A for Absolute Madness!

Let the madness begin!!!

This past weekend, MusicMan and I both got the obligatory Christmas plan emails from our moms. Even though both of them should know the routine by now, because MusicMan and I have been married for a little over two years and celebrating holidays together for about four years, our mothers like to be coy. We spend Christmas Eve with MusicMan’s family and Christmas Day with mine.

My crazy mother, who you’ll remember is sick and thus supposed to be taking it easy, decided that we’d do brunch on Christmas Day at around noon. And, just in case people stick around long enough to get hungry again, she’ll have lasagna ready to go in the oven later on in the day. The email she sent to my sister and me indicated that we should invite our in-laws. (Well, my sister isn’t technically married, and it’s hard to keep track of whether or not she and the doofus who fathered her children are together or not at any given moment, but whatever.) The more the merrier, right?!

WRONG! My MIL (Mother-In-Law), though I love her to pieces, and my mom are way too much alike, which means they don’t necessarily get along very well. This is understandable, because it’s hard enough to give one drama queen enough attention (Is there ever enough attention for an attention-whore?!), so you can imagine how hard it is to muster up enough attention for two. MIL most likely won’t join us; nor will my father-in-law, but there’s always a chance (however slight that chance may be).

How my mom thinks we’re going to cram four extra people into her tiny house that barely accommodates the “normal” crowd is completely beyond me. Also, she’s supposed to be taking it easy, but she won’t be if my and my sister’s in-laws join us, because then she’ll have to play the hostess with the mostest to prove just how incredible she really is; especially in the face of adversity. (She is still incredibly sick. We find out Thursday if they're going to hospitalize her for a bit or not, because she's retaining so much fluid that she can now no longer bend her legs and her skin is starting to show signs of being stretched to the max. There is also fluid in her lungs—likely because it has nowhere else to go.)

I, being the loving and helpful daughter that I am, asked my mother to let me know what I could bring to Christmas. I was really hoping the answer wasn’t going to be fruit salad. That’s the standard item usually assigned to me for all holidays. I’m assuming that’s because my family knows I’m not much for cooking. I am capable of more than fruit salad, and MusicMan is quite a good cook, but still I get stuck with the fruit salad.

Photo Courtesy (My family prefers it sans nuts. Doesn't that just look like a culinary delight?!)

I hate the fruit salad!! I don’t even eat it—practically no one does (except mom’s husband and his son)—yet I have to prepare it every holiday. It’s not particularly hard to do, which is why I get the task:

Take a large can of that gross, syrupy fruit cocktail, drain it, pour it in a large bowl

Add three or four sliced Bananas and a can of Mandarin Orange slices (drained) to bowl (I usually forget this part.)

Add one bag of those pastel colored fruity mini marshmallows to bowl

Add large container of Cool Whip to bowl

(Don’t use real whipping cream, because that will totally mess it up. The “salad” needs to taste as overly sweet as is humanly possible without it being actual candy. The irony of the healthy image projected by the name—fruit salad—is the secret ingredient to this not at all healthy “fruit salad.” So, it’s very important to use Cool Whip.)

Stir.

That’s it. See? Not very hard at all. The hardest part about it is making sure most all of the syrup from the fruit cocktail is drained so that, once it’s mixed with the cool whip, it’s nice and smooth instead of a congealed mess. Oh, and remembering the bananas and oranges; I seem to always forget those for some reason, and the lack of bananas totally ruins my mom’s husband’s life. I think I’ve totally ruined his life like three times now. Also, trying not to slit my finger open on the jagged, sharp metal edge of the fruit cocktail can seems to be an ever-present challenge.

(Don’t want a repeat of the Thanksgiving of 2007 when half the fruit salad—i.e. all of the bananas and some of the marshmallows—ended up in the trash because they were covered in my blood. Maybe preparing fruit salad is harder than I thought.)

I learned too late to be careful what I wish for. My mom responded to my offer saying that she’d love for me to bring my French Toast Bake,* a “bunch” of cooked sausage and bacon that we can heat up in the oven, and maybe some fruit salad. (SERIOUSLY?!)

(*Which I introduced at Easter last year, just to show that I’m capable of more than fruit salad, and it would’ve been great with other brunch foods, but someone forgot to tell me that the menu had been switched from brunch to lunch, and French toast doesn’t go so well with ham, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes and gravy, various vegetables and other savory items, and then I vowed never to bring anything to a family holiday meal ever again. Ever! But, you can see how well that worked out. Sometimes, but very rarely, I might have just a tinge of my mom’s drama queen genes.)

I will, of course, obediently bring the foods I was assigned. Except the fruit salad! I am taking a stand. This will be a fruit salad-less Christmas, because I am going to conveniently forget to make it and bring it. Thus single-handedly destroying the holiday for my mom’s husband, I’m sure, but hopefully he’ll find a way to pull through and survive; he’s a fighter. (No, he's not.) Too bad. Important causes, like this one, sometimes have casualties.

Now, I’m just wondering how I’m going to get everything done. You see, my mom seems to have forgotten that I’ve already offered to make and bring five types of cookies, a few dozen cake balls, and some fudge. And, while she is off of work and can make one of each of her five types of cookies per day on the week leading up to Christmas and get done in plenty of time, I don’t have that luxury. I can’t even start baking until next weekend.

This coming weekend I have to study for my Algebra final. Next weekend is, of course, the memorial bonfire for my sister. The Friday night before, I have to prepare the food I plan to bring to the bonfire. This means I’m stuck baking five types of cookies (and hopefully cake balls and fudge), at least four dozen of each kind so there are plenty to go around, on the Saturday night after the bonfire and that Sunday. I work the following week, and that next weekend is Christmas already, so truly next weekend is the only time I’ll have!!

My mother also seems to have neglected the fact that I work on Christmas Eve day, because my company is apparently run by Ebenezer Scrooge and is too cheap to give us the day off. Granted we only have to work a half day, but still; it's inconvenient and kinda sucks. A lot. So, instead of unwinding for a bit between getting home from work and going to my in-laws’, I’ll have to prepare the French Toast Bake that needs to sit in the refrigerator overnight so that the bread can soak up all of the custardy goodness. (And I can hopefully prove to my family, once and for all, that I'm capable of culinary delights beyond fruit salad.)

Photo via

I’m tired just thinking of doing all of this, but I have to find the energy to actually do all of it now! And, I feel like I’m coming down with something, but I’m not even going to think about being sick because I just don’t have the time for it. Mind over matter!

If you don’t hear for me for a while, lovely reader, it’s likely because I’ve been overcome by cookie dough. You’ll probably find me, rocking back and forth in the fetal position, under a mound of Snickerdoodle, Peanut Butter, and Oatmeal cookie dough. Don’t approach too quickly; you don’t want to startle me and end up getting pelted with cake balls!!! :-)

W for War is Brutal

MusicMan had a gig Saturday night, so it was just the puppies and I hangin’ out at home. It started out as a peaceful, quiet night. I practiced some Algebra problems, realized I was really tired and not in the mood to do anything but laze around, and decided to watch a movie instead. We’ve splurged on Showtime in order to be able to get our Dexter fix, so I decided to see what movies they were playing. “The Road” sounded interesting, so I settled down to watch.

Have you seen or heard about this movie? It’s based on the 2007 Pulitzer Prize winning novel of the same name. Just in case you haven’t, I won’t spoil it for you, but here's a brief summary:

The movie takes place within the few years following an unknown apocalyptic event, the details of which are never revealed. The world is constantly dark, covered with what seems to be ash, and plant and animal life have been wiped out. Few seem to have survived, except for the main characters—a man and a boy whose names we don’t know—and the few others they run into along their journey south. The man and boy battle to stay alive as they journey towards, what they hope, is a better and brighter future.

Perhaps I’m not as “cultured” as I’d like to think, but I really disliked this movie. I wanted to stop watching it several times, because it was really just depressing, but I just had to see if there was a happy ending. It didn’t help that, because the movie is set in a post-apocalyptic world, everything was always dark and gray—that really set the mood. But all of the struggles the man and boy face along the way just got to be too much. I found myself wondering when they’d catch a break! So, yeah, this movie just wasn’t for me. That shouldn’t prevent you from watching it, of course, if it sounds interesting to you.

When the movie was over, I went out to our attached garage to have a final cigarette before bed. (I know, I know, it’s a dirty, horrible, disgusting habit. I’m trying to get myself into the right mindset to quit once and for all.) As I was standing there, contemplating what I would do were I stuck in a post-apocalyptic world and forced to face some of the situations and decisions the man and the boy did, I noticed movement in the periphery. Turning my head more to the left, to get a good look, I noticed a little gray mouse peeking over the safety sensor for our automatic garage door.

W.T.F?! From about 10 feet away, I slowly and carefully walked over to the other side of the garage to see if there was a hole that Mr. Mouse had come through. I saw nothing, so I figured he must’ve scampered in when the garage door was open and now couldn’t figure out how to leave, or he’d gotten in under the gap between the garage door and the concrete. I opened the door to the house and called Dexter, our Pug, out to the garage in the hopes that he would scare Mr. Mouse away. It seemed to work, because when I looked again, Mr. Mouse was nowhere in sight.

Realizing that, if Dexter was to actually see Mr. Mouse, he might try to get Mr. Mouse, resulting in a much bigger problem for me, I let Dexter back into the house. A few minutes later, Mr. Mouse reappeared. I was starting to freak out. I didn’t know what do to.

After looking around the walls shared by both the garage and the house, and determining there was no way for Mr. Mouse to find his way into the house, because, ya know, I’m a damn expert on finding teeny, tiny little holes and mouse entryways, I decided MusicMan and I would just have to deal with the issue the followng morning. I consoled myself with the fact that Mr. Mouse probably wouldn’t try to enter the house, because the telltale scent of dog would ensure understanding that it was an inhospitable territory for a mouse, and instead would intelligently decide to find his way out of the garage. I shut off the garage lights, went in the house, and texted MusicMan to beware ‘cause there was a big, bad mouse in our garage. My main concern wasn’t so much the mouse getting into the house, but instead, the mouse crawling up into MusicMan’s nice warm car and wreaking havoc by chewing on wires or something.

After a brief lecture to Lulu and Dexter about how we were at war with Mr. Mouse and they must warn mommy if the enemy tried to infringe on our territory, I went to bed. Even though I was pretty sure neither dog understood me too well since they both just stared at me, occasionally tilting their heads as though they were trying to understand, or at the very least, pay attention, I felt comfortable enough (read: was too exhausted to care about the mouse's possible actions and motives) to go to sleep.

The next morning, I showed MusicMan where I’d seen Mr. Mouse, and MusicMan went out to purchase a couple mouse traps. We’d decided he would buy a couple live traps, if they weren’t too expensive, because we didn’t want to kill Mr. Mouse simply because he’d had the misfortune of stumbling into our garage and not being able to find a way out. The big box hardware store MusicMan went to didn’t have live traps, so he settled on these:

Photo via

The guy at the store told him that these traps likely wouldn’t kill the mouse unless it was trapped for so long that it starved to death. Even though the box had that kill guarantee on it, MusicMan reasoned that we’d check the traps often enough to avoid killing a mouse by starvation, so he purchased the two-pack and setup the traps as soon as he got home. He put one close to the sensor I’d seen Mr. Mouse standing on and the other on the opposite end of the garage, by our garbage can.

Two hours later, as he was leaving to run an errand, he saw that the trap by the garage door sensor had been sprung. Upon inspection, he found that the trap did, indeed, contain a mouse. Sadly, the mouse was dead.

MusicMan came into the house to tell me that we’d caught Mr. Mouse, he wasn’t as little as I’d thought he was, and the guy at the hardware store lied because Mr. Mouse was most definitely dead.

Well, what can I say? War is brutal. It isn’t easy, and it’s never pretty.

I realized, were this a post-apocalyptic world, we’d probably have saved Mr. Mouse's carcass instead of throwing him, trap and all, into the garbage (which would, thankfully, be taken away in a coule days). In a post-apocalyptic world, we’d have to rely on eating mice and bugs for sustenance, assuming they somehow survived the apocalypse too. That’s not a life I want to live. Having to fight, every single day, simply to survive is a scary proposition. I think that’s why I disliked “The Road” so much. It forced me to think about unpleasant, scary things that I didn’t want to think about.

Thankfully, for now at least, the war seems to be over. The other trap remains in position, unsprung, which is a very good sign that our enemies have gotten the mesage that this is our territory. But, a good warrior knows never to let her guard down; the enemy could strike again when it's least expected. And we remain at the ready.

P for Passages of Time

It is amazing how quickly time manages to fly by; isn’t it, lovely reader? Life has been hectic lately. Like don’t remember what day of the week, let alone what month, it is kind of hectic. Psychology class is over, and Algebra wraps up in a couple weeks, which means I’ll soon be on a lovely three week winter break! Wooohooo! I’m looking forward to having some downtime, catching up on my blog reading (I have a lot of catching up to do), and enjoying some time with friends and family. In addition to the busyness of school, work, and life in general, there has been some pretty major family drama too. I just don’t have the energy to get into it right now, so I’ll summarize as best I can…

My mother, who had weight loss surgery over three years ago, is incredibly ill. Like the possibility of dying exists kind of sick. While she insists that this illness has nothing to do with her surgery, it’s hard to deny that it makes recovery more difficult. It’s also hard to ignore that she’s been ill, in one way or another and to one degree or another, since she’s had the surgery. But, whatever.

She’s severely malnourished; her body does not retain any nutrients, or calories, or apparently anything from the food she eats. She’s gained 30 pounds of water weight alone. Apparently there's a possibility that she might have thyroid cancer, but the tests haven’t come back yet. She just started 24/7 IV nutrition therapy in the hopes that they can get her nutrition levels up enough to figure out what exactly is wrong with her, and then hopefully fix whatever it is. To top it off, she and her husband continue to barely scrape by financially. I have loaned given them more money than I care to think about or admit. And there’s no sign that any of that will get better anytime soon. It could, in fact, get worse, because there is a very real possibility that my mom will lose her medical insurance as a result of having to take 3-6 weeks of leave from work in order to try to get better.

It has become a very real possibility that MusicMan and I will need to take custody of my nephew, Li’l D, a lot earlier than we thought we would. We’re as ready as we can be for this, and of course, we want what’s best for Li’l D. Unfortunately, my mother remains stubbornly resistant to the idea. It’s getting to the point where I’m going to have to tell her that, if I’m going to financially support Li’l D any longer (because that’s really the only reason I have given her so much money), then he’s going to live with me. That’s not going to sit well at all. She might sever ties with me, and as a result sever our access to Li’l D. In which case, I will be forced to drag the whole thing into court, because I want what’s best for my nephew. But for now, we wait. And hope…

That things will get better. That my mom will heal and survive. That Li’l D living in such a stressful environment won’t affect him detrimentally for the rest of his life. That mom will come to her senses and do what’s best for Li’l D. That MusicMan and I will be able to handle suddenly becoming “parents” to an almost five-year-old basically overnight. That life will just quit being difficult for a while.

Speaking of difficult, I mentioned at this time last year that I hate this time of year. I gave a few reasons; the biggest of which, is that the anniversary of my youngest sister’s death is in December. It’s amazing the difference a year makes, lovely reader…

December 19 will mark three years that my sister has been gone. I’ve been so focused on finishing up the semester at school, getting ready for the holidays, and excitedly anticipating the bonfire we’ll have (on December 18) to celebrate her life that I momentarily forgot the significance of the date. My cousinfriend made a comment in a conversation we had recently about the date, December 19, being a hard day for my other sister and my twin brother (this is what my mother told my cousin, anyway). I seriously had to think for a few moments about why that would be. Imagine my shock and horror when I realized that the significance of the date is that it is the day, almost three years ago, that my sister was robbed of her life. Time flies.

This, of course, caused me to think about how far I’ve come in that time. I don’t cry nearly as much as I used to. I no longer fear the question, “How many siblings do you have?” and can talk about Kristine’s death without feeling anxious or having a panic attack set it. These are really good changes. Yes, I’ve come a long way since December 19, 2007.

When I first noticed that I hadn’t “lost it” in a good long while, I felt so guilty. How could I not be crying over my dead sister? What was wrong with me?! Then I realized that there was nothing to feel guilty over. Not crying regularly doesn’t in any way diminish the feelings I have for my sister or the profound sense of loss that will always exist as a result of her absence from my life. I love her beyond words. I am thankful that I got to spend the time with her that I did. And, I will never, ever, ever forget her.
I can't cry forever, and crying really truly doesn’t make me feel better about anything. Nor will it change anything. Don’t get me wrong, when those moments of extreme, gut-wrenching anguish hit, I give in to them. I cry my heart out until I just can’t cry anymore. But those moments don’t happen nearly as often anymore, and for that, I am incredibly thankful. The fact that I don’t cry as often anymore means that I’m not in pain as often, and that’s a good thing. It means I am moving forward.

I still think of Kristine every single day—at least once a day, but usually quite a bit more. I miss her more than words can even describe. Of course, I want her here. I want to hear her laugh, I want one of her amazing hugs, and I want to be enveloped in the light—the spirit—that was her. I want my nephew to have his mommy; to know what an amazing mother she was instead of having to hear about it as he grows older. These feelings never go away. My heart physically aches at times over all that she’s missed out on, and will miss out on, and over just how much I miss her and long for her to be here. But, I’ve realized that just isn’t possible. She’s not coming back. Ever. That is a cold, hard, unchanging fact of life.

The grief and healing process is a weird, horrible, confusing, multi-faceted, terrible, amazing thing. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, but at the same time, I know I will be healing for the rest of my life. A big part of that healing lies in forgiveness. I swore I would never, ever forgive Kristine’s murderer, Zachery, for as long as I lived. Like most people, I confused forgiveness with forgetting. Just as I will never forget my sister, I will never forget what Zachery did. I will always, always remember that he hit her so hard that he knocked her out, made a ligature out of a shoelace, and used all of the force he could muster to squeeze the life out of her for no less than two minutes.

But, I’ve forgiven Zachery. I really mean that. Those words—I forgive—come from deep down, the bottom of my heart.

I. Forgive. Him.

Of course, that forgiveness is more for me than it is for him. It means nothing to him; it would mean nothing to him even if he knew. It doesn’t mean that I’m in any way okay with what he did. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss Kristine. It doesn’t mean that I love her any less. It certainly doesn’t diminish the tragedy of what happened. No.

What it does mean is: I’m done with him. Forever. He’s not worth the time or effort I was spending on hating him, being angry over him, or wondering why he did what he did. There’s just no room for that in my head or heart anymore. I’m taking back the power he, or at least what he did, had over me. He did what he did, and he’s being punished appropriately for it. Just as we have to deal with our loss for the rest of our lives, he has to deal with what he did for the rest of his, and that’s good enough for me. I’m done.

I think I needed to forgive him in order to move on with my life, and I really truly have. I feel lighter...cleaner...just plain better. My realization the other day—that I had sort of “forgotten” the significance of the date—makes me realize that I have chosen to honor my sister’s memory not by focusing on her death, but by celebrating her life.

I’m choosing the good memories over the bad. This was her most favorite time of year—the festive feel of the whole season and the buildup to one of her most favorite holidays. Since she can’t be here to enjoy it, I owe it to her to at least appreciate that I can be. This year I’ll do one better. I will joyously anticipate and celebrate Christmas like she would have. In her honor. Because I can’t think of a better way to honor her. Besides, she wouldn’t want me crying all the time. That was so not her style.

N for No Thanks!

I received a letter from Community College last week. Since I wasn’t expecting anything from them, I immediately tore it open and my eyes quickly began to devour the words. As a result of my outstanding GPA and superior academic achievement, I was being offered the special opportunity to enroll in an upcoming honors level English course.

Since I don’t need another English class, at least not another research writing course, and the class is at a time that won’t work for me, I’m gonna pass. However, I finished reading the letter anyway. I was informed that I can ask any instructor of any class to give me honors level work. Apparently all that’s required is a special form from the registration office and the instructor’s permission. Interesting.

You might be thinking, as was I, why would I willingly ask instructors to give me more work? Except, of course, to pad my transcript with honors classes, which I assume are supposed to somehow look better. The thing is I’m only seven classes away from finishing my associate’s degree. Had they caught me a few semesters ago, I might have considered a few honors classes. But, now? Well. Now I’m just a little too smart to ask for more work and/or harder work just for the sake of making me look a tad bit better on paper. Apparently that is not the only reason one takes honors classes though…

The letter went on to say that taking honors level courses would provide me with more of a challenge. Oh, okay. I see it now. I’m apparently too smart for Community College, lovely reader. I wonder what tipped them off. Is it the fact that my GPA has been a solid 4.0 for over a year? It took them long enough to notice. And while I am a perfectionist, apparently I am not an overachiever, because I’m not buying into the “honor” bestowed on those who abuse challenge themselves with honors level courses. Perhaps in a bachelor’s or master’s degree setting, sure, but for an associate’s degree? Really? I don’t think so.

Community College doesn’t seem to understand that they are just a means to an end for me. I need to get my associate’s degree done efficiently (and cheaply) and they meet that need. Once I have what I want from them, I’m done. On to bigger and better things.

Community College has either seriously overestimated my motivation or underestimated my common sense. Why would I put my flawless GPA on the line just to have the words “honors level” appear a few times on my transcript? I can’t imagine that it would give me that much of an edge when applying for a bachelor’s program. I’d think a high cumulative GPA is good enough.

But, perhaps that’s the problem; I’m fine with just good enough. At least for right now, where my associate’s degree is concerned. I mean, really, is the college I transfer to going to look at a 3.6 GPA where the transcript notes some honors courses and think it’s that much better than my 4.0 GPA without honors courses? Is there that much of a difference? I really don’t think so.

As far as being challenged? I think I have been, and continue to be, challenged just enough. Thankyouverymuch! And, because I just recently registered for spring semester classes, I can say with confidence that next semester will be a challenge. Sure there have been some courses along the way that haven’t been very challenging, or riveting, or really felt worth my time at all, but I viewed them as a necessary evil. I don’t think taking them as honors level courses would’ve made them any better.

With only two regular courses—statistics and creative writing—left to take after spring semester, assuming all of the classes I’ve registered for work out this spring (more on that later), I won’t be asking for permission to take honors courses anytime soon. I guess that ship has sailed. I’ll have to be satisfied with the fact that Community College apparently thinks I’m too smart for them.

I know that sounds incredibly arrogant, but that’s really all I can take away from the letter. I mean; I’ve taken four semesters of classes, and they just now caught on to the fact that I could maybe use a challenge?! Seriously?! I can say with confidence that I’ve definitely felt challenged, even if the only challenge presented with certain classes was the shear amount of work assigned. And as I try to fit seven classes (well, five classes and two competencies) into the next two semesters in order to be finished with my associate’s degree on time to start the bachelor’s program in the fall, I have a feeling that there will be no lack of challenge or frustration.

Thanks, but no thanks, Community College. You can take your honors courses and shove them. I’ll keep my 4.0 GPA (or as close to it as I can manage)!

I for I believe...

GAH! I am so frustrated lately, lovely reader. The recent election has me all in a tizzy. Now decency and politeness dictate that one should never discuss politics or religion if she wants to keep friends, but I’m going to throw caution to the wind today and focus on politics for a moment.

I seriously cannot believe the close-mindedness that exists in the world today. Republican/Democrat, Conservative/Liberal, I really don’t care. I can find viewpoints I understand and/or agree with from either party. I personally think we need to get away from the two-party system and back to “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” Though, in the interest of full disclosure, I tend to fall more Democrat/Independent/Liberal. What I can’t stand, and what scares me the most, is the Tea Party. Some Conservatives/Republicans even say that the Tea Party is bat shit crazy! To me, that is definitely cause for concern.

So you can imagine my disgust and outright sadness over the fact that my state nominated a tea partier, Michele Bachman, to represent us in Congress. Yes. People actually went out and voted for a woman, who’s said out loud:

"Little children will be forced to learn that homosexuality is normal and natural and perhaps they should try it."

( Interview with Jan Markell, Olive Tree Ministries.)

“Normalization (of gayness) through desensitization. Very effective way to do this with a bunch of second graders, is to take a picture of ‘The Lion King’ for instance, and a teacher might say, ‘Do you know that the music for this movie was written by a gay man?’ The message is: I’m better at what I do because I’m gay.”

(Speaking at EdWatch National Education Conference, November 6, 2004.)

"That's why people need to continue to go to the town halls, continue to melt the phone lines of their liberal members of Congress, and let them know, under no certain circumstances will I give the government control over my body and my health care decisions."

(As a pro-lifer, she completely missed the irony of using the same slogan as the pro-choice movement in arguing against health care reform.)

She’s also said, “not all cultures are equal,” and, “Carbon dioxide is portrayed as harmful. But there isn't even one study that can be produced that shows that carbon dioxide is a harmful gas." She urged her supporters to vote for her so that, together, they “can take back our freedom!” But, her definition of freedom is quite skewed. Freedom to Michele Bachman means freedom from government control (funny that she’d even want to be a part of the government she hates so much) and taxes, but it does not include the freedom to decide who you will marry. If you’re a woman, Michele Bachman’s version of freedom also doesn’t allow you to make decisions regarding your own body as she wants to ban abortion.

Women who voted for Michele Bachman, or any other tea partier for that matter, are an affront to all women. I realize that saying you’ve betrayed your gender is using strong language, and that it might sound a bit harsh, but that’s how strongly I feel about a woman’s right to choose. I am completely and totally appalled that another woman would even conceive of denying such an important right to other women, and I cannot believe that women would so willingly vote to give up that right. Whether or not you have or would have an abortion isn’t the issue, the issue is that it is an individual woman’s right to choose—not the government’s, not the religious right’s, not the fetus’—it is a woman’s right to choose. We must never allow that right to be taken away.

I fear for the future of our country if the tea party does in fact take it over. I am not at all joking when I say that I will leave this country if that happens. I realize that nowhere is perfect, and that I’ll likely have my fair share of complaints and problems in Germany, Australia, Canada, or any number of other places, but I refuse to live under the tea party’s fascist regime.

I don’t want to live in a country surrounded by heavily reinforced, tightly guarded walls simply because my country’s leaders believe we need to protect ourselves and our country from evil immigrants. We seem to forget that this country was founded on immigration. And let’s not forget that walls don’t only serve to keep people out; they also keep people in. I refuse to be trapped; forced to live under totalitarian rule, under the guise that it’s for my own protection. I don’t want to live in a country in which the government denies basic civil rights to certain citizens simply because they were born to love a person of the same sex as themselves. And I most certainly don’t want to live in a country in which governing law is based upon Christianity, which of course dictates that life is life, and as such, my uterus and its contents are subject to their “protection” instead of my choice.

Instead of railing on about how much I hate the tea party, and fear for my country’s future, perhaps it would just be easier if I tell you what I do believe.

I believe that this country was not founded on Christianity, and as such, should not be run based on Christian principles and values. Our forefathers came to America to escape religious persecution, and as such, our government isn’t, and should never be, based upon one singular religion. There is a reason that separation of church and state exists, and we need to keep it that way. I’m all for religious freedom. You practice whatever religion you want in whatever way you want to, but keep your religion out of my government and away from my body.

I believe that marriage, and all of the rights and protections it affords, is a basic civil right. Two consenting adults, of appropriate age and sound mind, should be allowed to unite in a legally binding marriage regardless of their sexual orientation. If you want to keep those marriages out of your church, that’s fine. You still cannot stop the government from denying basic civil rights to its citizens. Again, you are entitled to your beliefs, but you are not allowed to force them upon others. Don’t like or want gay marriage? Don’t have one!

I believe that we are all responsible for paying our fair share in taxes, and that it is the government’s responsibility to allocate those funds appropriately. I don’t particularly enjoy paying the portion of taxes that goes towards funding public schools. I don’t have children, nor do I plan to, so I don’t get my money’s worth out of those services. However, I realize that educating our children is important to our future, so I’m okay with some of my taxes going towards education.

I would like to know what services Republicans/Conservatives are willing to give up in order to lower our taxes. Should we give up the paving of roads? Police and emergency medical services? Fire departments? Oh, I know! We should cut social services, because that is the one thing that doesn’t personally impact you; am I right?

I believe that people are generally good, honest, and want to be contributing members of society. Contrary to the disgusting belief that poor people live off the government by choice, because they’re just worthless and lazy, I understand that some people need a little help now and then. Call me naïve, but I don’t think most people are content to just laze around, living off of others. Most people who utilize social services do so as a means of bettering themselves and their lives; they in no way intend it to be a permanent solution.

I’m okay with my taxes going towards providing food, shelter, and medical services to those who need it. I’m thankful that those services were available to my twenty-four-year old mother when she found herself unable to feed her three young children on her own because the little money she made at her retail job went towards daycare and rent. Many people seem to think that the government shouldn’t spend our tax money on social programs, because charities can meet the needs of the unfortunate. That simply isn’t true. My youngest sister contacted a few charities to try to get help feeding her and her toddler and paying for housing while she was temporarily jobless, and she was denied services because she didn’t fit the criteria; she apparently wasn’t poor/needy enough. If being a jobless single mom isn’t poor enough, I don’t care to know what is.

I believe that health care is a right, not a privilege. It is shameful that the richest country in the world doesn’t make sure that all of its citizens have access to basic medical care. It’s deplorable that the health care industry focuses more on the almighty dollar than on taking care of people. The system needs to change.

I believe that hate speech/crime, anti-bullying, and anti-discrimination legislation wouldn’t be necessary if people would accept that we’re all different, and that’s okay. No one is better than anyone else simply because their privilege afforded them the opportunity to be born white, or male, or middle class, or rich, or in the good old U S of A. People who had the “misfortune” of being born gay, or black, or female, or to low income or uneducated parents are not lesser people, and we shouldn’t treat them like second class citizens. We are all people regardless of race, class, gender, or sexual orientation, and as such, we deserve certain rights under the constitution. No one should have to suffer chronic discrimination or hatred or torture simply because they are deemed by someone else to be different.

I believe that rational and logical thought, scientific evidence and facts, and education are key to making informed decisions. Voters carry a big responsibility, and you do yourself and others a great disservice by voting purely based on emotions or on what your church or others tell you to believe. Knowledge is power! Educate yourself on the issues, and make informed decisions based on your principles and morals. Morality and God do not go hand-in-hand; nonbelievers know and understand right from wrong too, and most of us are generally good no matter where our morals and principles came from.  If your morals and principles happen to match your religion or church’s, well I guess that’s pretty convenient; however, your way is not the only way and your beliefs are no more right or valid than anyone else’s.

I believe that abortion is a woman’s health issue, and it is a woman’s right to choose what is best for her. A small amount of women making poor choices (i.e. using abortion as birth control) does not mean we should take the right to choose away from all women. Women get abortions regardless of whether or not it’s legal, regardless of the risk to their lives or health, regardless of the morality of abortion, and regardless of what the fetus may or may not be. When abortion wasn’t legal, women still found ways to end their pregnancies, and unfortunately some of those methods were dangerous and ended in women dying. That is not okay, and we can never go back to that.

The life of a fetus is a subjective matter. One must first get life—i.e. be born—to have a right to life. Fetuses are different from born human beings in prefunds ways; the most fundamental of which is that a fetus is totally dependent on a woman’s body to survive. She is the only one who can keep it alive; therefore, she is the one who gets to make the choice on whether or not to carry her pregnancy to term. A fetus doesn’t have the right to use the woman’s body against her will. Can we force people to donate organs to keep others alive? No; we can’t, because only living, breathing, viable human beings have rights.

Many times, the decision to abort isn’t made from the perspective of not wanting the child, but rather knowing that one cannot provide a decent life for that child. I know women who’ve had abortions and women who’ve given their children up for adoption, and the women in the latter group are far more psychologically troubled over their decision than women in the former group, because there is more finality and closure to abortion than there is for adoption. I am sadder for all of the unwanted children living in orphanages in this world, wishing to be adopted into families, than I am for the potential children that were lost to abortion.

That’s right; I said potential children. That’s what a fetus is: a potential human life. Just as a 16 year old boy can’t walk into a bar and legally be served alcohol simply because he’s a “potential 21 year old,” we don’t extend rights, including the right to life, to a fetus simply because the potential for life exists.

Yes, I understand that it is oftentimes partially the woman’s fault for becoming pregnant, but in cases of rape it is not. For those who believe that abortion is a viable alternative only in cases where the victim was raped, I’d ask why it’s only in those cases that the mother’s life and choice is more important than a fetus’.  What gives you the right to decide that abortion is only appropriate in certain situations? Again, I say that this very private choice belongs in the hands of women.

I’d also argue that keeping our women uneducated, by not allowing comprehensive sex education in schools, further decreases her fault in accidentally getting pregnant. If she didn’t know how to prevent it, she can hardly take all of the blame for it. It is a proven fact that comprehensive sex education decreases pregnancy—especially teenage pregnancy—and does not increase the likelihood that a teenager will have sex. If we want to decrease abortions, we could start with teaching comprehensive sex education in our schools, but we cannot completely remove abortion as an option. Once again, if your religion, principles, or morals dictate that abortion is wrong, don’t get one, but you cannot take that choice away from women who do not hold the same beliefs as you.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd, I’m spent! If you’ve hung in there and read this whole post, you’re awesome and I thank you for indulging me. I am open to your thoughts and opinions, even if you don’t agree with me. As I said before, knowledge is power. I am open to hearing points of view that differ from my own, because you never know when you just might learn something. Don’t be afraid to start the dialogue by commenting below. I’m a big girl; I can take whatever it is you have to say to me. I hope you all have a fabulous weekend.