Freedom! Lakota Sioux Indians Declare Sovereign Nation Status
Threaten Land Liens, Contested Real Estate Over Five State Area in U.S.West Dakota Territory Reverts back to Lakota Control According to U.S., International Law
WASHINGTON, DC - December 20 - Lakota Sioux Indian representatives declared sovereign nation status today in Washington D.C. following Monday's withdrawal from all previously signed treaties with the United States Government. The withdrawal, hand delivered to Daniel Turner, Deputy Director of Public Liaison at the State Department, immediately and irrevocably ends all agreements between the Lakota Sioux Nation of Indians and the United States Government outlined in the 1851 and 1868 Treaties at Fort Laramie Wyoming.
The rest of the article is here
I want to say congratulations to the Lakota people. The obstacles they face out there are many and sometimes subtle. Imagine working for people that call you plains-nigger. Those are the people who would hire you if you go off the reservation to find a job. That is, if they would hire you at all. This leads to people being dependant on food subsidies. The food subsidies that the US Government (USG) sends to the Lakota are high in sugar. This would not mean much but for the fact that Native Americans have a much higher rate of Diabeties than the white population.
Diabetics shouldn't have high sugar food, it tends to end up in blindness and losing a foot or two then ultimately death. The average life expectancy for men on the reservation is 44 years old. That is the lowest life expectancy in the WORLD if you exclude HIV/AIDS. This is happening right here in America.
I can't describe very well what this means to me, someone who is of Cherokee descent. It is exciting and a little scary. I see this as another time for freedom but I also know that the US Government and especially this administration does not look kindly on uppity people. They prefer to have people quietly go into death.
I am praying that they have peace and hope and LIFE.
Here is the link to the Republic of Lakota webpage. http://www.republicoflakota.com/
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Injustice anywhere
So, I am reading this article, about how doctors are legally able to deny care based on their religious beliefs. The article gives the story of a woman who was raped by a man she knew. Then in the emergency room, after the rape kit, the exam and on the suggestion of the rape counselor asks the doctor for the morning after pill to prevent pregnancy. The doctor coldly refused saying "it is against my religion" and just leaves it there.
Later in the article they say this...
"Even under less dire circumstances than Boyer's, it's not always easy talking to your doctor about sex. Whether you're asking about birth control, STDs or infertility, these discussions can be tinged with self-consciousness, even embarrassment. Now imagine those same conversations, but supercharged by the anxiety that your doctor might respond with moral condemnation — and actually refuse your requests."
To which I snorted. Yes, I literally snorted, because I thought "welcome to my world."
You see, if y'all hadn't figured it out yet, I am a lesbian. I am a partnered L E S B I A N.
Wanna talk about discrimination? How about these statistics from Cancerpage.com...
76% of women do not tell their health care provider about their sexual orientation
almost 25% of lesbians avoid getting health care because of fear of a negative attitude on the part of the practitioner
and best of all...
"One study found that 45 percent of the gynecologist-members of the Gay and Lesbian Medical Association said they had observed colleagues giving their homosexual patients substandard care. Another survey found that 40 percent of doctors said they were uncomfortable with lesbian patients."
So, here we are... just proving that discrimination that started out just against we lesbians, is now spreading to all women. Where will it stop?
Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had it right when he said "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere"
Later in the article they say this...
"Even under less dire circumstances than Boyer's, it's not always easy talking to your doctor about sex. Whether you're asking about birth control, STDs or infertility, these discussions can be tinged with self-consciousness, even embarrassment. Now imagine those same conversations, but supercharged by the anxiety that your doctor might respond with moral condemnation — and actually refuse your requests."
To which I snorted. Yes, I literally snorted, because I thought "welcome to my world."
You see, if y'all hadn't figured it out yet, I am a lesbian. I am a partnered L E S B I A N.
Wanna talk about discrimination? How about these statistics from Cancerpage.com...
76% of women do not tell their health care provider about their sexual orientation
almost 25% of lesbians avoid getting health care because of fear of a negative attitude on the part of the practitioner
and best of all...
"One study found that 45 percent of the gynecologist-members of the Gay and Lesbian Medical Association said they had observed colleagues giving their homosexual patients substandard care. Another survey found that 40 percent of doctors said they were uncomfortable with lesbian patients."
So, here we are... just proving that discrimination that started out just against we lesbians, is now spreading to all women. Where will it stop?
Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had it right when he said "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere"
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Dad
Dad,
I want to start by telling you that I love you.
I wanted to talk to you tonight because I am concerned about you, mom and Christy. I have watched over the years how you have gotten worse with your drinking.
You are tearing yours, mine, mom’s and most importantly Christy’s lives apart with your drinking. You may not be aware of the damage you are doing when you drink. You most likely don’t remember the things you say or do when you drink, but dad, we do.
I do.
I remember nights not sleeping.
I remember angry yelling waking me up.
I remember blood on the wall and on the doorknob.
I remember screams in the night.
I remember ambulances and emergency rooms.
Do you?
I remember broken dishes
I remember broken promises.
I remember, all too well, beatings.
I know you remember yours from your own father.
You gave me a few too.
I also remember when I realized that my drinking was getting out of control.
Honesty time.
I remember realizing when my drinking had gotten out of control.
I remember my first day sober, and the second and the third.
Any many days after that.
I wish this for you.
I wanted to talk to you tonight about your drinking and how it is destroying everything that you hold dear.
Your wife
Your daughter
Your granddaughter
Yourself
I don’t know what memories you are running from when you drink.
I don’t know what feelings you are running from when you drink.
I do know that when I stopped running from them…
It was pretty miserable at first. I won’t lie. BUT, it was SO worth it. I wouldn’t trade sobriety for anything.
I will be honest. There are moments (and days sometimes) where I would really enjoy a bit of numb. I still have times where a shot of Vodka would taste really good.
But
Then, I ask myself, “but, would you want to go back to what you had before?”
I want to start by telling you that I love you.
I wanted to talk to you tonight because I am concerned about you, mom and Christy. I have watched over the years how you have gotten worse with your drinking.
You are tearing yours, mine, mom’s and most importantly Christy’s lives apart with your drinking. You may not be aware of the damage you are doing when you drink. You most likely don’t remember the things you say or do when you drink, but dad, we do.
I do.
I remember nights not sleeping.
I remember angry yelling waking me up.
I remember blood on the wall and on the doorknob.
I remember screams in the night.
I remember ambulances and emergency rooms.
Do you?
I remember broken dishes
I remember broken promises.
I remember, all too well, beatings.
I know you remember yours from your own father.
You gave me a few too.
I also remember when I realized that my drinking was getting out of control.
Honesty time.
I remember realizing when my drinking had gotten out of control.
I remember my first day sober, and the second and the third.
Any many days after that.
I wish this for you.
I wanted to talk to you tonight about your drinking and how it is destroying everything that you hold dear.
Your wife
Your daughter
Your granddaughter
Yourself
I don’t know what memories you are running from when you drink.
I don’t know what feelings you are running from when you drink.
I do know that when I stopped running from them…
It was pretty miserable at first. I won’t lie. BUT, it was SO worth it. I wouldn’t trade sobriety for anything.
I will be honest. There are moments (and days sometimes) where I would really enjoy a bit of numb. I still have times where a shot of Vodka would taste really good.
But
Then, I ask myself, “but, would you want to go back to what you had before?”
Friday, November 02, 2007
Driving, singing, life and death
Driving up to see a friend
a friend who is dropping the robe
Driving up with a friend
a best friend, through thick and thin, life and death
Driving along, realizing that it is time
time too soon
now waiting to hear
to hear of the passing
waiting
and praying
for
peace, comfort, strength
for all of us
who are waiting
__________________________________________
Songs of death
Songs of life
Songs sung
Songs listened to
Songs sung to sing the spirit home
Songs listened to for comfort
Wishing for the language I am just learning
To be able to put words to what my heart is singing
Standing quietly
Waiting and listening
To the song being sung to her
As she sleeps
__________________________________________
Courage and cowardice
Flip sides of the same coin
Standing at the door
Waiting to be let in
A silent prayer
Let me be worthy
Worthy of this honor
a friend who is dropping the robe
Driving up with a friend
a best friend, through thick and thin, life and death
Driving along, realizing that it is time
time too soon
now waiting to hear
to hear of the passing
waiting
and praying
for
peace, comfort, strength
for all of us
who are waiting
__________________________________________
Songs of death
Songs of life
Songs sung
Songs listened to
Songs sung to sing the spirit home
Songs listened to for comfort
Wishing for the language I am just learning
To be able to put words to what my heart is singing
Standing quietly
Waiting and listening
To the song being sung to her
As she sleeps
__________________________________________
Courage and cowardice
Flip sides of the same coin
Standing at the door
Waiting to be let in
A silent prayer
Let me be worthy
Worthy of this honor
Friday, October 19, 2007
Belief, Faith and Suspension of Disbelief
Any religion that demands that I ‘check my brain at the door’ is not for me. God gave me a brain and expects me to use it to the best of my ability. The brain is for more than basic needs. If it weren’t then it would not be as it is and we would not have been blessed with self-awareness.
This is not to say that I avoid faith or belief or even just the suspension of disbelief. All of these are very different than turning your brain off.
How about I explain…
Checking your brain at the door, to me, means you don’t question. You don’t question what you read or what is told to you by those in “authority”, either here on earth in the form of Pastors, Priests, Rectors, anyone in authority, or in Heaven. You don’t ask questions and you NEVER ask why. You are told to take everything that is given to you “on faith” or you are not a good Baptist, Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist, Mormon, whatever the flavor is. (I am limiting this to “Christian” beliefs because those are what I have personal experience with) You are told that if you question you are sinning and sinners go to hell.
The suspension of disbelief, to me, is where you do ask questions. Many questions. When sometimes you get the answers, you may not be able to believe them. However, you know somewhere deep down that they are true. You choose to suspend disbelief or you choose to believe (different things if you think about it) but, you are not asked to swallow information based on blind faith and no thought.
Growing up I made the mistake of asking a lot of questions. This did not please the pastors and priests that I interacted with. Some of the questions were the standard “why do bad things happen to good people” some were a bit more esoteric but all got the same or similar response. First would be a simple answer to the question, such as, “because there is evil in the world” answer to the bad things to good people question. If I pressed further I was actively discouraged, if I did not listen to the discouragement then I was told that I was a “girl and what did I know of these things.” Well, I knew what I didn’t know and that was why I was asking the questions.
Round and round I went, till I fell apart, and began the process of falling together.
I spent the better part of 3 years angry with God. Angry does not quite capture how I felt. Rage. Rage is a good capture of how I felt during that time. I was pissed off about the bullshit answers (or non answers) I got to my questions, great and small. I was pissed off at the abuse I had suffered all in the name of “god's will” and casting out evil. I was pissed off at the condemnation of who I am. Both the questioner and the orientation aspects of myself. I demanded to know why God created me this way but then condemned her creation. “Fuck you” was said to God a lot during that time. Sometimes I even embellished it with “and the horse you rode in on.” I even turned my back to her for a short time when I ran out of words but couldn’t stand not screaming something at her.
The entire time She just waited. Waited while I hurled insults, anger, pain her way. All the while being silent. The good kind of silence, the waiting kind, full of love and understanding. After about 2 years of this, She spoke and asked me “is it me you are angry at or is it my self called ‘followers’”? I had to rail for another 3 months before I would answer that question. I did finally answer it and spent the next 3 months angry that She did nothing to stop all of that from happening.
“I had a purpose in letting it happen”
“Fuck you!”
“I will tell you sometime what the purpose was, then you will understand”
“Ok but can you tell me soon”
“You will know when it is time”
“FINE”
Much later I did get the answer and now I am actually grateful for having gone through my past. If I had not, I would have no true understanding of the suffering of others.
So, to wrap up.
Belief that God would not strike me dead was what allowed me to be angry with God.
Faith is what allows me to hear her voice and understand what she is saying.
In order for me to be where I am today I needed to suspend my disbelief that God would allow me space to work through my anger.
Hope that cleared up my perception of the differences between those three.
But, I digress...
This is not to say that I avoid faith or belief or even just the suspension of disbelief. All of these are very different than turning your brain off.
How about I explain…
Checking your brain at the door, to me, means you don’t question. You don’t question what you read or what is told to you by those in “authority”, either here on earth in the form of Pastors, Priests, Rectors, anyone in authority, or in Heaven. You don’t ask questions and you NEVER ask why. You are told to take everything that is given to you “on faith” or you are not a good Baptist, Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist, Mormon, whatever the flavor is. (I am limiting this to “Christian” beliefs because those are what I have personal experience with) You are told that if you question you are sinning and sinners go to hell.
The suspension of disbelief, to me, is where you do ask questions. Many questions. When sometimes you get the answers, you may not be able to believe them. However, you know somewhere deep down that they are true. You choose to suspend disbelief or you choose to believe (different things if you think about it) but, you are not asked to swallow information based on blind faith and no thought.
Growing up I made the mistake of asking a lot of questions. This did not please the pastors and priests that I interacted with. Some of the questions were the standard “why do bad things happen to good people” some were a bit more esoteric but all got the same or similar response. First would be a simple answer to the question, such as, “because there is evil in the world” answer to the bad things to good people question. If I pressed further I was actively discouraged, if I did not listen to the discouragement then I was told that I was a “girl and what did I know of these things.” Well, I knew what I didn’t know and that was why I was asking the questions.
Round and round I went, till I fell apart, and began the process of falling together.
I spent the better part of 3 years angry with God. Angry does not quite capture how I felt. Rage. Rage is a good capture of how I felt during that time. I was pissed off about the bullshit answers (or non answers) I got to my questions, great and small. I was pissed off at the abuse I had suffered all in the name of “god's will” and casting out evil. I was pissed off at the condemnation of who I am. Both the questioner and the orientation aspects of myself. I demanded to know why God created me this way but then condemned her creation. “Fuck you” was said to God a lot during that time. Sometimes I even embellished it with “and the horse you rode in on.” I even turned my back to her for a short time when I ran out of words but couldn’t stand not screaming something at her.
The entire time She just waited. Waited while I hurled insults, anger, pain her way. All the while being silent. The good kind of silence, the waiting kind, full of love and understanding. After about 2 years of this, She spoke and asked me “is it me you are angry at or is it my self called ‘followers’”? I had to rail for another 3 months before I would answer that question. I did finally answer it and spent the next 3 months angry that She did nothing to stop all of that from happening.
“I had a purpose in letting it happen”
“Fuck you!”
“I will tell you sometime what the purpose was, then you will understand”
“Ok but can you tell me soon”
“You will know when it is time”
“FINE”
Much later I did get the answer and now I am actually grateful for having gone through my past. If I had not, I would have no true understanding of the suffering of others.
So, to wrap up.
Belief that God would not strike me dead was what allowed me to be angry with God.
Faith is what allows me to hear her voice and understand what she is saying.
In order for me to be where I am today I needed to suspend my disbelief that God would allow me space to work through my anger.
Hope that cleared up my perception of the differences between those three.
But, I digress...
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sums it up
This entry from RuachX pretty much sums up the whole thing...
http://ruachx.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-more-moment-of-stupid-thats-what-i.html
http://ruachx.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-more-moment-of-stupid-thats-what-i.html
Forgotten
I just had to look up an old boss of mine from 2002. No big deal. Couldn't really find her. So I called a coworker who was here at my company at the same time. She mentioned a few things that made me realize something.
Because of my drinking there is an entire year that I don't remember. An... entire... year.
Out of the whole of 2002 I remember seven events.
Someone dear to me's broken ankle
A fight someone dear and I had on the phone one night
Being in the hospital for 3 weeks.
The last time someone dear and I spoke on the phone
4th of July party
Going to the National PowWow
spending my 30th birthday in the hospital
Out of 365 days I remember 7 things.
Seven.
When I got sober the following year, I did not think my drinking had gotten that severe. After all, I still had a job (barely) and a place to live (thousands in unpaid rent).
This... this of all things makes me realize how bad the drinking had really gotten.
There are times when I wish I could be numb for a little bit. Times when things are so overwhelming I feel as if I can't take it. That is when I wish for just a bit of numb.
I was apparently numb for all of 2002.
JESUS CHRIST!
What did I miss that year? What conversations did I have with someone dear that I DON'T REMEMBER? What did I say?
Fuck, FUCK, FUCK!
Time that is gone... wasted time.
I will cry about this later. After dinner with a friend who I am certain will not understand.
What I am learning these days...
is that the hardest person to forgive...
is me.
Because of my drinking there is an entire year that I don't remember. An... entire... year.
Out of the whole of 2002 I remember seven events.
Someone dear to me's broken ankle
A fight someone dear and I had on the phone one night
Being in the hospital for 3 weeks.
The last time someone dear and I spoke on the phone
4th of July party
Going to the National PowWow
spending my 30th birthday in the hospital
Out of 365 days I remember 7 things.
Seven.
When I got sober the following year, I did not think my drinking had gotten that severe. After all, I still had a job (barely) and a place to live (thousands in unpaid rent).
This... this of all things makes me realize how bad the drinking had really gotten.
There are times when I wish I could be numb for a little bit. Times when things are so overwhelming I feel as if I can't take it. That is when I wish for just a bit of numb.
I was apparently numb for all of 2002.
JESUS CHRIST!
What did I miss that year? What conversations did I have with someone dear that I DON'T REMEMBER? What did I say?
Fuck, FUCK, FUCK!
Time that is gone... wasted time.
I will cry about this later. After dinner with a friend who I am certain will not understand.
What I am learning these days...
is that the hardest person to forgive...
is me.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Love your neighbor
Time to take back our country.
Not just in the form of our government taking our rights away. I propose that we take our country back in the form of helping our neighbors.
Check out this link. http://www.komotv.com/news/9907767.html This is a story from Seattle, WA about a family that was targeted for hate because of being Jewish. Their cars were spray painted with swastikas. The police are investigating this as vandelism until they can prove the intent of the shits that did this. When they prove it, then it becomes a hate crime.
Meanwhile
This family is in shock and horror. They are nervous that the next time they come out of the house in the morning the will find more shit to deal with. More peace lost.
I read this and the usual anger came up. "What the FUCK is WRONG with people?!?" A question I am asking all too often these days. Then the next question comes up. "What can I do about this?"
I suggest that (with the permission of the family) the "neighbors" of these folks start taking turns camping one person near their house to keep watch and make sure they are safe. The police are not able to do this due to staffing shortages and needing to respond to more urgent crises. I get that and agree with that. So, it is up to us. Not in a "gonna get those sonsobitches" kind of way. In a "I see someone sneaking around their house gonna call the cops" kind of way.
Better that then waiting till someone tosses a moletov coctail through the front window.
Cause you know that is where hate ends up. It doesn't stop with spray paint or burning crosses.
It would be even better if before it got to the spray paint stage, we talked to our neighbors. Saw them as truly human, not just "others." Different, yes, but beautiful because of that difference.
Black, Brown, Red, White
Fag, Queer, Straight
Male, Female, Male-to-Female, Female-to-Male
Old, Young
Rich, Middle, Poor, Poverty
Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Wiccan, Agnostic, Athiest
All of us. We are all one. If one hurts we all hurt.
Not just in the form of our government taking our rights away. I propose that we take our country back in the form of helping our neighbors.
Check out this link. http://www.komotv.com/news/9907767.html This is a story from Seattle, WA about a family that was targeted for hate because of being Jewish. Their cars were spray painted with swastikas. The police are investigating this as vandelism until they can prove the intent of the shits that did this. When they prove it, then it becomes a hate crime.
Meanwhile
This family is in shock and horror. They are nervous that the next time they come out of the house in the morning the will find more shit to deal with. More peace lost.
I read this and the usual anger came up. "What the FUCK is WRONG with people?!?" A question I am asking all too often these days. Then the next question comes up. "What can I do about this?"
I suggest that (with the permission of the family) the "neighbors" of these folks start taking turns camping one person near their house to keep watch and make sure they are safe. The police are not able to do this due to staffing shortages and needing to respond to more urgent crises. I get that and agree with that. So, it is up to us. Not in a "gonna get those sonsobitches" kind of way. In a "I see someone sneaking around their house gonna call the cops" kind of way.
Better that then waiting till someone tosses a moletov coctail through the front window.
Cause you know that is where hate ends up. It doesn't stop with spray paint or burning crosses.
It would be even better if before it got to the spray paint stage, we talked to our neighbors. Saw them as truly human, not just "others." Different, yes, but beautiful because of that difference.
Black, Brown, Red, White
Fag, Queer, Straight
Male, Female, Male-to-Female, Female-to-Male
Old, Young
Rich, Middle, Poor, Poverty
Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Wiccan, Agnostic, Athiest
All of us. We are all one. If one hurts we all hurt.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Walking into the back room
to where all the broken memories and dreams lay
"Wow, this really piled up other the years" I say.
You say "Yes but, we can get through it"
The bookshelves were other things
Surface things
Yes, they needed to be organized
However
It is time (I guess) to go and sort through all the...
Clutter
Mess
Junk
I am getting ready to move after all
Who wants to take all the broken stuff
I would rather sort through and take the meaningful stuff.
Leave the rest
This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.
Perhaps that is why I felt the need for a break.
Could I feel this coming?
The change in venue is appropriate. Perhaps I was getting into a rut, with the safety of similarity.
Change is good.
I am starting to believe that.
The view is better
Higher
Good analogy.
"Come on up, the view is amazing. You should see this."
I am beginning to.
and
I am looking forward to the view from farther along.
Even though the rocks I will climb look terrifying.
I know in my head that the ropes will hold.
My heart isn't quite so sure.
I just need to put in a few more anchor points.
You know, just in case.
to where all the broken memories and dreams lay
"Wow, this really piled up other the years" I say.
You say "Yes but, we can get through it"
The bookshelves were other things
Surface things
Yes, they needed to be organized
However
It is time (I guess) to go and sort through all the...
Clutter
Mess
Junk
I am getting ready to move after all
Who wants to take all the broken stuff
I would rather sort through and take the meaningful stuff.
Leave the rest
This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done.
Perhaps that is why I felt the need for a break.
Could I feel this coming?
The change in venue is appropriate. Perhaps I was getting into a rut, with the safety of similarity.
Change is good.
I am starting to believe that.
The view is better
Higher
Good analogy.
"Come on up, the view is amazing. You should see this."
I am beginning to.
and
I am looking forward to the view from farther along.
Even though the rocks I will climb look terrifying.
I know in my head that the ropes will hold.
My heart isn't quite so sure.
I just need to put in a few more anchor points.
You know, just in case.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
What would I say...
I just found out that you just got married. Congratulations.
I think.
We were together for such a short time. 3 years isn’t that long.
What can I say. You were one way with me and now another. Which one is true.
Or are they both.
I’m not understanding. I am missing a piece. A Five year piece. Time to change. I know I have.
You wouldn’t recognize me now. The hair is similar, with some added gray. The weight is similar, with the recent loss. The clothes are even similar, with additions of things more in my style and less what others expect.
You wouldn’t recognize me now. I am sober. Four years in fact. I am calm. This one is newer. I am serene. This one is newest of them all. I speak clearer, think clearer, and have opinions that are my very own. I take advice from loved ones and don’t from people I don’t respect. I have trust in my instincts. Didn’t know I had instincts huh? I didn’t either till a little while ago. I have faith in God(ess) again and still go to the Episcopal church you introduced me to so long ago.
How have you changed? Based on the notice that I found by accident, a lot. And, not that much.
You said you would go back if we broke up. I didn’t really believe it then (or didn’t want to). But you did.
Interesting.
Were you both when we were together but couldn’t admit it to yourself then? Were you one way with me and then another with others. What is the truth? The base truth.
I found mine. Did you find yours?
So, many, questions. That I won’t get the chance to ask you.
Even if we run into each other someday.
Which I hope and dread all at the same time. Today, more dread than anything else. What would I say…
Will you look the same? Do you limp from the shattered ankle all those years ago? I doubt it. You were too strong for that.
You were my first true love and I still love you. I will always. But not the same way. I will always wonder if you are happy. Or even just content.
Do you wonder about me. The last thing you said in the apartment before you left stays with me still.
The last thing I said to you in the old apartment just popped back in my mind. And brought a smile. I hope it came true. You need someone to make you laugh, and dance, and think. Things I didn’t give you enough of.
But back to today.
I am the same and so vastly different than when you knew. Or could have imagined. I bet you are wildly different too.
The shock today was from looking at you from long ago. 6 years ago. Too long ago to hold you too.
Time to say goodbye now. More later I am sure.
I think.
We were together for such a short time. 3 years isn’t that long.
What can I say. You were one way with me and now another. Which one is true.
Or are they both.
I’m not understanding. I am missing a piece. A Five year piece. Time to change. I know I have.
You wouldn’t recognize me now. The hair is similar, with some added gray. The weight is similar, with the recent loss. The clothes are even similar, with additions of things more in my style and less what others expect.
You wouldn’t recognize me now. I am sober. Four years in fact. I am calm. This one is newer. I am serene. This one is newest of them all. I speak clearer, think clearer, and have opinions that are my very own. I take advice from loved ones and don’t from people I don’t respect. I have trust in my instincts. Didn’t know I had instincts huh? I didn’t either till a little while ago. I have faith in God(ess) again and still go to the Episcopal church you introduced me to so long ago.
How have you changed? Based on the notice that I found by accident, a lot. And, not that much.
You said you would go back if we broke up. I didn’t really believe it then (or didn’t want to). But you did.
Interesting.
Were you both when we were together but couldn’t admit it to yourself then? Were you one way with me and then another with others. What is the truth? The base truth.
I found mine. Did you find yours?
So, many, questions. That I won’t get the chance to ask you.
Even if we run into each other someday.
Which I hope and dread all at the same time. Today, more dread than anything else. What would I say…
Will you look the same? Do you limp from the shattered ankle all those years ago? I doubt it. You were too strong for that.
You were my first true love and I still love you. I will always. But not the same way. I will always wonder if you are happy. Or even just content.
Do you wonder about me. The last thing you said in the apartment before you left stays with me still.
The last thing I said to you in the old apartment just popped back in my mind. And brought a smile. I hope it came true. You need someone to make you laugh, and dance, and think. Things I didn’t give you enough of.
But back to today.
I am the same and so vastly different than when you knew. Or could have imagined. I bet you are wildly different too.
The shock today was from looking at you from long ago. 6 years ago. Too long ago to hold you too.
Time to say goodbye now. More later I am sure.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
a small field in pennsylvania
is where my brothers and sisters died.
They weren't my brothers and sisters in life. They became my brothers and sisters when they charged the cockpit of an airplane. I believe that when someone dies to protect you that makes you related. Don't you think?
That day, while firefighters in DC and NY were battling fires caused by hate, my brothers and sisters were on a plane headed west. After some of the crew were killed they called loved ones and heard that they were not alone in their fear.
What they did with their fear is amazing.
We made heroes of the firefighters in NY. I think that is true. Takes courage to run into the flames and try and get people out. Takes more courage to run into a building that is a tall ass death trap.
I think we forget about another batch of heroes.
We forget that the firefighters and police of New York signed up for this. They knew when they went to training that on the job death was a possibility. A reality.
The people of flight 93 were average. Just going on a flight. On a trip. They were all just like you and me. Average people with average lives.
No training.
No equipment.
Just them.
They heard from their loved ones that they were dead. Or gonna be. They knew that when they died that the plane they were on was going to be used as the weapon to kill others.
They waited till they were over unpopulated areas to try and take the plane back.
They didn't know that at that same time I was in a building in downtown Washington, DC. This building was 5 blocks from the White House.
My apartment was 5 blocks from the Capitol Building.
My friend was working in the Heart Senate Office building 1 block from the Capitol grounds.
Because my brothers and sisters died in Pennsylvania, Eric and I were spared.
And others too.
I think sometimes about what I would have done in their place. I like to believe that I would have been right along with them, trying to pound my way through the cockpit door.
Truth is, I don't know what I would have done. I have in the past jumped in to help when it ment danger to me, so I suspect I would have been right up front.
But
I have not been in that situation and we NEVER know how we will react. I bet those folks, when they got on the plane, wouldn't have believed what they were able to accomplish.
So
Here's to you, my brothers and sisters. Your loved ones live on.
They weren't my brothers and sisters in life. They became my brothers and sisters when they charged the cockpit of an airplane. I believe that when someone dies to protect you that makes you related. Don't you think?
That day, while firefighters in DC and NY were battling fires caused by hate, my brothers and sisters were on a plane headed west. After some of the crew were killed they called loved ones and heard that they were not alone in their fear.
What they did with their fear is amazing.
We made heroes of the firefighters in NY. I think that is true. Takes courage to run into the flames and try and get people out. Takes more courage to run into a building that is a tall ass death trap.
I think we forget about another batch of heroes.
We forget that the firefighters and police of New York signed up for this. They knew when they went to training that on the job death was a possibility. A reality.
The people of flight 93 were average. Just going on a flight. On a trip. They were all just like you and me. Average people with average lives.
No training.
No equipment.
Just them.
They heard from their loved ones that they were dead. Or gonna be. They knew that when they died that the plane they were on was going to be used as the weapon to kill others.
They waited till they were over unpopulated areas to try and take the plane back.
They didn't know that at that same time I was in a building in downtown Washington, DC. This building was 5 blocks from the White House.
My apartment was 5 blocks from the Capitol Building.
My friend was working in the Heart Senate Office building 1 block from the Capitol grounds.
Because my brothers and sisters died in Pennsylvania, Eric and I were spared.
And others too.
I think sometimes about what I would have done in their place. I like to believe that I would have been right along with them, trying to pound my way through the cockpit door.
Truth is, I don't know what I would have done. I have in the past jumped in to help when it ment danger to me, so I suspect I would have been right up front.
But
I have not been in that situation and we NEVER know how we will react. I bet those folks, when they got on the plane, wouldn't have believed what they were able to accomplish.
So
Here's to you, my brothers and sisters. Your loved ones live on.
Six Years Later
Six years later I still can't get used to the skyline of New York without the landmarks.
Six years later and they are still gone.
Six years later I still remember what it was like to stand in the plaza and look up.
Six years later and they are still gone.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
In response to a request for a donation
I got a request from MoveOn.Org for yet another donation to end the war in Iraq. Here is the response I posted in their feedback section on their website.
I sent the following in response to the "Fighting Back" email I just received.
"I am not this optimistic. The Democrats tossed the Service Members under the bus the last time they had the opportunity to end this.
The political parties may change but nothing else does...”
I would like to add this to the above statement.
It appears that MoveOn has become quite the champion of the Democratic Party. While I at one time agreed that the Democratic Party was better than the Republican Party in protecting rights for the underprivileged, I think that recent events have proven that belief incorrect.
As a Lesbian I have long been accustomed to Democratic candidates saying what the queer community has wanted to hear in order to get elected, then once in office selling out. At that time I deluded myself into thinking that perhaps this was just an issue that was too hot to handle or it was too difficult to pass the legislation.
When the Democrats took over the House and Senate on the “out of Iraq” and “Hold Bush Accountable” types of promises I got my hopes up. I believed that change was possible. However, now I see that my beliefs about the GLBT issues were misguided. It appears that ANY issue is too difficult for them to deal with. From what I have seen come out of the House and Senate since they took over it is the same old story. Say anything to get elected, do anything else while in office.
I have lost my faith that it will ever improve. Or change for that matter. I have decided that from now on I will not be donating my money to political causes; I will instead be redirecting that money towards the people who are making a difference in America, the social service, homeless shelter, youth, and victims of domestic violence organizations.
Thank you for allowing me this space to say my piece.
I sent the following in response to the "Fighting Back" email I just received.
"I am not this optimistic. The Democrats tossed the Service Members under the bus the last time they had the opportunity to end this.
The political parties may change but nothing else does...”
I would like to add this to the above statement.
It appears that MoveOn has become quite the champion of the Democratic Party. While I at one time agreed that the Democratic Party was better than the Republican Party in protecting rights for the underprivileged, I think that recent events have proven that belief incorrect.
As a Lesbian I have long been accustomed to Democratic candidates saying what the queer community has wanted to hear in order to get elected, then once in office selling out. At that time I deluded myself into thinking that perhaps this was just an issue that was too hot to handle or it was too difficult to pass the legislation.
When the Democrats took over the House and Senate on the “out of Iraq” and “Hold Bush Accountable” types of promises I got my hopes up. I believed that change was possible. However, now I see that my beliefs about the GLBT issues were misguided. It appears that ANY issue is too difficult for them to deal with. From what I have seen come out of the House and Senate since they took over it is the same old story. Say anything to get elected, do anything else while in office.
I have lost my faith that it will ever improve. Or change for that matter. I have decided that from now on I will not be donating my money to political causes; I will instead be redirecting that money towards the people who are making a difference in America, the social service, homeless shelter, youth, and victims of domestic violence organizations.
Thank you for allowing me this space to say my piece.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
What am I holding for you?
was the question my therapist asked me one day.
I didn't have an answer then.
Well I do now.
What is she holding for me?
Answers in questions.
Guidance in silence.
Dances with words.
Clarity in haze.
Revelations in waiting.
Encouragement in confusion.
'You should see this! The view is amazing. Worth the hike up the mountain.'
Gonna do some more hiking soon. Just got to gather some things together first...
I didn't have an answer then.
Well I do now.
What is she holding for me?
Answers in questions.
Guidance in silence.
Dances with words.
Clarity in haze.
Revelations in waiting.
Encouragement in confusion.
'You should see this! The view is amazing. Worth the hike up the mountain.'
Gonna do some more hiking soon. Just got to gather some things together first...
Thursday, July 19, 2007
You ever have one of those moments where you realize how well you really are doing?
I have BiPolar disorder and have for a little while now considered myself high functioning. High functioning with a caveat though.
I hold down a job. In fact I have been with the same company for 6 years now. I have a consistent routine that works really well. I get to work and other appointments usually on time with a few exceptions for circumstances not always under my control. I have a close group of friends that I would be lost without and a very supportive partner. I have not had a major episode in over 2 years.
The caveat being that I don’t usually remember to pay my bills, finish things that I start, or do some of the simple life maintenance things that “everyone else” does and that are usually humiliating to ask for help remembering.
I have been beating myself up for a long time about the caveat.
Till a few minutes ago, when I went on the About.com webpage looking for information on reasonable accommodations for BiPolar disorder to give to my new boss. I came across a checklist for Daily Maintenance that someone had put up. I read through it and decided that it would be a good idea for me to start using this.
Then it hit me…
I figured out how to do some of the things on the list on my own, that I have been doing them for a while now. I paid for a truck before taking ownership so that I worked with my limits instead of giving myself an excuse to beat myself up. I just made sure that instead of borrowing money to last till payday, I earned enough money to last till payday. I have my work back under control to the point that I can sit and write this on my lunch break, instead of working through lunch just to keep up. I am learning healthy boundaries and have become more comfortable in them.
These are all things that I have a hard time with and could not take into account that these are more difficult for me than most. Equivalent of swimming the English Channel with about 5 or 10 pounds of extra weight strapped to each foot. I had, up to this point been comparing myself to everyone else, the so called “normals” out there.
It just sunk in that I am doing fucking great!
I hold down a job. In fact I have been with the same company for 6 years now. I have a consistent routine that works really well. I get to work and other appointments usually on time with a few exceptions for circumstances not always under my control. I have a close group of friends that I would be lost without and a very supportive partner. I have not had a major episode in over 2 years.
The caveat being that I don’t usually remember to pay my bills, finish things that I start, or do some of the simple life maintenance things that “everyone else” does and that are usually humiliating to ask for help remembering.
I have been beating myself up for a long time about the caveat.
Till a few minutes ago, when I went on the About.com webpage looking for information on reasonable accommodations for BiPolar disorder to give to my new boss. I came across a checklist for Daily Maintenance that someone had put up. I read through it and decided that it would be a good idea for me to start using this.
Then it hit me…
I figured out how to do some of the things on the list on my own, that I have been doing them for a while now. I paid for a truck before taking ownership so that I worked with my limits instead of giving myself an excuse to beat myself up. I just made sure that instead of borrowing money to last till payday, I earned enough money to last till payday. I have my work back under control to the point that I can sit and write this on my lunch break, instead of working through lunch just to keep up. I am learning healthy boundaries and have become more comfortable in them.
These are all things that I have a hard time with and could not take into account that these are more difficult for me than most. Equivalent of swimming the English Channel with about 5 or 10 pounds of extra weight strapped to each foot. I had, up to this point been comparing myself to everyone else, the so called “normals” out there.
It just sunk in that I am doing fucking great!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
No more input please...
really, I am full.
What do you do when there is too much coming in and not enough getting organized?
Well...
I am going to retreat to my place. Hide out with the dog and kitty for the weekend. Do some fairly mindless (but creative) bead work. Perhaps a walk on the field. Ya know, even sleeping all day is ok.
Just gonna step back. Breathe... Iiiiiiinnnn Oooouuutttt
I have a few decisions to make... do I stay or do I go? Do I delay again or do I get going this time? Do I keep pushing on even though I feel like I don't have a chance to improve or do I put that energy into another instrument? Do I continue to explore or do I go out an live life for a while? Is that last question just a cop-out?
So many questions...
What do you do when there is too much coming in and not enough getting organized?
Well...
I am going to retreat to my place. Hide out with the dog and kitty for the weekend. Do some fairly mindless (but creative) bead work. Perhaps a walk on the field. Ya know, even sleeping all day is ok.
Just gonna step back. Breathe... Iiiiiiinnnn Oooouuutttt
I have a few decisions to make... do I stay or do I go? Do I delay again or do I get going this time? Do I keep pushing on even though I feel like I don't have a chance to improve or do I put that energy into another instrument? Do I continue to explore or do I go out an live life for a while? Is that last question just a cop-out?
So many questions...
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Letter to Kristen
Boy, how do I begin this? You were my first true love. You gave me the space to become, and I, frankly, blew it. In the process of blowing it I took you down with me. For that I am deeply sorry.
You helped me get back on my feet. When it came time for me to help you I could have done a much better job. Then, when you started to get better I made sure I reminded you how hard it was for me while you were sick. One day I will be able to forgive myself for that.
I took so much of your life and did not give much in return.
I never let you have your own space. You had to disappear for 5 hours one night just to get some time alone. I am sorry I did not believe that the answering machine ate the messages. I am so sorry that I didn’t allow space for you to just be.
You always knew how to make me smile. I still tell people your description of your left-handedness. “I am so left-handed that my right arm is there just so people don’t stare.” I am sorry that I gave you more tears than laughter. Or respect.
I am sorry I drank so much. The times when I am tempted to break my recovery and sacrifice my sobriety I remember the night we fought about laundry. “And it isn’t even OURS” you said. It gives me a bitter-sweet smile when I think about that fight. Sweet, because you knew exactly how to sum up the entire stupid argument. Bitter because it was more time with you I wasted instead of spending it wisely and cherishing it.
I took from you but didn’t give back. Oh, I thought I was giving back but I look now with sober, “3 o’clock in the morning honesty” eyes and I see the truth of that time. I never gave without expectation. I never did anything out of selfless love. I cannot express how much I regret that.
You were not perfect but you were honest.
I still miss you. Even as I ride the Metro tonight, with people looking at me as I cry.
I want to call you and see if you are doing well. But that - I don’t trust that it isn’t for selfish reasons.
I want to send this to you directly, but I don’t want to cause more harm.
So, I post this here. In the hopes that you will find it. That you will read this and know how sorry I truly am. That perhaps I may get the answer back that you forgive me. That just maybe, it wasn’t a total waste of your time and energy. That you learned something good and that you have found someone new, as I have. That they share life with you and you are happy.
Perhaps one day we will finish the song Scenes from an Italian Restaurant. We did the middle part, it would be nice to do the beginning of that song. Well, I will pass on the bottle of red and the bottle of white. I spent too long in bottles…
Love,
Lou
You helped me get back on my feet. When it came time for me to help you I could have done a much better job. Then, when you started to get better I made sure I reminded you how hard it was for me while you were sick. One day I will be able to forgive myself for that.
I took so much of your life and did not give much in return.
I never let you have your own space. You had to disappear for 5 hours one night just to get some time alone. I am sorry I did not believe that the answering machine ate the messages. I am so sorry that I didn’t allow space for you to just be.
You always knew how to make me smile. I still tell people your description of your left-handedness. “I am so left-handed that my right arm is there just so people don’t stare.” I am sorry that I gave you more tears than laughter. Or respect.
I am sorry I drank so much. The times when I am tempted to break my recovery and sacrifice my sobriety I remember the night we fought about laundry. “And it isn’t even OURS” you said. It gives me a bitter-sweet smile when I think about that fight. Sweet, because you knew exactly how to sum up the entire stupid argument. Bitter because it was more time with you I wasted instead of spending it wisely and cherishing it.
I took from you but didn’t give back. Oh, I thought I was giving back but I look now with sober, “3 o’clock in the morning honesty” eyes and I see the truth of that time. I never gave without expectation. I never did anything out of selfless love. I cannot express how much I regret that.
You were not perfect but you were honest.
I still miss you. Even as I ride the Metro tonight, with people looking at me as I cry.
I want to call you and see if you are doing well. But that - I don’t trust that it isn’t for selfish reasons.
I want to send this to you directly, but I don’t want to cause more harm.
So, I post this here. In the hopes that you will find it. That you will read this and know how sorry I truly am. That perhaps I may get the answer back that you forgive me. That just maybe, it wasn’t a total waste of your time and energy. That you learned something good and that you have found someone new, as I have. That they share life with you and you are happy.
Perhaps one day we will finish the song Scenes from an Italian Restaurant. We did the middle part, it would be nice to do the beginning of that song. Well, I will pass on the bottle of red and the bottle of white. I spent too long in bottles…
Love,
Lou
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Spoken Words
Speak to me the words you need to hear
I will speak to you the words I need to say
I pray they are the same
I will speak to you the words I need to say
I pray they are the same
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Ever have one of those days?
ever have one of those days...
one where you wake up in a slightly bad mood
and your mood goes downhill from there
because you are pissed off,
can't quite put your finger on it,
and won't allow yourself to take it out on anyone or anything?
then all day, at work, every-fucking-thing breaks
or locks up
or worked just a minute ago but now doesn't
or the deadline you are trying to make got moved up
but
the machine isn't cooperating?
one where you wake up in a slightly bad mood
and your mood goes downhill from there
because you are pissed off,
can't quite put your finger on it,
and won't allow yourself to take it out on anyone or anything?
then all day, at work, every-fucking-thing breaks
or locks up
or worked just a minute ago but now doesn't
or the deadline you are trying to make got moved up
but
the machine isn't cooperating?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
