Light and Darkness

Purpose

Find out who you are and do it on purpose. ~ Dolly Parton

Great Question

As previously mentioned, I went for a psychiatric intake today. I don't relish them I hate changing doctors for any reason and looking for a new mental health professional is absolute torture for me.

In getting evaluated, they ask questions. About your childhood. Your feelings. Your drug use. Your history. Etc etc etc.

Today I was asked the best question in the world. I hadn't been asked this before. At least in not a poignantly grand way. And it's not a surprising questions. If any of you pull a book on schizophrenia or bipolar or another behavioral illness, you'll find it's really a standard question. Again, I just haven't been asked it quite this way.

So, here's the question:

"Do you have magical powers?"

I'm not going to tell you what I said.

Carrie and The Red Shoe Diaries

I was not able to post a happy birthday to my friend Carrie last week. I am so sorry, Carrie. But I did talk to you and wish you a good Carrie Day. And to let you all know....Japan knows how to celebrate Carrie Day in style. They closed their financial markets in recognition of the moment....some may argue it was for a national holiday but we all know it was in recognition of their native daughter, Ms. Carrie who they wish would return to the homelands.

In belated sacrifices to the most honorable Carrie, I offer a story. A simple tale of humility and humor and cautiously called the Red Shoe Diaries. I do this because it's one of the funniest things in the world...and honestly, I have to laugh at myself.

Once upon a time when I was in my late teens, I made a visit to the local Naval Hospital in Millington. I don't recall what was my ailment but that is unimportant anyway. I was asked to supply a urine specimen which is never unusual at a doctor's appointment. I went into the public restroom because I wasn't directed to a private one and did my deed. Sitting there I noticed the most beautiful red heeled shoes on the feet of another stall user. I made a mental note then that indeed the shoes were stunning.

Now...I set my precious little liquid quietly on the toilet paper dispenser as I straightened myself out. And in turning around in the stall, I knocked the filled cup over. I had not tightened the lid on it yet. To my horror, the cup and its contents fell to the floor spilling all over the woman's feet and her awesome shoes.

I gasped and stood there in pure horror. What could I do? Nothing. I apologized over and over to the woman. I was completely embarrassed. I could find nothing to say to make up for this huge faux paus. And graciously the woman was compassionate and understanding. She was so kind.

To hide my humility, I hid in the stall. I waited for her to leave. I stood there listening to her finish up, walk out of the stall, wash her hands, compose herself, and leave. I waited until I heard the door swish close. I was as silent as the dead within their graves. I did not want to face her.

Once I knew she had left, I finished my business within the bathroom trying even to provide another sample. I left after a much cushioned amount of time between her departure and my own. Imagine my relief from having to face a woman from such an embarrassing encounter.

I returned to the doctor's office with cup in hand. I walked up to the woman standing at the counter and waited for her to finish conducting her business with the desk clerk. At that moment, I looked down at her feet and saw THE red shoes.

Belated HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CARRIE! I love you so dearly, my friend.

Ketchup

Mama Tomato, Papa Tomato, and Baby Tomato were out walking. Every few feet, Baby Tomato falls behind. Papa Tomato walks back to him and tells him to walk faster. And he does...for a bit. Baby Tomato lags behind again and Papa Tomato walks back to him and huffily tells him to walk faster. And he does...for a bit. Baby Tomato is now much further back than both Mama and Papa. So Papa Tomato walks back to Baby Tomato, stomps on him, and says, "KETCHUP!"

...

I have been absent from the online world. I haven't had an opportunity to get to the library for a myriad of reasons. None really important or shall I say...really nothing I care to discuss. I've missed a few things to post on during my stay away and I intend to try and make up.

I am here now because I was downtown for another reason. I went to the local crazy house this morning to get evaluated. Not ready for a committment as of yet but I'm heading slowly into dangerous territory again. To stave such a crisis, I decided it was in my best interest to have an intake. I'm on standby for an appointment next Monday. Evidentally standby is my best chance at seeing someone before sometime next year. I'll have to sit around all day in the hospital hoping some other crazy person will no show or cancel their appointment.

If you have never seen the workings of a mental facility, I suggest you take a field trip...no, really. You can't exactly do that. But, it is an experience worth mentioning. Every place is different but there are similarities that don't go unnoticed. The patrons of such wondrous joyful fantastic places are eccentric to say the least.

Anyway....need to get back on the meds. Like that isn't obvious.

Do you know what I really wish? Honest and truely. I wish that I could really embrace my craziness. I wish I could do what other mentally ill people seem to be doing. I want to go absolutely mad. I want to act on every impulse that is surging through my mind and body and just show the freakin world how crazy I really am. Maybe then, I'll be able to convince people that I'M FUCKING SCREWED IN THE HEAD!

Anyway.

This year is almost over and yet again....life is the same. Predictable. So fucking predictable.

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat

Fuck it! I'm putting up the tree this weekend. Rule generally that Christmas decorations come out the day after Thanksgiving but I'm feeling miserable and I need a lift.

....and I am swearing entirely too much....damn it all to hell.

Laughter

Laughter is an orgasm triggered by the intercourse of sense and nonsense. - unknown

The most wasted of all days is one without laughter. - e.e. cummings

Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing. - Ken Kesey

A laugh is a smile that bursts. - Mary H. Waldrip

A sense of humor... is needed armor. Joy in one's heart and some laughter on one's lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life. - Hugh Sidey

Mood (or also known as Perhaps a Little White Pill Wouldn't Be So Bad)

I woke up depressed on Monday. Wanted to cry all day long. And did at times also. I found out that the job I really was looking forward to interviewing for had been filled and I wasn't even going to get an interview.

Woke up Tuesday saying capricious and capriciousness. Leftover from my lucid dreaming from the night. Still in a blue mood. Cry, cry, cry. Went to Em's Family Reading Night at school last night. Wanted to punch principal in face. Didn't even look at her because of such hateful thoughts. Thought it best to just stay very close to Em and FAKE THE HAPPINESS. Did have a nice brief sunny moment when the school librarian remembered me from last year.

Woke up this morning at 2:30 with horrible nightmare taste in my mouth. Train cars were smashing and crushing people and not from the front. They were falling on top of people from rotting tracks above. I was one of the people on a track below. We were all dressed in clothes from the late 1800s. My dog got smashed. I almost called (or text messaged) two people in a panic and realized that I'd probably get no response. FUCKERS!!!

Still sad today. And also hateful. Realize that there are people in my life that I just need to forget about and I NEED TO STOP TRYING TO GET ANYTHING OUT OF THE RELATIONSHIPS!!! (fuckers!) Mean. Mad. And that whole jolly rot.

Waiting for tomorrow. Don't like what may come out of it. I volunteered last week to be a chaperone on Em's field trip. Perhaps I should cancel. Don't want to disappoint Em BUT I am not in the mood to deal with any other child other than my own. Good God, please help us all.

I really just want to ball up in a corner and cry. I want to also make the people in my life that hurt me, hurt. Would love to trade the emotional shit with them....just once.

Anyway....

The Bitch is Back

I think I'm going to go and hang with Elton for a bit. Everyone is grating on my nerves. I'm not in a bad mood...least I think I'm not. I don't realize that people are bothering the hell out of me until that little biting remark comes flowing from my mouth to sting the ears of my intended.

To all those I've insulted in the last couple of days, I am very sorry. Very very sorry.

Though my snipes can be used for great storytelling, they are not very kind. Geez, this is why I don't go in public when I'm pissy.

Swear....didn't think I was in a foul mood.

NaNo update

I've decided to post my writing in another blog but it's password protected. Not extremely worried about theft issues. I am not your next Nobel Prize winner in Literature. However, I have no self esteem about my writing. I may let some of you read it...Interested, let me know and I'll send you the password and site.

Thanks.

Good Movie

I think this will be the last post for today though my brain is getting enormously large with all the shit building up in it and then want and need to just plop it out like some big turd....ok, I'll stop with the poop metaphor.

Yesterday, Em and I went to the movies and saw The Incredibles. Excellent movie. Pixar just tops itself each and every freakin time. My God, you could see every strand on the character's head. The story was good. The characters were so likable...every single one and do I really need to say that Edna was my favorite. Hilarious. But probably one of my favorite bits of the film was the setting. Fabulous ode to the 60s spy movies. FANTASTIC!!! Thinking James Bond the whole time. Just great.

Gotta see. Must see. Need to see again. And is it just me or is it great to see Craig T Nelson doing something?

Shave Above Your Knee Day

Saw my gyno today which meant I had serious hair issues to deal with when I headed into the shower. Every woman between the Maiden and Crone stages of life know of the special care taken on Shave Above Your Knee Day.

Now, I'm not in a relationship (which is killing me by the way. I swear, I'm going to drop dead one day unless I get some) so the touching of my thighs and elsewhere is done only by yours truly. For such reason, the lower part of my legs are generally the only portion that sees the end of a razor and believe me....I've gone without the blade there too for weeks at a time (it's disgusting, I know).

Sooooo....into the shower with daunting task ahead. I scheduled thirty minutes for said operation. I'm anything if not thorough. Let me tell you, I was SURPRISED when a small African bushmen and his family were found in the bottom of my tub when I finished. BLOODY HELL!!!! Since when did I have so much hair on my friggin legs?! I guess I do have to take into account that I do have a lot of leg. One does not go around being 5'9" without some of that being leg. It's not like I have a four foot torso, nine inch head and the rest leg. Guess I shouldn't be surprised but still.

And not flattering to the feminine side of me, I must say that it depressed the hell out of me to see all that dark hair (how I wish I were a blonde below on just such occassions). I suddenly caught glimpse of my claim to fame: Missing Link Female Found Passed Out in Shower on Morning of Annual Gyno Visit. Suffice it to say, Shave Above Your Knee Day will come more often.

Let me also remark...the spread eagle position that we willingly put ourself into each and every year is not as embarrassing to me as my dry feet. I don't know what it is but I'm more embarrassed that my gyno is only inches away from my naked feet. I try to wear socks each time I go; and when I do, I do NOT take them off. Hell, if I could get away with it, I'd wear my shoes in the stirrups while getting my exam.

Closer by Nine Inch Nails

you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you
help me I broke apart my insides, help me I’ve got no soul to sell
help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything
help me tear down my reason, help me its' your sex I can smell
help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god

through every forest, above the trees
within my stomach, scraped off my knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
you are the reason I stay alive

. . .

Yeah, one of those days

China Girl

For a very long time, my friend Kim and her husband have been trying to have children. Kim's struggles were something I was introduced to when I met her at the Medical Center and unfortunately, they were something that everyone could sympathize with but could not erase.

BUT...over a year now, Kim and hubby went through the process of adopting internationally and a few months ago were given the fantastic news that a little girl was waiting for them in an orphanage in China. Kim is there now with her little one and will be returning to the States with her in hand.

To keep privacy for them, I'm not saying much more. But please just send good vibes to the new family and thanks to God for Kim's blessings. Send thoughts and prayers to all couples out there trying to add such joy to their lives. It's a hard road that though we can imagine, many of us will not have to face and truly live through.

I stand and give kudos to those who adopt. I applaud and bow to thee. For in your hands, is the future of a child whose parents couldn't provide. I want to say thank you.

Where a kid (and four adults) can be a kid

Want to thank everyone who remembered me on my day. Thank you. A Happy Birthday means so much more than any present. Starting with the phonecalls, the e-cards, the hard cards, the songs, the silliness and Em's beautiful birthday ribbon...it was all fabulous.

I decided to go The Cheese for Nae Day. For the last several years, I've indulged in sushi but thought I'd try something different. So....seven hundred and something odd tickets later, I called the day a success. Em and I were joined by Steph and her man, James and our friend Heather. I'll save the embarrassment of how odd I can truly be and leave it at "We had a fabulous time!" Just remember....thirty-two is only a state of mind.

Anyway...thanks again Ali, Emma, Carrie, James, Jennifer, Heather, the library staff, the MCC staff, Murray, Pop and Sheila, Sami, Shawn, Stephanie, and all the people at the Cheese and anyone else who sent cosmic greetings my way for all the birthday wishes. Woo Hoo! Lots of fun.

Showers of Goodness

Just some quick updates:

Put in an application at a retirement community yesterday for the Activities Assistant. This one is right up my and ally. I would get to play with the Grandmas and Grandpas. I really really really want this job. Hopefully this zeal for it doesn't change. Gosh!

NaNo WriMo is coming along. I love the NaNo counter. Each time I hit the word count on MS Word, I get a smaller count. Don't really know which is right but let's just say I like the counter. It's my new best friend.

I rewrote the beginning and it's moving along smother and swifter. I actually have been having dreams about my story and my main character. Good sign, yes? Either that or I'm having a mental break with reality...we won't discuss that. heehee

And yes, TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!!!! Hot damn! Thanks to my friends that have sent me greetings so far. Carrie, Ali and Murray. Thank you. I love you very much. And even if you're not a Nae-Dayer, I still love you....maybe....if you promise to recognize me next year. (I am kidding. I'm really not this grotesquely self-indulgent. If I appear grandiose, I'm usually being sarcastic....but anyway).

I've been creating like mad. Sewing purses and bags. Crotcheting blankets and such. Bracelets and all that. Some are saying that I should even sell my bags. I've thought about it but don't have enough courage to do that yet.

Anyways.....want to get as much done on the computer as possible before I'm booted off. If you haven't celebrated anything in a long while,feel free to ask for the day off today. Go have lunch and a drink. Consider my birthday yours. Indulge yourself. Be generous with yourself with your time. Have a date with yourself or your closest buds. Remember....it's Nae Day.

The 32nd Annual Nae Day

(Pensacola) Observers of this quirky little holiday are out today in full force celebrating in what may seem as odd style. This year marks the 32nd anniversary of Nae Day and so far it's rumored to be as electric as the thirty-first.

A spokeswoman for the international group of revelers said this morning in a statement, "Nae Day never proves to be boring. In the past including the debacle of Nae Day 1986, we have had our misses but those have proven inconsequential to the whole idea of Nae Day. Our successes show us that it's necessary to continue celebrating this spectacular and quite popular holiday. We, Nae-Dayers will be recognizing this day for a very long time."

Self proclaimed Nae-Dayers follow no specific form of celebrating the Nae. The general rule has always been "BYONDC," Bring your own Nae Day celebration (not to be confused with BEYONCE). Some common celebratory practices have included phonecalls, e-cards, flowers, and the like. The remarkable thing about Nae Day celebrations according to the celebrants is the practice of belated recognition of the day. Nothing is frowned upon. The most enjoyed habit of Nae-Dayers is the phone call to employers for a sick day to celebrate.

Nae Day originated on the Philippine Islands and quickly moved through the U.S. in the seventies. Following the trend of U.S. officiandos of the day, overseas groups popped up with fervored quickness.

At the time of printing, no original Nae-Dayers have been able to be reached for comment.

Imprecation

Yes...yes...I know. Stop with the post already. HEY! If I had internet at home, we wouldn't have this problem....Ok, I lie. I'd post just as much every single day. BUT that's me. Diarrhea of the mind.

So, I sign up for Word of the Day from a couple of sites. And honestly, I love it. I got hoary sometime ago and I just like saying it aloud. "What, dear. Oh no. Not saying anything about your sexual abandonment. Just referring to how old yours seems to be.  ahem"

Today's word of the day (and if you haven't signed up for something like this, you really ought to.) is imprecation.

"Whilst driving home after a hard day about, Naomi found herself behind an inept driver. Before the fool could pull away, she rolled down her window and yelled several foul and ominous imprecations including one about a goat, Jello and a stun gun."

See....improving your vocabulary is gooooooood.

frustration is...

wanting a fruit that is out of season.

remembering the last time you had a man full-on was when your child was about to turn one.

reading your own work and thinking "why the hell do I think I can write?!"

frustration is?

Christmas Greetings

I am beginning my Christmas greetings. Yes, it's early but I'm making things that take some time. Wire and pliers and such which is hard on the hands especially the fingers. If you are interested in getting something, let me know. I'd love to send you a small prize. Don't expect elaborate and expensive. I've got a few addresses of a few of you but send me an e-mail if you're interested. I'd like to do a card exchange as well. Kay?

Gangsta Gramps

Today is my grandfather's birthday. I call him Gangsta Gramps because of his high school graduation picture. Dark olive skin with dark hair and eyes in his beautiful suit. Looked like one of those guys named Louie that you would be afraid to take a ride with after just pissing off the Boss.

By far, my grandfather is my favorite relative. I've always had a fondness for the man. When I first came to the states a three decades ago, I attached myself immediately to him. I chose him among all others to adore and love unconditionally.

I remember when he would walk around his house with a Naomi clinging to him. I would stand on the top of his shoes and wrap my arms around his legs as he took giant steps around the kitchen. I remember sharing his pockets when walking side by side with him anywhere I could follow him. I remember his wrinkly beard scratching me when I leaned in to kiss him. His fingers missing from a grinding accident but his untruthfullness about sucking on them too long and too hard. His calling me his Southern Belle thick with a Wisconsin accent. Or his twinkling eyes that winked.

I always felt like his favorite and to me that meant alot. I was never anyone's favorite. But Gramps always seemed to understand my moods. When I got pregnant with Em, my relationship with him changed dramatically. I've lost the closeness that seemed to tie him and me. He's a stickler for that Catholic way of life and well, I just don't fit that mold anymore. It's hard to mourn a relationship.

But, today is his day. I called and left a message on my grandparents' machine wishing him a good day and lots of love for both of them. I hope he heard in my voice how much I love him so and how much I wish I were able to share his pockets again.

Happy Birthday, Grampa!

NaNo NaNo

Be kind. I just started writing last night so my word count is very, very low. I'm not sure where I'm going with it but I do have an idea in mind. Going to give you a snippet. Good God, what did I get myself into?!

I woke up craving a cigarette to both calm my nerves and as an act of defiance. I haven’t had one since leaving The Literate Joe. The new Nameless Twit insisted that I not light up in his place. "It stains the white yellow," he said. "Besides, don’t you know smoking is bad for you?"

I didn’t want to argue. Going without a cigarette was hard but screwing up my chances for a night of good sex was even harder. Unfortunately, I should have chosen the cigarette.

On top of the growing need for a stick, I have this sick sensation in the pit of my stomach. Probably the penance for taking the NT up on his offer. I know it’s not the six Red Snappers or five beers from last night. My usual tab. It is definitely the guilt from my night of debauchery I’ll have to make up for when I face the Heavenly Holy One.

"Shit! What was I think? He’s not even my type." As if some Hollywood script had been written for this morning, the NT rolls over but never wakens.

"Thank God." I stand and walk naked to the living room. I didn’t get the opportunity to see his apartment last night. Like some Architectural Digest junkie, the NT has decorated the space using some designer’s white wet dream as a model.

. . .

"Damn, commie bastards!"

My dad was very much not unlike Red Foreman on That 70s Show. Something went wrong or if someone was being unpatriotic, out came some remark about the communists ruining the good of American life.

I had a long post going about the recent election and my absolute depressing disappointment with the citizens of the United States of America for re-electing the puppet in office...but the computer suddenly decided to swallow it...for all you conspiracy lovers out there, I really blame the encroaching U.S. government and their patriot act and the dislike for what I had to say about the moron in office (you know I'm talking about you).

It was good to just get it out anyways. May never be written about again. Just know that I don't like my president and I fear for our lives. Foreign terrorists have nothing over a man who has his finger on the button and has no idea what the hell he is doing.

On the home front....I'm pissed. Bad day today. Not a very nice person with no sympathy for anyone outside my love circle; and unfortunately, I'm not letting anyone into my love circle. I want to tell everyone to go to hell. Not being very lady-like in my demeanor but who really cares....as one of my confirmation teachers, a crotchety Franciscan monk whose ears and bald spot turned bright red when he was angry yelled one day at our class, "No one loves you. When your mother dies, you're an orphan." So there. pfbbbt!

Got Em's hair cut today. Now...I know God has a weird sense of humor. My child was born with naturally curly hair not unlike my own. When she hit her toddlerhood, her locks went straight and lifeless much to my unhappiness. She's waltzing into her prepubescence as we speak and her hair has made yet another U-turn. Curly. Very curly. Looks like I've permed it. What the hell is up with that?! Has this happened to any other parent. Crazy, crazy. It's cute. It's wonderful. But I'm just stunned. Hormones. GO figure.

I had a job lined up. Working in the clinic cafe. Yay! Guaranteed job. Interviewed last Thursday (I think that's when it was) and was told that I would be hired. On Friday, the boss told Steph that he was going to call me and have me fill out the necessary paperwork. On Monday, I was told that there is no job. The new boss has been making all these new changes at the cafe that will be the demise of the place. I kid you not. His name is Bob. We call him Boob. Bob the boob.

Sooooo, the happiness that I held in my heart fled like a colony of ants fleeing from rampaging storm waters into my den after the hurricane. Oh well....next job.

Personally...I am so ready to date. I think I am. Perhaps. Let's just say that I want to but whether or not my psyche is ready is a matter of debate. Unfortunately that ol' unreliable psyche is in charge. Stupid psyche!

My friend Carrie came into town recently. She and the disaster relief crew from her church helped some of the hard hit folks in southern Alabama. Em and I were treated to a great night of seeing her. YAY! Plus, we got sushi. Double YAY! And, Carrie....I cried when you got into the truck at McDonalds. Hurts when the people you love aren't in your daily life. It really does.

Not much else. Was in good mood not too long ago. Now in crappy mood. I watched Girl, Interrupted the other day and it stirred my need to write about my own psychiatric hospital visit. Perhaps another day. Honestly, there are days when I suddenly remember I was in one. "Oh, yeah! That's right. Hmpf! How could I have forgotten." Ever happen to you? Something so significant in your life becomes a footnote?

Friend told me yesterday about being insular. Sort of stuck with me. Been saying it over and over since then (I tend to get hung up on words at times). Sums up the general feeling of malaise I'm feeling. Insular refers to feeling isolated or being narrow minded. Hmmm. Such a striking word.

Alrighty, then. Going to go and push down a blue-haired or something mean like that.

Self serving Naomi plug

By the way, next Tuesday is my birthday. If anyone wants to get me anything, I will have absolutely no objection. None.

hee hee

A Very Good Day

beautiful, curly reddish hair that behaves magnificently even with a gust blowing

perfectly executed parallel park directly in front of the courthouse

exercising my right to vote with a politically curious nine year old in tow

For your sake, VOTE

Today is the date to vote and be heard. If you’re not going to exercise your right to vote, then you suck! I say this with all the love and tenderness that you deserve. Remember, there are people in this country that don’t have this privilege. People who came to this country in optimistic idealism working hard to make their lives and those of their family better. They are wishing they had our rights to express what happens to them on a daily basis in our government. They spend years and dollars applying for visas, naturalization, and citizenship; and meanwhile they pay taxes and are affected by every decision that their adopted country blankets them with. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. Don’t give me crap that you don’t have a voice. Next time you get a ticket, don’t complain. Next time you pay your water bill, don’t complain. Next time you buy the bulk penny postage because rates increased, don’t complain. Next time your kid asks you for ten bucks for lunch for the week, don’t complain. Be a nice, complacent lemming and take it on the chin. Otherwise, VOTE!!!

. . .

As you know, I’m a Floridian and I’m making the jokes along side every other person in the country about our voting issues. Can I just say….for a state that is making quite a bit of revenue off of the lottery, Florida is not impressing me with its voting system. Retro works for fashion, not voting.

I received my sample ballot in the mail a couple of weeks ago. I understand how it works. Doesn’t take a neurosurgeon to make a mark (however, after the last election the precise and exact skill of a brain surgeon would have been greatly appreciated). Make a line, folks. That’s all. Bring a friggin ruler with you if you have to. Ask for assistance. It says on the ballot, “ASK FOR ASSISTANCE.”

The clarity of the paper ballot is not my issue. My row with the process is this: if Florida is making the aforementioned revenue, why the hell can’t it invest some money into technologically advancing this whole scene?! I’m not asking for computers with touch screen capabilities. I’ve voted in Tennessee. They have nice little voting booths that you walk into and draw the curtains. In front of you is a large panel with all the candidates and issues on the ballot. Next to each name/issue, which are written, larger than life is a button…and it lights up when you push it. You can change your mind a thousand times but nothing is counted until you push the stupendously ginourmous, hugegantic green button that nearly yells “VOTE” on it.

Florida, all I’m saying …

. . .

Ok…voting issues and candidates for sale

I have no landline phone. We all know this. And as a twisted little God-send, this has been a good thing.

Last night, my friend Steph received a phone call from Barbara Bush. For any of you not aware of this little practice….Georgie’s mommy wants all the big kids to vote for him. Now, I know she’s not the only person who recorded her support for her choice of candidate and has bombarded the homes of the American public. I know this. For her and all the pre-recorded messengers heralding their saviors, I want to say that during this current administration, we went through the whole headache of telemarketers and call lists. It’s time to pay, Barbara. You’ve become a door-to-door salesman, former First Lady Bush. You having something to sell just like AT&T. I say pay, baby. Fines. Fines. Fines. For interrupting our trick or treating last night. And our dinners a couple of weeks ago. And our business hours when the phone line was ‘previously engaged.’ Nothing is cheap…except the practice of selling your boy during my MRE dinner only minutes after having the landline finally fixed a month after a hurricane.

. . .

While I’ve mentioned the man in office, let’s talk about a few things.

I am NOT a Republican. I’m not saying that I’m Democratic or Green or Libertarian or Communist or what have you. I’m Naomi and I’ll vote however the hell I want. But for this rant, I am NOT a Republican.

I do not enjoy someone telling me how to live my life. You don’t support my decisions no matter how chaotic or un-mainstream they are. You are egocentric and believe that we all live like spoiled little white rich boys.

I’m sorry. I must have forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Naomi. I’m a single, thirty-one year old mother. I wasn’t a citizen until my teen years because my American GI father impregnated my mother during service in the Philippines and then abandoned her because he was just having fun while being a virile military man. When I work, I make enough money to give me headaches because I have to choose between paying my utilities, gassing up my car, feeding my child, or handing over my paycheck to the daycare so that I can work and make more money. Oh yeah, I’m bipolar and unlike a person who has cancer, I have less than thirty visits a year to my two-three doctors to maintain my illness according to my health insurance plan…when I can afford that. I have some years of college under my belt but despite the white washed saying that everyone can go to college…I can’t afford to finish. I couldn’t afford it, as is when I did go so to the working world, I’m just a high school graduate that MAY be able to get a general entry job. My lack of money has lead to what I see as insurmountable debt and a credit report that makes Germany’s war liabilities after both world wars look like candy. I’ll marry when I want to not because you’ll give me credit for being a good little Holly Homemaker but it still stings when you see a single mother as an unstable provider for her family….like two parent homes don’t produce future psychiatric patients. Hey, let’s ask the victim of domestic violence if her two-parent home is ideal for her three kids cowering in the closet. At least she’s married, right?

I don’t enjoy your intrusive little visits into my home. Don’t tell me what I should do with my body; what you believe is the good Christian thing to do. Hey, like you…I don’t like abortion but unlike you…I don’t think I should tell the woman don’t the street she needs to keep that bundle of joy in the oven especially when she and her husband are struggling to provide the stable home for the six others. And don’t put another stay at home Republican, home-schooling mom on television with her husband and brood of fifteen. It’s nice that you can wear matching outfits, but unless you plan on babysitting my kid for free so I can work…I don’t want to hear it. If your kids grow up to be maladjusted little shits that I have to pay more taxes on to house them in our overcrowded prison system because they didn’t get all the attention they deserve and were only seen as number 6 of thirteen, I’m walking over to your house with a group of my friends and we’re going to ‘talk’.

By the way, Joe Republican…I’m not Protestant. Neither are my friends that are Hindu, Buddhist, Catholic, Wiccan, and atheist. Unless you plan on putting the tenements of Islam in the courthouse next to the Five Pillars and Jewish Law, shut up about the Ten Commandments and Under God. I’m tired of it. We’re not all like you…and those that are more similar to you than I, they’re not like you either. Stop preaching and trying to convert me. You are just as harmful to me as David Koresh and Jim Jones.

And since we’re mentioning mainstreaming our society….since when did giving the same civil rights to couples wanting a legal union in this country imply Jim Bob can marry his goat?! Are you that much of an idiot? That’s the stupidest argument I’ve ever heard. Only people who are afraid of what happens at their family reunions is going to be revealed use that stupid logic. Perhaps that’s why the American people elected a President whose IQ doesn’t break the triple digits. Needed someone to represent the 'dumbing down' of society. Bobble head for the masses.

God, don’t get me started on education….

Is it just me or does it seem that anyone who thinks for themselves is seen as a Liberal who is trying to rock the boat and inject America with unholy orders? I hate this image that a person who doesn’t want another individual to dictate how his/her life is managed is seen as this hedonistic pagan plaguing society with his/her orgiastic, unhealthy choices. Yeah, like living like a conformist in a mob mentality society is good for me.

. . .

Just one more thing. In some states, an amendment is coming to the floor tomorrow that I’m just not thrilled about. In regards to abortion, it discusses the privacy rights of a minor in notifying her parents/guardians.

Hell ya, notify me. In our society, I am responsible for my child until she becomes a contributing ADULT member of it. She has no legal right to vote until she’s eighteen. She cannot drink until she is twenty-one. If our society has deemed our children unfit and uneducated to make a decision of weighty importance in regards to consuming alcohol or electing a governing official, don’t tell me that you think it’s ok that she can get an abortion without my notice when she’s fifteen.

In many states if my child is truant, I’m held responsible. Parents have spent time in jail for their child’s lack of good judgment in school attendance. If my child is consistently late, it’s practice for the school to send children’s services to investigate.

If my minor child falls down and hurts herself and requires medical attention, who is getting the bill? Me. Not the child.

Whose insurance does my minor child go on when she drives? Not her own.

Who signs the permission slip for a school field trip for a minor child?

Doesn’t my underage child need my permission to get married?

Do movie theaters enthusiastically admit a group of underage children unaccompanied by an adult?

License permitted driver need a what in the front seat passenger side to drive a car?

Aren’t there laws that prosecute adults for doing anything illegal with a child under the age of eighteen?

So….if our society is telling me I am responsible for child until she is old enough to make her own decisions, then you better damn tell me she’s about to get an abortion.

I know there are children of incest and rape out there. I’m not naïve. If our rules work then the officials informing the parents are obligated to follow the rules of the system. We see it all the time with CPS, the police, social workers and the lot being notified when a child with bruises enters an emergency room.

But if God forbid, something horrific happens in that surgical room during an abortion that I didn’t know about…who is going to be responsible for taking care of my child’s body if she hemorrhages, slips into a coma, or dies? I don’t see the doctors or medical facilities taking care of that. I don’t see the whole of society being responsible for her. I see Dr. Schmoe calling me and see the lot of you turning your backs on those decisions.

If my child gets pregnant, let me decide with her how we deal with it. You hold me responsible for her in every other aspect of her life. And let’s not forget…she is a kid. She’s not making informed adult decisions as is. Do you think she’s going to make one during such an emotionally stressful time?

. . .

Good god, I can go on but I won’t.

Just understand that we are given an amazing opportunity being members of this country. Don’t let your name on the register’s list go unchecked. Vote! Even if you sit on your ass in your living room every damn day and do nothing else, you are affected by the governing practices of our elected officials. The nice bag of chips gripped in your right hand that cost $2.50 is heavy with more than chips. Which farmer grew the potatoes? Did the government subsidize his crops or import them? Who’s footing the bill for the gasoline charges for transporting those suckers from the farm to the processing plan to the stores to your grubby little grease-stained fingers? Don’t tell me none of this concerns you.