Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Hysteria (2011)

During one of the many Literature classes I worked my way through, there was a reference to the historical idea of "hysteria" -- an ailment affecting women that caused a wide range of symptoms (nervousness, agitation, cramps, etc.) and sometimes required the drastic treatment of a hysterectomy -- YIKES!!

So, when Hollywood decided to present a period piece, I couldn't miss it!  They took some artistic license with the actual, historical facts of the matter. Dr. Granville, the inventor of the electromagnetic vibrator, hadn't originally intended the devise for the purpose of female genital massage, but the film has him saving his aching hands from treating half of London (the female half) with the prescribed treatment of the time.

("I always start with a good bit of musk oil with a bit of lavendar"...Dr. Dalrymple.)

The "R" rating has everything to do with the context of the film.  The good doctors have no idea they are inducing what we modernly refer to as an orgasm.  They believe they are inducing a "paroxysm" (or seizure) that forces the uterus back in the right position causing immediate relief of all of their patients "symptoms".  The procedure is done with the women fully clothed, under a curtain.  The camera is focused on their faces and the ticking clock.

In the end, the doctor's daughter Charlotte, played by Maggie Gyllenhaal, hits the nail on the head saying that  the only thing troubling the women of the city is that they are married to dimwitted men who are either too selfish or too careless to make love to their wives in a satisfactory way. (There really are a few laughs in here!)

This period piece addresses several other historical points of interest for women's rights.  In the end, I was glad that they chose to make it a love story.  Women, in general, don't want to do away with men completely, but they do want the opportunity to live, work and thrive as a partner.  I'm not sure the suffrage movement or women's liberation has done much to bring us closer to that point.  But, I appreciate the historical nod at one thing we don't have to go through anymore.

Meaning...I can be hysterical and it has NOTHING to do with my the state of my uterus.

Friday, November 2, 2012

Flash Dance Hair

This morning, I woke up with flash dance hair.  Big, curly, wild and brown.  My hair, like my life, is never the same.  Sometimes, that's just me getting adventurous and shaking things up... like that one time I thought I'd go black for my birthday and found out that black is never temporary.  I say "shaking" it up, but even that really isn't necessary. My hair won't do the same thing two days in a row.  It's so obstinate in its originality that I've regretted any time I've ever gotten a hair cut intended for a single style.  It just doesn't work out.  Sameness and status quo do not go together with me.  I've learned a lot about flexibility and taking each day as it comes from having hair with a mind of its own.  I really have to wake up prepared to handle anything.  I need a plan and a contingency plan.  I need parameters of just how relaxed and/or professional my hair needs to be that day and a bundle of tools to get it there.  But, I don't like to waste my time on my hair.  Managing my hair has become an exercise in quick and creative thinking and I do it on a deadline.  I also regularly stand out in a crowd or become anonymous as people who should know who I am don't take the time to see my features -- only my hair.  Who knew hair that declares its independence daily would be a window into human psychology?

I wonder what it's like for people who have one hair style their whole life.  Are their opinions limited, their judgement exclusive, their day as dull ... as their hair?

Thursday, June 28, 2012

THE US CONSTITUTION

Article 1: Section 8

Clause 1: The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be uniform throughout the United States;

It turns out that the Supreme Court and I disagree on what it means to provide for the "general Welfare" of the citizens of the United States of America.  I believed that, in this case, the authors of the Constitution intended the use of the word to mean our general "good health, fortune, prosperity and well-being."  I guess the majority (5-4) of the Supreme Court Justices grew up believing the definition of the word to be "a governmental agency that provides fund and aid to people in need."

Brilliant. 

The medical insurance/pharmaceutical industries have been lining their pockets with the very lucrative consequences of fear for years.  Thanks to our government, none of them has to worry about one thing that is common to the general public -- the possibility of unemployment.

Friday, June 15, 2012

Apparently

ap·par·ent

[uh-par-uhnt, uh-pair-] 

adjective
1.readily seen; exposed to sight; open to view; visible: The crack in the wall was readily apparent.
2.capable of being easily perceived or understood; plain or clear; obvious: The solution to the problem was apparent to all.
3.according to appearances, initial evidence, incomplete results, etc.; ostensible rather than actual: He was the apparent winner of the election.
4.entitled to a right of inheritance by birth, indefeasible except by one's death before that of the ancestor, to an inherited throne, title, or other estate.

It turns out this is not a word that is intended to be inserted at the beginning of every sentence kids. 

Liar, Liar: Pants on Fire

These days, I feel like I'm hanging upside down from a telephone wire.  Recently, a girlfriend shared some information about one of our children's mutual friends.  It didn't feel like super hush-hush information, but I still didn't intend for it to fall out of my mouth the way it did to my daughter the next day in my just-waking-up-from-a-not-nearly-long-enough nap.  Crap. 

Of course, I pointed out that this information didn't need to be shared because it would just be hurtful, but, holy crap batman: do NOT tell me the directions to your batcave right now!

By the next day, I came home from church to find the 16 year old in crocodile sized tears, everyone (the son of the girlfriend, the girlfriend, the mutual friend who had negative things said about her AND the mutual friend's mom) were all calling my daughter a LIAR (and that is putting it mildly.) 

I couldn't reach anyone by phone and drove directly to Mom Y's house to confront her about calling my daughter a liar instead of calling and yelling at me for sharing the details of a "private" conversation (the comments had been made within earshot of most of our children).  Not understanding the hold that Mom X has on my girlfriend, Mom Y, I tried to call and smooth out all of the edges.  In a split second decision, I decided to go to the house of Mom X and make it my fault.  I alluded to the things that had come from my mouth but said that they had been "misunderstood."

I've never regretted covering the tail end of a friend as much as that moment of deception.  I wanted to protect my friend, who was (in my humble opinion) behaving irrationally based on some fear of knowing just how powerful Mom X is in that neighborhood.  But, what I ended up doing was to cause my daughter's friend to doubt her words and her motive. 

Her motive?  She wanted to put her friend on guard around Mom Y so that she wouldn't believe Mom Y is an ally when she is absolutely not.  Mom Y has some very unfriendly opinions about this girl that she doesn't want her to know about.

As for the backlash...

Mom X won't let daughter X come to my house anymore.  The reason?  Because I am a LIAR.  The awful part about is that for that one moment, I was.  I protected my friend...saved face for her.  In return, my daughter's integrity and my own are in question and this woman (and her son) had the gall to yell out, put down and use degrading language toward my little girl -- demanding an apology from her in the process.  Um...no.

Who needs enemies when you have friends like that?

Friday, March 23, 2012

Killing Facebook

Mums the word -- chrysanthemums on a headstone, that is.  Yes.  I murdered my facebook account.  I was sick of slipping on the soapboxes.  BONUS reason?  Working in an attorney's office I've learned that your very private facebook account is completely discoverable as evidence of just who you are (or who you show yourself to be) and I just don't have the energy for that.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Same Sex Marriage

This has been a hot topic of conversation even before California's Proposition 8 received so much attention.  My husband and I have wondered out loud at what is to be done and how, while remaining true to the Constitution, our government would respond to this issue.

My father-in-law is a Californian who read the document and said the reason it needed to be put down was not the issue of homosexual marriages, but some anti-discrimination wording that would force churches to perform gay marriages even if they felt it was immoral or against their religious beliefs. I haven't read it, but this post isn't exactly about that.

For me, I've wondered if the government would have to remove itself from the definition of "marriage" and only recognize "civil unions" whether they were of a hetero-, homo-, bi-, poly- or best friend sort of nature for tax, insurance and census purposes.  This would leave the definition of "marriage" up to religious groups who believe there are moral or eternal purposes and consequences to who we bind ourselves to (and how) in this life while equalizing the pursuit of life and liberty for all of America's citizens.

It really is a messy business and it is far from over.  But, I came across something I'd like to share with those willing to take the time to read it.  There is a gentlemen who is not only passionate about this topic, but he has some depth and logic in his viewpoint that may include some things you have not considered.  For me, the most interesting portion was his presentation of the history of same sex relationships and how they were not necessarily normal in that everyone was doing it, but accepted as a natural, loving bond instead of something, well, queer.  He goes on to give some analogies about marriage that I hadn't thought of -- perhaps because my family has a long history of NOT getting and/or staying married.  Please read with an open mind and share with me what you learn. It is the Mormon Midrashim's four part series on gay marriage.




Friday, March 9, 2012

Pictures of You Naked

Rocking out to the radio during my 45 minute commute before and after work is one way to prevent insanity.  However, the title of this blog is just one example of the in-your-face-sexual lyrics found in today's hip hop.  Skip the innuendo - the metaphor - the romance -- let's get to it!

Puh-lease tell me that this new version of "Welcome to the Jungle" is not working for all of the horny toad teenagers and boys-who-refuse-to-be-men and that the women of the world have not become walking pornography. Hold on, baby, while I jack off

Thank heaven for the seek button and an instantaneous switch to something sweeter.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

This Book Will Save Your Life by a.m.homes

I purchased this book on tape from the All-a-Dollar Store near my house, desperate to have something to listen to during the commute and was pleasantly surprised.  Granted, there is language and if you have an issue with the "f-bomb" you should NOT read this book.  If you don't have a problem with it, hold your horses before you think I'm recommending this read.

You see, the first four chapters were intriguing and full of thought provoking quotes I just had to share with friends.  Each of these sparked fantastic conversations on the social media wall (don't we all wish we could be using spray paint to grafiti a wall?!)  However, several chapters later I realized that, while all of these interesting plot twists were occurring, the depth had gone right out of the novel and been replaced with a Shock and Awe Campaign to rival President Bush's onslaught on Iraq.

Let's just say there will be a movie and the movie will not have a hard time squeezing one breathing-taking conundrum in next to every other one. I'm pretty sure the part that will get lost will be the search for the perfect location for the doughnut shop. Horses rescued by helicopter, massages in places you dont' want to know about, surprise famous writers and musicians next door, and don't forget about the homosexual son coming out of the closet by getting drunk and telling dad he wants to %$*& him -- oh!  or the Los Angeles earthquake that let's loose a flood of ground water and the hero of the book riding the wave out to the sea by floating on a dining room table made of styrofoam (hollywood movie set furniture). 

Did I spoil it for you with the spoilers? 

The only thing that held my interest in this book was the narrative point of view.  It was completely limited to the main character.  People were "the guy", "the woman", etc. until he knew their names.  It was like having this man's life unfold in front of my eyes.  Too bad it wasn't worth the view after the author gave up depth for gimics.


Saturday, March 3, 2012

Hair Cuts

I recently cut my hair (for the umpteenth time).  I hate it... though I can't say how much is there hair and how much is my body falling apart and how much might just be that I am working very long hours and commuting like a madwoman to support a lifestyle that I would never wish for myself or my children.  Daycare?  Fast food?  Family outings to Toad's "Fun" Zone?  Yeah.  Anyone who knows me knows these things are NOT me.

Hold on a minute while I take a deep breath and count my blessings.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

You Were a Rebel

The other day, a friend who joined my life more recently said this to me.  We were talking about the teen thing of generally pulling away from what you've known (whatever that is) to establish your independance.  I didn't argue with her or defend my own childhood choices, but it's been in the back of my head.

The two worst things I did as a teen was attempt to physically control my younger brothers and sisters (claws out) when left "in charge" and to believe that my own virtue was not worth saving if, by what the general "teens will..." expectation had done to my reputation, it was already lost.

I was a good student.
I liked to read.
I liked to help others.
I sat in the nursing home holding the hands of old men and women so they wouldn't feel alone -- like I did.
I did what my mom asked me to do.
I didn't use words that felt ugly in my mouth.
I didn't judge others.
I always went straight to the source when gossip reached my ears so I could hear the truth.
No coffee, tea, drugs, cigarettes, red bulls, prescription drugs or any other crap in my body -- even french fries are just gross.
I drove the speed limit.
I paid attention when I was babysitting.
I went to bed on time.
I made my curfew.
I always was where I said I would be.
I didn't try out for a million things I knew my mom couldn't afford.
I didn't ask for anything for Christmas or birthdays...because I knew my mom couldn't afford it.

I was far from perfect, but oh!  How I tried!

I wonder how many good people there are who are just not good enough for the perfectionist expectations of the adults around them trying to "protect" them.  I wonder how many naive young ones have made mistakes, not out of rebellion but a lack of training on how to handle different situations because the grown ups in their lives are too busy or too focused in another direction. 

Do the teens and pre-teens in your world a favor -- communicate with them (that means listening), tell them you are pleased with such-and-such a thing that is specific to them, and *ask first* before giving them your advice so they'll know you're offering your counsel for their own use and not because you are critiquing the way they are handling their own stuff.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Apple Cider Vinegar

While I'm not going to pretend to be an expert on all that this natural gem can do for you, I do want to tell you about our recent experience with WARTS.  (Ew!  I know, I know.  Witches and dirty bathrooms and other such grossness.)  Thing is, I've had a wart or two in my life.  I read once, after trying to dig, scrape, freeze and laser without success, that they will disappear on their own in three years (a consolation that turned out to be true), but who wants to wait three years for anything?!  (Especially for an ugly, painful wart to go away?)

When my five year old turned up with the biggest plantar wart I'd ever seen on the bottom of her foot, I couldn't imagine putting her through the torture methods I had tried.  I did a little research and found the idea of a cotton ball soaked in apple cider vinegar and duct tape every night for three weeks...The bad news is, we didn't have duct tape AND I'm just not an every night for three weeks kind of girl.  Instead, we soaked that cotton ball in a high quality apple cider vinegar, stuck it on with a bandage and removed it in the morning.  (I had a stubborn wart on my thumb and tried the same treatment so I would know what it felt like...it tingles a little bit and smells like dirty gym socks, but nothing bad.)

A week later, I remembered to treat it again. 

After the second treatment, my wart began to get black flecks in it and shrink.  My five year old's body was much more responsive.  The whole wart turned black and, within another week, FELL OFF, leaving a small crater of perfect pink skin!  It was wild.  My thumb took a third treatment and "disappeared."

If you have a wart -- especially on sensitive skin -- skip the freezing, scraping, digging, and lazers.  Go for the apple cider vinegar.  You won't be disappointed.

p.s.  I think it takes the body/immune system three weeks (at least) to kick it with the help of the vinegar.  At least now you know you don't have to smell the dirty gym sock smell every day.



Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Eighteen

At this time of the night, eighteen years ago, I was holding a sweet-smelling-squeaker mouse with a head full of black fluffy fur for hair on his head. His dark eyes wide. His long, thin fingers wrapped around my own. Not having watched him grow up makes it strange to me that there is, somewhere out there, a child that is an official adult -- old enough to vote, to be drafted, to get married (legally...not necessarily developmentally), old enough to be called a "man".

I've heard people say that they "feel old" because their children are teens or adults. I just feel like me. I'm not 17 anymore, but she's certainly in there. I'm bolder than I was then and more assertive. I live outside of my books and I don't believe every word other people tell me (the benefit of my doubt is usually for my own purposes). I'm less innocent and more tender. I've stopped daydreaming and live in the right now.

If he were here, I'd be getting him ready to graduate or go off to college. He might be talking about a mission or a scholarship or a new car or his girlfriend. He might never be home or I might be fighting him off of the computer games...who knows. The thing is, that's the most I've "what iffed" the choice to place him for adoption ever (for the purposes of this blog) because it was the right decision and so much would have changed. Here he is, in this special place in my heart. Forever. From 18 seconds to 118 and beyond.

Happy Birthday, Son.




















Friday, January 6, 2012

Folding Socks

Things a man does when he is single (not living at home with mommie):
Work full time
Go to school
Pay the bills
Play video games
Shower/brush teeth
Wash dishes
Wash laundry (in varying degrees of the sniff test)
Fold socks
Cook
Wash Dishes
Grocery Shop
Vacuum

Things some men do when they get married:
Eat
Sleep
Work
...Praise themselves for being fantastic enough to fold some socks...

The End