I Made A Circus Freak

fancy corgi

Required Monthly Corgi

I used to work at the public library here in my hometown. I worked with this adorable high school girl who I think is turning into an incredible young woman. Anyway, she moved to East Moose Screw, Canada. She was at the library visiting yesterday.

Okay that is a strange place to start the story, but this is a strange story so stick with me.

Many many years ago I babysat a little girl. She was blonde with these huge blue eyes, and we spent a lot of time doing things like making fun of Nelly Furtado videos, having adventures at the park, playing Neopets, and being creative weirdos. She was the sweetest, weirdest little girl. Her parents were also the kindest people I have ever met in my life. They showed me a generosity that I hope to be able to share one day. I’m also going to dedicate a book to them. I know which one, I just have to finish writing it.

Okay, back to yesterday, the Canadian Moose Screw girl had made a quick trip to the states and was in our library, and I went there talk to her a bit. They were there waiting on the girl I used to babysit. I told Autumn (Canadian Moose Screw Girl) a story about babysitting Courtney. She told me Courtney had to get it from somewhere. I had to ask a few questions about what she meant by it. She clarified by saying, “You know, her weirdness.”I was pleased to have spread the weird.

Later, Courtney arrived, still blonde with huge blue eyes. We got to talking. She does pole dancing (acrobatic not stripping), aerial silks, stilt walking, and performs at drag shows. I got about ten different kinds of excited because she had turned into a circus freak, but in the best possible way. She also told me I helped shape her weird.

I realized I helped make a circus freak.

It was one of my proudest moments in my life. I mean, who aside from circus professors (there is such a thing) and the parents of circus performers can say they made a circus freak? Not many, that’s who. My influence helped make the world a little more weird and beautiful and that is all I want from my life, to make things more weird and beautiful. I think I can count this as a win.

In truth, I’m proud of her because she turned out strong, brave, smart, and a total firecracker. I had nothing to do with that, like I said, she had exceptional parents, and she was all ready incredible when I met her. I am going to claim the circus freak part though. I will steal my wins if I have to.

 

 
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I Love My Life

BLOOOD

I’m hoping that is mud. Or blood. Or anything aside from what I am hoping it is not.

So, I know I have been kinda melancholy lately, not like depressed or wanting to cut myself to prove to myself I’m alive or anything, but just not my normal fucked up cheery self. I had been frustrated and stressed and worried. Blah Blah Blah. Today, I had one of those simple glorious moments that slayed my melancholy and made me fall back madly in love with my life. It also proved, once again, that Tina is way more awesome than me.

Lemme set the scene: The Viking had an important thing today, and my curiosity killed all of my recent attempts to be less all overly attached girlfriend.” (See bottom of post for explanation of meme reference. I understand some of you aren’t as win at the internet as I am.) So, I sent him a text asking how things went, then I went about my day doing awesome because I am awesome. An hour later I checked my phone and found six texts.

Text one was from The Viking assuring me he is almost as awesome as I am.

This is a transcripts of the rest of what happened:

Text 2: Tina: Do you ever have one of those moments when you step out to grab the mail and one of the neighehood stray cats (that happens to be black) bolts in as you

Text 3: Still Tina: open the door and while handling the ensuing mayhem you find the crystal ball you lost months ago and there’s really (not) much else you can do at that point

Text 4: but light a white candle and ponder the absurdities of life?

Text 5: Tina: Just Me?

Text 6: Tina: …Awkward…

That in its self is pretty awesome. I managed to give Tina more opportunity to show how much cooler than she is than me.

The first text I sent was  in response to The Viking.

I bet they were impressed with your sexy beastness.

I hit send. My phone told me message was sent to Tina.  I immediately hit the red hang-up button and swore profusely then texted her explaining it was meant for him. Her response:

That was an epic mt. (mistell, it is gamer speak.)

Although, I have been wondering how people are responding to my sexy beastness for quite some time.

 

 

This is why her win cup is fuller than mine.

 

This is an example of the overly attached girlfriend meme. This is what I don’t want to be.

 

 

 
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Wibbly Wobbly

giraffe baby smile

So goofy looking, it is cute. That seems to be the theme among all of my favorite animals.

< That makes me happy. The giraffe-y face of melty happiness. He is yet another wonderful thing I got from Kathleen.

This week my blogs have been exceedingly uninspired or rants. They haven’t been up to what I normally write. I’ve had a lot on my mind, and I’ve had plenty going on. I am just not sure how much goes here.

I’ve always said that I try to be open and honest here. I still believe in that principle, but sometimes I have to decide what is for here and what isn’t. Oddly enough the woman who will talk about PMS and pubic hair does have boundaries of what I consider private. I’m trying to figure them out.

If a thing is just about me, I have few qualms about sharing them. I am willing to accept any consequences of my decision to believe in openness. I’ve lived with decision for a year now. The things going on in my life involve other people right now, and I try desperately to not encroach on the privacy of those I love.

Plus, things are jumbly in my mind. I alternate between these moments of great forward motion, clarity, and understanding and these times of jumbliness in my own mind. (I made up all of those variations of the word jumble. I know they aren’t real. Whatcha gunna do about it?) I need to sort through the bits and put them were they go. The good news is that the pieces have changed very little since the last time I put them into order. I also know what I need to be doing to get things back into order. It is the same things I always need to do.

I spend a lot of time feeling like a dumbass because I do have to look at the bits in my life and figure out where they go. It always seems normal folks don’t have to do that. They know what is up in their worlds and what to do next. I used to feel like there was something wrong with me because I didn’t have that certainty. I’m beginning to see that most people have moments of “what the fuck am I doing?!?,” but we don’t notice because we are so wrapped up in our own moments. I don’t think I am really all that abnormal; I just don’t cover it as well.

I took on this mantle of total weirdo a long time ago. I thought for the longest time that I was drastically different from others. Even after a year of exploring how I am not different from other people, I have a hard time understanding that I am pretty normal. I was just absent the day we learned we weren’t supposed to acknowledge how weird we felt. I also grasped on to the idea of strangeness like an armor or a flag. If I wasn’t going to feel like I fit in, then I was going to revel in my differences. I took it on as an identity, and it became like a cataract blinding me to my likeness to other people.

I don’t know. Like I said, I’m a jumbly mess with lots of thoughts.

 

 
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Fracking Freaking Frick

I offer this as a consolation gift for being terrible

Okay, here are a few problems. I have been bitten by every bug in central Oklahoma and mobbed by every speck of pollen. The pollen came carrying clubs because pollens are assholes. I had to consume copious amounts of antihistamines so I don’t scrape off all of my skin with my razor sharp switch blade fingernails, and my head didn’t explode.   I emptied my rage bars with yesterday’s blog.  In short, I am loopy as hell and depleted.

Honestly, right now all I can think about is how shiny the Viking is, the good book I’m reading, seeing my nieces and nephew tomorrow, and waking up early in the morning. None of those things make good blogs.

 
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The New “F-Word”

Okay. okay, hold on to your hats cats and kittens, we are about to have another feminist rant.

This spawns from a Facebook thing between the lovely women at Rock The Slut Vote and another well written fellow feminist Wendy Gittleson, who wrote a blog about the use of the words slut and vagina.

She is not wrong. Women are more than “sluts” and “vaginas” and the campaign is extreme and inflammatory. I happen to like it, but I have a flair for the dramatic. What got me typing a long comment response was when Ms. Gittleson responded to the RTSV ladies with this comment:

And I wish you the best, but I believe you are preaching to the choir. The women we need are the ones that see sisterhood with Ann Romney, and they’re already scared of the word ‘feminism.’ Slut and vagina are words. I have proudly called myself a slut at times. I’ve also called men sluts. To me, it’s never been a particularly offensive word, but it’s still just a word. Vagina is just a body part. I want to be respected for my brain, for my contributions to society. If I, as someone who has been following your movement from day one, have a hard time seeing the focus of your message, imagine how women who are afraid of feminism are feeling? It also begs the other question, why are we letting Rush Limbaugh set our agenda?

Oh, I went to typing at that. The RTSV responded with everything I would have said anyway.

Rush Limbaugh is such a small part of the agenda. The media is much more focused on him than we are.

No one is going to convert the women who are conservative, Republican or who support Ann Romney — certainly no amount of conversation, no matter how well-spoken or rational, will make any difference. (Isn’t it the GOP that is committed to converting and monitoring the morality of women? It is their party that pushes conversion, not ours!

We are not here to convert anyone, and it will never be part of our agenda. We are here to increase awareness, help ensure women are registered to vote, and to preach to the choir, keep them engaged, help them mobilize others, and make a difference in November.

We are two women, Kimberley Johnson and myself, simply finding our voice in the midst of the insane attack on American women. Together with our troops, we will all make whatever contribution we can.

Women are a huge, diverse group. Some women will never agree with feminism on any level. These are the same women who teach girls that it our responsibility to be chaste and proper. They teach girls that men are dumb animals who can’t control their base urges, but in the next breath teach girls that men are superior and should be dominant.

We teach them it is okay to be objects, to be regulated, to be marginalized, and to be abused. Girls learn that their most important value is in their sexual attractiveness, but they should never give in to those men they attract until they have sealed the deal.  We teach girls to accept weakness and insecurity in men and to be weak and insecure themselves. I have heard, in 2012, that women have to dumb themselves down and be less funny, powerful, and witty in order to catch a man. No one ever tells those women that the men they catch will be insecure and unworthy of them.

There are men out there who love intelligent, passionate, funny women. If you have to wait to find one, so be it.

I understand the hesitation to wave the banner of feminism. I was reluctant to answer it for a long time. But I got pissed off. That is what we need to do. We need to get pissed off. We need to write. We need to educate. We need to vote.

I am going to say this again, because this is vital for feminism. We need to stop the in fighting amongst women. We need to learn to respect each others choices. It is rough. We fight so hard to decide what is right for us. We struggle to defend our decisions against the rest of the world, and when we see someone making the opposite decision, we want to call them wrong.

How do we handle things like the beginning of the blog? Like they handled it. It was mature discussion about differences of ideas. We don’t have to like each other. We just have to acknowledge that we are fighting the same fight. There is room for all kinds of women in feminism. We just have to take a lead from the amazing Ani DiFranco and shut up and be nice. Focus on what needs to be done

This sums up my feelings on douchey politicians fighting to get all up in my lady business.

 
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Challenge Accepted

Oh, I went there, Bitches.

Saturday my friend Sara O’Flaherty challenged me, along with several others to do a “who am I” meme blog. I thought it would be fun to accept.

I’m thirty years old. There were earthquakes on my birthday. It was a sign that this decade is going to be sheer awesome.

I’m a writer and handler of things. I put up with bullshit and make things happen.

I’m bossy as hell. I admit it. I try not to be, but sometimes shit needs to be done.

I’m passionate, loving, kind, driven, and kind of bitchy. I have a lot of fear but I’ve learned life is more vibrant if you try to live through the fear.

Sometimes I have the common sense of a rock. I am pretty sure my friends are afraid that I’m going to walk out in front of a bus.

I have a fat ass. I love it. It annoys or befuddles some people that I am not more ashamed of my weight. Fuck that noise. Life piles enough bullshit on you without adding self loathing.

I am an unwilling feminist. I didn’t set out to be angry about the gender fuck wittery in the world, but I just can’t help it.

I always feel like I am terrible at being a grown up. I feel like a little kid in pretend clothes when I realize I’m thirty or when I say I’m a writer.

Yeah, I’m batshit crazy. I don’t pretend otherwise. I warn everyone who drifts into my life so I can tell them I told them so later on.

I’m a huge dork.

I’m learning that I don’t know nearly as much about myself as I thought a few years ago. I like myself now more than I did a few years ago.

I love to laugh. I try not to take too many things seriously. I make fun of myself avidly.Life can’t destroy you if you can laugh at it.

Yeah, I’m sure there is other stuff but I completely lost focus. Let me sum up: I’m crazy, and I like words.

 

 

 
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It’s Really Not Complicated

weird love

Kathleen posted this on my FB page. It is a beautiful thing to think.

For obvious reasons, I have been thinking about love a lot lately. There are so many kinds in my life. Some I’m good at; others I still have a lot to learn about.

I’m enough of a dirty touchy-feely hippie to think that love is a gift. I believe we should love as many different people as we can as fiercely as we are capable. It makes our lives complicated, and sometimes it turns our lives upside down, but it worth it.

The purpose of life is not to acquire things, but to find people, build relationships and take care of each other. Families are the meaning of life. I don’t mean the traditional idea of a family with a mommy, daddy, and kids (but nothing against it); I mean people who have found each other and have decided to care for each other whenever they can. Some people are part of your life everyday, like a spouse or parent, some people you only see every few months or years. They are still family.

On the other hand, just because someone is related to you it doesn’t mean they are family. Love as many people as you can as deeply as you can, but only if care enough to keep the trust of that love. If someone loves you, it is a gift. There is a certain kindness inherent in that gift. When you accept love, you accept power over that person and the responsibility to use that power wisely. That all is actually pretty complicated. I think it boils down to the “don’t be a douche rule.”

Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot of why love can be such a fearful thing. I think it is two simple things. When you love someone they have power over you. They can hurt you. Also, we make love far more complicated than it really is.

I think we believe that romantic love comes with all of these expectations. We believe if we admit to romantic love we are involving ourselves into this big scary pile of things. We think if we love someone suddenly it stops being about just the two of you and morphs into a mess of future. In our minds, love has to lead to marriage, children, and everything else. If we admit to love, we feel forced to push into this.

Love for me is simpler. Love is that moment of rightness. There is this glorious moment with someone when you feel more right than you ever have. You feel safer, happier, prettier, and more alive than you ever have. Love is that moment when you feel like you could breath in the other person.

Love can change into other things. I think love is an action. If you marry someone, you have to actively work to love your spouse. You have to decide you are going to make things work that day. I think, though, in the beginning before the commitment and those decisions, love is something simpler. We make it more complicated.

I’ve been in love before. My love-life history is a flaming mess. My natural urge is to downplay my past love. I was in love. I learned lots. I moved on. Does that make my current love less valid? No. Because I have been happy before does not make happy times in the future less valid or intense. We can love many many times. The difference is if we chose to commit to the love we are in. Feeling love doesn’t mean we are suddenly tied to another person. We make decisions to be tied to another person.

I’ve decided not to worry about those decisions right now. They will come when they come. Right now, I’m going to focus on feeling.

 
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Things I have Learned on the Internet

I’m a creature of the internet, and the internet is full of many many lessons.

  1. Everyone is a moron, aside from you. Sometimes this feels very true, like when you see people arguing against evolution or global warming. There are so many times that I want to tell people that they are wrong and outline to them why they are an idiot. Will it do any good? No. Will it make me feel better? Probably. Is it a huge waste of time and emotional energy? Yes. Generally the folks who argue extreme points on the internet are arguing from emotion, not logic, or you are arguing from emotions, not logic. Read their point to try to see their side, but arguing, like resistance, is futile.
  2. Everyone in the world is fat and lazy, including you. Have good self esteem? Go on the interwebz, it will fix that for you really quick. The internet called Megan Fox a cow, the rest of us are fucked.
  3. You do everything WRONG. All of your instincts are wrong. Every decision you make is wrong.  Normal people don’t feel that way.
  4. Everything give you cancer, and all of the food you eat will kill you. Bitch, your ass is going to die because you drank bottled water, but it will still die if you drink tap water. EVERYTHING will kill you.
  5. You are a bad person. If you don’t read every website for every cause imaginable and give a way your dollars, then you are a terrible person, and the world is going to shit because of you. (On a side note, your dollars need to go here.)
  6. Woman only care about fashion, how to land a man, and how to make our vaginas more pleasing. Men only care about sports and ‘hitting it and quitting it’ with that hot chick at the bar. If you care about something other than these things, you are abnormal.

    Pink Button lipstick for your "other lips"

    Never fear, here is some make-up for your vagina. It is ugly right now, and no one will ever love you or your vagina until you fix that.

  7. Every news source is fair and unbiased; it’s their competitors that are slanted. I’m guilty of this. Fox News shouldn’t have “news” after it. If you want good quality reporting there is always The Daily Show and The Colbert Report.
  8. You are screwing up your child. Every decision you make is permanently damaging your kid, and you should have your reproductive organs removed for your crimes.
  9. I’m not the only one who finds those shoes with the individual toes creepy as hell. Toe socks freaked me out enough, but the shoes make me deeply uncomfortable.  I’m pretty sure I should be in therapy.
  10. We all are in need for medical treatment for something. You are not okay the way you are. Go fix yourself.

The internet reminds me of high school, except only larger, like if the entire world went to your high school. The very idea of it makes me need tranquilizers.

Okay, no really, I love the internet. I think there are a lot of beautiful things about the internet. Like this site, this site is definitely one of the beautiful things about the net. Honestly, we all know the internet is a vehicle for pictures of cats and naked people. Viva La Naked People!

 
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The Brain, It Hurts.

Roosevelt on a moose

You will never be this bad ass.

I was texting with the Viking earlier while he was helping his Tina fix stuff. (Yes, the Viking can fix things, AND he promised to teach me to weld. Score!) I told him he was good people and being good people was highly undervalued now.

[Okay, I'm going to pause here for a second to explain somethings. The kind folks at Rock the Slut Vote linked Thursday's blog and I got a lot of extra traffic. I am going to assume some might come back. That first bit was full of wonderful things that make no sense to normal people. I will explain. Pay attention. The Viking is my boyfriend (we haven't official decided we are technically a couple, but I've decided it anyway), and he got this nickname from my friend Kathleen because he is 6'5 and blonde. He can also grow one of the most epic beards in the history of beards. Tina is my best friend. She has been a part of my life for many many years, and I consider her and her family mine. One day I want to be a crazy old lady doing watercolor paintings with her. I refer to the Viking's best friend as his Tina. Clear as mud?]

Also, I do really want to learn to weld.

So, I typed out this paragraph attempting to explain what I meant by undervaluing being a good people. Yes, I am writing ‘a good people’ on purpose. It is wrong, but it is wrong deliberately.  I realized after I read the paragraph it was crap. I believe in what I said, but my brain focus is too broken to write a well thought out blog.

I decided to reassert my purpose for the new kids in class. (I am determined to believe I got new readers. Your facts and logic have no power over me.)

I’ve had this blog for awhile now. It started out with a theme thing. I wrote about a theme three days a week for a month then switched. You can go back and look at them, some of them are good, but a lot are kinda awful. Well, I went through a break up with a Juice bag (douche bag) and kind of melted all the way the hell down. I did this very publicly on my blog. It was glorious.

I realized that people responded to my openness. As I moved forward, it became apparent that everyone feels like I do sometimes, but we are all forced to be something different than what we are so we can fit in. I got lucky by being too damn weird to ever fit in, so I decided to throw up my hands and stop trying.

I still do my best to write three days a week. I generally succeed on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but lately my Saturdays have been taken over because everyone I know is having a baby or is getting married, and the fore mentioned Viking. I dig you cats, but I will skip a blog to see him. If you truly loved me, you would understand.

Anyway, sometimes I write good stuff like I did Thursday, but sometimes I write strange things like today. On really bad days, you will get a picture or some utter crap.

My purpose isn’t to always be thoughtful and well written. My purpose is to always be myself. I am trying with everything I am to show you guys me, because I believe everyone deserves to be who they are and be loved for it. It is hard sometimes. Sometimes it is scary as hell. Sometimes I am so bored with myself I become convinced that I will kill my blog. Sometimes I am so ranty and preachy I annoy myself. I hope, though, it is always me.

I have a suspicion Tina will straighten my ass out if I ever start not being me.

 

 

 
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Listen Up, Bitches!

Okay, my pretties, it is time for us to have another talk about that dreaded feminism thing.

I assume that anyone who reads this regularly is either a feminist, loves a feminist, or is a masochist that likes to read terrible rants about gender issues, so I’m not going to outline why we need to give voice to gender issues. (Though, if anyone needs a refresher, I will gladly give it.) I want to discuss the state of feminism.

We need to talk. *Pats seat beside her*

1. The patriarchy is bad. Inequality is bad. Some men are bad. Some men are very very good. Some men are insecure douche bags and need to have their ass kicked by a woman, but many men are well meaning. I think most of us understand this, but we are still trying to shake off the stigma of ball-snatching, man hating bitches. Maybe some of our focus should switch to educating, instead of just fighting.

2. We are doing half of “their” jobs for them. Women can be evil to each other, and we judge the hell out of each other. We need to stop. We want the same things; the right to be what we chose, be it a CEO or a stay at home mom. All facets of womanhood are beautiful, and we need to learn to embrace them. This goes double for mommies. You guys can be sharks at a time when you need each other most. Life can be a fight. No one is making it out alive. It is time to start helping each other.

3. We need to take the power of “their” slurs from them. Rock the Slut Vote is a brilliant movement fighting the war on women and demonstrates what I am talking about. Slut is hurled at us to degrade and marginalize us. I say we take it, along with words like bitch and whore, and use them like the middle finger. We give them the power. It is time to take it away.

4. Be kind. This relates back to number two. As a society, we look at kindness and nurturing as a weakness. We hold ideals of ‘survival of the fittest’ on a pedestal. So much of what is beautiful about humans, especially women, is soft and warm. We have to stop looking at it as a weakness. It feeds into the bullshit about everything female is weak and inferior. (Seriously, Kathleen turned me on to Eve Ensler on Ted.com. Go watch.) If we keep worshiping all that is sharp and selfish, our world will eat itself alive. We should be the ones who start the movement back to balance for everyone, not just woman.

5. Go vote! Tell our politicians to get out of our lady bits! While you are out there screaming, though, try and listen some, too. It makes for more progress.

 
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