Remembering Sarajevo

I went and saw the Trans-Siberian Orchestra on Wednesday. As always it was an awesome show. Me and my dad go every year. It's half a joke, half truth, but we say we go because we enjoy the show and forget how the story ends. Come mid year I can't ever for the life of me remember what the Angel finds. He's on a mission to find something that humans value but can't touch.

The other thing I enjoy about the show, in a weird way, is it never fails to make me cry like a little bitch. It's true, I lose it every year. Lemme tell you why. The Angel flies over Sarajevo, and sees scars on the land - which, interesting historical point: after the war the people painted the holes in the ground from bombs and stuff with read paint. As he's flying over, he comments/thinks/whatever that he's listened to God closely many many times and had never once heard him say to kill in his name.

The Bosnian War started in 1991, or thereabouts. I was ten years old. I watched the entire thing on the news station at school called Channel 1. By the time it ended I knew the concept of ethnic cleansing. I learned there were places in the world were people killed you because of your background, heritage, race, religion, sex, any reason a person could muster to separate you out from this concept of 'pure'. The Siege of Sarajevo is to date the most heart breaking war time event that's happened in my life time.

By the end of this war, though I learned the concepts around what was going on, no one could answer my one question of Why? Why do people still kill in the name of God? Why are people still killed because of their ethnicity? Why has anyone ever been killed because of their religion?

None of these questions have ever been answered to my liking. I think that's why I cry. I remember when the open air markets were attacked - the Serbs killed civilians on purpose. I remember the pictures of the bombings, the destruction, the rape of countless Muslim women.

I know I don't quite know all the political atmosphere or exactly what was going on. Even still, there's no reason that fits within humanity, or within my human element, that makes me sit back and say, "Oh. Okay. I get it now."

I'm not sure how this ties in, just foreign affairs stuff, but the other day former prime minister of Palestine Benazir Bhutto was killed. She was shot twice and then a suicide bomber set off a bomb and killed about 20 of her supporters. She. A woman was a prime minister. In Palestine. Hopefully not the only female leader in that part of the world. But, she is gone now. This story disturbed me. She spent eight years in exile and it was just within the last year she returned.

If you ever get a chance, at least listen to Christmas Eve in Sarajevo, now that you know a bit about what happened. Even without the narration I get teary eyed.

*EDIT* My bad. Benazir Bhutto was the former Prime Minster of Pakistan, not Palestine. Thanks Loren. :D

It's Christmas!

Merry Christmas, everyone! It's been a while since I posted - busy busy!

I got fleece jammie bottoms. :D I wonder who else got me super cool jammie bottoms.. >.>

Oh, and I got a Starbucks gift card (lots of brownie points to Katy), a coffee cup, perfume, this scenting thing, a big candle holder thing, a box full of love, a new computer chair, and lots and lots of Christmas cards. And I saved stuff for later today.

Kinda I feel bad, I wasn't able to get any one else very much. I got little things for people.. I found some really pretty ceramic beads at Earth Art that fit within my budget.

Anyway, I am the sleepeh. Wanted to spread some cheer. Oh, and, it's a bit late, but, for my friends/readers who have kiddos I found this: http://www.noradsanta.org/en/home.htm
Well.. *I* didn't _find_ it, it was posted on the KXAN's website. Maybe book mark it for next year, it's real neat. You can use Google Earth to track Santa. :D And it's got videos and games (I think that was a game..), Santa facts. All that stuff. It's neat, I need to sic my nephew on it. Anyway, Enjoy!

Merry Christmas!!!

More Poetry

A friend of mine's been trying to get me back into open-mic poetry. Well, he's not all like, "YOU HAVE TO!" More like, he suggested it, I used to do it and really enjoyed it.. so it's more his suggestion and my brain trying to talk me into it. So I've been digging around in all my poetry books and trying to get some material together. I found this poem I've been looking for for literally years. I'm posting it for your pleasure.

Desire

I looked inside myself today,
And found my void
Filled with love and beauty.

I watched the wind play across the trees,
And dance with Herself -
I realized the mundane is joyful.

I saw a pair of lovers,
walking hand in hand, giving to each other
The love the ocean gives her children.

I saw Death.
She touched the wind
And reminded me of life's confusion.

I saw all of these things,
And now, in the darkness,
I think of the coming dawn.

More Fun With Ubuntu

So, I've been working on getting all these bits working right the last few days. Damn I love it. Be one with the command line and you're computer will love you more than your own mother does.

The cool things I've done:

I have a 3D Cube rotating desktop, on which I can work on four difference spaces. When I get into doing shit, that's helpful. This desktop is transparent, so I can see the other spaces through the one I'm working on. I need to get a capture desktop program to make a video and show you guys. It's really awesome.

I timed my startup. From the GRUB loader to the login screen it takes 33.5 seconds. That in itself is incredibly awesome.

I changed my splash screen (what you have to look at between login and the desktop) to this really awesome picture of Blue October.

My graphics card has better support with ubuntu than with windows, and it's only partially supported.

There's a few bugs that need to be fixed, but at least I can fix them, you know what I mean? In windows, if there's a bug, you have to wait for a patch or probably go through some excruciating process if you can actually do it your self.

In other news, finals are coming, Thanksgiving was good, Christmas cards need to been done, I think my dog has arthritis, and I'm behind on everything.

Life is still good.

The Dumb

Most people who know me know that I'm a really big computer geek.

Really big. Computer geek.

Me.

At one point I was running off three different computers. My desktop, which runs Windows XP. It's been more or less kind of a game, me and my relationship with WinXP. My old laptop, which runs Mac OS X. I spent some time reformatting the hard disc, doing things in Darwin that are just nifty, and crashing the system. I never really kept anything on there worth keeping. And finally, I had this little Gateway Laptop on which I ran MEPIS, a light running version of Linux ideal for older computers. Man, that thing was old, too. It had a total of 64MB of RAM and a Pentium II in it. When I first got it, it had a bootleg copy of WinXP on it. Anytime I touched that thing I felt myself aging. MEPIS was okay, too. I had DSL (Damn Small Linux) on it for a while, too, but didn't feel like working out the bugs and the wireless card.

Anyway, so this past week I've been priming up to put Enlightenment on my new laptop, my Compaq Presario. Nice piece of work, that is. It's got a 2.5 Ghtz processor, 2 Gigs of memory, 128MB Video Memory, and the thing smokes running even WinXP. Enlightenment I like for several reasons. It's light, not bogged down like KDE desktop or even the Windows interface. It's pretty. Man is it pretty. If you ever get a chance, check out some of the screen shots. And finally, it's pretty AND light, at the SAME time.

Even booting it off a 40X CD drive, Enlightenment smokes on my laptop. The only problem is I've got a broadcom wireless card and from what I've been reading it's hard to support natively. So, what I'm thinking is installing Ubuntu and also installing the Enlightenment Desktop. Long story, I'll skip how that works for now.

Onto the dumb.

Through this, it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to back up my windows partitions, because I do want to keep windows. For now. Maybe forever. Maybe for a week. Who knows. So I'm looking around in my System Tools. There's no back up software. So I check online. I read a bit about (on the microsoft website) a backup utility that is on the WinXP install disk, which I don't have because they just don't give you that kind of stuff anymore, and think, "Well, since I don't have it, I should be able to download it because I have genuine software." *Pause here for a shiny teeth glean*

I find the package I need, download it, and go to install. My installer tells me the program I'm trying to install is for Vista.

Awesome.

I'd rather have large objects inserted into my anus with no lube than put Vista on my laptop. That being said, know that there's a lot more I'd rather do than have Vista on my laptop than just that. Now visualize...

Okay, back to. So I thought I'd copy all of my user files to my incredibly large external USB drive. I tried it, stupid me, I tried it. Popped up with "File in use" errors. I should know. I should know better. Even if you have nothing running, and I mean NOTHING up, you're still using a user file somewhere. So, download Ubuntu I did, started my computer from the disk, and copied over the files that way. (To catch some of you up who may not know, by starting from the CD ROM drive rather than my hard drive, it unmounted the drive, and all the files I needed copied were no longer in use. Pretty sweet, eh? My Mac taught me that.)

It was the most productively unproductive day ever. Last Friday, I think it was.

Now, for the really dumb part. I copied my files and thought also it would be a good idea to make a disk image of the recovery portion of my hard drive (which I'm doing right now with the help of PING Linux, stands for Partimage Is Not Ghost). You download it, burn an ISO CD, boot your computer up, and make an image of whatever drive you need. It occurred to me earlier that having the recovery portion of a drive on the same drive (even though it's partitioned) is the dumbest idea ever. So, making an image of it on an external drive is a good idea for anyone, anytime. That way, in case of total system failure and having to delete (or get a new hard drive), you can run your recovery disks (well, that's what I have anyway), which will reinstall the system software, drivers, etc, and then reinstate the recovery drive with the backed up image and be able to completely restore your computer to it's former state no matter what happens. I'm not sure who's bright idea this partitioning idea belongs to, but the dude needs to be shot.

My Weekend

In a nutshell: Exciting, awesome, scary, unsure, stressful, dramatic...

Hmm.. I suppose I could go on and on, or I can just tell you.

On Friday I had the pleasure of eating dinner with my friend Eric, who I rarely get to see. We had some great food and great conversation. I got some knitting done and finished watching Firefly.

On Saturday I went to my friend Melissa's sort of "Yay I got a new apartment" dinner party. That was great. Tasty Mexican food. Good company. Then we went back to the shiny new apartment and had some coffee and chats. I miss talking to you, Melissa. :( I left there and did my single woman hear me roar sleeping around thing. Well, not really sleeping around thing. I didn't quite make it home, though. ;)

I woke up Sunday really excited. I'd planned with a friend the day before to go to the Inner Faith Thanksgiving Service at the Beth Israel temple. I think it's a temple, you know, the place, where Jewish people worship. Can't think. Clowns have eaten my brains. I'd been excited about it for quite a while because the idea of so many faiths and backgrounds coming together and worshiping under one roof just fascinates me. So I helped my friend with stuff because she was in the procession of religious leaders. It was amazing. There was drumming, singing, dancing, praying, bell ringers, a sitar, and people from all walks of life. I sat next to some really cool people. One lady was nice enough to show me her iPhone. Oh man. Those phones are so sexy.

Then came the part where we got up and greeted eat other. The lady who showed me her phone was the first to ask how it is we greet each other in my religion. "Hi" in Wiccan is either "Blessed Be" or "Merry Meet." I tend to like merry meet, so that's what I told everyone I greeted. The lady on the other side of me asked what religion I was. I told her I was Wiccan.

She was so excited. I wasn't expecting that. At all. Everyone was excited there was representation from within the Wiccan/Pagan community. Even the Unitarian Univeralist Minster in front of me. He didn't surprise me so much. Those guys kind of like us. It was an event of amazing unity. I had tears in my eyes through most of it. I do now, writing this. I didn't ever anticipate such acceptance. The service ended, and my friend and I found a respectful place to smoke a cigarette, then we went for the food. By the time we got to it, there were scraps of this and that. I got a bite of this and a taste of that.

I was satisfied.

My friend. Well. My High Priestess remarked it was like Jesus and the loaves. I believe when people are gathered, in unity and love, when we go to break bread, there will be enough to go around. I saw it. I felt it. I was satisfied with bits of this and that. So was she, and the guys behind me. It was an amazing experience.

From the time I got done with that up until about two hours ago, I've been researching and writing, rewriting, reading, re-researching, and writing more on this memo I've been working on for my research class. Brain over load. I'm surprised I'm writing now, actually.

The last thing I wanted to talk about was last night. I spent a good five hours at the Law Library. I love that place. I do. I decided to give a friend of mine a ride before heading home. On my way to pick him up, I was sitting on the feeder road, waiting for the light and there was this homeless man with a squeegee. And I'd heard stories about the guys with the squeegee's not taking no for an answer. I vaguely glanced his way, just watching traffic, and he did it. He started squeegeeing my windshield without asking, without being asked or prompted in anyway.
So, says I, in my pathologically polite way, "No, but, thank you."

He kept on.

I actually rolled the window down, I know he heard me ask him to stop the first time, so I said in my not so polite way, "You need to get the fuck away from my car."

So he stopped. And wondered off.

What the hell is wrong with people these days?

Am I So Wrong...

In thinking dating is entirely utilitarian?

I was talking to a friend of mine the other night about some renegotiations me and my ex-fiance got into over the weekend. And he and I try and renegotiate every six months or so. If he starts it, I say no. If I start it, he says no.

Yeah. Match made in heaven, let me tell you.

So, this negotiation went like so.

Me: Marry me?
Him: Sure.
Me: Well, that was easy. Would you still let me sleep with other people?
Him: Well.. maybe [he listed a few names of people I would still be able to sleep with, of which names I'm withholding].
Me: How bout this. I get to keep screwing [one name off the list], you keep your crazy girlfriend, and we each get one freebie a year.
Him: Like, just one bit of strange a year?
Me: No, like, one person who's a bit of strange a year. And it's cumulative. Like, I have [so-and-so] now, January first rolls around I get to keep that one and if I get a new one I get to bug him for strange all year, but that's it.
Him: Just one?
Me: Evens the odds. It's not like you get one a year as it is.

Seriously, a match made in heaven.

---

I tend to think this whole marriage and relationship is totally utilitarian because I'm hard to love and it's hard for me to love. I mean, he's reasonable tolerable, decent to look at. He's funny, warm hearted. He's warm. Like, when it's cold like now, he's a little heater. He's the only man I've ever slept with that can give me an orgasm. I mean, when it comes to sex, he's goes above and beyond. I've known plenty of men who claim they can/will do that and fail. Maybe it's me. I do hold the title of "fuck of the century."

It's getting to be more and more my experience that you meet someone, you sack them (or let them think they sacked you. Whatever) and within a week or two, the excitement's gone. It's not funny to leave your bra in their car anymore, and you just want to quietly fade off the scene. Or they do. However it plays out, it gets boring. I guess it's like this. If I'm going to be bored, I'd like to know the person I'm being bored with, and know him well I do.

And if I marry him my mother will kill us both.

Writer's block

It sucks.

A lot.

Life's Little Reminders

Most people who read this blog that I know of know that I'm in recovery. Hopefully most people who read it now have gotten to and read the post about my sobriety birthday back in August. So. Yeah. If you didn't know, now you do.
I was in a meeting just a while ago and was reminded about something. I didn't know where to write it, so I thought I'd just write about it here. I should write more, privately I suppose. Anyway, what we were discussing was Gossip. I'm not sure if what I do personally can be considered as gossip. Yes I talk about the people in my life and events that surround me, but I don't repeat nor talk about things that I wasn't present for. Whether or not a recounting of my own experience counts as gossip, I'm not sure. In the definition, the word hearsay comes up. Which, hearsay denotes that the person gossiping wasn't around for the actual occurrence.
One thing this topic did remind me of was why I left my old home group. We have a saying. Never say anything in a meeting you don't want all of AA in Austin to know. For the most part it's true. Alcoholics talk. Things get around.
Anyway, so a couple years ago I was living with this guy. I probably shouldn't have been, because he drinks and does drugs. But, whatever, I figured it was my choice, and OH MY GOD I WAS IN LOVE. Some people just don't understand. The point is, it was my choice, and I was aware of the things that went on while I was sleeping. I was aware of what went on while I wasn't there. Somehow, the word got out at my old home group. I didn't say anything. I don't remember telling anyone anything about this situation. Because I know not to say anything unless I want everyone in Austin to know. I talked to my sponsor about it a lot. I talked to close friends. I know the source of how the information that got leaked. It was my mother. Surprise surprise.
Even after I left him, moved out, and started rebuilding everything, people still came up to me and said some pretty mean spirited things. I'm not sure if it was their way of saying, "Hey, I love you, you should think about what you're doing." But it sure didn't sound like it. Whatever's wrong with, "Hey, I love you. You should think about what you're doing"? Honestly, some people walked up to me and said some pretty cruel things, and it was totally uncalled for. So I left. I was tired of defending this. I mean, I don't know why I felt the need to defend my actions, other than the fact that they were my own; that people have the right to be wrong; that I had the right to be wrong; it wasn't there life. True or not. It wasn't anyone's business.
I found a new home group. I'd forgotten for a long time. But it makes me want to watch my own actions to see if what it is I am saying is indeed gossip. Because if things like what was said to me come out of my mouth, then yes, yes I do need to take a look at what I'm saying. Now that I've remembered again why I don't go to the same group I used to go to when I got sober, I'm sad. It just pains me that people who claim to try and help other people will go to such lengths to tear others down. That's all for now. I just had to write. Before I forgot. Again.

Hooray Colorado!

Now that my brain is functioning a bit better. It took four shots of espresso and roughly twelve hours of sleep. Hell, if it weren't better by now I'd be shooting myself. This post is probably going to be the first of many about trip pictures. There's so many it's going to take me a while to go through and find all the good ones to build a slide show or something. Anyway, here is better for me anyway because I can post the picture and then babble about what it is.

That's the I-70 diner. Their Amish meatballs are the shit. I burped it up all night. It was the first time I'd ever eaten anything and was really excited to taste it again later.

This is mountainous activity somewhere on I-70.

More of the view from I-70, west of Denver I think.

Somewhere along the road to Lookout Mountain aka Buffalo Bill's Grave.

A view from part of the Lookout Mountain Trail.

A view from the same part of the trail. That's me. I was looking at this earlier and thought, "Gosh. I'm so small compared to everything. The mountains. The universe." So, I think of it now as the insignificant picture.

Me practicing what I preach about sitting and being. Ah, it was nice just sitting there and enjoying the view. This was at the actual look out point. There's a shop there with a really nice lady. They have fantastic fudge and food. This is also near the resting place of Buffalo Bill and his wife.

I-70 West of the lookout mountain exit.

The tunnel. Er, one of the tunnels on I-70.

The Starbucks in Idaho Springs, Colorado. Elevation 7,526 feet. It is home to less than 2,000 people. One day I will live there. If only for a year or two, I will live there.

This would be why I would live there. To the right of this picture is an apartment complex right on this creek with a staircase winding down to this little patio, on the creek. Someday I will wake up and sit in a place similar in this town, drink coffee, and smoke a few cigarettes.

Further up the mountain, elevation somewhere around 8 or 9 thousand feet. I realized when we stopped here what Joseph Campbell was talking about when he said, "People seek the meaning of life but what they're really looking for is the experience of being alive." Or something very close to that, I'll have to look it up. Anyway, at this point I realized that was the entire trip. We just got in the car and drove West from Denver, with no destination in mind. The further we went, the more we needed to see. When that hit me, that realization, I almost cried. I finally felt what he was talking about. I told my friend Eric, who took this trip with me, "This is it. This is what he was talking about. This is the experience of being alive." Maybe it wasn't the complete experience of being alive, but it's an awesome starting point for me. After that, this butterfly fluttered up in my face and waited very patiently and prettily for me to take a few pictures of it.

This is the view from the top of a hill on the side of I-70, still heading west. It was completely beautiful. These pictures do no justice to actually seeing it. This was somewhere between 9 and 10 thousand feet above sea level. There was a storm heading our way. At that elevation this time of year, it doesn't rain. It snows. So, we got snowed on. Needless to say it wasn't much further from here we turned around and headed back to Denver.

Five States. Four Days. Oh yeah.

I just got back home to Austin, Texas, from a trip I took with a friend this past weekend to Denver, Colorado. It took us 18 hours to get there, and 21 to get back. The five States the title is refering to include: Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Colorado, and New Mexico. We decided to take some time and see the sights on the way back. It was beautiful. I wanted to share with you some things that I learned:

• Kansas is basically a 82,282 square mile shit hole. If it ever occurs to you that it might be a good idea to drive through and see the sights, shoot yourself.
  
• Fun-Yuns are in a food group all their own. They get the funky sleepy I've been in the car way too fucking long taste out of your mouth in the morning.
  
• I drive like a cunt no matter what State I'm in.
  
• People in every State I was in, on every highway, still think a blinker is asking permission for something. I'm not asking your permission to merge or change lanes when I put my blinker on. I'm letting you know where I'm going you fucking cock wrinkle. Move.
• My brain is made of Fungus. If you ever hear me say, "Dig in the Fungus..." Now you'll know why.
• Nothing feels better than a hot shower and a warm, soft bed after driving 1,000+ miles.
• The cops in Kansas are essentially 6 foot rectal muscles with radar guns.
  
• There's a gas station on I-70 heading into Denver, about 150 miles east, where the ladies restroom is filled with Harlequin Romance novels. But I'll tell you what, that lady sure knows a good place to eat.
  

That is all for now. The Fungus is tired.

Today

I feel like I want to write more, just because I know I have the time. Otherwise, there's at least two weeks in between posts. But then, I'd post ten times one day.. and still naught for two weeks. There is no happy medium in my life right now. It's okay. It's frustrating. It's interesting. It won't last much longer, I hope.

Anyway, today has been long. My hamster died. It was strange, I was sitting at my desk working on stuff, and I caught a smell of something off. I turned around, and he was laid out. Not in a ball, like how he likes to sleep, either. Just sort of laying on his side. His eyes were slightly open. I knew when I looked over my shoulder, before I got up to investigate, that he was dead. My lazy, cute, furry friend is gone.

I feel as though it's been a long week and today's only Tuesday. And yesterday was a holiday. I've driven over a hundred miles. Run at least twenty errands. I'm still behind.
My dog had a seizure last night. It was like the brakes got put on everything. My entire world stopped. I was terrified watching her eyes flicker back and forth. It was strange.

My eyes have horrible allergies in them. This is new for me. It's driving me nuts. I'm in class. Life just feels blah right now. I'm not sure what's going on. I'm not sure what to do. I want to go home, or go to a friends, and just lay on the couch and knit.

Random Strangers

I've never been big on Craigslist, even though I've heard a bit about it over the years since it started. This site has a lot to offer, and if you're thinking their personals section is just a big fuck fest because it's free, you're kind of right. For the most part, there's some strange stuff going down. But then, I've found responses and people on there better than the guys eHarmony deemed worthy of me based on my 82 point or whatever-the-fuck personality profile. As much as this hurts, because it was expensive and disappointing, I paid for a subscription to eHarmony a few months ago. The quality of people on there was very disappointing. I've very much enjoyed the conversations I've had with a few of the people I've contacted (and who've contacted me) through Craigslist.

One in particular that I wanted to write about. He posted this ad entitled "Looking for insight?" and offered to listen to any women's 'man problems.' Free of charge, no less. I think it's something he just likes to do. So I wrote him about this situation that's been going on in my life for a while. It was refreshing to not get a sugar coated opinion. And no even an opinion, guy advice from a guy is damn near close to fact. He asked me important questions and helped me analyze the situation, and stop over-analyzing it.

I used to hear about these hotlines where it was like chump change a minute just to talk to someone. Not a sleazy sex line, just someone to talk to. Someone to listen. Those lines were actually a bit more successful than most, because humans need someone to talk to. Sometimes it's easier to talk to a random stranger about what's troubling life than it is a close friend. And I love my friends. I don't fear their judgment. I don't mind opening up to them. It's just in this situation I needed a fresh and clean perspective. Someone from outside that hasn't held my hand through the joys, laughed at my amused frustration, or patted my head while I cried. Although I really appreciate the people who have done this. I'm not sure what my mental state would be without you (I LOVE YOU MELISSA. I do. I think about you all the time).

The truth is, I need someone I can just talk to. Just spill all the beans. I've used various folks on the internet. One was Crystal, in a way. One of her past posts inspired something in me, and I could relate a lot to what she'd written. The guy from Craigslist, the random stranger? His name is Brian. At least, that's what the e-mail said (I hope you don't mind, dude.. I mean.. if you ever read this nonsense I write). There are various others, but these are the two who've recently made an impact. An impact in a random stranger's life. Some girl, from the internet, that they took a moment to listen to. Well, in Crystal's case, she took a moment to not be afraid, and wrote something no one understood until I came along and read it (at the time, hopefully someone else could relate to it). So this is a big heartfelt thank you to anyone out there who takes the time to help a friend or some random person.

Dear Asshat..

Fuck you.

To every person who gets on IH 35 doing 40 and refuses to speed up once on the freeway. Fuck you.

To everyone who rides my ass when I'm already speeding. Fuck you.

To every person who changes lanes while on the phone without even checking their blind spot. Fuck you.

To every jackass in the fast lane doing five miles per hour below the speed limit. Fuck you.

To anyone bastardly enough to ride my ass when I'm in the right lane and it's more than your right to GO FUCKING AROUND. Fuck you.

And finally, to that guy at the post office the other day who was bitching about the employees being liars because they lost your mail and have no record of it, fuck you. All I wanted was stamps. Fuck all of you. Get out of my city.

I hope you all at some point in your lives get your head stuck in a toilet.

Respectfully submitted,
BJ

---

Happy October, everybody!! I think I'm going to be a pimptress for Halloween. I'm soooooo excited. I bought the most fantastic shoes. Okay. Now that I've bitched, I'm going to go jerk off. :D

Going Through

What an appropriate title for today, I think. Maybe not so much centered on the things *I'm* going through, because these things don't just involve myself - but more so just going through life.

Last Sunday marked the Autumnal Equinox, the first day of fall and the second day of the year when the day and night are of equal length. In case you didn't know. At Lugh's day, which was in August, the Corn King is sacrificed. The Goddess has been in mourning, and now is the time when she begins her reprieve before she journeys into the underworld to be with her King (which is at Halloween/Samhain). I was wondering why I was feeling a little sideways until I remembered this while at my covens ritual last Sunday. My Patron Goddess would be the face of the Goddess (the Crone) that did the sacrificing. Actually Hecate's a triple Goddess, but I sometimes imagine that of all the pantheons she would be the most suited to be the Crone doing the sacrificing.

So that is what the earth and the energy around us is going through. Or, so according to me and a handful of other Wiccans. What I'm going through is somewhat similar. No, no one was sacrificed. Gosh, if ONLY we still practiced human sacrifice!
Okay. Joking.
A very good friend of mine is moving to London. Last I heard, his flight leaves today at noon. I'm not sure though, because the first I heard it was supposed to be leaving on September 11th. What a day to fly overseas, eh? But that plan was changed, and the plans may have been changed again. I don't know. I hope so, in a way, because I just can't imagine him leaving without a chance to say goodbye.
And if he ever gets around to reading my blog, because I know I sent him the URL, than Hi Alan! I will miss you a lot. I mean, we didn't hang out that much, but it's truly one of those quality over quantity situations.
I love you. I do. You've been nothing but nurturing towards me, and at times you've no idea how much I needed that. I didn't even know I needed it. You taught me things about myself. I also have a clearer picture of what I'd want from a man if I ever stop sleeping around and get back on the dating scene. Which is more likely these days than it has been in a while. See the post from earlier about me being single my entire life.
I know it's not goodbye forever and ever, but, round trip airfare to London is about 850 bucks and that's a lot of Atlantic ocean to fly over. Not that it would never happen -- I just don't know how or when.

Now that I've bared my soul to the web.. moving on.

My birthday is tomorrow. I'm turning 26. I'm nervous. I mean, I've never turned 26 before. It's going to be a new thing for me. It probably isn't going to be as bad as 25. 25 was kind of a land mark thing. I remember hyperventilating saying "Oh my god. OH MY GOD. I'm going to be a QUARTER OF A CENTURY OLD." And then I'd pass out and get up and do it all over again. That might not mean much to those of you who read this and are older than that. I'll freak out if I want to. Yeah. I'm sure when I turn 40 (if I make it that far. Don't laugh. I have a bad kidney), then I would probably party. Until then, freaking out. Didn't think I'd live this long. I actually planned to commit suicide at 18. That was before I got sober, though. And that story is for an emo blog, and we'll not get much into it.
So, we're going to have this barbecue at the park and party like it's 1999 motherfuckers. If you've been invited, show up, because it would really mean a lot to me. Shit. It means a lot to me that those of you who read this read this. I really don't run around in life with this "Hey I'm fucking special" attitude, in fact, most days my own value is beyond me. I don't see it. I reject the whole idea sometimes. So it genuinely does mean a lot to me when people take the time to read this and tell me about it (even though you guys don't comment.. not to name names.. Kris...) and it means a lot to me that the people who are going to come tomorrow are taking the time to do that. Speaking of which, if you ever care to, the comments are open to even anonymous posts. I don't moderate them. I won't. So, even if you don't have a blogspot account you can comment. Just so you know.

So. There is the sappy post for the month. I hope you enjoyed it. Get some lube and roll around in it.
kluvthxbai

Why I will probably always be single

To start with, I'm super picky. I've heard a lot of good ideas, as far as dating goes, to make sure you're not dealing with a psycho and to make sure whoever you're interested in is a decent person. Some include: ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, taking a few bites, and being done with it (the trick I understand is if he doesn't get upset, because he's paying, he's decent in the anger/controlling department). A guy I know has what I call a "two week thing." The way he explained, if I remember correctly, was something like "Date a girl for two weeks, like hang out and stuff, and if it goes good then alright." What that means, though I'm still not sure.
My thing? My checks and balances and tests and tweaks? Heh. It's just not all that complicated. In fact, I'm so picky, most goes don't get a first date, let alone actually me talking to them for two weeks. I have such a low tolerance for bullshit, it isn't even funny.
For example, there was this really hot waiter at this restaurant a few weeks ago. I took my friend to dinner. On the way in, he was nice. He said something to the effect of, "Hi. How're you ladies tonight." I assumed he was talking to us, and due to my polite nature I actually turned, so I was looking at him when I replied, "I'm alright. How about yourself?" Apparently he was doing good.
We found out halfway through dinner that he was 23. Sorry to say, but, strike one. Alright. So some 23 year old boys can be decent humans. Usually they're gay or incapacitated in some way, but I guess they can be okay human beings.
At about the end of our meal, he came up and commented on the tattoo on my back. A lot of people comment on it. So, the conversation went from compliment to movies to other weird shit. He asked me for my number. He seemed decent enough. Usually about the time a guy gets a sentence or two out, I've decided I'm done, but he got passed that. I gave him my number. He called, we went for coffee. He called again, we went for more coffee. Halfway through the second meeting, I found out he still lives with his (soon to be ex, according to him) girlfriend. And he actually said the phrase "more pushin for the cushion, if you know what I mean *winkwink*"
Even if he didn't still live with his (soon to be ex, according to him) girlfriend, I would still be so done. I don't need sexual overtones to know a guys attracted to me, especially if he went to such great lengths to get my attention and phone number.

Alright. So maybe I won't always be single. I mean, there aren't a whole lot of women on this planet that are quite like me. Maybe if there's some guy out there that knows how to act and speak, is halfway decent in bed, and who'll leave me alone when I want him to, then maybe I'll date him. Until then, fuck dating. I'm going back to sleeping around.

My Greatness

This is a blog about my greatness. Be forewarned.

While the world was sleeping, I created this.

Like all things of greatness, it needs a little tweaking. But, nonetheless, it is an illustration of my awesomeness. Come. Bask in it. Maybe some of my awesomeness will rub off on your tentacles.

Okay, so I was supposed to work on it like a month ago, but inspiration didn't hit me until last night.

---

In other news, my intuition is totally gone. Like, MIA gone. I'm hoping this is just temporary. I'm not used to experiencing the world in concrete ideas and taking things at face value. But, on the upside I've learned it's more or less natural of me to trust people. I've been reading in between the lines less and just taking life as it comes. So, I'm less stressed, albeit less aware of people and my surroundings, but over all less stressed and drawn into thought.

The downside, is it's my intuition. It's always told me who's good, who's bad, and who's mediocre. It's my balancing sense of where to go, when to go, and how exactly to go about it. I know I've made a few huge mistakes the last few weeks, in thought, word, and action. I've also had to outright ask people things I don't normally need to ask. Things I'm not exactly comfortable talking about. I feel as though I'm stumbling blindly along a path that was once lit and is now dark.

Exciting, yes. A learning experience, definitely. I'm not sure if it's a test, a random occurrence, or if my spider sense has left me for good. At times it's frustrating. Other times, liberating.

---

Whipped Random

Although I prefer to wrote code in my underwear, I made that page up at the coffee shop.

I informed the barrista at the coffee shop I had created greatness and was going home to rub my naked breasts on it at 5am.

It was very temping to leave my nipple prints on my laptop screen.

Melissa wants to have sex with me even more because of this web page.

Melissa is also jealous that she's going to be a work for the next 7 hours and not at home rubbing her bare breasts on the new web site.

I bought a yo-yo the other day at Terra Toys.

Last night a friend of mine gave me a pink monkey.

My parents are on vacation and I've been living off Macaroni and Cheese (Dad? If you read this, SEND MONEY!).

One Day Not So Long Ago...

Well, actually just today and yesterday, I was reminded of how much I can't stand being talked down to. Some people have this thing, if they're over 35 or 40, and this thing goes like this: They think it's okay to talk down to me because I'm in my twenties.
I admit it was a lot worse when I was 20 than it has been over the last few years. I'm becoming a shit head about it, lately. I seriously wonder if my standards of rude behavior are just too high for some people. While I am most definitely not the highest example of socially acceptable, there are some things that I think are rude on an instinctual, moral level. Things that quite literally dumbfound me when they're done or said, and that is actually pretty hard to do.

---

In other news, and I know I said I would not be posting anything highly personal or dramatic, but damn it's on my mind. I guess it's not that dramatic. I had these plans for the night, which I carried out nicely. The plans went like this: Get coffee, go to class, get more coffee, go shoot pool, get even more coffee. What actually happened was this: Got coffee, went to class, got more coffee, talked to people, went to shoot pool, got weird phone calls, now drinking even more coffee.


Which of these things is not like the others?


Right. The weird phone calls are out of place. Of course you can't plan around them. You can't sit down and say, "If you have something throwed off to tell me, don't call me Mondays."


Well I guess you could. Or I could, but that's a lot of calling people to tell them something kind of stupid.


So I was driving to the pool hall when the first phone call happened. It was my ex. So he calls me every once and a while. Which is cool, I like to talk to him still. So I answer the phone. He doesn't say hi, how are you? None of that shit (chalk this up above as something I consider rude).
He just asked me what I was doing. So I told him, "I'm on my way to shoot some pool." Insert superficial conversation. Out of the blue, he says, "When you were pregnant, what process did you go through for insurance and stuff?"
Me: "Excuse me?"
Him: "You know. When you were pregnant. How did you get your stuff taken care of?"
*Pause*
This is thrown off right here because we haven't talked about me being pregnant since I was pregnant. Long story short, I was pregnant, my body can't take the hormones, so I had to abort. What he specifically wanted to know about was the end result.
*Continue*
Me: "Well she has to go to DHS (Department of Human Services) file some paper work, oh wait. She also has to go to like a women's clinic to get a pregnancy test and get paper work from them. To prove it."
This is when he started talking me in circles. Yes medicaid covers abortions, as far as I know. We talked about price, all that shit.
What gets me. Are you serious?
I'm okay with the fact he left me for someone else. I'm okay with the fact that there was always something in his life that he loved more than me. I'm okay with a lot of shit. I'm even okay with the whole fact that he walked out of my life for someone else, and called me when that didn't quite work out for him (he didn't leave me for the one that's pregnant now).
Also, when I'd asked if she wanted it, he said no, and followed it with, "I don't want to have a child with her."
Like I somehow failed. At least, that's how I feel right now. Maybe I'm just taking all this too personally.

That's all I got. If I think about this anymore, I think I'm going to cry. Mainly, because I'm angry.

Inking

I made this appointment on Friday to 'talk' to my tattoo artist yesterday. I was so excited when I woke up yesterday, I went and got my eyes checked, which is something I really needed to do, and went on to the shop early. I have to tell you about my eye doctor visit, first. I've been seeing this lady for a good ten years or so. I completely love her. She's never jerked me around. She does her work well. She asked me what I'd been up to lately, to which I replied, "Dying my hair pink, getting tattooed and going to school." She laughed and suggested we dilate my eyes on Friday since I was going to be going into the tattoo shop to talk design. So you know, the picture up on my blogspot profile is just the outline of what's on my back. It was done last year. It's since been filled in and now we're going to work around it. Eventually, my back, shoulders, and upper arms will be covered.
I knew when I walked into Moms Tattoos I would walk out with new ink. I can't lie to myself. We did take care of business, and here very soon I'll have the outlines started for the things around the goddess. I'm excited. While I was there, I mentioned I wanted to cover what I call my "crazy dots." When I was sixteen, I got a needle, thread, and some Indian ink and put these dots on my ankle. I think though because of all the other beautiful work on my body, no one ever noticed but me. I dyed my hair for the same reason. I have gray hairs that no one else notices but me. So she told me to poke around and find something I like. I just found one flower. It was a rose bud, and on the stem was a butterfly, and the stem continued down. From this simple design, she designed this viney girlie tattoo that wraps around my ankle, it has butterflies, dragonflies, and two full bloom roses. It's the most painful work I've had done to date. The pain from the work on my back is now considered discomfort. I didn't really put much stock into what people say about how painful ankle tats are until now. It was worth it.
As she was putting on the stencils, when she put the dragonflies on my feet, I looked right at her, and was like, "You're going to hurt me, aren't you?" I've never winced, cried, or even thought of screaming while getting a tattoo. She looked back at me, smiled, and was like, "Probably."
I screamed like I was getting my nails ripped out. But I did not cry. Just screamed. My artist was amazed at my lung capacity. And I now have an official, legitimate reason for having held my foot in the air for an hour or so.
This is the first tattoo that not only embodies an ideal I have in life, but who I am in this life. I thought for a minute it might be a meaningless cover job. But after discussion and thought, It's more part of me than any other. Yes I love the goddess on my back. Yes, I love the tattoos on my arms, they're all part of who I am, but this ankle tattoo is what I am. I'm a women. I'm a beautiful women. As shocking as it is to me, I turn heads. Everywhere I've gone today people have commented on my ankle, on my back, on these things that are beautiful that are on my body.
From the little girl who felt worthless from the day she was born, who felt as though the entire world missed her because she was missing something, who drank just to feel sane, who loves fiercely and hurts alone in the shadows: I am beautiful, and even if the entire world turned it's back on me, I would still be beautiful.

Happiness

Happiness is bleaching your hair and dying it pink.

Happiness is the bow-tie pasta at Galaxy Cafe in South Austin.

Happiness is having your errands done in time for lunch/dinner and still have time to eat and then go to school.

Today was as good as any other. I slept in until ten. Got up, went and got my hair done. Had some great laughs and a little serious conversation with my hairstylist. I got done with that, ran the errands I've been putting off all week, and was headed for home sooner than I thought. Oh, what I'd give for a spot of some pasta, cheese, and squash. So I rang up the Galaxy Cafe.
A cute voice on the other end answered the phone, "Galaxy Cafe."
Me, "Hey. Can I place an order for pick-up?"
Her, "Sure, what would you like?"
Me, "The bow-tie pasta, please."
Her, "What kind of dressing would you like with that?"
Me, "Er, well, it isn't a salad, what I'm wanting."
Her, "It comes with a salad."
Me, "Oh yeah. Just ranch or some variety thereof is fine."
Her, "Alright, your total's (seven bucks or something, I can't remember now) and it'll be ready in about ten minutes."

Perfect. I was about ten minutes away. So I pulled up, went inside and paid for my order, left a tip, got some tea, and left. Never checked what was in the bag. Never thought to check what was in the bag.
I get home, salivating by this time, ready for the world's best pasta. I carefully removed the plastic silverware from the bag, the mini paper menu, and finally the prize. But no little box, like a side salad would go in.
I figured out why when I opened the box. It was a salad. Not just any, but one with pesto on it. It doesn't happen very often, but there are people in this world allergic to basil. I happen to be one of them. It's kind of a strange thing. I probably wouldn't fall over dead or have a seizure or something, but it isn't exactly a walk in the park, either. So I came back. At first, the girl said, "Well, that's what we have during the day that has bow-tie pasta in it." She was genuinely not trying to be a twit. She said it like she'd honestly thought by ordering "bow-tie pasta" I wanted the Pesto Pasta Salad. Although she didn't seem to be trying to be a twit, I wanted to call her a twit.
"Well. I would be fine with it, normally. I would totally eat it. If it didn't have pesto on it. I'm allergic to Basil."
She almost looked at me blankly, like she was going to, and caught herself, and if I wasn't staring at her the entire time I would have probably missed this precious moment.
"Let me get my manager for you." She says.
I went back over it with the manager. She asked what it was I was wanting, and I said, "Well, I realized after looking at the menu that you guys don't serve it until after five," and before I could say, "I just want my money back so I can just get a sandwich at school," she asked what it was. And I told her.
She put the order in. It was pretty cool, mainly, because the stuff I wanted was more expensive than what the fuck up was. And I got more tea. For free.
So, I grabbed my computer and set up shop until it was time for class. They have wi-fi. God loves wi-fi.

Scattegories

It is once again weekly update time. I like to try and write more than this, but on the skimpy 13 days of vacation time, I've been achieving absolutely nothing. It's everything I thought it could be.
So I've been reading this thing and have been absolutely astounded by people's stupidity. It's okay. Click the link. It's safe. No naked people at 419 Eater. If you don't believe me, read on and I will ease your mind.

419 is a scam. We've all gotten the e-mails about someone in Nigeria or overseas that has vast amounts of money and they're just begging to give it away. Yeah. Not.Likely. My daddy taught me better than that. He said "If something's too good to be true, it probably is." I will never forget this. I remember reading my first 419 scam e-mail. I scanned it, and just clicked "mark as spam."

What gets me, is people fall for this shit. I'm sure some letters are written quick convincingly. There are many many many different flavors of this scam. Someone's inheriting money and they need to move it out of the country. Someone's dying of AIDS and wants to set up a trust fund so you can take care of their children. More recently, in my gmail of all places, You've won the UK lottery that you never entered. I've never been to the UK. Shit. I've never left the US. I don't even play the Texas lottery. But, apparently, my email address is chosen at random every week. Along with a couple thousand other people, I'm sure.

If I ever know someone personally who falls for this bullshit, I will slap them. All these people are going to do is ask you for a lot of money to push their paperwork through, and when you want your money, there's going to be hang ups. I just can't see how some people could be so stupid.

In other news, I went to Schlitterbahn on Monday. Yes, during my exquisitely long and luxurious vacation I was dowsing off in a water park with rides that give enemas and pretzels that have enough salt to induce sodium poisoning. I loved every minute of it except the part where I freaked out on the soda straws, screamed bloody murder all the way down, forgot to breath, and took a very much not wanted forced breath under water. I'm so quiting smoking if that's what I have to look forward to in my fifties. I'm serious. I'm quitting smoking.
Other than that, it was a much needed break from everything. I took a friend with me that made me eat something like every two hours. Well, he didn't *make* me, but he suggested it. And I nibbled here and there. It's hard to eat while hot and wet and sweaty. We drank enough coffee to kill a whole tribe of small animals, and we walked around Texas State long enough to not have to think about exercising for the rest of the month. It's a nice campus. I'm excited. I'm going to make another trip down there very soon to get enrollment paper work started for next fall.

And tonight I'm going up to where I go to AA meetings, my home group, and I'm going to pick up my 9 year chip. I still can't believe I've been sober this long. When I first got sober, and keep in mind I was pretty fucked up emotionally, mentally, spiritually... I didn't think I was going to last six months. I didn't think I could live that long and not drink. I didn't want to live if I was going to drink. Effectively, I'd decided if AA didn't work I was going to kill myself.
I was 16.
Next month I'm going to turn 26. I finally think it's safe to say I've been sober longer than I drank.

All in all, life is pretty fuckin good.

Making The Grade

So, I put some extra work into my Legal Research class. I brainstormed, I researched, I typed, I turned it in. It's the first ever piece of extra credit I've ever done during my current run in college. I'm getting an A. It's also one of the first few times I've needed extra credit to get an A.
How on earth I managed to get a 95 on the final, I'll never know.
That was the day of no sandwich for me.
I'd gone to the coffee shop to finish putting together my Research Notebook, I'd finished it with enough time to drive to the campus, order a sandwich, eat it, and get into class on time.
I got there and walked into the cafeteria. The kitchen was closed. Ah, but never fear. They have tasty tuna salad sandwiches in the spinning machine. I carefully selected the sandwich. Lined up the hole with the door. Fished two dollars and twenty five cents out of my pocket. Lined up the door with the hole again because the stupid thing does this automated twirly display thing. I put the money in. I reached for the door and pulled. On the message indicated it flashed "Error. Out of Service. Make another selection." So I tried another sandwich door. Ham. I'll eat ham. I'm starving. The indicator flashes "Please insert $2.25"
I already gave you money. Give up the fucking sandwich!

Defeated, I headed for class thirty minutes early.
As I sat down I was chatting with a friend. She was pulling out her books and notes.
"Oh shit. Are we allowed to *have* our books?"
"Oh yeah," She tells me, "It's an open book test. Didn't you know?"
Fuck. Someone remind me to show up to class more often next semester.

I grabbed my notebook and laptop and ran out the door, up the street, to my car and scooted home for my books that I hadn't seen in weeks. Never. Ever. Take an open book test in college without the books. No matter how hard you study. They'll have you do things like complete sentences out of these books you haven't read all term. Anyway, my mad dash home didn't net me another speeding ticket, but it should have. On my way there, I formulated this idea: Grab the books. Make a sandwich. Get out of dodge. So I grabbed my books. Slapped a sandwich together and was on my merry way.

I was on the road about five minutes before picking up the sandwich. I realized I hadn't inspected it before then in my haste. I looked. To my vast sandwichless disappointment, the meat had mold on it. My parents lit out of two a day or two before and took all the fresh lunch meat, it seems. So I wrapped the sad parcel in the napkin and lay it between the seats.
No sandwich for me.

I was thirty minutes late back to class instead of thirty minutes early.

My Mailman, My Mechanic, And Other Nonsense

I can't stand my mailman. I wish I were home when he came by so I could say shitty things to him or stab him in the face. And that's the problem. He comes by so late (after 5 usually) that I don't have the chance to say shitty things to him. Or stab him. And so, the mail goes out from the post office at 11am and again at 4:30 pm. Anything I send doesn't actually go out until the next day because of this. I could take whatever I need mailed to the post office, but on my luck that bastard would come early that day. Plus, what's the point of a mail box with a flag if I'm going to be running things to the post office myself? What the fuck am I paying 42 cents a letter for? Him to go out all weekend and come in Mondays (ooo.. especially Mondays) hung over?

Anything I've ever said bad about my mechanic, I officially take back. Yesterday I was almost at this point, today I'm totally there. Yesterday I took my car to the shop to have the struts done. I drove over there and one of the guys on his crew brought me home. I did all my important stuff that I had to do at my house, took a nap, and woke up to his wife calling saying she would come pick me up. I got the car back, did the errands I had to do, and noticed it was making a strange noise when I went over bumps. I figured it was the new springy things settling. In the evening, I was going for coffee and was going to stop by the cigarette store first. In between my house and the cigarette store are train tracks. I did what I usually do, slowed down to about 25, and bounced over them. My car started making a stranger noise that didn't stop until I did.
I stopped, turned around and drove back towards my house. Strange noise still there. I called the mechanic, even though I knew he'd gone when I picked up the car, in hopes that someone was there. No answer. I decided to come back home. I woke up this morning to him calling me back. He called me back, even though I didn't leave a message. I told him what had happened. Said the noise was like a metallic hum and only happened when I was moving. He said he'd pick it up in thirty minutes so he could drive it into the shop and listen. So, I put my key under the mat and starting in studying more for my final. I got another call about an hour later and his guy said the hub was bad and wanted to know if I wanted them to go ahead and fix it. I said yes and called my dad and let him know. He said the mechanic agreed to be paid on Friday when he comes home.
Sitting in my living room earlier, because it's really really hot outside, I heard my screen door. I peeked out my peep hole and saw a car driving away. I opened the door and the key to the car was hanging on the lever for the screen door. I decided then that I love these guys. My car got fixed. I didn't have to give them any money right now, the picked up the car and dropped it off. He's got to be the most convenient guy in the world.

I'm way too tired to study for this test. I'll probably go to the coffee shop and do it, even though it's a hundred million degrees outside. I just want to drive the car because it drives so nice now. It doesn't feel like it's going to shake apart into a million pieces when I stop at a red light anymore. Plus I need to go get cat food before the cats start planning my unfortunate demise because they had to eat dog food earlier today..

Crunch crunch crunch

It's finally finals week. I took my Family Law final this morning online. I have one left, tomorrow night, at 6pm. Pray for me. It's going to suck. A lot.
Of course, nothing can be worse than the final I took in Ethics last year. It took me three and a half hours. Which doesn't sound like much if you're in graduate school. But then, by the time I reach graduate school or even go on for my Bachelors, I'd like to hope I know most of this shit. I wrote out four essays for that final and answered god remembers how many short answer questions. Around essay number two I had to pee. Around essay number three I had to pee really really bad. I'm sure essay number four was the biggest piece of literary crap ever to have my name signed to it. I was tired, I had to pee (yes, this is for emphasis), and I couldn't put together a string coherent thoughts by then.
But, nevertheless, I am grateful to be in college. Most of it is paid for by the great state of Texas. Tomorrow I will be free for all of 12 days. Let's see how much hell I can achieve on such short notice. I've already got plans for Schlitterbahn. There's also plenty of laying around the house and knitting scheduled.
So I've been studying and doing the things I promised myself I would gradually do over the semester. Of course, I didn't do them. I knew I wouldn't, but I promised anyway. So much for not making promises I can't keep. I figure though it's okay if they're promises to myself.

Oh man. I need to do something mindless.

God loves Republicans

So.. I'm going to steal some material from Bill Maher. During the last stand up of his I watched he remarked that Republicans were more concerned about whether or not teenagers fucked than they were about their education. He was talking about the grand "Abstinence-only" method of "birth control" being taught in school. Apparently, teenage girls are six times more likely to give oral sex, and four times more likely to engage in anal sex.


It is for this reason that God actually loves Republicans. In what I'm about to say know that I in no way advocate sex with underage teenagers, and in saying "teens" I'm referring to the ones 18 and older (or here in Texas 17).


God loves Republicans because the Republicans have made a generation of teenage girls who will FINALLY give head and anal sex because thanks to the "Abstinence Pledge" the vagina is off limits.


And this is what gets me about the Republican party. Well, any politician really. Girls know so little about their body that they think if they don't have vaginal sex it's ok. Well, I'm not saying getting banged in the ass or giving head is bad. But what bad is when I'm talking to a fellow female about sex or birth control, they usually ask me what I use. I have an IUD. What gets me, what's sad, what makes me know in my soul our educational system has lost its priorities in this area is that blank look I get. IUD's have been around since the 1950s. It's probably the second oldest method of birth control. Well, maybe third. Diaphragms, Rhythm Method (if that is a form of birth control), and then IUD. See, the Rhythm Method doesn't work because women know so little about their bodies they're not sure when they ovulate. That's sad. There are countless women out there who don't even know that usually (not always) ovulation occurs a few days before the period. Some women it's two weeks. It depends on the women. They don't know that what sets off a menstrual period is an unfertilized egg that's being passed out of the body.


Am I just going to blame the Republican party? Eh. I could. But I'd rather blame fucking everyone. The Republicans for thinking kids are too irresponsible to know about their bodies and what's available for them to make responsible decisions. The parents for thinking their kids will be taught about 'this stuff' at school. Yeah they'll learn about it at school. But chances are, most of what they listen to is from their friends. No it's not a comfortable subject, but it's so important finding a comfortable way to go about it is imperative. And finally, to the kids themselves who've made little or no effort to find the truth. There's a wealth of information on the internet, books, older people. There are so many resources at their fingertips. But people are so scared. Not just the adults but the kids too.


I want to scream and rip out my hair when I'm talking with someone, about something I would like to think is common knowledge, and they say something like "Wow I never knew that. Glad we had this conversation." Because it should be common knowledge that birth control pills and any other medication that alters the state of a body's hormone system can be very dangerous. Not just to smokers. Not just to women over 35. It should be common knowledge, and bare with me, but it's possible, that women can get pregnant without full on vaginal intercourse. It should be common knowledge that few STDs actually have symptoms and that condoms are effective ways of preventing STDs. It should be common knowledge that you can get these same STDs in your mouth and on your ass. See, what people don't get, is that knowledge is more powerful than what's going on now. "Just don't do it." "Abstinence Pledge." This is all the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard. Teenagers are going to do it. At least equip them with the knowledge of how not to get pregnant (other than "just don't have sex") and how to prevent getting an STD. Ignoring this and keeping on the same path is only going to make things work. Most people's biggest mistakes are because they didn't know.

Here I am again..

At 4:30 in the morning. Bored out of my skull. I promise not to bore you with more current events or anything of a political nature. I'm sitting on my back porch amongst wolf spiders large enough to take off a toe. I'm serious. I saw one the other day that was about four inches long.


So, I signed up for this whole twitter thing. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I keep asking myself, do I really want the entire web knowing what I'm doing off-handedly every moment of every day? Or, whenever I choose to send in an update? On my luck, and according to my good humored nature, I'll be in the throws of orgasm sometime next week, pick up my cell phone and text in something like, "Orgasming rite nao. Can't talk. Legs shaky."


And who ever I'm with will probably slink out of bed, get their cloths on and quietly ask me to leave. And take my goddamn cell phone with me.


I'm guessing I don't get why people think other people care what they might be doing at any given moment. Yes I know. I signed up for it. But mainly, because, if you look to the right, blogger has a widget for it. It's mainly for YOU. Yes. You, sitting there, reading these words on my blog. Because I'm pretty sure you might care when I orgasm or eat a beef and bean burrito or make orange kool-aid.

Other random things to do at this hour include blogging, bugging Hector, and Pogo. Also, knitting. But I like watching TV while I knit and the kids are all sleeping in the living room. I would watch 300 again.. but I get so distracted by the perfect six pack on every one of those men. Mmmm. Hollywood actually did something right, for once. Don't ask me what this movies about. You'll get an answer like "Plot? 300 has plot? Do they talk and stuff?" Because I just pause it and drool.

---

Okay, so joking. I've watched that movie backwards and forwards and know exactly what it's about.

So apparently...

I'm a bit behind in the times. I just *barely* read about this whole Michael Vick thing. There are so many links out there, but I chose that one because it sums up my desire for this dude to get thrown in prison and ass raped for ten years. I mean, as weird as this sounds, dog fightings one thing. Yeah, that's cruel, but some of the other things, like throwing water on the dog and electrocuting it because it lost? That more or less takes the cake for sick fuckdom. And apparently his little brother, Marcus Vick isn't much better.


Of course, the NAACP urges the public not to pre-judge Michael Vick, but they seem to have no problem pre-judging on their own terms. You can read more here. Like any public interest group, they seem to be out to serve whatever interest serves them. And that's okay. Just know that when you hear from them. I really think the only reason why even the idea of race is still around is because the NAACP can't resist but step up and make it a white or black issue. I didn't even think of that until my dad mentioned to me what the NAACP was talking about. They served their purpose back in the days of the Civil Rights movements, and in places of the south that are behind in the times, but know I feel as though they're creating the division they once fought so hard to destroy. In other words, it's becoming a race issue because they're making it one. Same with the Lacrosse players at Duke. It was fine. People settle those things out of court ALL the time. White men. Mexicans. But because that girl was black. Because those boys were white. The NAACP made it a race issue. In 2007, this idea is stunning bullshit. They will tell you racism is alive and well. And it is. In backwoods towns where the KKK is still a trendy thing. On the national level it is not until they make it so.

The biggest problem with national interest groups is someone always gets fucked. The Lacrosse players? They got fucked. Anyone with any fame status will now get fucked for even looking at a black women wrong. Women's interest groups fuck men. With these people running around serving their own interests there can be no justice. Do I think those Lacrosse players should have served jail time? Yes I do. I believe any man who rapes a women deserves to spend time in jail. Not just white men of 'status' raping a black women. Or, the other way around. I believe all men of any race or creed deserve to spend time in jail for raping a women of any race or creed. So where's the NAACP when a black man does something wrong? They're standing behind him. Telling us not to pre-judge.

---

In other news, I had a great laugh this morning at my laptop and HP. My laptop says it has the capacity for 4 gigs of RAM. The HP website, on the specs for the P/N says it has the capacity for only 2 gigs of RAM. Not that I would ever have need for 4 gigs of RAM.. but hey.. I can dream.

Irresponsible

The grinding of my gears.
You know what gets me? Being called irresponsible. Well, beyond that. Being called irresponsible by the same people who just asked I pick up their son from school because the daddy (also know as my fat, lazy, retarded brother) scheduled his college (community college) class during the time he's supposed to be picking up my nephew.

This kind of confuses me in a way.

Here's the scope:
Last year I was left off the list to pick him up (yes, at his school they have a list and you have to show some I.D.) because he and his wife thought I was 'too irresponsible' to handle the job. Well, needless to say I ended up on more than on occasion dropping what I was doing only to come home, pick up someone on the list, drive to the school, pick up my nephew, drive home, and then be merrily on my way back to whatever was interrupted.
What prompted the irresponsibility, you ask? I disappear every once and a while. Yeah. There. I said it. I leave this place I call home and stay with a MAN. Yes. A thing with a penis. And I get the stress boned right out of me. Then I sleep, cuddle, and all that mushy shit, and come home. In fact, it was after one such excursions that I heard "Well, they decided to leave you off the list because you're irresponsible."

Last time I checked I've brought my college GPA up from a 2.3 to a 2.7. It isn't anything to write home about, but I did screw up a lot a few years ago and I'm trying my damnedest to make it better. And I'm doing it.

Last time I checked, I had a driver's license. Yes, with this great innovation of modern man I do the grocery shopping, spend more time at the library than should be allowed for cruel and unusual punishment, and make midnight runs for bread.

Last time I checked when I got my student loan and grant money, I sat down and budgeted my expenses, being very careful to be sure I had money to pay bills (I have credit cards) in between checks. I've yet to miss a payment or be negative in my bank account.

Last time I checked, I volunteered to do basic accounting work for a group of people that owe me nothing, and to whom I owe my life. I've not missed a payment, set their banking account into the negative, or been off in their books even once.

But somehow, because I choose to spend the night off with some man friend every once and a while, one of the few joys in my life. I'm.Fucking.Irresponsible.

Now, they want me to pick him up this next year. In the midst of taking my own nine hours at college, god knows how many more hours at the library, and keeping up my accounting work, among other things (yes, there's more).

I said no. I said no because taking care of these children isn't my responsibility. They're right. I'm irresponsible. I'm irresponsible because it isn't my responsibility. I haven't put off getting my driver's license, even though I have two children and it's completely retarded not to have it. I didn't schedule my classes (which, ACC is really flexible with scheduling) in conflict with my child's school. I didn't jerk off and waste away my tax refund on an HDTV instead of equipping my wife with a drivers license. I don't sit on my ass all day and play video games in my parents garage instead of out working supporting my family.

And somehow, I still get looked at like I'm the fucking irresponsible one. Fuck them. My sister-in-law can take the bus. I work too hard for this shit.

Tricked

I was sitting at my desk earlier making ready some bills and happened to glance at the Google desktop gadget that gives me news. I hardly ever look at this thing, and have the news gadget on my desktop but not my laptop.

All I saw was Bush Hands Over Power to Chaney.

I felt over joyed for a moment. Here are a few thoughts that ran through my head as I eagerly awaited the story, loading in my browser:

• Wow, he finally figured out his I.Q. is the the double digits and conceded.
• He must be dying.
• He must be dead (not quite as rational as the rest, but it was there).
  
• He finally concluded the gig was up as far as the war in Iraq, he's caught and he's no better than any other mass murdering fuck-head.
• He's in jail for doing drugs.
• He's tired of playing President in our white house.
• He's playing a cruel joke on America.

And a cruel joke it was. My browser doesn't take that long to load, it's just my mind is really adept at jumping to conclusions. So I read the story and am instantly disappointed. He's alive, he doesn't think he's stupid, he's not tired of playing, he probably still believes in his war, no drugs (maybe he should take them..)... Alas, it's a cruel joke. They're screening his butt for cancer. And the devious "mwahahaha I'm planning things with my two hours of lime light" look on Chaney's face is classic.




Hopefully, if there's any great justice in the universe, Bush is half awake when they probe his innards and he comes out feeling like Goatse.

If you don't know who Goatse is, use your Googles. *But be warned, Goatse is an image some may find offensive. It is sexual in nature.*


*This statement is in compliance with US law stating I can't randomly send you all to shock sites without your knowledge.

Harry Potter

Yes, this subject is really big right now. The last Harry Potter book came out last night. I'm laying in my bed with my copy snugly beside me. Getting it was an interesting experience.

I decided to reserve my copy at Borders, because it's not far from my house and usually that's where I go when I want/need a book. Although, I hate that place. I hate it because it's simple. Their book selection can be irritating to me. For example, I got this book on Tantric sex there some years ago. And it was a good beginners overview. I got a better book on Tantric sex at an adult store some years later. That book is (insert profanity)'ing awesome. Now, if they carried that sort of book (subject matter aside) at Borders, I would love that place.

Okay back to Harry Potter. I got there a little after 11pm, because I knew no two ways about it I'd be standing around waiting for half the night. I got my wrist band. Stood around some more. I thought maybe the advertisement of a Ball would be more festivities. There weren't any. I hung out with my friend. Ran into other friends. I heard Book People had a killer party. One friend I ran into was covered in glitter.


So, the moral of the story is Borders is the Hallmark of bookstores (little snippet sayings in place of actual books) and they don't know how to throw a Harry Potter party.

.. Not that I would be into that sort of thing ;)

The Parking Whore

So, I'm sitting up at this dig Flipnotics, and it's a cool coffee shop. Although, it's not preferred by this blog writer. I was going to go to this place, The Green Muse, but a business owner in the same lot decided to be a whore. And I don't use that word lightly. There's egads of parking there. There's quite a few businesses there. But this lady (I'm told it's a chick) has signs up over half the parking lot "Parking for Stupid Whore Dance School ONLY at ALL TIMES."

Okay, that place has yet to be opened when I've been there. And I'm there a lot, because I'm a coffee whore, and go at all times of the day for my fix. Well, if it is open, no one's ever there. The kicker, that was pointed out to me today whilest whining, is that if there were people there, they could take what little parking the coffee shop has. this situation is officially Teh Ghey. So, if you're in Austin, and you want to find a dance school, steer clear of the dumb bitch on Oltorf and South First. Next to the gas station and pizza place, with the coffee shop on the other side? Yeah, that place.
I hope she goes out of business and gets her head stuck in a toilet.


On an unrelated note, Google Adsense is funny. Hmm.. I saw an ad there before posting this advertising a site for Christian homes dealing with homosexuality. Maybe I use the word "gay" too much. Must look into this...

In more recent news...

Crawling around on Encyclopedia Dramatica* I found this website. Go ahead. Click it. Be prepared to laugh your ass off. It seems to be a Christian Fundamentalist website that basically labels all websites outside of their strict dogma (including that 'interracial relationships' are classified as a form of bestiality, huh, go figure) as sites violating their Internet Acceptable Use Policy. The funniest thing? Austin Independent School District's website is listed in there database (you know you want to. Click here. Ask.com is also listed in their database).


But BJ, you may say, maybe they just automatically added them and haven't made sure these websites were validly against their AUP.


Oh ho ho. Fear not. Net Authority MAKES NO Mistakes. Seriously. Looky here.


The amount of Christian zealotage on the internetz astounds me. And, to be sure, don't ever ever ever think I advocate children viewing offensive materials. Because I don't. Children shouldn't be on the internetz. They should be outside, playing, with other children, enjoying being children. What gets me is there are so many people out there who think they know what's good for children, and here we have Net Authority, cue, stage left. They claim that even websites about dinosaurs are harmful to children because dinosaur bones were put here apparently to test our faith in God, because no where in the bible are anything like dinosaurs mentioned.

...


Are you serious? Because it's not in the bible it's here to test faith? I'm not a Christian, but even if I were I wouldn't feed someone a line of crap quite that off the wall. Even the crazy people at the Westboro Baptist Church don't make stuff like that up. And even better? They're not racist. Yes, I believe equating an interracial relationship as being a form of bestiality is racist. According to these people's standards, other than the sheer amount of profanity on this blog, I will tell you all right now I'm a product of an interracial relationship. I guess I should be flagged as being against Net Authority's AUP because this is a blog, apparently, written by an abomination.






*I'm not linking Encyclopedia Dramatica because that site can be very offensive. I like it, don't get me wrong. If you're really curious, google it.

So I was at Target the other day...

Looking to find a new bathing suit. Which I hate doing because it's hard to find one that does my boobs justice. Most bathing suits are for girls with smaller or perky tits. I have neither, so I've had this grudge with bathing suit shopping since about 13. I actually haven't gone in over five years. Because this is how it goes: I find something cute, that I like, try it on, and those weird nipple pads? Are smaller than my boobs. So, big boob + small nipple pad = not only odd sensation for me but it just looks weird. It looks like I'm trying to upholster my own breasts. When I cut the pads out, my boobs just sag. Looks equally as weird. Only, it's more uncomfortable for me.

With that in mind on Monday I went to Target. Because I need a new one. The old one was given to me by a friend five plus years ago (hence the no torturing myself for over five years) but we can all imagine what kind of shape that little prize is in.

I took a friend of mine, apparently you always need back up for this sort of thing. And we're in there poking around at stuff, stuff too small for me. Stuff unbefitting the boobs. The funny thing? They had more straight up two piece bikini's in extra large than the full coverage two pieces.

Out of no where, this lady and what assume to be her sister and/or shopping back-up, comes wondering up, picking through the swimming items.

"X-X-L YEAH THAT'S ME. THAT'S WHAT I NEED."
That's what she said. And then she'd move to a different rack of swimming treasures, poke through it a bit, and again, "YEP. X-X-L, UH HUH. RIGHT THAR."

I'm sure the people at the other end of the store could hear this. I had to keep myself from laughing. I'm convinced she was a little drunk.

Finally I got the idea to go to the womens section, where they did have bathing suits to do me some justice. I think I bought the most fantastic bathing suit I've ever owned.

Unfortunately, it's been raining all week. Le sigh.

So I have this class..

And as shitty as it sounds I'm sitting here, in this class, right now, writing this. I've seen it happen on this forum I keep up with (MySpaceBashing) and I thought it was kind of dumb until now. Well, I could understand it on the forum because the kid who did it was in highschool. I'm sitting in a college class.
I mean, what's the world coming to when I can sit in a college class and add some blogage? Why isn't this professor keeping me so busy right now that I don't even have time to remember I even have a blog?

Fuck.

One of the biggest problems, is, though. I'm really tired. I haven't had a decent night's sleep since I started back at school. But it isn't because of this class, it's because of the other lovely class I get to wonder into tomorrow evening.

Thoughts at 6am

Well, I got my assignment done and I didn't die. I'm amazed. And yes I did get a nice, new, blank, fresh stack of papers to write on last Tuesday.

On to the random thoughtage!

I just had this weird thought pop into my head and it made me aware of a pet peeve I didn't know I had. Apparently, it irritates me when you give a gift to a child and the parent prompts the child to say thank you or express some sort of gratitude. For one thing, it irks me because I hate it when parents/relatives "talk" for children (ie "Say 'yes ma'am' and also tell..."). On a different note, and this is the thought you've waited five lines for, I think when you give a gift to someone it should be with such a kind heart that the kindness doesn't require a thank you, but the happiness is gratitude enough. My mind continues on with this sort of diatribe "Maybe that's part of the cause of the 'me' phenomena. If children are taught to give something in return for a gift (the thank you) maybe in a round about way they learn to expect something in return when they give a gift." How many people do you know have had a bitch fit at one time or another because they gave someone something for their birthday or Christmas, but were mad because they got nothing in return? It may be unrelated, it may not be. It's six am, what the fuck do I know?

A Poem

I found this poem today working on some notes for stuff that I have to present tomorrow afternoon. I thought it was interesting. This isn't exactly a poetry blog, but, I'm sure there will be more poetry in the future.

The World Falling Down

I am in high disagreement,
With the Emotion
Deep in my Body.
Stirring.

Waiting.
Moving slowly as ice melts --
To set in motion,
The world falling down.

Life. Why it needs to go home.

I've been feeling a little over whelmed lately. Well, I've been feeling A LOT overwhelmed lately. I've spent countless hours at the law library this week and just barely feel as though I'm making any progress and my assignment's due on Tuesday, which seems a ways a way.

Unless you're me. Tuesday feels like tomorrow with the depth and time this assignment is taking. And when I get it done, there will be another one waiting for me on Tuesday. A new one. A blank one. An assignment I have to start from the beginning on and spent countless more hours at the law library on next week.

And then there are various other things demanding my attention. Other assignments, other obligations that I agreed to do a few months ago that are looming. Prioritizing is hard. Gah. My brain hurts and I'm sleepy. When I get all stressed, like I have been, I don't sleep well because it takes me a while to unwind enough to sleep, and then four hours later I have to get up. So I've only been sleeping little snippets this week, which adds to the problem because I can't think, and that makes my assignment go slower.

I was listening to a song at the coffee shop, and if I'm not mistaken it was Frank Sinatra singing about Paris.
Took me five minutes to realize he wasn't singing about Paris Hilton because she wasn't alive back then.

I need more espresso.

Pwned

I was sitting outside smoking with my brother the other day, and he was talking about going to work (which he hasn't done in a long LONG time, so you can understand me having a coronary problem with it). He brings up the fact that he wanted until the last minute to renew his license, which was on his birthday (May 22) and he hadn't gotten his new one just yet. So I told him, "Just drive with your old one and the online receipt that I'd like to believe you printed out."
Him: Well, on there they said that doesn't guarantee you don't get a ticket for driving without a license.
Me: Then don't give them a reason to pull you over.
Duh.

He left, and this was early afternoon (like, one or two). I checked the mail.
My brother had a letter from the Texas Department of Transportation in the mailbox. It felt like there was something hard and plastic and credit card sized in there.

I sent him this text message: I lol at you. Your license was in the mailbox.

He thinks I'm a big dork, but the truth is, he's been pwned by the mailman.

Singing In Pulic

I may be some kind of crazy...

So, I'm sitting at this coffee shop "studying" listening to music stuff and all I want to do is sing along with it. At the coffee shop. With other people.

Yeah, I'm not sure they'll appreciate it as much as me.

In other news, I bought this new shirt the other day that's awesome. Conversations with mom:
Me: Isn't it cute?!
Her: Yes. Does it make ya feel girly?
Me: No. Even better. It makes me feel half naked.

Can't wait to wear that one out to more places than the grocery store.

I don't know what the write

And I think I complain too much, and I'd hate to be one of "THOSE people."
One of THOSE people who needs to be lined up and shot, and calls you every five minutes to tell you how some dick just cut them off in traffic. Who, at every slight, calls you to tell you what a dick their boyfriend is, or what a bitch their girlfriend is, or if they're a nice mixture of crazy, both. I don't want to be one of THOSE people who just finds things to bitch about to make conversation. Drama is a form of mental disease, I'm convinced.

Today a guy who works for a cell phone store offered to mow my lawn in a pink Speedo to make up for all the text messages I've been charged for for sending to my friend that she hasn't gotten. At two cents a piece, we figure that's about fifty cents I'm out.
Get your Speedo buddy and start pullin weeds.

In other recent news, I went back to school on Tuesday. How very exciting.

Ah, the drugstore

I think Walgreen's has the very best candy. Mainly because they carry stuff that I loved as a kid that isn't carried at the grocery store (like them big chewy Sweet Tarts, you know who you are). So, I wondered in last night on a Swedish Red Fish run. I dutifully took three bags of the yummy little fish and a can of tea to the counter. The register guy asked me how I was doing, and I told him I was good. I asked him how he was doing.
He leaned in a bit, and with a tired look on his face he said, "Fair."
"Is it quitin time?" This is a question most retail/register/whatever people appreciate.
"Not until eight A.M., honey." (I'm pretty sure he was gay)
"Oh wow, that's early in the morning, and a long ways away." I gave him my sad, you poor thing look.
He perked up a bit, "But hey, I work in a drug store." I laughed SO hard I started coughing.
I told him that sounded really promising. It makes me think, maybe Walgreen's gives its employees speed. Must fill out application.

Yay College Books

I love being in college. There's something completely awesome about laying around all day and kind of doing homework, then cramming like a banshee come mid-terms and finals. One thing I hate, buying the damn books. Other than the fact that they're outrageously over priced, I can't stand the helpful people at the book store.
They are helpful. They are nice.

They're twits.
I've been in this game long enough to know the place backwards and forwards. So, I go to find my books. They have two of the four I need, and I already happen to have those two from a previous class. I'm studying to be a paralegal, it made sense to keep the citation books. That stuffs kind of important.
So I'm going to leave and the helpful girl working said "Did you find everything you need?"
Uhm, honey, I had NOTHING in my hands. So I told her no, that they didn't have any of the books I need. She asked if I was sure. I said yes, lots of empty shelf back there.
She took my schedule and proceeded back to the books.
"Wow, we're out of those books." Someone I assume to be the manager was on her tail, took down the authors and checked to see if they'd have them in. Wednesday. Which means I'd have to buy them new. Other than that, the last thing I want to do is go to the book store during the first week of school. So, I said that "I bet it's gonna be crazy." Helpful one replies "Well, not that crazy. More like.. a frat party." And I added to that, "With lots of artillery punch, I bet." She laughed, I think she might know what that is.
"Well, not to offend (and I knew it would) but I'm just going to check another book store. Thanks for your help." And wasting ten minutes of my precious time to confirm something I'd gotten twenty minutes ago.

I hate buying books. I hate overly helpful sales people. And salespeople, my heart goes out to you. You have a demanding job. Keeping bitchy twits like me happy all day every day. I salute you. But, for fucks sake, take a breath and try to understand TOO helpful is like a hot poker in the ass.

DO. NOT. WANT.