Tag: being me

  • quick update

    I am in Kansas for the night. Had an unpleasant interaction with a teenager working at fast food place in Oklahoma earlier today. Maybe I’ll write about it later. I’m not sure what they are teaching in Oklahoma along the lines of customer service or professionalism, but I do know that at least one person can say “fuck” loudly and often.

    I’m not really reading stuff that you guys are posting right now, although I plan to catch up in full once I get to where I am going (and get internet turned on). Please email me anything you really want me to know. I get email on my phone.

    Fish is still alive. <a href=”http://moblog.net/view/861915/fish-in-the-microwave” target=”_blank”>It is in the microwave</a>.

    Dogs and cats are still alive. Willow is the happiest of the bunch.

    Need to try to get some sleep now.

    P.S. the furnace never got fixed

  • Morning has broken

    like my poor aching back

    Cold and miserable, but a half hour (mostly on hold) with the RV people later, I have an appointment to have the heater looked at 200 miles from here.

    I ended up taking a shower, really more for the heat than the cleaning of pee, at that point, but getting rid of the pee was a bonus.

    I also washed my clothes in the shower.

    Have decided to throw away the comforter.

    I am iffy on doing that to the blanket, one of them is my favorite soft and comfy blanket.

    Fish still looks to be alive.

  • 4:45 AM

    and all is not well…

    First of all the furnace in the RV is not working and it is fucking cold. I am worried the fish is going to freeze to death. They (RV rental people) say they will try to get somebody out to repair it in the morning. They also say that I can go pick up a space heater at Walmart and they will reimburse for it. This was not possible as there is no 24 hour Walmart here.

    Tried to sleep anyway, despite it being fucking cold. Luckily, I have a warm blanket, a light blanket and a comforter. Xander was so cold he joined me under the covers to sleep, something he never does.

    We got 2 hours sleep before Willow came over and peed all over me. She soaked through all my bedding. After I killed her (okay, I didn’t really do that) I checked the pamphlet for the campground. It has a 24 hour laundry room. I bagged up all my stuff, took things so I could shower too, since, umm gross. Hauled my ass and tons of stuff over there and found a sign saying that as of Nov 1, the laundry room was closed from 10PM to 8AM.

    I squatted on the sidewalk and cried quietly, so as not to wake the other campers.

    I am cold and exhausted and have no place I call home. This 25 foot box is physically stressful to drive. My back and neck are killing me. I smell like cat piss, and I have no blankets to keep warm. I can’t even begin a load until 8. Who knows when somebody will come to fix my heater or how long that will take. I am already a day late and at risk for missing the movers on the other end. Check out time is noon, so if they can’t fix it by then… Well I won’t have slept anyway by then.

    I would toss all this bedding and buy new stuff so I could sleep, and a space heater… except, yeah, no 24 hour Walmart (or anything else).

    Xander has refused to use the kitty litter since setting foot in the box on wheels too, so perhaps we’ll have an encore soon. If not him, I’m sure Willow will do something. She hates me.

    The fucking Walmart can’t even bother with an answering machine that lets me know what time they do open.

  • quickie

    RV with two dogs, two cats, one fish, one teen and myself… is hell.

    Stopped for the night.

    All are safe. Quite concerned about the fish.

  • dumb candy

    Today’s Penny Arcade made me laugh and laugh… in a pathetic way.

  • Am I Twisted?

    I took one look at this site and thought “Homeschooling craft/history projects!”

  • My super power, let me show you it.

    I am Worst Case Scenario Girl.

    Let me catch the slightest glimpse of any bit of anything, and I can immediately run it down the path to its worst possible conclusion.

    I don’t mean that I can just tell you things that could go wrong. Actually, I likely won’t say anything to you about i at all. I just fast forward be boop Be BoOP BE BOOP in my mind right through ALL the bad bits. I hear it. I smell it. I feel the trauma. I experience telling others the bad news. I attend the funeral, and get into an argument with somebody there, and get a flat tire between the funeral location and the cemetery causing me to be late to the burial.

    This happens unbidden and very rapidly. I do not need anybody to tell me things will be okay. I don’t need anybody to tell me that my response is ridiculous. I have been doing this as long as I can remember and I already know that most of the time when I get an unexpected phone call, it is just because somebody decided to call me unexpectedly, and not because “omg the sky is falling”. It is just something that happens, and I cope. Most of the time. Yes, my blood pressure skyrockets and my heart races and my stress level soars, but I don’t freak out and I recover quickly. I am used to living with an impending sense of doom. While it was a propensity I was apparently born with (I used to call them daymares when I was young) rather than a talent I have developed, after all of these years, it serves me fairly well. Bad things do not shock me and knock me on my ass, and in general, in the moment of an emergency, I am able to deal with things reasonably well.

    This does have some relation to hating the phone though. It is not the only reason I hate the phone, but it definitely is a good portion of why I hate receiving unexpected phone calls. I often answer those with “What’s wrong?” or “What happened?” and it irritates the shit out of me when the person at the other end insists on going through, “Hello.” “How are you?” “What are you doing?” before they will tell me why they are calling.

    To say I am a worrier is something of an understatement.

    My mother and her husband like to backpack. They like to go deep into the wilderness away from all people. I understand the being away from people part, but I like to do that with a moat and razor wire. I do not like to leave air conditioning, indoor plumbing or internet behind. In fact I hate it. They we an backpacked in Alaska for their honeymoon, carrying enough for one week and having a plan drop stuff out of it at a specific point for week two. My little sister grew up doing that sort of thing with them.

    Every summer they go off for a few weeks. The entire time they are gone I SEE all the bad that could befall them. I await anxiously for their return, or worse yet, their lack of return.

    This year they invited our daughter to go with them. *shudder* Now, it isn’t that I NEVER let her out of my sight, but being out of range of speaking to me, or of 911 for several days in a row… That is not easy on me. However, life is not about being easy on me. I do not choose to let her do just anything that comes up, but I also work to not let my beyond worrier status keep her from experiencing things which will be enriching for her.

    This year she went with them. Visions of fires and bears and horrible rashes and injured backs and rattlesnake bites danced in my head.

    And it has been horrible. She went with only my sister and my mother’s husband. My mother stayed this time for reasons which are a very long story. This made it even more difficult, because my mother is the one that am more confident will be aware of the little safety details. This has left me with even less peace of mind.

    More than that though, having her gone, out of even telephone reach, feels like an appendage missing. I rarely have the “yay no kid!” feeling for more than an hour or two. Having her gone feels a lot like how I imagine losing an appendage feels. It is a HUGE gap in my life, and there is that sense of a phantom limb to deal with too. She may drive me fucking batty but she is so dear to me. When we are not at each others throats, we understand each other very well. I am doing my best to raise her to be independent, and I damn well expect her to move out and leave and start her own life and not be with me all the time. That is for the future. Right now? Right now I like to touch base with her regularly. That is what is comfortable to me. That is what feels natural.

    It isn’t only me. The night before she left, I could not peel her off of me. She was snuggled close, not wanting to go. Wanting the trip, but not wanting the distance.

    So she left on a Monday, due back on Tuesday the following week. The original plan had been to stay out until Wednesday, but while I was comfortable letting her be gone for my birthday, I did not want her gone for her father’s milestone birthday. Out of range for just over a week.

    Tonight, just a bit ago, the phone rang and the caller ID was one of their cell phones, and my heart STOPPED.

    However, they are okay. The heat chased them out early. Nobody is hurt. Well, I think perhaps my daughter has been irreparably damaged, because she said “Oh my god, Denny’s is THE MOST AMAZING PLACE ON EARTH!” I hope that is temporary delirium from too much heat, days of eating out of foil packets, and not having a toilet to sit on for a week.

    So, now I am sitting here on the sofa typing this and waiting for my (no doubt truly amazingly smelly) daughter to return home. She will be here for my birthday. Of course, this means our reservations for 3 are now fucked, because there will be six of us, and I need to make other plans. I don’t care though. I mean, I don’t care about losing out on the dinner. Making new plans does cause some stress, but that is my normal state.

    Soon she will be home, where she belongs, pissing me off as easily as she breathes, as she should be.

  • Self Defined

    Main Entry: mul·ti·task·ing

    1 : failing to accomplish several tasks, all at the same time

  • tarnish

    Things I like about the internet:

    • shopping online, without having to deal with people
    • quick access to information without having to speak to people
    • anything that lets me accomplish something without having to leave my house or deal with people
    • meeting new people who do not suck, that I would have never stumbled across if I was hiding in my house without access to the internet
    • being able to interact quickly with people, without using the phone, no matter where they live

    Things I hate about the internet:

    • the vast majority of the people
  • A Proclamation

    An anniversary of sorts.

    On September 13th, 2001 The White House issued a proclamation –National Day of Prayer and Remembrance for the Victims Of the Terrorist Attacks on September 11, 2001.

    On that day, things changed for me.

    I was born an atheist, and although my family tried to change that, it didn’t work. I have spent a great many hours in church, and even enjoyed a considerable amount of the time spent there, but there was never belief. When the Christian monotheistic concept of their god, and all that entailed was clearly never going to click for me, I looked at all the other possibilities and eventually came to the conclusion that I was [filled in completely with indelible ink] choice Z) none of the above. However, this was not something I spoke about. When pushed into a situation where it really made sense to answer, I would try to answer something as neutral as possible. It was not that I was embarrassed about being an atheist, I just didn’t see it as a decent topic of public discourse.

    By neutral, I mean that I would typically state that I do not practice a religion (definitely true) and also that I am agnostic (also true). Many people seem to think of agnostic as the middle ground between theist and atheist. I did not, and do not, view it that way. I consider it a position on knowledge, not a position on deities. However I let them see it through their eyes and be more comfortable about it. Not because I wanted them to feel more comfortable, but because I wanted them to be comfortable enough to shut up so we could move on to a more interesting topic.

    I consider religion to be a private and personal matter. I don’t want to hear about the beliefs of other people, much less have them pushed upon me, and I want to keep my own private thoughts and business my own private thoughts and business.

    For instance, I am about to write something that I do not believe I have ever said or written before.

    I am not a lesbian.

    Now, I think a great many people already assumed I was likely not a lesbian. I am married to a man. We have a daughter together. These are little aspects of my life that do put out into the public realm that there is a plausible likelihood that I am not a lesbian. However, I basically consider this to be a private matter and none of the business or concern of the majority of the population. This is something that should matter to an extremely small number of individuals. I am not embarrassed that I am not a lesbian. I am not proud that I am not a lesbian. I just simply am not a lesbian. I find it to be on the tacky side to be bringing up this fact in public. However, it is relevant to my feelings about being an atheist. It wasn’t a secret, it just wasn’t something I saw as being a subject up for general discussion.

    There are so many things on this planet that I find more interesting to discuss with people than religion or sexual orientation. While my sexual orientation, life style, political beliefs, thoughts on religion, and many other things do play a part in what I do, and how I do them, I find the actual things that I do to be the more worthwhile topic.

    It was a quick change. In less than a week I went from always trying to avoid the discussion, and giving a very neutral response, to just flat out stating that I was, am, and always will be, an atheist. My personal feelings about such discussions haven’t changed. I still would prefer it to be a private matter, and I don’t go out of my way to bring it up. I am going against my own gut instinct every time I say it, but I say it. I decided that my own personal comfort level was less important than the need to just say “Hi. We are here.” I still hope people find pretty much anything else about me more interesting.

    There were other things, within my family that also changed in that short stretch of time, but I do not feel those are my stories to tell.

    I am including a letter that I sent to essentially all my government officials on September 14th, 2001. (Of course, I desperately want to rewrite it now, ugh I HATE rereading what I have written, it can always be improved! It was written quickly and I was upset.)

    Why couldn’t we have a National Day of Mourning? As heart breaking as the events of Tuesday were, I find myself even further emotionally devastated by the President of the United States telling me once again, that I do not count, that I am not a real American. He had to declare it a National Day of Prayer, despite the fact that, more than ever, the United States of America needs to be UNITED. There is not a single Webster’s definition of prayer that does not include mention of some god or religion. Not every citizen of the United States has a god, gods, goddesses or religion. Labeled, by ourselves, and others, in a variety of ways, including atheists, infidels, freethinkers, humanists, and skeptics. We aren’t united under a single name, for reasons just as varied, but including a belief in individual rights and responsibilities, and the fact many of us consider it to be one of the least interesting aspects of our life.

    On a National Day of Mourning, those who do believe in such things, could attend services, it wouldn’t have changed that. The President and former presidents could still have attended such a service, he wouldn’t have to hide that he personally finds comfort in prayer. The only difference is the rest of us would be included and acknowledged, and I don’t know how much that inclusion would have hurt him personally, but it would have made me feel immeasurably better. Asking people to “attend religious services of their choosing on their lunch hour” just tells us that even at this time of tragedy, even as a representative of our own country, President George W. Bush, gives the politically correct lip service to religious tolerance, but for those without religious belief he cannot open his heart and arms to include us just a little bit. Directing everyone to pray is thoughtless, inappropriate, hurtful and divisive. Yet few people will challenge this unconstitutional act, because we are a group that so many find it absolutely acceptable discriminate against. Because of this, our government should be working all the harder to protect us from discrimination, rather than participating and even promoting it. Yet this is the second Day of Prayer that he has forced upon us.

    Does he think that only those with religion can feel sadness? That only those with religion think life is precious? Does anyone not grasp just how precious we think lives are? We do not believe in heaven, or any kind of afterlife or eternal reward. We do not believe in reincarnation, nor that we continue on in another dimension, on another planet, or become one with the cosmos. We believe this life is what we have. We value life fervently because of this. We can take no comfort from thoughts that the victims are in a better place; we believe they were robbed of the thing that matters, life. We do not have the solace of believing that one day we will be with our lost friends and loved ones again. Of course we are grieving. We are grieving deeply.

    He shuts us out and turns his back on us even as he remembers a tragedy that would have been far less likely to happen if not for the religious beliefs of the terrorists. I do not blame the religion, I blame the individuals, but let’s be realistic, their belief that they would be rewarded for this act in the next life, did not make it more difficult for them to commit the act. With his constant “God is on our side” wording, is he hoping to whip this country up into a holy war? Have we learned nothing from a history full of deaths on such crusades?

    I weep at the recorded images of those planes crashing into those buildings, and believe me, I am not weeping for the loss of a bunch of metal, concrete, glass and wiring. I am not weeping for the financial damage. It is the loss of the lives inside that I mourn so deeply. I shudder when thinking of the people who had extended periods of terror to live through before being brought to a hideous end by events beyond their control. I am heartened by the evidence that some of the individuals on flight 93 were able to at least take some control of their lives back and save countless other lives even though still tragically unable to save their own. I weep again at the images of young children in another country waving flags and celebrating this blow to our country.

    I seek comfort in the prospect of tomorrow, in the laughter of children, in seeing the red white and blue being displayed around my city. I am glad to drive past a local mosque and not see protesters lined up outside. I am proud to see people of varying political backgrounds uniting because they are all proud citizens of the United States of America, proud that they are fully allowed to have varying political backgrounds.

    My friends and I argue over whether our military should just start bombing people without finalized proof, what proof is enough proof, whether those behind it should be publicly executed, whether those who say “it wasn’t me but you deserved it” should be bombed too, whether there should be a trial and imprisonment not execution, whether we should be doing our best to avoid any further loss of life, even the lives of those responsible. We worry about the implications for the future of individual freedom, and argue over the cost of real safety, or whether such a thing is even possible. We worry about how to keep the wrong people from getting training at facilities in our own country, without making judgments based on the way someone looks, their names, accents and religions. We are horrified by the idea of more terrorist incidents, and also terrified that such concerns could lead to things like Manzanar. We frantically called friends and relatives. We hold our loved ones close. We try to reassure our children. We just don’t pray, or turn to any kind of religious leader for support or comfort. Does that really discount every other contribution we make to our community and country?

    Statistics being what they are, some of the victims of this tragedy also had no gods or religion, and no want for prayer on their behalf. Can the President of the United States and all the other countless politicians making statements and singing songs not find enough room in their hearts to just give those victims a little acknowledgment and respect even now. I don’t begrudge anyone his or her comfort in prayer. I am not asking them to consider the idea that we might be right, just consider that we are citizens of this country and are part of humanity. As a Christian, President Bush already firmly believes we will suffer in the next life. Is it really so important that he make us suffer in this one? Are we to tell our children that they can grow up to be anything they want to be, but only those with proper views on religious matters can be full-fledged citizens of the United States of America?

    Today I am in mourning, for the victims and their family and friends. I am in mourning for all the people in the world who feel a little less safe today. I am also in mourning because this country, which I love so dearly, thinks so poorly of me.

    So that’s it. Because of a proclamation by George W. Bush, I now state loudly and clearly:

    I am an atheist. I am many other things, but I am also, absolutely, an atheist. That, is my proclamation.