tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53748561560605407772024-03-05T11:04:49.496-05:00Phrases From The WallMarjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-2796787489390030332016-11-07T14:46:00.001-05:002016-11-07T22:26:54.990-05:00White Discussion<div dir="ltr">
The other day I watched an episode of Van Jones’ <a href="http://www.vanjones.net/the_messy_truth">The Messy Truth</a>, and an observation by one of the participants struck me very hard. He sat down for a discussion with four white women, in Gettysburg Pennsylvania, who are friends, but voting for different candidates. Two women were Trump voters, and the other two were not. <br />
During the discussion one woman said she would never vote for a Clinton. Van immediately asked her why. Before I go there. I want to mention that during the conversation these women discussed how at one time they, along with the rest of their community, got together to oust a bigoted school board president. They didn’t want a bigot in a position of authority over their schools, and their kids. And so they did what they believed was right, and had him removed. This begs the question: If you know that type of person is wrong for your schools, why would you think they are right to lead the nation? </div>
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One woman said she hoped Trump wasn’t really like how he's talked. She hopes, she said, that deep down, that’s not really who he is. Yeah, no. That’s exactly who he is, and that reason isn’t good enough to justify the double standard. The other Trump supporter echoed this, but cemented her position by stating that she’d never vote for a Clinton, at which point Van asked why. </div>
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Her response: “I was in the military.” She then proceeded to state that it was during the time of Bill Clinton’s presidency, under which military benefits were cut and she lost her dental coverage. Just let that sink in. She’d never vote for a Clinton, because her dental benefits were cut. She’s not a bigot. She’s not a racist, but she’d vote for a bigoted, racist man who has no respect for women, or the military, because under Bill Clinton’s presidency she lost her dental benefits. </div>
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This is the epitome of privilege, specifically white privilege, because Donald Trump isn’t attacking whites. He’s attacking PoC, specifically Latinxs & Muslims. He launched his campaign attacking Latinx immigrants. He called them criminals, drug dealers, and rapists. Since then he has consistently demonized them, and pit them against whites.<br />
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Angry, racist, and paranoid whites have bought wholesale into it. But let's be honest here, that's not a new narrative. Whites have always portrayed PoC as violent criminals. They have never stopped, and they never will. Any assertion that racism is not a motivating factor in this election is either denial or an obvious, intentional lie. </div>
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And yet here is this woman, who believes herself to be anything but racist or bigoted, but who has no reservations about voting for a man who denigrates women, demonizes PoC, and doesn’t pay taxes, because when Bill Clinton was the President she lost her dental benefits. You know why she lost her dental coverage? Because people like the man she’s voting for don’t pay their taxes. </div>
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Her position reflects that she believes her medical benefits are more important than other people’s lives. Donald Trump has vowed to repeal the Affordable Care Act, which would cut medical coverage for millions of people, but she’s fine with that. She’s fine with Donald Trump overturning a woman’s rights to make her own decisions about her own body, because it won’t affect her. She’s got no problem with Donald Trump’s plan to eliminate the minimum wage. Never mind that poor people, who earn minimum wage, despite working full time jobs, often cannot afford medical coverage, let alone dental.But she’ll never vote for a Clinton. I understand. Our vote is our voice, and we get to vote for whomever it is we wish. But we have to own that choice. We have to accept what that choice says and what it means.<br />
This woman and her friends say she's not a bigot. She’s not a racist. That may be, but it's very easy to be "not a racist" when your community is racially homogenous, and social challenges are limited to minor differences within that community. It's easy to be "not a bigot" when people whose sexual orientation, or gender identity aren't in direct contradiction to what you consider normal. It's entirely possible, that she's neither a bigot nor a racist, but she is a privileged white woman who likely has no idea what people outside of her community stand to lose under a Trump presidency, nor does she care. Not everyone who's voting for Trump is a bigot, or racist, or a misogynist, but Trump is all of those things, and any vote for him condones them.</div>
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Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-38730724777301388692013-07-04T23:24:00.000-04:002016-06-16T11:29:14.586-04:00Ain't That America?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Within the pedestal upon which our Lady Liberty stands, the following impassioned missive is engraved:<br />
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<pre><u><i>The New Colossus</i></u></pre>
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<pre><i>Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, The New Colossus tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"</i></pre>
<pre><i>~Emma Lazarus</i></pre>
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And is that not, what in our ideology, we esteem America to be. But is it thus in fact? I like to think so. I like to believe that on this day especially, that we are not so far from what we purport to espouse, to be that beacon of hope for those who would risk their lives for a chance at a better one. Here in the United States of America, we are not a perfect union, but we are trying. Every day there are those among us who struggle and fight to make it so. And while we might disagree on how to get there, or even what that perfect union actually is, we all agree that the opportunities we are afforded as Americans are among our nations greatest treasures. Our collective future is in our own hands and it is up to us to forge the best possible one. Maybe one day we'll get it right. I certainly hope we will because while I don't idolize my country, I do love it. And like all those things and people we love, I always only want the best for it, and for everyone. Happy Birthday USA, with Liberty and Justice, for ALL!</div>
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Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-42457486218518873422013-06-17T10:38:00.001-04:002016-06-16T11:30:38.211-04:00This is why we fight...<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">If you didn’t already know The NHL Stanley Cup Finals are under way. We are two games in and so far this series has delivered on its expectations, with both games requiring extra periods to determine a winner <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(2 ½<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in game 1 and 1 in game 2). In addition to the drama of sudden death overtime the series is tied, with Chicago taking game 1 and the Bruins making the Blackhawks remember what adversity is like in game 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This Cup Final is special for more than one reason; not the least of which is the fact that it’s being played by two Original Six teams, the Western Conference Chicago Blackhawks and the Eastern Conference Boston Bruins. The last time two Original Six teams faced off for Lord Stanley’s Cup was 34 years ago in 1979. Hockey fans love to make a big deal over Original Six matchups, especially if our team is involved, so the nostalgia aspect of this series is cranked way up. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also of interest is the fact that the Blackhawks finished the season with the best record in the league, winning 36 out of 48 games. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alternatively, Bruins owner Jeremy Jacobs, who was a driving force behind the lockout that robbed us of 34 regular season games, stands an annoyingly good chance of winning his second championship in 2 years. Each of the teams are recent Cup Champions with Boston claiming the title in 2011 and Chicago, one year prior.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Both teams are talent laden so you have your pick of players and narratives to follow. Currently, forwards Patrick Sharp of the Blackhawks and David Krejci of the Bruins are tied for the lead in playoff goals. This is one I’m particularly invested in. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another is Torey Krug, Boston’s rookie defenseman out of Michigan State who scored an eye-popping<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>4 goals in 5 playoff games. That’s right, I said defenseman. Also noteworthy; Blackhawks Captain Jonathan Toews, remains goalless which isn’t a major issue, but as the leader of the team it’s still of some import.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile, Bruins goaltender Tuukaa Rask is making goal tending in the Stanley Cup Finals look like child’s play, saving 92 of 97 shots in just the first two games. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If all that isn’t enough, consider that Bruins appearance in the Stanley Cup Finals gives the city of Boston, which recently suffered the tragedy at the Boston Marathon, another reason to be hopeful and happy and that’s something to feel good about. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As they like to say in hockey, the playoffs are a war of attrition and it continues<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">this week</span>, <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">with up to 5 more games left to be played in 2013</span>.</span> This matchup has been worth every second of extra time played. Hopefully, for the fans anyway, there will be more thrilling overtime wins, but as long as we get the best hockey by the best players in a season that almost wasn’t, we’re all kind of winning. <span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Games 3 and 4 will be played in Boston, and Chicago will need to take at least one. Faceoff for Game 3</span></span> tonight is at 8:00 p.m. Buckle up.</span><br />
<br />Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-66913665808053293372013-04-14T00:49:00.000-04:002016-06-16T11:21:20.139-04:00Hey Mr. Marl-Bo-ro Man...<br />
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When my dear departed friend Barbara
quit smoking several years ago she used to say to me sometimes, "I
want a cigarette so bad I could rip the lips off a kitten", and
I'd laugh at her because <i>WTF? That's crazy talk Barbara! Think of
your own cats ma'am!</i> LOL But seriously, it was especially funny
because Barbara was a total animal lover and all around wonderful
person who would never harm another living thing, and there she'd go
talking about disfiguring a baby cat for want of nicotine. Addiction
is hell.<br />
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Just to give you a little backstory
here, I've been prone to bronchitis for a while now and generally
come down with it a least once a year. Over the last couple of years
however, it's become more frequent and for a while I was afraid I
might have some sort of autoimmune lung issue. I might also be a
legitimate hypochondriac too, but that's another story.
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Anyway, this past December I took on
another bout of bronchitis. Well <i><a href="http://youtu.be/Nh7UgAprdpM">ain't nobody got time for that</a>, </i>so I went to the doctor straight away and as usual he suggested I quit smoking. Now normally when this happens I take a temporary
break from smoking. I can't taste the cigarettes so even if I might
crave one initially, there's no point to it. Then there's that whole
<i>smoking significantly impeding my reoccupation</i> thing, so
whatever. I'll just wait it out.
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I was never what you'd call a heavy
smoker as it was. One pack would generally last me 3 to 4 days, but I
guess when you're inhaling poison on a daily basis it's pretty much a
quality over quantity issue so I don't guess that really matters.
Well, today I'm here to tell you that it's been approximately 4
months since my last cigarette. If a year ago you had told me that I
would be off cigarettes I would have told you that quitters never
win, because I'm sarcastic and loved smoking.</div>
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I still kinda miss smoking though, and
some of the activities that generally accompanied it. For instance,
smoking while blasting Night Train by Guns N' Roses in my car and
feeling like a a bit of a rock star, (or what I like to imagine a
rock star might fee like whilst smoking in their car, rocking out to
GNR) I miss that. I miss chatting with my friend Barbara over
cigarettes and the occasional beer. I miss the rush of the nicotine
in my blood stream; and the glow of a cigarette in the dark and the
scent and the look of white tendrils of smoke curling up into the
night sky.</div>
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Still, in hindsight quitting smoking
has proved relatively positive. I don't squander $20 to $30 a week on
carcinogens. I pretty much quit drinking as well since I'd want a
cigarette if I did drink and since I don't have any cigarettes I'd
rather not drink. And finally, to date, I haven't had any
congestion/bronchitis issues, which is a huge relief in more ways
than one.
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When I started writing this I have to
say I really I wanted a cigarette so bad I could have ripped the lips
off my own cat. Fortunately for Viktor however, I remembered Barbara and how
she quit and started to write about it. I think my quitting and
writing about it is a good way to honor her memory and re-live a
little bit of our friendship that I miss so much. Thanks Barbara!
Thanks for saving Viktor's lips and for everything else.... </div>
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Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-9953398015668300172013-04-12T20:00:00.000-04:002016-06-16T13:42:35.272-04:00He's a cold hearted snake! Not Really.<br />
So if you didn't know, I'm fascinated with reptiles; snakes, iguanas, lizards, whatever. I've loved lizards, Carolina Anoles in particular, since I was a child. They are adorable and bright green and my older brother and I would catch them in the summers and put them in jars with grass and punch holes in the lids, for proper ventilation. We would never really keep them though. They were much too fun to contain. I loved holding them, however briefly, as they are very quick and not so much for being handled. I loved the feel of their little feet sticking to my skin and how they felt cool to the touch and rough and squishy and delicate all at once. Did I mention they are bright green and cute as hell? I mean look at that face. How could you resist it?<br />
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Well, I never could. I guess it's probably due in part to my love for these little guys (and dinosaurs! We can't forget the dinos!) that I've always been interested in reptiles. As such, it was no surprise that while I was on my way out of the PETCO yesterday, Fresh Step Extreme cat litter in my basket, my new phone resting obviously at the mouth of my purse, that I was captivated by a terrarium full of baby bearded dragons. Hold UP! Did someone say Dragons? </div>
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I know, I know. They're not the dragons of my dreams; gorgeous and majestic, immense magical beasts with indestructible scales, breath of fire and wingspan to block out the sun, but humor me. It's basically as close to one of those dragons as I'm ever likely to get. Curses! Plus, we don't have any of those little green beauties here in DC, not that I've ever seen, so I gotta get my lizard fix while I can, ya know? </div>
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So now about those baby dragons. As I was walking past the terrarium I noticed one looking at me and two more that appeared to be playing some sort of lizard tag. One was running from another that had the runners tail clasped firmly between it's jaws. There didn't appear to be any hostility going on, but who knows? Maybe they had beef. I stopped and stared and laughed out loud because, Hello? Is there anything cuter than baby anythings at play? No! </div>
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Not too far from <em>the players</em> I saw three other little guys relaxing on a rock, staggered one on top of the other. Can you say photo op? Word! And here's where I grabbed my phone and things got really interesting. </div>
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This fellow sees me. His comrades maintain relative disinterest. Playing hard to get eh? Hmph!</div>
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It appears that I finally have their attention as they have been holding mine for some time now. Reciprocity is awesome. </div>
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Bearded Dragons are described as being docile and social. Often they enjoy being handled and make excellent pets. Anyone see where this is going yet?</div>
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It appears <strike>we've</strike> I've drawn a crowd. These 2 chaps came to see what all the fuss was about. I'm sure they heard the clicking of the camera and now we've got a full on lizard lounge. How frickin' cute is <b><i>that</i>? </b>Worry not my friends. It's gets even cuter!</div>
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Despite their curiosity it seems that much like myself, their attention span isn't really all that and they begin to climb up on one another trying to get a glimpse of something else. Intriguing. </div>
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Squish.</div>
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Squish.</div>
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Gravity, For The Win!</div>
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This was the most fun I've had shopping in a while and that's saying something because I <b><i>love</i></b> shopping! The fact that they all toppled over and this guy came back to see what I was cackling over made it all the more hilarious! Needless to say, I'm sold on them and would love to have one for my very own one day. I shall call him Drogon and he shall be mine. And he shall be my dragon.</div>
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Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-80568254713884899442013-03-27T00:49:00.001-04:002016-06-16T11:33:53.601-04:00Three hundred seventy-nine miles...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm obsessed with his song writing and flaming red hair.</td></tr>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We never ever even tried<br />We never even talked<br />We never even thought in the long run...</span></i></span></i></blockquote>
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The other day in a moment of enamoured amusement I wanted nothing more than to talk to you about just how infatuated I've become with someone and how funny I found something he had said to me. You were the first person who came to my mind when I thought I wanted to share what I was feeling. It's almost always that way. When something good happens to me, or when it's something bad, often what I want the most is to be able to share it with you. I don't know how to stop that. I don't suppose it really matters though, because it's not like I'll ever share anything with you again. You're gone, forever. It sounds so pitiable if silly to say that, but it's accurate.<br />
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We're all <em>"How's It Going To Be</em>" and <em>"Losing A Whole Year"</em> now, even though it was much more than a year and much more than I even had to be able to lose. I lost so much. Whether or not it was good that I lost it is irrelevant because it still hurts like hell when I try to go to a place inside that we shared, only to find it hollowed out and cold. Maybe I should just be thankful that it doesn't burn me any more. I used to fight going there, but I gave that up long ago. I like to think that's because I've learned to pick my battles and have come to understand that when it's something that's part of me, fighting it only makes it worse. Now I just try to ride the storms. <br />
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I don't know why I can't go even one day without thinking of you, but I would love to, more than maybe anything else in this world. This doesn't mean that the thoughts are bad though. In fact they're quite often the most mundane and unremarkable of thoughts, and sometimes they even manage to fill me with the tiniest of lights. That is, until the realization comes back that they're pointless and ultimately unwelcome.<br />
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The pointlessness of it, I believe, is what causes me the most distress. I feel helpless, powerless to stop what's happening to me all over again, and for me there's no worse feeling in the world. I think you know why that is; and the idea that you know so much about me, what made me, because I let you, spins my head in circles until I feel like I'm back on the brandy. But that was back when I was what you became, and you were my liberation.<br />
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Maybe you're in love now or married, with children or maybe you're like me, cut adrift, but floating on the wind of an innocent fascination. Who's to say? I'll never ask. Now everything might be different about how I feel about you, but nothing is different about why. Your heart in my head and my head in your heart, well that was a dangerous entanglement, and you came to dwell in my soul. I think you still do. I'm afraid you always will. Maybe I will make that peace one day, but for now it remains a thistle.<br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><em><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><em><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><em><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Whenever it was painful<br />Whenever I was away I'd miss you<br />And I miss you...</span></em></span></em></span></em></span></em></blockquote>
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Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-50683174316174226002013-03-11T02:48:00.001-04:002016-06-16T11:37:35.512-04:00Irony. You're doing it wrong.<br />
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Earlier today I came across this picture in my news feed captioned simply as "cool". Feel free to facepalm at any time. I didn't bother to engage the person who shared it over her skewed perception, not because it's not my place (because let's be honest, that doesn't matter to me), but because this person is an adult. She's also a parent. This means that she's raising children. Marinate in that for a moment. Someone who is too thick to realize that this image is a direct mockery of all her "if you don't support our troops" bullshit propaganda spewing is the primary influence on another human being's thought process. Even if I were able to make her understand exactly what the intent of this image is, she would simply misunderstand why someone would make such a statement.<br />
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If you're not a parent, then you probably at least know some or at the very least have some and you know how parents can sometimes be. They have a tendency to behave as though they've cornered the market on knowing shit, as if parenthood has made them vastly superior in knowledge and understanding of the human experience to non-parents. They seem to dislike their belief systems, or their way of doing things being challenged even more so than non-parents. I'm not certain why this is, but it feels very much like they are attempting to perpetuate their ego through their children and they don't want you, or anyone else showing their kids another point of view.<br />
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Being a non-parent myself, I see this all the time and I have to tell you parents, it's annoying as all shit. I like to think of myself as open minded. I know that's not always the case, but I try. I actually think it's important to know what other people think, or know because I might be wrong about something and if you know me (which you probably do if you're reading this) then you know there's nothing I dislike more than being wrong. I want to be right and if that means that I have to change my perspective, or learn an ugly truth then that's what I have to do. Now I know you're thinking that I've gotten completely off track here, and to an extent I have, but I felt it was important to illustrate how I came to my conclusion about the person who got this ball rolling to begin with.<br />
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I didn't engage this person, this parent, about what's really going on with that picture of a tank covered in the logos of it's sponsors, because I'm not going to change her mind. She's an adult and she clearly put no thought into what this picture was actually saying. I can't get my head around that. I just can't understand why someone would see this and think "Hey, that looks neat. I think I'll share it with my friends because America, fuck yeah!", and honestly I can't say as I want to. If you think profiteering off of death and destruction is "cool" then I just feel sorry for you, and your kids.<br />
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<br />Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-9545296282444250892012-11-27T18:12:00.001-05:002013-04-14T02:32:05.905-04:00Gearing up for colder months<div>
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Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-48450431695845342592012-10-23T20:50:00.000-04:002013-04-13T00:52:15.834-04:00All in all you're just another brick in the wall...<br />
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So I'm walking into a store this evening, by myself, and from like 10 feet away this douche bag's like "How you doin'?" Tribiani-style. Really? How fucking dare you? I'm not fucking scenery. I'm not ornamentation. I'm not an inanimate object there for your observation and comment. I am a person. Just because I am a woman out of my home after 6:00 pm doesn't give a man the right to "holla" at me.</div>
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Now I know there are some people who would think <i>hey, just ignore it,</i> but, why should I have to? Why is it on me to ignore this asshole? If I had been with a guy this creep wouldn't have said one fucking word to me but, because I was alone he somehow felt entitled to not only leer at me, (which would have been bad enough) but also address me as well.</div>
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I don't <strike>always</strike> react well in stressful situations and perhaps for another person this occurrence might not evoke the same response but, to me, in no uncertain terms it feels like a violation. I'm so wound up right now it's difficult for me to even get this out and wtf man, all I wanted to do was pick up my prescription, come home and try to relax. Instead, I'm sitting at my table, heart racing, head pounding and praying that despite the fact that my shitty insurance scrip-blocked me, I'll actually be able to sleep more than thirty minutes tonight.</div>
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That's looking less possible as the minutes tick by though. I hate this. I hate feeling helpless and that in turn makes me angry. I am angry that this guy has made the anxiety that's been crushing me for the past few days that much worse. I want to lash out and scream and punch him in the face until his teeth are little more than a memory, because it wasn't enough for him to harass me once. This scum bag actually decided that my lack of a satisfactory response in the store warranted another round of cat-calling as I was walking back to my car.</div>
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What the FUCK??? I was in the store for at least 5 minutes after the first incident and while I waited in line and then spoke the the pharmacist I had this nagging fear that he was going to be waiting for me outside. I'll give him that he didn't physically approach me but, I can't be certain if that was because I basically ran to my car once I was out of the store or because there were other people around. I don't understand why more people don't realize that this is harassment and that it is not acceptable.</div>
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In a round-about hap-hazzard way what I'm getting at is this: Sometimes people are like "So you're a feminist? Are you a lesbian?" or "Oh you're a man hater". You know what? Get bent. I don't hate men. I'm not a lesbian. I'm a woman who believes that women are people and deserve to be treated with the respect and dignity you would afford a man simply because he is a human being. What I hate, is misogyny, rape-culture, victim blaming and feeling like I might need to carry a weapon in case I ever need to be out in public after sundown.</div>
<br />Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-27180194373560831382012-09-29T15:39:00.000-04:002012-09-29T15:40:48.936-04:00On Guy CodeYou have to be a real special kind of douche bag to equate some unspoken code of brotherhood honor with the deliberate concealment of behavior ranging from the questionable; to that which is indicative of a complete lack of integrity and sometimes, the most basic human decency.Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-1567346371315048412012-07-05T20:02:00.000-04:002013-04-13T00:53:32.706-04:00Other WomenSo today a friend of mine posted a statement, mostly rhetorical, that I couldn't resist commenting on. She said (I'm paraphrasing here) she's experienced lately that women have little to no respect for each other and that's why she limits her interaction with them. Immediately my stomach twisted into a knot and I felt my blood quicken. What!?! I'm so over women hating women. I'm not saying that's what she was doing and I'm not saying there's not some truth to what she said because that shit does happen but, disrespecting other human beings isn't an issue specific to women. What I am saying though, is that I'm not gonna let that shit ride in my presence. I'm going to defend myself and other women whenever I can, at the risk of alienating people or straight up pissing them off. I will not go gentle into that dark night. Not now, not ever again and so I responded thus...<br />
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<i>I have a lot to say on this topic. First of all, I want to point out, in case it's been overlooked, the irony that everyone who liked this or commented on this is a woman, IJS. Soooo, I totally understand where you're coming from with this but, I'm hoping you will also consider that statements like this are actually part of the problem. Why is it that women are so easily moved against one another? Well, theories abound but, consider this, we have been conditioned, since we were children, to regard other women, not as friends, mentors, confidants and comrades, but rather as rivals and even enemies. Why is that? How about a little strategy commonly known as Divide and Conquer (something to think about). Anyway, back to -since we were little. I grew up watching Disney movies, like most of us, and most of the kids today (and no doubt future generations to follow), but have you ever considered that none of those movies, aimed at little girls, depict any positive female relationships? Where are all the mothers? Why are the sisters evil-steps, and other female characters jealous and cruel with bad intentions? Ariel in The Little Mermaid has no mother but a gaggle of sisters. Still none of them are even remotely close to her or concerned for her. Instead, her best friends are Flounder and Sebastian. Belle - no mother, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White both victims of evil and conniving, jealous women who have absolutely no reason to dislike these girls and Cinderella tormented and abused by 3 other women. Really? What's all that about? And if those examples aren't enough we can always consult the Bible wherein we learn that a woman was the downfall of humanity. There's also Jezebel, Bathsheba, Delilah, Dinah and Lot's wife to remind us all that women are the problem. I'm not down. This is probably a post more suited to a blog but it's a subject very dear to my heart. I was raised by a single mother. I was raised in this patriarchal society that perpetuates misogyny and at one point in my life I bought all that crap about women, but if it's true about them, then it's true about me because I am a woman. I'm sorry but eff that B.S. My closest friends and the most reliable, kindest, most generous people in my life are and have always been other women. The problem isn't other women, because to some women "we" are those other women and I don't think any one of us would say, yeah, I'm a two faced bitch who's out to steal someone else's boyfriend or husband because I want what I want. Reality is that people, men and women, can and will be petty, and dishonest and cowardly and manipulative but, just like every bad boyfriend you ever had, they'll turn it around and tell you, "It's you, you're the problem". Don't believe them. </i></blockquote>
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Now this doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of how deep and insidious the problem of misogyny is in our society and it doesn't really do justice to how much I have to say on this subject. I will revisit it, frequently. It does however give me something to take a stand on, and I feel like I've needed something to take a stand on recently. Lately I've felt myself, my voice, cowering under the weight of my anxiety and I don't want that to happen. There are too many things I need to say. I'm always a feminist. I'm always going to combat misogyny where I see it and I needed to remind myself that me thinking this is not enough. I actually need to put it out there. I can't make a difference if I never do anything different, and neither can anyone else.Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-23523235785529374372012-06-24T22:27:00.000-04:002012-07-06T00:32:54.721-04:00Creepy Beautiful<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Sooooo I was at Home Depot today in the garden department and as I was standing in line to check out, I felt something on my foot. I'm very squeamish about bugs and stuff and I was kind of terrified that there was something crawling on my toes. I</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">didn't want to look. I just started kicking out, hoping whatever it was would fall off or fly off or that it was like a piece of paper or something... It wasn't though. When I felt it leave my foot I decided it was safe to look and it turns out it was this moth. Initially I was mortified because, hello! it was a moth, on my skin...but OMG...it's like freaking beautiful! I'd never seen this kind of moth before. This isn't my photo because I couldn't get a good picture of it but, wow... Amazing. Still, I never want one to land on me, ever again. ::shudder::</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bbOWu0N2Zv8/T-fLfRParuI/AAAAAAAAAFU/3vRuVQ5CnzE/s1600/Leopard_moth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bbOWu0N2Zv8/T-fLfRParuI/AAAAAAAAAFU/3vRuVQ5CnzE/s320/Leopard_moth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span></span></span>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-77263550325182538342012-06-22T15:21:00.001-04:002012-06-22T15:21:29.881-04:00FUCK YOU!!!<div><p>I am fucking sick to fucking death of stupid fucking douchebag men thinking that they not only know what's best for women, but also that they have the moral superiorty and legal justification to make our decisions for us! FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU ALL! We are goddamn sentient beings with our own bodies and and minds. We are NOT YOUR FUCKING PROPERTY!!!</p>
</div>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-87642552549457110422012-05-13T13:19:00.001-04:002013-04-14T01:58:20.325-04:00Happy Mother's Day from Viktor Paws!<div>
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Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-11391358751339076222012-05-05T02:39:00.000-04:002012-06-25T20:39:59.109-04:00Not Today<div>
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<span class="body"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">There is only one God. And his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: </span></i></span></blockquote>
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<span class="body"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Not today.</span></i></span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><cite><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">— Syrio Forel</span></cite></span></div>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-69328264381955211962012-04-20T17:38:00.001-04:002012-04-20T18:20:31.120-04:00Fucking Fight!<div>
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<br /></div>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-327844703416163962012-03-08T17:44:00.000-05:002013-04-13T03:21:13.880-04:00Ohhh they don’t like Jane<br />
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Soooo a while back, <a href="http://www.xojane.com/author/cat">Cat Marnell</a> over at <a href="http://www.xojane.com/">xoJane</a> wrote this ill-advised piece on <a href="http://planbonestep.com/index2.aspx">Plan B</a> and a total feminist flame war erupted over it and people were piling on about how irresponsible and stupid Cat was/is and everyone in those feminist journalism/blogosphere circles has already beaten this issue to death. I however, have not because I’m new. Anyway, the issue here isn’t <a href="http://www.xojane.com/healthy/get-it-together-girls-every-goddamn-pharmacy-new-york-out-plan-b-every-one">Cat’s post</a> but rather the fact that I love Jane. I do. I loved Sassy magazine. Sue me (Don’t really sue me though, because I don’t have anything, at all, and you’d be wasting your time and money for nothing, at all). Anyhow, so I love Jane. Right. Yes and Cat Marnell gets under my skin and I sometimes dislike her immensely but, feel strangely jealous of her at the same time but, maybe that’s why I dislike her so much. Maybe it’s less that I dislike what she says and more that I'm jealous that she’s able to say it that I find myself so conflicted about Cat. Maybe I wish I could do the same, and get paid for it or maybe I think she’s an entitled ditz and it bothers me that people might take her seriously. I just don’t know. UGH! Kills me.<br />
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You see, on one hand I think she’s horrifically irresponsible by talking so freely about her super unhealthy lifestyle but, on the other hand I feel like, whatever, it’s honest and regardless of whether or not we like it or not, there are all different kinds of people in the world and we need the exposure to them. We need the exposure to different personalities and cultures because we need to be more tolerant as a society, but not just more tolerant, we need to be more educated, more compassionate, more understanding. We need to stop sweeping issues we don’t like, or don’t approve of or are afraid our kids will hear or see and be tempted by, under the rug. That’s how a lot of the shitty things that happened to me as a kid happened to me, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to throw a blanket over shitty things so people can pretend they’re not happening and risk those things happening to someone, particularly a child, that I love. I will not be silenced, not ever again, but I digress.<br />
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I love Jane and Sassy and people being themselves at the risk of alienating people because that’s what I do, or what I like to think I do. I don’t want to censor myself because life does that enough for us. It takes away our voices and says this speaks for me and it labels us and says…”we are this way and not that way” but that, my friends is crap and now we come to the pay-off. Today I was researching <a href="http://www.xojane.com/author/jane">Jane Pratt</a> because it's International Women's Day and she is one of my feminist icons and I happened upon a rather disparaging post about Jane regarding Cat’s Plan B post.<br />
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They don’t like Jane. Jane is apparently self-involved, self-important, ego-maniacal, etc. (I don’t personally know Jane or Cat so I can’t confirm or refute any of these allegations). Anyway, all these negative traits were suggested because she, Jane, did not apologize they way they wanted her to, for Cat’s post. What? Yes, Jane is the EIC. Yes Jane has final say on what Cat publishes, but that does not make her Cat’s momma. Even if it did, Cat is an adult. She is an adult who has a platform to share whatever it is she feels like sharing, and it is up to us as adults to take some or none of what she has to say and disseminate it how ever we choose.<br />
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And for this, if nothing else, I love Jane. I love that there is a woman who has inspired so many women to say things, any things that make them feel any bit of any thing in a public forum. I like that she’s been able to provide women, even women who often seriously offend me (see <a href="http://www.xojane.com/author/daisy">Daisy</a>) a place to be heard, because like it or not, Jane has an audience. I am a part of it and at the risk of alienating people myself, I’m proud of that.<br />
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Happy International Women’s Day!!!Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-8181492510055065302012-03-04T13:11:00.000-05:002013-04-13T03:24:30.393-04:00Teach your children well.<br />
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I am not a parent. Parenthood is not something I've ever felt I was
cut out for, nor was it something I believed would be rewarding for me,
or any unfortunate child who might find me to be his or her own parent.
But I have thoughts though. I have thoughts and opinions on various
types of parenting. I am who I am.<br />
<br />
Here's a thought:
Before it's too late, be sure to teach your kids that not "everyone else
is doing it". I can't tell you how many times that phrase was tossed
around when I was a kid, by other kids. But like kids will do, in a time
that they're trying to find their place in the world and find out who
they are in that place, kids bluff. They say more than they understand.
They act over their heads and they pretend that they're much more
sophisticated than they really are.<br />
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Not everyone one is
doing it. In fact I'd venture to say that even less than half of those
that are saying they are, are not. And by "it" I don't just mean sex. I
mean that too, but I mean drinking, drugs, partying every weekend,
stealing their parents cars and joyriding around town, clubbing,
whatever all the cool kids are doing.<br />
<br />
Tell them...
often...that this is simply not true. Tell them because you know. Or
tell them because you learned the hard way or tell them because you know
that little punk they've been blabbering on about lately is nothing
more than a scared, insecure kid trying to find someone to identify
with, or someone who might admire them, someone they can snow.<br />
<br />
Tell
them with compassion and without judgement or anger. Tell them that
they are loved and that even though they feel alone, there is someone
out there who feels exactly the same way but is too afraid or shy or
insecure to say so.<br />
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Tell them to feel that who they
are; whether shy and creative, or gregarious and spirited, or sullen and
quiet, or awkward and uneasy, is exactly who they are appreciated for.
Tell them to celebrate themselves, to love themselves and to find what
they love the most about themselves and share it...with the world. And
even if the whole world doesn't love it, or them...there will always be
someone who will.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i style="color: #eeeeee;">Wednesday, July 27, 2011 </i></span>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-15620901543788141032012-03-04T13:00:00.000-05:002013-04-13T00:15:39.214-04:00If you don't mind, leave...<br />
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<br />
Vaya<br />
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<br />
Who are you to tell our girls<br />
To leave home<br />
Unmarried, to not baby<br />
Our men, to not feed our families,<br />
To have ideas and thoughts<br />
Of not having children, of being<br />
Individuals and finding out<br />
Who <i>they</i> are?<br />
Because leaving is not for you.<br />
Leaving,<br />
Is for runaways and dads<br />
<br />
Who are you to dream<br />
Of leaving, when there is family<br />
And they need you<br />
To wash their socks<br />
And scrub their dirty minds<br />
Clean of the scent of you,<br />
Your chubby child’s legs,<br />
The sweetness<br />
They will pluck from you<br />
Don't you know?<br />
<br />
And if you leave,<br />
You might tell, you might talk<br />
Like they talk but tell nothing<br />
And no one, but the women<br />
Where their place is<br />
And what kind of pain they have caused them<br />
What kind of happiness<br />
They have cost them.<br />
It is more than they can afford<br />
<br />
You're no runaway<br />
It's too dangerous,<br />
Someone might hurt you.<br />
Did we not teach you<br />
That you don't know your name?<br />
You don't have one<br />
Unless it's given to you.<br />
Like permission, to speak<br />
This is not allowed<br />
<br />
And we have heard enough<br />
We are older, we are wiser<br />
And accepted our role<br />
Fulfilled the dreams of our fathers<br />
Protected their honour and sacrificed<br />
Our truths. We did that for you<br />
But you, take that tone<br />
Where is your shame<br />
That we nurtured so well,<br />
Our gift to pass down?<br />
Maybe it's better, if you go.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><abbr data-utime="1301623741" title="Thursday, March 31, 2011 at 10:09pm">Thursday, March 31, 2011</abbr></span></i></div>
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<br />Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-15072141814624552792011-01-10T21:20:00.003-05:002013-04-13T03:19:36.105-04:00I Started a Joke<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<i>"Shut up" I told her plainly.<br />
"Shut down!" She replied.<br />
"Sto-o-o-p!" I cried.<br />
"Go-o-o." she mocked.</i><br />
<i>"Dog" I said</i><br />
<i> "Cat" she called in return.</i><br />
<i>
"I hate you." I grumbled. To which she responded, with a smile, "I love you-u-u-u.". And here we fell about laughing.</i></div>
Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-25461170735039836782010-12-10T00:23:00.000-05:002010-12-12T20:47:33.105-05:00Maybe...<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jFFl0VBY3jc?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jFFl0VBY3jc?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-27654212617002374192010-12-09T23:54:00.006-05:002010-12-12T23:43:03.020-05:00<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><u><span style="font-size: large;">Cigarettes Burn</span></u></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's too bad that you don't know<br />
Well, too bad, too good<br />
The mark<br />
And how it's empty<br />
But full<br />
And how it stings<br />
And screams for more<br />
And wants and waits<br />
For another dab<br />
Another stab<br />
Of release<br />
Or freedom<br />
Or slavery </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For just one more</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
If it lingers </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">While it fades<br />
And how it bubbles and grays<br />
It goes black </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And white and pink<br />
And all these colors<br />
That lie inside </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Like lies inside<br />
This ring, this circle, this hole<br />
Like pits of hell<br />
Awake in hell<br />
And each time sleep sets in well,</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
It's too bad, too good,<br />
That you don't know<br />
Like I know</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Like I said "No"<br />
How much good can come</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">From an ember<br />
That ashes out<br />
What's all remembered<br />
As I brush away<br />
These flakes of fire</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And smoke from liars</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">To rub the sin </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">To out from in<br />
With a cigarette burn on skin.</div>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-18277901652062907362010-12-09T23:40:00.008-05:002012-03-04T21:52:53.070-05:00The Scrivener<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
I've just been silent<br />
For so long</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
I'd forgotten</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
That I can craft a simple statement </div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Into something<br />
Like a song</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
And bid the wind<br />
To dance in your ears</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
As I craft you a tale</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Of what it must<br />
Be like to be strong</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Sweet and sincere, </div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
The words tumble down</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Around you</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
And you can sleep</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
In the comfort of a thousand<br />
Soft syllables</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Cradling your closing<br />
Eyes, kissing each</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
With warm, delicate whispers</div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Musing of what could be</span>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5374856156060540777.post-14598453862793062582010-12-09T23:30:00.002-05:002013-04-13T03:25:51.186-04:00Rising<span style="font-size: small;">All at once and not without the same un-dramatic trappings my life had grown accustomed to, I was alone. Not, I supposed, palpably, for there were scores of names I knew and faces and shells and spirits all around me. Well wishers full of self supportive statements, mournful hollows and husks of individuals breathing in and out, feeling every bit of nothing like happiness but, in my head and in my heart. There where I’d spent so much time placating my dreams and fashioning the lives I planned to live; on sparkling sandy beaches or in shimmering sky scrapers or quaint obscure towns, down to the tiniest blades of grass, or thin crooked streams, babbling and cold, that ran behind the dark, cool and comfortable homes I had constructed for my gratifyingly child free futures, was where all my insignificance came to fester. </span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
I wondered, maybe, sometimes, when I would smell the smoke on my sweater or fingertips or in the mass of my hair, why I had become like all those hapless lovers of indolence, whose most productive hours were spent not earning the backbones of survival, but scraping out this un-unique tortured existence. Why was it so easy for me to be broken down? I wondered liltingly, and with the promise to myself of a more imperative and remonstrant soul search, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. But tomorrow never came, or if it did I was too busy packing up my yesterdays, looking them over to be sure they had been of adequate use or, if in fact, they were in need of recycling, to answer it’s call. <br />
<br />
You could never, and I was careful to remind myself of this, get them back, so I would hold them in my hands, fold and unfold, flip and turn and twist and wring them all out of shape and squish them cool and creamy, through the spaces between my fingers, the way a child assembles a mud pie, or a shy student attempts her first art class coil pot, mashing and molding and squeezing them back together.<br />
<br />
It was not because I believed so much in the yesterdays. I didn’t and there was no joy in them. At least, not in all of those sullied tales of misadventure and woebegone dreams long since devoured to the inky expanse of my nightmares, whose nature I am loath to describe. It is rather, that these were my companions in arms, the purveyors of my stability, the delicate tendrils that writhed and wound themselves together, weaving me safe passage through the precipitous darkness that surrounded me.<br />
<br />
I tried to pick up the rubble that had become my reality, the shards of my well crafted illusions and with each hoisting of myself back up and up again I began to feel a kind of warmth, a radiating heat gently enveloping me and glints and glimmers of light, bouncing off my fragmented world. The corners of my lips, I felt begin to turn as a flower toward the sun, waiting for the music to ring in my ears...</span>Marjoramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10816366948666793328noreply@blogger.com0