I Am Amused

I Am Amused

Tonight, I defended the concept of Freedom of Speech. I don't have to agree with what people say, hell, I don't even have to subject myself to reading it. But I do defend their right to say it.

Now my regular readers will know exactly how I feel about racism, homophobia, and any other form of prejudice or hatred. See that title up there? Poetic ACCEPTANCE. That is my philosophy, acceptance. And I whole heartedly disagree with those frames of mind that alienate any group of people based on color, race, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, etc...

BUT, I stand by my opinion that, despite my disagreement, racists, homophobes and whatever other groups of ridiculously hate-filled ignorant people have the right to express their beliefs and opinions.

Because you see, I like expressing my own opinions, and to say that people I disagree with don't have the right to speak, well... How long do you figure it would take them to say they disagree with me and say that I have no right to speak, based on their disagreement with my views?

So, here I am, trying to explain this. Trying to explain that I don't agree with racist views expressed on racist websites, but that I defend freedom. Well let me tell you, they were mightily offended! They went from zero to self-righteous in .03 seconds and immediately clamped down, refused to hear what I was saying, and... get this... forbade me to visit their blog ever again because she wanted nothing to do with a person with "these views."

OK, so... You don't agree with my views so I'm not welcome to read your blog? Well, haha, ok. So be it. Guess I'll stink up the place or something, I don't know. Struck me as pretty absurd, but hey, different strokes. I can accept that.

The part that really made me laugh? She A) questioned what I teach my children (you see, she's suddenly lumped me in with the racists now, without so much as making any attempt to learn what my views really are, and assumes, apparently, that when I tuck them in at night, I must surely tell them stories from the KKK's Nursery Rhyme pamphlets) and B) told me that the banner at the bottom of the page for Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep was 'disturbing.' Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep is a network of professional photographers who does charity work by offering their services to bereaved parents, and those who have found out that their child is terminal. That too, somehow, is offensive? That one I don't get.

Want to take bets? Gee, I'll betcha a nickle to a doughnut she had no idea what Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep was, and JUMPED TO CONCLUSIONS!

I feel a bit sorry for this person. I cannot imagine how difficult, miserable, and draining, life must be when you expend so much energy on anger and self-righteous indignation! But the good news is, she has the right to say everything she said, and I have the right to blog about it.

It's a thing of beauty indeed.

bleh

I missed Mona Lisa this year. She's already naked, save for a few bunches of deep red berries. I don't know how I managed to miss her fall foliage, I normally gravitate to her in the autumn. But then, I'm not gravitating toward the same things so much anymore. I'm gravitating toward new things. Things that are, in their own right, beautiful, but in vastly different ways. I've started really throwing myself into social situations, when those of you who've known me have always known that I had serious hermit tendencies. I'm trying to force myself to do the thing that everyone seemed to want me to do after Alexis. Get back to living, rejoin reality...

I find myself really grappling with this new sense of normalcy. There is a new Erin I haven't gotten to know yet. I think I'm trying too hard because I'm aware now that these are things I'm supposed to find. Before, it just happened (though admittedly, it didn't happen well.) This time I'm ready to find it, do it and get it done already.

I'm rushing me, and it just isn't really working out. I should know better, and just let it happen, but I don't make the conscious decision to do much of anything anymore. I'm on autopilot, and it seems to be programmed to the "go" setting. Sometimes I look up and realize I'm being dragged along, sort of like the bullrider that falls off but gets his hand stuck in the rope. Then I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I saddled up in the first place.

Weird. Passive proactive. Is there such a thing? I just do what I think I'm supposed to do without thinking about what I'm doing.

I'm pushing myself (whether by choice or not) too hard, and I know this because the people and things I've always enjoyed are no longer enjoyable. Like poetry. Just thinking of writing is draining.

Unwritten

Unwritten
This song makes me smile:

Unwritten
by Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, yeah, yeah

And this song makes me cry:

Hate Me
by Blue October
I have to block out thoughts of you, so I don't lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you, Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face
And will you never try to reach me, it is I that wanted space

(Chorus)
Hate me today.
Hate me tomorrow.
Hate me for all the things i didn't do for you.
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow.
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you.

(Verse 2)
I'm sober now for 3 whole months, it's one accomplishment that you helped me with.
The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won't touch again.
In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate.
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I'll drive so fucking far away that I'll never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

(Chorus)
Hate me today.
Hate me tomorrow.
Hate me for all the things i didn't do for you.
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow.
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you.

(Verse 3)
And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I have made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling "Make it go away!"
Just make her smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered "How can you do this to me?"

(Chorus)
Hate me today.
Hate me tomorrow.
Hate me for all the things i didn't do for you.
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow.
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you.

Listening to them back to back, on repeat, it's kind of like a manic depressive on crack. Up, down, up, down, updownupdownupdown. Weeeeee.

Actually, I have to say, it's been a good day. Most days I'm finding it really hard to get anything done. No motivation. Lots of "If I just Lay Here" (another favorite song lately - but I'm too lazy to find the lyrics for you and I can't find it on Yahoo Music. It's by Snow Patrol, if it's really important - go steal it with Limewire ;) ) days. But if I make myself get up (I manage that with varying degrees of success) and get something accomplished, it really helps. So yesterday, I gardened. Well, actually, I ungardened. I dug out and removed an assload of big cacti along the side of my yard and did a lot of autumn pruning, all in anticipation of separating all my lilies and replanting a bunch of them where the cacti were. I'm also doing some mental planning for a new flower bed in my front yard, with an arbor and a bird bath, some dusty miller and some lilies and some wisteria and something that cascades (suggestions anyone?) and some annuals like maybe pansies. Lots of color and movement, and if I can get the damn stray cat to go away, maybe even some birds. Again, I love left overs, rescues, and freecycle, we have an arbor, got the bird bath for free through freecycle, the lilies have multiplied so much I could do my whole yard in them, the only we have a new rescue azalea bush, plenty of dusty miller to separate and use, Wisteria grows like mad on the road sides in the spring... I think all I'll need to buy is a flat or 2 of Pansies, and the cascading whatever thingy.

Today I spent hours blowing leaves. Scott is the yard guy, by way of owning the equipment and doing it for a living. I, however, just like to play with his tools, and the leaf blower is my favorite of his toys. It's mindless work, and it's loud, which means no one bothers even trying to ask you anything. It allows me to accomplish something while remaining in my own little detached reality. The leaf blower affords me the opportunity to have the best of both worlds. I accomplish something, feel productive, but without having to actually deal with reality or think too hard about what I'm doing. 'Tis good.

And now I'm immersed in music, with headphones, while blogging, and chair dancing. I'll probably crash later, but right now, I almost feel human (Haven't had a shower since I did the yard work so I don't necessarily smell human, but whatever) and life doesn't suck too bad for now.

Funniest thing I've Read Today

Funniest thing I've Read Today
on Rosie's Blog, in "Ask Ro"

Michael writes:
Since Britney is dumping KFed... should we now call him FedEx?

LMFAO! That is all.

click it, quick!

I no longer enjoy blogging.

It's too much like work, requires so much energy. I read as much as Bloglines (and y'all's settings) will allow, but surfing is too hard, and replies are completely beyond me a lot of times. I am tired, and numb. And it sucks that I feel like I've gotten worse rather than better. It's pretty "normal" in the context of grief to have a sort of honeymoon period before it all comes crashing down. I know this, I expected this, but it still sucks. I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of feeling like a lousy wife and mother and friend. I worry that those of you who were there for me all along will think I'm just being ungrateful, or just an ass.

And yet, those worries don't change a thing.

So I come here and open a new post and the cursor blinks expectantly and I try to stare it down, but usually I lose and go to bed defeated. Sometimes I start a post, like this one. Type a while then realize I'm not making any sense or that my entry is so completely disorganized that it's mostly gibberish. Being a writer with a love of the revision process is my downfall lately. I still expect the quality, but haven't got the energy to acheive it, don't feel like proofreading and editing, so I either save as a draft or just close the damn window...

Anyway, I'm going to shut up before I become illiterate, hit publish post before I change my mind.

Lova you guys.

Give up

Monday morning I woke up early, and the frost made it abundantly clear that it was too cold to go rushing out for my first cigarette. By 9:30 though, the sun had gotten strong enough to melt the rime and I headed outside. I sat on the step and lit a cigarette and mulled over the implications of the day. It was cold enough that I was having trouble figuring out when it was smoke I was exhaling, and when it was just my breath. It was Monday. It was the 6th. It was the 7 month anniversary of Nova's death. Less than a month to his birthday. It all always degrades to that. 7 months later and I still count the days and weeks, I still wake up knowing the 2nd and the 6th without looking at a calendar. Sometimes what the head doesn't know, the heart does.

There is a line of trees at the back of the yard that separates us from the railroad tracks. It runs from the east corner of our yard to the west corner of the neighbor's, and it's grown too tall to block the noise of the trains, the branches are too high above the noise to catch and hold it. The birds though, the limbs are perfect for the birds. And as I sat there sifting through the mental detritus, a birdsong filtered through. 2 actually. One coming from the tree directly in front of me, and one that answered from a tree on down the row. Dee dee dee doo.... dee dee dee doo. Dee dee doo... dee dee doo. Whatever the first said, the second repeated, syllable for syllable, until the fellow from the neighbor's yard fell silent. No matter how many times the first one called, all that returned was nothing. I don't know if I imagined it, maybe so, but the song seemed to grow sadder. The notes were the same, but they were somehow duller. He continued to sing. Over and over, over and over, but there was nothing.

There on my side porch, trying to decipher smoke from breath, my ass frozen to the concrete step, I cried for that damned bird, and for the brightness that had fallen from his song, and for the heartbreak of calling and calling, despite the absence. I cried for the pitifulness of his hope that if he just sang long enough, the other would return.

Later that afternoon Terra and I came home from lunch with Trish and some other women, and I gave Terra this toy I'd originally gotten to donate to the hospital on Nova's birthday. It's used though, and I can't donate it. Terra had heard it in the back of the van playing this obnoxious song, and when she asked what it was, I had told her that it was a toy for the babies in the hospital. When I gave it to her at home she recognized the song and reminded me that I'd told her what I was going to do with it. She played with it very happily, then looked up at me and said "Mommy, guess what!? Nova's gonna LOVE this when he sees it!"

Apparently, all this time, Terra was under the impression that he was still at the hospital, that we just left him there and stopped going to see him. She thought that he was still coming home and that all this talk of toys for the babies there meant we were going to visit him. I had to explain it all all over again, how he wasn't at the hospital anymore, that he wasn't ever coming home. I don't know if I believe in Heaven, but when she asked where he was that's what I told her. And she said, through big tears, "Dophalin had to go to Heaven Mommy? But whyyyyyy?"

He'd been gone 7 months to the day, but as far as she was concerned, she'd just lost her baby brother. She cried and cried and cried until she gave up and fell silent.

She was the second little bird I cried for that day. And damn it, I'm still crying. I just wonder when I'll finally accept that it's pointless to cry into the emptiness.

Porn

Porn.

We all know it's out there. I'm not offended by (most of) it, and I'll even admit to enjoying a little of it ocassionally. I just happen to be of the mind that it should be enjoyed singularly, or with your partner. Am I wrong? Does an adult man who feels the overwhelming need to send out mass emails full of porn still get like cool points or something? Or is it as immature as it strikes me?

So Scott has this friend he races with in rFactor. They're a good bunch of guys and Scott loves his racing. But this one guy... I'm beginning to wonder if this guy isn't a teenager. You expect on some level for a teenage boy to be like,"Dude, check out this picture!" but as you get older, you kind of figure out that the other guys have already seen all those parts and pieces and positions, right? Don't you reach a point in life where you get over the urge to show off the pictures of the naked people doing things you only wish you could?

So anyway, this guy is forever sending forwards with porn. I always know when Scott gets one of these emails, because I hear this exasperated sigh from the other side of the room. It might be different if Scott actually liked getting the stuff, if he enjoyed the pictures or whatever, you know what I mean? Scott just isn't all that thrilled. He generally deletes them without opening them. He's asked the guy to stop sending it (Yes, really. I saw the email he sent.) but the guy just keeps sending it. I think it's kind of disrespectful to keep sending it if you've been asked to stop.

Maybe some day soon this guy will grow up enough to figure out that not every man who gets online is there to check out the porn.

Erin Monahan x12

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 12 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

God help them I hope they all have better luck than mine.

Yes, thank you for asking, I AM having a feel sorry for myself day. Terra is puking and shitting everywhere and has been for hours. She is NEVER sick, which means that A) I'm unprepared for the sudden mid-dinner onset of vomiting and B) she's finding it difficult to cope with being sick as she has no practice.

Those who have no children (or weak stomachs) stop here.

Still with me? OK, you were forewarned.

She at one point -in an unsuccessful run for the bathroom- wretched some unidentified lake of gunk in the middle of my dining room floor. Scott says "ewww" and I look at him like he's nuts (I mean, it's puke, gimme a break, right?) His reply was, "That sounded like it came out the other end too..." Being right up near the front end, enjoying the views and sounds thereof had masked any other sounds, and I missed the rear-end sound effects, but lo and behold, she'd no only puked all over, she'd left quite the odorific package behind her as well. Thank god for pull-ups. Unfortunately for me though, she's been dirty-diaper free for nearly 2 years and man did she/I/we really lose it over the shitty diaper idea. I was gagging, and she was yellin' "get it off me mommy, get it off!" I have two words for ya. Bath Time.

*sigh*

Plus my moods been rotten, the weather is yucky, my budget has been shot to hell by christmas shopping, and I'm anticipating QUITE the utilities bill this month, what with turning the heat on and all.

I've put in applications here and there, inquired about other jobs that wouldn't require actual applications... nothing. I've been a stay-at-home-mom for 2 1/2 years and apparently I've become unemployable. Like waiting tables is something a mother with 5 kids could possibly become out of practice for?

Tarheel Tavern #89

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+ Jude had a dream, a blogworthy dream - one to which she added photographs. Of it she says "It's all about missing a loved one who's no longer here." I have those dreams too Jude, thanks for sharing yours with us.

• Also, Jude has moved to http://iddybudjournal.blogspot.com/ and those of you who have her blogrolled or bookmarked will probably want to update, lest you miss out on Jude's journaling!

+ Dave from Evolving Education had a meeting about the ABCs, and there was a special bonus portion of the meeting...

+ Marcus posts about programs in the community that improve health status and avoid or decrease "sick care"

+ Dave from AnonyMoses sent me a piece of political poetry called LET us vote then, you and I. Despite my love of poetry, I'm not typically one for political poetry, but this piece, well, let's just say I can relate.

+ ZhaK says school's out over at A Fine Dish. I'm very glad to hear that, aside from an Iguana and a snake, there were no major injuries.

+ Billy, who will be hosting our Tavern next week sends in a bit of poetry, but Beware, the B Word Cometh!

+ Laurie is travelogue-ing from Italy. I'll freely admit to being insanely jealous, but thankful for the opportunity to live vicariously through her ;)

+ Phillip, our outspoken cyclist, blogs about the lost art of exploring.

"part of exploring is noticing what’s there. The other part is making a connection with what you find."

How true that rings!

+ Screwy Hoolie did such a fine job of writing his own intro that I'm not even going to try to improve on it! He says:

"This post explains the powers given to President Bush in the latest Defense Appropriations Bill - an expansion of the power to declare Martial Law being the most disturbing. The post also describes a perfectly reasonable yet terrifically paranoid scenario in which one could be imprisoned during a period of martial law, held without a trial or representation, tortured, and Lord Knows What at the whim of an out-of-control Executive Branch.

The post is a little more "out" than usual for me, but the facts are worth sharing."

+ Trish of Bubbles and Baubles has posted some pictures of her kids (and one of our whole bunch) from Halloween. My nephew (The adorable little guy in red in the first picture) turns one this week, and I just wanted to show him off.

This just in!
This late entry is a blog I'm completely unfamiliar with, and don't think I've ever seen before. Truth be told, even after reading and reading, I can't for the life of me figure out if this blogger is from NC, but hey, they submitted through the carnival submissions form, which is pretty clear about what you're submitting to sO I'm just gonna go with it. Someone solve the mystery for me though eh? Who is Peace Moonbeam!?

And that concludes this weeks Tavern, as always, I'm happy to add late submissions so if you'd like to be included, just shoot me an email (erin@poeticacceptance.com) with the URL of your post and I'll gladly add it in!

As I said, Billy will be hosting next week, and I've had the pleasure of adding some new names on the Hosting schedule and if you'd like to add your name to the list of esteemed hosts, please let me know and I'll add you to the schedule for the Tarheel Tavern!

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Please vote for Jennifer Wong to win a $5,000 blogging scholarship. She's a student science blogger who needs the money to fund her education and her blog. Your vote can help deliver that!