Graphic courtesy of the AnimationLibrary.
~Riot.Jane
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
The Damage of Child Beauty Pageants
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| Riot.Jane |
In this blog post Mary Jo Rapini, LPC discusses whether it's the contestant or the parent that is actually benefiting from the pageant experience. She also suggests better ways to help children learn the lessons they need to be successful people than crawling the beauty pageant circuit.
Beauty Pageants For Toddlers; Who Are They For?
A Postcard from The Single (Mom) Life
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| Megan DaGata |
The nights are so short though, and I don't get to think. I get home at 7 pm, and I try to get the kids in bed by 9. I am not happy. I only get to spend 2 hours a day with my boys. No sir I'm not happy! A mother's place is raising her kids, and I don't get to do that. Right now I am paying someone more than half my salary to raise them, and get frustrated when things aren't done the way that I would do them. I say something and it's like I haven't said a word, which only pisses me off more.
Reason #9 I Love My Bestie
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| Riot.Jane |
ME: Okay, I have to ask you this because you're the only woman I could ever ask this of.
HER: Okkkkaaaaayyyyyyy.
ME: You have to not wear one of your plunging necklines.
HER: Ummmmmmm, what? Oh. Okay. Sure.
ME: Great, you're awesome, thanks!
HER: Ummmmmmm, why?
ME: My boyfriend's a total perv! And I want him staring at my chest, not yours.
Sexy Sundays | Pulling a Rabbit out of the Hat
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| Riot.Jane |
The most common advice I've seen over the years runs along the line of thought of Do something new, Surprise your partner, Step out of the same-old stuff, Introduce some variety, et cetera.
While there's nothing inherently wrong with such platitudes as these, the practical implementation of them as suggested is fraught with danger. Let's examine the potential complications with specific examples.
Very Old and Very Sexy…An Oxymoron?
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| Hattie RetroAge |
What happened to turn that around?
Here goes…
When I was about five years old, my immigrant mother took me to the Steam Baths in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. Just a mere pre-schooler, choking in the heat, I peered up with disgust at what I perceived to be “fat, old ladies”. Then and there I decided if that’s what being a lady looks like, I’ll never grow up.
Words for the Co-Dependent Set
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| Megan DaGata |
WAKE the F--- UP!
I don't know how else to put this. I am not going to sugar-coat it for you . . . And I don't think I can. If you are in a relationship that you feel you are doing 90% of the work, then you need to check out your priorities. Ask yourself a few questions for a change . . . How am I? Do I like myself? Do I have enough self respect to leave? Do I make myself happy being in this relationship?
Unintentionally Insulting? "Guide to Dating Fat Women"
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| Riot.Jane |
I think the fact that it was written by a woman might have given me some hope for the quality of its content. Regardless of why, upon first glance I expected something weighty and insightful, maybe even a bit witty. What I found was anything but . . .
Maintaining a Sex Life While Co-Sleeping
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| Bess Bedell |
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Being a parent is hard. Being a parent and having a gratifying sexual life can sometimes feel impossible. And when you throw a baby in the middle of the bed, smack center between you and your spouse - sex can become a rare commodity. The number one concern of many parents is: If they co-sleep with their baby, how will they ever have sex? As a co-sleeping mom who has had 1-2 children in the bed with her every night for the past 2 ½ years, I can help you with that question.
The Wrong Lessons to Teach Your Child 101
Some Michiganders and Ohioans are on the front lines of living lessons we shouldn’t be teaching our children, namely that physical violence is the proper response to not getting your own way.
Within the last month, a mother-daughter team attacked a discount department store greeter in Ohio, and a mother-father team attacked a school crossing guard in Michigan. Both attacks occurred with children of the attackers present, and both attacks occurred in public places with witnesses present.
Within the last month, a mother-daughter team attacked a discount department store greeter in Ohio, and a mother-father team attacked a school crossing guard in Michigan. Both attacks occurred with children of the attackers present, and both attacks occurred in public places with witnesses present.
“Love is an Attacker in the Dark”
One of my work spouses (in this sense I am polygamous) recently made this statement to me openly, in front of other co-workers. He simply walked up to us and said that, without apparent provocation “love is like an attacker in the dark”.
“Tell me more,” I said.
He went on to tell me that, when you’re walking down a dark alley, trying to get from here to there, just going along your merry way . . . BAM! Around the corner it swoops . . . An attacker in the dark . . . A blur of motion and limbs and shock that overtakes you before you can blink, before you can register the occurrence . . . Knocking you down and taking control of you.
“Are you seriously equating romantic love with a high-speed mugging?” I asked.
“Tell me more,” I said.
He went on to tell me that, when you’re walking down a dark alley, trying to get from here to there, just going along your merry way . . . BAM! Around the corner it swoops . . . An attacker in the dark . . . A blur of motion and limbs and shock that overtakes you before you can blink, before you can register the occurrence . . . Knocking you down and taking control of you.
“Are you seriously equating romantic love with a high-speed mugging?” I asked.
*I* Was "The Other Woman"
For almost two years, I was "The Other Woman." The man was divine in my eyes. The wife was a crazy person, and theirs was a loveless marriage. He stayed married to her because, where he came from, divorced fathers weren't fathers, and come hell or high water, he was going to be a good father. Even if that meant staying in a marriage where neither person had a single word to say to one another outside of "Excuse me" or "Did you pay the electricity bill?"
We began as friends, and I didn't even know he was married until after I was hooked -- He didn't wear a ring, and spoke only of his children (i.e. not his wife, ever), so I assumed that there simply wasn't a wife. It wasn't until a third party told me that he was married that the concept crossed my mind. I didn't believe it, but I asked him anyway.
The look of surprise on his face told me in that instant that he assumed I knew. By that time it was too late . . . Even after the hours of talking that followed, in which he told me the details of his loveless marriage, I couldn't walk away knowing that he wanted me to stay.
In hindsight, I don't think he'd ever fallen in love before he fell in love with me. A confident and self-sufficient person, he didn't understand what loneliness was until he was separated from me while on a trip. Our affair was inflammatory, and our conviction epic.
We began as friends, and I didn't even know he was married until after I was hooked -- He didn't wear a ring, and spoke only of his children (i.e. not his wife, ever), so I assumed that there simply wasn't a wife. It wasn't until a third party told me that he was married that the concept crossed my mind. I didn't believe it, but I asked him anyway.
The look of surprise on his face told me in that instant that he assumed I knew. By that time it was too late . . . Even after the hours of talking that followed, in which he told me the details of his loveless marriage, I couldn't walk away knowing that he wanted me to stay.
In hindsight, I don't think he'd ever fallen in love before he fell in love with me. A confident and self-sufficient person, he didn't understand what loneliness was until he was separated from me while on a trip. Our affair was inflammatory, and our conviction epic.
Respecting the Memory of "Us"
When I was younger, the nights were worse than the days. When I tried to quiet my roiling brain, thoughts of the missing man I loved would poke their snouts into the swirling river of thought commanding my brain. Every bit of hard-fought calm met an equal measure of pain.
Long into the night, I would lie on my side in my bed, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped around my knees, unable to breathe except in gasps, tears sliding down my face occasionally, sometimes so late into the night that I would have to call into work sick the next day.
Now it's the mornings that kill me. Not even coherent yet, the presence of his absence rings in my mind afresh. Another small death, another tolling of the bells. The throbbing of the bells, the sobbing of the bells in unhappy Runic rhyme. The rolling of the bells, the tolling of the bells keeping shrieking time for my broken heart.
I can't help but know throughought my being that I need not ask for whom these bells toll . . . They toll in respect for our memory.
~Riot.Jane
(apologies to John Donne and Edgar Allen Poe)
Long into the night, I would lie on my side in my bed, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped around my knees, unable to breathe except in gasps, tears sliding down my face occasionally, sometimes so late into the night that I would have to call into work sick the next day. Now it's the mornings that kill me. Not even coherent yet, the presence of his absence rings in my mind afresh. Another small death, another tolling of the bells. The throbbing of the bells, the sobbing of the bells in unhappy Runic rhyme. The rolling of the bells, the tolling of the bells keeping shrieking time for my broken heart.
I can't help but know throughought my being that I need not ask for whom these bells toll . . . They toll in respect for our memory.
~Riot.Jane
(apologies to John Donne and Edgar Allen Poe)
How to Date a Women’s Studies Major: Just Don’t
Brittany Hunt @ The Miscellany News has posted a hilarious piece, How to Date a Women’s Studies Major: Just Don’t, about the pitfalls of dating radfems. While I don't necessarily agree with with everything in the piece, the serious points she makes about stereotypes and the men who are afraid of (or are intimidated by) radfems bear consideration by those of us who consider themselves feminist. Make no mistake: Hunt is talking about radfems in her piece, not your garden variety (and much more common!) feminist.
While Hunt's piece does bear reading, I'd like to seriously address her bullet points here in my own feminist voice:
Remember: She's a Lesbian Until Proven Otherwise
How do I describe how infuriating it is to have people hate me due to a figment their own imagination? Seriously, people -- If you're going to dislike me, do it because I'm boisterous, loud, outspoken, aggressive, obstreperous, direct, brutally honest, suck with interpersonal politics, have a potty mouth, demand equal treatment, or any one of a number of other characteristics I actually posses in abundance.
If you're so full of hatred and self-loathing that you can't see past your own insecurities and guess as to what gender sex partner I prefer, then redeem yourself a bit by waiting until you actually experience something about me before hating me, okay?
But if She Isn't, She's a Total Slut
Your expectations of when or if I'm going to have sex with you has very little to do with my politics or your financial worth. My sexual activity has much more to do with my hormonal cycle, how charming you are, and whether or not I'm emotionally involved with someone else. The slightest whiff of expectation from you transforms my vulva into the Antarctic -- Dry to the touch, cold, and most uninviting. Whether or not I love the cock in general has little to do with whether or not I'm going to love your cock.
Speaking of male sexual expectations regarding feminists . . . No, we're not all on The Pill. No, we don't all love having abortions. No, we're not all superfreaks in the sack. No, we're not all VD-free. No, we're not all into rampant promiscuity. Some of us can't use hormonal birth control, some of us are intensely anti-abortion, some of us only like Missionary-only sex, some of us are just as irresponsible as some of you are when it comes to safe sex, and some of us are actually fairly chaste.
Deal with it, and stop assuming things that are going to get you slapped, sued for child support, or a venereal disease while you stand there whining, "But she was a feminist!"
Don't Hold the Door for Her
I can't tell you how many times I have an exchange like this with a male stranger:
Holding a door is no different that "Excuse me," or "Please pass the salt," so . . .
Yes, talk about your emotions but don't go overboard. I am a proud human, and a feminist, and as a result I'm generally not going to be a whiny or over-emotional type. There's a huge difference between bitching about an encounter at the office that pissed you off, explaining why it pissed you off while you're trying to work through it and whining like an impotent victim and moping for a week.
If you're more emotional than I am, if you're more "sensitive" that I am, I'm not going to be impressed. Everyone has moments of weakness and struggle, but if it's overboard and if it's a pattern, I'm probably going to toss you like an old pair of shoes.
Check it -- I am a strong person, and I keep strong people around me because I don't have time or patience for anything else.
Congrats! You've Made it to Your One-Year Anniversary -- Things NOT to Buy Her as a Gift
Unless you're replacing items I already own that are broken, that I've run out of, or it's a gift card from a store you already know I love to shop, beauty products and kitchen products are right out. If you haven't figured out by the 1-year mark what I like and/or what I need, and you're not creative enough to come up with something on your own, then you really ought to re-evaluate your own observational skills while you're e-mailing my best friend to ask her advice.
~Riot.Jane
While Hunt's piece does bear reading, I'd like to seriously address her bullet points here in my own feminist voice:
Remember: She's a Lesbian Until Proven Otherwise
How do I describe how infuriating it is to have people hate me due to a figment their own imagination? Seriously, people -- If you're going to dislike me, do it because I'm boisterous, loud, outspoken, aggressive, obstreperous, direct, brutally honest, suck with interpersonal politics, have a potty mouth, demand equal treatment, or any one of a number of other characteristics I actually posses in abundance.
If you're so full of hatred and self-loathing that you can't see past your own insecurities and guess as to what gender sex partner I prefer, then redeem yourself a bit by waiting until you actually experience something about me before hating me, okay?
But if She Isn't, She's a Total Slut
Your expectations of when or if I'm going to have sex with you has very little to do with my politics or your financial worth. My sexual activity has much more to do with my hormonal cycle, how charming you are, and whether or not I'm emotionally involved with someone else. The slightest whiff of expectation from you transforms my vulva into the Antarctic -- Dry to the touch, cold, and most uninviting. Whether or not I love the cock in general has little to do with whether or not I'm going to love your cock.
Speaking of male sexual expectations regarding feminists . . . No, we're not all on The Pill. No, we don't all love having abortions. No, we're not all superfreaks in the sack. No, we're not all VD-free. No, we're not all into rampant promiscuity. Some of us can't use hormonal birth control, some of us are intensely anti-abortion, some of us only like Missionary-only sex, some of us are just as irresponsible as some of you are when it comes to safe sex, and some of us are actually fairly chaste.
Deal with it, and stop assuming things that are going to get you slapped, sued for child support, or a venereal disease while you stand there whining, "But she was a feminist!"
Don't Hold the Door for Her
I can't tell you how many times I have an exchange like this with a male stranger:
Man: Holds door open and allows me to pass through ahead of himI never cease to be amazed that holding a door is considered by anyone to be anything except common courtesy. I hold doors for people all the time . . . The elderly, the young, the infirm, people carrying things, etc. Sometimes I hold it open behind me, sometimes I hold it open in front of me to let them pass. All of it depends upon my mood, the situation, and my level of observance.
Me: Why thank you, kind sir. I appreciate that!
Man: Relieved look.
Man: I'm really glad! I never know when I'm going to get yelled at for that!
Holding a door is no different that "Excuse me," or "Please pass the salt," so . . .
Men: Keep holding doors when you want to do so! Most people appreciate it.Talk About Your Emotions
Women: Get over yourselves! You are not advancing the cause by yelling at strangers in public for extending common courtesy.
Yes, talk about your emotions but don't go overboard. I am a proud human, and a feminist, and as a result I'm generally not going to be a whiny or over-emotional type. There's a huge difference between bitching about an encounter at the office that pissed you off, explaining why it pissed you off while you're trying to work through it and whining like an impotent victim and moping for a week.
If you're more emotional than I am, if you're more "sensitive" that I am, I'm not going to be impressed. Everyone has moments of weakness and struggle, but if it's overboard and if it's a pattern, I'm probably going to toss you like an old pair of shoes.
Check it -- I am a strong person, and I keep strong people around me because I don't have time or patience for anything else.
Congrats! You've Made it to Your One-Year Anniversary -- Things NOT to Buy Her as a Gift
Unless you're replacing items I already own that are broken, that I've run out of, or it's a gift card from a store you already know I love to shop, beauty products and kitchen products are right out. If you haven't figured out by the 1-year mark what I like and/or what I need, and you're not creative enough to come up with something on your own, then you really ought to re-evaluate your own observational skills while you're e-mailing my best friend to ask her advice.
Hints for the BEST Anniversary Gifts:I hope that my effort to supplement Hunt's humorous piece with serious points has been educational. I invite our Janes and Joes to comment about dating feminists and radfems.
If I read, books are a hit if you've taken 10 minutes to look at my bookcase or paid any attention whatsoever to what I talk about. Take your ass to a locally-owned bookstore and talk to a clerk if you're at a loss.
If I'm a science nerd, science museum trips are a winner because it's an experience with you
Receiving flowers at the office is a total win because I get lots of attention from my co-workers. This gives me a chance to bask in the limelight and talk you up with everyone else being jealous! Whatever happens, don't have them delivered on the last day of my workweek -- Send them early if you have to, because wilted Monday flowers are simply sad.
Stay away from topics you don't know -or- consult with a knowledgeable person early. The book item I already talked about? Do this with fashion accessories or technical gadgets or anything else that you're not into but I am. If you don't, you'll look incompetent at best and uncaring at worst. This is why men and women squabble after gift-giving: The appearance of not putting enough thought or effort into the gift that it makes some kind of sense.
Be sure that any object you choose (if you choose an object) is fully, 100% returnable/refundable. At least if you mess up, the two of you can make an afternoon of exchanging/refunding it for a more suitable item. This afternoon can be, if planned properly, a second anniversary celebration. If you pay attention, you can turn a fail into a win!
~Riot.Jane
You're Good for Me
Quarter past 9am and working hard when I receive a text from my girlfriend Angela —“I miss u bad.” I respond, “Me too, blue eyes.”
Later, I find myself looking at pictures of her on my Blackberry. As I scroll from one picture to another, with the earphones in my ears playing our song “You’re Good For Me,” I feel it! There it goes again!! A tingle here, a tingle there, and soon it becomes a repeated pattern occurring from my heart to my soul.
Each picture I scrolled, I smiled, and with every smile I felt her inside me… After I finished looking at all the pictures, I text her:
Each day that goes by, my love for you grows
heavier and intoxicating…when I see your picture,
it makes me want to be with you more and when I hear
your voice it tickles my heart. Oh my love, you’re good for me.
Song Lyrics: “Good For Me”
To be with you is easy
I know you’re good for me
This feeling inside me
Oh it sends me sky high
To feel for you is easy
Oh baby…
I know you’re good for me
This feeling inside me
Oh it sends me sky high
You’re good for me, my baby
So good for me, my love
You’re good for me, my baby
So good for me, oh love
~Anonymous
Later, I find myself looking at pictures of her on my Blackberry. As I scroll from one picture to another, with the earphones in my ears playing our song “You’re Good For Me,” I feel it! There it goes again!! A tingle here, a tingle there, and soon it becomes a repeated pattern occurring from my heart to my soul.
Each picture I scrolled, I smiled, and with every smile I felt her inside me… After I finished looking at all the pictures, I text her:
Each day that goes by, my love for you grows
heavier and intoxicating…when I see your picture,
it makes me want to be with you more and when I hear
your voice it tickles my heart. Oh my love, you’re good for me.
Song Lyrics: “Good For Me”
To be with you is easy
I know you’re good for me
This feeling inside me
Oh it sends me sky high
To feel for you is easy
Oh baby…
I know you’re good for me
This feeling inside me
Oh it sends me sky high
You’re good for me, my baby
So good for me, my love
You’re good for me, my baby
So good for me, oh love
~Anonymous
A Dream About a Co-Worker
I had a wonderful dream about a co-worker this morning! (No, not a sex dream, you wily things!) The reason the dream was wonderful is because normally, if I dream about co-workers, I dream about beating them up or seeing other bad things happen to them.
Yes, I work things out in my dreams. Sue me.
This morning's dream was different . . . Not only was something bad not happening to the co-worker in question, but he was actually helping me out of a bad situation!
In my dream, I'm a paramedic with a partner. The partner is neither my real-life co-worker or anyone else I recognize. My partner and I are walking through the woods in winter with icicles hanging from tree limbs and snow on the ground, trying to find a lost child. There are others searching, too -- I can hear their voices in the distance. The situation is dire -- The child is presumed injured, and he's been missing for 12 hours.
Hurry. He'll freeze. Hurry. He'll die.
My partner and I move further apart. The voices in the distance become faint. I an quickly covering ground, my eyes sweeping back and forth across the ground. Seeking. Searching.
Hurry. He'll freeze. Hurry. He'll die.
Eventually, I realize I'm alone. I can't hear the others anymore. I stop moving. I look up. Clouds now obscure what little sunlight there was when we began, and a mist has begun to fall. Both conspire to eradicate all shadow and reduce visibility to maybe 25 yards. I've been looking at the ground so long that I've lost track of where I am. All I can see are trees, rocks, scrub. The wind increases, I stumble over nothing, and I realize that I tumbled out of the ambulance without my coat.
I'm cold. Too cold. Waaaaaay too cold.
I stop, close my eyes, and take stock of my physical condition. Violent shivering slowing as I focus on it. Exposed skin beginning to tingle. Arms and legs stiff. I manage to jam the back of my hand into my neck hard enough and long enough to warm up both pieces of skin without blocking blood flow to my brain, then I take my carotid pulse with the back of my hand. Slow. Irregular.
The adrenaline kept me from realizing.
I call out to my partner, to anyone. No response. I call louder. No response. I reach for my radio. I find the holster empty. Left behind? Lost? Doesn't matter. I am out of sight of everyone else, and I am out of sight of where we began. I could be miles from anything or anyone. My shivering has stopped completely.
Hypothermia.
I scan the area for . . . What? What the hell was I just looking for? Possible sources of shelter, that's it. I try to say "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dogs" out loud. I can't recognize what comes out of my own mouth. Maybe better after a nap.
Can't think. Can't speak. Exhaustion. Trouble.
I scan the area again, and this time I notice a copse of trees that I hadn't noticed before. I trudge towards them. Walking has never been so difficult. Breathing is difficult. I'm weaving and stumbling, all but throwing myself forward. I don't even really feel so cold anymore.
Trees. Maybe shelter. Trees. Out of options. Trees.
Fifty feet from the trees, I notice some boulders inside. Twenty five feet from the trees I realize there's at least two feet of ground coverings -- pine needs, leaves, etc.
Between rocks. Break wind. Cover leaves. Maybe warm enough.
Ten feet from the trees, I stumble, fall, can't get up. Prone, on my stomach, too stiff to stand, looking at the trees.
Oh, well. Nap time.
As I close my eyes, someone steps from the trees and moves towards me. An unknown time later, someone is dragging me. I open my eyes and see my real-life co-worker! Even in my degraded mental state, I know he's not supposed to be here . . . That he's from a different . . . Place? Life? Universe?
It's okay, I've got you now. You're going to be okay.
Drag. Drag. Smack! My head hits a rock. I don't think he noticed. Drag. Drag. Drag. I try to help by pushing on the ground with my feet, but I doubt this is helpful. My eyes close again. Drag. Drag.
Here, can you crawl? I can't push you. In there, can you crawl under there?.
I open my eyes again and see a pile of leaves . . . so large compared to me on the ground, but not even as tall as his chest. I flop and flail, trying to make my arms and legs move, trying to burrow into the pile of leaves. With his pushing and my flailing, I eventually make it into the piles of leaves. The leaves are apparently covering two large rocks, and he pushes me in between them. He burrows inside the pile of leaves with me. I realise that behind me a something thick and fabricky -- A blanket? A coat? A piece of fluffy cloud? He pulls it around me, pulls me to his chest.
It's okay, you''ll be okay, they're already looking for us.
Slowly I realize that we are cheek-to-cheek, that he is wearing a heavy winter coat, and that it is unzipped. The fronts of our bodies are firmly in contact from head to feet. He's pulled the other blanket/coat around me and has pulled its edges around us over the top of his own, creating a cocoon around us. I realize that the steady drumbeat that I had thought was my own blood in my ears is actually his whispered voice.
It's okay, we'll be okay. It's okay, we'll be okay. It's okay, we'll be okay.
Time passes. My brain begins to start working again. Eventually we hear my partner calling my name. I crawl out from under the leaves. I'm still clutching the fabricky thing. My partner is there when I finish crawling out of the pile, oddly looking past me towards my co-worker with an unfriendly look. Oh, my God, the kid!
How about the kid? Did they find him?
Well yeah, but what the hell happened to you? And who's jacket is that?
I smile and look towards my real-life co-worker, but he's nowhere to be seen. I realize that my partner was looking at me oddly, not at my real-life co-worker. I'm standing there, clutching a winter coat I don't recognize, having just crawled from a leaf pile I didn't construct, and wondering who or what just saved my life.
The dream ends here.
And I was real-life grateful this morning to see my real-life co-worker when I got to the office!
~Riot.Jane
Yes, I work things out in my dreams. Sue me.
This morning's dream was different . . . Not only was something bad not happening to the co-worker in question, but he was actually helping me out of a bad situation!
In my dream, I'm a paramedic with a partner. The partner is neither my real-life co-worker or anyone else I recognize. My partner and I are walking through the woods in winter with icicles hanging from tree limbs and snow on the ground, trying to find a lost child. There are others searching, too -- I can hear their voices in the distance. The situation is dire -- The child is presumed injured, and he's been missing for 12 hours.
Hurry. He'll freeze. Hurry. He'll die.
My partner and I move further apart. The voices in the distance become faint. I an quickly covering ground, my eyes sweeping back and forth across the ground. Seeking. Searching.
Hurry. He'll freeze. Hurry. He'll die.
Eventually, I realize I'm alone. I can't hear the others anymore. I stop moving. I look up. Clouds now obscure what little sunlight there was when we began, and a mist has begun to fall. Both conspire to eradicate all shadow and reduce visibility to maybe 25 yards. I've been looking at the ground so long that I've lost track of where I am. All I can see are trees, rocks, scrub. The wind increases, I stumble over nothing, and I realize that I tumbled out of the ambulance without my coat.
I'm cold. Too cold. Waaaaaay too cold.
I stop, close my eyes, and take stock of my physical condition. Violent shivering slowing as I focus on it. Exposed skin beginning to tingle. Arms and legs stiff. I manage to jam the back of my hand into my neck hard enough and long enough to warm up both pieces of skin without blocking blood flow to my brain, then I take my carotid pulse with the back of my hand. Slow. Irregular.
The adrenaline kept me from realizing.
I call out to my partner, to anyone. No response. I call louder. No response. I reach for my radio. I find the holster empty. Left behind? Lost? Doesn't matter. I am out of sight of everyone else, and I am out of sight of where we began. I could be miles from anything or anyone. My shivering has stopped completely.
Hypothermia.
I scan the area for . . . What? What the hell was I just looking for? Possible sources of shelter, that's it. I try to say "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dogs" out loud. I can't recognize what comes out of my own mouth. Maybe better after a nap.
Can't think. Can't speak. Exhaustion. Trouble.
I scan the area again, and this time I notice a copse of trees that I hadn't noticed before. I trudge towards them. Walking has never been so difficult. Breathing is difficult. I'm weaving and stumbling, all but throwing myself forward. I don't even really feel so cold anymore.
Trees. Maybe shelter. Trees. Out of options. Trees.
Fifty feet from the trees, I notice some boulders inside. Twenty five feet from the trees I realize there's at least two feet of ground coverings -- pine needs, leaves, etc.
Between rocks. Break wind. Cover leaves. Maybe warm enough.
Ten feet from the trees, I stumble, fall, can't get up. Prone, on my stomach, too stiff to stand, looking at the trees.
Oh, well. Nap time.
As I close my eyes, someone steps from the trees and moves towards me. An unknown time later, someone is dragging me. I open my eyes and see my real-life co-worker! Even in my degraded mental state, I know he's not supposed to be here . . . That he's from a different . . . Place? Life? Universe?
It's okay, I've got you now. You're going to be okay.
Drag. Drag. Smack! My head hits a rock. I don't think he noticed. Drag. Drag. Drag. I try to help by pushing on the ground with my feet, but I doubt this is helpful. My eyes close again. Drag. Drag.
Here, can you crawl? I can't push you. In there, can you crawl under there?.
I open my eyes again and see a pile of leaves . . . so large compared to me on the ground, but not even as tall as his chest. I flop and flail, trying to make my arms and legs move, trying to burrow into the pile of leaves. With his pushing and my flailing, I eventually make it into the piles of leaves. The leaves are apparently covering two large rocks, and he pushes me in between them. He burrows inside the pile of leaves with me. I realise that behind me a something thick and fabricky -- A blanket? A coat? A piece of fluffy cloud? He pulls it around me, pulls me to his chest.
It's okay, you''ll be okay, they're already looking for us.
Slowly I realize that we are cheek-to-cheek, that he is wearing a heavy winter coat, and that it is unzipped. The fronts of our bodies are firmly in contact from head to feet. He's pulled the other blanket/coat around me and has pulled its edges around us over the top of his own, creating a cocoon around us. I realize that the steady drumbeat that I had thought was my own blood in my ears is actually his whispered voice.
It's okay, we'll be okay. It's okay, we'll be okay. It's okay, we'll be okay.
Time passes. My brain begins to start working again. Eventually we hear my partner calling my name. I crawl out from under the leaves. I'm still clutching the fabricky thing. My partner is there when I finish crawling out of the pile, oddly looking past me towards my co-worker with an unfriendly look. Oh, my God, the kid!
How about the kid? Did they find him?
Well yeah, but what the hell happened to you? And who's jacket is that?
I smile and look towards my real-life co-worker, but he's nowhere to be seen. I realize that my partner was looking at me oddly, not at my real-life co-worker. I'm standing there, clutching a winter coat I don't recognize, having just crawled from a leaf pile I didn't construct, and wondering who or what just saved my life.
The dream ends here.
And I was real-life grateful this morning to see my real-life co-worker when I got to the office!
~Riot.Jane
The Google Suggest Crystal Ball - US vs. Germany Edition
We previously briefly discussed the Google Suggest choices to complete "why do women" :
 |
| http://www.google.com/ (United States Google) |
What many people don't know is that Google has various landing pages and returns different results depending upon the origin country of the Internet connection used to query it. So, by default, my machine loads http://www.google.com/ because I am in the United States.
In the UK, for example, the address is www.google.co.uk, for Japan: www.google.co.jp, for Indonesia: http://www.google.co.id/, and for Germany: www.google.de, etc. You can type these in or find them by, ahem, Googling the word Google and the country in question (such as Google Indonesia).
I find interesting the comparison between the Google Suggest choices, when returned by Google US and Google Germany, for the same phrase "why do women":
US Google users seem to have a negative view of the female character in general (lying, nagging, and two references to cheating as well as a shot at abused women) while concurrently focusing on their physical attractiveness (facial hair, thongs, and baldness).
German Google users seem to have different and less judgmental cultural views of women than US Google users, with only one reference to cheating in common with the US but also an observation of a gender difference regarding fashion and the observation of openly-displayed female homosexuality being more common than male homosexuality (something I've seen referenced in other places with regards to Western culture).
I've never lived in Germany, travelled there, or know anyone from there, so all I can do is wonder if this is really an accurate representation of the overall German culture or simply that of German Google users. Just because Google is ubiquitous here in the US, and US Google users are representative of the wider culture, are these things the same way in Germany? And what types of German people are online? Is it almost everyone not in abject poverty, as it is here? These are things I don't know, so I can't guess if German Google Suggest is at all representative of overall German culture.
I hope the reader Stuttgartgirl who commented on the Sex Boxen post reads this and can offer input on German vs. US cultural attitudes towards women.
Hell, I hope anyone with input shares it! :-)
~Riot.Jane
A Letter to an Old Friend
Writing this is difficult for me . . . Please forgive me if my style is not up to its usual standard. I am having difficulty catching hold of the pieces of plastic lawn furniture blowing around within the squall line crossing my mental landscape, the pieces of a mostly-forgotten past that have taken flight during the storm. The storm that was unintentionally birthed by an e-mail from an old friend.
How, oh how, do I respond?
The longer I wait, the more severe the storm becomes. The longer I wait, the higher the bar over which I must jump. The longer I wait, the better the response much be, as she's wondering WTF. The longer I wait, the more dishonor I do her, a dishonor she in no way deserves.
How, oh how, can I respond when all I can do is shelter in place?
We spent our high school years in neighboring fishing villages turned white-trash meccas on an oceanic bay in the American South. Kindred spirits in adolescent angst, we partnered against the world to the best of our immature ability. We were a duo too intelligent for our own good, far more maladjusted than we could understand, and creatively self-destructive in our desperate search for the cosmopolitan we knew must lay outside our redneck environs.
So many years later, I now know what fueled our different but compatible brands of insanity, but at the time we propped each other up in sisterly affirmation that everyone else was the problem. She was the first woman with whom I fell in love, and finding out that I was the same for her would not surprise me.
She went away to college and broke my heart. My road trips there and hers home only strung out the heartache. Even though I was in the bridal party, I don't remember if she married before or after graduation. I just know that the last time I saw her was at my mother's wake 13 years ago. I knew at the wake that I was leaving my youth behind. That was another heartbreak - Saying goodbye to my mother and to my dear friend at the same time.
She has since divorced and "come out", I've been diagnosed with a handful of sleep disorders. So many things explained, a world of wisdom opened to me.
I tell you these things so that she can see us both in these words. So that there is no possible mistake . . . So that she knows to whom I'm really speaking.
So long ago that I can't remember when, I made contact with a mutual friend of ours. "What the hell ever happened to you, anyway?" she innocently asked, "We all thought you were going to be the next Great American Writer."
The plain speech that made me love her so when we were young was now an innocently-shot arrow through my sense of self. I've not been able to bring myself to speak to her again . . . And this is a large part of why I can't speak to the one I need to now.
There are reasons I haven't achieved the success we thought I would. I could describe them, but they taste like excuses that my pride forbids me to offer. I feel like a failure because I didn't turn into the person that I envisioned, and the most difficult part of this is offering that knowledge to a person whose opinion matters, dear God, more than it should all these years later.
I think her judgment still matters so much because we dreamed those dreams together, because she was so much a part of why I aspired to who I aspired to be. Failing just myself is bad, but realizing that I haven't lived up to the expectations one who was so much a part of me opens a new dimension of horror and shame.
Her letter recently arrived. I waited as long as I could, then wrote a few noncommittal words in return. And then nothing. For weeks. She deserves better.
All I can offer is this post in way of explanation, in way of apology. Forgive me.
~Riot.Jane
How, oh how, do I respond?
The longer I wait, the more severe the storm becomes. The longer I wait, the higher the bar over which I must jump. The longer I wait, the better the response much be, as she's wondering WTF. The longer I wait, the more dishonor I do her, a dishonor she in no way deserves.
How, oh how, can I respond when all I can do is shelter in place?
We spent our high school years in neighboring fishing villages turned white-trash meccas on an oceanic bay in the American South. Kindred spirits in adolescent angst, we partnered against the world to the best of our immature ability. We were a duo too intelligent for our own good, far more maladjusted than we could understand, and creatively self-destructive in our desperate search for the cosmopolitan we knew must lay outside our redneck environs.
So many years later, I now know what fueled our different but compatible brands of insanity, but at the time we propped each other up in sisterly affirmation that everyone else was the problem. She was the first woman with whom I fell in love, and finding out that I was the same for her would not surprise me.
She went away to college and broke my heart. My road trips there and hers home only strung out the heartache. Even though I was in the bridal party, I don't remember if she married before or after graduation. I just know that the last time I saw her was at my mother's wake 13 years ago. I knew at the wake that I was leaving my youth behind. That was another heartbreak - Saying goodbye to my mother and to my dear friend at the same time.
She has since divorced and "come out", I've been diagnosed with a handful of sleep disorders. So many things explained, a world of wisdom opened to me.
I tell you these things so that she can see us both in these words. So that there is no possible mistake . . . So that she knows to whom I'm really speaking.
So long ago that I can't remember when, I made contact with a mutual friend of ours. "What the hell ever happened to you, anyway?" she innocently asked, "We all thought you were going to be the next Great American Writer."
The plain speech that made me love her so when we were young was now an innocently-shot arrow through my sense of self. I've not been able to bring myself to speak to her again . . . And this is a large part of why I can't speak to the one I need to now.
There are reasons I haven't achieved the success we thought I would. I could describe them, but they taste like excuses that my pride forbids me to offer. I feel like a failure because I didn't turn into the person that I envisioned, and the most difficult part of this is offering that knowledge to a person whose opinion matters, dear God, more than it should all these years later.
I think her judgment still matters so much because we dreamed those dreams together, because she was so much a part of why I aspired to who I aspired to be. Failing just myself is bad, but realizing that I haven't lived up to the expectations one who was so much a part of me opens a new dimension of horror and shame.
Her letter recently arrived. I waited as long as I could, then wrote a few noncommittal words in return. And then nothing. For weeks. She deserves better.
All I can offer is this post in way of explanation, in way of apology. Forgive me.
~Riot.Jane
Choosing to Grow Young
I choose to grow young, not old.
I've been intrigued with, attracted to and dating men considerably younger than myself for a quarter of a century. Twenty five years ago the stigma was much more intense than it is now. In my mid-fifties, when I told my mother I was dating a man 20 years my junior, she had a cow! I learned to never bring the subject up with her again.
Back in the day, we had no terminology, catchphrases or labels. We were simply older women who were drawn to younger men. I broach the subject in my book, Sexy In Your 60s, How You Can Naturally Reverse The Aging Process & Rejuvenate Your Life, and blog, www.SexyInYour60s.com, which focus on the health of our body, mind and spirit. I share with others, women especially, what's hindered and helped me over the years, things that keep me young at heart and reversing the aging process.
What can I say? I'm a woman who chooses to grow young, not old. My lust for life attracts younger men and that doesn't seem to be waning with age. Quite the opposite. The older I get the more curious they are. They pick my mind, sometimes I feel like Dear Abby. Recently I joined some Cougar/Cub sites to get a finger on the pulse. I've belonged to other date sites and always draw younger men, but not sites that are subject specific. The resounding welcome and dialogue has been fascinating and prompted me to do some research and writing of my own.
The so-called Cougar/Cub phenomenon as many know, is not new. In my book I explore the goddess cultures, go back thousands of years and guess what? Younger men and older women were an item then just as they are now. Regardless, I'm having a difficult time calling myself a Cougar. This excerpt speaks for me:
Not one to embrace the ‘Cougar’ image, I find the explanation confining and not in keeping with a truly seasoned woman, a crone. Ego need not play a part and while every woman reaps the rewards of honoring her body, the body needn’t be the sole reason to attract men, men of any age. Nor do I adhere to the inference that older women are always on the prowl, not able or interested in long term relationships. I believe that women have choices and to categorize us is counter-productive.
A crone is a woman in her third phase of life; maiden/virgin, mother, crone. A postmenopausal woman. I use the book as a platform because the crone stage is the most astounding, powerful, time of a woman's life. According to the ancients, the crone comes into her mastery on all levels including her sexual mastery. Such a hush-hush taboo subject; older women and sexuality. My friend and mentor, Dr. Linda Savage, was instrumental in awakening me to this part of myself. Her expertise flows all through my book. Savage's book, Reclaiming Goddess Sexuality:The Power of the Feminine Way takes us back into history and reminds us the ancient woman-positive cultures have a message about sexuality that we can learn from today.
On the Internet I found amazing forward-thinking women who have websites and blogs that depict their take on the Cougar/Cub movement. Dr. Fayr Barkley, CEO of www.CougarInternational.com caught my attention with her empowering and informative articles. Dr. Fayr mirrors my old school/young school mindset. She brings into focus those things that serve us and points out those that don't. She does women and men a great service by acting as a role model that speaks to the awesomeness of womanhood. I've become one of her biggest fans and am an active participant on her website.
Another woman, Linda Franklin, her website www.TheRealCougarWoman.com , and author of
Don't Ever Call Me Ma'am, impressed me with her life experiences. She too is empowering women and mirrors my opinion that regardless of our age, we are never too old to try or do something different. No one could have told me I would publish my first book at 64, or, for that matte,r speak out about my lifestyle as it pertains to younger men. Like Ms. Franklin, I encourage women to reach for their dreams and not let social dogma get in their way.
Dawn Marie Ellison, founder of www.CougarandtheCub.com, caught my attention. She sees the cougar/cub relationship as "a spiritual, emotional and sensual connection and not merely sexual." Ellison's comment speaks worlds. The ancient cultures teach the balance of the sexual and the spiritual. In Pagan Society there was no rift between Spirituality and Sex. Both were seen as true and vital forces, dancing in beautiful symmetry.
Regardless what we choose to call ourselves; kittens, pumas, cougars, cleos or just women, the key to it all is to stand as role models for the young people, acting responsibly and with integrity. The reality show mindset the media sells our children and grandchildren doesn't always represent the positive side of life. Much of it is based on dysfunctional conditioning that doesn't serve anyone. It's up to us as women, cougars or not, to set the bar for those who learn from our actions; the children.
~ Joan M Bunney
Author, Speaker, Advocate for Social Change
www.sexyinyour60s.com
I've been intrigued with, attracted to and dating men considerably younger than myself for a quarter of a century. Twenty five years ago the stigma was much more intense than it is now. In my mid-fifties, when I told my mother I was dating a man 20 years my junior, she had a cow! I learned to never bring the subject up with her again.
Back in the day, we had no terminology, catchphrases or labels. We were simply older women who were drawn to younger men. I broach the subject in my book, Sexy In Your 60s, How You Can Naturally Reverse The Aging Process & Rejuvenate Your Life, and blog, www.SexyInYour60s.com, which focus on the health of our body, mind and spirit. I share with others, women especially, what's hindered and helped me over the years, things that keep me young at heart and reversing the aging process.
What can I say? I'm a woman who chooses to grow young, not old. My lust for life attracts younger men and that doesn't seem to be waning with age. Quite the opposite. The older I get the more curious they are. They pick my mind, sometimes I feel like Dear Abby. Recently I joined some Cougar/Cub sites to get a finger on the pulse. I've belonged to other date sites and always draw younger men, but not sites that are subject specific. The resounding welcome and dialogue has been fascinating and prompted me to do some research and writing of my own.
The so-called Cougar/Cub phenomenon as many know, is not new. In my book I explore the goddess cultures, go back thousands of years and guess what? Younger men and older women were an item then just as they are now. Regardless, I'm having a difficult time calling myself a Cougar. This excerpt speaks for me:
Not one to embrace the ‘Cougar’ image, I find the explanation confining and not in keeping with a truly seasoned woman, a crone. Ego need not play a part and while every woman reaps the rewards of honoring her body, the body needn’t be the sole reason to attract men, men of any age. Nor do I adhere to the inference that older women are always on the prowl, not able or interested in long term relationships. I believe that women have choices and to categorize us is counter-productive.
A crone is a woman in her third phase of life; maiden/virgin, mother, crone. A postmenopausal woman. I use the book as a platform because the crone stage is the most astounding, powerful, time of a woman's life. According to the ancients, the crone comes into her mastery on all levels including her sexual mastery. Such a hush-hush taboo subject; older women and sexuality. My friend and mentor, Dr. Linda Savage, was instrumental in awakening me to this part of myself. Her expertise flows all through my book. Savage's book, Reclaiming Goddess Sexuality:The Power of the Feminine Way takes us back into history and reminds us the ancient woman-positive cultures have a message about sexuality that we can learn from today.
On the Internet I found amazing forward-thinking women who have websites and blogs that depict their take on the Cougar/Cub movement. Dr. Fayr Barkley, CEO of www.CougarInternational.com caught my attention with her empowering and informative articles. Dr. Fayr mirrors my old school/young school mindset. She brings into focus those things that serve us and points out those that don't. She does women and men a great service by acting as a role model that speaks to the awesomeness of womanhood. I've become one of her biggest fans and am an active participant on her website.
Another woman, Linda Franklin, her website www.TheRealCougarWoman.com , and author of
Don't Ever Call Me Ma'am, impressed me with her life experiences. She too is empowering women and mirrors my opinion that regardless of our age, we are never too old to try or do something different. No one could have told me I would publish my first book at 64, or, for that matte,r speak out about my lifestyle as it pertains to younger men. Like Ms. Franklin, I encourage women to reach for their dreams and not let social dogma get in their way.
Dawn Marie Ellison, founder of www.CougarandtheCub.com, caught my attention. She sees the cougar/cub relationship as "a spiritual, emotional and sensual connection and not merely sexual." Ellison's comment speaks worlds. The ancient cultures teach the balance of the sexual and the spiritual. In Pagan Society there was no rift between Spirituality and Sex. Both were seen as true and vital forces, dancing in beautiful symmetry.
Regardless what we choose to call ourselves; kittens, pumas, cougars, cleos or just women, the key to it all is to stand as role models for the young people, acting responsibly and with integrity. The reality show mindset the media sells our children and grandchildren doesn't always represent the positive side of life. Much of it is based on dysfunctional conditioning that doesn't serve anyone. It's up to us as women, cougars or not, to set the bar for those who learn from our actions; the children.
~ Joan M Bunney
Author, Speaker, Advocate for Social Change
www.sexyinyour60s.com
Letter of Support: "My Sun Went Out When He Said He Needs 'Time'"
We've decided to post a very long comment of support that Lolly.Jane left for Riot.Jane in response to My Sun Went Out When He Said He Needs "Time" . . .
My Dear Riot.Jane,
I have VERY LITTLE TIME either physically or emotionally to devote effort or even thought to anyone outside of my immediate view. I've had to take this view for a while now, as you well know, to stay sane.
That being said, despite the fact that you're not in my immediate view, I have thrown my entire support behind you and your BF because you are two people that I hold in very high regard.
You both are so brave and intelligent and honest in all things equally. You're both open minded. You both make me laugh with your honesty and bluntness, but also with your heart and soul and amazing senses of humor.
As I've mentioned before, your BF was unequivocally my inspiration to go back to college. And just in case I haven't mentioned it before, I consider you to be the most interesting and uncompromising voice of modern feminism that I've heard in years.
You both do talk fast, so it sets people in a place where they HAVE to listen. Ordinarily that would be the extent of someone, but YOU have something to say. That, and your writing is equally valuable, and well thought out.
(OK, personal admiration in the extreme, check...)
Now, your relationship has also been an inspiration to me - I think that it fully involved both of your best qualities to the extreme, and you are both so engaged beyond the distance. This is the sort of thing that I defend 300%, whether I have "time" to or not, because I feel that its good for you both, and a testament to the ability of something to survive beyond the barriers.
(relationship admiration, check...)
Sooooooo... let me put my money where my mouth is... if your boyfriend says that he needs time....well, that sucks great amounts of unpleasant things, but he wouldn't say that if he didn't mean it. He may be confused about the exact cause, but he would need the time to figure it out, and it sounds like he's asking for that.
So, yeah. Suckage in the extreme, but understandable. But here's the important part:
I am fully behind this decision despite it injuring my friend, Riot.Jane, but if I turn out to be wrong in my support, and this is frivolous, or bullshit or something, then I will withdraw my support from all things her BF. He may not be aware of it for years, it may never affect him, but I will make every attempt to be sure that he knows that I went from someone who would drive all night, and spend all my money to help him, to someone who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire.
You make think this unfair, but I am aware that I'm only getting one side of the story and I'm accounting for that. Be aware that, as much as I adore you, if he were to (God forbid) break up with you, and he had a VALID reason, I'd still support him. On the other hand, if he's bullshitting, he better make DAMN SURE I never find out.
I suffer enough fools in my life. I love you both because you're NOT the fools in my life, or if you're foolish, it's for valid reasons. In a way, I hold you both to a higher standard, I guess, because there's a level of honesty with you guys that I don't get with a lot of other people.
There are so many people (personally and professionally) that I have to be always nice with, and always hold my tongue; everything has to be put through a filter. I realize that this is self-imposed and based on my need to be liked and accepted, HOWEVER it can be EXHAUSTING. You try to be all things to all people, and you end up being nothing to anyone.
Being kind and filtering yourself is an effort you naturally make for biological family because you've the societal and ever-nurtured pressure to do so. Its an effort that you CHOOSE to make for friends; there's no more's to support it (quite the opposite in fact, if we're to believe the popular media. Close friends are always betraying each other - I just can't live like that!). I think it more valuable the older that I get, and you'll note that most of the people that I give that consideration to have been my friends for over a decade.
(But that's ME - I only bring it up to highlight why I will storm the gates of Heaven for you both.)
You both should feel free to talk to me for whatever you need. I am here for both of you, as I always have been. This roadblock sucks, but it is part of building relationships with people; I feel confident that both of you will emerge from this with a stronger relationship, whatever the outcome. So, I'm going to put my love and energy to getting you through the hurt and confusion of now, and into that stronger point - whatever is healthy and right for both of you. Be careful with each other's hearts, but be honest to your own. :-*
Oh, a note to your BF: Everything that I said about you, applies to Riot.Jane as well. I feel fairly confident that neither of your is capable or willing to engage in that level of prevarication, so I'm secure in my decision.
~Lolly.Jane
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My Dear Riot.Jane,
I have VERY LITTLE TIME either physically or emotionally to devote effort or even thought to anyone outside of my immediate view. I've had to take this view for a while now, as you well know, to stay sane.
That being said, despite the fact that you're not in my immediate view, I have thrown my entire support behind you and your BF because you are two people that I hold in very high regard.
You both are so brave and intelligent and honest in all things equally. You're both open minded. You both make me laugh with your honesty and bluntness, but also with your heart and soul and amazing senses of humor.
As I've mentioned before, your BF was unequivocally my inspiration to go back to college. And just in case I haven't mentioned it before, I consider you to be the most interesting and uncompromising voice of modern feminism that I've heard in years.
You both do talk fast, so it sets people in a place where they HAVE to listen. Ordinarily that would be the extent of someone, but YOU have something to say. That, and your writing is equally valuable, and well thought out.
(OK, personal admiration in the extreme, check...)
Now, your relationship has also been an inspiration to me - I think that it fully involved both of your best qualities to the extreme, and you are both so engaged beyond the distance. This is the sort of thing that I defend 300%, whether I have "time" to or not, because I feel that its good for you both, and a testament to the ability of something to survive beyond the barriers.
(relationship admiration, check...)
Sooooooo... let me put my money where my mouth is... if your boyfriend says that he needs time....well, that sucks great amounts of unpleasant things, but he wouldn't say that if he didn't mean it. He may be confused about the exact cause, but he would need the time to figure it out, and it sounds like he's asking for that.
So, yeah. Suckage in the extreme, but understandable. But here's the important part:
I am fully behind this decision despite it injuring my friend, Riot.Jane, but if I turn out to be wrong in my support, and this is frivolous, or bullshit or something, then I will withdraw my support from all things her BF. He may not be aware of it for years, it may never affect him, but I will make every attempt to be sure that he knows that I went from someone who would drive all night, and spend all my money to help him, to someone who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire.
You make think this unfair, but I am aware that I'm only getting one side of the story and I'm accounting for that. Be aware that, as much as I adore you, if he were to (God forbid) break up with you, and he had a VALID reason, I'd still support him. On the other hand, if he's bullshitting, he better make DAMN SURE I never find out.
I suffer enough fools in my life. I love you both because you're NOT the fools in my life, or if you're foolish, it's for valid reasons. In a way, I hold you both to a higher standard, I guess, because there's a level of honesty with you guys that I don't get with a lot of other people.
There are so many people (personally and professionally) that I have to be always nice with, and always hold my tongue; everything has to be put through a filter. I realize that this is self-imposed and based on my need to be liked and accepted, HOWEVER it can be EXHAUSTING. You try to be all things to all people, and you end up being nothing to anyone.
Being kind and filtering yourself is an effort you naturally make for biological family because you've the societal and ever-nurtured pressure to do so. Its an effort that you CHOOSE to make for friends; there's no more's to support it (quite the opposite in fact, if we're to believe the popular media. Close friends are always betraying each other - I just can't live like that!). I think it more valuable the older that I get, and you'll note that most of the people that I give that consideration to have been my friends for over a decade.
(But that's ME - I only bring it up to highlight why I will storm the gates of Heaven for you both.)
You both should feel free to talk to me for whatever you need. I am here for both of you, as I always have been. This roadblock sucks, but it is part of building relationships with people; I feel confident that both of you will emerge from this with a stronger relationship, whatever the outcome. So, I'm going to put my love and energy to getting you through the hurt and confusion of now, and into that stronger point - whatever is healthy and right for both of you. Be careful with each other's hearts, but be honest to your own. :-*
Oh, a note to your BF: Everything that I said about you, applies to Riot.Jane as well. I feel fairly confident that neither of your is capable or willing to engage in that level of prevarication, so I'm secure in my decision.
~Lolly.Jane
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