Power of Choice

“It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” ~ J.K. Rowling

I’m a whore. Not only am I a whore, I CHOOSE to be a whore, a big nasty whore. I’m not the only whore in the neighborhood either, not by a long shot. All my sisters are whores. My friends are whores too! I’ll even go so far as to say that several of my nieces are whores. Some may even be waiting for the day when they too can take their rightful place as whores. Hey, maybe they can start a club: The Whorelets or Future Whores of America. I like that one, it sounds so patriotic.

Know what else? I like it.

Some of you may be wondering what has prompted me to embrace my whorish nature. Well, I really did not know I was a whore but apparently I’ve been a whore since way back in the day.

According to media-whore and blowhard Rush Limbaugh, any woman that chooses contraception is a whore since contraception allows you to let your freak flag fly. Damn, had I only known before. Do you realize how much random sex I missed having? Do you realize how many potential partners I passed on? Damn it all to hell! Why do I find out the good stuff too late!!!

Specifically, I’m talking about the filthy lies that Rush and others on the right (I’m looking at you Ray Romano’s TV wife) are using to smear smart, driven, law student Sandra Fluke whose only “crime” was to try to testify in that farce on “religious freedom” that Darrell Issa recently held.

Let me explain in simple terms what is going on here and it certainly ain’t impinging on anyone’s “religious freedom”.

Ms. Fluke was not going before a congressional panel to talk about why she needs free birth control so she can screw anything and everything that moves. No. Ms. Fluke testified: "These denials of contraceptive coverage impact real people. In the worst cases, women who need this medication for other medical reasons suffer dire consequences. A friend of mine, for example, has polycystic ovarian syndrome and has to take prescription birth control to stop cysts from growing on her ovaries. Her prescription is technically covered by Georgetown insurance because it’s not intended to prevent pregnancy. Under many religious institutions’ insurance plans, it wouldn’t be, and under Senator Blunt’s amendment, Senator Rubio’s bill, or Representative Fortenberry’s bill, there’s no requirement that an exception be made for such medical needs. When they do exist, these exceptions don’t accomplish their well-intended goals because when you let university administrators or other employers, rather than women and their doctors, dictate whose medical needs are legitimate and whose aren’t, a woman’s health takes a back seat to a bureaucracy focused on policing her body."

This whole episode started when the Obama Administration released a list of preventative measures aimed at women’s health which recommended that insurance companies provide without deductibles. This included prescription birth control, breast-pump rentals, counseling for domestic violence, and annual wellness exams and HIV tests. This list was based on the recommendations from an independent advisory panel of health experts.

The Catholic Church took issue with providing free birth control since it ran contrary to its teachings. Not to worry, the Obama Administration had a plan for that, shift it back to the insurance companies for the Catholic Church and everything would be fine.

Hold the phone! Outrage poured in from the right. How dare the government tell any “job creators” not just religious institutions, that it HAD to provide certain health benefits thru health insurance policies? How could a person of conscience sleep at night knowing that that their employees might be fornicating with no intention of procreation.

This is not a religious freedom argument. After all, how many congressional representatives have held hearings on the evils of vasectomies? Or, denouncing the man-whores that demand their Viagra (please do not tell me that this is a procreative drug or I will slap you, hard)? Or standing up for the job creator that is a practicing Jehovah’s Witness and has to offer health insurance policies that cover blood transfusions?

See how easy that argument is to debunk.

It’s a control issue. More specifically, it’s about controlling our bodies and our futures, because then they control us.

Saddle up ladies; it’s time to choose. Do we choose to be empowered and make decisions about our bodies and our futures or do we not?

Empowered women have the power to change the world and that scares a lot of people.

Choose wisely, they have consequences.

Petty Annoyance

Work hard, annoy a liberal ~ Bumper Sticker

I haven’t seen this bumper sticker for a while but it popped up again this morning. It’s one that I have never really understood seeing that I’m a liberal and I work hard. Pat’s a liberal (well, really he’s a socialist) and he works hard. I have liberal friends; smart, educated people. They’re hard workers too. See not so much with the making sense.

So, I started thinking: If hard work doesn’t annoy me as a liberal, what does?

Oh, here’s one. I hate being preached at about “family values” by politicians who live secret lives while trying to deny basic human and civil rights to others. How dare I sit here in my “traditional” marriage, with my one boy and one girl, working hard to earn a living and trying to teach the children crazy “family values” like self-respect, tolerance, acceptance, and love. Holy Moses, we should be shot or indefinitely detained for spreading the crazy notions that the gays and minorities are equal and deserving of love and respect. That’s crazy talk! Crazy liberal talk. Why it’s practically socialism (everyone wave to Pat!).

Know what else makes this liberal crazy mad? People trying to get into my uterus! I know it can hold people but damn folks, one at a time. I’m not Kate Gosselin. Plus the weight limit for my uterus is about 8 lbs. So, sorry guys that want to occupy my uterus but you’re too big to ride that ride. Go play somewhere else. How about somewhere on your body? Hey, why don’t you start with your penis; you may not be as cranky anymore when you’re done.

Here’s another thing that annoys liberals, making up false allegations so you can legislate regressive ideas into law and disenfranchise millions of people. In other words, voter fraud. The totally baseless claim that Mickey Mouse is voting in primaries all over the country and is subverting democracy! Democracy people, being subverted, by an animated mouse! Where’s the outrage? Will no one think of the children? Or Daffy Duck! He’s going to be hella pissed off when he finds out. Hey, want to investigate some fraud, how about that nonsense in New Hampshire when that Republican douche-nozzle, Breitbart, committed real, actual voter fraud. Let’s put him in prison! Or maybe we can finally investigate the software for the Diebold voting machines. You know, the ones that don’t give a printout of the votes cast. Nothing fishy there.

So, let’s recap. If you decide annoying a liberal is something you would like to do in your day-to-day life, you can be a self-loathing, small-minded bigot; you can proclaim that you know best for women everywhere; or you can make up outrageous plots that have no basis in fact, create legislation to foil these “plots” by drafting and passing legislation to make voting harder; thereby, disenfranchising millions. 

Heck, if your industrious enough maybe you can do all three since all of the above annoy liberals.

Hard work, not so much.

The Light Box

From the light box in front of Southgate, you could see Hyde Square to the left, to the right you could follow the trolley tracks all the way to Forest Hills; Boylston Street was straight ahead and Moraine Street was at your back. Sitting on the light box was like being in the middle of EVERYWHERE! ~ Melissa Brady

The light box ruled my life. Of all the places from my teenage years, this is where many adventures began. Whether we ended up at Daisy Field, the Pond, or Parley Vale, the Connelly Library, or Kelly’s Rink, we generally started out at the light box.

Southgate is gone, so is Greasey’s. Ditto Kelly’s Rink. Different people live in our homes. Yet, the light box remains, waiting. It stands as the guardian of our youth, a witness to our hopes and fears, our triumphs and failures. It was our gathering space, the hub of our universe.

Jamaica Plain (JP) back in the 70s and 80s was starting to change. It, like many Boston neighborhoods went through a difficult, turbulent metamorphosis. Busing altered the schools and the communities. Many families moved their kids to Catholic schools while still others left entirely. There was a lot of turbulence and violence, poverty and addiction.

But it was always beautiful, even with urban blight. There was, and remains, an incredible array of natural landscape to serve as our backyards: The Emerald Necklace, which includes Daisy Field and Jamaica Pond. Of course we had the Arboretum and other, smaller, urban oases.

We also had rooftops and blacktop. Nothing was missing. We had hopes and dreams. We had each other. We are dangerously close to devolving into a bad 80s song!

I had great friends and outrageous sleep-over’s (at my house and others). Boyfriends and favorite “private” spots, underage drinking and teen pregnancy, and friends lost to accidents and drugs. My memories are filled with living and longing and a little regret.

Every now and then, I wish I could go back. Not because I want to reclaim my youth or have a last hurrah; no, I’d like to take a trip in the way-back machine just so I can tell my teenage self to slow down, to not be in such a rush to experience all the grown-up things. To enjoy the carefree and uncomplicated few years we get. But, like every other lesson in my life, the lesson to slow down finally arrived, panting and out of breath after a 20 year sprint through poor decisions and questionable choices.

I don’t want to change where I am in my life. Not even a little but I would like to alter the path that got me here, especially now that I have teenagers of my own. I would like to be able to hold up my past as an example rather than a warning. But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

So fellow light box survivors, join me in a toast: “Here’s to us and those like us, for when we pass the world will never see the likes of us again!”

Girls and Boys

Sexism is a social disease ~ Author Unknown

Both my kids are athletes. Pretty good ones if you ask me.

Dylan plays lacrosse. He works hard and spends time practicing. When he’s home you can find him in the yard, throwing his ball against the garage wall and catching it or practicing shots on goal. He signs up for every clinic and off-season skills training he can. Recently, he has been studying how others play by watching college and professional games on television and further developing his lacrosse IQ. It helps that he lives with a walking lacrosse encyclopedia. Hint, it’s not me.

His sport takes a toll on his body. He is a walking bruise. Honestly, he looks like he gets beat with a metal pole. This week he’s nursing a pretty bad sprained foot but he loves lacrosse and he’s good at it so he deals with the physical pain. I like that he has a healthy balance between his work ethic and his play ethic.

Emma is a dancer. She works hard and spends hours practicing. When she’s not in the studio dancing, she’s home dancing or stretching or doing crunches. She is pathological in her pursuit of her goals. She is also a walking bruise. Her shoulder always looks raw and painful and on certain days her knees look purple; the consequences of throwing herself on hard floors 5 days a week.

Where Dylan is an athlete and a good one, Emma is a warrior. Her dedication and work ethic have taken her beyond her natural talent.

It’s why I get so incredibly ticked off when I hear “girl” being used as an insult. A derogatory remark.  You know what I’m talking about: “You look like a bunch of girls out there.” “You throw like a girl.” “Don’t be a Nancy.” Gah, drives me freaking crazy. Crazy!

Listen closely since I’m only going to say it once.

Being a girl is not a handicap.

Girl is not the inferior version of boy.

It is not an insult.

So zip it. If a man can’t perform to a certain standard set by men in manly pursuits, don’t call him a girl. Seriously. Don’t.

Think before you talk. Words have meaning. They shape people and they can hurt. Regardless of if you mean it or not, casual sexism is still sexism and it makes an impact on real actual people. This kind of demeaning rhetoric has no place in our lives. Ever.

Girls and boys are different. There is no doubt in my mind. This difference is not because of gender but rather because they are individuals. Different experiences create different outcomes. Each person develops individually. Each person is different.

Boy is not inherently better than girl.  So stop making girl an insult when a boy doesn’t measure up.

Stop it.

It makes me angry.

Don't make me angry; you wouldn’t like me when I’m  angry.

Seriously.

In sickness…

The greatest wealth is health ~ Virgil

I’m not a good patient. I’m sure that is surprising to exactly none of you. I bring this up since the last three days have been spent in a haze of headache, sleep, and other less ah, pleasant, pursuits. Since Sunday, I have eaten four slices of dry white toast. No, that’s not correct.  Three slices of dry white toast and one buttered slice (the buttered one was this morning to see if I could “tolerate” it; so far so good). As I write this, I am having my first dose of caffeine since Sunday. Sunday people! It’s Wednesday! Afternoon!

I have missed three days of work (they really are the best!) and up until 15 minutes ago, had decided that there would be no blog entry this week. Perhaps the caffeine is starting to work, or the butter! Bacon would probably make me a superstar!

Usually I can suck it up and soldier on. Not this time. Whatever this thing is, it’s nasty and vicious.

Whoa, ugly wave of nausea there AND a brand spanking new headache! Thank you, Jesus!

Just when you think you’re starting to feel just the slightest bit human, it turns back around and doubles down on the misery.

Two of us are down now; it got Emma yesterday. She had a long, brutal night and her day isn’t faring much better.

Yikes, just had to sneeze and forgot to brace myself for the pain! (TMI Alert: Body hurts from so much vomiting) 

I’m seriously hoping that this skips the guys. I haven’t managed much more than sleeping, sipping ginger ale and going to the bathroom. I can’t imagine what will happen to the menfolk. They’ll probably devolve back to fetuses.

I’m keeping my disinfected fingers crossed…

(I’ll be back next week hopefully better... stronger... faster)

Maryann

I was already to post a blog about 2011 and what a difficult and painful year it was for my family and me. I was looking at the past year and weighing the bad against the good when 2011 decided it wasn’t through with us yet.

On Friday, my Aunt Maryann collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital. This morning the family was told that she has no brain function. Her siblings, including my Mom, are on the way to the hospital to hold her hand while they remove her from life support.

Maryann was, briefly, one of the permanent residents of Sheridan Street. She and her son, Danny lived with us while she was going through some difficult times. Maryann was the one who brought Andrea into our lives. I remember before she got married she was, to me, to most beautiful woman in the world. I remember her wedding and being so mad that Tracey and I were too young to attend while Debbie and Patty got to be in the wedding. I remember crying when she moved to Montana.

I remember her absolute emotional breakdown when Elvis died. I remember seeing her again, when we buried her brother, Walter and her shock at learning that I had kids. (I was a charter member of the “I’m Never Having Kids Club!”).

Mostly what I remember is too much time passing without seeing her. That changed recently. She had started to inch her way back into the family and everyone welcomed her with open arms.

It’s not much but it’s all we get this go round.

Don’t let petty bullshit get in the way of what’s important.

Family first.

Family forever.

Oh, and fuck you 2011. I hate you so much that if you were a person I would stab you in the face until you died.

Merry Freaking Christmas

Christmas is a time when people of all religions come together to worship Jesus Christ. ~ Bart Simpson

Ok. I have taken a deep breath; I have counted to ten; I have counted backwards from 10; I have bit my lip; I have walked away. None of it is helping. I was just going to walk away from it this year and not engage but I tried. I failed. So here goes nothing…

Did a memo go out warning people that they would be stoned if they uttered the words “Merry Christmas” this year? I only ask because I’ve seen more pictures and status updates and news items on how people are making a stand and saying “Merry Christmas”. The hostility in some of them is barely repressed let me tell you. Did the memo go out that clearly said that everyone has to say “Happy Holidays” instead of Merry Christmas? Who sent that memo? Because, I didn’t get it and, well, I’m kinda pissed since now I don’t know what to say or how to act this holiday season.

Can someone, anyone, please tell me who told them they can’t say “Merry Christmas”. Please, it’s really making me bug-fuck crazy. And please, please, do not tell me it’s because of the jacked-up nonsense that Bill O’Reilly and Fox News are spouting about a “War on Christmas”. Really, please don’t. It’s not true. 

Christmas is not under attack. 

Christianity is not under attack.

Are Christians not free to practice their religion? Are Christians not free to go to the house of worship of their choosing and worship their god in their way? Of course not because that would be un-American! Here in America, you can practice any religion you like or none at all. You can try a different one every week if you choose. There is nothing stopping you from pursing your religion your way. In private. As a private citizen. We have no state sponsored religion in America. Remember?

We are not a Christian nation! Sorry kids it’s true. I don’t care about the recent surge to modify history to prove otherwise. We are not, nor have we ever been, a Christian nation! I've said it before and it bears repeating: This nation was not founded for Jesus or the spreading of his gospel. It was founded on the premise that men are able to self-govern. 

Can someone, in a reasonable manner, with appropriate documentation show me where Christianity is being attacked. I’m pretty plugged in and I don’t see it at all. Is it because we can’t have a crèche in the town square? Or pray in schools? Or the ten commandments in the courthouse? Are Christians being fed to the lions again? Honestly. What’s the issue?

I have an idea if you don’t like the “holiday” trees or the “holiday” decorations that cities and towns expend time and energy on, let’s stop doing them. All of them. Christmas, as we are so often reminded, is a religious day and as such has no business being promoted or endorsed in any government building. No religious holiday does.

We have real problems that face us. Let's not get distracted by the bogus ones. 

Enjoy your families and your traditions. If you want Christ in Christmas that's your right. For me and mine, we're content with the Fat Man.