Cat Box

Sometimes you're just tired of thinking. Maru videos on the internet to the rescue.




In other news, I'm re-upholstering my second love seat today. Once that project is done, new apartment pics can go up. Per the sensational news, this will give a crazy stalker the chance to memorize the layout of my home and then come and kill me.

Get ready for the good stuff, crazy stalker. Home tour is on the agenda soon!

But for now... more Maru.




No, wait! For now I need to upholster that couch. Off to be responsible.

Creepsauce Casserole, or, Kidnapping is For Your Own Good, Sinner

So, apparently this guy** thought it would be a cool idea to make a pro-life movie that alludes to the "Saw" movies. I know, stay with me. Basically three women are kidnapped from an abortion clinic and held hostage until they give birth. Wanna see the trailer? Ok!



I wonder how it ends? Maybe they go for a gritty, realistic ending. Like, totally real life stuff. One where as soon as the baby is born the mother is ditched by our society, and is then vilified as a worthless leech on our tax system by getting on Medicaid and taking welfare to support her child? Or do these kidnappers pay for diapers and food and medical bills and a safe place to live for the children they saved? Ah, so many questions with this one.

As my friend said, I guess "kidnapping women and forcing them to give birth against their wills is a "pro-life" value worth making a movie about!". Indeed. Very strange way of going about advocating one's position. It's so over the top that it would never sway anyone. This seems to be one of those "preaching to the choir" kind of "YEAH! That's RIGHT! We're RIGHT!" kind of movies to fire up an already devoted base. For the record, such movies annoy me whatever the political slant may be.

Also, for the record, this isn't meant to open up a huge can o' worms over the thorny issue of abortion. I would hope anyone, on either side, would think that this movie is a stinker.

**Of course, per the article I linked above, this guy also made a movie "called O.B.A.M. Nude, in which a college student addicted to cocaine sells his soul to the devil to become a socialist leader. "Satan tutors him on political points," Del Vecchio said. "So he can trick the masses by a mantra of hope and change." Wink."

28 on 3/9

First birthday, 1984. Oh yeah, cake is goooood.

A birthday post naturally includes mom too :) Love you and thanks for the birthday!

Today is my 28th birthday. So far, it's been great- I woke up to birthday wishes from Bobby, ran W1D2 of C25K, and have been showered with lots of birthday love via FB, texts, and phone calls. All in all I'm very happy to be turning 28. I was thinking about how much fun I've had in my 20's, and I believe that is part of why I'm not freaking out about turning 28 (turning 27 last year was a lot more strange for me because it felt so much further away from 25 than 26, don't ask my why). I can't say there is anything I've wanted to do that I haven't done so far. If I had put my dreams on hold, or not gone on the adventures I wanted to go on (living in Japan and traveling), or not paid off my debt and completed my master's degree (two big goals I set for myself upon returning home from Japan) I might feel differently. I'm also happy and content to be settled down with Bobby, because I had plenty of time being single, dating around, and generally enjoying a second round of college life as a grad student. I feel like I've been an active participant in my life thus far, making the choices I wanted to, and I'm happy with those choices- the good and the bad. I'm also so very grateful to be able to make such choices, because I know so many people in this world (especially women) don't have the same opportunities.

At this point I'm excited to see where late 20's/early 30's takes me. I've thoroughly enjoyed my past, and I'm grateful for the experiences, but I'm not pining for it. And I'm not worried about the future, or stepping into the 30's soon. I guess what I've learned is that getting older is a lot less scary if you're truly living your life the way you want to. I will fully admit that 28 is a far cry from getting older as we traditionally define it, but right now it's the oldest I've ever been, so I'm just working off of what I know so far :) Lastly, this might be a weird thing to include on a birthday post, but I really love this lecture. I particularly love the part about enabling the dreams of others...

Re-Defining Rape

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Rape Victim Abortion Funding
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog</a> The Daily Show on Facebook

I find satire to be one of the best ways to point out absurdities.

Copious amounts of text on the internet and in print have been used to criticize H.R. 3., The "No Taxpayer Funding For Abortion Act", so I won't rehash all of that here. All I've been saying, this entire time, is that the very fact that any elected official in this country would say out loud or write on paper the absurd "distinction" between "forcible rape" and "non-forcible rape" makes me so incensed I can hardly see straight. After a huge outpouring of criticism, they are changing the language, but the fact that they even went there in the first place is unbelievable and makes me seriously concerned as to the lack of understanding they have related to sexual assault. *Trigger warning for the next rant*

INHERENT IN THE WORD RAPE IS FORCE.

How hard is that to understand? You don't have to say "forcible rape". That's repetitive and ignorant, quite frankly. Rape, in and of itself, is a force of a sexual act on another human being against their will. There is no need to say "forcible rape". Rape, in and of itself, is plenty violating enough on its own. It doesn't need to involve a broken face, or dislocated shoulders, or bloody lips or creeping strangers breaking into the house to be about FORCE. And I could truly, really, honestly care less about why they are trying to do this. If they are truly, really, honestly doing this out of respect for life due to their objection to abortion, then they need to find another way to do this that doesn't involve dis-respecting women** by telling them that rapes only count if the violence is horrific enough on top of the inherent violation of rape.

The bottom line is that it is a slap in the face to rape victims to say that their rape doesn't count unless it was accompanied by an arbitrarily decided sufficient amount of additional physical violence. Rape is a violation and a crime regardless. Women do not need to be violently beaten and broken, in addition to being raped, for it to "count"- a lack of consent equals rape, period. I realize the sponsors of this bill are trying to hedge and say it is just in relation to taxpayer funded abortions, and as I said they have changed the bit about "forcible rape", but the language that they have been using speaks volumes about their general ideas about rape, violence against women, and helping rape victims, and it points out a glaring lack of understanding and compassion in all of those areas.

There are 173 sponsors of the bill- 9 Democrats, and 164 Republicans. You can find more information about it at OpenCongress.org. You can get information there on what representatives are sponsoring the bill, and if you would like you can write to your representative.

**Men are raped too, but as the bill is tied directly to tax payers funding abortions in cases of rape or incest I'm not addressing male victims of rape in this instance.

Some Fluff After the Heavy

Did you know I have a serious obsession with Jim Hensen? And The Muppets? And especially Sesame Street? Oh warm fuzzies for every bit of that business. Here's a bit of Grover love. I almost can't handle his skinny little arms and his rumbly voice. It's too much to bear how much I love it. Here you go....



Also, can we talk about how rad Sesame Street has always been with being forward thinking, egalitarian, non-discriminatory, and celebrating so many different cultures/people/ideas? I *adore* this video of a young girl singing about how she loves her hair, just the way it is.



And last but not least, Big Bird learns about voting- sidenote, Snuffy is quite possibly my favorite character. If I had a favorite. I love how his mouth moves in circles, and his lashes are so long and flimsy. This is old school Sesame Street...

Stay. And Fight.

Today is National Coming Out Day. While we all have our own morals, and we all have our own opinions, here are mine. I wrote this when we found out that Prop 8 had passed, the same night we were celebrating the election...


Written Friday, Nov 14th, 2008
I’ve been thinking about how to write this since the night it happened. All things considered, Election 2008 should have left me a thoroughly satisfied person. Since the primaries way back last spring I’ve been fully invested in supporting Barack Obama’s campaign. I anxiously followed every news report, agonizing over some, celebrating over others, waiting and hoping and working and praying that in the end, yes, I would wake up on November 5th and see that he was my President Elect. As the days drew nearer, and it became more clear that looking forward to victory was not folly, the numbers, the pundits, the polls, the people- it was all there. Still, election day I was on a razor’s edge, breathless, just wanting it to be over and wanting it to be over the way I so hoped it would be.

There was something else happening Nov 4th- Brian’s birthday. We all agreed to get together at Bri’s house first, working ourselves up in the comfort of his apartment with CNN- and those holograms! They did the trick. We headed out to Gilley’s to meet up with even more people, and as we were walking across the parking lot the air was cold and the sky was clear and people were walking ahead of us and behind us and I was thinking of how I was pretty sure this night would end and everything seemed so perfect. My friends around me, joking and laughing and tussling with each other like puppies, happy in the night air, excited about what was happening, heading to what would end up a huge celebration party. The place was packed with people of every age and color, cowboys and yuppies and babies and grandmas, American flags, blue streaking through everything on hats and shirts and posters and balloons, we had done it. There was a necessary humility, and underneath that a paranoid fear that something could go terribly wrong, but all in all we all knew we had won, and won big. The tug of war arc of blue and red at the bottom left of CNN’s screen told us we were fast building a majority to support the new administration, and we were all talking about how we just couldn’t believe we were so young when the first black president was elected, how far we’d come, how hard we’d worked, but above all how much we believed in this new page in America’s history. We were moving forward. We would have a President who believed in personal sacrifice, in helping one another, in realizing we are only as strong as the weakest among us, that while we should strive individually we still, in the end, succeed or fail together, as a nation, as a people. When CNN put up the countdown for what would put Barack over the votes needed, the entire bar broke into a countdown, and then broke into shouts and tears and hugs, flashbulbs popping, cameras rolling, it was over and it was us and I really thought I couldn’t handle so much happiness. The previous years were a hard 8 to turn, and it had. The sheer numbers across the board were a stunning indictment of the previous administration’s policies and a clear mandate from the people. We were moving forward. I leaned into my friend’s, my family, my heart, these people I have knit to me over the past 7 years, and just breathed it all in. It was perfect.

It was perfect. It was.

And then Arielle leaned into my right side, holding her phone, still lit up from the text she had received. “Prop 8 passed” was all she said. It passed. And see this is why I couldn’t write this blog. Because I am crying so hard right now I can hardly see to type. Prop 8 passed. Prop 8 passed. Prop 8 passed. I don’t know how many times I need to type it to try and force everyone- every single person- who fought for it, who cried yes to it, to understand what they did to my friends, to my family, to my heart. To that night. When we were naïve and overjoyed and looking forward to a new day. That night, when Prop 8 passed, said yes, if you are gay or a lesbian, you don’t count. You don’t get those rights. Your love is wrong. We won’t let you get married. I want you to be in the middle of an ecstatic crowd, next to people crying and clapping and giddy with relief, and then come into my experience, that circle, seeing my friends clapping and cheering, and standing with Arielle knowing they would know soon too. When we told them, it just all stopped. You would have thought that we were somewhere else completely. I will never, ever, forget the look on Katie’s face. There wasn’t even anger. It was just utter grief. Just broken down, nothing left to fight with even if you wanted to sadness. She left and we comforted those around us who stayed and cried into our shoulders, our hugs, our own tears. It was absolutely shocking. It made me sick. I would never, ever have thought that Prop 8 would pass. I was worried about so many other things, but I don’t think any of us really thought that people would step into a poll booth in California and vote to write a constitutional amendment to keep two consenting adults from joining together in marriage. I don’t even know what to write. It’s all been said before, and nothing can change those people’s minds. The blatant lies funded by several million given by churches and their members no doubt helped solidify the fears they already had. And yes, this is a democracy. Majority rules. But if the majority of people in this country still think that marriage between two men, or two women, is the most pressing issue of our day, the most important task to confront, I am beyond disappointed, beyond disgusted. I don’t even know what I am.

There really is nothing left to say. These are people who, when they kiss their husband, or look at their wife, or watch their children sleeping, must not seriously be able to comprehend that every day gay and lesbian couples and parents do the exact same things. They fall in love. Their hearts race and they’re nervous and giddy and excited. They have poems and songs. They dance together in their kitchens. They fight over stupid shit. They don’t like their partner's parents, or they annoy one another with quirky habits. They take off one another’s shoes when they fall asleep, read the paper together over breakfast, text each other sweet messages, they want and raise children, they love and worry about them- I can’t even go on, this is ridiculous, really do I have to spell this out that they are human beings? That they are no different from you? Really? I have to lay it out like that so you can understand that your petty self centeredness is destroying their chance at having a marriage? That for some couples in California, that yes box that you so confidently checked, maybe with righteous pride, may have drawn a big X right down the middle of their marriage license? They went to bed as wives in their house, as husbands in their apartment, maybe with cats tripping down the hall or babies sleeping next to them, and they woke up to find… what? How dare you. You make me sick. I am filled up, eaten up with disgust for you. With frustration that you are unmoved in the face of the grim reality that your choice wrought. That you can walk peacefully through this earth, that you are pleased with the stand you took.

What stand was that? What we fight against the strongest says a lot about us as people. And what were you fighting against? With 25 million dollars. With speeches from the pulpit of your church where you speak of love. With deceptive ads and fear mongering? You tell me. I want to hear you say it. You were fighting against the right for two consenting adults to join their lives together in love under the rights and protections and honor marriage is given. So. In this time of economic crisis, when we are in two wars, when people are losing their homes, their jobs, their life savings, when children in the richest country in the world can’t go to the doctor, when women are still left unequal under the law to men, when we are polluting our earth, when we have so many problems that need our attention and time. This is your fight. In this time, you chose this fight. This was more important than volunteering with children. This was more important than donating your money to feed the poor. This was more important than making care packages for troops. This. You have chosen your fight. And it has defined you. You should be ashamed. I am worn out with it. No logic can sway you. I give you the humanity of those who you cannot fathom are like you, and you sneer at it. You would rather children stay locked in a broken foster system than be given to a loving home with two mommies, or two daddies. Such is the depth of your conviction that being gay or lesbian is some kind of deal breaker in being able to relate to one another as humans. Somehow that love is inherently different. You obsess over the mechanics and it makes you uncomfortable and you just stop right there wrapped up in your intolerance, stubborn, you just can’t make that last step and say that the love they feel for one another is every bit as real, and valid as what you feel.

So. Where do we go from here? I’ll tell you. I’ll go down as someone who saw you for what you were. Who are you? Let’s look to the history books. You are the man beating his wife, because she’s just a woman and no law protects her body. You are the factory owner bending the backs of children over the endless hum of the sewing machines. You are the men throwing women into jail because they dared reach for the ballot. You are the pushers of laws that forbid blacks and whites to marry. You are the cop setting dogs on people marching for their freedom. And no, that’s not too harsh.

You came into that night, into my circle of friends, into our knot of happiness, and you attacked us. You hurt them and that kills me. You denied them their equal rights under the law. You don’t know what you’re doing, and you don’t know who you are. But I do. And someday in the not too distant future, in history books that have yet to be written, everyone will know who you were. You will take your spot in that long line of mistakes, of bigotry, of ignorance fueled by fear and division.

Someday my children will ask me “How could they have ever thought such things?”

Your children will have a very different question. I hope you’re ready for that day.
____________________________________________________________________________________

Some would say the above is very harsh. I think it's very real, and raw, emotion. This was a little over a week after it happened, and I was still this upset. And I'm not even the object of the discrimination! This is empathetic rage. I can't even imagine if I was trying to build a life with another woman, and a family, and I wasn't able to access the rights, protections, and privileges of marriage. I can't imagine being gay and giving my life to my country, serving and sacrificing, knowing all the while that if they knew who I was, if they knew my true self, they would abandon me. That the very offer of my LIFE is not worth it to them, because of who I love.

Come out STRONG. Come out PROUD. And come out ready to FIGHT. We are not there yet, but we are on our way.

Farewell Summer

It's officially Fall (or as official as a delineation between seasons can ever be) but here's a song to celebrate Summer. See you next year kid. You were so very good to me in 2010.

Wishes

I love this woman.