Husband's father when she just barely 20. My father-in-laws family, very traditional and more on the moneyed side, didn't approve of the match at all. But all parties were Catholic and marriage was the only option.
My father-in-law is an alcoholic. He's good-natured but incredibly selfish and was unfaithful to my mother-in-law during spats in their marriage (something I've never told anyone). She became very insular and focused on her five children, glossing over their mistakes and trumpeting their successes.
Holden is angry and an alcoholic like his father. He's handsome and charming but incredibly disappointed that his life did not turn out how he planned it (marriage and children) and is consistently jealous of My Husband and insecure about his place in the universe.
India has a judgemental streak a mile wide; which is slightly ridiculous since her family hated Stuart and are still disappointed their relationship is successful. She was convinced I was not good enough for My Husband and, quite frankly, never let me forget it for their first three years we were dating. Marriage and motherhood has mellowed her out, but she's still desperate for reinforcement that she's raising her child properly.
Middle brother Dorian and youngest Charles were not there, so I'll save their paragraphs for another time.
Anyway, the only real hitches in the weekend were the fact that India is pregnant again...a sore spot for me, since we're trying and have been so far unsuccessful. My visit to my grandmother's grave (my father was raised in Chicago) was spoiled by everyone's insistence on accompanying me...nothing like trying to have a moment with your dead grandma while hosting some kind of macabre field trip.
Holden spent a good part of the next day pissed at me...India and Stuart invited their aunt & uncle (my father-in-law's brother) who live just outside the city, to dinner. India and her parents took Lena to gymnastics and the boys were out drinking, leaving me alone in the house to prepare for guests. The boys (Holden, Stuart and My Husband) were TWO HOURS late, leaving me alone with the aunt & uncle for about an hour in a house that wasn't mine and was devoid of most supplies necessary for entertaining.
I called My Husband to see were they were and let him know I was put out about the situation...I guess he was upset enough to try and rush the guys home. Apparently Holden didn't appreciate my "demands," that their time together was cut short as well as the fact that I only set out two plates of hors d'oeurves. I overheard him complain to his mother that he and Stuart "set out everything" when they got home.
Oh, did I mention that Stuart had the list of antipasti India wanted out and where she wanted it? Damn, I've gotta get my mind-reading abilities in check.
He's just a pissy man and I pretty much hate him right now. In the past, similar feelings of disapproval about my behavior would have sent me into tears...I hate disappointing people...but I think I may be getting a little more used to their outrageous expectations and can deal with them more effectively. I'm trying to focus on the fact that no matter what I do, someone is going to be mad at me...had I set up the table perfectly Holden would have complained to his mother that I'm full of myself and think I can throw a better party than them.
But just the idea that every single family visit is going to have some kind of instance like this makes me...exhausted.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Random Rumor: California's State Flag
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| http://www.wikipedia.org/ |
When American settlers rebelled against ruling Mexico and declared California an independent republic, they wanted to display a distinctly Californian new flag over Sonoma Plaza. Based on the future state's agricultural prowess, the men chose a pear to be the central figure on the flag.
Hastily composing a note with those instructions, the men sent the banner and more cloth materials to a nearby artist asking him to paint the pear in the center of the flag. The artist (a nephew of Mary Todd Lincoln) misread the scrawled note and painted a bear instead.
The men hung the flag anyway, intending to change it as soon as possible. This never happened, because the independent California was shortly captured by American troops and declared part of the United States.
The state adopted a new version of this first flag in 1911 to honor that short-lived republic.
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| http://www.snopes.com/ |
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
My Empathy
"A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born." French aviator and author Antoine de Saint Exupéry
And now this.
I was in seventh grade in March of 1998 when Mitchell Johnson and Andrew Golden shot 15 people at Westside Middle School near Jonesboro, Arkansas. Four students and a teacher died.
I was just about to enter high school in the spring of 1999 when Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold killed 12 students and one teacher and shot another 21 people at Columbine High School in Jefferson County, Colorado.
I was a senior in college when Seng-Hui Cho systematically murdered 32 people at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia.
I was married to a deployed soldier and spending a lot of time on an Army Base in November 2009 when Nidal Hassan shot and killed 13 people and wounded 29 others at Fort Hood in Texas.
And now this.
Even though I've never been to Norway and I'm not a teenager at summer camp, I can't help but feel, the way I've felt for these other victims, for the people of a country whose peace has been shattered in such a senseless and cruel manner. It's the kind of terrifying event that brings all those other memories that have been hovering, blurry, on the edges of my mind back in sharp focus.
I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I guess I’m in a dark and twisty mood. I suppose I just want to impress upon the world how much my generation has violence embedded into our collective memories. I grew up this way…with metal detectors and early-warning systems and shooting spree safety protocol. Like the old adage “duck and cover” from the Cold War but somehow much more sinister, we spent afternoons in high school practicing covering the window in the classroom door and locking it, shutting off the lights and building a sturdy barricade of chairs and desks to shield us from bullets.
I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I guess I’m in a dark and twisty mood. I suppose I just want to impress upon the world how much my generation has violence embedded into our collective memories. I grew up this way…with metal detectors and early-warning systems and shooting spree safety protocol. Like the old adage “duck and cover” from the Cold War but somehow much more sinister, we spent afternoons in high school practicing covering the window in the classroom door and locking it, shutting off the lights and building a sturdy barricade of chairs and desks to shield us from bullets.
Do our parents understand what that’s like? Going to school every day knowing it’s possible someone among your peers wants you to bleed to death on chipped tile?
Is it dramatic for me to say I felt the pain of these children, these young men and women, from hundreds or even thousands of miles away? I did. I wept and I forgot to eat and I couldn’t sleep for the nightmares of running feet and endless hallways and screaming pleas that haunted me. It hurt so badly. The anguish of strangers who lived just like I did broke something inside me...each and every time.
This kind of human connection is a powerful and bewildering thing. Is it an evolutionary trait designed to promote survival of the species? Is it a gift from a Higher Power to ease the pain of loneliness in an ever-expanding universe? Is it the result of individual brain chemistry and should be considered merely a personality quirk? Is it all of those things or something we have yet to define?
I have no answers.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Walt Disney World
My Husband and I took advantage of his two week leave by spending a postponed honeymoon in Disney World®, Florida. We got married in July 2009 and headed right for the army base...he was deployed a few weeks later. So now, after two years of marriage we spent almost a week in the Happiest Place on Earth.
Disney World® is my happy place. My family is a Disney family...no Nickelodeon or Japanese cartoons for us. My childhood was brimming with bits of Mickey Mouse...celebrating "unbirthdays" (Alice in Wonderland), Grandma handing out treats from Mary Poppins' carpet bag, singing Zip-a-dee-doo-da (Song of the South). We've been lucky enough to head to Florida at least 10 times. My Husband, though, had never been.
Doc (my therapist) told me not to get my hopes up that My Husband would fall in love with Disney World® the way I have, as it's not everyone's spinning cup of tea. But he seemed to really have fun...he enjoyed the rides, the food and was patient with me as I went over every instant of our day after heading back to the hotel. Of course I had everything planned out...from the transportation to/from the airport to dinner reservations every night. Frankly I'm pleased to know I can plan a successful Disney vacation.
My Husband will probably never love it more than he loves the Shore, but I think I made a nice dent in his perception of it.
My sisters were here in the Midwest taking care of Buoy while we were gone. From what I gleaned from Chloë (who is the queen of personal secrets), she is planning a wedding with her longtime boyfriend John. They've already discussed using my grandmother's 50th wedding anniversary solitaire diamond necklace (willed to Chloë on my grandmother's death) as the diamond for their engagement ring.
This is very good news...John is slightly ADD and has a pretty erratic emotional temperament, and getting him to sit down and plan a wedding must be a nightmare. He loves Chloë and wants to marry her, but he's the kind of no-details person who'd wake up one morning and say, "Let's get hitched," without a thought as to how much planning has to go into a ceremony and reception.
My job as future maid (matron, actually) of honor (Sarah was mine, I'll be Chloë's and Chloë will be Sarah's) is to make this as painless as possible for all involved and to run herd on John's future sister-in-law. John has a twin brother, Joe, who's engaged to one of Chloë's best friends from high school, Suellen. Suellen is petty, passive-aggressive and HATES when someone else is the center of attention, and as Chloë is decent and can't find a way to keep her out of her wedding party without hurting her feelings I'm gonna handle all her nonsense. And there will be nonsense. Luckily for me, I've been in the center of girl-world all my life and no one can manipulate a woman with the attitude of a high school snob like I can.
Disney World® is my happy place. My family is a Disney family...no Nickelodeon or Japanese cartoons for us. My childhood was brimming with bits of Mickey Mouse...celebrating "unbirthdays" (Alice in Wonderland), Grandma handing out treats from Mary Poppins' carpet bag, singing Zip-a-dee-doo-da (Song of the South). We've been lucky enough to head to Florida at least 10 times. My Husband, though, had never been.
Doc (my therapist) told me not to get my hopes up that My Husband would fall in love with Disney World® the way I have, as it's not everyone's spinning cup of tea. But he seemed to really have fun...he enjoyed the rides, the food and was patient with me as I went over every instant of our day after heading back to the hotel. Of course I had everything planned out...from the transportation to/from the airport to dinner reservations every night. Frankly I'm pleased to know I can plan a successful Disney vacation.
My Husband will probably never love it more than he loves the Shore, but I think I made a nice dent in his perception of it.
My sisters were here in the Midwest taking care of Buoy while we were gone. From what I gleaned from Chloë (who is the queen of personal secrets), she is planning a wedding with her longtime boyfriend John. They've already discussed using my grandmother's 50th wedding anniversary solitaire diamond necklace (willed to Chloë on my grandmother's death) as the diamond for their engagement ring.
This is very good news...John is slightly ADD and has a pretty erratic emotional temperament, and getting him to sit down and plan a wedding must be a nightmare. He loves Chloë and wants to marry her, but he's the kind of no-details person who'd wake up one morning and say, "Let's get hitched," without a thought as to how much planning has to go into a ceremony and reception.
My job as future maid (matron, actually) of honor (Sarah was mine, I'll be Chloë's and Chloë will be Sarah's) is to make this as painless as possible for all involved and to run herd on John's future sister-in-law. John has a twin brother, Joe, who's engaged to one of Chloë's best friends from high school, Suellen. Suellen is petty, passive-aggressive and HATES when someone else is the center of attention, and as Chloë is decent and can't find a way to keep her out of her wedding party without hurting her feelings I'm gonna handle all her nonsense. And there will be nonsense. Luckily for me, I've been in the center of girl-world all my life and no one can manipulate a woman with the attitude of a high school snob like I can.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Modern Communication
I'm blogging and on hold with Cox Cable at the same time. Multitasking, thy name is Lark.
I'm on the phone because my second foray into OnlineTechSupport Chat was futile just as the first was, although much less rude. The woman on the other end reset my whole cable box, but to no avail. The INPUT button still doesn't work, and now the ON DEMAND button has stopped working, too. Really all I want from this conversation is a repair guy to come here and give me a new remote. I've been on 10 minutes so far, let's see how this goes.
Anyway, since we're talking about communication...
Remember that wedding My Husband and I went to, the one with his best friend from college? And his dad has cancer and his brother spewed his personal hatred of the bride all over me pre-ceremony? According to Facebook, they're (the bride and groom, not the dad or the brother) pregnant.
When did it become OK to announce major events...IE engagements, pregnancies, etc...over the Internet without first attempting to call all your friends? When My Husband proposed, I called all my closest friends, my sisters and my parents. All the engagements that have happened since, I've gotten no phone calls. Not even from the girls I called personally. Not a fan.
And my poor Husband, this is the second time this has happened to him...where a close friend is having a baby and he finds out through Facebook. Not even a personal Facebook message, mind you...just a random announcement for all to see. Doesn't that cheapen the event a little, that you can't even pick up the damn phone? Or am I some kind of anti-Internet fuddy duddy?
Does it reiterate the fuddy duddy idea if I've now been on hold for 20 minutes? I feel pretty geriatric about it.
Anyway, I was always under the impression Facebook and Twitter were supposed to accent one's life, not take it over. It's like the Internet has become everyone 'smouth instead of their eyes and ears to a larger world. We're all connected now...so why do I feel so cut off?
*In case you were wondering, I did get my tech support appointment (29 minutes and 42 seconds after beginning this post).
I'm on the phone because my second foray into OnlineTechSupport Chat was futile just as the first was, although much less rude. The woman on the other end reset my whole cable box, but to no avail. The INPUT button still doesn't work, and now the ON DEMAND button has stopped working, too. Really all I want from this conversation is a repair guy to come here and give me a new remote. I've been on 10 minutes so far, let's see how this goes.
Anyway, since we're talking about communication...
Remember that wedding My Husband and I went to, the one with his best friend from college? And his dad has cancer and his brother spewed his personal hatred of the bride all over me pre-ceremony? According to Facebook, they're (the bride and groom, not the dad or the brother) pregnant.
When did it become OK to announce major events...IE engagements, pregnancies, etc...over the Internet without first attempting to call all your friends? When My Husband proposed, I called all my closest friends, my sisters and my parents. All the engagements that have happened since, I've gotten no phone calls. Not even from the girls I called personally. Not a fan.
And my poor Husband, this is the second time this has happened to him...where a close friend is having a baby and he finds out through Facebook. Not even a personal Facebook message, mind you...just a random announcement for all to see. Doesn't that cheapen the event a little, that you can't even pick up the damn phone? Or am I some kind of anti-Internet fuddy duddy?
Does it reiterate the fuddy duddy idea if I've now been on hold for 20 minutes? I feel pretty geriatric about it.
Anyway, I was always under the impression Facebook and Twitter were supposed to accent one's life, not take it over. It's like the Internet has become everyone 'smouth instead of their eyes and ears to a larger world. We're all connected now...so why do I feel so cut off?
*In case you were wondering, I did get my tech support appointment (29 minutes and 42 seconds after beginning this post).
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Casey Anthony Case
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| Defense team smothers Casey with hugs after the NOT GUILTY verdict From www.dailymail.co.uk |
First of all, I am PISSED that her parents were obviously in on the "my father and brother molested me so I keep all my pain buried deep inside" defense. Why else would they not fucking disown their daughter for saying such a horrible thing? How else could Cindy Anthony sit there and accept the accusations that make her husband a pedophile? Plus, the defense team actually suggested the reason no father was listed on little Caylee's birth certificate is because George Anthony or his son Lee could have fathered her!
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| Speaking of inappropriate behavior: here's defense lawyer George Mason flipping off paparazzi at the post-verdict party. Also from www.dailymail.co.uk |
Second of all, her behavior post "accidental" death of her only child is pretty much proof of some kind of guilt. Getting wasted with friends, stealing checks from them and spending their money, entering "hot body" contests at bars, getting "Bella Vita" tatooed on her shoulder? That doesn't say "I'm devasted," that says, "Finally, I'm free."
Third of all, I'm in absolute dread of whatever reality show, dating show, tell-all tome or porn she's going to end up in. There's a rule about not profiting for your crimes, but it doesn't apply when you're acquitted. Ask Mr. O.J. Simpson.
However, the jury really can't be faulted for their decision. Prosecutors have to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, and even with the cartoon characters that are the Anthonys and the defense team they obviously didn't. It's a crappy situation, but hopefully the jury won't face too much static for actually following the letter of the law.
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| Coming soon to a crappy TV channel or bookstore near you! |
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Vent Central
I'm taking a little time for myself to vent about some recent technological issues.
First: Cox Communications
The only reason we signed up for Cox Cable is because there were no other cable providers servicing our area. We had to. AT&T is starting to get its tentacles in around here, but unless you want satellite (yeah right...I can see our dish flying away in the latest windstorm now...) Cox is your only option.
We have phone, Internet and special HD service (since they stopped offering HD with their basic cable package and demanded you upgrade in order to keep it last year). For some reason, our universal remote does everything except change the INPUT setting on the TV. So in order to switch the Source Setting (Video for DVD, Component 1 for the Wii, etc.) you have to press the INPUT button on the television. The input button DOES work on the old Insignia remote, which I'm glad now I didn't toss.
Anyway, I contacted Cox's Live Agent Chat to deal with the problem. Some guy named Leo came on after about 10 minutes and after I explained my issue, told me to reset the setup codes for both the TV and the Cable Box. When I couldn't find the setup code for the cable box he sent me four links to the Cox website to "help" me locate it. Then, before I could type that I'd found the right code and I was still having a problem, he sent me some kind of standard "Thanks for choosing Cox" bullshit and logged off the session!
I think that is the equivalent to a telephone operator hanging up on me mid sentence, and I told Cox so on the email I sent immediately afterward. What the Hell? The only reasons I used the Stupid Live Chat are 1) I'm decently computer-savvy and I'd rather save the telephone help for people who need it and 2) The issue seems relatively simple and not worth wasting some poor repairman's time to fix.
And of course I feel incredibly stupid because I can't get a lousy button on my remote to work.
Second: Verizon Wireless
Besides that, Verizon ended its $29.99 per month unlimited data plan. Now, I've been seriously considering signing up for that since I'd love to be able to check my email from my phone like everyone else does, but spending $1 per day for 2GB of data with a $1 per GB overcharge after that is ridiculous!
My Husband and I have been with Verizon for 7 years now and I'm slightly wary of breaking up with them. We're both due for a phone upgrade but there's like, no choice in handsets unless you get a data plan. And of course I'm the one who has to deal with all these issues since My Husband is 100% hands off when it comes to household details.
These are the times I want to say "Fuck it," go completely off the grid and do nothing but read books and raise alfalfa in the Montana wilderness.
First: Cox Communications
The only reason we signed up for Cox Cable is because there were no other cable providers servicing our area. We had to. AT&T is starting to get its tentacles in around here, but unless you want satellite (yeah right...I can see our dish flying away in the latest windstorm now...) Cox is your only option.
We have phone, Internet and special HD service (since they stopped offering HD with their basic cable package and demanded you upgrade in order to keep it last year). For some reason, our universal remote does everything except change the INPUT setting on the TV. So in order to switch the Source Setting (Video for DVD, Component 1 for the Wii, etc.) you have to press the INPUT button on the television. The input button DOES work on the old Insignia remote, which I'm glad now I didn't toss.
Anyway, I contacted Cox's Live Agent Chat to deal with the problem. Some guy named Leo came on after about 10 minutes and after I explained my issue, told me to reset the setup codes for both the TV and the Cable Box. When I couldn't find the setup code for the cable box he sent me four links to the Cox website to "help" me locate it. Then, before I could type that I'd found the right code and I was still having a problem, he sent me some kind of standard "Thanks for choosing Cox" bullshit and logged off the session!
I think that is the equivalent to a telephone operator hanging up on me mid sentence, and I told Cox so on the email I sent immediately afterward. What the Hell? The only reasons I used the Stupid Live Chat are 1) I'm decently computer-savvy and I'd rather save the telephone help for people who need it and 2) The issue seems relatively simple and not worth wasting some poor repairman's time to fix.
And of course I feel incredibly stupid because I can't get a lousy button on my remote to work.
Second: Verizon Wireless
Besides that, Verizon ended its $29.99 per month unlimited data plan. Now, I've been seriously considering signing up for that since I'd love to be able to check my email from my phone like everyone else does, but spending $1 per day for 2GB of data with a $1 per GB overcharge after that is ridiculous!
My Husband and I have been with Verizon for 7 years now and I'm slightly wary of breaking up with them. We're both due for a phone upgrade but there's like, no choice in handsets unless you get a data plan. And of course I'm the one who has to deal with all these issues since My Husband is 100% hands off when it comes to household details.
These are the times I want to say "Fuck it," go completely off the grid and do nothing but read books and raise alfalfa in the Montana wilderness.
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