Evidence to the Contrary

A Lesson in History

2007-04-04T10:11:00.000-04:00

On the way to work this morning I listened to excerpts of Beyond Vietnam -- A Time to Break Silence
a speech by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. made a year before his assassination. I'm not usually moved so easily, but the words were spoken for Vietnam however it made me grieve for the horrid war in Iraq. The parallel conundrums are astounding. Mr. Bush was obviously not a student of history nor a vigilant in the current events of the 60's and 70's. I'd like to think his deficit in judgment is a result of ignorance, but I'm afraid it is simple stupidity. Go ahead, read what a real leader thinks:

"...I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today -- my own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of the hundreds of thousands trembling under our violence, I cannot be silent.

For those who ask the question, "Aren't you a civil rights leader?" and thereby mean to exclude me from the movement for peace, I have this further answer. In 1957 when a group of us formed the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, we chose as our motto: "To save the soul of America." We were convinced that we could not limit our vision to certain rights for black people, but instead affirmed the conviction that America would never be free or saved from itself until the descendants of its slaves were loosed completely from the shackles they still wear. In a way we were agreeing with Langston Hughes, that black bard of Harlem, who had written earlier:

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath --
America will be!

Now, it should be incandescently clear that no one who has any concern for the integrity and life of America today can ignore the present war. If America's soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy must read: Vietnam. It can never be saved so long as it destroys the deepest hopes of men the world over. So it is that those of us who are yet determined that America will be are led down the path of protest and dissent, working for the health of our land.

As if the weight of such a commitment to the life and health of America were not enough, another burden of responsibility was placed upon me in 1954** [sic]; and I cannot forget that the Nobel Prize for Peace was also a commission -- a commission to work harder than I had ever worked before for "the brotherhood of man." This is a calling that takes me beyond national allegiances, but even if it were not present I would yet have to live with the meaning of my commitment to the ministry of Jesus Christ. To me the relationship of this ministry to the making of peace is so obvious that I sometimes marvel at those who ask me why I'm speaking against the war. Could it be that they do not know that the good news was meant for all men -- for Communist and capitalist, for their children and ours, for black and for white, for revolutionary and conservative? Have they forgotten that my ministry is in obedience to the One who loved his enemies so fully that he died for them? What then can I say to the Vietcong or to Castro or to Mao as a faithful minister of this One? Can I threaten them with death or must I not share with them my life?

... This I believe to be the privilege and the burden of all of us who deem ourselves bound by allegiances and loyalties which are broader and deeper than nationalism and which go beyond our nation's self-defined goals and positions. We are called to speak for the weak, for the voiceless, for the victims of our nation and for those it calls "enemy," for no document from human hands can make these humans any less our brothers.

And as I ponder the madness of Vietnam and search within myself for ways to understand and respond in compassion, my mind goes constantly to the people of that peninsula. I speak now not of the soldiers of each side, not of the ideologies of the Liberation Front, not of the junta in Saigon, but simply of the people who have been living under the curse of war for almost three continuous decades now. I think of them, too, because it is clear to me that there will be no meaningful solution there until some attempt is made to know them and hear their broken cries..."

Realizations

2007-02-26T17:51:00.000-05:00

I look back on the previous posts and in my journal and wonder how this came so quickly. I question my disdain for J. Could it be real? Could I be so disgusted that I am actually repulsed? It was only a month ago that I thought I could salvage something, but then I remember the obvious, that it is over - it has been over for a long time. I knew that.
What scares me is the fact that I don't feel the love for him that would keep me attached. I had the foresight to know things fell apart, but I never expected to actually feel a different type of love for him. I care for the nostalgia we have together but the present is a feeling of sadness and weight.
I realize how much he was bringing me down. I realize that I am actually attracted to other men. I realize that I can be happy without him. I realize that I am happier without him.
I realize that though I never thought I could find someone that treated me as well as J did - I was wrong.

Moving From Under The Power Lines

2007-02-17T17:22:00.000-05:00

There isn't much left anymore. Whatever valuables I left were stolen or traded. Whatever love I left didn't follow me. It is amazing how quickly we lost what we built over six years. It isn't all gone. We still have places to sit, blankets to curl up with, and one little tv to watch the news. I have left, though. Figuritively and literally.
I am changing so quickly. I feel invinsible at times - even prosperous. That is, until I am enticed into the crackerbox house and his world of insanity. I can't help but fall for my own trap, over and over again. I seem to think that I can save him if I'm a friend. However, he remains toxic. When he is messed up, I hate both of us.
I could not help but want to move on quickly ... to create a different life - to move from the toxicity to a life full of worth. I have finally been emancipated, now I am figuring out where I go from here.

Sunrise, Sunrise

2007-02-14T08:01:00.000-05:00

This is what I saw when I first woke up this morning ... looks like something out of an Andrew Wyeth painting.

My Blog layout

2007-02-14T07:50:00.000-05:00

I'm having a little issue with my blog header ... I'd really like the old one back, but I messed up the picture size on photobucket and can't figure out why it isn't being restored.
So, this is what it is for now. I'm still trying to figure out how to put my blog roll back on and just what the hell widgets are.

Heroine's of Our Day

2007-02-14T07:23:00.000-05:00

“One of the things that I think characterizes my generation — that characterizes me, anyway, and others of my generation — is that I’ve always been surprised by how my life turned out,” Dr. Faust said in an interview Sunday at Loeb House just after the university announced that she would become its 28th president, effective July 1. “I’ve always done more than I ever thought I would. Becoming a professor — I never would have imagined that. Writing books — I never would have imagined that. Getting a Ph.D. — I’m not sure I would even have imagined that. I’ve lived my life a step at a time. Things sort of happened.”

Drew Gilpin Faust was just appointed Harvard president, the first woman president. Being raised by a feminist and along with my interest in gender studies I understood early about our androcentric society (though I must mention the recent shift in education).
After Lawrence Summer's comments it would seem to me that Harvard may be playing a catch up game, but that is my skepticism setting in and I would like to think this new role model has earned the job on merit alone.
I always imagined myself a career woman, having children late in life after I have a well established career and maybe having a husband - maybe not. Life didn't go that way, but now I'm seeing the possibilities in my life as a single woman. Though I may not necessarily agree with the politics of some of these women (Oh yeah, they're human too) such as Drew Gilpin Faust, Hillary Rodham Clinton, Madeline Albright, and Sandra Day O'Connor they are great examples of the result of the equal rights movements.
These publicly successful women are an inspiration to me and probably many other women. As a single woman I feel empowered to know how much things have changed for my sex. There is still improvement to be made, but the "first's" keep coming locally and globally (Nancy Pelosi, Michelle Bachelet).
It is amazing to me that now women are actually in the majority of college populations and yet there is still a glass ceiling, but improvement is being made and I can see my children living in a world with many female leaders.
Women and minorities must be represented in our government. If we will truly have a representative republic then shouldn't there be more women and minorities in congress? I'm not asking for affirmative action in congress ... I'm asking for people to be more accepting of candidates that aren't white and male.
Fight the man ... Support our Women.

There was drunk dialing, now there is drunk blogging.

2007-02-04T02:24:00.000-05:00

I am not drunk. I am tipsy. I had a few rum and cokes and danced my ass off tonight. I called J earlier in the evening to discuss the further divorce situation which resulted in a sudden feeling of hopelessness and despair. M was my savior and encouraged me to take another friend, K., up on an invitation out to the bar. It was a fabulous time! Now it is 1:30 a.m. and I'm happy as a clam.
This ability to go out and dance my ass off (which if anyone knows me, knows that I love to dance - sober or not) and have a few drinks without any guilt rocks! I got all gussied up and went to the bar and laughed, screamed conversations over music, and I even indulged in the dreaded "girl posse to the bathroom" ordeal. Columbia has passed an ordinance where there is no smoking in public places, which sucks for smokers but rocks for nonsmokers - a.k.a. me.
I could get used to this freedom ... even if I don't care to go out often, this is another reason why this separation and divorce is a positive move. Rum makes divorce look like a cake walk.

January 27, 2007 ... Psych Ward

2007-02-03T14:26:00.000-05:00

Keep in mind this was the second day I was in the hospital ... welcome to my world of depression. A misfortunate disease. Rest assured, these feelings have nearly disappeared with medication and a whole lot of therapy this week.
Again with the marker (We couldn't have pens or pencils for the risk of hurting ourselves) but at least this one works. It is a sharpie no less (I was getting a little high after a while). I've tried calling "everyone" that has a local number but I think they're all at the 11:00 meeting getting together afterward. I fucking hate that I can't have my cell phone (The camera phones aren't allowed because of confidentiality reasons.)
I feel like my life is in shambles once again. I don't feel like I have the strength to pull myself up, of course, that is why I have everyone I love and everyone in Al-Anon. I so badly want to be independent. I don't know another person to leave their addict on their own. Mom left because she had us and Rick, Mi***** left because she had Al*****, everyone else I talk to did it for their children. Sometimes I wish I had kids so that I had a reason to survive, a reason to get better, but doing this for myself is rough. I'm not sure I love or feel worthy of myself enough to do this. I am separating from J because of my logic, not because I want to. It is the right thing to do for both of us. I miss him so much aright now. In the past I had him and more of a drive to move on because WE needed to move on. I love him more than I could ever express. I want it all to go away so badly and then that is when I start trying to numb out - I start believing suicide is the solution to my life's misery. The times of misery compared to real joy tip the scale. This is no way to live but I'm afraid removing J. will not be the answer. I still have to grow into all these choices I've made. I try to pray but the words feel empty. I try to visualize another stage of life better than this but all I see are clouds waiting to pour rain on it all. Why can't I move past my past? Why cant I accept it and move on? I am powerless and my life has become unmanageable.
As I read this I realize that I am not powerless over my actions, my life. Powerless over others actions, yes. S. told me she wished she'd never been born ... it is me that should have never been born. It is me that should quit. On quarter or more of my life has been frequent bouts of absolute hell. HELL. She is such a gem, such a blessing to this world, I am nothing but a burden on myself and everyone else. I know they'd be sad but they'd get over it and in the end their lives would be better without one less complication ...

Voluntary Admission ... Number 5

2007-01-31T15:30:00.000-05:00

I have spent the last 5 days in the psychiatric unit of Boone Hospital. I guess I didn't have it all under control like I thought. BIG surprise. More to come ... just an update. I have lots of journal entries that are going to be transferred to blog posts. Because really, who doesn't find that shit interesting. Okay, back to watching the snow fall and dreaming about my next dosage of klonipin.

Where are the Storm Clouds?

2007-01-25T20:00:00.000-05:00

It seemed so simple ... write a check, sign a paper ... walk away and let the process begin. I have been waiting for the thunder of remorse. I have not lost my conviction or clarity, but the unknown is a slow torture. I know that what I think I want is not what I will get, nor what I will need. I simply want a normal life, but normalcy is elusive and foreign.
I no longer know what I want. I have always known that I want J, but I'm not sure what I want from him or even if I should ask for his friendship in such a critical time. We both question whether this relationship is beyond repair. So, I sit in this bed and watch the evening pass away. I have made the decision to legally end my relationship and the rest is so fuzzy. Are we really going to stay true to our vows even after the legal marriage is dissolved? I'm afraid I have devised a plan to stay connected so that the eventual split will be a slow process so to delay the intensity which so often sends me to the place where I begin to plan my escape. I have made these choices. The choice to file for divorce. The choice to try to live on my own. The choice to move on. The choice to create a new life. The choice to reinvent myself. So, I must want to move on, but why is it tonight I stared at the orange bottle, spilling out the blue tablets, with tears caught in the lenses of my glasses wondering who would take Roxy and who would have to find me. Truly, how angry will M be? Won't she understand?
If one more person comments on my super human strength and resilience I am going to prove them wrong. What choice do I have? Really? I've tried taking my life so many times that I'm even a failure at that. But, I have made momentous changes. I separated and filed for divorce in the time span of two or three weeks and have yet to feel an ounce of remorse. I know this is right. I asked for clarity and I received it. I have goals and I know that I have a purpose in this life, but everyday is such a roller coaster that I'm not sure I can hold on at times.
From the choices I have made it seems I want to live. I want more from my life. It is funny ... an anomaly of sorts ... I acted in logic and thoughtfulness instead of emotion and trauma. The sudden shift makes me want to believe that there is something out there that cares. Maybe it is just my own evolution ... my own will power, but it rose so quickly, and I am so sure, I cannot believe that this is of my own doing ... it cannot be.
J and I met Tuesday and I can barely remember what I said. I knew I would fuck it up. His appearance was but a ghost of how I remember him. His hair was so short, his eyes sunken in so far, his shoulders so narrow. I tried to ease into the news, but before I knew it I slowly and softly spoke the words. He reacted just as I predicted - with restriction and the look he assumes when you know he is trying to wrestle whatever emotion is inside. It is always the emotion that I wonder ... is is joy? is it pain? is it hate? As the conversation progressed I explained my desire to stay within our vows, just live separate lives for a while until he can do the work he needs to do. As usual, this man and I were on the same page. He needs to disconnect from his mother and I. He needs to rebuild his life on his own without our help. That was one motivating factor for my initiation of the divorce ... maybe he would realize his need for maturity and take on his sobriety by himself. We left with hugs and a tender kiss on the lips and multiple "I love you" statements. Somehow, that didn't set me at ease. I am scared what he has thought the past couple of days.
My greatest fear is based in my selfish need for acceptance ... I do not want this to end at the blade of an axe. If it does end, I want it to end like a small leak - slow, but eventual.
I fantasize about the possibilities ... studying abroad. Meeting new people. Having a drink after work without the weight of guilt. When things were good with us they were great. An enviable relationship. His clothes are still in the closet. There are even a few dirty dishes in the sink from his short stay while I was on vacation (yes, I do the dishes that often).
Uncertainty can be the demise of a codependent ... yet it seems it is our life's mission to control it.

Mail Call

2007-01-22T20:12:00.000-05:00

Insert any name you think begins with an A and J, cause it makes me feel okay doing this when I think there is some sort of anonymity

A***********,

It must be hell living with me the past year. I've put you through more than almost anyone could handle. I'm so ashamed of myself and I'm terrified I'll never be able to make up for the wrong I've done or the pain I've caused. My apologies just don't mean much anymore - but I had to write and say something. I want our life back but I'm not even sure I know where to begin. We had such great dreams and hopes - such a bright future - and I've all but shattered them all. I was happy with our marriage with the direction we were headed but I still hated me. Everytime you tell me you love me my stomach drops and it hurts like hell because I'm reminded of how I just can't love myself and how you love me in spite of me. These 3 [6 total] years of our life together have been the best and the worst I've known. I've known great joy and great pain. I've become a monster - so different from the man you married. So I offer a humble apology - when I owe you so much more. I hope we can talk again. I love you

your Husband,
J.************

We haven't spoken in a week and the last time we spoke while he was sober was over two weeks ago. The treatment center will allow me to call him Thursday.
I have a 4:00 appointment with the lawyer tomorrow afternoon.

51% of Women Are Now Living Without A Spouse

2007-01-20T13:13:00.000-05:00

51% plus one, that is. Delayed gratification is a simple concept, yet a tedious and nearly impossible task. I have asked for clarity and I'm afraid that I have it now. My left hand has lost the white ring of flesh where my rings once rested. I sleep in the middle of the bed now. I lost the awareness of time when he usually calls me at work. There are so many things that have already slipped away.
I've developed enough tolerance to the sour words that I can speak them. It is in my own disappointment that everyone has responded with such relief. If just one person tried to convince me this is not what I should do, I would probably take back everything I said.
I suppose it is a post mark for adulthood with this decision. I am finally disconnecting myself from the deterministic hold that shackles my will.

I'm Everything But Sorry.

2007-01-18T23:37:00.000-05:00

Anyone that read this blog before has probably given up by now. I didn't drop off of the face of the earth, rather I fell into the vacuum I allowed my life to become. So much has happened, yet it is the same story over and over again.
In summary, things have changed. I became jaded. I became calloused. I lost perspective.
So, I made a geographical change to see M. I found a cheap ticket two weeks ago and last Friday I was driving to the airport. My mission was clear: get out of my skin - completely. No one can distract me quite like M. The partying was great. It has been years since I've been able to take a drink and not feel guilty. I was able to act a fool and not give a damn ... really I was a totally different person. Once in a while I would worry the other people we were partying with were getting a view of me that I would eventually despise, but when it came down to it I needed to feel something other than exhausted - their opinion didn't matter. I don't regret anything, in fact, I'm glad I was able to let go for once in my adult life and just have a good time.
No one knew my story. No one cared. Yet, one of the most important people in my life was there whenever I had some random obsessive thought ... and then she handed me a drink (just kidding ... sort of).
I woke to a call from my land lord on Tuesday morning. J left rehab and continued his streak of destruction. A couple of hours full of phone calls, sporadic crying, and the familiar feeling of sickness and then it was somewhat resolved and I let it all fall away. I didn't obsess or ruin the remaining time. Weird. For once, I felt the elusive creature that is loving detachment. I was compassionate when his cries filled the speaker of my phone, but I left the pain when I ended the call. So this is freedom. For once in my fucking life I felt like some one's drug use wasn't ruling the speed and velocity of my roller coaster. This roller coaster is about to change.

The First Twenty-Four Hours

2006-11-16T22:28:00.000-05:00

He said he needed to go to another meeting. I try so damn hard to be optimistic regardless of my conditioned state of skepticism. I say to myself, "yeah, sure he goes more than half an hour early. Doesn't he? Hmmm, when was the last time he did that. I can't recall." The hour and a half went by and then another 15 minutes. That familiar feeling of being a slave to the need for control kicked me in the stomach. I called. Twice. "I'll be there in five minutes." I restrained the racing thoughts that questioned his honesty. Fifteen more minutes went by. I picked up the phone two more times until I allowed the phone to send the call. No answer. Again, I send the call. No answer. Again. No answer. This is the process of confirmation we go through. I call over and over until I'm satisfied that he will not answer until he runs out of money.
I am crushed, but I do not cry anymore. There is really no relief, in fact, it weakens my fortitude. I cry when I think that I need to cry - especially if it has been a while.
It is after midnight. I just wrote a blog entry to simply fill in the day, but it was 5 minutes too late to get in for November 15. My home is cold and I simply do not want to wash my face and take my meds before I lay down. I don't really want to sleep.
I am standing in the cramped bathroom staring at my face while I grab the Lamictal out of the cabinet. My eyes are glossy and red. My face has bright blemishes on my right cheek. My hair is a mess. I hear the key slip into the lock. I stand perfectly still and hold my breath. I want so badly to scream and curse; to threaten and belittle; to manipulate and destroy. I turn to see his small face with pupils nearly covering every bit of green in his eyes. My first words comment on the obviousness of his state of inebriation. Then, the next usual question. "How much did you spend." He only had $40, so it shortened his evening.
His odor surrounds him - cheap liquor and sweat. I try to ignore him - to act as though it is really not a big deal. It is though. It is always a big deal. Then I feel pity. I have lived this before and I have seen this need for destruction. If only he could see the person I see in him. How sharp, charming, and deeply considerate he is. How, when people meet him, they instantly know he has a soft heart and a whip for a mind.
I sit with him for hours. I fall into the need for passive aggressive relief. He faces it stoically - feeling he deserves much more than I throw at him. A few minutes later I feel guilty ... it is much like scolding a child after they admit defeat and give a genuine apology. It is needless and simply an inappropriate way to displace anger.
I will not sleep. I peak out the blinds and watch him smoke cigarettes on our front porch. His breath and exhalations of smoke create a cloud in front of his face. The symbolism is frightening.
I turn to see the green light illuminating the side of the bed; it is after 2 a.m. I drift to sleep, but wake periodically to feel his back next to mine. Good. He is still here.
I cannot wake up. Instead, I throw on my college sweatshirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and a worn Adidas ball cap. Not exactly business casual. I am exhausted and want everyone to know it. I dressed this way on purpose - let them know that I am in pain. I snap at my boss and I can see the frustration wash over her face. My uncle spies at me from across the room - he knows something is terribly wrong.
She asks what is wrong. "He fell off the wagon again." She replies in almost an angry tone, commenting shortly then muzzling herself and turning her focus back to the paperwork in front of her.
They both leave for a regional meeting. I call my mom and cry. Cry for the exhaustion and cry for the numbness I feel in my veins. Ironic, I know. My co-worker closes the door for me.
I feel so relieved and begin an upbeat conversation with the other girl. It is the day before my 24th birthday. I go home and shower, trying to begin the day over. There is dinner and then gifts. Now, it is 24 hours later. He lays beside me, his head in a book and I cringe over the thought of the next 24 hours.

If I Had an English Accent

2006-11-10T22:54:00.000-05:00

If I could develop a Madonna-esque American/English accent I would exclaim such things as: "Brilliant!" or "That is Absurd!" or "I'll stay for tea, but only for a short time." Then, even saying things such as: "please ask the blonde stripper to bring me change for that $50" would seem very classy. I would feel like a lady, even when I asked the woman in the public restroom to "please be a dear and pass me approximately 8 sheets of toilet paper." Yes, if I had an English accent I would be a lady, if only in spoken word.

One Day at a Time

2006-11-09T22:09:00.000-05:00

Pulling into the last parking spot in the second row of grocery getters, I notice the klank of wine bottles in the woman's grocery cart as she passes us. I know he hears them. He notices everything. I steer us towards the far entrance so that the liquor department is as far away as possible. As we walk in, we're blasted with the smell of $5 coffee from the Starbucks. I know his thirst for even small drugs, such as caffeine, is overwhelming. As we stroll through the produce, I imagine how I would deal if we faced someone he needed to make amends with ... would I walk away and allow him to work this step or would I stand there in the awkward moment? I qualify myself as a true codependent as I answer my own dilemma: I would stay so that I could make sure he made his amends and so that I would know exactly what happened. I play this role so well.
We both notice the Stolich vodka sale display in the soda aisle, so I make some random comment in hopes of distracting both of us. I'm quickly reminded of the display as we pick up the gallon of orange juice ... I've never even seen him drink screwdrivers before, but the thought is still there. Though I hate that he smokes, I buy him a carton of cigarettes simply because I would rather he smoke than relapse again ... and I can't trust him with any amount of money to buy a carton on his own. By the time we're walking out the doors, I'm considering all the places I could hide my debit card when we returned home. At last night's meeting one woman reminded me that, "they act crazy and we feel crazy." Apparently, Hy Vee exacerbates this insane feeling.

This is Going to Sting A Bit.

2006-11-08T22:40:00.000-05:00

"Yeah, he told me how you guys are close." My face began to warm, I strained to calm my vocal cords and attempted to reply in a stoic manner, "Oh, you mean he told you he kind of took me in after I found my dad murdered." After the words fell out of the air I felt a surge of blood to my head, so I turned and walked back to my desk without looking at either one of them in the face. I wonder how long this guy has known - and now, who else knows. It has taken me five years to learn how to interact with another person for more than a few days without infecting them with the details of that tragic event. It became part of my identity for so long - the girl that found her father shot to death. The pity was always bitter sweet. Sweet in that I didn't have to hide this looming storm cloud that follows me around. Bitter in that now I would have to deal with being "that poor girl."
We all quickly delved back into surface conversation and I felt my body calm. This is a familiar cycle, but it never seems to lose that initial sting. I have learned how to disconnect enough to deliver the words without seeming phased. The truth remains that ever since that 10 second exchange of words at 2:00 my day has not been the same.

Dear Diary

2006-11-07T21:41:00.000-05:00

As I read other blogs it becomes apparent to me that being somewhat undefined in my purpose for writing is perfectly acceptable. I had a blog earlier this year, but it turned into a log of bipolar waves and random insanity (so maybe the spans of sanity were random). Once again, I am finding it increasingly difficult to keep from spewing my inner-most ramblings. Okay, it's one thing to read the humor of some one's kid puking on their mother-in-law or their quirky boss' obsession with making shadow figures on the copy machine, but it is creepy to look back on an entry discussing the need for self-destruction. I became so disgusted with myself that I had to delete the damn thing. However, as the blog posting month begins I am finding that the visceral words of living spew until they're trapped with the backspace button. Fussy mentioned that a few people have already dropped out of NaBloPoMo. I missed a day last week but I decided not to explain my absence and simply continue on with my goal. However, my disassociation from my topics has produced a bland and unsatisfying week of writing.
So, I am torn. Do I continue the excruciating process of developing daily topics or just let things roll? I don't want this to turn into a personal journal again. What's more, is that I have found that my humor makes some people uncomfortable - things that are funny to me are simply unnerving to some people.
So, things may change or maybe I'll be hit with a surge of creativity ... 23 more days to go.

Rockin' in the Free World

2006-11-06T22:56:00.000-05:00

Oh the midterm elections! Am I the only one genuinely excited about voting tomorrow? I mean, I am freaking ecstatic! My mother and I giggled like school girls over the phone tonight - our delight at the chance for change in the nation and our state. Missouri has been one of those "key" states, so I am stoked that I can contribute a vote that will possibly stimulate a shift in our world. Now, instead of blogging and writing tireless emails I can actually do something active to change my world. Wow, I am such a nerd.

Pugauchsand a.k.a Roxy

2006-11-04T19:53:00.000-05:00

This is my little one.

I know it's already a link...

2006-11-03T00:03:00.000-05:00

This is just fascinating to me ... go read some secrets.

Her fingers tapped across the white key board

2006-11-01T19:55:00.000-05:00

I'm sooo looking forward to Will Ferrell's new movie "Stranger Than Fiction." Seriously, am I the only one narrating their day to themself? My autobiography is being written in my head every single day. For example, take my thoughts from the other day:

I sat in traffic, the rain drops glowing from the red reflection of brake lights ahead of me, and remembered how we ran through Manhattan on that cold night in March. We came from Broadway, fresh with live music reverberating through our ears. No one would suspect that we were a couple of kids running away from the reality of our misguided lives. I was only 18 and he a 22 year old parolee. Little did we know, we had six weeks and another American coast to endure. This was the happiest time of my life. Today I sit in a car that isn't paid for, wearing a button down shirt that shows my ninies evertime I move an arm, listening to NPR and examining my daily paper cut. Fuck. I'm only 23.

...then motion begins and I'm running with the herd - my monologue far behind me. Okay, so it's always unrefined and grossly exaggerated and some parts minimized, but hey, maybe one day it will be worth a million. Maybe.

Go Crazy Folkes ... Go Crazy

2006-10-29T14:32:00.000-05:00

We stood by the Cards through years of uncertainty ... a world series never won - not since the year I was born ... until now. Victory is sweet.

Just the Facts

2006-10-26T19:29:00.001-04:00

Before you believe any of those political advertisements, check this out.

Just pointing it out...

2006-10-26T19:16:00.000-04:00

This is taken directly from Rush Limbaugh's website:

Fact: The Missouri Bill is on Cloning, Not Stem Cells

This is taken directly from the Missouri Secretary of State website:

Section 38(d). 1. This section shall be known as the “ Missouri Stem Cell Research and Cures Initiative.”

2. To ensure that Missouri patients have access to stem cell therapies and cures, that Missouri researchers can conduct stem cell research in the state, and that all such research is conducted safely and ethically, any stem cell research permitted under federal law may be conducted in Missouri, and any stem cell therapies and cures permitted under federal law may be provided to patients in Missouri, subject to the requirements of federal law and only the following additional limitations and requirements:

(1) No person may clone or attempt to clone a human being.

(2) No human blastocyst may be produced by fertilization solely for the purpose of stem cell research.

(3) No stem cells may be taken from a human blastocyst more than fourteen days after cell division begins; provided, however, that time during which a blastocyst is frozen does not count against the fourteen-day limit.

(4) No person may, for valuable consideration, purchase or sell human blastocysts or eggs for stem cell research or stem cell therapies and cures.

Hmmmm...

No words can describe my amusement

2006-10-22T21:54:00.000-04:00

7-2 Bitches!

2006-10-22T21:38:00.000-04:00

Game One is ours you nonbelieving assholes! We take baseball seriously in this state and people like Albert Pujols, Chris Carpenter, David Eckstein, Scott Roland, and Anthony Reyes are Gods. Everyone doubted we'd even get this far - ha, suckers! National League Champs! Go Cards!

Can I really do this?

2006-10-16T19:46:00.000-04:00

I know that I am probably setting myself up for failure, but what the hell. Yes fussy, I will accept your damn challenge.

That's so Gay.

2006-09-16T18:47:00.000-04:00

I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.
-Mohandas Gandhi

I am in my car, released from the hells of a 60 hour course I was taking for work, when a white Ford Taurus catches my eye. The popular ichthus surrounding "WWJD" and then a sticker with stick figures of a man + woman = marriage dawn the rear bumper. I recall what a family member (who's occupation is as a youth minister at a local Christian church) once said about homosexual people; he asserted that though he considers their sexual orientation a sin, they are children of God nonetheless. So, what would Jesus do? Would he approve of legislation to deny God's children the ability to live "in sin." Now, I am no Christian, but this rhetoric seems like such hypocrisy.

Let me go to my favorite view - the biological one. Current evidence converges to suggest that homosexual people's brains are structured differently due to prenatal exposure to androgens. Now, let's take a look at a condition called congenital adrenal hyperlasia (an excessive exposure to androgens prenatally)there was a study (Money, Schwartz, and Lewis, 1984) that reviewed women with this condition - Here are the facts: 37% described themselves as homosexual, 40% as heterosexual, and 23% would not answer the question. Take the 23% out - homosexuality rises to 48%. (This is not the only study.) Can't forget the genetic surveys too (Baily & Pillard, 1991; Baily et al., 1993; Pattatucci, 1995), which suggest that there is an increased occurrence of homosexuality in families. (Twin studies of monozygotic twins reported a 52% rate.)

So, what does it all mean to us?

Once again, my ignorant governor has made his bigotry that more obvious. Missouri State University has recently adopted an addition to their anti-discrimination policy to include sexual orientation. Mr. Blunt expressed his disappointment: "Today's decision bows to the forces of political correctness. It was unnecessary and bad." Unnecessary and bad, huh? Treating others with the dignity and respect they deserve is an unnecessary policy?

Where is Bush's legislation for marriage by the way? Shouldn't his Christian Conservative base be pushing for this promise? How can one promise liberty and equality while promising restriction?

Samuel Clemons Knew What he Was Talking About

2006-08-24T12:07:00.000-04:00

If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.
-Mark Twain

words escape me...

2006-08-17T17:27:00.000-04:00

I'm still alive and hopefully will find the inspiration to post again soon. Not even G.W. has been able to motivate my ass.

Don't look at me, I didn't vote for him.

2006-07-20T10:45:00.001-04:00

First, there is a great article with opposing editorials from Mike Reagan and Howard Dean here. It's nice to see a source give both sides. Dean made a great point in an email though.

"If George Bush truly believed his rhetoric about stem cells, he would do something about the processes that create the excess embryos in the first place. But he won't."
So rather than encourage the creation of "biomass" in the pursuit of designer babies, I guess I can expect to see "principled" Dems and Reps walking hand in hand down the aisle to pass legislation to make adoption of children, especially those with special needs the ones that have survived "the abortion debate that wasn't" which no politician is willing to talk about anyway less expensive, as well as the follow on healthcare insurance premiums, and the often required attendant care.
It is interesting that politicians attempt to divide American's based on different "kinds of marriages" but when it comes to the most difficult "kind of parenting" they are all strangely silent."

So, yeah, why hasn't Bush and the supporters of the veto offered a plan to address the extra embryos? My eighteen-year-old cousin recently expressed his surprise that these embryos are actually destroyed rather than used - a sentiment which is echoed from many Americans. This debate is shrouded in religious issues and Bush likes to misuse science to support his claims.
In Bush's words he states that there is "no such thing as excess life, and the fact that a living being is going to die does not justify experimenting on it or exploiting it as a natural resource." Is using these embryos to possibly find cures for debilitating and fatal diseases exploitation? In my opinion (and many others, including crazy old Bill Frist) it is simply an efficient use of potential garbage.
According to those that oppose stem cell research the tiny clusters of cells are human life, but a scientific advisor to the president told him that a stem cell "has the potential for life, but it is not a life because it cannot develop on its own." Instead of accepting an opinion based on years of scientific research he headed the advice of an "ethicist" (how does one become an ethicist anyway? Are ethics not subjective?). Someone that would simply support Bush's own opinions.
Some supporters of a stem-cell band suggest that we use adult cells for such research, but according the the National institute of Health,

"Human embryonic stem cells are thought to have much greater developmental potential than adult stem cells. This means that embryonic stem cells may be pluripotent that is, able to give rise to cells found in all tissues of the embryo except for germ cells rather than being merely multipotent restricted to specific subpopulations of cell types, as adult stem cells are thought to be."

Instead of funding research that helps find cures and treatments to serious conditions we'd rather spend $500,000 on the teapot museum in North Carolina, 1.3 million for berry research, 2.3 million for the International Fertilizer Development Center ... the list is not exhaustive give my thanks to the state reps. that voted for the line-item veto. How did yours vote?)
For the Missourians, according to the St.Louis Post Dispatch our state is likely to pass the stem-cell intitiative (but we still need federal funds). If you live in Missouri - get your ass to the voting stations this fall! (Well, really everyone should be voting!)

To put it simply: This veto is a tragedy. Bush is a moron. I rest my case.

Fight against the misuse of science here.

If Einstein only knew...

2006-07-18T10:48:00.000-04:00

Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage - to move in the opposite direction.

Albert Einstein

I get by with a little help from my friends...

2006-07-18T09:50:00.000-04:00

As part of my slow morning routine I watch the Today show. Yeah, it isn't exactly the best source of current events, but I find that war, disease, and shameless politicians simply starts the day off with negativity ... I definitely don't need any more of that. So, apparently there was some scandalous rumor that Oprah and her bestfriend, Gayle, were gay (By the way, I hate hollywood rumors and try to know as little as possible about the lives of the rich and famous - damn the Today show). This made me think of M.
Ask me who my bestfriend is and I can think of a couple of people. J. is my partner and no doubt a "bestfriend" but its comforting to have my girls. My cell phone minutes are actually determined by how much I speak with M. My mom and I talk for often and long, but M. and I talk, literally, for hours.
We met in Human Sexuality. She was (and is) a fun loving hippy girl, sitting in the back row near me. We met another friend and so there was three. M. and I have a platonic love affair though. Now, we're thousands of miles a part and as close as ever. She has taken me to the hospital, sat with me for hours when J. was having so many problems, let me live with her for a week, and has always, always been there to help me feel young again.
Today there are mounds of Hallmark greeting cards and a list I carry in my purse of all the things she loves about me. There are text messages of song lyrics and movie lines. When I do drink (which is like twice a year) it is with her and there is no crying or sentimental drunkeness - just a good time.
Then there is Sam. In fourth grade there was only one cool person in Mrs. Ogle's class - Miss Samantha. We made an exploding volcano for the science fair, our first training bras, an introduction to swearing, and then band practice. I moved away soon, but by the end of junior high I traveled back a few times for some of the early days of partying. We were able to share music and politics - both of which she rocks. Years went by and then she got me a job. This job changed my life because I met J there. Now there is a little one and a husband, but the emails continue and she even got me to start blogging. I am ridiculously excited when I see her name in my inbox and check her blog nearly daily. No matter how long its been we seem to pick up right where we left off.
When I was first married I just went through dad's tragic death and was battling the shock - my social skills have been hindered ever since. I lost myself in J. for a while, becoming one of those women that define themselves by their husbands. As the past three years have gone by I have slowly been able to stand on my own. We've become partners instead of "one." Without my friends I don't think I could have done it. I get by with a lot of help from my friends...

A quote for the politically inclined.

2006-07-09T00:54:00.000-04:00

"It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it."
- Upton Sinclair

Annie, Annie, Annie ...

2006-07-06T01:02:00.000-04:00

Has Coulter been taking lessons from Jason Blair?

I suppose it was overdue for Coulter. Plagiarism? Could it be true? The New York Post seems to report that it is so. How can someone so despised really think they can get away with plagairising others' work? Isn't it obvious that she is going to be the target for intense scrutiny? Does she know how to cite other authors or is she intentionally using the words of other organizations and journalists? With such a distinguished resume one would assume that she would be capable of citing references and even prepared to supply them.
Coulter's website doesn't seem to have any defense in this accusation. Instead, her July 5th entry is an attack on The Post for not running an interview she did with them. Is this her feeble attempt at slinging mud? In my opinion, when the guilty party doesn't have a defense it tries to throw in a distraction. Being an attorney Coulter is probably a professional at such strategies.
Unfortunately, Coulter supporters will ignore the charge and the rest of us will despise her all the more.

Depressive Realism: Is there a way to reason it out?

2006-07-04T00:29:00.000-04:00

Warning: Not a lighthearted kind of post!

I first heard of depressive realism from my mentor in college and later discussed it's personal meaning with a like-minded professor. Basically, depressive realism is the hypothesis that mildly depressed individuals are more realistic than happy or clinically depressed people. This gave me a concept. I was no longer the pessimist, but instead, the realist.
Great! Now I'm average and the pressure is off. Or is it? I still have the burn to do something beyond a bachelor's degree. Ah ha. Now my friend depressive realism enters the thought process. Maybe i should settle for a Master's degree. Can I really hack 4 more years and an internship?
My practice at positive thinking then enters the conversation. "Settle" no you can't settle. If you can get through those hellacious years of undergrad then you can get through any academic challenge.
And so it seems I am weighing depressive realism with positive thinking and it is always stagnant to some degree. That's where I'm at. No where. Does being depressively realistic help me? In the end will it protect me from failure? Is there any protection from failure? What good does the truth do when it is holding me back?

What do I benefit from knowing reality, that is, from intellectually knowing the truth?

Fideism is the newest of J's terms. Interestingly enough fideism can be interpreted in one way as to contend that faith and truth cannot be reasoned. Whoa. This little agnostic perked up at the introduction of this philosophy. Here's the deal, I have read the research, I have researched the rebuttals, I know there is no intelligent design and believe Christ and Siddhartha may have been the same person - or even two cool dudes. That's it though - no saviors or Gods. I want to believe in something so badly, but organized religion is the epitome of my disgust. My mentor is active in organized religion and has told me that he believes because he wants to - and leaves all reason at the door.
Can I release my grasp on reason, reality, & intellectual truth in hopes of finding a more comforting and possibly meaningful life?
There are no epiphanies as of yet and it seems like more than just making a choice.

Five things that made me happy today.

2006-06-29T19:00:00.000-04:00

1. Quoting song lyrics to my friend and not even missing a beat in the conversation because she knew what I was saying.
2. Apply #1 to "Anchorman" lines.
3. Mexican style totino's pizza.
4. The old man that came in the store today and answered my greeting with "better now that I'm with you." Creepy, but satisfying.
5. How, after I sat on the other side of the couch, Roxy had to come lay under my arm.

The Rebuttals Begin.

2006-06-28T20:34:00.000-04:00

Laura has replied and so it seems fitting to post my counter-argument since it is on her blog. So here goes:

"Much like how you take attacks on Christianity personally, I take attacks on feminism personally. It is difficult not to take it personally when someone has so disastrously interpreted it. You seem to think I don’t have a good understanding of Christianity, doesn’t that frustrate you – it seems like it does. Imagine how I felt when I read your complete misunderstanding.
It is great that you were able to use the information from an abstinence program. Too bad that isn’t the case for more people. “According to Columbia University researchers, virginity pledge programs increase pledge-takers’ risk for STIs and pregnancy. The study concluded that 88 percent of pledge-takers initiated sex prior to marriage even though some delayed sex for a while. Rates of STIs among pledge-takers and non-pledgers were similar, even though pledge-takers initiated sex later. Pledge-takers were less likely to seek STI testing and less likely to use contraception when they did have sex.” (http://www.advocatesforyouth.org/publications/factsheet/fssexcur.htm – this web site cites several reputable, peer reviewed journal articles)

As for your daycare comment, that seems like you’re attacking working mothers that put their children in daycare. Those that can afford expensive cars tend to put their children in preschool (an educational setting) as opposed to daycare. For you information, a psychologist, Mary Main, has found that day care provides children with valuable lessons in independence and social interaction. Preschool, and even daycare, can be beneficial for a child. And the reason these children cry when their mothers leave is a natural progression of how attachment develops. Maybe read a child development book – Piaget and Boulby are good places to begin.

The problem with the differences perspective is that people overgeneralize the difference. Oftentimes differences other than physiological types are minute, but are blown out of proportion (see Janet Hyde’s 2005 meta-analysis). You wrote: “Women may generally be weaker physically, so what?” My thoughts exactly. As for your example of the woman being beat to an inch of her life – aren’t there many male police officers assaulted and killed too? How can you say that if it were a man he wouldn’t have been beaten as badly too?

There are several hypothetical situations I could supply for ways women do not have the power of no. Furthermore, the mainstream culture degrades women and definitely socializes our women and girls into objects. You seem to think that it’s so easy to just say no. Even Nancy Regan has rethought that campaign. I suppose you couldn’t interject any personal experience here. Personal experience isn’t really a sample large enough to infer anything about a population anyway.

Again, you ramble on without any credible sources. If you think Christianity is misunderstood at least quote some scripture. I admit that I am not as familiar with Christianity as you may be, but maybe you can enlighten me. You still haven’t cited any empirical evidence from what I’ve read so far. How can you make such claims without anything backing it up? For now I suppose we’ll agree to disagree. I’m guessing this debate has ended. (Oh, and thanks for replying to me directly on my blog. Jude doesn’t understand all the ramblings you put on his blog.)"

A friendly debate

2006-06-27T23:12:00.000-04:00

Miss Laura has had a not-so-friendly debate with my friend, Sam, this of course caused me to browse her blog. It has turned into a spot where I try to "get in touch" with a christian conservative view. It is a perplexing view, but interesting and frustrating to read. During her debate with Sam instead of responding to Sam directly, she responded on Sam's son's blog - infuriating to say the least.
Laura recently wrote an entry about feminism. This caused me to try to respond to her again. I tried to respond once before, but my comments were erased. So, breaking in my new blog I'll post my response since I'm sure it will be erased again.

"I don't have a toddler's blog, so I'll have to respond to this post. Every so often I read this blog – just to see how some christian conservatives think. I do not dislike conservatives – or christians. However, opinions without research are difficult to take seriously. I have replied to this blog before with simple questions (without any derogatory language or personal attacks), but they were deleted. I would guess that this will be erased as well. However, it is important to me to respond to unsupported and outlandish claims.
Like any philosophy, feminism is divided into many movements, but radical feminists are spotlighted – much like the extremist Muslims. Not all Muslims are terrorists and not all feminists are radical. Dr. Hirshman doesn’t represent all feminists (maybe refer back to the Newsweek article where the interviewer inferred she was using feminism).
Laura claims that self-esteem has become an issue over the past 30 years and she attributes that to feminists. Self-esteem has become an issue over the last 60 years because the concept of self-esteem has been spotlighted through the self-help movement. Furthermore, self-esteem is strongly related to media images and peer interaction.
Obviously, parents do impact their children’s development. Laura infers feminists do not care about children, nor do “career women.” Mothers that work aren’t given enough credit. According to Huston and Aronson (2005) from the University of Texas, Austin, mother-child time is “necessary for children’s cognitive activity, language, and positive social interactions.” With that being noted, the same study concluded that time spent with children must be attentive and sensitive. Furthermore, they concluded that employed women compensated by lost time during the week by increasing time during the weekend – by decreasing leisure time. Finally, employed mothers spent more time in quality activities (e.g. playing, talking, and holding their children). There was no conclusion that mothers’ time working interfered with the quality of their relationship with their children. Yes dear, it seems women can work and have a family too. Feminists weren’t so far off when they imagined this world. You do remember that
Laura clearly has no idea what “feminism has done.” Feminism has made a choice available to women. This so called divide between stay-at-home moms and working women has been perpetuated by the media; much like the Newsweek article in the 80’s that claimed women over 40 were more likely to get shot by a terrorist that be married (this was retracted and overwhelming evidence refutes this claim). People that resent feminism blow “Mommy Wars” out of proportion.
Really? The divorce rate can be attributed to feminism? Again, the choice that was offered to women is a result of the feminist movement and cultural shifts. So, women and men that are unhappy have to stay in a marriage? As Laura has so eloquently put it “women are the same as men and that men should have no more leadership in the relationship than the woman.” There is an undeniable difference in the physiology of men and women, so that should be magically overcome right? Women can’t be in the military or physically demanding jobs because of this difference? We are not as cognitively competent? In my marriage, it is a partnership between my husband and I. Watch out – an egalitarian relationship? I thank the women before me that worked so diligently for this cultural shift.
As for abortion, we could debate this for years. Ending a pregnancy can be the best choice for the woman and fetus. Let us address the children that result from unwanted pregnancies. A study done by David et al. in 1998 followed children from unwanted pregnancies and wanted pregnancies. By adulthood, unwanted children were more likely to abuse drugs, have legal issues and have overall psychological difficulties – this list is not exhaustive. Women that go through with unwanted pregnancies are also unhappy and report that they treat their children poorly throughout development.
Just a few statistics I have for you: before Roe v. Wade, an estimated 200,000 to 1.2 million illegal abortions were performed each year and about 10,000 women died from them. Women used crude and harmful ways to induce abortions. A woman is 25 times more likely to die as a result of childbirth than of a legal abortion. (Matlin, 1998).
I have worked in a group home for cognitively disabled and unwanted children. Have you met children that have been in and out of foster care and that are unwanted by everyone - only having revolving staff to look up to? It is heartbreaking. However, our friends in the government cut funding to social services and this group of people is forgotten.
We’re not going to stop people from having sex. Instead, our president has promoted an abstinence only policy – these people aren’t even getting the education they need to protect themselves against disease and unwanted pregnancies. Educated individuals are less likely to have children at a young age and to practice safe sex. Abstinence only policies don’t work. Not everyone is a christian – nor does everyone want to be a christian. Even people that identify themselves as some type of christian have premarital sex.
Laura is misguided by what feminism stands for. Many feminists work for HUMAN rights. For example, boys are trailing significantly in school and it is the feminist psychologists that are working towards understanding this trend.
Before making such wild claims, please Laura, do your homework. You write as though you know feminists, but from your description you have no idea what the philosophy is about. You make extreme generalizations about a group of people you obviously don’t know. It seems as though your trend is to criticize groups of people you couldn’t begin to understand.
You seem to think that feminists hate men. Where did you get that? And feminists are promiscuous. Please, come up with something better than that. How can a promiscuous woman hate a man? It seems to be the exact opposite, don’t you think? Oh and maybe you should take a look into third-wave feminism and the ‘girl power’ movement. It encourages self-respect and loving yourself – no matter your physical appearance. Feminism is about empowerment – not at the expense of anyone else.
Substantiate your claims at least. I consider myself a feminist and I love my husband and our egalitarian relationship. As for my sex life, well dear, sorry to disappoint you but I wouldn’t be considered promiscuous by any standard. I’m also pretty satisfied and happy in my life. I could provide you with all kinds of similar examples, but that wouldn’t add to your ridiculous claims would it?
By the way, primary references are helpful when making any type of point. I respect that you are a christian, but have you ever thought critically about the information you are fed? Maybe a course in general psychology or sociology – or God forbid, a course in gender would expand your ability to have an informed opinion. I hope you’re able to write a rebuttal that is researched – but I understand if you cannot."

An Inspiration For Something To Do.

2006-06-27T22:48:00.000-04:00

"I came into this world, not chiefly to make this a good place to live in, but to live in it, be it good or bad. A man has not everything to do, but something; and because he cannot do everything, it is not necessary that he should do something wrong."
Henry David Thoreau, Civil Disobedience.