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:

• 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.

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.

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.

Good Old Fashioned Family Racism

Courtesy of the UN Alliance of Civilizations

Racism (making a generalization, often a negative one, about a single person or group of people based on the color of their skin) is a present-day Greek monster.  It's like some kind of mysterious beast living in a rock crevice or the center of a whirlpool, snapping up human beings as they pass.  A many-headed beast who grows two more snapping, toothy skulls for every one an intrepid hero lops off.

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.

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):

• 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

Just when you think the old timer golden retriever didn't make it in this live-action Walt Disney flick, he comes limping up a hill and runs to his crying boy.  A must-see for dog lovers everywhere.

• RAQUEL WELCH SPILLS HER SECRET from The Shawshank Redemption, 1994

Iconic photography, atmospheric music and stellar acting...there is nothing like seeing Warden Norton's face when he realizes Andy Dufresne has tunnelled his way to freedom.  Photo courtesy of totalfilm.com

• THE GRINCH'S HEART GROWS from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, 1966 

What a heart-warming testament to the redemptive power of music and love!

• REUNION IN THE REFLECTING POOL from Forrest Gump, 1994

As the wife of a soldier, I have a soft spot for emotional reunions.  And there's thousands of people applauding as Forrest and Jenny embrace in front of the Washington Monument.  Spectacular.  Photo courtesy of Max Sees Movies Blog

• "I WILL FIND YOU!" UNDER THE WATERFALL from The Last of the Mohicans, 1992

Speaking of romance, there's really nothing like a soaking wet hero pledging his everlasting love for you while the scents of gunpowder and danger fill your nostrils.  Daniel Day-Lewis has been a pillar of the acting community for decades and damn does he deserve it.

• THE FIRST TIME THEY SEE THE DINOSAURS from Jurassic Park, 1993

The music is epic.  The story is fantastic.  And when you stop to think about the fact that these actors aren't actually looking at...well, anything...the scene becomes that much more impressive.  Photo courtesy of blogger Amy Wong

• CINDERELLA SPINS INTO HER BALLGOWN from Walt Disney's Cinderella, 1950

Who doesn't want to take a slow-motion spin in a moonlit garden and have a bunch of sparkles turn you into the belle of the ball?

• JANE RUSSELL AS MARILYN MONROE from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, 1953

A very funny movie that's well worth the Netflix...especially the scene toward the end where Jane Russell's character Dorothy impersonates Marilyn Monroe's character Lorelei in a French courtroom: platinum blonde curls, husky whisper and all.  Photo courtesy of the Film Experience Blog

• SIDNEY POITIER TELLS IT LIKE IT IS from Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, 1967

As my generation struggles to live with the choices and rectify the mistakes of the "Baby Boomers," John Prentice's speech to his father captures a feeling of repression, passion and restrained power I could never hope to articulate.  "You and your whole lousy generation believes the way it was for you is the way it's got to be!" he rages.  Undoubtedly one of a great actor's greatest scenes.  Photo courtesy of movieactors.com

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/

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.

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.

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.