The Best of Friends

This post continues August's "Write your face off" writing challenge from the fabulous Brittany Gibbons.

The Best of Friends

I am an incredibly lucky woman.  I have the honor and the privilege to have two amazing women as my best friends.  I thank the Lord that they are, and have been, a part of my life as they have saved me in so many ways, big and small, that I could never, ever repay them.  They are both incredibly smart, funny, sassy, strong – just all around badasses, really – and I love them both like sisters. 

These are the ladies I can go to when I need some no-nonsense advice.  They will not blow smoke up my ass – but when they tell me I am being an idiot, they will do it gently and make me laugh about it.  We are fiercely on each other’s side and will totally cut a bitch who dares to mess with one of us.  These are the people whom I would call if my world was falling apart and who would undoubtedly drop everything to come to my aid as I would do for them without further thought.  They are both beautiful, inside and out, and unapologetically shine with such life that they take my breath away.  They are a ray of sunshine and my days are always brighter for having them in my life.  We make each other laugh, cry, learn, and best of all, love – ourselves and each other. 

Amy is the beautiful blond on the left. That's me on the right.

Amy has the innate ability to put situations into a relatable perspective that helps me to understand why some people do what they do.  She is the most empathetic and compassionate person I know.  She is a fucking rock star and has helped me to see and understand things that I couldn’t before – and I am a better person for it.  We are proof positive that people with diametrically opposed political opinions and leanings can get along just fine.  We respect and love each other despite, and because of, our differences.   

Jennifer with one of her offspring.

Jennifer can cut to the heart of any situation in the blink of an eye and her intelligent insight has aided me innumerable times.  She brooks no bullshit and has little patience for fucktards.  She has a heart of gold and is generous, courageous and uncompromisingly honest without being mean.  She is my baseline.  We calm each other in a way that defies logic and reason.  Life is good and troubles are far away when we spend time together.  We are family.

I love both of these women with every fiber of my being.  They have both taught me so much and I can only hope that I have helped them a fraction as much as they have helped me.  The world is a better place with them in it.  Especially mine.

I will leave off with a poem I wrote, several years ago, in honor of my two best friends:

True Sisters

Sisters by love, if not by blood.

Trust and faith in an increasing flood.

Sworn in our hearts to cherish and care.

Laughing, or crying, forever a pair.

Belief in our strength, support in our weakness.

Throughout the passing years, our bond increases.

Sisters, beloved are we.

Sisters, forever we will be.

Dear Young College Student

I decided to participate in Brittany Gibbons "August Write Your Face Off" challenge.  This is my first attempt at responding to one of her prompts... So, here goes:

 

What would you tell a young girl going off to college for the first time?

So, so many things.  College was a completely new era for me.  New beginnings.  New city.  New life without the trappings of constant family obligation and guilt.  I absolutely loved college and the opportunity it afforded me to simultaneously learn about myself and the world.  Best time of my life.

That being said, I would say first – Use this time wisely.  This is an opportunity for you to spend time solely on yourself.  No kids (hopefully). No husband (hopefully). Just you.  This new freedom is amazing and intoxicating, but don’t let yourself get completely drunk on it.  Use this time to learn your limits and know yourself.

You will be given what you might initially think is free money.  It’s not.  You WILL have to pay it back, and then some (credit cards are no joke, yo).  But it is important to at least TRY to be a smidge responsible – otherwise you will regret it later.  Trust me. 

Be safe.  Be aware.  Be fierce.  Be fabulous.  Most people know the statistics.  One in four women is a survivor of sexual assault or rape.  Do yourself a favor and take a self-defense class.  Or two.  There are classes offered nearly everywhere and if there isn’t one in your area or at your college, search YouTube or get a book on Amazon.  Or contact me.  Seriously.  Do it.  I will help you find something that works for you.  The simplest piece of advice I can give you right now is trust your gut and be aware of your surroundings.  If something feels weird; if someone is standing too close to you on the elevator for no reason; if your spidey senses are twitchy; remove yourself from the situation.  Immediately – or as quickly as possible.  It may be a touch embarrassing, but it just might save your life.

If you are one of these women, a SURVIVOR, I have something to tell you: IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT.  Were you walking to your car late at night? Not your fault.  Were you wearing a mini skirt and a halter top with the girls on full display?  Still not your fault.  Were you forced by your boyfriend, whom you’d had sex with previously?  Still not your fault.  Were you drunk?  Still not your fault.  Did you say no and then, eventually, just let it happen because he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer?  Still not your fault.  Did you walk naked down the middle of the street in broad daylight? STILL. NOT. YOUR. FUCKING. FAULT.  Keep telling yourself that and surrounding yourself with people who will tell you the same thing until you 100%, right down to the ground, without reservation, believe it.  It was not your fault.  Believe it.

So, long story short, college is a wonderful opportunity for you to explore yourself, the world at large and the knowledge it contains.  It is a gift.  Try not to take it for granted and try to use it wisely.  You will mess up.  You will make some epic mistakes.  But you will learn.  And, hopefully, look back fondly on this formative time in your life – as I do.  Congratulations and good luck!

My Cat is an Asshole, Part Deux

So we've established the fact that one of my cats is an asshole.  The other two are total awesomesauce.  Squeakers (a.k.a., skeeky-deeky, lik and skeeks) is my baby.  She was found about 11 or so years ago with her brothers and sisters under an office trailer at a construction site, having been abandoned by their mother.  She was only about five or six weeks old. I took her in and bottle fed her until she was ready to be weaned. She is the most spectacular cat and I love her to death.  A great mouser and one of the most affectionate cats I've ever had.  Daphne (a.k.a., sugar, swishy, chinchilla and chee-ra) is very pretty.  Not so much in the way of smarts, but very, very pretty.  And very sweet.  She is mostly my stepdaughter's cat, but she spreads the love.  However, Char Burger (a.k.a., little bastard, devil cat, panther and thief) is full of piss and vinegar.  He absolutely adores my husband and alternately tortures and tolerates me and my stepdaughter. His latest escapade nearly drove me bat-shit crazy and here it is:

I'll start with letting you know that I am not a morning person.  Not even a little bit.  It takes a minimum of a shower and two cups of coffee before I can consider myself a productive member of society.  I'm part zombie, part vampire (no bright lights please) and all bitch.  Before I go to work in the mornings, I typically shuffle/ stumble from one task to another (shower, get dressed, feed the dogs, pack breakfast and lunch, etc.) until I'm ready to go to work.  No one else is up at this hour besides the dogs, the cats and me.  Which is for the best, really.  There would be way too much blood, screaming and general trauma otherwise.

Anyhoo, one morning, I had all of my stuff packed and ready to go (including breakfast and lunch) and I went out for my morning cigarette (yes, I know it's bad for me - I'm cutting back, I swear - shut up).  That done, I came back inside, grabbed my stuff and left.

I got to work and started getting myself set up for the day.  Went to grab my breakfast out of my bag and it wasn't there.  Now, due to my morning zombie/ vampire/ bitch proclivities I immediately thought that I had forgotten it.  But I was SURE that I had packed it, which doesn't happen very often (me being certain about anything occurring early in the morning, that is). 

I absolutely drove myself crazy wondering what I had done with it.  Had I put it back in the fridge?  Did I leave it on the counter?  Did I imagine the whole thing?  Had there been a covert government operation in which my morning repast had to be destroyed in order to save the world? (FYI - I'd been watching wayyy too much Alias on Netflix lately)   What the fuck had happened to my breakfast? 

It bothered me so much that I actually made the short trip home at lunch time to solve the mystery.  Luckily my husband was home and he shared with me that he had found some bread and deli meat in little tooth-marked baggies on the couch.  My breakfast!  The little thief, devil cat, motherfucker had taken my breakfast for himself! 

Now, you might be thinking that the other cats may have done it - but Squeakers was outside (I had let her out when I went to smoke and besides, she's mamma's perfect angel and would never do such a thing) and Daphne... Well... Have I mentioned that she's pretty?  Little Daphe just doesn't have it in her to be stealthy and sneaky. 

I wanted to wring Burger's neck, the little shit.  But he was lounging in front of our heater, looking all innocent and cute - and he gave me a little trill-meow thing and I just couldn't do it. Dammit.  He's sly, that one.  He has my number.  I'm so totally screwed. 

My Cat is an Asshole

I have come to the conclusion that my cat is an asshole.  Yet, for some reason, I still love the hairy little bastard.  What does that say about me?

I have to hide my ponytail holders from him.  Yes, actually HIDE them.  If I don't, he will steal them and promptly lose them under the nearest large appliance (fridge, washer, dryer, etc.).  I shudder to think how many of the damn things are now collecting dust bunnies under my major appliances.  You'd think they would be safe in a drawer in the bathroom. You'd be wrong.  Oh so very wrong.  He has mastered the art of opening drawers with the express purpose of absconding with my hair accessories.  He has gotten quite good at it, actually.  He is an evil genius.  I have taken to keeping them in an antique dresser in my bedroom.  The drawers on this sucker are sometimes difficult for me to open, so I know he won't be able to open them.  Let me rephrase that - he hasn't figured out how to open them yet. 

He knows that I keep them in there.  Whenever I go to get one, or put one away, he is always there... watching... waiting... plotting...

He also likes to eat paper.  If I leave any papers on the table or counter (especially important ones), he enjoys shredding himself a light snack.  My husband says he is just a violent reader.  I'm not buying it.  He's just an asshole (the cat, not my husband). 

Yeah... about that...

So, clearly I am a lazy doof and have not even attempted to make a post in what? Four years?  Wow, time sure does fly when your going nucking futs. 

I think part of it is that I moved into a whole new level of not giving a shit about politics.  The two parties?  I hate them both.  They are both taking us on a boatride into fucking insanity.  They both lie.  They are both rife with corruption and croney-ism.  They both pretty much just suck. And I am absolutely fed up with it.  They can suck it - I'm not playing the games anymore and I'm not falling for the bullshit.

Meh - maybe I'll get up enough gumption to expand on that later... but for now, I'd better get back to work :-P

Thoughts

Why does no one seem to be interested in truth anymore? Passionate and vehement defence of one's ideals is no longer defined by truth and facts - or objective information. It is defined by one's perceptions and feelings - or subjective ( i.e. personal) information. This, I believe, is the key to understanding the vitriolic state of political discourse in this country. Conservatives and liberals alike have ceased identifying any commonality with each other because of the fact that they are largely guilty of abandoning logic and objective information and have wholly invested themselves in a personal and subjective defense of their principles. They have emotionally and personally invested so much of themselves into their ideals that they can no longer separate the two. This makes constructive discourse nearly impossible, as any argument from either side can and will be construed as a personal attack. In many cases, especially at the most extreme poles of the political spectrum, opposing viewpoints are rarely heard or seen and if presented are largely rejected out of hand.

There are countless examples of people making false statements that are taken as factual due to the absolute conviction of the speaker. The perception is that the speaker is confident in their statements, therefore, they must be speaking the truth. No one, or very few people, take the trouble to check for themselves if the statement is actually true, especially if it agrees with their own personal ideals. If these false statements are bought wholesale by the media, then it perpetuates itself ad infinitum and frequently reinforces itself.

The First Post

I am starting this blog mostly in the interest of maintaining my sanity. I have few opportunities for political discourse and I have become so frustrated, discouraged and downright enraged by just about everything going on these days that I need some sort of release, or my head will likely explode. I doubt anyone will read this and frankly, I don't care. I merely want a little place to call my own; where I can maunder to my heart's content on the sick, sad state of the world at large. So, here it goes... we'll see if this endeavor will be as cathartic as I hope...