We laid in the hammock, The Thinker and I, underneath the ceiling of a welcoming home to friends and those we didn’t really know. Just minutes before we walked down the street around 1AM, planning to call it a night, when we heard yells from a porch across the street. “Hey you guys! Come hang out with us!” We had no clue who it could be, but for some reason couldn’t resist. A huge hug from a cuddly friend, and an embrace from a new one. More followed as we entered the house. Hula-hooping, hammock swinging, singing and dancing and kissing and laughing. New people to get to know and a few friends who probably knew my middle name. Such a random, yet meant-to-be encounter. After we talked a bit, then danced and sang a bit, we laid a bit in that hammock. As we swung slightly from side to side, your arm under my neck, we talked about absurd things I can’t even remember now–and probably some serious things. All I knew, and know, is that it felt so right at that moment. The swinging and laughing in the background, and the fact that it didn’t phase anyone if we hula-hooped, danced, chugged 50 beers, or just laid together apart from everyone else enjoying only each others words. All of it was surreal, with a hint of truth. The mixture of it all, and your eyes, kept me consumed.
Me: I like hearing things and locking them in, strangers.theres so much back story to what people say.
The Thinker: What do you like and dislike about it?
Me: it depends on the mood i guess
Me: some days i feel apathetic and dont care about the backstory. Or some days i want to know every detail and will spend the rest of the day wondering about it
The Thinker: I get that.
Me: as long as you take from your mistakes and others and dont hurt anyone on purpose in the process. Nope. You’re a thinker. Not a studier and regurgitater. Maybe you just feel youre not balanced
On the phone with Ms. Irish Fire.
Me: Hey you awake? I’m coming over to get the keys.
Ms. Irish Fire: Ok I’m up!
Get to the house and go up to her room.
Me: Here’s some yogurt…(setting it down on her desk, then realizing a used condom is right next to my hand. She doesn’t notice it’s there.)
Me: Goddamit, Ms. Irish Fire. There’s a used condom. Well, there’s some yogurt. See you in a bit! (leave non-challantly)
Ms. Irish Fire: (as I walk away) Oh Goddamit! I thought I cleaned everything up!
Me: “Closed for season” my ass.
conversation with Ms. Irish Fire during a 3 hour car ride from point a to point b.
1 hour into the drive:
Me: I don’t know what he wants. I mean I do, like all men they just want to get in your pants. But he may want more.
Ms. Irish Fire: Well do you want more?
Me: No. I can’t do that right now. He’s great but I’m not ready for that. And I don’t want to just sleep with him. I can’t do that.
Ms. Irish Fire: Yeah, well. Just go with your gut feeling.
Me: Yeah I will..
1.5 hours into the drive:
Me: I don’t know, maybe something will happen. I guess I have to talk to him and see what’s up.
Ms. Irish Fire: Yeah, ask him what he wants first. It’ll give you an idea of where he is emotionally. You are going to say the same thing no matter what anyway. You aren’t ready for a relationship.
Me: I just don’t want to hurt him, but we’re already in too deep and people will be hurt. But I don’t know, maybe something will happen.
Friend: I thought you said it wouldn’t.
Me: I don’t know!
2 hours into the drive:
Ms. Irish Fire: I’m just in some kind of mood!
Me: Oh my god! Me too! I just want to make out with someone. I mean you’ll be doing that tonight won’t you? Oh dang girl! He be all up in your goody snacks!
Ms. Irish Fire: Naw I won’t be giving him my goody snacks, just making out.
Me: Yeah right…”Closed For Season” my ass. I found a condom on your desk this morning and you said you weren’t having sex!
Ms. Irish Fire: I know! That was hilarious! Goddamn!
Me: Yup! Wasn’t even surprised and I didn’t even skip a beat.
Ms. Irish Fire: I know! We’re at that point in our friendship where it doesn’t even matter anymore! You were so casual! Well I’ll be seeing The Neighbor tonight, and I swear we’ll just be making out! He asked to have sex, and I was like “Nope! You ain’t getting up on my Howdy Doody.”
Me: Howdy doody?! What the fuck? Goddamnit, the shit you come up with.
Me: Damnet, now I’m feeling some kind of way. Goddamit.
Ms. Irish Fire: Yup, now you’ll have him all up on your howdy doody…
Me: Stop calling it that!
Ms. Irish Fire: ALLLL UP in your HOWDY DOODY!
Me: Goddamit. Making out with someone could be nice.
Ms. Irish Fire: Yup, all up in your howdy doody.
Me: Nope, not having sex with him. Maybe just making out, I mean it’s not more than we’ve already done.
2.5 hours into the drive:
Me: Goddamit! Now I’m all feeling some kind of way!
Ms. Irish Fire: Right?! Now we’re both in a mood. Howdy Doody and shit.
Me: Fuck it, why not?
Ms. Irish Fire: I thought you weren’t gonna have sex with him.
Me: Yeah but he’s hot and makes me feel some kind of way. And you have no room to talk!
Ms. Irish Fire: Um no! I told him to back off my howdy doody. Back off my howdy doody! Back off!
Me: Stop calling it that!
2.45 hours into the drive:
Me: Fuck it. I’m having sex with him.
Ms. Irish Fire: Yeah I thought so. Godammit. Howdy doody!!!
5 minutes later:
Ms. Irish Fire: (pointing at a billboard of weird looking sausages, and sounding unsure) That billboard makes me feel some kind of way.
Me: They look like dicks!
Me: Damnet, how old are we?
Ms. Irish Fire: Howdy doody! Howdy doody!
Pulling into the driveway:
Ms. Irish Fire: Notice what happened in a 3 hour span of time. You went from saying no completely, to making out and having some fun, to having sex.
Me: Fuck, you’re so right. Welp, at least I’ll enjoy it.
Get home to find our water is shut off because the water company fucked up our account.
Ms. Irish Fire: Well I need to shower, I’ll probably just go to The Neighbor’s house.
Me: So he’s gonna be all over your howdy doody?
Ms. Irish Fire: No! just making out!
Me: You’ll be naked and in the shower, you really don’t think he’ll be all up on your goody snacks?
Ms. Irish Fire: No I won’t let him!
Me: Yeah, uh huh. Well let me know how that pressure is in that shower….
Me: Yeah, you know the water pressure. Not his. But that’s what you were thinking so that means you’re totally having sex.
Ms. Irish Fire: No I’m not! Why don’t you believe me?!
And now we wait and see.
When you don’t have anybody to take care of you, then you could go both ways: You could do whatever you want, or you could take charge and be your own parent.
I read once in a roommates most deepest writings that hurricane sandy killed the non believers and saved those that believed.
But what about the children? Innocent, unknowingly mistake-making children whom deserve only the best. How about the children in the Middle East, dyeing horrible deaths from drones sent with a button from the other side of this Mother Earth? She cries, I swear by it. What about the children overworking their developing bodies, working days in and days out to make needless material objects for Walmart bought by this very same roommate, objects used maybe once and left to waste? What about those affected by globalization, a loss of culture, and a never ending identity crisis for the mistakes of Europeans made hundreds of years ago? What about the children forced into slavery of all kinds? And those forced to have children after being raped. Or those that live next door to you, starving while you eat three meals a day, with a small snack of 200 calories or less in between each meal. Or those that wish they could read? How about the children fighting cancer or aids, or those living with sick parents that expect care from them? Children lost and confused with no where to go.
I read her comment about hurricane sandy in her personal journal that she left out on the dining room table. Pages open and full of a false knowledge, the overall ignorance constantly protruding out of this close-minded, Midwestern world. Pages heavy with the scent of frustrated innocent children, asking this supposed god, why?
This morning, 52 dead in Oklahoma, some of them children. A state drenched with self-righteous Christianity. So I ask you, now what?
I find it quiet hilarious
that one of the things you didn’t like about me
you ended up doing
not as easy as it looks, is it?
Okay, maybe not hilarious,
but ironic that the heatheness in me
only spread to you
all while you were trying to save me
from my love of affection and hate of its opposing factors
I enjoy the seconds and years of my life I have spent
exploring beautiful beings Mother Nature created
Save me mother from the nature of the beast
Save me from yourself and the fake attitude you call believing
while believing is not knowing fact
is not always victorious when written by men many years ago
So listen here
Listen and hear the voice of a victorious woman
Living a life of love and affection
Saving the life of the little girl she used to be
A woman proud to have failed and lost
Failed at her highest and lowest
Only to rise and greet mother nature once more
Save me mother, save me
But don’t save me for the wrong reasons.
One thing about the Midwest, it’s usual dreaded flat land leaves room to see the sky. I love that I can see the front of a storm, and showers concentrated in only some areas. Walls of grey and dark blue and hints of a peach sun behind them. Peach was my nickname once.
In the past few days, the new Merida designed for the Disney Consumer Products Division has lead to heated controversy.
On the one hand, critics argue that the redesign undercuts Merida’s strength, serving her up in a more stereotypical princess form. Meanwhile, their detractors argue that “it’s not that bad,” that they “can’t see the difference,” that the critics are “overreacting,” or that the redesign “HAD to happen this way.”
In this post, I’d like to address that last point: the argument that the redesign HAD to happen this way. The core argument is that Merida must look different in the Disney Princess line because she’s drawn in 2D, rather than as a CGI image–so her image must change in translation, by necessity.
Let’s see what the animation and cartoon experts have to say on that point.
First, let’s begin with cartoonist Matthew Bogart’s take on that argument. He writes:
View original post 746 more words
Stranger: hey there ladies, what you doin over there? You tubing?
Friend: no writing papers
Stranger: oh yeah, cool. Papers on what?
Stranger: oh that’s cool. I like that kind of stuff. Knowing about popes and Egyptians.
Me: those are two very different things.
Stranger: yeah, I like that stuff. So I’m just trying to make conversation while I wait for my friend who may or may not be coming. That’s a big house you have there. You have a lot of roommates?
Stranger: how about bills? How do you split them?
Stranger: psft, well yeah. How much does this run you? A G a month?
Me: yeah something like that
Stranger: (looking at the house like he was counting rooms. And seeing through walls) that must mean you have lots of roommates.
Me: a ton
Stranger: I mean I don’t want to get into or anything but I don’t do that technology stuff. Like pretty ladies like you should be looking at each other and smilin at each other. I don’t do that Facebook shit or whatever. You ladies haven’t talked to each other once since I’ve seen you guys.
Me: oh trust me we did plenty of that.
Stranger: oh I bet you did, I just haven’t seen it.
Me: because we don’t need to talk out loud.
Stranger: oh! You do that girl shit where you talk with your eyes! Ooooh I see
Me: (pointing at his BMW convertible) what about your car and that technology?
Stranger: well I’m selling it! You wanna help me post that shit on Craigslist? Ill give you half of it.
Me: yeah right
Stranger: “yeah right” she says! She’s given an opportunity and she doesn’t take it! By the way, you’re beautiful! Like, I’m just gonna speak my mind, you’re beautiful. (Yelling to his friend) hey homie! You ready? I was talking to your neighbors over here but they don’t seem like they want to talk. They’re all into their technology and shit. Alright.
Friend and I: (laughing and not hiding it anymore)
My grandmother moved to the United States from Mexico when she was in her 20’s, looking for work to feed my mother. She gave up everything she knew to start a new life. However, immigration told her she could only choose one, a life in Mexico, or one in the Unites States. Under her agreement, she was not allowed to declare residency in the United States, and even if she did, she was not allowed to travel across the border. She did both. My grandmother couldn’t go two years without seeing her daughter.
My mother crossed the border with a student visa when she was 9. She excelled in school, way more than any other kid. The education system here has never been the best. She grew up in an era of racism, gang wars, and through the second wave of feminism. She bought mens 501s and sat in bathtubs of blue waters to fit them to her female curves. She sewed her own prom dresses and wore her hair long and wavy like a true Californian. And through it all, she never got along with her step-dad, who treated her like a servant–demanding the world and more from her. And although I wish she had it easier, as no one should wish hardship on others, it made her the strongest woman I know. Her nurturing raised me, my sister, my friends, and children we have never seen again since their grade school years. She taught us all how to hold pencils and ride bikes, how to be polite and how to stand up for our own beliefs. She’s a powerhouse of a being who isn’t afraid to admit her faults and never feels the unknown. And I love her so.
Recently, my mother told me a story about her crossing the border. My grandmother had illegally crossed back to Mexico after illegally declaring residency so she could visit my mother, numerous times. On my grandmothers cross back to the United States, with my mom’s small hand in hers, the immigration guard checking their papers said to them, “I knew it. I knew there was a reason you kept crossing back over. I’ve checked your papers each time and something told me not to turn you in. She’s your reason.”
There are good people in this world. Sometimes they don’t know it, and most of the time the rest of the world doesn’t see it. If it weren’t for that guard keeping it silent, I may not be here today, my mother probably wouldn’t either and my grandmother could have been in huge trouble. But here we are.
And the strength of the women in my family. They are all so beautifully strong. I can only hope I have a sliver of that strength in myself.
Happy United States Mother’s Day!