My Selfish Goal

      I've been thinking a lot about my goals, and how I can possibly achieve them.  I've spent the last few years raising my children and my loftiest ambition thus far has been to keep my sanity in tact.  I remember that I used to have goals for my life- doctor, lawyer, Marine Biologist- but they've all just sort of fallen by the wayside.  Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade my children or the precious time I spend with them for anything, but I did envision something different for myself.  It might make me selfish, but I'd like to acquire an identity outside of motherhood. 

      I don't want to go back to school.  Even though I finished my degree almost three years ago, I still have vivid nightmares about missing six weeks of a class I forgot I had, or trying to do ALL of my work-study hours in one day.  Those dreams are probably my worst nightmares to date.  But I want to do something.  Not to toot my own horn, but I am gifted in some ways I think- not all of them are evil.  I'd love to be a Career Author.  I'd love for people to read and enjoy things that I have written.  I'd love to watch my bank account swell with the royalties and profits from my adoring fans!  Ahem, anyways...

     I've written some stuff, but looking back on it, my heart wasn't really in it.  I wrote romances because it's supposedly the easiest and most profitable genre, not because I was particularly good at it, obviously.  I've submitted some adult-oriented stuff for contests and received fairly high reviews.  I guess, thanks to the fame of the Shades of Grey books, I could become Queen of the Smutkingdom.

    I want to write a novel that inspires the masses.  It will enthrall my readers, making it physically impossible for them to put my books down until they've read every single word-twice.  I want to write something that makes you think about yourself and your world differently; something that hangs with you for days, months, years even.  I want to publish a novel that makes Stephen King weep in envy of my awesomeness, and then I will use my newfound fame and clout to demolish his undeserving literary career.  Oops, that part was meant for my Evil Plotting notebook, not my Blog Idea notebook.  I really need to get a better filing system together. 

    I want to be a respected author before I die.  Of course, I'd have to have written something that's not garbage to accomplish that.  I guess I could write a novel that's somewhat worthwhile and then fake my own death, dead artists do seem to be the most popular.  Look at Michael Jackson, we all hated him and thought he was a creepy pedophile until he died. His estate has made millions of dollars since his death.  I think I'm onto something here, I'll make a note of it for my previously mentioned E.P notebook. 

:. I think Mr. Cropper left out two very important letters from his title .:

Candor

        I've been reading Divergent by Veronica Roth, and while I won't go into an in-depth analysis of the book, she does include a faction of society in her novel named Candor.  This part of her futuristic society values honesty above all else.  Citizens of Candor are always open and honest with absolutely nothing to hide and they wear black and white clothing as a physical representation of their beliefs.  She didn't mention how or if they avoided hurt feelings or not.  I think that this particular virtue is refreshing because I like to know exactly where I stand with someone, and it avoids the awkward he-said/ she-said Bullmess and endless hours of mind games and guess work trying to figure out motives and feelings.

      I haven't always tried to be honest.  I used to experience some sort of perverse pleasure from lying.  I would lie about what I had for lunch, if I had homework, and other unimportant stuff.  I was under the false impression that I was cool for being able to deceive others so easily.  I regret acting that way.  It wasn't cool, and it certainly didn't make me a better person.  I've hurt people with untruths, and in the end I am the one who suffers.  I've lost people because I haven't always been a good friend, and I want you to know that I am sorry, and you haunt my conscience every single day. 

     A quote from an episode of Frasier comes to mind "Honesty, having the courage to face each other with the honest truth."  Being honest does take a measure of courage, especially if you're at fault or have done something you knew or now know to be wrong.  I think that most people want other people to like them, and doing something wrong isn't a likable quality.  Sometimes it's easier to lie than to tell the truth, it spares unnecessarily hurt feelings.  Like when you're wife or girlfriend asks if she looks fat in her bathing suit- we don't really want your honesty because we'll feel bad about ourselves if you answer in the affirmative.

     Honesty is also a double-edged sword.  There's a big difference between being genuinely honest and brutally honest.  You can be truthful without making someone feel like dirt.  I know I've hurt people's feelings by telling them the truth, and I've also hurt people by telling them a lie- I feel better when you're upset over the truth.  I also have some issues with being too forward or blunt, and I try a little harder to keep my filter in check these days.

     We try and rationalize our reasons for lying.  We have invented terms like "White Lies" or "Fibs".  You're not telling the complete truth or you're omitting something on purpose so you can avoid drama, or otherwise withholding information for the other person's benefit.  Like when you're asked to a friend's party and you'd rather stay home and watch America's Best Dance Crew; so you tell them that you're visiting you Grandma in the nursing home.  It's better than telling them that their parties are a snooze and you hate their snobby boyfriend. 

     We don't always tell lies to protect ourselves, although that's often reason enough.  Sometimes we want to protect our friends or loved ones, so it's considered less bad because it's a selfless act.  You might even go as far as taking the blame for something that someone else did.  There's a lot of reasons for doing this, but it really doesn't make it more or less wrong. 

     For whatever reason, I've found myself wanting to be more truthful.  I don't blame Connor for the crayon drawings on the wall anymore, I don't think anyone really believed he could spell "Mommy is awesome" anyway.  Not to mention that my chronic Iron deficiency is screwing with my memory, so it's also more convenient to be honest rather than trying to keep up with all kinds of lies.

    I don't think we're born with the urge or ability to lie, but we pick it up fairly quickly.  When you do something you're not supposed to and you get caught, you get reprimanded and/or punished- basic Pavlov Conditioning Behavior stuff.  Connor has learned to lie.  He'll smile and hide something behind his back while saying "Nothing" and then usually he'll follow it up with "I love you, Mommy" and blow me a kiss for good measure. Or he'll spill soda in the bed and blame it on the dog.  And I don't really understand it, but he'll get hurt and then lie about being hurt.   I'm onto him now, so we'll see how creative he gets in his teenage years. 

My Real-Estate Plan

      Neighborhoods across the country have tried to wrangle gay men into their midsts with the secret intent of using their good taste to increase their property values.  I haven't been paying much attention, but an episode of Will & Grace said that it worked, so it must be so.  We're all aware that the housing market still sucks, but I have a great idea.  Haunted Houses!  They are actually more popular and in-demand than you'd think.  People actually want to rent them for a night for a haunted party, live in them long-term, or flock to haunted hotels in the hopes of experiencing the fright of their lives. I see boundless capital and marketing potential.
 
    Here's how it works: Choose a cruddy-looking house in your neighborhood and make up some sort of unfortunate story about a family who was murdered there, you should probably use your artsy, creative neighbor for this one.  Next, you'll need someone to change and/or falsify some public records relating to the house and its previous owners; your politician or cop neighbor should be really good at this.  Now you'll need to split yourselves up into teams and decide who's going to screw with the lights, knock people down stairs, and hide in the shadowy places and make a lot of creepy noises.  It's best if the loudest, most hideous sounds are at night so the unsuspecting inhabitants can't sleep and eventually become paranoid and start to hallucinate all on their own.  Maybe send a concerned neighbor over with a casserole and a crucifix who will then whisper to said neighbors about the gory past of the house.  They might also mention something about an Indian burial ground for good measure.  The falsified records will really come in handy here and when the inevitable paranormal investigators arrive (if your science/special effects friends can't help you here, then you can always pay them off). 

      Now you just sit back and wait.  With any luck, the television crews and reporters will show up in droves.  There's talk about movie and book deals, businesses all across town start to pick up, and new construction begins because everyone loves a good scare.  In the meantime, you're also promoting unity and cooperation in your community.  Everyone wins!

:. Relocated Tombstones are also a nice touch!.:

How I Use Facebook

       Facebook is the best thing ever invented, if you're a nosey person like me.  Who needs a Private Detective?  With a quick search, I can find out all sorts of stuff about you.  A lot of people have their profiles public (makes things easier for me), they claim it's because they have nothing to hide, I must disagree.  We all have something to hide.  Personally, I have my profile set to  super-duper private because I know that there are other people just like me trolling the Internets- and that's just scary.
  
      I also have what I like to call my Fakebook.  It's a made-up account with some random photos in the profile that kind of look like they have the same person in it.  I use this for people I hate with a burning intensity of a thousand Hells, but want to keep an eye on for whatever reason.  Keep your friends close and spoon with your enemies, right?  No...however that goes. I'm totally one of those people who will delete you, block you, report you as a cyber stalker, then use my friend's Facebook to see if you're talking about me.  That's not creepy, that's Ninja Spy School 101 stuff.

      I also use Facebook to promote myself and others.  I promote my blog, of course, and I promote whatever projects my friends are doing.  Sure, no one promotes me back, but I try to not be too bitter about it.  But I would like to take a moment to remind my fans of the Law of Reciprocity.  All of your social interactions are a game.  For example,  gift-giving.  If someone buys you a baby shower gift, they expect one in return when they invite you to their third cousin's baby party.  You give things with the expectations of having it returned (usually the gift should have the same or an exceeding value of whatever I gave you, thanks).  So, say that I share my brother's blogs and then he doesn't share mine- I in turn share my flu virus with him. 

       Facebook is also really good for bragging.  You take pictures of your fancy, expensive toys so all of your high school buddies see how much money you have.  Or, you list your Gross Income(and then add a few hundred million just to make sure people see how awesome I am).  You list all of your awesome jobs and projects and secretly smile when someone adds you and they're living in their grandmother's basement.  I have several people on my friends list who completely ignored me in school or we made each other completely miserable.  We don't speak to one another, but one of us decided that we should be online Facefriends.  Because now we're suddenly cool with whatever pissed us off in the first place.

        So now I don't even have to talk to any real people anymore.  If something happens in my life, good or bad, I just post it as a status update and expect friends and family to share it for me.  It's fan-freaking-tastic!  Also, reading News Feeds keeps me entertained for hours.  I mean, I never get anything done because I'm constantly sharing, posting, replying, playing Words With Friends, stalking people- I have a full social calendar obviously.  Oops, gotta go- someone just played a 30 point word!

:.My Son's A Pilot!.:

Everyone's Hungry

     Here's another topic I've had in my Idea Notebook just waiting to be voiced.  I'm a fairly avid reader, and I don't necessarily critique every book I read, I reserve that right for the ones that really stick with me, or strike some sort of chord in my brain.  I think it's safe to say that you're familiar with The Hunger Games because it's a movie, but it's also a book.  I haven't watched the movie yet, but based on past experience- the book is better.  (The reverse is only true for Stephen King novels.)  The Hunger Games trilogy was written by Suzanne Collins. If you haven't read them, I highly recommend them.  Spoiler Alert- the first one is the best, but if you're like me you'll feel obligated to read them all.

    I'd like to share my thoughts and ideas on the first book.  I wrote them down as I read, which is best because the ideas are fairly fresh and relevant that way.  I'll try and not ruin the ending or anything for you guys.

     - Stephen King's endorsement on the cover was initially a turn-off.  But, I figured if he liked it then it's probably not complete crap.
     - Wants vs. Needs: You can survive without the things you want.  It may not be a lot of fun, but it's easier to live without the things you want rather than living without the things you need.  Your basic necessities are shelter, food, and water.
     - Drafts:  The Hunger Games reminded me of the drafting process during wars.  If you don't have enough volunteers, you need someone to go out and die for the cause.  It's not really fair, but you're severely punished/ostracized if you don't go.  If you do go and you survive, you're welcomed back as a hero...unless you were in Vietnam.
     -Time: There's something tranquil about knowing when you're going to die.  You have the time and the inclination to finalize things that may otherwise have been left unsaid.  If I knew for certain that today was my last, I wouldn't die happily or peacefully but gratefully.  I'd be grateful for the opportunities and the blessings I've been given and for the people I've been able share them with.
    - Reality Television: Something like the Hunger Games would be the next logical step for reality TV.  I was reminded of George Carlin's thoughts on the All Suicide Network.  We already cover birth, weddings, imprisonment, the odd execution if we're particularly excited to get rid of you, surgery, addiction, drug abuse, sexual indiscretion, etc.  It could be like Extreme Survivor.  I bet a show like that would get good ratings in today's society.  We're a pretty depraved lot.
    - Government Control: People only have the control over you that you let them have.  Rules, rights, money, power, it's all an illusion.  There are more poor people than there are governing and/or wealthy people.  It's a fairly revolutionary idea that rears its head once every revolution or so, and the people in control dread the day that we finally remember that.  What really keeps us from taking what we want?  Fear of imprisonment for one, but those places are absolutely running over- or at least that's what we're told when someone rich and famous serves six hours of a three month sentence.
                      -Revolution: While I was writing this, I also had a conversation with a man who owns a business down the road.  We discussed the local and national economy and how money is basically useless.  $100 just doesn't buy anything anymore.  He said that what we needed, and I'd probably see it in my lifetime, is a revolution to put the government back in its place.  I liked the idea.  We've had revolutions before, and it helps for a little while but then things get all corrupt again and the cycle continues.  The fire in his eyes was compelling, though.  There's still plenty of fighting spirit left in the world, that's for certain. 
                      - Money: is really worthless paper that means whatever we say it's worth.  The same for everything else.  Remember those Furbies you paid hundreds of dollars for about ten years ago?  Utterly worthless now.  Sorry.
                      - Robin Hood: was so appealing because he took from the lazy rich and gave to the down-trodden poor.
      -Public Forms of Punishment: Not a new idea.  The Romans built Coliseums for people to watch prisoners kill each other (Gladiators) or to watch a hungry den of lions devour them.
      -Popularity: For the characters in the book, living depends on how popular you are.  The more wages in your favor, the more aid provided for you in the games.
      -Self-preservation: You can't trust anyone when your lives are at stake.  Even your closest friends will be compelled to save themselves over you.  Don't take it too personally, that's just the way evolution works.  The economically-challenged are viewed as weak, but they do have advantages because they rely on their wits to survive, and doing without isn't something new to them.
      - Unjust: People turn a blind eye to blatant injustice until it affects them personally.  They're outraged when it actually becomes a living, breathing thing clawing them from the inside out.  Like when one of Katniss' friends dies in the games, she suddenly understands what Gale was so angry with the capitol about.
       -Dispensable: People aren't a means to an end.  They're real, rationally thinking creatures just like you.  You may think that you're getting ahead by making friends only to drain them dry until they're no longer useful to you; but in the end, you're the one who's left alone and useless.  I'm reminded of the old adage "Be careful of  who you step on getting to the top, you'll meet them again on your way back down."

I'm interested to hear what kinds of ideas you guys had on the books.  Don't be shy!

-NSA: National Security Agency-

Perfection

    Since I haven't been at 100% in the last couple of weeks, I've found myself thinking about my life- more specifically about my children.  They pretty much consume my every waking thought anyway, but I can't seem to get over the miracle of them.

      My first Sociology professor explained how it's a miracle that babies are even conceived and the human race has continued. Making babies is a precise process.   The man has to have fertile, viable,  fast-swimming sperm; a woman's body temperature, ovulation cycle, weight, etc. must be absolutely perfect and that's just the beginning.  The egg has to implant, develop, and grow into a baby with ten wondrous fingers and toes.  A healthy baby is truly a medical miracle when you think about it. It's obvious that some people don't share this same sentiment by the way they abandon, abuse or mistreat their little charges.

     I've heard that babies begin as souls and those souls choose who they are to be born to.  I feel endlessly blessed and awe-struck to think that these two beautiful creatures chose me before they even knew me.  I mean, I loved them before I met them, but I'm already here.  I'm already capable of loving.  What made me so special?  There are plenty of women who are probably better mothers than I am who cannot have one baby- and I was given two.

     I was quite sick when I was pregnant with Connor, and for a few weeks afterwards.  I've mentioned that he was supposed to have been born with a facial birth defect, but he was born perfectly perfect.  I had premature Labor with Sissy and had to take a lot of medication to keep her all cozy in my belly, and she was still born early.  Her lungs weren't quite healthy, she was sick for a little while, but she was also perfect.  They both overcame something to be here...with me and it's a staggering, extremely humbling thought.  How quickly your life can change, and how even the smallest circumstance can create or destroy.  Life or death.

     Connor's baby horsey, Sweety Pie, as he has finally decided to name her, reminds me of my children.  Really, she's a miracle, too.  We hadn't planned on her, we weren't prepared for her, but she's here anyway.  Life is amazing.  It's so easy to become bogged down in negativity and all of the snares of the world, but it's not really worth being all torn-up about.  As long as we're healthy and happy and alive, you really can't ask for one more blessing.

:.Connor Lathan.:

:.Sweety Pie.:

:.Temperance.:

  

Do No Harm

     I've been thinking about this post for several days.  At first I was tired, defeated even, and then I didn't want to make people mad, followed by unsure how to word what exactly I wanted to say, and my inner journey eventually dumped me firmly in the perpetual state of Pissed.

      Unless you're close to me, or have been the unfortunate victim of my Hellfire Wrath over the last month or so, you probably don't know that I've been pretty bad off.  It came to the point where I thought that I'd actually need a blood transfusion, if you catch my drift- which would have been very inconvenient since I have no idea what my blood type is.  I hate going to the doctor, even moreso when I no longer have medical insurance, but I couldn't concentrate anymore, and I forgot where I was half the time, bad way to be when you're driving two kids around with you.  Finally, I had to agree that I needed to get looked at.

     I decided that my best bet would be with the physicians who treated me when I was pregnant with Tempe since the physicians who delivered Connor already proved themselves incompetent.  Since hatching Tempe, my doctors have signed on as hospital staff physicians instead of private practice OB/Gyns.  The atmosphere was markedly more tense and hospital-like since their transition.  There were only one or two nurses on staff who I recognized, and the lab technicians had been replaced.  Since the hospital has taken over, I was required to fill out new paperwork.  I tried to be as honest as I could with the Q&A part of the form, but by the time I worked my way through ten pages of liability and consent forms, I was pretty bored and just wanted something done to fix the fountain that had become my Lady parts.

     After two hours of waiting, I was taken to a room and handed a paper gown that I probably had on all wrong.  The doctor read my file alright, enough to see that I didn't have insurance- because those were the first words out of his mouth.  The second was that it was probably post-partum depression.  I was pretty prepared for that, but it irritated me anyway.  Of course I'm depressed.  I have zero energy, I'm using gallons of clothing detergent to get the gallons of stains out, and I'm fairly certain that I could keel over at any time- but it's not post-partum related.

     He went ahead and performed my PAP because it was due and then looked at my chart.  From whatever boxes I'd checked, he decided I must have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.  That would be just fine if I was infertile and lots of other things I don't suffer from.  I was perfectly normal until last month, it's in no way chronic, but he seemed proud of himself and I'm poor so that was that.  He gave me stuff to fix me presently, but in a couple of days I'll get a lot worse before I"ll presumably be all better again.  Impressed I was not.

     This is the part that I've fretted over.  I've tried to reason it, argue it, beautify it even.  But in the end I decided to write exactly how I feel.  It doesn't matter if it's rhetorically-sound or politically correct.  This is my blog, my little corner of the universe where only my opinion matters, and if you don't agree with me then so be it.

      The 'bottom line' should never be more important than helping people.  The medical profession is supposed to be about healing.  I understand that you had to pay lots of money to obtain the specialized knowledge that you have, but poor, disenfranchised people get sick, too.  And not everyone without medical insurance is necessarily poor either.  Now, not all doctors are like this, I know enough physicians who help people when they know they have no way to repay them to not completely hate and/or discredit the whole lot.  They're not filthy rich, but they have a devoted following and respect that money cannot buy.
      
     Hospitals are businesses, not a mecca for the ailing- just in case you were somehow that delusional.  People with insurance often receive useless testing because Hospital Bureaucrats know that your insurance will waste lots of money for you to have them.  While people without insurance are given the bare minimum.  It doesn't even matter if the patients are millionaires with the economic ability to pay for whatever will make them better.   

     I'd go as far as to say that 98% of doctors chose their profession based on its earning potential.  I have to admire doctors who participate in programs to help impoverished peoples at home or abroad, but their spirits are quickly deflated because their programs are tragically underfunded both monetarily and medically.  Most illnesses can be prevented with inoculations and cured with antibiotics, but these things are hard to come by and expensive. 

     I'm not saying that anyone should treat me for free, but I am saying that we all have the right to equal medical treatment, regardless of income or coverage.  It's not something you can appreciate without living it or seeing it firsthand.  Saying that might make me a Socialist or whatever, but I consider myself a Humanist.  Money doesn't matter.  Money is a useless piece of paper that is supposed to be a representation of however much gold we may or may not have in a vault somewhere.  Gold is worth whatever WE say it is.  Thusly, money is worth whatever WE say it is.  Just like the Constitution says whatever Congress says it says.  We could wake up tomorrow and Gold could be absolutely worthless, or it could go through the roof and be worth Trillions of dollars an ounce.  Money is worthless!  People are not! 

     I know that my OB/Gyns are not bad doctors, probably not bad people either, but I can honestly say that this last visit was disenchanting at best.  He diagnosed me, but not because he put forth any real effort and if he has fixed me, then it was just good luck- not because he actually tried.