Tweet Your Business

There was a campaign called Tweet your abortion on Twitter. The purpose is to show the world you don't feel ashamed of your medical choice. The campaign was in response to the right wing rampage to eliminate Planned Parenthood where one of their platforms was that mostly all women regret having abortions. This is false, and I read plenty of surveys that say exactly the opposite (damn statistics) so many women used Twitter as a way to voice there is no shame in their abortion game.
I think it was a great use of social media to rebut a damning claim, but as a feminist, I find it pathetic we have to go to such deep levels of disclosure when trying to attain a fundamental right. People don't have to tweet their medical conditions to get care, and all sex related conditions are considered personal, so why must women need to divulge their medical history in a public manner in order to be heard. No one is forcing people with herpes to bound together and announce they require medical help for their STD. There shouldn't need to be proof that there is lack of shame, shame should be irrelevant in healthcare provisions.
So for all those women who are thinking, "This is bull shit, Im not tweeting my fucking abortion, and it doesn't mean I regret it, or that I am ashamed, it just means, it's fucking personal." You can take a deep breath because I agree with you.
There are factors from people's upbringings that can allow anyone to have wavering feelings about their choice. I for one am booking myself an appointment for confession on December 9th because, like my staunch Catholic Grandma said, "It's better to be on the safe side." She was affirming Pascal's Wager, and with the "Year of Mercy" appointed by the church, why not get a clear conscious because it's hard to escape religious tenants that have been drilled into your head since childhood.
I also think it might be good idea to book an appointment for confession if you drink primarily bottled water because I don't think any God who might hold you down for having abortion, is going to open the gates for someone who buys water by the pallet, or who buys those teeny tiny water bottles that hold two gulps worth.
My Grandfather, who was also Catholic, said to me, "I think that any God will accept any person who has lived a good life. Faith is not necessary for salvation."

Both my Grandparents said things that were not Catholic, shedding light on the ambivalence in damnation for someone who is not worshipping the same way as them. Walter Kaufmann says in Critique of Religion and Philosophy,

“What Pascal overlooked was the hair-raising possibility that God might out-Luther Luther. A special area in hell might be reserved for those who go to mass. Or God might punish those whose faith is prompted by prudence. Perhaps God prefers the abstinent to those who whore around with some denomination he despises. Perhaps he reserves special rewards for those who deny themselves the comfort of belief. Perhaps the intellectual ascetic will win all while those who compromised their intellectual integrity lose everything."

Kaufman is saying that my Grandma's idea will get you a special seat in hell. I'm not worried about Grams because even though she provided this advice to her grandchildren, she was of deep faith. If I take this line of thinking and apply it to abortion and sin, it seems Kaufmann thinks women who are ashamed and guilt ridden about their abortion and women who are completely unashamed will be free of sin, ultimate judgement, however, women who teeter on skepticism, but hit the confession booth for reassurance, well they're screwed. I hope a Twitter campaign comes along soon to alleviate this third group who keeps finding themselves in the hot seat, there are souls at stake here, we need hashtags, STAT!

Naturainteruptus

My sister called me after work, "You will not believe what happened when I walked to my car!"
The possibilities were too much for me to narrow in on one theory. "Oh, gosh, I don't know."
"I walked right into a fucking tree brach! It kind of hurt, but I just kept on going because I felt so stupid."
"Hahaha! I have a word for that! Naturinterruptus!"

I read a very cool article on Japan and Germany's extensive vocabularies. There are many words that are considered untranslatable because it takes a couple sentences to explain, however, the explanations are so common and relatable anyone can understand the meaning. I started an ongoing list of things that should be simplified by a one word expression. One word is "Impractidoggybag," which means wrapping up leftover food knowing you aren't going to get around to eating it, creating additional waste. Or "Foodsuponreturn" the happy sight of seeing your food has arrived to the table during the time you went to the bathroom.

Naturinterruptus came to me on a jog. I always start out my run by brushing the top of my head on low hanging branches on a neighbor's tree. I like to touch the tree with my head. I do this often when I'm walking under a tree, I pop my head up under a branch, hoping to make contact. These are thought out moments where I reach out toward nature, however, there are times when nature reaches out to us, and when were oblivious, it can be as brutal as a face smacking into the trunk of a tree.
Usually, these time are jarring because of the unexpectedness, but luckily the pain is muted by embarrassment, especially if contact occurred in a crowded place and there was an audience for your Naturinterruptus. The audience cringes as you compose yourself, recovering from feeling assaulted, but overcome with happiness you weren't blinded by a twig.

Last night I read my book in bed, and a fly was driving me bonkers by running its buzzing body into my head, the book, and my bedside lamp. I was too lazy to get up and try to murder it, but I gave it a couple body flailing hand slaps, that must have caused some damage, but he remained undeterred in bugging me. Whenever the fly got next to my ear I'd become less annoyed and more disgusted, imagining the fly laying eggs in my ear. After a couple times where the fly came so close to my ear I nearly punched myself in the side of the head, I noticed the fly sounds like a muffled kazoo.
I hadn't noticed a fly sounding this way before, and made a note in my "New Words" list, to think about this some more.
I think I know why my house is so dirty. Thats called having my priorities straight.

Red Oaks and PMS

Rest Day = Mess Day

Last night I finished Red Oaks, a brilliant Amazon Prime original series. I was smitten from the get-go, and by the end, completely enamored. The characters are so likable. Misty, looks exactly like Chelsea Handler, she'd be perfectly cast as Handler in a reboot of the My Horizontal Life TV show or as the starring role of a Lifetime Unauthorized Chelsea Handler Biopic.

I'm surprised how much grief this show gets from critics. I think critics should appreciate a comedy that doesn't rely on sarcasm thats served up so heavy handedly in most modern comedies. I found myself crying during the season finale because the father-son dynamic was so touching.

It's not hard to bring me to tears this week. I'm the walking poster child for PMS. It all started on Friday when a woman closely resembling a mole, called me an idiot in the grocery store parking lot. She waddled off with a Frappacino in hand, and I started breathing heavy, trying to hold back tears, but they came. I think I cried because I didn't quickly reply, "Go eat a dick," and felt like I failed in defending my honor. After telling my sister what happened, she told me, "You need to tell people like that to fuck off." I agreed, further acknowledging my shortcoming.
After talking to my dad, who said, "Some people in this world are grouch monsters. She took her bad day out on you." I was happy I didn't call her a miserable cunt because, even though my kids were oblivious to tears streaming down my cheeks, they would have undoubtedly heard me throw out some off the cuff potty language, and I'd be constantly reminded of it as I tried to convince them to stop screaming "CUNT!" whenever we're out in crowded, quiet places.
I'd blush, nervously saying, "Reclaim that words. Ha, ha," while power walking us back to the car, to go home, where we'll be quarantined until "cunt" is wiped from their memory. "I think you mean shunt!"
I'm just waiting for flow to get to town because my emotional depth is rubbing off on the kids, and making them act even more erratic. Yesterday we had a relaxation day because everyone was easily sent into a tailspin of hysterics. Kiki spent most of Sunday in her room crying, "I hate the word no!" and I'd poke my head in and remind her, "We don't say 'hate,' Kiki!" which would make her scream more. And George has a cold, making his tantrums snot filled. I'm constantly finding him standing on a wobbly side table that stands four feet tall in the corner of the living room. "This isn't the circus!" I say to him, picking him up from the table, causing him to convulse and scream. I have to lay him on the floor and walk away. He doesn't really know what the circus is, which might be making him cry so hard. The unknown can be so sad... Oh my, I'm starting to well up again.

Yesterday, our rest day, I felt like Wheeler in Red Oaks, wrangling his brothers and sisters before sending them off to summer camp. Rest day equates to me following the kids around cleaning up epic messes. Luckily, cartoons stop everyone in their tracks. We baked cookies, made soup and worked on halloween decorations. Kiki doesn't like any instruction, so her ghost looks like barf spray of Lisa Frank. Needless to say, it's a masterpiece.
Sadly, I binge watched the entire season of Red Oaks in two days, and now have to wait an entire year for the next season. Although, I think it's far better to have all episodes available at once, rather then being fed them one a week, it's such a bummer when the season finale ends. The 365 days till next season seems like an eternity.
Who am I kidding, season two will be here before I even realize it. Time goes by so fast. So fast. I should have had my kids at twenty, so I'd have an extra decade with them... Tissue! I need a tissue!

Our Ghosts, left to right, George's, Kiki's, mom's.

Baby Eating Clarice

Last night George woke up at 3am crying to go to the bathroom. I find this funny because during daytime hours his usual potty MO is to shout, "I have to pee!" Then rips his diaper off like Magic Mike removing his track pants, and pees on the floor, or runs to the back door, and to my astonishment, unlocks the knob, two deadbolts and the screen, then runs to the grass and pees.
George and I cruised down the hall to the bathroom, and I propped him on the toilet, but not far enough back, so his pee shot from where he was sitting, arcing three feet and miraculously landing in the bathtub. After recovering from the excitement of watching his pee shoot out of him like a garden hose, I put a new diaper on him, and tucked him back in bed.
We woke up and went to music class. I pulled Kiki from the car screaming, "My shoe is not tied tight enough!"
A friend pulled up next to me and said, "One of those days!" I had to shrug it off because it was an isolated incidence, we were actually having a great day. Then my friend, who was pulling her two grandkids out of the car, gave me a look like she was going to give me some hush hush top secret information, and I decided to lean in. She said, "You know that girl, Clarice?"
I said, "Sure. She's hard to miss!" because Clarice is our music class' Godzilla.
"Well, she just can't keep her hands to herself. I don't know whats wrong with her mom, but she doesn't ever pull her off the babies!"
My friend is right. Clarice acts like a baby obsessed little girl, running at babies with the intention of saying "gucci gucci goo!" from a respectful distance, but then she lunges, trying to pick the baby up, and eventually falling over on top of it.
Clarice's favorite target is baby Audrey, who is a tiny little girl, maybe a little over a year old. Audrey's mom has not reached a breaking point, which is going to happen soon, where she tells Clarice, "Get the fuck away from my baby before I spank your ass!"
Clarice follows poor Audrey around, smiling like she is going to devour her, as Audrey toddles at full speed with a look of horror on her face. Clarice always catches up, and Audrey always ends up crying. Clarice's mom must smoke two joints before going into class because she looks on the scene with such adoration, as if the two were peacefully stacking blocks, and every other parent in the class looks on cringing.
Maybe Audrey will surprise us one day, and flip around and eye gorge Clarice, but I doubt it, Clarice would probably eat Audrey's hand off as it came close to her face. Clarice has not tried to attack my kids because they aren't small enough for her to manhandle, but if she tried George could always show her his new potty trick. A golden shower just might stop her in her tracks.
It would never come to that because, unlike Audrey's mom who trusts Clarice won't go homicidal,  I'm skeptical of her. As Clarice came at George looking like she wants to chew him up, I'd intervene, jumping like Randy Man Savage from the baby gate surrounding the classroom, and belly flopping on top of her.

Social Climbers By Marriage

My Caveman

In all my years of hobnobbing, I can easily say people who marry way above their social class tend to be the most god awful kind of company who tend to be a terribly judgmental, chameleon of a character, saying things like "Nouveau Riche" in all seriousness when criticizing someone for having a quirky flare. It doesn't matter if this annoying character was born in the slums, they have developed amnesia of any time before consistently getting massages at The Four Seasons.

I had the pleasure of recently dining with a high society couple, and the non birth entitled husband kept nagging at me, "Come on, Alicia, come out with us and party!" I knew this invitation was more about his amusement rather than loving my company. Get beer in me, and I turn into a sailor back at port after having spent a year in an underground submarine. Enthusiastic is an understatement, and I'm easily categorized as "love me or hate me." People who have a stick up their butt, choose the latter. They find me obnoxious, and my wit buzzes past them, so instead of laughing with me they like to laugh at me. Me and this guy don't have anything in common, and although he finds me funny, he thinks of it as a competition on who can be funnier. I immediately knew it was an invitation to be Frank-The-Tank party animal, so he could have a nice chuckle at how I am just a tick above cave man, so I gracefully declined. (It sounded something like this, "I do declare, my temples are throbbing with a headache, I must rest upon a pillow for the evening.")

I've heard the phrase "There is nothing worse than a drunk woman," a couple times throughout my life and it's usually dispensed after a lady chugs five drinks and lets all her emotional baggage erupt in a room full of people. This is the stupidest saying in existence because it's obvious that there are much worse things than a drunk women, like a pedophile for example, or a drunk child, that would be horrible and sad, or how about a road raging maniac who goes around yelling at people, throwing his middle finger out the window, that guy is pretty damn awful. Rich snobby people are pretty fucking terrible, considering themselves of a higher caliber really because they have a silver spoon shoved up their butt.

In contrast, a person who climbed the social ladder on their own accord, not through a wedding band, is the most delightful company, inclined to I-don't-give-a-fuck characteristics breaking rigid social norms. It's like Bill Clinton and his panache for sticking stogies up an interns twat, or Miley Cyrus' assertive tits making their presence known whenever Miley's face is out. There is a Hillbilly Strong pride that comes along with defying the odds, making it from ground zero to the heights of the World Trade Center by being determined and happy.
A couple weeks ago, we went out to celebrate at a fine dining restaurant. The intimate tables glistened with shining giant wine glasses and enormous silverware. The host led the way to our table, and realized he didn't know where the fuck he was going so we circled back to the host booth, and he sorted out where we were going to dine. As he brought us to the right table and sat us down he apologized profusely. I could give two shits if he took us on a tour of the parking lot before bringing us to the table, so after his seventh apology, I had to hold back my urge to punch him in is stomach so he'd stop groveling like a pathetic idiot. He was acting like he took a dump on fine china and passed it to us, saying it's the chef's special, not that he walked us 20 feet without an ending point.
It never came to physical violence because he finally ended his self degradation by offering to buy us a round of drinks. After the spectacle, I couldn't help but camp it up a bit, and act like a hoedown was about to begin. My reaction to act like the entire charade was beneath me only demonstrates my immaturity, but seriously, old soul or new soul, rich bitch or poor slob, no one wants to listen to someone yammering on about how your entitled to a better parade. Well, there is one kind of person who does, and he'd sulk and scathe, lapping in the shower of gratuitous apologies, because he's entitled to it, and has the ring to prove it.

BANNED

The other day I was watching Chalmers' Ted Talks in a lounge chair next to the couch where the kids were watching a cartoon. My recommended Up Next video was  titled "BANNED Rupert Sheldrake Video," so I clicked play. The talk is titled "The Science Delusion," and Sheldrake gives evidence of Constants fluctuating in physics. The constant's value is determined through averaging values found around the world. He was building a case that fixed constants are in fact fluctuating variables, and because science is never skeptical of common theorems, equations or principals, progress is stunted.
I could get on board with his argument, and thought of how I recently reevaluated ideas I was taught. After having kids my outlook on Evolution, as a basis for the beginning of life, changed completely, to where Evolution sounds more ludicrous than what many consider fantastical in religious literature. I am not much of an animal person, and maybe it's my inability to find their company anything beyond laborious that makes me unable to see them as equivalent. I can attribute them as having souls, or a level of conscious, but if we were all the spawn of a single celled amoeba, I would expect that another species should show some heightened intelligence, that is on par with human beings. For example, the fact that we have invented these systems, materialistic systems, like a washing machine, clothes, cars, and rocket ships, and there is not evidence of another species even devising a species-made weapon of defense, or constructed a mode to ease in how they acquire food. There is not even evidence of another species constructing something as simple as a hammer. Another thing that troubles me, is after millions of years evolving, no two species have learned the same language, or are able to easily communicate between each other.
I believe the evidence of evolving is substantial, and therefore believe in Evolution, but I think that human beings are the intention of evolution, there was meaning to Evolution, human life is far too amazing to not have been.
Sheldrake uses humor as a way to communicate his idea, and a funny one liner was, "scientists needed one miracle, and then they built all facts off of that," when talking about The Big Bang theory.
I think the point of the talk is to show how easily people accept common scientific Theorems, and seeing as how most people don't have the foundation to understand these principals, it is blind faith that keeps them grappling to them. Widespread acceptance somehow makes the word "theorem" evolve into "truth."

I considered why this video was banned. I figured it was because of marketing. The "banned" video discusses two dogmas from Sheldrake's book where there are eight more. The word "banned" peaks interest in buying the book to see what more Sheldrake has to say.  I wondered how many more banned Ted Talks there are, so I googled "banned Ted Talks" and found two more videos, Graham Hancock's "The War on Conciesness," and Nick Hanauer's "Rich People Don't Create Jobs."

Nick Hanauer's talk was brief, it's only five minutes long, and his main point is tax the rich. We live in a time where rich people pay 15% and middle class pay 35% in taxes, and this does not cause an uprising because the middle class are led to believe rich people are responsible for giving jobs to the masses and therefore should not be taxed. The current state of divided wealth is incredible and I have no idea how the wool has been pulled so easily over our eyes, and people are still complacent with their dwindling wealth. Hanauer shows that as the rich get richer, the middle class get poorer, and the only way to alleviate this is by requiring the rich to pay a higher tax. I am not sure why this video was banned, perhaps this is the kind of information that unsettles the masses, and there could actually be an outcry resulting in positive change, although I'm doubtful.
I wonder how the middle class is so compliant in this tax equivalent of a cactus sodomy. The middle class has Stockholm Syndrome for upper class. I think the media's obsession with celebrity helps in upper class sympathy. Were inundated with celebrity culture, and it gives a false sense of appropriation; if I buy this Luis Vuitton, then I am one of them. I think it also serves as a lesson, that extreme wealth is at anyones fingertips, you just have to be hungry enough to grab it, and so people think, when I am in the position of being rich, then I don't want to have to give all my money to the tax man. The notion dispelled is rich people work harder than anyone to get where they are, and they should not be penalized for hard work, and because I am the same caliber of hard working person destined to be rich, I too will not be penalized when I am rich.

The last video, Hancock's War on Conscious was interesting because he was so open with how he feels like he communicates with a spiritual world. I usually think of scientists as atheists, who would consider a hallucinogenic experience no more than one's imagination running wild. I suppose Hancock's video was banned because it is pro-hallucigenics (used responsibly) and he pleads with the audience to wake up and stop being so passive as the world is being destroyed for ridiculous reasons, like frequently needing to eat cheeseburgers. The video, beyond his discussion on Ayahuasca, is about being conscious of how the world is being abused, and being conscious on ways to be a better citizen of the earth, and there will be hell to pay for those who do not wake up.
I was impressed by Hancock's story of Ayahuasca, but did not feel any desire to venture down that path of conscious exploration. My experience with hallucinogens were, for the most part, awful, where I spent most the time thinking people could read my mind. I was probably not doing it responsibly, but I'm terrible at using substances in moderation, or with intention. Thank goodness I wasn't a teenager during the 70's because I certainly would have died from jumping off a roof, convinced I could fly.

Speaking of destroying the earth, the other day I was listening to the radio and a NASA scientist was being interviewed because water has been discovered on Mars. I stopped in my tracks because it seems like a great time to find an untapped well, considering the water crisis. It will no doubt serve us when we have destroyed the air quality and need to harvest oxygen. It's very human-like to venture all the way to Mars when we run out of resources, rather than try to live within our means, much like using plastic utensils, and paper towels, that equate to ease in cleaning, even though these items are made half a world away, ride across the Atlantic, to the shipping trucks, then grocery stores, to households, then ultimately in a landfill. That plastic forks lifecycle equates to one second saved dishwashing.

This was my fist experience chasing the Ted Talks dragon, and I had a good time. I will spend an hour next time watching not banned videos, although I doubt I will have this much to say. That was a real doozie!

Circle Dream and Book

Resume the position.. It's like we never left

I went to Disneyland this weekend. It was a fun adventure, but I'm happy to be home. An hour after being home, I ordered groceries online, the kids put on Disney Junior, and I'm blogging, so once the food arrives, it will feel like we never left.
Friday morning, after taking off for Orange County, I received an email from the library letting me know my books came in. "Mother fucker, I missed out on new reading material for the trip!" I very foolishly thought to myself.
Not having any reading time on vacation shouldn't have been a surprise, since I know I sleep much worse on vacation. The kids insist on sharing a bed with me, so I'm buried under their bodies, barely able to get enough oxygen to stay alive. One kid lays over my stomach and another on my chest with their arm splayed over my face. Lights out by 8pm, or whenever we manage to get in the room, makes reading impossible, but its the only way to not be an unbearable grouch after George wakes us up at 5:00am.
This morning I woke up from a dream where I was eating myself out. It was very bizarre, and not even sexual. I was talking to somebody, it might have been my husband or sister, and then I realized I could eat my own box. I told them in some way, "Go ahead, I'll meet up with you," thinking it wasn't obvious I was going to further explore my newly learned trick.

My library is closed on Mondays, so we'll pick up the books tomorrow. One of the books I'm getting is Dave Eggers' The Circle because two hosts on NPR were talking about it last week. I resisted reading The Circle because Heartbreaking Work Of A Staggering Genius is one of my top 5 worst books, mainly because of that God awful title. The two hosts chatted up The Circle, and hooked me, so I figured I better read it before Danny Boyle makes it into a movie.
After I woke up from my dream, I tried to think of the meaning. I figured it had to do with The Circle. Heartbreaking Work of a Staggering Genius is basically 375 pages of Eggers sucking his own dick, plus a circle reminds me of a snake eating its own tail, and eating myself out is sort of circular, I'm just starting in the middle, in an amazing feat of flexibility, and starting with my box instead of my feet shows my preference with diving into dessert before dinner.