As Seen On The Bathroom Wall

The best ideas come while sitting on the pot.

So my husband and I had a discussion the other day about public restrooms. He wanted to know why women took so long in there? What was the deal, he wanted to know.

So I explained it to him - broke it down if you will.

Women are planners. Even the spontaneous, unpredictable ones plan their bathroom trips. Even if they don't realize they're doing it, they do. There are several different types of planners, as well as their respective plans that, if you pay close attention (hello guys) will follow a pattern that you can almost always predict.

Whatever the plan, however, the formula always tends to involve three main steps:

  • Find cleanest stall the furthest away from the door.
  • Make as little noise as possible while inside the stall.
  • Re-apply cosmetic.
Now, as simple as these steps may seem, there is a lot involved in them, for each step contains within them countless sub-steps that can often times cause delays that end up creating a backlog of problems that every other woman now standing in line must contend with.

Let's start with step number one. A woman likes to be clean. This is why she wants the cleanest stall in the bathroom. However, let's face it women, we're pigs. We're sows in the pig pen of humanity when it comes to our public restrooms. We would never leave drips or floaties in the toilet at home, so why do we do it at public restrooms? It's disgusting!

This being said, when there are no other alternatives, when you cannot find a single stall that is floatie or drop free, you're stuck having to take one of those sub-steps I spoke about: cleaning the seat and flushing. Now, the former can be done with mild disgust, followed by a moment of air drying, a double layer of toilet seat cover-pseudo protection, and then...release. However, the latter of the two is a whole other story. If there's something in there that needs flushing, chances are when you flush that toilet, it's going to spray some heavily noxious liquid up into the air and...yep, you guessed it. ONTO THE SEAT. So then we repeat the entire seat wiping, drying, covering process before the eventual release. By then, you're probably well on your way to a nice, fully invested urinary tract infection. Add another strike against that whole female cleanliness thing while you're at it.

This, of course, brings us to the next step. "Make as little noise as possible while in the stall." Sounds pretty easy, right? Wrong. See, for some strange reason, women don't like knowing that other women are hearing them do their business. It doesn't really matter what it is, but there is a hierarchy when it comes to absolute embarrassment on the bodily function scale. At the bottom of the rung is urinating. Well, women don't "urinate". This is a feminine process, so it's "peeing" or "tinkling". It's definitely not "pissing" because that would imply we're masculine and, unless you're perfectly okay with that, no woman wants her down-there-area associated with anything that you can write with.

Women are mildly accepting of urinating because it's unavoidable and, for most, impossible to keep at bay. Women will often take a friend with them into the restroom and, as though it had been agreed on beforehand - silently - the friend will begin washing her hands while the other does her thing. The sound of the water helps mask the...event, thereby easing the woman's embarrassment.

Second on that totem pole of embarrassment, and something that most women between the age of 13 and 56 can relate to, is the removal of the sanitary napkin. Oh that wonderful sound of adhesive being yanked off of a cotton panty and a new one being torn out of its unmistakable packaging. All women recognize the sound immediately, and it cannot be masked by running water. Thus enters the hot air hand dryer. That ever present friend, after washing her hands queues up to the dryer and, through some unspoken signal, refuses the paper towel and instead slams her hand against that large, silver button that sends that rush of loud, hot air blasting onto her hands, essentially baking in that lovely hard water she just sacrificed her hands to.

Most women have unnaturally speedy hands during this brief, thirty second moment of distraction, and can remove, wrap, unwrap, and place a sanitary napkin with enough time leftover to flush and leave a soaking wet seat behind her. It defies the laws of physics if you think about it, but most of us don't, so let's move on.

The third, and highest place on that totem pole is the king of all things embarrassing. It makes women stutter, turns their faces a magnificent shade of vermilion, and can render even the most intelligent of women absolutely speechless. It is: crapping. Women use euphemisms for defecating as well; pooing, doing number two, having a "BM". It's basically taking a shit with lace and flowers and sparkly moon dust. Only, we women know there is no lace and the only thing that smells like flowers is the automatic air freshener that just sprayed overhead, as though it knew what was coming. Let's also not forget that the only thing sparkling are the stars in our eyes when we realized that the woman in the stall next to us can smell it, too.

For some reason, women just do not like to take a dump in public. It's the absolute holy grail of things we won't do. We'll wear jeans that bare our ass crack to everyone and their grandchildren. We'll give birth in the middle of the freeway. Hell, we'll even have sex in elevators. But take a shit in a public bathroom? Now you've gone too far!

And so, as women, when we have no other alternative, when our sphincters are simply incapable of staving off any longer the brown recluse that threatens to poison not only our underwear and outer clothing, but also our social life, we sacrifice a little bit of our dignity and take the plunge. While I cannot guarantee much about the where, when, or why, I can guarantee that this will be the fasted bowel movement that each woman ever had. She will push that bad boy out so fast she'll create dents, and time might actually begin to move backwards just a bit to accomodate such a feat. And all of this is done so for one reason and one reason only: WE DO NOT WANT ANYONE ELSE TO KNOW WE'RE THE ONE FUNKING UP THE PLACE.

We will get this part over as quickly as possible because logic dictates that if a woman is spending more time in the stall than the other, then SHE must be the ones causing that foul odor. We forget, however, that if we're thinking out this strategy, then the other woman has thought that as well, and might have even pulled something like that off herself. The plots are ever thickening in a restroom, people. Even if no one is talking.

Hey, I forgot to mention one important piece of information that is extremely vital to the entire process and also helps to explain why some of us take longer than others. Many stalls do not come with locks on the doors, and for some reason, women can't function without that door being closed. This is where the foot-lock method comes into play. We raise one foot and press it firmly against the door, holding it shut against intrusion from any other clean-stall-searching woman who passed over the drippy, floater-having stall we did moments earlier. And yes, we women do bend down to see if a stall that is locked is occupied, and being women, we know when we see a one-legged woman sitting down without a cane nearby that she's probably got the one with the broken lock and so we say a silent prayer of thanks that, if we have to flush and wipe before we sit, at least we can do so with both feet on the ground.

Now, these two things usually proceed without much in the way of interruption, but should one occur, it usually - okay ALWAYS - comes in the form of the most annoying and absolutely inexcusable offense in bathroom etiquette: THERE'S NO TOILET PAPER.

We women are greedy when it comes to toilet paper, so we use a lot of that stuff. Women could wipe out an entire forest with just toilet paper alone because let's face it - we gotta wipe! So you can imagine what happens when we reach for that ubiquitous little square of white and find that there is none. A prepared woman won't panic, of course. She'll simply reach into her purse and pull out her trusty little pack of facial tissue. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the industrious women who MacGuyver themselves a couple of usable pieces of paper from the leftover cardboard roll. (That's where those callouses come from, by the way.) And then there are those in the middle. The ones who come neither prepared nor capable of jury-rigging themselves a square or two of emergency vag-wipes. These women take bathroom personal space to a whole new level, taking it upon themselves to ASK the woman in the next stall if she has any toilet paper that she could use.

Now, many of you might remember the scene in Seinfeld where Elaine went into the restroom and discovered that there was no toilet paper available, and when she asked if she could have a square, the response that met her was "I have no square to spare." We didn't know if she did or not. Well, the men didn't, anyway. But we women, we knew. We knew that by saying "I have no square to spare", the woman was really saying "Ew, I'm not sharing my toilet paper with you!"

Toilet paper is a commodity. You don't give it away for free - not when you have yet to wipe yourself. It's a matter of restroom survival - it's every woman's sanitation for herself. Granted, most of us WILL pass over a wad because we've been in that position ourselves before - it's why we started carrying around that purse-sized pack of kleenex - but some will refuse because, yet again, we've been in that position before and we were burned. We were burned - hard. And those scars haven't healed yet. And never will. But oh, do they feel better when we're the ones doing the burning...

Moving on, after our business has been concluded, toilets flushed, packages dumped, lingering funk trapped between stalls for the next occupant to expire from, we arrive to our last step. The reapplication of the cosmetics. Now granted, not every woman wears makeup, but don't let the name fool you. Cosmetic merely applies to the outward appearance. Hair, lips, eyes, clothes - whatever is outside is part of the reapplication process. We wash our hands and we dry them, then we return to the mirror to make sure that we look okay, because the last thing we want is to leave the restroom and face our impatient and upset significant others looking like we'd just taken a warp speed dump with one leg up in the air.


Rape Should Never Be Arbitrary

Take a look at these names:

Richard Burr (R-NC)
Tom Coburn (R-OK)
Mike Crapo (R-ID)
Jim DeMint (R-SC)
John Isakson (R-GA)
John McCain (R-AZ)
Richard Shelby (R-AL)
John Thune (R-SD)
David Vitter (R-LA)

Remember them come election time next year if they happen to represent your districts. These 9 men are part of a larger group of 30 who've chosen to take the side of large corporations who deem rape amongst employees to be something not worth criminally investigating but rather handled in-house via arbitration.

In layman's terms, they condone rape.

How? By believing that making contract clauses requiring victims of rape by fellow employees to not report said rape to the police illegal is wrongful governmental interference. Oh yes. The same individuals who went on for hours regarding ACORN, and how the government needs to get involved, are saying that the government should not bother with these corporations, that government shouldn't...well...govern, and that the Senate doesn't do things like that.

It's laughable, to be sure, to hear such a thing being uttered on Capitol Hill, but the sad reality is that there's nothing funny about rape. There's nothing amusing, enjoyable, or pleasant about it. How would any of those men feel if it had been their wife or their daughter who had been raped? How would they feel if their loved ones had been raped by a trusted co-worker, after being harassed without rebuke from supervisors, only to then be raped again - figuratively - by their employers who tell them that they can either handle it in arbitration or lose their job?

Well, I can probably guess, judging by their voting record and their speeches just what they think.

Tom Coburn, for example, condemns abortion in all cases - including rape - because his grandmother was raped.

It seems quite ironic, doesn't it? The Republican party strung up Bill Clinton by his balls in front of all of the world because he had consensual oral sex with an intern and set forth the only Impeachment ever to occur in the history of our country, and yet non-consensual sex, aka RAPE - RAPE-RAPE if Whoopi is reading this - is supported and protected! Who wants to be the person who voted in someone who condones rape? You? Do you want to be THAT husband? THAT father? Brother? Do you want to be that wife? That mother? Sister?

There are 30 men who run this country who condone rape, and we now know their names.

If we can't force them out, then let's vote them out.


Hairy situation

I have an eight year-old daughter who is a beautiful, funny, smart, quick-witted child. She's friendly - almost to a fault - and she loves to read. She is, quite simply, a fantastic child. So, you can imagine how difficult it was for me to hear her say to me one day in a distressed voice, "Mommy, can I start shaving my legs?"

"Why?" I asked, knowing that her legs are quite hairy but never seeing that as being a problem since she is, after all, only eight.

"Because two of my friends at school tease me about it," came her reply.

Initially I thought to tell her to ignore the teasing since it is par for the course when you're a child: you get teased, you tease others, you laugh, share milk, and run around on the playground.

But then I thought to ask another question. "What do they say?"

"They said that I need to shave my legs, and if I don't shave my legs then I'm 'butchy'."

Well, this changes things. Eight year-olds using the term "butchy" is quite unnerving, especially since they're the ones who explained to my eight year-old what that term meant (to them). That, of course, wasn't the worst of it. No. See, I then led my questioning down its natural path and wound up with this final one: "Do they shave their legs?"


Call me floored. Call me shell-shocked, dumbfounded, flustered, and quite simply dismayed. Eight year-old little girls...shaving their legs?


I quickly went into damage control mode then, because let's face it, being a girl is one of the toughest things one can be. There are so many outside influences that alter and mutate our own self-perception. My daughter, who's cared little to nothing about how she looked on the outside, has suddenly become self-conscious of parts of her body that are inconsequential to who she is as a person. Immediately, I told her that eight is far too young to be shaving one's legs, regardless of how much hair is on there, or what their so-called friends might have to say about it.

I also told her, in no uncertain terms, that not shaving one's legs doesn't make one "butchy", and that term isn't to be used again by her because it's insulting. I then lifted the leg of my pants and showed her my own hairy gams and asked her if she thought that what her friends had described fit me in any way. She shook her head and laughed, then asked why I didn't shave.

"Because I don't care what other people think about what I look like. Mommy doesn't need someone else to tell me that my legs are hairy to know that they are, just like Mommy doesn't need someone else to tell me that my legs are nice to know that they are. What other people say isn't as important as how you feel about yourself. Shaving your legs won't make you a better person. Those girls shave their legs but it hasn't made them any nicer, now has it?"

She shook her head and gave me a somber "No." It broke my heart then because I was witnessing the realization within her that these girls she thought were her friends were exactly the type of people she did not want to be around. It was a heartbreaking thing to witness, especially after seeing the hurt in her eyes just moments earlier, but it was one that she needed to experience. At eight, you're so optimistic about everything, and you want to believe that everyone is nice, or that everyone can be, and so when it turns out that that's not the case, it can be a tragedy of sorts and all I wanted to do was take my little girl into my arms and hug her and tell her that if shaving her legs would make her happy then she could do it until the cows came home.

Instead, I took her into the bathroom, handed her my Venus razor and shaving cream and stuck out my hairy leg. She looked at it like it was some kind of scary science experiment, one that would be messy, dangerous, and fraught with complications. Which, if you're an eight year-old girl, is exactly the kind of science experiment you want to do. So she went to work, and after three cuts to my ankle, a muffled g-rated curse from me, a sasquatchy-looking blob of foam attacking her hand, and a rather long four minutes of tongue - and nail - biting concentration and suspense filled silence, she's come to the conclusion that shaving is simply too complicated to get into right now.

"I think I'll wait until I'm Hannah Montana's age to start shaving," she announced emphatically, her foamy, hairy hands waving in defeat at the remaining acreage of hair left remaining on my legs.

"That's my girl," I said, smiling. "Now go get Mommy the first-aid kit."


Poor Tila Tequila

Wow, two blogs in one day!

I was planning on ignoring that whole Tila Tequila/Shawne Merriman debacle because quite frankly, she's an attention whore and he was stupid enough to date her, and when you mix whores and stupidity together, you get a pretty noxious combination of karma. Well, unfortunately for Shawne Merriman, karma came by way of an assault allegation. Not just assault - attempted murder.


Because Tila Tequila, born Thien Thanh Thi Nguyen, is a damned bad liar, that's why.

See, when you put the two stories together, something just doesn't sound right. At first, it seems quite obvious who's telling the truth: He says he was restraining her from driving drunk, she says he assaulted her and choked her; he's a giant compared to her; she went to the hospital.

Lots of foreign terms were used, like "citizen's arrest" - which wouldn't mean much to anyone unless you're a fan of Police Academy 3 - but when people see the word "arrest", they automatically think police>cuffs>jail>guilty. It all goes hand in hand. In an instant, Shawne went from average NFL player to attempted murderer. Like being called a rapist, or a child molester, that's a label that gets tattooed onto your body with lasers. It doesn't come off, and it'll never fade, especially not with the internet so readily available to every bored googleologist in the world.

Women rallied to Tila's side, crying "abuse" and shouting for "justice!"

Trouble was, the only thing Tila seemed to care about was attention. She stopped tweeting for one day, and then quick as a flash - or as some people have deduced, a hangover recovery period - she was back, tweeting about woe is her, justice, pictures, witnesses, and DA meetings.

Trouble is, there has been no corroborative testimony, either public or otherwise, to confirm her side of the story. When Shawne explained his side, she lashed out on twitter to say that he's lying because she's "allergic to alcohol" which, if you're Asian like me, simply means your face gets red as a freaking beet and everyone knows you were completely tossed. Let's be honest here, the girl's been drunk on television more time than Paris Hilton's panties have been on TMZ. This isn't a secret, so for her to say something that ridiculously and patently false is one obvious sign that there are cracks in her story that are wider than...well, I won't go there. Add on to that the fact that paramedics stated that they saw no visible injuries to Tila when they arrived and took her to the hospital.

Now, I understand that some individuals will claim that bruises don't normally show up until twenty-four hours after an assault, but this simply isn't true. Bruising can be almost instantaneous, depending upon the person. Also, the skin around the neck is very delicate, and bruising there will become visible within minutes. Redness from the contact will be visible immediately. Add to that the damage that strangulation will do to the capillaries in the eyes, even if only slightly, and you've got very visible evidence that someone has been choked, whether by a hand, an arm, or an object. Paramedics are trained to spot signs of oxygen deprivation that can be caused by an attempted strangulation. Also, vocal chords can be damaged that would impair an individual's ability to speak. All of these things would have been noticed by EMTs/Paramedics/Police Officers/hospital staff. Any of these things would have been evidence enough to file charges against Shawne Merriman for assault and possibly attempted murder/manslaughter.

The recent photographs that Tila "released" to TMZ show bruising "one day" after the alleged incident. Anyone who has ever been choked or restrained violently knows that those bruises are far too faint to have been caused within a twenty-four hour time period. There's yellowing to the bruises on her arms, which implies healing. There appears to be no bruising to her throat, and as someone who knows what being choked feels like and looks like, I simply cannot take her at her word that she was, in fact, choked. Could she have been restrained? That's not in question. Shawne admitted to restraining her. The bruises on her arms make quite clear in that regard that someone was holding her tightly there, forcefully if you will, and his explanation seems more plausible given the nature of the supposed altercation. If what he says is true, then that makes even more egregious the claims that she's made.


Because thousands of women out there are afraid to come forward with their own tales of abuse because they fear they won't be believed, and women like Tila Tequila are, in part, greatly to blame for it. Whenever a woman falsely cries rape or abuse, it pushes back the advances that women have made to tell their stories, to get help, to seek justice. There was a stigma attached to rape and abuse, that the women either deserved it or were simply saying it because they were jealous, or angry at their husbands/lover, and often times a woman was punished for even trying to get help. The system would return her to her abuser, and she would suffer for the audacity to seek sanctuary from any source. From woman's suffrage to equal pay for equal work, it's been a struggle to gain any ground in this world if you happen to have been born with ovaries and a vagina, and women died fighting for rights that far too many of us take for granted today.

And so when someone like Tila Tequila comes along and starts calling for justice for her because no one believed her blatantly false tales, what she does is not point the light of scrutiny at herself, but at the female population in general. The next time a female is genuinely assaulted by a celebrity, the number of people who doubt her claim will be far, far larger than those that exist today, and I'd bet that a great deal will bring up this particular incident as justification for their skepticism.

Without a doubt, the most vulgar and tasteless thing that she's done has been to bring up abuse and homicide victim, Jasmine Fiore, into the equation which, while it doesn't surprise me given the levels of depravity to which she has already stooped, still disgusts me. She's attempting to compare herself to this poor girl because she's looking for sympathy that she's probably not going to receive now that the DA has opted to dismiss the case entirely due to insufficient evidence. She's taken to the internet airwaves, tweeting over and over again how she deserves justice for what happened to her, how she was almost killed, et al. She has hordes of loyal "followers" RT (repeat tweeting/relay tweeting) her every post, which means, of course, that a trending topic has been created. I don't really care about that - way to use the internet and people efficiently! - but I do have a problem with the fact that a woman who claims she was abused would repeatedly lie to the very people who tell her - in no uncertain terms - that they love her, respect her, support her. She should go into politics if that's her game!

Seriously, this is one of those moments in life where you have to wonder just how shallow our country is, when we've placed this tiny, insignificant person so high up on a pedestal for drinking, being promiscuous, and wearing minimal clothing that we'd look the other way while she ruins the reputation and potentially the career and life of an innocent man all because she couldn't hold her liquor and didn't want to admit it.

And yes, I'm saying that's what I think happened. I don't have the facts - no one has to tell me the obvious here, Captain - but when the "facts" as they have been given to both the public and the government officials who oversee the prosecuting of alleged criminals show no corroboration for her, and everything for him, and her lies keep piling up one on top of the other, there's little else anyone can deduce from this travesty.

I hope she gets some help, I do. And I hope she apologizes for what she's done. Her actions will bear repercussions for many generations to come that will affect far more than the two parties involved. She might not realize that now - nor care - but many men and women do, and they're the ones who have to live with the consequences of her actions, while she tweets...


Things I don't understand...

I haven't written a blog in months and for that I apologize. It's been a hectic time and I'm just tired...

But enough of the pity party. This is a list of things that have come to my attention that makes me question what exactly is depleting our common sense supply. Where has it gone? Has it developed cancer, like compassion has? Did it commit suicide like reason did? Or has it been kidnapped, like logic was? Whatever the case, please bear with me in this slightly organized, somewhat chaotic rant that may or may not piss you off, but it's doing wonders for me right now.

  • Why do people who are against Health Care Reform(HCR) say "Well, my health plan is just fine." as though they expect it to be exactly the same with everyone? Don't they see that that's the problem, that it's not the same?

  • why do people who are against HCR say "maybe you should have taken better care of yourself" or "maybe you shouldn't have gotten sick" when they hear stories of individuals whose insurance companies dropped them from their rolls because they were diagnosed with an illness? I'm sure Dana Reeves was doing everything in her power to NOT develop lung cancer, and yet she was diagnosed with it and died a year later from it. Her, a non-smoker, a healthy eater, a woman who was very conscientious about bacteria and the overall health of herself considering that her husband was a quadriplegic and she was the mother of a young son died cancer. Saying that she "should have taken better care of herself" is not only insensitive lacking in compassion, it's also ignorant.

  • Why do people who are against HRC think that everything will be solved if people "just got better jobs"? Let's face it, society is built on a tier system, and some people will do far more menial jobs than others, and as a society, we expected that someone will do these things, like pick up our trash, serve us our food, fix our hotel bed and change our sheets, pick our fruits and vegetables, and slaughter our meat. There's nothing demeaning about those positions, and every single one of the people who do those jobs works very hard for little pay and obviously far less gratitude and respect than those who work white collar, professional and skilled careers, so why is it that they don't deserve good, affordable health care too, without having to somehow climb to the standards that someone else looking from above them socially has set?

  • Why is it that those whom oppose HRC are screaming and shouting at town hall meetings, posting up pictures of Obama dressed as Hitler, calling him a Nazi, saying that he's going to kill Down Syndrome babies and grandmothers, and then claim that he's being uncivilized and rude and taking away their freedoms? Hasn't he been calm and rational throughout this entire debacle, despite the insults, the threats, the rude and childish acts perpetrated upon him by those who are the first to shout "socialism" and the last to explain it? Whether you agree with his policies or not, doesn't an accusation of lack of civility first require that one was civil to them first?

  • Why is the media writing about the anti-choice activist who was killed in Michigan as though he was the only one who mattered in those killings? Why does the media do that? Two men were killed today, both shot by the same man, and the only one who's getting any focus is the one whose views happened to be "pro-life". Is the other victim's life simply not as important because he wasn't as vocal about his beliefs? I don't care what your opinion on abortion is - no one deserves to be killed for it - so why is it that the media seems to think that one is more notable simply because he happened to be anti-choice? I'm sure the opposite would ring just as true, and it would still be unacceptable. Two lives were snuffed out and both were important to those who loved them.

  • Why are the politicians most rabid about protecting the "Sanctity of Marriage" the ones who can't seem to keep their penises in their pants? They espouse biblical teachings as their reasoning, and yet, were the government to mete out the biblical punishments for violating said teachings, they'd cry foul! Why are they so intent on foisting these laws upon others that they themselves are unable to respect via their own actions?

  • Why is Sarah Palin still relevant?

  • Why are people complaining about companies pulling sponsorship from Glenn Beck's television show? He's the very one who screamed about free markets; shouldn't he be the prime example of how free markets work? Wouldn't he be glad to be an example of the very policy he supports? I'm not bashing a free market system here, merely wondering why what's good for the goose is not good for the gander.

  • Why did so many parents not want their children to listen to the President speak about the importance of staying in school and focusing on their education? The cries of "indoctrination" were just ridiculously parroted by parents who knew nothing other than what talking heads on the radio and televisions were telling them they should be afraid of. Yes, because the worst thing we can do for our children is to encourage them to succeed in life. Of course, that begs the question if it's not a good thing to encourage our children to succeed, then why complain when others endorse mediocrity? Perhaps it's because of whom the message was coming from, and not the message itself, but even that seems a bit trite, don't you think? The argument that probably takes the cake when used to explain away the "opting out" of many schools was that the speech was using "tax payer money" to promote Obama's "socialistic ideology". If telling children to do well in school is socialistic, sign me up for my first meeting of the Obama Socialist Party because I've been doing that from day one, as have my kids' teachers, police officers, fire fighters, representatives, etc..., the latter five of which are all paid with tax dollars.

  • Why do people say that Obama hasn't fixed the country's problems yet so he's a failure yet, in the very same breath say that there's no way Bush could have prevented 9/11 from happening because he had only been in office less than a year? Can they not see just how absurd that is? A man is expected to pull this country out of a recession, faltering economy, two wars, crashing real estate market, jobless tailspin, and foreign policy nightmare in less than an eight month span, but Bush couldn't possibly have been able to appropriate additional funding for the FBI and CIA as had been requisitioned months prior? Someone please explain to me the logic in that. You know what, never mind - I know where that'll lead me, which brings me to my next confounding question:

  • Why do people use circular reasoning to try and get out of having to actually explain things using facts? Shouting "it's a lie, it's a lie" over and over again doesn't make it any more or less true. This is the apparent tactic that some people have taken when arguing that Obama is a "muslin commie terrorist" who's also a Nazi. "WHY is he all of those things?" gets asked, and the explanation received is "because he is" which would be received with either the question as to why being asked again, or this:

    I'm pretty sure you see where this is going.

  • What is so wrong with admitting that America as a country could be better? Why do those who not only claim, but also insist that America is a "Christian Nation" cannot find a little bit of humility like Jesus told us we should have? We're not perfect - no one in this world is perfect - so there can be no perfect country. We exist on a body of laws based on a document that many in the legal and political community believe to be a "living" one, so why, if it can evolve and improve, can we not admit that its improvement also means that we improve? Is it that difficult to say that we were wrong? We encourage our children to take responsibility for their actions, but when it comes to our government, we refuse to acknowledge even the most minutiae of flaws - unless, of course, it's in regard to the opposing party, then it's aaaaaaaaall G - and that only sabotages our future because this is the message we're sending to our children. Either we teach them the values through our own actions or we continue on with this "Do as I say, not as I do" attitude that's obviously done wonders for politics in general, right?

  • Why can't they make Throwback Pepsi cost the same amount as regular Pepsi?

  • Why are not utilizing solar and wind technology like Europe is to help lower our fossil fuel dependency? Hawai'i is surrounded by the Pacific, have the world's most active volcano, and yet we'll never be self-sufficient when it comes to energy because NIMBYs keep complaining. We said goodbye to the SuperFerry, costing 300 people their jobs because of NIMBYs. We're even more dependent upon the mainland for fuel because wind turbines and solar farms are "eyesores", yet walking around in orange leathery skin while wearing a pareo (or less) and shouting at people and calling them environmental terrorists is somehow "attractive"? Really? Protect the environment, huh? With that "Move over, bitch, my Hummer's taking both stalls at the nail salon so I can get my nails did, and don't look at me like that just because I threw my cigarette butt on the ground" attitude while having the audacity to have a "Malama da 'Aina" sticker on your bumper? REALLY?

  • Why do parents dress their children up like miniature versions of themselves? I'm not talking about cute little matching family outfits - I live in the land of family portraits where all three hundred children wear the same freaking Palaka fabric - but the moms whose daughters wear the short skirts, the midriff bearing tops, and the makeup, or the fathers whose sons sport diamond earrings, atrocious dye jobs, and clothing with not only suggestive words and images on them, but downright inappropriate for them to view in the theater alone, much less on their bodies. Prostitots and mini-pimps aren't cute. There is nothing redeeming about them and instilling in them a sense of vain materialism and shallow sense of self does nothing to boost their self-esteem. Instead, it makes them dependent upon it, and there will come a time when they won't have it, and what will they have to fall back on? You?

I know this was long. I know this droned on, but after all this time did you expect something short and sweet? I'm neither short, and I haven't been called sweet in a long time, so putting those two words in conjunction with a description of me is SO not happening! But, I do thank you if you've stuck around this long. If you just skipped to the bottom, I've got only one thing to say to you.


The Sanctity of Marriage

You hear it thrown around so often lately.

"The Sanctity of Marriage"

It's a phrase that's become the political platform of countless conservatives, neocons, and fundamentalists the world over. Protect marriage! Save marriage! One man and one woman!

Oh sure. It sounds like it's a noble cause, one that anyone would want to fight for. Until you get to their reasons for wanting to "save" it, and "protect" it and who exactly they think they need to "save" it from.


The Gays.

Or for you forum fanatics out there, teh [sic] gays.

See, for those who don't know because they've been living under a rock - or because you're Amish, and if you are, WTF are you doing on the computer anyway? The computer and the internets are the debbil!!! - homosexuals want the right to marry someone of the same sex because like most people, they feel that it's their right to leg shackle themselves to another human being for as long as they live. Or, if you're a Republican, for as long as it takes for you to find a new mistress and dump your hospital-bed-bound wife.

Shocking, isn't it?

Now, it's to be expected that the arguments that come against it - and I've listed a few in previous blogs - deal mainly with the religious connotations. Hey, you can't be a conservative and NOT be religious. It goes against the rulebook!

However, an article was brought to my attention today that lists some of the most asinine, ludicrous, hilarious, bass-ackwards justifications imaginable. Sam Schulman wrote a column piece titled "The Worst Thing About Gay Marriage" in which he explains what he believes to be the worst thing about gay marriage and why. It's a long, windbagesque diatribe of strawmen and red herrings that could, quite possibly, be the cure to insomnia or the cause of aortic embolisms; I'm not sure which yet as I'm still recovering from my eyes bleeding onto my keyboard.

For fun, and to save you all a lot of time, I'm going to list some of the reasons given, and in no particular order, though I'm certain it wouldn't really matter what order I place them in because they won't make any more sense - trust me, this isn't Jenga.

And here we go:

  • A wedding between same-sex lovers does not create the fact (or even the feeling) of kinship between a man and his husband's family; a woman and her wife's kin. It will be nothing like the new kinship structure that a marriage imposes willy-nilly on two families who would otherwise loathe each other.

  • Gay spouses have none of our guilt about sex-before-marriage.

  • marriage is concerned above all with female sexuality. The very existence of kinship depends on the protection of females from rape, degradation, and concubinage. This is why marriage between men and women has been necessary in virtually every society ever known.

  • This most profound aspect of marriage--protecting and controlling the sexuality of the child-bearing sex--is its only true reason for being, and it has no equivalent in same-sex marriage. Virginity until marriage, arranged marriages, the special status of the sexuality of one partner but not the other (and her protection from the other sex)--these motivating forces for marriage do not apply to same-sex lovers.

  • A same-sex marriage fails utterly to create forbidden relationships. If Tommy marries Bill, and they divorce, and Bill later marries a woman and has a daughter, no incest prohibition prevents Bill's daughter from marrying Tommy. The relationship between Bill and Tommy is a romantic fact, but it can't be fitted into the kinship system.

  • children adopted by a gay man or hygienically conceived by a lesbian mom can never be regarded as illegitimate)

  • In gay marriage there are no virgins (actual or honorary), no incest, no illicit or licit sex, no merging of families, no creation of a new lineage.

  • People in gay marriages will discover that mimicking the cozy bits of romantic heterosexual marriage does not make relationships stronger; romantic partners more loving, faithful, or sexy; domestic life more serene or exciting. They will discover that it is not the wedding vow that maintains marriages, but the force of the kinship system. Kinship imposes duties, penalties, and retribution that champagne toasts, self-designed wedding rings, and thousands of dollars worth of flowers are powerless to effect.

Well now, aren't you glad that you read that? Don't you feel that much more informed?

Oh, by the way, the author of this particular article has been married three(3) times. I suppose one could argue that it wasn't the vows that made him want to get married so often, or the flowers, or the children. No. It was the kinship. The loving, wonderful kinship of having three mother-in-laws who hate him, three father-in-laws who want his brothers-in-law to kick his ass, and countless other family members-in-law to show him what happens when you fail to practice what you preach.

Of course, I'm still working on the bumper sticker that reads: "The Sanctity of Marriage: Protect It By Marrying As Often As You Can".

Isn't that right, Mr. Shulman, Mr. Giuliani, Mr. Gingrich, Mr. McCain and so on...?

This isn't going to be a post about gay marriage.

This is going to be a post about why Miss California is a lying hypocrite who deserves to have her crown removed.

Picture of her posing semi-nude have made their rounds on the internet. I have not seen them and will not because I don't need to. She admitted to having taken them because she's "a model" and "models pose in lingerie".

Of course, she also claims that the pictures are being shown around because people want to shut her up, to keep her silent because of her faith and her beliefs.

There's just one problem.

Her faith.

Now, I'm not saying it's wrong of her to be a Christian. I love Jesus Christ and try to accept everyone as he did because there is not a single one of us who are perfect. Miss California herself admits that she isn't perfect.

However, Miss California also holds her religion up as a shield, protecting her from all of the consequences that come from using her faith as a crutch for her behavior and beliefs. This particular incident with the photographs is no exception. She wants to claim that she's a Christian and a model, and that she should be given a pass at the latter because of the former. The trouble with that is that she uses scripture as her basis for other beliefs that deny others the rights that she has, all while ignoring the scripture that demands she NOT pose in lingerie as a "model".

“I will therefore that men pray every where, lifting up holy hands , without wrath and doubting. In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair or gold, or pearls, or costly array; but (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works”

(I Timothy 2:8-10)

Scripture also prevents her from being deceitful, which she was when she signed her pageant contract, both for Miss Teen USA and for the Miss USA pageant.

There's nothing wrong with being a Christian.

There's everything wrong with claiming to be a Christian.

The former requires you lead a life that Jesus would have lived.

The latter requires nothing of you, no scruples, no honesty, no integrity, no compassion, and most obviously, no humility.

Miss California, I think you know where you fall.

I admit. I like Adam Lambert. I haven't watched a full episode of the show yet, merely the illegally uploaded clips that get quickly removed on youtube. The excitment over Adam's voice is warranted. He's got chops, and he's easy on the eyes.

Really easy.

But there's something really wrong about how he keeps getting credit for being "creative" with his song selections and arrangements. Granted, I liked his rendition of Tears for Fears' Mad World, as originally performed by Gary Jules, but that's because let's face it, most people had no clue about the song, both original and other, prior to Adam's performance, so him selecting it was nice.

But Adam. That whole alternative song arrangement thing was done last season with whatshisface Cook and Doxology's cover of Eleanor Rigby.

This week, however, showed that Adam's just not tired of that whole covering the cover thing, and it's getting on my nerves. He covered one of the greatest songs out there, "Feeling Good", and did it in the same arrangement as Muse's version. Now, if you know that arrangement, you know that version kicks major ass. Granted the other versions out there are fabulous as well - I'm a big Nina Simone fan as well so her version comes in a close second - but let's face it, when you're covering a cover, you're not exactly stepping out of the box. You're just changing from cellophane to shrink wrap packaging.

American Idol is supposed to be about singing, and I guess if what you're trying to sell is another cookie-cutter pop star, then winning is the way to go. The only two successful winners of the show who've gone on to earn musical accolades entered into the two most conformity driven genres out there - pop and country - while all of the others have pretty much crashed and burned. Runner ups and third, fourth, and fifth place contestants have fared much better, which goes to show that America, the voting public, isn't really interested in originality and merit. We just want to see if you'll fit into the mold we've set out for you.

I hope Adam doesn't win. Not because I don't want him to be successful, because I do. No, it's because perhaps if he lost, he'll develop his own style and the next time he covers something, it'll be more than just a replica of a copy.


Quote of the Day

"If it's RPattz and the world finds out, we will soon all be covered in the remnants of a million exploding vaginas." ~ By Michael K of regarding the possibility that Robert Pattinson might be gay.


An article came out recently in my local paper regarding FotF (Focus on the Famnily) donating $20k to help prevent civil unions from being passed in Hawai'i. Now, while this isn't surprising to me, especially considering the source, what is surprising is the fact that FotF is worried about civil unions in Hawai'i - a state they are not based in.

Equal marriages/civil unions/gay marriages; whatever you want to call them, the Federal government has deemed it the individual state's responsibility to dictate whether or not it should be legal. Several states have legalized it, most recently Iowa, and the trend will continue because, contrary to the accusations thrown out by those opposed to same-sex unions, it does not destroy the entity or the validity of one's marriage anymore than the divorce of two heterosexuals does.

I have been married for ten years. The idea of one of my gay friends getting married doesn't threaten my marriage in any way. If it does anything, it strengthens it. My marriage isn't so weak and fragile that it can be destroyed by something as trivial as someone else getting married.

However, all of that aside, the most interesting and intriguing bit of information regarding all of this is the fact that FotF is based in Colorado, which has the twelfth highest divorce rate in the nation. The highest was Nevada - which is understandable considering how many people get married in that state - but following it was a slew of southern states (almost all of them), and then Colorado. It's well noted that the majority of southern states consider themselves to be God fearing, Christian based. Why, then, do they have such high divorce rates?

And, more importantly, why is it that Colorado isn't spending that $20k on helping to improve marriage (regardless of orientation) in THEIR state when they so obviously need it? Even more interesting, the first state to allow homosexual marriage, Massachusetts, has the LOWEST divorce rate in the nation.

$20k could have paid for a week's worth of food for 1000 families, provided clothing and shelter for hundreds - you know, what Jesus advocated.

Instead, FotF spent $20k on trying to influence laws of man (tsk tsk tsk) in a state that has a lower divorce rate than their own just so more people cannot get married.

Losing. You're doing it right.


Happy Birthday Edgar

Today marks Edgar Allen Poe's 200th birthday. He was a very dark poet and story teller who wrote far more poems than he's noted for, and his best work bears no recognition in any venue other than in the minds and hearts of those that love him.

This is one of my favorite poems. It's long. Very long, actually, and quite involved, but it holds a place very close to my heart.

Al Aaraaf
by: Edgar Allen Poe

Part I

Oh! nothing earthly save the ray
(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye,
As in those gardens where the day
Springs from the gems of Circassy--
Oh! nothing earthly save the thrill
Of melody in woodland rill
Or (music of the passion-hearted)
Joy's voice so peacefully departed
That, like the murmur in the shell,
Its echo dwelleth and will dwell--
Oh! nothing of the dross of ours,
Yet all the beauty, all the flowers,
That list our Love, and deck our bowers--
Adorn yon world afar, afar--
The wandering star.

'Twas a sweet time for Nesace--for there
Her world lay lolling on the golden air,
Near four bright suns--a temporary rest--
An oasis in desert of the blest.
Away--away--'mid seas or rays that roll
Empyrean slendor o'er th' unchained soul--
The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense)
Can struggle to its destin'd eminence--
To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode.
And late to ours, the favor'd one of God--
But, now, the ruler of an anchor'd realm,
She throws aside the sceptre--leaves the helm,
And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns,
Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.

Now happiest, loveliest in yon lovely Earth,
Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth
(Falling in wreaths thro' many a startled star,
Like woman's hair 'mid pearls, until, afar,
It lit the hills Achaian, and there dwelt)?
She look'd into Infinity--and knelt.
Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled--
Fit emblems of the model of her world--
Seen but in beauty--not impeding sight
Of other beauty glittering thro' the light--
A wreath that twined each starry form around,
And all the opal'd air in color bound.

All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed
Of flowers: of lilies such as rear'd the head
On the fair Capo Deucato, and sprang
So eagerly around about to hang
Upon the flying footsteps of---deep pride--
Of her who lov'd a mortal--and so died.
The Sephalica, budding with young bees,
Uprear'd its purple stem around her knees.
And gemmy flower, of Trebizond misnam'd--
Inmate of highest stars, where erst it sham'd
All other loveliness: its honied dew
(The fabled nectar that the heathen knew),
Deliriously sweet, was dropp'd from Heaven,
And fell on gardens of the unforgiven
In Trebizond--and on a sunny flower
So like its own above that, to this hour,
It still remaineth, torturing the bee
With madness, and unwonted reverie:
In Heaven, and all its environs, the leaf
And blossom of the fairy plant, in grief
Disconsolate linger--grief that hangs her head,
Repenting follies that full long have fled,
Heaving her white breast to the balmy air,
Like guilty beauty, chasten'd, and more fair:
Nyctanthes too, as sacred as the light
She fears to perfume, perfuming the night:
And Clytia pondering between many a sun,
While pettish tears adown her petals run:
And that aspiring flower that sprang to Earth--
And died, ere scarce exalted into birth,
Bursting its odorous heart in spirit to wing
Its way to Heaven, from garden of a king:
And Valisnerian lotus hither flown
From struggling with the waters of the Rhone:
And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zanthe!
Isola d'oro!--Fior di Levante!
And the Nelumbo bud that floats forever
With Indian Cupid down the holy river--
Fair flowers, and fairy! to whose care is given
To bear the Goddess' song, in odors, up to Heaven:

"Spirit! that dwellest where,
In the deep sky,
The terrible and fair
In beauty vie!
Beyond the line of blue--
The boundary of the star
Which turneth at the view
Of thy barrier overgone
By the comets who were cast
From their pride and from their throne
To be drudges till the last--
To be carriers of fire
(The red fire of their heart)
With speed that may not tire
And with pain that shall not part--
Who livest--that we know--
In Eternity--we feel--
But the shadow of whose brow
What spirit shall reveal?
Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace,
Thy messenger hath known
Have dream'd for they Infinity
A model of their own--
Thy will is done, oh, God!
The star hath ridden high
Thro' many a tempest, but she rode
Beneath thy burning eye;
And here, in thought, to thee--
In thought that can alone
Ascend thy empire, and so be
A partner of thy throne--
By winged Fantasy,
My embassy is given
Till secrecy shall knowledge be
In the environs of Heaven."

She ceas'd--and buried then her burning cheek
Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek
A shelter from the fervor of His eye;
For the stars termbled at the Deity.
She stirr'd not--breath'd not--for a voice was there
How solemnly pervading the calm air!
A sound of silence on the startled ear
Which dreamy poets name "the music of the sphere."
Ours is a world of words: Quiet we call
"Silence"--which is the merest word of all.
All Nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things
Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings--
But ah! not so when, thus, in realms on high
The eternal voice of God is passing by,
And the red winds are withering in the sky!
"What tho' in worlds which sightless cycles run,
Link'd to a little system, and one sun--
Where all my love is folly and the crowd
Still think my terrors but the thunder cloud,
The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath--
(Ah! will they cross me in my angrier path?)
What tho' worlds which own a single sun
The sands of Time grow dimmer as they run,
Yet thine is my resplendency, so given
To bear my secrets thro' the upper Heaven.
Leave tenantless they crystal home, and fly,
With all thy train, athwart the moony sky--
Apart--like fire-flies in Sicilian night,
And wing to other worlds another light!
Divulge the secrets of thy embassy
To the proud orbs that twinkle--and so be
To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban
Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!"

Up rose the maiden in the yellow night,
The single-mooned eve!--on Earth we plight
Our faith to one love--and one moon adore--
The birth-place of young Beauty had no more.
As sprang that yellow star from downy hours
Up rose the maiden from her shrine of flowers,
And bent o'er sheeny mountain and dim plain
Her way--but left not yet her Therasaean reign.

Part II

High on a mountain of enamell'd head--
Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed
Of giant pasturage lying at his ease,
Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees
What time the moon is quadrated in Heaven--
Of rosy head, that towering far away
Into the sunlit ether, caught the ray
Of sunken suns at eve--at noon of night,
While the moon danc'd with the fair stranger light--
Uprear'd upon such height arose a pile
Of gorgeous columns on th' unburthen'd air,
Flashing from Parian marble that twin smile
Far down upon the wave that sparkled there,
And nursled the young mountain in its lair.
Of molten stars their pavement, such as fall
Thro' the ebon air, besilvering the pall
Of their own dissolution, while they die--
Adorning then the dwellings of the sky.
A dome, by linked light from Heaven let down,
Sat gently on these columns as a crown--
A window of one circular diamond, there,
Look'd out above into the purple air,
And rays from God shot down that meteor chain
And hallow'd all the beauty twice again,
Save when, between th' Empyrean and that ring,
Some eager spirit flapp'd his dusky wing.
But on the pillars of Seraph eyes have seen
The dimness of the world; that greyish green
That Nature loves the best for Beauty's grave
Lurk'd in each cornice, round each architrave--
And every sculptur'd cherub thereabout,
That from his marble dwelling peeréd out,
Seem'd earthly in the shadow of his niche--
Achaian statues in a world so rich!
Friezes from Tadmor and Persepolis
From Balbec, and the stilly, clear abyss
Of beautiful Gomorrah! Oh! the wave
Is now upon thee--but too late to save!

Sound loves to revel in a summer night:
Witness the murmur of the grey twilight
That stole upon the ear, in Eyraco,
Of many a wild star-gazer long ago--
Who, musing, gazeth on the distance dim,
And sees the darkness coming as a cloud--
Is not its form--its voice--most palpable and loud?
But what is this?--it cometh--and it brings
A music with it--'tis the rush of wings--
A pause--and then a sweeping, falling strain,
And Nesace is in her halls again.
From the wild energy of wanton haste
Her cheeks were flushing, and her lips apart;
And zone that clung around her gentle waist
Had burst beneath the heaving of her heart.
Within the centre of that hall to breathe
The fairy light that kiss'd her golden hair
And long'd to rest, yet could but sparkle there!
(20) Young flowers were whispering in melody
To happy flowers that night--and tree to tree;
Fountains were gushing music as they fell
In many a star-lit grove, or moon-lit dell;
Yet silence came upon material things--
Fair flowers, bright waterfalls and angel wings--
And sound alone that from the spirit sprang
Bore burthen to the charm the maiden sang:

" 'Neath blue-bell or streamer--
Or tufted wild spray
That keeps, from the dreamer,
The moonbeam away--
Bright beings! that ponder,
With half-closing eyes,
On the stars, which your wonder
Hath drawn from the skies,
Till they glance thro' the shade, and
Come down to your brow
Like---eyes of the maiden
Who calls on you now--
Arise! from your dreaming
In violet bowers,
To duty beseeming
These star-litten hours--
And shake from your tresses
Encumber'd with dew
The breath of those kisses
That cumber them too--
(Oh, how, without you, Love!
Could angels be blest?)
Those kisses of true love
That lull'd ye to rest!
Up!--shake from your wing
Each hindering thing:
The dew of the night--
It would weigh down you flight
And true love caresses--
Oh! leave them apart!
They are light on the tresses,
But lead on the heart.

"Ligeia! Ligeia!
My beautiful one!
Whose harshest idea,
Will to melody run,
Oh! is it thy will
On the breezes to toss?
Or, capriciously still,
Like the lone Albatross,
Incumbent on night
(As she on the air)
To keep watch with delight
On the harmony there?

"Ligeia! wherever
Thy image may be,
No magic shall never
Thy music from thee.
Thou hast bound many eyes
In a dreamy sleep--
But the strains still arise
Which thy vigilance keep--
The sound of the rain
Which leaps down to the flower,
And dances again
In the rhythm of the shower--
The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass
Are the music of things--
But are modell'd, alas!--
Away, then, my dearest,
Oh! hie thee away
To springs that lie clearest
Beneath the moon-ray--
To lone lake that smiles,
In its dream of deep rest,
At the many star-isles
That enjewel its breast--
Where wild flowers, creeping,
Have mingled their shade,
On its margin is sleeping
Full many a maid--
Some have left the cool glade, and
Have slept with the bee--
Arouse them, my maiden,
On moorland and lea--
Go! breathe on their slumber,
All softly in ear,
The musical number
They slumber'd to hear--
For what can awaken
An angel so soon
Whose sleep hath been taken
Beneath the cold moon,
As the spell which no slumber,
Of witchery may test,
The rhythmical number
Which lull'd him to rest?"

Spirits in wing, and angels to the view,
A thousand seraphs burst th' Empyrean thro',
Young dreams still hovering on their drowsy flight--
Seraphs in all but "Knowledge," the keen light
That fell, refracted, thro' thy bounds, afar,
O Death! from eye of God upon that star:
Sweet was that error--sweeter still that death--
Sweet as that error--ev'n with us the breath
Of Science dims the mirror of our joy--
To them 'twere the Simoom, and would destroy--
From what (to them) availeth it to know
That Truth is Falsehood--or that Bliss is Woe?
Sweet was their death--with them to die was rife
With the last ecstasy of satiate life--
Beyond that death no immortality--
But sleep that pondereth is not "to be"--
And there--oh! may my weary spirit dwell--
Apart from Heaven's Eternity--and yet how far from Hell!
What guilty spirit, in what shrubbery dim,
Heard not the stirring summons of that hymn?
But two: they fell: for Heaven no grace imparts
To those who hear not for their beating hearts.
A maiden-angel and her seraph-lover--
Oh! where (and ye may seek the wide skies over)
Was Love, the blind, near sober Duty known?
Unguided Love hath fallen--'mid "tears of perfect moan."
He was a goodly spirit--he who fell:
A wanderer by mossy-mantled well--
A gazer of the lights that shine above--
A dreamer in the moonbeam of his love:
What wonder? for each star is eye-like there,

And looks so sweetly down on Beauty's hair--
And they, and ev'ry mossy spring were holy
To his love-haunted heart and melancholy.
The night had found (to him a night of woe)
Upon a mountain crag, young Angelo--
Beetling it bends athwart the solemn sky,
And scowls on starry world that down beneath it lie.
Here sat he with his love--his dark eye bent
With eagle gaze along the firmament:
Now turn'd it upon her--but ever then
It trembled to the orb of Earth again.
"Ianthe, dearest, see! how dim that ray!
How lovely 'tis to look so far away!
She seem'd not thus upon that autumn eve
I left her gorgeous halls--nor mourn'd to leave.
That eve--that eve--I should remember well--
The sun ray dropp'd, in Lemnos, with a spell
On th' Arabesque carving of a gilded hall
Wherein I sat, and on the draperied wall--
And on my eyelids--O the heavy light!
How drowsily it weigh'd them into night!
On flowers, before, and mist, and love they ran
With Persian Saadi in his Gulistan:
But O that light!--I slumber'd--Death, the while,
Stole o'er my senses in that lovely isle
So softly that no single silken hair
Awoke that slept--of knew that he was there.

"The last spot of Earth's orb I trod upon
Was a proud temple call'd the Parthenon--
More beauty clung around her column'd wall
Than ev'n thy glowing bosom beasts withal;
And when old Time my wing did disenthral
Thence sprang I--as the eagle from his tower,
And years I left behind me in an hour.
What time upon her airy bounds I hung
One half the garden of her globe was flung,
Unrolling as a chart unto my view--
Tenantless cities of the desert too!
Ianthe, beauty crowded on me then,
And half I wish'd to be again of men."

"My Angelo! and why of them to be?
A brighter dwelling-place is here for thee--
And greener fields than in yon world above,
And woman's loveliness--and passionate love."

"But, list, Ianthe! when the air so soft
Fail'd, as my pennon'd spirit leapt aloft,
Perhaps my brain grew dizzy--but the world
I left so late was into chaos hurl'd--
Sprang from her station, on the winds apart,
And roll'd, a flame, the fiery Heaven athwart.
Methought, my sweet one, then I ceased to soar
And fell--not swiftly as I rose before,
But with a downward, tremulous motion thro'
Light, brazen rays, this golden star unto!
Nor long the measure of my falling hours,
For nearest of all stars was thine to ours--
Dread star! that came, amid a night of mirth,
A red Daedalion on the timid Earth.

"We came--and to thy Earth--but not to us
Be given our lady's bidding to discuss:
We came, my love; around, above, below,
Gay fire-fly of the night we come and go,
Nor ask a reason save the angel-nod
She grants to us, as granted by her God--
But, Angelo, than thine gray Time unfurl'd
Never his fairy wing o'er fairer world!
Dim was its little disk, and angel eyes
Alone could see the phantom in the skies,
When first Al Aaraaf knew her course to be
Headolong thitherward o'er the starry sea--
But when its glory swell'd upon the sky,
As glowing Beauty's bust beneath man's eye,
We paus'd before the heritage of men,
And thy star trembled--as doth Beauty then!"

Thus, in discourse, the lovers whiled away
The night that waned and waned and brought no day.
They fell: for Heaven to them no hope imparts
Who fear not for the beating of their hearts.


Ulterior Motives

Why do people think that you always have an ulterior motive when you want someone to do well, or do things for other people? Can't a person genuinely want things to go well for someone? Can't a person genuinely want to help someone succeed for nothing else other than see that person happy?

Sorry to disappoint certain someones but I have nothing to gain from the success of others except knowing that they've accomplished something they've wanted for a while. I'm not looking for accolades or prize ribbons. This isn't a beauty pageant and I'm not looking for the fucking tiara at the end of the runway.


Never a moment.

When they give you a baby in the hospital after gestating for nine months and however many weeks, days, minutes, hours and seconds, they never tell you that any semblance of privacy and personal space you may have possessed are now nonexistent. They send you home with diapers, formula, and enough vaseline to keep a porn company in production for weeks, but never any advice on how to deal with never being able to pee alone, bathe alone, eat alone, or BE alone.

When you sign onto this whole baby business, forget what a hot meal tastes like. Forget what it feels like to have clean hair. Oh sure, you can wash it. Wash it twice a day, even. But forget it being clean. In less time than it takes oxygen to enter your blood cells, your child is going to have schmutz in your hair that'll make you wonder what exactly it is that you've been feeding it.

Bathroom moments will turn into sprint training. Want to go alone? Well...How fast can you pee? Wipe? Forget flushing - that'll alert the kid to your absence and then you'll have to deal with the guilt you'll feel when they flash that "you left me...ALONE" look at you through red-rimmed, tear laden eyes. Forget even going number two; you don't have time for that. No. Seriously. You don't.

But in the end it's all worth it when they look up at you with such sweet smiles and say their first word, that precious word that you never knew you waited a lifetime to hear, but when you do, you feel your heart stop.



Sisters Who Cause Trouble

I was tagged by Meg at Overdosing on Nostalgia for this blog challenge. Here are the rules:

1.Go to your documents

2. Go to your 6th file.

3.Go to your 6th picture.

4. Blog about it.

5. Tag 6 friends to do the same.

Since all of my documents are located on an external hard drive, I couldn't exactly follow these instructions exactly, but the sixth image happens to be one that's uploaded into my myspace photo album. It's an image taken nearly three years ago of my two daughters on a time out. I thought it was such a cute scene, I grabbed the nearest camera (on my phone) and snapped a quick shot. I later messed around with it and added captions.

They had been fighting over a Strawberry Shortcake DVD - I remember this vividly because the DVD ended up flying into my sink and chipped my family mug - and had refused to stop after being warned, so off to the wall they went. They stood there, sniffling and whining, while I stood watch. Afterward, they apologized like little ladies and hugged each other. Fifteen minutes later they were at each others throats again, but I didn't expect it to last ten so it was a bonus for me.

Now's your turn, ladies!

1. Col @ JamericanSpice
2. Stinka @ Hippie Liberal Mom Chronicle
3. Kerri @ Desperately Seeking Sanity
4. Susie @ Knitting Knoobie
5. Kyla @ The Hellions Mom
6. Chelle @ Her MySpace Blog


It's a bit like life.

Sometimes, you get a boost of drama from the sources you don't expect, and the solutions seem far away and fairly unreachable. I suppose that's normal; everyone has these moments at least once or twice in a year. I guess the fundamental lessons that we're supposed to learn from them is to one, never give up, and two, if you do give up, don't expect anyone to be sincere when they say that they understand because even if they'd have done it themselves, they truly don't understand.

You're going to have to deal with the ups and downs of life. That's a given. The real problem is how exactly you deal with it. Are you going to go into denial and let the world fall around around you, let yourself steep in your misery? Will you face your demons head on and charge forth like a rabid, colorblind bull in the middle of Forks, Washington?

I suppose when it all comes down to it, we end up falling somewhere in the middle.