Heritage or hate?

I had planned on avoiding all things political, religious or controversial on this blog but that didn't last long. I have been watching the aftermath of the terrible tragedy in Charleston, SC and feel I must add my voice to the fray. I will try to be respectful and I ask you to do the same.

Being "Southern" is a complicated thing. It's more than a funny accent and a fondness for sweet tea. Southern people are for the most part kind, loving, funny, community-centered, family-oriented, generous, eccentric and often down right crazy. But there is also a dark side to being "Southern". There is grinding poverty, hopelessness, domestic and sexual abuse, lack of education, and a tendency to be an insular society. We really don't like to be told what to do...it puts our backs up so to speak. This leads to trouble and reinforcement of stereotypes.

I think everyone can agree that what happened in Charleston was horrific. There is no justification for it. It is repulsive and heart breaking. Did the Confederate flag cause this young man to commit this heinous act? Absolutely not. His hatred fueled his hand not a symbol. But this is where it gets tricky.

You can wax on and on about how the Civil War was fought over state's rights and not slavery. You can ignore the fact that part of the rights they wanted to protect were the rights to enslave other human beings for profit. I have no doubt that honorable men fought under that battle flag for what they believed to be an honorable cause. I disagree about the honorable cause part but I do not doubt their sincerity.

What I do object to is the use of that flag to spread hatred and fear. The KKK and other white power groups use that flag to sew dissent, spread their sickening hatred and cause others to be afraid. Just look at historic photos of Klan rallies and you will see it proudly displayed. Today people have forgotten just what the Klan was all about. It was not just about hating Black folks. They hated anyone of any color, Catholics, Jews, immigrants of all colors including the white folks who came from Ireland and other western European countries as well as gays, inter-racial couples and anyone else who didn't fit into their demented world view as deserving to be Americans.

If you want to celebrate your "Southern" heritage then love your family, support your community, be honest, have integrity, fight for what you believe is right, be funny, be eccentric, be crazy as shit, love God and do unto others what you would have done unto you. You do not need a symbol of hatred and divisiveness to do so. Stand up as "Southern" people and say we don't need a symbol of hatred to be ourselves and to be proud of who we are and where we came from. We do not need symbols of racism when we don't hold these views in our hearts. Be courageous for what is right! Violence, hatred and racism are not what is right. Be proud to be a caring and kind individual. And go have some sweet tea.

Namaste

Music and my brain and soul and heart...well all the best bits really.

I have always loved music. All kinds of music with a few exceptions that are really more about me disliking the lyrics or the message that is conveyed. For instance...I have always disliked The Rolling Stones "Under my Thumb" and I think the reasons are pretty self-explanatory.

My IPod is an eclectic mixture of all sorts or "rubbish" so in a sense it is much like my poor ADD brain. It's just all over the place. There is old school country from the 50's; pop from the 60's; soul, disco and all sorts of wonderfully bad stuff from the 70's; 80's electronica, punk and new wave; 90's grunge; and various oddness from a more recent age.

I remember the first ever record that I bought myself was a 45 of Tommy James's "Draggin' the Line." God, I loved that song. My first album was a really horrible piece of trash by a band called Bloodrock. The song was "DOA" and it was so morbid that I am surprised I survived listening to it. I used to treasure the Saturday mornings when my parents were out of the house so I could turn on American Bandstand and practice all the latest dance moves. Fat people got rhythm man...Charlie Brown says so!

My mom and dad loved music as well. As did my Grandfather B. I still have his albums somewhere packed away. Dad was more fond of honkytonk and old school country. Mom was always singing something really off key. She always told me she was in Glee club and I think she was very proud of that but man...singing was not really her forte. She had many other lovely qualities though so we shall give that a pass. My dad had a beautiful, deep, bass voice when you could get him to sing which was VERY rare. Alas, I inherited the deep, booming voice but also my mothers lack of knowing how to be on key. The radio was always on in the house or the car if the Cardinals were not playing. I grew up with a great soundtrack.

One of my fondest memories involves me, a forbidden song and a transistor radio with ear phones. You see there was this song  that ALL of the local radio stations had banned so we just knew it must be awesome! It was filth! So, of course, I had to listen to it for myself. So one summer night I laid in my bed with the window open and worked and worked to get my radio to pick up the Greenfield station. They were being rebels and playing said filth. So I finally got a rough signal and put the ear phones on a waited patiently. I didn't have to wait too long which was good considering I probably would have fallen asleep. On it came...The Tubes..."Don't Touch me There." I remember thinking...really? I expected so much more from a banned song but it was so worth the experience. I wonder what those same radio execs would think of "Back that thing up"? I digress...

Certain songs I will always connect with certain places and feelings. BTO's "Taking Care of Business" will always remind of being at the pool in the summer. The Hollies "Long, Cool Woman in Black Dress" will always remind me of summer evenings. Wham's "Careless Whisper" will always remind of my first love's betrayal. These things, good or bad, are priceless parts of our memories and our souls.

I have a fondness for women with strong voices. I cannot imagine why she says with a wry smile. I love Patsy Cline, KD Lang, Dusty Springfield, Jeanie Shepherd, Roberta Flack, Karen Carpenter, Barbara Streisand, Adele, Florence Welch...the list goes on and on. I love a woman that will just belt a song out with strength and great emotion. I love the way Chrissie Hynde caressed songs with the Pretenders. I love the saucy, swagger of an old Joan Jett song. I love the power of Pat Benetar and the strength and beauty and general rock goddessness of Ann and Nancy Wilson. All of these women and more I have forgotten have meant so much to me throughout the years. They have empowered me, gave me a voice, gave me an outlet for my jumbled emotions. And damn that Bonnie Raitt makes me cry every time I hear "I can't make you love me." I hate it and love it at the same time.

What I am trying to say is that music is my primary source of expression. If I cannot find the words I will often send you a song. I feel so strongly about the music that I love and listen to that I get self-conscious about other people hearing what is playing. Is it a fear that they will judge me? Maybe. Is it a fear that them hearing it will take away some it's magic for me? Maybe. Is it that is so much a part of my soul and I am being that selfish about sharing it? Most likely. Despite the fact that you will often see me driving down the road singing at the top of my lungs (off key I am sure) it is an intensely personal moment for me. Music is my friend, my therapy and my love. Rock on every one! Find your musical niche and embrace it and hug it and love it and express it and sing lustily along to it.  

Rainbows and casinos and turtles and stuff

It's been an odd weekend. I find that being an introvert and having ADD sucks! You do not want to go out but your brain is so antsy that it's go out or implode. Relaxing at home never can last all day for me unless the weather is so hideous that I cannot go outside somewhere. It's aggravating. I envy all you who can happily hang out on the couch all day or just enjoy a nice day putzing around the house. I mean...I can nap with the best of them but that only works for so long until you are having nightmares about kittens and waking up with a splitting headache.

So I went out to the casino yesterday to ease my brain spasms. I should have known when I pulled into the parking lot it was going to be weird. Right off the bat there was a guy in the parking lot with an AR-15 slung over his shoulder. Now...I am thinking that anywhere that allows both automatic weapons and alcohol cannot be a good place for me but I went in anyway. I found myself a cute Goldilocks and the Three Bears machine and sat down to make my contribution to the tribe. Right off the bat the band started playing "Eastbound and Down" from Smokey and the Bandit and not playing it all that well either. I thought...oh lord deliver me. Then I won 666 credits on a bonus and I thought well this can't be good. The machine amused for awhile and I made my usual contribution and thought I am stopping at that Dairy Queen on the way home and getting me an Oreo Blizzard. Despite the bizarre angle of the drive thru I managed to get my ice cream. Then I get an e-mail telling me my statement was in on one of my credit cards but that is not the last four digits of that particular card. I managed to eat my ice cream despite the growing fear of identity theft drama and when I got home I found out all is well. They just upgraded to me one of those chip cards which they have not mailed to me or informed me about...thanks for the mini heart attack.

Today was less antsy than yesterday for some reason. I went out for drive this afternoon with my trusty camera and took a lot of pictures. I saw all sorts of critters that I did not get pictures of despite my best efforts and a few that did pose for me. I had a gopher try to commit suicide right in front of my bumper but I missed him thank God. I saw a Bambi, a raccoon, a turkey, plenty of turkey buzzards, birds of all kind, dogs, cows, horses, goats and turtles. I saw one poor turtle who had just been clipped by a car. He was pissed...when I slowed down he spun around and hissed at me. I apologized for the idiot human who clipped him and drove on feeling horrible that he will die a painful death but that there was nothing I could do about it. PEOPLE...DO NOT HIT TURTLES!!!  It's vicious and cruel.

I was still feeling all sad about the turtle when I turned left on a road and there was the most beautiful rainbow and that made it a little better. I texted a friend in Colorado about the rainbow and low and behold they had one two. It seems so amazing to me to have rainbows 600 and some miles apart. It's got to be a sign of something.

Sometimes it's a pain in the ass not ending a sentence in a preposition...oh look a chicken!

Owen would like to register another complaint. Not only has mother picked him twice this weekend and petted him and kissed him and made sissy cooing noises at him but she also has a new name for him that he resents. Mother picked him up the other day and out of blue called him a chunky monkey. Now that is the sort of unfortunate nickname that can follow a poor poodle for the rest of his days. Just ask Fiona, boo-boo butt, or Lester, the drunken sailor boy or any of mother's other animals who have had the unpleasant experience of having a hideous nickname. Please make it stop. (It's a good thing he never met Cleopatra coming up the Nile on her own built-in barge)

Just a few tidbits of rubbish

Today I saw a hand-made sign that had a phone number on top followed by "cash for diabetic testing strips". WTF????

Have you ever been mowing the yard and hit a stick just right so that it moved like a snake? Then you jump a foot in the air and shout "Jesus" for good measure? I am not sure what my brain was thinking Jesus was going to do for me in that split second when I thought I had mown a snake but it seemed appropriate to invoke his name at that time just in case.

Remember my post from yesterday? Today I walked into a restaurant to pick up a catering order for work. The young man smiled and said "Hi!...Can I help you sir?" I mean I wasn't expecting the world to change over night but this just seems an especially rude thing for the universe to do to me today. I almost cried in frustration.

Dear Spiders: You suck and you all need to die! I know this is not very Buddha or Christ-like but I cannot abide those serial killers of the insect world.

Good night everyone. My brain is tired.

Trying to be comfortable in my own fur.

I have never been comfortable being a "girl". That being said...I have also never wanted to be a boy. I much preferred doing "boy" things. I could play catch for hours. I loved to wander in the woods and play army. I preferred my GI Joe to Barbie and her friends. When you are little you can get by with all of this because you are a "tom boy". You know...it's just a phase...wait til' she hits puberty and it will all change. OOPS!!

From a VERY young age I detested all things "girlie". My mom would put me in a dress for some reason and I would be a miserable, cranky little monster until I could get out of it. I never felt comfortable in a dress. I think dresses made me feel vulnerable and at risk. (I had good reason to feel that way...but that's another blog) I felt like a ginormous T-Rex wearing a tutu...or at the very least like a sailor in drag.

You see...I am a big girl. I am not just referring to my girth which has gotten way out of hand over the years but I am a big girl. My frame is large.Even if I was a "normal" weight...whatever that is...I would still be a big boned girl. I am older now but still strong as an ox. It hurts more to use that strength but it's still there. Aside from the obvious genetics at play here I have also suffered from PCOS my whole life. For those of you not in the know...PCOS is a medical condition which causes me to have cysts on my ovaries and those cysts create a whole myriad of lovely side effect...not the least of which is my size. My whole life I have had to cope with not enough estrogen and too much androgen. When I was in high school I had a lovely spike and could not hit the alto notes so I had to sing bass with the boys. That wasn't too weird she says hopefully.

You may be asking yourself...why are we talking about this...or well...really rambling about this subject. It's because my therapist accidentally poked the bear the other day. I was discussing how people often stare at me like I am a zoo exhibit or I get double looks in the bathroom while they try to decide which one of us is in wrong room. Innocently it was asked why I do not do more to look "feminine" so people would not look at me that way. I promptly responded because I don't WANT to look more "feminine"...I want to be me. This was followed much ranting by me all evening. I was just angry!

Yes, I keep my hair very short. It's not to look masculine it is because my hair is VERY thick and hard to control when it gets long and I lack the motivation to do anything more than wash it and brush it. So I keep it short so it will look less messy for a longer period of time. Yes, except for undergarments I do wear men's clothes. It's not too look masculine it is because I want to be comfortable both physically and emotionally. I feel like an alien visiting a strange planet if I get too close to the women's section. I do NOT find women's clothes appealing on any level. I just don't like them and I don't like the way they look on me. I wear men's clothes because they "fit" better on my androgen fueled frame and I feel comfortable in them. I can do nothing about my "masculine" features. Genetics and hormones have made me who I am and I cannot do much about that issue. Nor have I ever felt inclined to cover up who I am.

Gender and the characteristics of what are considered "masculine" and "feminine" have been imposed upon us by a culture dominated by patriarchy and I for one am fed up with it. The media, the pundits, the fashion industry etc...want to put us all in neat little boxes of their own design. It's all about control you see. If you will not conform to our box we shall stare at you and try to make you feel uncomfortable until you change. This goes for men and women. Well this blog is an appeal to everyone out there who might encounter any one of us who do not fit into your "boxes". Before you label or judge someone who doesn't fit societal norms just have a think about what you are doing. That person might just be trying to live a happy well-adjusted life. STOP trying to stifle the creative spirit of others. STOP trying to force others into your "boxes" so that YOU will be comfortable with their appearance. Give one another the freedom to be comfortable in their own skin. And then maybe you will find a way to be comfortable in yours.

Conspiracy!

There is a conspiracy afoot in my house. A vicious betrayal by one of my furry children. An unholy cabal has been secretly meeting unbeknownst to me and they have been plotting my downfall.

You may be wondering how I discovered the details of this heinous plot brewing right underneath my nose? Well let me tell you...Fiona is not only the house disciplinarian but also a big tattletale. Being the oldest, if not the wisest, of my kids she understands that momma is the one who acquires the kibbles for her consumption. This instills in her a keen sense of self-preservation...if not devotion.

So Fiona has tattled on the culprits to me. Evidently the tiny, blood-thirsty, succubi inhabiting my back yard have infiltrated the house and begun negotiations with the cat. If Kitten Face will only destroy the fearsome "All natural" Yard Guard for them they will, in turn, carry off one of the dogs for her. It will probably be Owen since he's the littlest and barkiest of the group. (She would really prefer to get rid of Fiona but there are not enough mosquitos in the state to pick up the Princess and carry her off.)

They attempted to exercise their nefarious scheme night before last. I was sitting on the couch, staring at my laptop in a ADD induced daze, trying to save butterflies from the evil spider when I heard a loud bang and Fiona flew (well limped) off barking in an effort to thwart the plot. Of course this adds to the racket but she doesn't get that. When I finally managed to tear myself away from my noble quest I went to check the usual objects of Kitten Face's wrath. I did not see anything overt so went to the bathroom, got another Coke and went back to saving the butterflies.

Right before bed time I began the process of taking the dogs out to potty. Oh yeah...it's a process. First, I call Fiona from wherever she is pouting to give her a head start. My poor boo boo butt and her hips. Sigh...I digress. Second, I have to try and wake up Lester. You'd think that would be an easy thing but it's not. I have to touch him a couple of times and then wait for him to retract his tongue and gather his wits. Finally, I have to try and herd Owen to a spot where I can pick him up. Hopefully before Lester pees because you have just woken him up and he has a tiny bladder. I can relate.

So, after completing this process we head to the back steps where I flip on the light and see just how heinous my cat's betrayal has become. For there...lying on the cement steps...is the can of "All natural" yard guard with the plastic top broken off. This act of perfidity resulted in my using a profanity followed by Kitten Face. I put down Owen outside and assessed the damage. I thought at first their plot had succeeded but alas...BWHAHAHAHAHA...the lever to release the aerosol is in tact. I popped it back on  and went outside to massacre a few of the conspirators with gleeful malice...in an "all natural" way of course. I have won the first battle in the on-going struggle. Perhaps those blood thirsty beasts will reconsider using Kitten Face as a co-conspirator...but alas she really is all they got. My dogs just aren't motivated enough to risk their kibble delivery system. The war continues....

Ramblings from a possilbly deeply disturbed mind

Just random things that have run through my day...

Something you just don't hear every day..."last night I got an okra seed stuck up my hole." (Speaker anonymous for her own protection) You gotta' admit...taken out of context this one sentence is pretty hysterical. I wheezed and snorted and guffawed.

I find it disturbing that the ice cream trucks drive down the street with "La Cucaracha" blaring.

My dog Lester is a disturbed carpet licker and it's making Fiona and myself nuts. Owen cannot decide which dog bed he wants to lie in. He's now made it to all three this evening. It's like a poodle reenacting Goldilocks and the Three Bears. There's too much breeze in this bed. And this bed is not soft enough and it's too close to the cat. I guess I will lie in the new bed with my back to everyone in case the bears come back to eat me.

Why is it that I cannot wait to get home at night to rest after work and then within an hour I am bored and making myself cranky? Damn ADD!!

I am REALLY tired of reading about people being mean and nasty to other people. What is wrong with you!! Stop it!!

Whoever thought of putting pajamas on baby goats is a freaking genius!!!!

I miss laughing with Julie and Inez.

I have only ever wanted to be loved and to love in return. That doesn't seem so much to ask.

I shall now sacrifice myself to the tiny succubi in my back yard so the dogs can go potty. If I disappear check the mosquito dens for me.

The Break up story

Relationships are difficult at the best of times. Tonight I am sad to relate the tale of my break up with my lawn mower.

Up until tonight my lawn mower and I had a very cordial, reciprocal type relationship. I gave it gas and oil and kept it covered up so it wouldn't get wet or too cold and all I asked in return was that it start and mow the damn yard. Tonight we had our first big fight...I dare say it won't be the last.

I put gas in the mower and it decided it would rather flood than try and tackle the rain soaked, mosquito-infested, jungle that had become my back yard. I took a deep breath and sat down for awhile and waited for it to get over itself. But no...it decided that it could out-stubborn me...silly machine.

So we continued to fight because my ADD would not allow me wait long enough for it to become amenable to my quest. So for an hour and a half we fought. I said lots of bad words. I questioned the legitimacy of the lawn mower's parentage. Finally, in a moment of high childishness, I even kicked it. Which, of course, only served to hurt my ankle which had been sore but was finally feeling better. This resulted in me breaking up with my lawn mower. I said one final, rude, epithet and shoved it up against the house, threw the tarp over and said screw this...I am going to Sonic.

So I went to Sonic where I drowned my sorrow and appeased my broken heart with a double cheeseburger, tater tots and a large Coke. (Yes...I am aware that I do eat rubbish.) I came home still bitching and grumbling to myself and ate my dinner. Then...in a moment of weakness I thought I will try once more before giving up for the night.

Evidently the lawn mower missed me and decided we should get back together. It started the first try and I thought...oh great...now I have to speed mow to get done before dark. I realize this is irrationally ungrateful...you don't need to point it out. I once again questioned the legitimacy of its parentage and took off across the meadow. I finished just in time. Then I came inside and had an affair with a hot shower just to spite the lawnmower. Hah...I won!! It's a hollow victory but it's all mine and the yard is mowed.

Now I will have to see if the weed eater and I can resolve our differences as well. How is this easier than just having goats? Sheesh....