Happy New Year – Seriously.

I suppose, as a blogger, I have an obligation to reflect on the passing of 2016, huh? Even as a blogger who’s truant and doesn’t blog nearly enough? Okay. Whatever.

Way too much loss this year. Not just celebrities, though waaaaay too many good ones left us this year. I already posted about my two roughest: David Bowie & Alan Rickman. But many others affected me a lot, too. Garry Shandling in March. Prince in April. Ali in June. Gene Wilder in August. Joseph Mascolo (Stefano from DOOL) in December. And of course, George Michael, Carrie Fisher & Debbie Reynolds a few days ago. But, my God. David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Prince, Gene Wilder, & Carrie Fisher in the same year? It’s too many formative people. It hurts.

But beyond the celebrities – there have been horrifyingly painful losses for people I know as well. A friend from high school and his family lost their 15 year old daughter this year in a horrible murder/suicide. Our whole community came together for them as they dealt with the aftermath and attempted to regain their lives.

Then there’s all the social issues – Black Lives Matter, Standing Rock, Syrian refugees, gun violence, women’s issues, convicted rapists getting very little punishment, ISIS and backlash against Muslim people. Hatred, racism, sexism, misogyny, violence against minorities (especially blacks), xenophobia, and just plain hate. The uprising of hate and the violence it creates has been overwhelming this year, it feels. Like a rising flood that is quickly becoming deadly.

And then there’s Trump. Cheeto Hitler, Mango Mussolini, the Bloviating Yam, the Toddler Tyrant, Huffy Wee Fucking Bampot. The reality of his election is truly an offshoot of the previous paragraph. Yes, there are those who voted for him due to some mistaken belief in his business acumen or that he would somehow care about middle and lower class Americans and would make their lives better. Who just knew that they were struggling and thought and “outsider” might improve things. But most of them, I believe truly had hatred in their hearts for the groups that Trump spent his campaign insulting & maligning. His disparaging and false remarks about so many different groups of people (and individuals) gave permission to “let it out.” To freely express hatred toward people – telling them to “go back where they came from” or using racist epithets against them. And never ONCE did Trump try to stop it. He fueled it, egged it on, and took no responsibility for unleashing it. I honestly cannot believe this man is going to be our president. That so many people okayed racism, sexism, misogyny, ableism, xenophobia, and blatant hate by looking past example after example, incident after incident and failing to call any of it a dealbreaker. There were dozens of opportunities. Mocking the disabled. “We’re gonna build a wall.” The “grab ’em by the pussy” video. Denying climate change as a Chinese plot. Becoming Putin’s best friend and basically riding shirtless on a bear with him. Telling lie after outright, provable lie and then denying he ever said it – as if we DIDN’T HAVE THE VIDEO.

But all these people ignored it. As Edmund Burke said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” And that’s exactly what so many did. Evil was shoved in their faces – their noses were RUBBED in it. Yet they ignored it. They were blind to it. And by ignoring it, by overlooking it, by turned a blind eye – every single one of them ENDORSED AND CONDONED it. Because evil acts and evil words and evil behavior was ignored, we now face a nation that says it’s okay to treat minorities like they don’t belong here. It’s okay to treat women like objects and then call them ugly & fat if they dare disagree with you. It’s okay to refuse to treat LGBTQ+ people like actual people and deny them rights because you think it’s icky and wrong. It’s okay to reward rich, white men for being rich and white and having a penis. It’s okay to threaten people if they disagree with you. It’s okay to try to shut down the media if they report on you accurately instead of talking about how awesome you are. It’s okay for the LEADER OF THE FREE WORLD to spend his time on Twitter, insulting and tearing down and bullying people. It’s acceptable for our country’s president to side with Russia’s leader over our own citizens. It’s okay to call the citizens of the country you’re in charge of “enemies” simply because they disagree with your policies, stances, rhetoric, behavior, and inability to do the job. It’s okay to just spurt out whatever you’re thinking about whatever is happening – even if it might risk national security or relations with foreign powers. WHAT. THE. BLOODY. BLEEDING. HELL. IS. HAPPENING.

So, I’m unhappy with Trump – perhaps you are insightful and read into my thoughts there. The past 6 months, especially, have been absolutely traumatic and hard for me to deal with in terms of these issues. It’s so visceral and emotional that I have a hard time finding words about it most of the time. I feel like Madeline Kahn as Mrs. White in Clue as I try to explain what’s going on inside of me.

So I end up letting it out in little bursts here and there on Facebook & Twitter.

It hasn’t been all bad, though. I found some pockets of happiness and excitement this year. Getting to revisit my role as the Narrator in Joseph at the Opera House – 30 years later!! – was definitely a highlight. Working past my own self-doubt and fear and finding that I can still do something I love. Gigging with the band I’m in has been a blast! I’m getting to sing all the stuff I’ve always wanted to and just rock the hell out of it. I’ll tell you – speaking up to my friend, Kathy, and telling her to keep me in mind if they needed another vocalist was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done. Just taking that tiny step out of my comfort zone and putting myself out there made it possible for me to start singing again and having SO. MUCH. FUN. And doing that let me share video of our band which led Joseph’s director to see it and reach out to me (actually chastisting me for not auditioning for Joseph because I thought “who wants to see this fat-assed old broad up on stage?) and then when the Narrator he’d cast couldn’t do a matinee because she had another show to do, he called me right away and asked me to step in for that performance! So one tiny risk back in October of 2015 created opportunities which allowed me to do something that I DREAMED of doing. And may lead me to step out and try auditioning for other shows in the future. (9 to 5? I’m looking at you)

This year also brought growth and improvement for both my younger sons. William still struggles at school with behavior and anger management, but he’s consistently improving. It’s slow, but it’s there. And Henry – while there still are significant and huge delays, we can see growth in him as well. We can see him becoming a teenager (AUGH.) We’re seeing him wanting to do new things and relearning how to do things with & for him that allow him to grow into new skills. He’s trying to tell jokes. He’s starting to recognize when he’s in need of a diaper change. He’s starting to feed himself at home. He’s doing small chores. They’re small things, but they’re happening.

This year hasn’t been perfect and hasn’t been an extinction event. I’ve made mistakes this year – small ones, big ones, and even devastating ones. (No, I’m not going to detail them for you, nosy parker) But I’m literally praying that nothing I’ve messed up this year can’t be recovered from. Because when it comes down to it, I’m way more blessed than I deserve. Or even often recognize. I have a great family.  I am truly blessed to have the family I do and I’m going to strive to show them all how very thankful I am all through 2017. While I often find myself whining too much, frustrated too much, and unhappy too much; I will make a concerted effort to follow my grandmother’s advice and realize that happiness is not a destination. Happiness is a CHOICE.
To Steve, Maggie, Steven, Henry, William, and my parents: you are my treasures of great value. I love you more than I can say and I thank you for forgiving me when I mess up, reminding me of what’s important, and loving me even when I’m a mess. I pray that 2017 will be the year that I grow more patience, that I’m slower to frustration, that I react with love, grace, and kindness more often than not, and that those I love will see in me a new heart that glows with the light of how very, very much I love them.


“Sometimes I Worry A Lot…”

It’s been a crapfest of a year, really. I honestly cannot find much for which to recommend 2016. So don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out, buddy.

Lately, I’ve been escaping a lot by listening to books via Audible.com. I realized I had somehow gathered like 10 credits and after listening to Max Brooks on the Nerdist podcast, I decided to listen to World War Z on audio. I liked the idea of many different narrators and it’s one of my favorite books, so I checked it out. And my only complaint was that it wasn’t long enough.

Then I started checking out some Stephen King. “The Stand,” I figured, would last a while. “Skeleton Crew” would be good. And, of course, “It.”

(Author’s Note: Boy, try finding a photo to use that represents “It” without a damn clown in it. Sheesh.)

I remember when “It” first came out. I got it almost immediately and CONSUMED it. It was fascinating to me – so honest and true. Even though I wasn’t a child in 1958, childhood in the 70s and very early 80s was similar in that there was a lot of running free, playing all day outside, imaginative exploration, and that nebulous connective thread between late childhood and early teenager that you could almost grab a hold of, but not really. So reading about the day-to-day childhood experience of Bill, Ben, Bev, Eddie, Stan, Richie, & Mike wasn’t too far away for me to understand. I devoured that book. Of course, clowns have, to my recollection, always been a source of terror for me. There was abuse in my childhood – though not nearly on the scale Bev experienced. I could never really put my finger on what it was about that story that connected so deeply with me. I didn’t just feel it – it was like I was reading a transcript from an alternate universe version of myself. It’s actually one of the few of his books that I’ve read over and over again.

When I read it for the 2nd time, I was in college. I still had the same paperback copy, but by now the binding was broken and it was starting to fall apart. It’s hard to have a paperback version of a book that big – it just doesn’t want to stay together. I had already read it – and not that long ago – but I couldn’t remember it. I remembered the general story and could give a synopsis, but there were important details I had simply forgotten. There were sections that I’d lost altogether. And I honestly couldn’t remember how the climax played out. Which was really strange to me because I’ve always been good with holding on to the books I’ve read. I can still remember the night I started getting into the climax of the book (probably the last 1/3 or so). I found myself unable to put the book down and go to sleep, even though I had class the next day. I was alone in my room, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, reading and reading and reading – almost furiously – because I DIDN’T REMEMBER ANY OF THIS and I was not only freaked out by the book, I was kind of freaked out by that fact. Every time I’d get to certain points/details/phrases that were important and should have been memorable, that point/detail/phrase would shoot me in the gut and it was as if I was pulling out a long-forgotten memory from my own childhood that was really important and MEANT SOMETHING OMG. I’d gasp audibly as it came flooding back.

Then I’d finish the book and put it away and forget about it. I watched the AWFUL TV miniseries in 1990 that didn’t even begin to truly capture the story and while Tim Curry did an awesome job, it just became almost a joke to me because in my mind this story was almost epic in its terror and importance and affect. It was as if this story meant something more than just a good horror fiction – it held some secret or truth or something that I couldn’t identify.

I think I read it again as an adult, but I can’t remember for sure. (This is a theme.) But then I got in at Audible and have been listening to it. And the same thing has happened. I didn’t remember. Just like the characters in the book, who as adults couldn’t remember anything from their childhood until certain events triggered long-repressed memory, I couldn’t remember this story. I could have told you there’s a clown in it. Couldn’t have told you the characters’ names. Could have told you where it was set. Couldn’t have told you anything beyond a very skeletal synopsis of the story. But as I listened, I remembered. And just like the characters in the book, it came back a bit at a time, in fits & starts, and those same points/details/phrases from before still slammed into me causing audible gasps of “OMG, that MEANS something more…” as I listened.

I had forgotten about Tom. Completely. The entire storyline. From the beginning of that relationship and how it began right through the end. Had you asked me about it, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. The honest brutality of the scene when Bev gets the phone call and when he visits her friend, Kay. As I listened to those scenes, I was truly taken aback by the truthfulness of it. It made me think, “This is a perfect description and example of the fear that women live with. That someday, some man will present her with this and death and staying alive will be laid before her – and she may not be able to choose.” It swallowed me up – especially now as so many women are trying desperately to hang on to the strides that have been made and trying to get the world to understand the fear innate in the everyday of being a woman. The idea that most men say the biggest fear they have from women is being laughed at, while most women say the biggest fear they have from men is being killed.

I forgot about The Black Spot and the Kitchener Ironworks and The Ritual of Chud and the deadlights and “he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.” That last one, as a matter of fact, I have trouble actually saying or typing because something inside me feels like it’s a spell or a summoning and something will happen if I do. I forgot about Paul Bunyan and Mrs. Kersh and the abandoned refrigerator and Patrick Hofstetter and how they got out of the sewer in 1958. It blows my mind.

But then there’s this – that I actually transcribed because as I listened to it, the tears just started running out of my eyes. Full force. Not an ugly cry, but just rivers of tears.

“Beverly made her way over to them, still holding her blouse closed. Her cheeks were bright red. The clubhouse? Bill nodded.

‘Could I have someone’s shirt?’ Beverly asked, blushing more furiously than ever. Bill glanced down at her and the blood came into his own face all in a rush. He turned his eyes away hastily, but in that instant, Ben felt a rush of knowledge and dismal jealousy. In that instant, that one bare second, Bill had become aware of her in a way that only Ben himself had been before.

Beverly threw her head up, shaking her tangled hair back behind her. She was still blushing, but her face was lovely.

‘I can’t help it that I’m a girl,’ she said. ‘Or that I’m starting to get big on top. Now can’t I please have someone’s shirt?!?’
‘Sh-sure,’ Bill said. He pulled his white t-shirt over his head. ‘H-h-here,’ he said.
‘Thank you, Bill,’ she said and for one hot, smoking moment, their eyes locked directly. Bill did not look away this time. His gaze was firm, adult.
‘W-w-w-welcome,’ he said.

‘Good luck, Big Bill,’ Ben thought, and he turned away from that gaze. It was hurting him.

Hurting him in a deeper place than any vampire or werewolf would ever be able to reach. But all the same, there was such a thing as propriety. The word he didn’t know; the concept was very clear. Looking at them while they were looking at each other that way would be as wrong as looking at her when she turned her back to pull Bill’s shirt over her head.

‘If that’s the way it is… but you’ll never love her like I do. Never.'” – Stephen King, “It”

Still guts me and leaves me bleeding. And makes me think of so many times in my own life where that realization washed over me and the hurt was like being gut shot. But…propriety.

There’s something about this for me. I don’t know if I identify so strongly because I also don’t remember a vast majority of my childhood. I don’t know if those large missing chunks make me feel more connected to this story somehow. But I know it’s really weird. There’s something almost mystical about it for me and I have never, not in 30 years, been able to put my finger on it.

I just…….wonder.





trump_misogynyI don’t even know what to say, where to start, or how to communicate on feelings that have already been expressed myriad times by myriad people. It’s like walking through a thick, viscous fog that is filled with hands that keep slapping you in the face. I’m just……demoralized.

Before I go any further, let me say something. This blog post is about MY feelings on all this. MY experiences, MY outlook, MY insights, working through MY issues. If, while you read this, you feel the need to tell me any of the following:

  • “Calm down, you’re overreacting.”
  • “We need to stop blaming and start uniting.”
  • “God has it all under control, stop worrying.”
  • “Let’s wait and give it a chance…”
  • “But she……..”

may I respectfully and kindly ask that you just DON’T. If you honestly think I (and millions of others) haven’t heard that or some variation thereof about 85,632,840,574,398 times, you’d be mistaken. I don’t need that or want that. Please and thank you very much.

Like many others, I found myself aghast, despondent, frustrated, angry, surprised, and simply FLOORED by the election. I should have known better. Really, I should have. But I honestly, completely believed that we all were better than this. That we had come further as human beings. That such extreme and blatant vitriolic hatred was a deal breaker for everyone. But like the SNL sketch when Dave Chappelle hosted, what a vast percentage of our country already knew was flayed open and served on a steaming, rancid pile for the rest of us to realize. I knew there were racists. But I didn’t think there were this many or that there were this many people willing to overlook racism. I knew there were misogynists, but I didn’t know so many women were willing to ignore that. I knew there were stupid, gullible people, but I am shocked by how many were willing to believe the flat-out lies being fed them – even when those lies were pointed out daily. I didn’t know and I refused to believe it. I thought “good will out,” as we’re taught.

Now, I’m not a minority, so I cannot speak about being a minority in our country – the way race issues affect people of color. I know what stories I hear, but I do not know it firsthand, therefore I won’t speak on it. I’ll leave that to someone better suited.

Neither am I an immigrant (at least not a 1st or 2nd generation immigrant), so even though I know & am friends with immigrants and hear their stories and their fears, it is not mine to discuss. So many others can do it better and more authentically.

I’m also not a Muslim or a Buddhist or a Hindu or a Jew. I know nothing but anecdotes concerning what they face on a daily basis in terms of struggle, oppression, hatred, or bigotry. I could speak on the surface of their issues, but I won’t. Those are their stories and I won’t co-opt them.

I’m not LGBTQ+ either. I know and love a whole lot of them and I will hold them close and fight with them. But I cannot speak for them.

But here’s what I am. I am a woman. Not only a woman – I am an abuse survivor. I am a sexual assault victim. And, horror of horrors in the eyes of our new administration, I am not a woman that has any place or worth in his eyes. I am fat. I am past middle age. I am not hot. In fact, I’m a woman that if he had assaulted me and I called him on it, his response would be, “Look at her. I wouldn’t waste my time with that. She’s a 4 at best.”

It is my status as a female assault victim/abuse survivor in the face of the past 1.5 years of this man’s candidacy that has me feeling this way. Not even INCLUDING the fact that since his election win, men around the country have decided that his win means open season on treating women like THINGS that they get to have, to touch, to grab, to assault at will. My feelings don’t even take that into account. Here’s what they do.

I, and many, many, many other abuse/assault survivors, sat and listened over and over again to this man talk in a demeaning manner about women. Dismiss women. Laugh at women. And, finally, reveal that he feels he has the right to do whatever he wants to them. Whenever he wants. We listened as our memories were triggered. As all the old feelings came rushing back. Statements and remarks that should have immediately eliminated him from any consideration as president were downplayed and minimized and, instead, when actual women came forward and said, “Yeah, this is who he is because he did it to me,” they were discounted. He threatened to SUE them. People defended him and his ACTIONS (not his words) as “locker room talk” and said it wasn’t a big deal. And, slowly, we began to realize that the safety we thought we might have found is actually nonexistent.

If you aren’t an abuse victim or an assault victim, you can’t possibly understand what it feels like to hear these things. To be told that something this man did – which might be similar or close to what happened to you – is nothing. To realize that even though you thought progress had been made, that our society had made steps forward, and that this kind of bullshit wasn’t tolerated anymore – that was a lie. It’s a kind of PTSD to hear someone running for the highest office in the land saying these things. You feel unsafe, threatened, powerless – AGAIN. And you panic.

For me, add to that the war I’ve been waging with myself for the past several decades. I have spent my whole life feeling that my worth as a woman is based on a few simple things. Am I attractive enough? Am I skinny enough? Am I hot enough? Do men want me? I have, for the most part, always answered those questions with a resounding NO. No matter how skinny or gorgeous or fabulous or sexy I was, it wasn’t enough. And if there wasn’t a man who wanted to have sex with me? I was worth nothing. I have fought tooth and nail for 30 years or so to put that outdated, bullshit standard out to pasture. Trying to reprogram and teach myself that my looks don’t matter – it’s who am I inside. It’s my heart and my talents and what I do for others and the passion I bring to the things I love. That the social construct of “female” I’ve been presented with all my life is a lie. I have worked my ass off trying to get myself there. Some days I do pretty well and some days I want to kill myself. But I keep trying because I saw and believed that being Ruth Bader Ginsburg is a more worthy goal than being simply a hot body. (No, I won’t name a famous hot woman because I won’t make another woman smaller in order to make myself feel bigger)

It is literally physically painful to realize that nearly half of the voting populace were willing to look past the vile words and actions, were willing to look past the misogyny, were willing to look past “grab ’em by the pussy,” were willing to forgo basic Christian beliefs, were willing to ignore the rights & well being of themselves and women they love. That even though they themselves might not be racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, etc., that they were willing to overlook that in order to ensure…..what, exactly? What did he promise them that was so enticing that they could overlook all of that??

We have allowed someone who has shown himself over and over again to be a bully, a known sexual predator, a liar, a rule-breaker, a con man, unstable (crazed tweets??), and not in control of his faculties to be exalted to the highest office in the land. He doesn’t admit when he’s wrong. He doesn’t apologize when he’s been horrible (but expects others to apologize when they’ve done nothing wrong), he claims one thing and then the opposite when it suits him. It’s not that he won’t TAKE no for an answer, he won’t even HEAR it. He demands constant attention like a toddler.

The triggers and the buttons that have been callously pushed by this man are painful. To watch him stalk and try to physically intimidate Hillary during the debates was, for many, like watching and waiting for an attack to begin – an attack they’ve seen and experienced before. To hear him discuss groping & grabbing women in the most violative way was, for many, like reliving their own assault and the aftermath thereof. To hear him dismiss women’s accusations against him as lies and publicity grabs was, for many, like having to relive the pain and shame of reporting their own assault and having it minimized or dismissed. To hear him insult and demean women – breaking them down into nothing more than parts meant to create pleasure for him – was, for many, like every comment, every insult, every catcall, every “nice tits,” every single step that we as women have fought and bled for since the beginning of time being taken back from us. It was being forced to go back to the days where all that mattered was the size of our bra in relation to waist & hip measurements and that we’d better shut the fuck up and get back in the kitchen. And for those of us who aren’t more than a 6 on Donnie’s scale, we have been irrevocably handed our worth. We are all Rosie O’Donnell or Arianna Huffington or Bette Midler or any of the many, many women he has insulted by calling “fat pig,” “dog,” “not hot,” or whatever. As far as he’s concerned, we don’t matter. Which is what many of us thought about ourselves all along. It’s just now we have a President to remind us.

So. I’m sad. I’m depressed. I feel empty inside. Because it is now accepted that who I am is only meaningful in terms of my looks. And as I’ve been told, I don’t have to worry about anyone grabbing me “by the pussy” or being raped or assaulted (again) because I’m not attractive enough. I have nothing to worry about. So I’ll just sit here in my fat cave and try not to offend the President’s sensibilities.


Stop. Just STOP.

635922841696028851596381600_no_excuses_sexual_assault_campaign_logoTo those of you who want to dismiss Mr. Trump’s comments and, WAY MORE IMPORTANTLY, the misogynistic & illegal ACTIONS he was referring to, I ask you this.

Imagine, if you will, that this video that surfaced starred not Mr. Trump, but someone like your child’s teacher or a local pastor or a community leader or a youth sports coach or a local shopowner. Someone you might be acquainted with or have dealings with in your community.

How would you react?

  • If your daughter’s soccer coach was caught bragging about sexually assaulting random women because HE CAN.
  • If the pastor of a local church was caught boasting about how he can fondle or grope parishioners because he’s “in charge?”
  • If a teacher at a local school was revealed to have had “locker room talk” with friends where he bragged about getting a touch or a feel here & there from hiz students because “what are they going to do?”

Would you shrug and say “Boys will be boys?” Would you try to dismiss it, saying that the real issues of sportsmanship/serving God/education were being overshadowed? Would you continue to allow your child to be on that team/be a member of that church/allow that teacher to go on teaching?

We all remember that many of these people trying to dismiss or defend Trump’s actions & words (or, just as bad, throwing around the other candidate’s husband’s actions as if we live by a “well, HE did it, so it’s okay” kind of credo) are the same people who completely lost it over the idea of transpeople wanting to use the bathrooms of their gender. That the THOUGHT of some biker in a dress using trans-friendly bathrooms as a way to fondle women and children was beyond unacceptable and must be stopped AT ALL COST. But the idea of electing as President someone who not only does grope and fondle whenever he wants to because he’s “a celebrity” and therefore “gets to” is okay?

I find it REPREHENSIBLE that this man has been caught red handed bragging about doing what other men lose their jobs/families/lives over and ANYONE has the audacity to say it’s no big deal. You think what Clinton did in the White House was horrifying? If you elect this man, you ain’t seen NOTHING yet.

When the HELL are we going to get to the point where these Neanderthals finally accept that women are people and not possessions, prizes, trophies, or inanimate objects whose very existence is only for the pleasure and edification of men? Our bodies are not for you to touch or fondle or comment on. Believe it or not, OUR BODIES HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU.

Oh, and also? If you are a man who still supports him and you have any women in your life that you love and respect? You should be ashamed of yourself. It is THAT simple. If you are a woman who still supports him? I honestly don’t know what to say. Because it’s sad to me that you don’t think you’re better than that.


sexual-assault-definition-487x100-2xDo you know that it took me 45 years to understand this? To understand that just because someone wants to touch my body or kiss me or do anything else to me doesn’t mean they get to? Do you have any freaking idea how much unwanted touching I endured because I didn’t know that? Do you know how many women have gone through their lives facing this shit, too? It’s disgusting that so many of us don’t understand this. It’s repulsive that so many women have to endure this every day. It’s repugnant that there are ANY HUMANS out there who think this is okay. Your body is yours. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY gets to touch it without your consent. Not your family, not your husband, not your coworkers, not your boss, not your bus driver, not your barista, not your CEO, not your teacher, not your boyfriend, not the most popular boy in school, NO ONE. You have the right to say no. The fact that a candidate for President of the US not only doesn’t understand this, but is callously dismissive of it should TERRIFY you. I’m simply confused and blown away that this is a discussion that still needs to be had.

I will finish by summing up. You don’t get to do whatever the fuck you want because you’re a celebrity. Other people’s bodies are not yours to come in contact with unless you’re given permission. And if something is wrong, it’s wrong for everybody. If you’d try to drive a teacher out of town for groping, you’d better be trying to drive a Presidential candidate out as well. Oh, and STOP TOUCHING WOMEN WITHOUT PERMISSION.


What Even Is Happening…

glitch-in-the-matrix-catsWhat a crummy summer. We ended up doing nothing fun because of my stupid knee.

I got my surgery, so hopefully it will improve. The surgery went well. But since the surgery – well, it’s just weird. Yes, it still hurts, but it’s only been 12 days. But immediately after the surgery my calf muscle just locked up. You know that horrible pain you get when you have a Charlie horse? Then afterwards, how the muscle sits there like a tight, angry fist in your leg? Yeah. It was like that for …. well, actually it’s just now feeling better. Next was the horrible gastrointestinal holocaust. Now I don’t know if I caught some virus or if the IV antibiotics they gave me completely killed every bacteria in my intestines, but I got hit with Biblical-level diarrhea. For over 24 hours. Sharp & cutting, boiling hot and violent as hell. I actually sat there crying & trying not to scream. It’s better, but there’s still something not right. I’m eating bananas & yogurt, taking probiotics and it’s still kind of weak. Plus I’m dehydrated. Yesterday I drank 2 liters of coconut water and 2 liters of Bai water and still have dehydration symptoms.

Speaking of which, something else weird has happened since my surgery. I don’t know if it’s the dehydration or the anesthesia, but I haven’t felt right since then. I feel disoriented. Disjointed. Like I’m not myself. As if all of me went under the anesthesia, but only part of me came back. I can almost feel a glitch in the Matrix. Like I’m going to turn around and see myself behind me. It’s crazy weird. I just wanna feel like myself again.

Everybody’s back in school. Maggie went back on the 10th. Early because she was starting rehearsals for the musical she’s in at Bradley. It’s called “Mr Burns: A Post-Electric Play“. I believe she plays Colleen – not 100% sure, though. She lived in the dorm for 4 days before she was allowed to move into her sorority house. She’s got that show and recruitment and classes – super busy. Steven started his sophomore year and he likes it so far. Honors Chem, Grammar/Comp, & Algebra 2 as well as Driver’s Ed, World History, Graphic Occupations, & German. Seems to be a very full schedule. I think he can handle it.

Henry is in 7th grade. What the blazes?? He’s quite happy to be back at school. He loves it there. He’s a rock star, everyone loves him, and he knows it. William’s started 2nd grade. He’s got a new teacher and I’ve got my fingers crossed that this year will start turning around for him. In this new class, he’s one of the older kids, so I think it might be good for him. I’ve been telling him that it’s important that he set a good example for the younger kids & help guide them in how things work. He seems to take pride in that idea.

I’ll leave you with some pictures from 1st day of school. Because that’s what I do.

William is PSYCHED!

William is PSYCHED!

Henry posing with Ms. Hong while singing "Something's Got a Hold on Me"

Henry posing with Ms. Hong while singing “Something’s Got a Hold on Me”

Saying hi to the PE teachers

Saying hi to the PE teachers

Walking into school. Can't believe he's a 7th grader!

Walking into school. Can’t believe he’s a 7th grader!