Apr 16

Upset

Yesterday, someone placed bombs at the finish line of a major American event. These bombs were filled with ball bearings meant to rip through flesh and bone causing maximum damage. They waited to set off the bombs until the largest pack of runners was crossing the finish line, hours after the winners had crossed. Everything was coordinated to cause the most damage and terror possible. It worked.

I’m upset, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with my upset.

I’m an emotional and empathetic person. It is part of what makes me a good friend/daughter/girlfriend/writer/caretaker/human being.  I told my dad what happened yesterday when he got off work and then went to the store. I was so upset in the store, I forgot the main reason I went, and I cried on the way home. It doesn’t make me weak or stupid. It makes me human.

I still don’t know what to do with the upset. I want to call the Viking and make him listen to me cry, because he is my safe place. Tonight, perhaps, I will do that. Chances are I will write through my thoughts on my blue legal pads were my scratch thoughts go. I won’t stop trying to feel.

I can say I learned/realized somethings about people and social media.

My very first instinct after reading the new reports was to go to Facebook. It is the easiest connection to those I care about, and I needed connection right then.

I have spent a lot of my social media life rolling my eyes at things people do on Facebook. ‘If we get one million likes’ or ‘good Americans/Christians/Atheists/moose lovers will repost this, but 98% of your friends won’t be brave enough to’ posts are still obnoxious. There are still people being fake on Facebook and attention whore. It is just like real life.

What I learned to stop rolling my eyes at are genuine posts from people with things like “Pray for Boston” or “Thoughts for Boston.” I used to think these posts were as useless as tits on a boar hog. I felt they were grandstanding, trying to show how good the person is. Some of these posts still are. Other people, though, post these things because they don’t know how else to say “I’m hurting, and I need connection.” Being confused, hurt, or scared isn’t weakness. It is being human.

I saw a lot of the opposite end of the spectrum, too. I saw a lot of posts basically calling people idiots for writing about being scared, hurt, or confused. I really wanted to lash out on these posts. Yes, bad things happen all over the world every day; many with greater damage than what happened yesterday. Yes, your prayers and thoughts don’t regrow limbs or pay for medical bills. Yes, many of these people posting things right now won’t do anything “useful” to help the victims. They do show others of us that we are hurting, and sometimes, when you are a weird overly empathetic girl in  Oklahoma on the verge of tears because you don’t know what to do with your upset, seeing you are not alone does a lot of good.

Oh, I wanted to lash out, and I did a little. Then I got to thinking.

Cynicism is another way of coping. The world is a scary, dark, dangerous place if you look too hard at  only the wrong things. There is no such thing as truly being safe. You never know what is going to happen, and we have no control over anything but ourselves. Bad things happen on both big and little scales every moment of every day. It is scary as shit. Sometimes, people find the best way to deal with it is to armor themselves against it. They wrap themselves in logic and a mild disdain for the world. I get it now, and I can’t begrudge them that any more than they can begrudge me saying “I’m hurting, is there anyone else out there?”

I also learned something else. A few weeks back, I changed my profile picture and that of the site’s Facebook pace to the pink and red equal signs. It was a profoundly useless gesture. The Supreme Court isn’t going to look at Facebook and change their opinions. No politician or homophobic is going to see my little pink and red picture and see the light. It’s not going to happen. You know what did happen though? I saw my friends list become a field of pink and red equals signs, and I realized how many of my friends are with me on something I believe in. I felt a part of something. It won’t change the world, but it did bolster me. I don’t consider it totally useless.

(Yes, I know that is self-serving and narcissistic, but everyone is, we just like to pretend we aren’t. If it helps me, and it helps someone else, then  it does serve a purpose.)

 

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Apr 09

Odd and Ends

I present, for your entertainment, the shit my wonderful boyfriend has to put up with.

This is why you should feel sorry for my boyfriend. I'm weird AND I post screen shots of my conversation madness.

This is why you should feel sorry for my boyfriend. I’m weird AND I post screen shots of our conversations.

 

So, I don’t have enough coherent thoughts to make a cohesive blog, so I’m going to give you some odds and ends of my life lately.

First, because of a conversation I had with myself on the way home from the Super Wal-Mart, I just Googled “Do people eat giraffes?” I suspected they did, but I just wanted to be sure. Giraffes might be poison meat. Why was I thinking about eating giraffes you might ask. No? You weren’t asking yourself that? I’mma tell you anyway. I was thinking about how the Rothschild giraffe being named after the white dood who “discovered” it. I was laughing about that in my head because I’m pretty sure people were eating them well before Lord Rothschild walked up on them. (Apparently, he was a pretty big deal in the zoological world, but my point still stands.)

Today I had the house to myself so I turned off the television. Turning off the television is about my favorite thing to do with a television. I sat in my quiet living room and had a think. My favorite think to do in a quiet living room is think thoughts. I began wondering if we are losing that ability as a species. Sometimes I love to sit and think. I love electronics. My cellphone and Kindle are extensions of my soul, and I might be willing to give up an extraneous organ or two for my computer, but sometimes I love sitting with out anything to keep my attention busy. I was having a grand ole think about how the modern era is destroying our attention spans and our ability to interact with the world. Then I realized I sounded like a prick to even myself and moved on.

I have another weird internal debate. I know some women who flip out when men open doors for them or pay for dinner. They feel like it is degrading them. I don’t see it. I’ll be the first person to admit, for a staunch feminist (Tina’s descriptor, not mine), I’m oddly traditional. When anyone holds open the door for me, I see it as a kindness, not as a sign they think I’m too weak to do it myself. I hold open the door for all manner of folks out of respect and/or kindness. The Viking and I have a game I love. He unlocks and opens my car door and I get in and rush to unlock his door for him before he gets to it. It melts me that he opens the car door for me sometimes, and I love trying to show him the little bit of consideration of unlocking his door. I think that is part of what helps happiness in relationships, caring enough to do the small things for the other person.

I got to thinking today that I might be missing something in the door thing, though. I really don’t think so, but if I am, please tell me.

Anyway, taters precious…

 

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Apr 02

Nothing to See Here

Happiness is a pile of long, short dogs.

Happiness is a pile of long, short dogs.

So, I’m still happy and content like I was last post. Things are still kind of normal, well as normal as they get. I am feeling really really boring. If I reached I could find something to rant about (I went off on George R. R. Martin’s female characters on a friends Facebook page), but I don’t feel like it. I feel like enjoying this bit of calm. It makes me a miserably boring blogger but a happy person.

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Mar 30

Taking Stock

Screw Y'all I'm DONE

Screw Y’all I’m DONE

So, I’m drinking apple ale and eating Hershey’s Cookies and Cream Easter egg thingies.  Aside from allergies, life is good. It, unfortunately leaves me with nothing to write about. I’m kinda stoked about that. If I’ve missed blog days in the past three months it as either because something was exploding or I was so depressed I didn’t want to write. Okay, Okay, that is a bit of an exaggeration. There were several days in there when I was busy for good things.

All of that is beside the point. I’m happy. I’ve had a string of happy days. Yes, the past two days I have been to the Super Wal-mart both days, and it was a MAD HOUSE. I haven’t done much writing. I made the mistake of starting one of my favorite trilogies of all times (The Tawny Man by Robin Hobb), and I’m having issues pulling away from that. I’ve decided to stop trying, finish the last book and a half, and then pick a less interesting book to read next time.

If I were really, super honest with myself, I would admit a lot of my happy and distraction is because of the Viking. A year ago tomorrow, I was having an incredible day with my friend Renee, first at the the medieval fair then at our friend Angela’s baby shower. Somewhere in that day of awesome, I told Renee I was giving up on men, shutting down my Plenty of Fish profile because only creeps had messaged me, and focus full force on my writing. That night the most incredible and strangest man in the world favorited me  on the site and I messaged him. My life hasn’t been the same since. I know, I know, sappy as hell.

Next Saturday, I’m spending the day with Renee and my goddaughter at the medieval fair again. My relationship with Renee is another strange and wonderful thing. I love her dearly, and I have for many years. We see each other four times a year, at most. We talk on the phone maybe once or twice a year. Most of our communication is done on Facebook. But, even with our sporadic contact, our friendship stays strong. Our relationship is like a rock we can always return to and find an ease and comfort of someone who knows you and cares deeply for you without recriminations.  I’m just really looking forward to seeing her again. Maybe I won’t get a sunburn this time.

I think right now I’m going to take a deep breath and take inventory of all of the good in my life. I’ve been so focused on what I’ve had to do or what I was doing wrong or what was going wrong, I had a hard time being genuinely grateful. Sometimes, it is impossible to be grateful to your core.  Sometimes it is impossible to even pretend to be grateful at all. I know this, but I also know I’m happier when I can find it in me.

I know, well when I’m calm I know, I have a life filled with strange and wonderful blessing and strange and wonderful people. Things will get stressful, and I will forget. I hope I will always find a way to remember though.

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Mar 28

That’s About It

Required monthly corgi: the look of betrayal on her face!

Required monthly corgi: the look of betrayal on her face!

There are only two things on my mind right now: writing and gay rights.

I really, really want to write about gay rights but I feel like I have been too ranty lately. Oh well, I’m going to do it anyway.

Here is the it of it: there is no logical, legal reason to ban gay marriage. Every single argument against gay marriage boils down to ‘I think it’s weird and icky.’

Marriage is not a purely Christian institution. I know several non-Christians who are married. The main stream pro-gay marriage movement has no desire to force churches to perform same sex marriages. Same sex couples simply want the ability to get a legal marriage and be afforded the same rights everyone else has. If there is ever a movement towards the government forcing churches to perform same sex marriage, I will protest just as loudly as I am now.

I’m not going to argue with anybody about the legitimacy of believing homosexuality is wrong. Except for a certain few people in my life, I can care less if you think same sex relationships are wrong. The truth is it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to argue semantics or doctrine or anything else. Believe what you want. Do not take away the rights of others because of your beliefs.

We live in the United States of America. We have the Constitution and a Bill of Rights. The very first amendment of our Constitution promises freedom of religion. Anyone who believes gay marriage is wrong is perfectly free to not get gay married, but they do not have the right to force their religious beliefs on others.

I make this point because every single argument I have ever heard against same sex marriage is religious based.

Denying people basic human rights based on religion is not American. Giving people their basic rights does not take away from yours.

To sum up:

Hate gay people all you want. No one really cares as long as you don’t  infringe on other people’s rights and freedoms.

Just no.

 

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Mar 27

Ebb and Flow

Oh, my, what a sexy sexy banana

Oh, my, what a sexy sexy banana

Well, so, my life has been in some level of upheaval since the middle of December, and shit went totally crazy in February (an odd freaking word), but I’ve decided things are starting to return to normal. I’m not entirely sure this is based on fact, but I’m rolling with it anyway.

I’ve decided my role in this part of my family’s life is to be the relentlessly optimistic one. I have to believe things will return to normal and everything will be okay. The alternatives range from scary as shit to straight up terrifying. I don’t even want to look those in the face, especially since there isn’t anything I can do to prevent them. I feel the beginnings of a panic attack at just skimming the surface of those ideas. So, I’ve decided not to borrow trouble and be positive. I wave at the tight knot of fear in my heart and push forward.

I don’t know if this is the best plan. I don’t know if it is the healthiest way to handle it. It’s what I’m doing until I further notice. (I think I just realized I still have a lot more unresolved emotions about what happened to my father than I thought.)

Okay, anyway, aside from that random last bit of crazy, things feel much happier. I am madly in love. I’m so madly in love it is kind of ridiculous. I feel a little like I’ve taken leave of my senses. It’s a bit like having normal emotions and turning them up to 11. (Tina will get the reference.) It’s wonderful and slightly terrifying, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Never before could I imagine how it feels to have someone so truly incredible think I’m incredible too. He doesn’t like me in spite of all of those flaws I list in my head (crazy, fat, insecure, awkward); he just accepts these things as part of me and cares about the whole bizarre package. Its like waking up one day and seeing color. We are almost a year together, and I still haven’t lost my wonder at it all. I have a sneaking suspicion that it will always visit me through out the rest of my life.

I hope that I’m writing again regularly. Every time recently I feel like I’m going to get back to it, something happens. Last week it was gross bronchitis. I lost my voice for several days. My parents were in heaven. I sat down to write last night and found everything else to do but write. I ran through all of the little inner demons and all of the internet. I finally forced myself to start. Those first 50-100 words are the hardest, but after that things get easier. Sometimes moving those fingers for those first words take a lot of effort.

I don’t know what happens next in life. I’m hoping for normalcy.  I feel like I’m finding my footing again. I don’t know how long it will last. I need to keep trying though. Just keep swimming, right?

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Mar 19

Where Do We Go From Here?

So, Steubenville

Yes, I’m writing about Steubenville. I know everyone is writing about Steubanville right now. Good. I hope we keep writing about it, keep thinking about it, and trying to puzzle out the jumbled mess it tells us about society.

Why are we all so focused on this one particular event? Women, men, and children are sexually assaulted everyday, and the nation blurs by them with little notice(not right, not right). What does that say about us? What ugly mirror did this hold up to us?

I’m seeing a phrase everywhere for the first time; rape culture. I’m apparently a staunch feminist, so I had seen it before, but I’ve never seen such a dialogue about it. Good. We need to talk about it.

We need to get pissed about the news coverage. We need to get mad about how the case was handled. We need to be abhorred by the fact we are a society in which this would happen.

Time for me to piss everyone off. I’m not mad this was handled in juvenile court. Teenagers are not adults, nor are they known for their fabulous decision making skills. I’m not saying the assailants are not responsible for what they did. I don’t think the crime is any less horrific because teenagers committed it. I think we should focus less on the sentences and more on how the hell everything went so wrong.

Where were the adults? How did they get all of this alcohol? Why didn’t somebody step in?

How do we help stop it from happening again?

How do we fix our rape culture?

This conversation needs to stop being the realm of mostly women. We need to bring in men and welcome them. I’ve noticed sometimes men get very defensive when we discuss rape, abuse, or gender equality. I have many wonderful, truly good men in my life, but sometimes I have to explain I’m not attacking them, I’m trying to discuss this aspect of male/female interaction. These are good men who fight just as hard everyday for a better society simply by being there. How do we bring them into an open dialogue without everything getting in the way.

Some writers get pissed about attitudes like mine. They call me an apologist. Men should accept the fact there is a patriarchy, and it needs to be fixed. We shouldn’t ‘baby’ them when they have all of the power. A) Bullshit. B) Communication is nearly impossible when people are defensive, and we desperately need communication.

These are complicated ideas and problems. We have to figure it out though if we want to progress. We want simple answers, but there aren’t any. (Okay, things like don’t rape are pretty simple.) How do we describe the difference between the feeling when a respectful man makes a move on us, and when it feels predatory?  How do we convey that when a man keeps pushing attention on us, we feel like prey? How do we instill that women are partners, friends, mates not something to be conquered or acquired?  How do we teach our sons to be better men, and our daughters to be better women?

I don’t know. I have none of these answers, but I still have hope that when we ask these questions of ourselves we make things better.

 

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Mar 15

Is It Supposed to Do That?

I am officially the most disgusting human being on earth, and it is because of horny plants.

I never really understood the big deal about allergies when I was younger until about three or four years ago. Now I get it.

Allergies are big, flaming, bag of douche. Just like horny teenagers punish the world with their stupid antics, horny plants are driving my head bat shit crazy.

I’m constantly oozing from either my nose or my eyes. The eye ooze is not just tears, like I foolishly used to think, but it is some sort of gross mix of tears and quick dry cement. It builds up on my lashes in the night that some morning I have to put a wet cloth on my eyes for a few minutes to un-rubber cement them.  I also didn’t know the human body could create this much snot. I feel like I should just tie a towel under my nose to save effort and trees. “Oh, this? This is my snot towel. I’m reducing my carbon foot-print because I love polar bears… served with barbecue sauce.” hahahahaha Okay, in my defense, I am trying to find that line between enough anti-histamines and altered consciousness or overdose.

I had to go to Sam’s Club in Norman today. (My dad decided it had to be done today, so, yeah.) I kept pulling out napkins from my pocket and trying to stem the faucets. Old people kept giving me dirty looks. I wanted to yell “HAVEN’T YOU SEEN THE PLAGUE BEFORE?” even though I think some of them were around for the crusades. I can’t breathe through my nose long enough to take my temperature. I also think I broke my left ear. Last night I was waiting for my eardrum to pop while fighting the urge just to stab the motherfucker with a pen. It is better today.

Ugh.

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Mar 12

Adventuring

So, I know it has been like a week since I posted. Thursday I was even more done than I was on Tuesday. I was tired of writing about being about being stressed out, tired, and not being able to write. I was at my snapping point. I love my family, but I needed a break. I need a break so bad, my mom asked me to call Tina Thursday night to see if I could go up there for a few days. (“Selina, I think you are just very close to killing one of us.”) Friday, after I drove Dad all over Chickasha but got a new monitor out of the deal, I ended up at Tina’s house.

Friday night, Tina and I ended up at a thing called The Second Friday with her little brother and his girlfriend. Apparently, on the second Friday of every month, the shops around the Plaza area stay open late, and the street musicians, performers, and food trucks come out. I felt distinctly old and uncool. Okay, I’m not going to lie, the whole thing was pretty damn hipster, but it was hipster in the best way possible. It was hipster in the “lets do something new and cool and try to be a community” and not in the “we are too cool for everyone else, let’s smoke cigarettes, drink bad beer, and talk about vinyl.” One of the things I love about Oklahoma is that we have these wonderful pockets of freak that you can accidentally stumble into.

Kyle, Tina’s super cool little brother, took us into this building called The Society. It seems to be a space for all kinds of artists to get together. There was some man singing and playing guitar. I have no idea who it was, but his voice was different from what we normally hear, but in a good way.  On the wall, behind some bottles, hung a painting that made me almost cry. It is the first painting under 2007. Tina and I stared for a few minutes, but we moved on. When we were walking away from the building, Kyle mentioned the artist was there, and I made everyone go back.

When I finally got the artist’s attention, I started to try talk to him about this piece back in a corner, but instead I started to cry like a crazy person. I mean, it was almost the ugly cry. I was trying to explain how it was the perfect visual representation of the last two years of my life, but I’m pretty sure in my weird crying eloquence it was more “me like pretty picture.” The artist, Jerrod Smith, was very kind… and a little surprised. He was wonderful. Go visit his sites and go into his gallery.

Also, if you see, read, or hear something that moves you, tell the person who created it. Some people will be douche bags and treat you like you are crazy, but most will be happy they connected with someone. That is the reason so many artist do things, is to create a connection with others. I won’t pretend to be an artist. I don’t feel like an artist. I barely feel like a writer; I just claim it because saying “I run errands for my parents” makes me sound like too much like a loser. I do know finding out something I write means something to someone matters.  Real artists put their soul out their in their different mediums, no mater how strange, in hopes someone will see it and go, “I see that, and I know what it means. I see that and I see you.”

Speaking of which, go check out Lunar Baboon for some awesome, sweet, funny, smart webcomics written by a Canadian school teacher.

Anyway, Friday night and Tina showing me Amanda Palmer’s new Ted talk has got my mind going again. I have many things brewing in my brain again. It might come to something, it might not. Who knows.

Thanks for sticking with me through everything. I will try to keep showing you, if you guys want to keep looking.

 

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Mar 05

Apple Ale, Apple Juice, What’s the Difference?

My stress levels are still ridiculous. I thought it was going to get better, but it turns out I’m a sucker.

I decided to drink tonight. I probably shouldn’t blog while drinking apple ale, but, whateva.

If I can relax enough to be able to slip back into the world of my book, I’ll write tonight. I had several really good days of writing and planning, but yesterday was just kind of meh. I think I might have turned my brain a bit gooey.

Honestly, it’s more that I don’t have the emotional energy some days to write. Its more than the stage fright or the anxiety, it is some days I feel like I am trying to run through mud to be positive. By the time I sit down at night I have put up with so much bullshit I’m too tired to try and focus. Some days, like today, I get so pissed that I’m slogging through bullshit that I explode a little. The batteries that run my creativity and my positive attitude are running low.

My allergies are up. My house is a constant hotbed of stress.  I feel like I’m slogging through bullshit alone because of stuff with my parents. I’m worn out. I am straight up worn out.

I know other people put up with a lot more with a lot less. I get that. I get that I am a big ole whiner pants.

Also, my feet are ugly, and I am giving up on my sugar fast thing. Maybe right now isn’t the time to try and make drastic changes in my diet.  I failed… for now.

mmmmm apple ale

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