Why We're Fighting

Some days, days like today, all I want to do is curl up on my couch and cry and hide and hug my wife.  Apparently in Missouri, a gay man was arrested for trying to see his partner in the hospital.  The sick man's family didn't want him there, and the nurse refused to look at the power of attorney papers they had.  He was handcuffed and removed from the hospital.  Now he can't return at all because the hospital has placed him under a restraining order.  You can read the full story here.

I am constantly told by straight people, both ally and enemy to the gay community, that full marriage is not required.  That we have the capability of being just as protected as any hetero couple out there if we just have the correct legal papers in order.  Well, here's a newsflash for those who agree with that idea:

THEY HAD THE LEGAL PAPERS IN ORDER.

One more time in case you didn't quite understand:

THEY HAD THE FUCKING PAPERS IN ORDER AND STILL WERE NOT PROTECTED.

Regardless of the fact that Obama signed something "guaranteeing" that we would not have to deal with situations like this, apparently we still do.  Full legal marriage would prevent things like this.  A stack of papers "simulating" marital status does not.  This poor man just wanted to see his partner, who was lying sick in the hospital, probably just wondering where his partner was.  There is no telling what the stupid family told him about the absence.  They were obviously not the most supportive of the relationship from what I can tell.

THIS is why we keep fighting for marriage. Not civil unions or domestic partnerships, but full, protected marriage.  Yes, we take these lesser items when offered because any protection is better than none at all.  I will sure as hell be in line May 1 when Leon County, Florida starts letting us register as domestic partners.  We need the protection.  Just last year my partner had to have a surgical procedure, and I damn near gave myself an ulcer being terrified and worried that if (Goddess forbid) something happened I would be denied access and decision making ability.  That her family, which is 6 hours away and Jehovah's Witness affiliated, would be the only ones allowed to choose what happened.  I live my life this terrified.  What if I get hurt at work or somewhere, and they don't let her in to see me or make decisions for me?  What if...what if...what if... 

I'm tired as hell of living life terrified.  I decided long ago that my orientation and relationship were not secrets to be hidden.  I have not once changed a pronoun or deferred a conversation because I was worried about the consequences.  I am proud to be who I am, and I am certainly proud to be with my awesome wife of 15 years.  She's amazing and beautiful and brilliant and wonderfully geeky, but my pride will not protect us.  It will not grant either of us the power to control decisions if the worst happens.  And apparently neither will those papers of approximation. Think about that the next time you want to tell me a union or partnership or talk with a lawyer will be enough.    

On Gaps in Posting

So, I've been away. For a while. Work has exhausted me to the point of not being able to think clearly, and the blog has suffered unfortunately. Let me catch you up:

1. The biggest news is that I have had an essay accepted for publication in an anthology! It's basically my final project from Nonfiction last spring about OCD, and the anthology, It's All in Her Head, will be out in Spring 2013 from Seal Press. More news as I receive it.

2. I've been working my ass off at Scholastic book fairs packing the fairs for schools. If your kids go to a school in north Florida or extreme south Georgia, I've probably packed the fair that landed in their school library. Excellent company to work for, though I am wiped out at the end of the day. Many interesting thoughts about books and reading due to being there, which will come later as I try to get this poor neglected blog back on the rails.

3. I've been sporadically guest blogging at Queer Mental Health, and just this evening, I also guest blogged at Vocal Youth, which is run by my amazing friend A'ishah.

4. Lastly, for now, I have submitted my application for grad school--this time to the MFA program at FSU. Failing that (after I have my mental break and attempt hari kari), I'll put in for the library science program. More news on that as I receive it as well.

Other than that, I've been reading like a mad bastard. My profile at GoodReads will attest to that, and hopefully I will be blogging reviews again soon. For all those two or three of you that read this, sorry for the neglect, and I hope to have this thing going again soon. Peace!

Mad Clippers: The Truth Behind (Some) Extreme Couponing

Okay, my friends all know I am in love with coupons. I clip the Sunday paper, troll online sites, email companies, etc. in order to get them. We are broke and both of us have been since we can remember. My mother was a crazy coupon lady. On a trip to Harvey's once, she paid under $10 for over $200 worth of groceries. I'm still impressed. My own shopping trips haven't gotten quite as awesome, but I do all right. I get things for free occasionally, and I get things for damn near free a lot of the time. However, I don't do coupons for the fun of it. Sure, I get a kick out of it, but that isn't the point. The point is to make sure we can afford the groceries and household items we need every week.

So, where in the world is this headed, you ask. I finally found a site online to watch TLC's Extreme Couponing, and I am, for the most part, I am horrified. Some of the people are awesome. One guy bought an insane amount of hba items (like around 200 toothpastes, etc.), but turned around and donated a ton to deployed soldiers. One woman did the same with food items, but donated over half to a food bank. Those I get. Those I think are awesome. However, even they have something in common with the others that makes me livid: the stockpile.

All of the people profiled on the show have stockpiles that take over garages, rooms, closets, you name it. Some of the families are large, so a reasonable stockpile makes sense. Buy 50 bottles of shampoo for nothing or near it, and you don't have to worry about it for a while. BUT they don't just buy it like that. One man had a literal wall of toothpaste which he was stockpiling for his 4 person family. There is no way they will be able to use a fraction of that before he buys more. One woman has hundreds of packages of diapers in her garage that she got basically for free, but she has no kids! She is neither married nor dating anyone with whom she is planning on having a child anytime soon. She simply bought them and stored them for "the future." While it makes sense in a way, it just seems excessive and wasteful to me. If I had the space and money to spend, I would do the crazy coupons for those things and donate them, but I don't. My "stockpile" might be 2 or 3 bottles of the same shampoo when I didn't need it yet but which I spent maybe 50 cents on. The difference is that I won't buy anymore shampoo until that is gone.

This whole thing aggravates the hell out of me. I have nothing against saving money; it's wonderful. However, this is no longer actually doing that. The diaper woman was shown buying Mylanta or a similar product which she admittedly never uses, but she couldn't pass it up because it was such a good deal. A "good deal" is one that saves you money on an item you use. It would be like me going out and buying 20 boxes of pregnancy tests to keep in my stockpile because they were extremely cheap. I have no use for them, so any money I spent on them is automatically wasted. Therefore, not a good deal. *sigh*

All of this is not to say that all extreme couponers are like this. On the contrary, there were a few who simply built up items their families needed without being ridiculous about it. Anything over their own need that they got for free or spent pennies on, they donated or gave to extended family. Those are good deals. What these other people are doing? Well, compare an episode of that show to Hoarders, and the only difference you are likely to see is how neatly the items are contained. They are simply escaping the stigma and label by throwing up a shield of coupons and being on a different show. Just sayin...

Fun with OCD: My Top 5 OCD Household Items

I don't usually do blog posts like this, as this is not a shopping blog, but as I was washing dishes this evening (an inordinate number for just two people, in my opinion), I was thinking about all the awesome things on the market that make me as an OCD person happy. Some of the following we own, and some I covet and hope to own eventually. So, sit back and enjoy my top 5 OCD household items.

#1: The OCD Chef Cutting Board

This is the newest item on my "I want that" list. Naturally antibacterial, allows my chopping to be perfectly even, and it even has OCD in the title. How can you lose. Can be bought here. Thank you, ThinkGeek!

#2: Rachel Ray Gusto-Grip Basics Knives

Now, these we actually own, thanks to some leftover financial aid money when we moved into this apartment. In addition to being awesomely sharp and matching our kitchen colors, the handles are non-slip (important for klutzes like me) and anti-microbial, as all knife handles should be. Can be bought here and other places, I'm sure.

#3: The No-Pot Coffee Maker

I don't generally like coffee, but my lovely wife does. And on the rare occasions we stay in hotels, it always bugged the crap outta me when she would use the in-room coffee pot. Now, I'm not saying all hotel housekeepers are lax with the cleaning. However, I've worked at a hotel, and I know that some are much more stringent than others. So not all hotel room coffee pots are really clean. Imagine my delight the first time we stayed in a hotel whose in-room coffee makers had no pot! You use these little packets of coffee, and it dispenses directly into your cup. Brilliant! (I couldn't find a pic of the one I was looking for, and I'm not sure where they can be bought by the public. Sorry.)

#4: The Premier Anti-Bacterial Toothbrush

Until last year, I found myself unable to use the same toothbrush twice. I would buy the multi-packs at Dollar Tree every week, and toss after using. As you can imagine, even buying these at the Dollar Tree got a little pricey. Then one day while perusing the travel section of the health and beauty aids department at Wal-Mart, I found a wonderful thing: the Premier Anti-Bacterial Travel Toothbrush. The bristles themselves are anti-bacterial, which is supposed to last the standard three months. (I don't quite trust that because I'm me, so I buy a new one every 2 and a half months.) At about $2, they are certainly cheaper than my previous toothbrush habit, and I don't have to carry the ecological guilt either.

#5: Mr. Clean Magic Eraser

No matter how much you clean some stuff with regular cleaners, there are stains. Enter the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. You wet this thing and scrub at the stain...voila! no more stain. I love these so much; they were especially wonderful when moving into a new place. I have no idea how they work, and I don't wanna know. It's probably of alien origin.

That's all for now. Maybe I'll do my favorite OCD products for carrying about next time...

Step Right Up!: (Reluctantly) Weighing in on the Casey Anthony Circus

I cannot believe I'm writing this blog. I have ignored the entire Casey Anthony debacle as much as possible, and I wouldn't even have known they reached a verdict had every news source not been blasting it. Of course, as soon as the verdict was read, Facebook blew up. In fact, there are already two of those re-postables in honor of the little girl going around, after only about 45 minutes. By the way, this post is probably going to piss some people off, just to warn you.

First of all, I am making no judgments on whether she did or did not kill her daughter. I was not there. I did not see anything, was not present in the courtroom to see evidence or hear testimony, nor do I even know any of the people involved even remotely. Therefore, I have no reason to think my judgments would be correct. If she did do it, she should have been punished, though the death penalty would never have been reasonable in my opinion. If she didn't, I'm glad she was acquitted.

I am not writing this to yell and scream about her not guilty verdict. Nor am I writing it to proclaim her innocence. As I said, who am I to say? I was not on her jury. What this is about is the public response to the whole mess. Since it began, the public has been collectively losing its mind over this case. Yes, it is sad that a small child died. Is she the only one that died at that time? No. Is she the only one who died under odd circumstances? No. Do I think that if she had been a child of color or someone much poorer the media would have jumped on this? No. The Casey Anthony circus reminds me a great deal of the Jon Benet Carnival several years back, and I have the same opinions about that mess as well.

I continue to be depressed and aggravated by my fellow human beings. You would think the woman had come into their homes and murdered their child from the tone and comments. The comment (from Facebook, of course) that bothered me the most was: "I have never been so disappointed or disgusted with our legal system." Really? Never? Not once? While I do believe that murder is a serious and terrible offence, this particular case is certainly not one that made me lose faith in the legal system. That happened years and years ago and continues to happen repeatedly. Rapists walk the streets, women are still forced to pay for their own rape kits in some areas, children are taken away from loving parents because of sexual preference, a homeless man is given years in prison for stealing $100 because he was hungry (which he later returned on the grounds that "he was raised better") yet a person who steals billions (literally) in corporate America is given mere months, Leonard Peltier is still in prison, poor people and people of color are disproportionately jailed for minor offences that the wealthy and white continually get away with....

So, do I mourn the fact that a young life was ended, possibly violently? Of course, but I also mourn the thousands who die homeless and hungry, who are killed by bullets and bombs in idiotic wars, who suffer needlessly everyday. The point is that if the Casey Anthony case is the first thing that made you question the justice of our legal system or anything else in this world, you have not been paying attention.

Freaking Right on Out: OCD Deluxe Pays a Visit

Today has been the first really bad day since I stopped my meds. I mean, yeah, my usual twitches and tics have been poking me repeatedly, but I haven't had one of those "my brain is being shaken" days up till now. For some reason, when I woke up this morning, my insanity decided today was an excellent time to come out and play.

So, I put away all the clean clothes from yesterday and washed dishes (normal), and then I refolded everything in the dresser (not normal). All of it, underwear drawer and all. Yes, it meant I got to use my flip-n-fold, which as we all know is one of the Goddess' greatest gifts, but seriously? I made myself sit down for a bit so I could eat some lunch and play Zombie Lane (I had pumpkins to harvest after all.), and of course, I'm writing this. However, the entire time I have been quietly losing my shit and trying to figure out what else I can do. Too much more of this and there may be drastic things done to hair out of sheer insane need to do SOMETHING. On another meds-related note, I am still having DT's. Joy.

"But I might need that later!": Ramblings of a Minor Hoarder with a Semi-Clean Closet

Guess what? I cancelled my last appointment with the head shrinker, and I quit taking my meds a little over a month ago. This was less a conscious decision about my distrust of the medical and therapeutic professions (though those do exist) than a reality check about the fact that I am still unemployed and my FSU health insurance runs out in August. (Of course, I have been having the attendant weirdness that comes along with dropping things like Zoloft cold turkey; the insomnia, general discombobulation, and minor hallucinations have been the worst.) Anyway, this means that I have been dealing with my OCD symptoms all by my little lonesome (as Mema used to say), and it has not been pretty. I've had some pretty gnarly mood swings from the manic depression, and my poor brain once again feels like it's being shaken around quite a bit. However, there's not a lot I can do about this. There are, as my former therapist mentioned, low-income helpers for people like me, but I've been through that before. It is not as easy or as helpful as she thinks it is, unfortunately, and I'm sure my low SES buddies with similar probs can back me up on that one.

In any case, the last few weeks have been exceedingly stressful, and all of this has been pushed to the front of my long line of worries/concerns lately. Today's particular mental discussion panel covered my relatively low-grade hoarding (partially because of a friend's blog, which can be seen HERE). A few weeks ago, Anna and I finally tackled the closet. Now, that may sound simple, but as my faithful readers will attest, not so. The last time was nightmarish (as can be seen here, and again here, and one more time in this one), and that closet was minuscule compared to this one. Here we have a walk-in closet, and it was stuffed to the rafters with decorations, clothes, general crap, and also several large plastic tubs from when we raided the storage back home last year. We could barely get in and out to dig up clothes, and a small but noticeable mountain had begun to form in the back. Every time I opened the door, I felt the panic rising, so I knew it had to be done. However, knowing this and actually doing it are two different things. My poor Anna suffered through a two-day ordeal in which I managed to purge WAY more than either of us ever thought would be possible, but still not enough, says the responsible monkey in the back of my mind.

One of my big things is office supplies. I love pens and pencils and notebooks, and if I find them cheap, Katie bar the door. So, when we were purging, you would not believe the number of journals, notebooks, pens, pens, and did I mention pens. Clearance is a beautiful thing just after school starts in the fall, and so very many places hand out free pens. I had at least 20 of one particular free pen. No joke. But I cleared 'em out. I still have a drawer with a basket o' pens, and there's a storage bin under the bed with a good number of journal and notebooks type lovely things; but all in all, I did good. I got rid of a lot of random crap I had been hanging onto for no discernible reason, and a good (if dusty and panic-stricken) time was had by all. Friends dug through some of it like ferrets, and then a junk-buying lady from craigslist took the rest. We were both quite proud of me.

BUT, and there is always a but when my OCD is involved, I still think I could have done better. At the same time, I know that if I had gotten rid of too much more, my brain would likely have liquefied and come gushing out my ears. I did well considering my issues surrounding stuff in general, but today I sat looking at our bookshelves thinking that I intentionally avoided them. Yes, we do purge them every so often because our apartment is too small to support the book habit we have had for so long. But school enabled me to hang onto extra books--"I'll need them later." I would say, and most of the time, I would be absolutely right. I used them for papers and my thesis, and was proven absolutely right. Now that I'm effectively thrown out into the world, I can't really claim that for a chunk of them. Oh, I plan on getting into a grad school eventually (I hope) and continuing some of my research interests, so a part of them need to stay right where they are. There are others, though, that I know I will likely never use again, and if I do, it will be years and years away, making the space worth more than the money I might save by not buying it again later. Other books are simply hanging around because I love them. I won't get rid of certain things EVER, but some are peeping around double stacks of overflow and I know I will likely never read them again despite the fact that they were wonderful or entertaining. But I panic worse at getting rid of books than almost anything else in the world.

And so, you are wondering, where is she headed with this long, rambling post? I absolutely hate the hoarding part of me. She drives me nuts when she starts mumbling about "keep this. We might need it later." and "For Goddess' sake, don't throw that out!" I know I don't need fourteen of the same pen or every single cute notebook I see. In fact, since I am floating in a non-academic limbo right now, I don't even have an excuse to buy them anyway. But I still do it. I still see stuff and want to take it home when I know that a) we don't have room and b) it serves no purpose at all. As many hoarders do, I say it's collecting, and some of it is; but not nearly all of it. Another case of I know it's nuts, but I can't do a damn thing about it. I'm staring at a row of binders stuffed full of articles, and hoarder Dawn is whispering, "don't even think about it. We'll need those later."

Book Life 15: Deep South Musings

I can always tell when I am the most homesick. The radio stays tuned to country, and my reading list tends to be filled with books somehow attached to Alabama or the South in general. Case in point: Confederates in the Attic and The Devil Amongst the Lawyers.

Confederates in the Attic: Dispatches from the Unfinished Civil War by Tony Horwitz

Despite my upbringing in the Heart of Dixie, I have never been a Civil War buff. In fact, I tend to ignore it as much as possible for sheer annoyance factor. Once you've listened to your paranoid, racist stepfather discuss the technicalities of Pickett's Charge or why the CSA should never have lost this or that battle ad nauseam, you start to hate the topic. That being said, I've always been fascinated by the obsession with the War Between the States, or "War of Northern Aggression" depending on who it is you're talking with, and the people who are basically knee-deep in it 24-7. Horwitz was as well, and wrote this fabulous book. My first concern when I pick up any book about the South is how the author is treating it, especially if they themselves are not from the South. I shouldn't have worried about this one. Horwitz does the near impossible in that he manages to give a fair view of some of our, shall we say, less-enlightened citizens while describing the rest of us and our home as it is. I don't mean that he's whitewashed over our failings; no, he includes those. However, he also does not sweep in as the city intellectual and talk about the areas he's visiting as Deliverance II. Even if you hate the Civil War, this is worth the read.

The Devil Amongst the Lawyers by Sharyn McCrumb

"There is no more vicious bigot than a city intellectual contemplating someone to whom he feels intellectually or morally superior."

This is the latest of McCrumb's amazing Ballad Novels, set in the Appalachians of Tennesee and the surrounding areas of Virginia and the Carolinas. If you've never read anything of hers, stop reading this right now and go order everything in the Ballad series first, then everything else. Not only are they excellent mysteries, they are addictive as hell. This is the first book I've read in a long while that I could not make myself put down. I read the entire thing (minus the first 50 pages whoch I read before falling asleep sitting up last night) this morning...admittedly not an unusual occurrence for me, but still. McCrumb, like my favorite sci-fi author Octavia E. Butler with feminist problems, manages to work complex issues of poverty and rural life into the narrative without getting preachy or heavy handed. I honestly cannot say enough wonderful things about these novels.

Anyone who knows me (or hell, anyone who's paid attention to this blog) knows that the misrepresentation of the South, particularly the mountain and rural South, is one of my pet projects. Women's Studies failed me on these points, and I abandoned it as a graduate pursuit partially because I could not stand the thought of ramming the topic into conversation for the next 30 or 40 years. More importantly, I had conflicts over this very issue on at least a weekly basis in classes across my particular academic spectrum. (See this blog for the last one of the spring semester.) I honestly don't know what this means for my future in academia. Maybe it's just particularly bad down here in Florida, who knows...All I do know is that I am relieved and overjoyed to find books that don't paint all of us as slack-jawed morons.

Status Updates: A (Very) Short Discussion of Bullying

A 15-year-old girl holds her one-year-old son. People call her a slut. No one knows she was raped at 13. People call a girl fat. No one knows she has a serious disease which causes her to be overweight. People call an old man ugly. No one knows he had a serious injury to his face while fighting for our country during the war. Repost this if you are against bullying and stereotyping.

I've seen the above posted all over Facebook at various times, and I must say I am 100% behind the sentiment. But can we talk about the silent implications of this? The way it is written makes it seem as though it would be perfectly fine to insult these people if the 15-year-old had actually been sleeping around, the girl had an unfortunate attachment to McDonald's fries, or the old man was simply not attractive by current social standards. While I do not mean that solutions to rising teen pregnancy, obesity, etc should not be addressed, it needs to be understood that bullying does not need to be tolerated in any circumstance, whether the social norm deems it "deserved" or not. I don't care why the teenager is pregnant, the girl is larger than people think is okay, or the old man is less attractive than some think he should be--No One Should Be Bullied. Period.

Dispatches from a Refugee in the Land of Privilege, Episode 3: Note to Self, Must Buy Hat

There is something about poverty that smells like death.

--Zora Neale Hurston

For those who know me, it will come as no surprise for me to say that I am broke(n) in many ways , financially being the most salient one of them here. While I do blame certain outside factors on this situation, I want to make it clear (before some irate person jumps all over me) that I do understand that my poor economic skills contribute to the problem. However bad they may be, though, they are not the only cause. Anyway, this blog is being brought to you by a bougey woman at my landlord's office and an article on yahoo...

"My wallet's too small for my fifties, and my diamond shoes are too tight!"

--Chandler Bing

I went in today to pay the rent, which yes, was late, but I called them 2 weeks ago and arranged this. While I was waiting, I wrote out the money order and overheard the receptionist's conversation with another tenant. She was digging in her expensive purse going on and on about her upcoming expensive vacation and the new car they just bought and etc etc etc. Normally, this would be nothing important...everyone here seems to be more affluent than we are, and I am quite used to hearing these sorts of conversations. The problem started when I got to the counter and was talking to her myself. I apologized for being late again and commented that next month's ought to be on time for once (*insert embarrassed laugh*). She decided that was an excellent segway to complaining about how damn hard it is to work where you have to call (poor) people all day to get them to pay their rent. "It really takes it out of you," she said. Now, I'm sure that calling around to ensure payment of rent is one of the least pleasurable portions of her job. I dont' dispute this; it sucks. BUT the fact of the matter is that it is no easier being the person who has to call every other month and beg a few extra days on the rent. Lately, I've begun to feel like I should carry an old fedora in my purse to twist in my hands at appropriate moments. I can assure you, ma'am, as one of those people you have to call sometimes, that our part sucks worse than yours ever will. Here's why: while your job is uncomfortable, it is simply what you are paid to do. Our lot, on the other hand, is to be the perpetually impoverished, begging for understanding from those with more money and power than ourselves. Also, given your tone and demeanor when discussing the topic, you are obviously not among our number, making your little whine-fest the ridiculous ramblings of the privileged. (I do realize that as a receptionist in a real estate office, she is not exactly pulling in six figures here, but can we agree that she is comfortable and no where near the level of most of the people she is complaining about?) I wanted to reach across the counter, grab her by her lapels, and explain loudly and clearly that HELLO, we do not enjoy being poor and late with the rent (or anything else). I'm sure there is some ass out there who has to get an extension on bills because they spend too much partying or some such nonsense...but most of us are simply trying to make it on what we have and do not need your bullshit to make us feel worse about it.

Poverty must not be a bar to learning and learning must offer an escape from poverty.

--Lyndon Johnson

On to the Yahoo article: Apparently a significant portion of college presidents are of the opinion that higher education is so affordable that most students could pay for it themselves (sans loans and grants). Excuse me, but WHAT? Just as an example, let us look at my recent foray into academia. For the first couple of years back, I was paying out of state tuition (because someone in an office was misinformed...) which means I was charged approximately $2000 per class, bringing my total to over $8000 before textbooks and supplies. After the mistake with my residency was cleared up, classes dropped to a little less than $500 each, plus books, etc. I understand that there are people who were raised in families which apparently have this sort of money lying about for just such an occasion, but I am not one of them. The term "college fund" was one of those phrases I associated only with sitcom families (literally), and it was understood that if I was to earn a degree, it would be on scholarships, grants, and federal loans. Otherwise, no college. And while I rant about the privilege that constantly smacks me in the face here, it is not lost on me that I am not alone in my loan-dependence. If the federal loan/grant program was suddenly to be taken away, no one below a certain tax bracket would ever be able to attend college. It's already rare enough for people who grew up similar to myself and others like me to earn a degree without boot stomping our last chances into the pavement.

Poverty is no disgrace to a man, but it is confoundedly inconvenient.

--Sydney Smith

This blog is unusually scattered for me, but I simply have no idea right now what to do with this information. Does this mean that people of my particular socioeconomic class and lower should simply forget college all together? What then? There aren't enough jobs that don't require degrees to go around if you hadn't noticed. And what about the attitudes of those more privileged than us? Are we really, in the 21st century, still in this feudal mindset of the poor being ridiculously inferior and distasteful to deal with?

These Phrases You Keep Using, I Do Not Think They Mean What You Think They Mean: In Which I Will Likely Alienate Half of My Acquaintances

Mother of Love and Compassion, bestow your wisdom upon me. Help me see humanity through your eyes. Help me master the love and compassion that you hold near your heart of Gold. Help me shine like a beacon in the night and see my reflection in your tear of love.Quan Yin, I thank you for your tireless love and your patience and hope for humanity.

As the entire world is likely aware by now, the U.S. claims to have killed Osama bin Laden, the boogeyman for whom the entire mess in Afghanistan, etc. was started. As soon as the news broke, people here were dancing and celebrating in the streets outside the White House, and Facebook blew up with status update after status update proclaiming the wonder of his death and the prowess of the American military. All I could do was stare at the screen in disbelief and horror, not because I am supporting terrorism or any such thing but because I was watching little pieces of humanity shrivel and die in the pixels. I'm already quite unpopular for saying similar things on Facebook and in this blog (now and in times past), and it is probably about to get worse. If you read this or any of my comments on the subject and feel that I am no longer worthy to be your friend, that's sad, but if you're reading this, you also likely already know me and know that I am not one to hold my tongue. As I have gotten older, I have also learned not to apologize for expressing myself, so no, I'm not sorry if any of this offends you.

First let me say that I do not blame the women and men who are daily being carted in and out of war zones for this "cause". For the most part, they are just people trying to work and take care of their families; their jobs simply happen to be much more dangerous and morally complicated than any of mine have been. I wish every single person who has been sent to the Middle East could come home safe and sound right now, or even better, that they had never been sent in the first place. What this also means is that I think we never should have gone at all. Call me a conspiracy theorist if you'd like, but...well, that would be an entirely different post. Suffice it to say that I find the entire endeavor ridiculous.

But this is not a post about the military or war or the government. There are plenty of political blogs out there who are doing and have done much better jobs of those topics than I could. No, this post is about the aftermath of the proclaimed death of bin Laden. I was snapped at (or as much as that is possible in normal sized type of Facebook) repeatedly for what have been variously called pacifist and anti-American views, depending on the respondent. If the death of bin Laden meant a swift and immediate end to all this crap, I might be able to understand the rejoicing; I would still not agree with it, but at least I could see the reasoning. As it is, all that's happened is one man has been killed; arguably he can be called a figure head, making it a death significant in terms of morale if nothing else. However, regardless of who this person was or what they may have done, it is no excuse for ignoring common human compassion. At some point in his life, there was a moment, or many moments, that twisted the mind of this man so that he became what he did. Instead of celebrating his destruction, the truly human thing to do would be to recognize the loss of what could potentially have been a beautiful and wonderful person. Lack of opportunity and positive, compassionate support in his life created the angry individual over whose death so many of my friends have been quick to party.

For years now, the extremely zealous "patriots" have cited the celebrations in our "enemy" countries at the 9/11 attacks as reason enough to be outraged and hate them. People claimed to be shocked and appalled at this blatant lack of respect for human life, but then lookie here, these same people are hooting and hollering in the streets at bin Laden's death. Just because he is perceived as evil does NOT make it the moral high ground to applaud his death.

When we’ve seen video footage of foreigners cheering terrorist attacks against America, we have ignored their insistence that they are celebrating merely because we have occupied their nations and killed their people. . . Indeed, an America that once carefully refrained from flaunting gruesome pictures of our victims for fear of engaging in ugly death euphoria now ogles pictures of Uday and Qusay’s corpses, rejoices over images of Saddam Hussein’s hanging and throws a party at news that bin Laden was shot in the head. This is bin Laden’s lamentable victory: He has changed America’s psyche from one that saw violence as a regrettable-if-sometimes-necessary act into one that finds orgasmic euphoria in news of bloodshed. In other words, he’s helped drag us down into his sick nihilism by making us like too many other bellicose societies in history -- the ones that aggressively cheer on killing, as long as it is the Bad Guy that is being killed. --David Sirota on Salon.com

I may very well be nearly alone on this, but I will never celebrate the death of anyone. If that person happened to be less than wonderful while alive, I can only offer up prayers to the Goddess that in his/her next life he/she will have less desire to cause pain and will make the world a better place for having existed. By rejoicing in the death of anyone, despite whatever violent or evil acts they may have committed, we are simply perpetuating the evil and becoming as bad if not worse than them.

"Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." - Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Panic and Doom/Book Life 13: In Which the Recent Graduate Comes to Terms with Said Graduation and Buries Her Panic in Books

Well, here we are: the very first post-graduation blog post. As of about 10 pm Friday the 29th, I became an alumna of Florida State with a BA in Religion, minor in Women's Studies; a BA with honors in Women's Studies, minor in Religion; and a BA in Creative Writing, minor in Latin. Since then, I have had about 3 panic attacks and at least one minor breakdown. Yes, I'm happy and proud of myself; after all, this is something I've been looking forward to for quite some time now. The entire seven years I was out of school, all I could think of was getting back in and finishing what I started, and I finally did--three times over. But now, without homework and classes, I am utterly lost. When I graduated high school, I knew I was headed off to college, so everything was cool. Now, I have no plan. With the Religion department rejecting me yet again, I have been left to wander about in my own ruminations, and as anyone who knows me well will tell you, my ruminations are no place to wander aimlessly.

Thus, I have spent the last week or so since the official "hell no" from the department showed up in my mailbox going over and over my choices. First of all, I HAVE to get a job, which is much easier said than done in this town, open availability or not. Anna needs a break, and we need to pay bills. Second, I have to figure out what happens next. There is a short list of schools that I would love to attend for my MA/PhD, and there's also Teach for America, which embodies many of my most deeply held ideals about changing the world. Of course, any of those choices hinge on my acceptance to said program, none of which are simple to get into, and who wants to give me enough of a financial package. Right now, though, I just need a paycheck.

Okay, enough of my panicked existential angst about the future...since I am no longer writing papers and studying for tests, I once again have time to read whatever the hell I want for the first time in ages. :-)

Pastwatch: The Redemption of Christopher Columbus by Orson Scott Card

"Who cares if a mathematician calls us dirty names like 'unreal'? They say such slanders about the square root of minus two as well."--Diko, in Pastwatch

I first read this book several years ago and fell in love with it. Normally, I am not that much of an Orson Scott Card fan--not that he isn't great, but just not one of my favorites. This particular book, however, is neither part of any of his series nor like any of his other writings as far as I can tell. Written from a far future vantage point, the human race has just been through a century of warfare, famine, and other horrors and is now living in a time of peace and plenty. They've developed what is called Pastwatch, which has built machines capable of looking at the past. As it progresses, they figure out that they are actually capable of changing the past as well, and one scholar discovers that Christopher Columbus may very well be the point at which all future conquest and evil began. I won't go on, because, you know, spoilers, but rest assured it is worth the read. Even if sci-fi isn't usually your thing, Pastwatch should be on your to-read list, if for no other reason than Card has discovered the most seamless way of working historical research into fiction than I've seen in a long time.

Dispatches from a Refugee in the Land of Privilege, Episode 2: Drugs, Welfare, and Other Unrelated Issues

Florida House Passes Welfare Drug Testing Requirement

An acquaintance posted this article on facebook with the comment "NICE!" I was immediately enraged, as I still am. This was, of course, backed by the GOP, and opponents cited a similar case in Michigan in which this sort of bill was struck down. I can only pray that the same happens here.

Let's take this apart piece by piece: the welfare applicant would be forced not only to take the drug test but to PAY FOR IT themselves! They claim that the people would be reimbursed, but can we discuss how ridiculous the entire thing is? If you are applying for welfare, disposable income is not really a known universe to you. Therefore, you would not be able to take the test and, as a consequence, to receive assistance. So what we have here is a situation in which the poorest are being doubly punished for being that poor. Yeah, I'm pretty sure this is NOT what the welfare program is meant to do.

While I don't think my family was ever on welfare, we did receive food stamps on a number of occasions. If this regulation had been in place them, I know that if my mother had applied, we likely would not have had the cash for her to take the test. She wasn't on drugs, but without the test, no welfare. So she and her family (including 2 kids) would have suffered.

The more you can increase fear of drugs and crime, welfare mothers, immigrants and aliens, the more you control all the people.

-Avram Noam Chomsky

What this is is yet another example of the over-privileged dictating what happens to the least privileged of all. How is this okay? On what level is this supposed to be right? And there are a lot of people in this misbegotten state who likely support this travesty in the name of "protecting the interests of the taxpayers." What this translates to in normal language is: "further lining the pockets of the already rich by preventing the poor from having anything." WAKE UP! Defending this bill with the "there are drug users abusing the welfare system"card is the exact same as "I won't help the homeless because there are those who want to be where they are" (for my rant on that topic, see this blog post). You are not protecting anything except those who do not need protecting.

Fixing Samantha: Beauty, Imperfection, and Cowardice

Seven-year-old Samantha Shaw of South Dakota recently underwent cosmetic surgery to "fix" her ears, which stuck out a bit and one had a small fold. Her mother claims it was to prevent future bullying. There had apparently been comments made in front of the girl by kids and adults about her ears, and her mother decided it would be a good idea to alter the "problem." As cosmetic surgery is rather expensive, the Little Baby Face Foundation covered the cost, and the doctor who performed the surgery was quoted as saying Samantha's surgery was not cosmetic but necessary. (If you go to Little Baby Face, the "deformities" they usually cover are listed, things like cleft palettes, for instance. Not usually ears that stick out.)

Am I the only one who sees a serious problem with all this? Her mother has, by doing this, stated unequivocally to her child that anytime the outside world finds fault with her, she should alter herself in any way possible to "fix" it. This sort of belief system is the basis of eating disorders and women who stay in abusive relationships. The problem is not the girl or her ears. The problem is the bullies.

Why is it that we are so ready to alter the world to suit those who are in the wrong? Samantha Shaw should not be made to feel that she is somehow defective because others find her imperfect. The defect lies in the bullies and ignorance of the people who made her feel this way. Instead of seeking out the surgery, maybe her mother should simply have stood up for her daughter when these comments were made instead of taking the coward's way out. Catering to the ignorant will only make it easier for them to operate. She should have taken the opportunity to teach her that no one is perfect, but everyone is beautiful in some way--even the bullies.

I'm Pissed, Y'all: A Short Exposition on Ignorance

While waiting on my 19th British novel class today, a few classmates and I were discussing people with poor grammar--the ones with no idea what the difference is between it's and its, your and you're, etc. Another classmate decided to put her two cents in but in an entirely different vein. She began a short rant on her "hickey" boyfriend and his y'all's and yonder's. I proceeded to explain to her that those words and many others are actually descended from Old English, Irish, and Scottish dialects, the literature of which is taught in our department as classic. I also told her that "y'all" is basically the only elegant and efficient way to denote a plural you in English and that she was offensive. She looked shocked, and I walked off. After class, she came up to me and said, "I didn't mean to offend you." I responded, "Then you shouldn't have said it."

First, that isn't an apology. An apology would have been: "I'm sorry I offended you." "I didn't mean to offend" means you actually did mean what you said, but you're incredibly sorry you were overheard. So, just no...Second, when are people going to learn that country and ignorant are two entirely separate things. I am quite country most of the time, but I simply know how to write and speak in a more academic manner. My accent never really disappears, and I wouldn't want it to. But I am sick and tired of my extended i's and odd word choice calling my intelligence into question. For the record, there are just as many ignorant people from northern cities as from the rural south.

Gone Up Home: A Displaced Hillbilly Girl Ruminates on St. Patrick's Day

Unfortunately, I attend the former number one party school in the nation. I think we've slipped a few places since then, but the point is alcohol is a primary concern for the majority of the population here. So, as you can guess, St. Patrick's Day is insane in this town. Bars open at 6 am and sell green beer for very little. Half the student population is wandering around with bar wristbands, half-sloshed. I, on the other hand, could care less. If I do have Irish blood, it's so little and so diluted that I don't think it even counts anymore. Half the time, I don't even think about wearing green. So why am I blogging?

The first people to settle the Appalachian mountains from Virginia all the way down into Alabama were from Ireland, England, and Scotland. They were drawn there because it reminded them of the mountains back home. My grandmother's family is from the rural hills of north central Alabama, and I know from experience that certain tales, songs, traditions, and linguistic elements survived from their homelands in modern speech and traditions. Case in point, my great aunt Lainie used to sing me a song called "Fair and Tender Ladies," which as it turns out is a traditional Irish and English ballad as well as a traditional Appalachian tune. So I made my very first video with a version of this song and pictures taken back home in honor of Aunt Lainie...and St. Patrick's Day. The song is taken from a locally made CD named Off the Porch Strong with several Alabama musicians; "Fair and Tender Ladies" on this album is sung by Amanda Smothers. Enjoy!

Dispatches from a Refugee in the Land of Privilege, Episode 1: Homelessness Isn''t My Problem

For article/essay technique class yesterday we read Barabara Kingsolver's "Household Words" (found in her essay collection Small Wonders), and I spent most of the class shocked and horrified. If you haven't read it, Kingsolver uses an incident she witnessed while in traffic (an apparently homeless man beating on an apparently homeless woman) and which she did nothing about to discuss homelessness in the United States and Americans' complicity in it. It's an excellent essay, of course; everything Kingsolver writes is amazing. She goes through all the American "fuzzy-blanket myths" related to homelessness, such as "anyone who works hard can make it in the US" and "most homeless people want to be that way." Statements like these seem obviously ridiculous to me, but the people in my class apparently disagree. They proceeded to give every one of the reasons she was arguing against as valid and reasonable.

Can we talk about apathy for just a minute? They pasted the "poverty is more complicated than just handing a dollar to a guy. it's way too big for me to fix it." argument over their lack of give-a-damn and expect that to cover it. I call shenanigans. No one ever said that one person can or should be able to fix poverty and homelessness single-handedly. I wish that was possible, but it's just not. However, it is possible to help one person at a time, thereby making the world just a little bit brighter in the process.

But this post isn't about my belief in positive energy and its ability to change the world. It's about privilege. When I spoke up and said, "Well, I've been so close to their position that regardless of what they eventually use the money for, I will always give them money if I have it. If for no other reason than I would hope that if it was me with the cardboard sign on the side of the road, someone would help me." They not only basically said that there was no way I had ever been close to homeless (because they themselves had never been) but also then spent the next ten minutes recounting tales of homeless people who refused to be helped, etc. I'm not sure where this line of thought is going except that I didn't think people actually thought this way. Where I was raised, people generally didn't think this way, and I don't know how to take this.

Speaking De-Motivationally: Poverty and Random Disorders Take Their Toll

I tell people I'm medicated--for my safety and theirs: 100 mg of sertraline (which is just the generic form of Zoloft). While I absolutely hate medications and have my issues with the traditional medical and psychological professions, it actually helps. On my meds, my brain no longer feels as though it's being shaken all the time, and I can usually find the wherewithal to do things that need to be done. However, when other disorders are added into the equation....

I have some odd thing, related to narcolepsy though not the same, that means while my body is awake, my brain has not yet gotten the total message. Therefore, I am always tired. Always. No matter what I do or how much sleep I manage to get, I feel as though I just got off a 12 hour shift unloading trucks or something (which I have done before, so I know whereof I speak). Luckily, there is a medicinal fix to this problem. It's called Provigil and is in the same family as but is not actually a methamphetamine--non-addcitive, even. And it works. However, even with decent prescription coverage (decent meaning my other meds--all generic--are less than five dollars), my co-pay for it is forty dollars a month. Compared to many other people's prescription costs, this is insanely cheap, and in that sense, I am thankful for the coverage I have. But we simply can't afford it right now. What this means is that though my brain in one way says, "Hey! That needs straightening/cleaning/whatever! Let's do it!" The rest then says, "*Yawn* Nap first, clean later." I have no motivation to do anything whatsoever. Therefore things are not as clean as I would normally have them, and that in turn makes my brain feel all shakey, regardless of the 100 mg of Zoloft.

In fact, we have friends coming over tomorrow afternoon, so I have to straighten and clean. I know this, but what have I done? I took a two and a half hour nap, after which I was supposed to go ahead and finish Latin homework and find an article for a paper I have to write this weekend. Didn't happen. Nap, sandwich, and now this blog. And I am still tired. I will still be tired in the morning after 7 or 8 hours of sleep. I will be tired the next morning no matter how much sleep I get.

Ode to Roseanne

Let's be honest here: I am a Netflix addict. I love being able to pull up random movies and tv shows whenever I want. I've seen awesome documentaries and a ton of movies from my childhood that I had completely forgotten about. Tonight I was super excited to discover that they have all the seasons of Roseanne on instant watch. So of course, I started with episode 1, procrastinating my ass off in the worst way. I had forgotten just how much I love this show!

When I was younger, I loved all the family sitcoms, but I particularly loved Roseanne. While I was jealous as hell of the Huxtables and all those other families, I turned on Roseanne because it was the one family in which I could see myself reflected. Even though some of the other sitcom families weren't exactly perfect; Danny Tanner was a widower whose friends had to step in and help raise the kids, for instance. But all of the rest of them never seemed to have any financial issues. I don't remember one single episode where the Tanners or the Owens were worried about groceries or the bills. For me, that was certainly far from reality. Even when I lived with Mema, who owned her house and car, we were living on a Social Security budget, and she ruled the bank with an iron fist forged in Great Depression. (Too bad I never picked that lesson up, right?) From my perspective, the Connors were the only normal family on tv.

I don't think there's really a point to this except to say that I'm thankful for Roseanne. She made me feel like less of an oddball among the DJ Tanners and Vanessa Huxtables of prime time.

We Was Po', Part III: Choices and Possibilities

I've written about privilege and dealing with it in academia before, so I will try not to repeat myself. This past week I've had a sort of panicky time of uncertainty about my future in the academic world. While discussing Annie Dillard in religion class Thursday, we had a short conversation about her background and how this affects her writing. She was raised in a wealthy family, and my argument was that given this, her choice of a life of pure introspection and writing was possible. People who are raised in low income environments are less likely to assume that such a life is a career choice. Now, this isn't to say that it isn't possible, just that it is not necessarily seen as a choice. The rest of the class did not agree. It was at this moment that I had my crisis point.

How can I reconcile my background and beliefs with a life among people who truly believe that a low SES background doesn't generally cause exclusions from the beginning or that a privileged background doesn't mean more possibilities than low SES? This is the very reason I decided against a graduate career in women's studies. I was constantly interjecting a low SES rural perspective into conversations mostly to no avail. I couldn't stomach the thought of spending the rest of my life beating my head against that wall. Now, true to my fears, I am facing the same issue in religion.

The major problem is what to do about it. I love, I mean absolutely love, the idea of making a living studying religion, writing about it, and teaching people about it. That, to me, sounds like a good time. However, if I continue along this path, will it mean an eventual nervous breakdown when my brain has to repeatedly bash against these issues of privilege? If so, what else can I do? I don't want to do social work, because I fear ending up in some tangentially governmental office being forced to perpetuate a cycle I would rather destroy. Yes, I know there are plenty of other job possibilities within social work, but still...I thought about library science. I do so love books, and I could maybe work in a public library helping kids love to read. I could be a public school teacher, but it's a bit late in my undergraduate career to start that.