I’m tired.

Today I’m supposed to write about my writing, but I just ain’t feeling it. I’m just so DONE right now.

Look:

I posted this on my personal Facebook page.

Feeling sore, tired, and feverish today. I think the past several weeks are finally taking a toll. I just want to crawl under my afghan and cry myself back to sleep. Everything just feels so damn difficult – ten steps back for every one step forward. I know this is just one moment in time and it will pass and I’ll feel better, but right this second I can’t imagine getting through this tunnel. It’s like every time I turn on the light the furniture has been rearranged and I have to figure out anew where the exit lies. For now, I’m done searching. I’m simply exhausted. Gonna sit down and relax for a bit. The world can just work around me for a bit instead of vice versa.

I guess it’s no wonder.

I mean, I’ve spent more time in the last month in hospitals, emergency rooms, doctor offices, and other medical-related place, than I ever have in a lifetime filled with physical issues beyond count.

It’s ridiculous.

Not the care I’m receiving – that’s been outstanding, for the most part. But it just keeps going and going and going. I’m ready to be over this bit and on the part where my daughter and I are both healthy.

Oh – my daughter.

I haven’t even mentioned her trials yet.

She suffers UTIs {urinary tract infections} more than any nine-year-old should. Like, a serious enough number of them to make our family doctor scratch his head and decide to send her to a specialist.

A pee-ologist, if you will.

Nah, just kidding. It’s a urologist. But my way sounds better.

So while I have been recovering from my unexpected double-surgeries , complete with weekly follow-ups and a trip to the ER, my baby girl has been to the ER, too, due to UTI-related fevers approaching 105 degrees.

{That’s Fahrenheit. I don’t know the Celsius equivalent. I’m sorry, UK and Australia and all you other Celsius–users. Please forgive an ignorant American.}

And in addition to the ER visits for the kid, she has also been back-n-forth to Children’s Hospital for testing of her bladder and kidneys to see what their beef is, if any.

So, I’m happy to say, she’s okay for today.

But I’m not.

I received a call earlier today from my doctor explaining why I’m having such a hard time healing properly:

The cultures they took at the ER revealed evidence of not just one or two, but FOUR separate infections.

One of them is E.coli.

Yeah, as in poop.

I have poop germs in my incision. How the fuck did those get there? I certainly didn’t poop onto my belly {your welcome for that mental image}. And I don’t touch my ouch-spot with poopy toilet paper or wipes or whatnot.

I think it was the revelation that poop germs are infecting me that sent me over the edge.

Because, you guys, that’s not fair. I’m fastidious. I shouldn’t have poop germs on me. Or around me. Or anywhere near me.

For a crazed moment in time, I felt like spraying an entire can of Lysol onto myself. Then I came to my senses. Lysol is expensive. Too costly to waste on my sliced up belly when I have like five-hundred antibiotics on the job.

Tomorrow I will get some answers.

I have an appointment with my doctor – my gyno – my surgeon – whatevs – and I’ll ask her why I have been visited by so many germs, including the caca ones.

I’m also having some extra skin trimmed off. Which is as disgusting as it sounds. My incision didn’t close up in a pretty or orderly fashion, and the top lip overhangs the bottom so there’s just this flap of useless skin hanging around.

But that’s all tomorrow.

For today, I’m going to stay under my afghan.

Magical healing powers, remember?

For now, I will leave you with this doodle I did a couple weeks ago at my sister’s house while I was busy learning how to pull up my panties by myself.

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Poop Day Giveaway!

Today is Poop Day .

I have to empty my bowels for my surgery tomorrow. It’s no fun.

So I thought I’d try to make me some Silver Lining by giving away a book.

But not just any book – my current favorite!

The World For Realz’ first monthly book giveaway is a real gem, and I hope you love it as much as I do.

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry

Here is Amazon’s summary of this wonderful tale by Gabrielle Zevin :

“A. J. Fikry, the irascible owner of Island Books, has recently endured some tough years: his wife has died, his bookstore is experiencing the worst sales in its history, and his prized possession – a rare edition of Poe poems – has been stolen.

Over time, he has given up on people, and even the books in his store, instead of offering solace, are yet another reminder of a world that is changing too rapidly.

Until a most unexpected occurrence gives him the chance to make his life over and see things anew.

Gabrielle Zevin’s enchanting novel is a love letter to the world of books–an irresistible affirmation of why we read, and why we love.”

If you are a lover of books, you should definitely enjoy this story.

A.J. offers up quotes, his thoughts on various titles, and bits of advice throughout the pages.

If you have ever worked in the book industry, whether as a book seller, publisher, or agent, you will find yourself nodding and laughing at so many of his observations and complaints.

What I find ironic is that this book did not receive a large amount of acclaim, and almost went unnoticed – while describing therein a book entitled The Late Bloomer which suffers a similar plight.

The genre is literary fiction, containing a bit of romance and mystery, along with some suspense, comedy, and heartache.

I listened to the audio version and as soon as I had completed the book, I forced my hubz to listen to it as well. He loved it almost as much as I did – not a surprise, as we met when we were both working at Borders.

Guess I should mention that I haven’t received any compensation for this review. I wouldn’t even know how to go about such a thing. I just like this book a lot and want to share it with you.

This contest is open to US entries only, and most likely I’ll have Amazon send it directly to you. Or maybe I’ll go to the bookstore and buy two copies – one for you, and one for me! – and mail it to you myself. You just never know.

Good lucky, everyone, and have a happy Poop Day!

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I wish unto you a very merry Poop Day.

My calendar is funny.

I write normal dates in, like my nephew’s birthday, appointments, events – that sort of stuff.

You know, the reason to have a calendar in the first place.

But I also write non-essential notes on my calendar.

In reading over last year’s agenda, I find I wrote things like:

• Buy worlds.


• Visit stupid people.


• Day of the worms.


• Map that shit.


• Call fart-face.


• Fire someone.

There are also multiple doodles, but since they involve poorly drawn stars and shit like that, I am not including them.

#SorryNotSorry

Get your own squiggles.

This month is no different.

My calendar is funny and there are doodles and stupid reminders which mean nothing to strangers but which make perfect sense to me.

You should be jealous of how funny I am in my own mind.

But there is one note on this month’s calendar which LOOKS funny and actually isn’t.

I mean, it’s funny to write about, but it’s not going to be funny when it happens. I am completely losing my shit over this upcoming event.

Literally.

Two weeks from now is Poop Day.

See, I’m scheduled for surgery on Tuesday, August 19 – which happens to be my hubz’ birthday, so I know I won’t die because that would render my death cruel and senseless, whereas I plan to die a motherfucking hero, like by saving a kid from getting run over by oncoming traffic, or something cool like that.

Death by uterus removal on my lover’s bday? Not so much. No effing way. Not happening.

Yeah, my surgery is that hysterectomy you’ve heard so much about. I am very excited, insofar as one can be excited about organs being cut out of one’s body. I guess I should say I am very excited to be rid of my pesky and worthless uterus, albeit not necessarily of the process thereby.

It’s gonna be awesome… eventually.

The day prior to surgery…

…patients are required to void their bowels.

This means, in simple terms, I will be shitting my brains out on Monday, August 18 – Poop Day.

And since I will be shitting my brains out, I need to plan ahead for it. Like, there should be plenty of toilet paper in stock, along with baby wipes for when things get ugly.

And – most importantly – there should be no people in this motherfucking house, you guys.

• My baby girl will be spending some extra time at her dad’s house.


• My son will be going to class, and from there to work, and I told him he needs to have plans to be OUT that night.


• I’m forcing my hubz to work an open-to-close shift so he’ll be gone during most of the trauma.

Just to double-check that no one forgets or overlooks this date, I had to write it on the calendar.

Hence, Poop Day is now a scheduled family event.

I ain’t trying to run to the toilet every five minutes with people around snickering about my activities. And I certainly do not want the aroma de caca which will surely permeate the air to become a subject of discussion, particularly while I’m suffering the throws of dukedom.

Wooty-Pooty!

I get to use Gatorade instead of just straight-up water! Wooty-Pooty!

I was worried I might have to have an enema, which I believe is something you stick up your ass, and I was not looking forward to this in the slightest.

Thankfully, there will be no butt-insertion for this shit-fest. Rather, I had to purchase a powder called Miralax which I am to mix with 64 ounces of Gatorade. I am to drink 8 ounces of this concoction every fifteen minutes, with no dilly-dallying or pussy-ass sipping. It specifically says so. Or something to that effect, anyway.

The drinking begins at 1pm. That’s on the calendar, too.

My calendar is funny, indeed.

Is your calendar as funny as mine?

• Have you ever indulged in some good ol’ Miralax poopage?


• How soon after the first glass do you think the party will begin?


• What flavor of Gatorade would you choose for your Miralax potion?


• Would you be okay hosting Poop Day with your family underfoot?

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Mom let her 12yo get a tattoo and everyone loses their shit.

There is an article getting passed around by enraged moms regarding a twelve-year-old kid who was allowed to get a tattoo. The pissed off crowd has decided that the mother of this child is a bad parent who shouldn’t be allowed to have children; that she is abusive; and that she is a horrible person.

The horrible people the ones who are condemning someone when they don’t even have all the deets.

The bad moms are the ones who have been socially conditioned to think that THIS form of mutilation is bad, while others are okay.

What a bunch of bologna.

Moms, you abuse your kids all the fucking time. And we have decided, collectively, that it’s okay. Let me give you a personal example.

1. I have a daughter.

My daughter Abbie getting her ears pierced. There was much ice cream had that day.

She is nine, just finished the third grade. I wanted to pierce her ears while she was still a baby, but her father wasn’t for this plan.

Instead, we had it done when she begged us to do at the age of six. Changing the earrings was too difficult, so she let them close up, and has decided she wants to get it done again for her upcoming tenth birthday.

2. I have a son.

He is twenty, working his way through college. He is circumcised.

3. We like family dinners on the go.

We take our kids out for family night occasionally at fast food places. You know those Golden Arches serve poison, right? You’ve seen the documentary SUPER SIZE ME, haven’t you? So-called “food” from McD’s has poop in it.

Not to mention processed and/or sugar-packed foods like boxed macaroni, pop, candy, and basically everything you’ve ever served your children throughout their lifetimes that isn’t a carrot or a blueberry.

4. Speaking of feeding your kids…

My sister was unable to breastfeed her babies. That’s a huge no-no in this current age of mommy-shaming anyone who doesn’t do things the “natural” way. I don’t stand by that theory, but I know many who do. They, my friends, are bitches.

My sister loves her kids and is a super model of what a mom ought to be.

Also? Her kids aren’t a-holes. They turned out to be pretty fucking spectacular. All three are ahead of the curve academically, and none of them have ever been in any trouble, and moreover, they like me and they like to read.

So maybe this last one wasn’t the best example of how we have collectively decided it’s okay to abuse our kids in certain ways, since NOT nursing babies is NOT, in fact abusive. It is, however, a great example of how we are in the habit of picking and choosing what’s okay and what’s not.

Because, you know, our society is never arbitrary in its decision-making. {*rolls eyes*}

To recap:

We have decided, as a culture, that it is perfectly acceptable to punch a hole through our children’s skin. That’s pretty goddamn abusive, y’all.

We have decided, as a culture, that it is perfectly acceptable to chop off a piece of our kids’ penis. That’s pretty goddamn abusive, y’all. Of course, there is now a movement that regards this act as a horrendous betrayal of our boys, in that we are disfiguring them without their permission. Those people ain’t all wrong. I don’t regret having the procedure done, as there were medical complications requiring it, and he has zero problem with the fact that I had his foreskin lopped off early on in childhood, but that makes it no less abusive an act.

Also? Completely unrelated here, but no less relevant in my opinion, is the fact that I’ve been with guys on both end of the spectrum, and I happen to much prefer those who have been circumcised. It’s okay if you think I’m bitchy for that, because I’m married and I ain’t fucking you, so really you don’t have to worry over my opinion.

We have decided, as a culture, that it is perfectly acceptable to poison our children {otherwise Gold Arches and the like would have closed down years ago, and there wouldn’t be any boxed macaroni on the shelves}. That’s pretty goddamn abusive, y’all.

We have decided, as a culture, that it is perfectly acceptable to abuse our kids in certain fashions.

I’m not writing this in an attempt to sway anyone into thinking that allowing your child to get a tattoo is okay. Honestly, I’m not. We each have to do what we think is best for our kids, based on our own values, morals, cultures, personal histories, etc.

And I’m not trying to defend this woman’s choices, since I don’t know her – and moreover, neither do you! Maybe the tat-giving mama is a piece of shit. But it ain’t because she allowed her kid to get inked.

I just want you to think about it.

We have been culturally conditioned to think that some forms of child abuse are okay. How is a tattoo worse than an ear-piercing, or circumcision, or feeding your child spaghetti-o’s? The answer, logically, which means with removal of all emotions and preconceived notions, is that it’s NOT.

It’s not different. It’s the same kind of thing.

And it’s okay to argue, “But it FEELS different!”

Yes, it does.

It feels different because as a society we have decided that tats are bad.

And you can keep thinking that.

I’m not here to tell you to stop thinking that.

But “different” is not the same thing as “abusive”.

It’s okay to admit that you don’t understand why tattooing your kids seems worse than ear-piercings, circumcision, or tacos from the drive-through window. To be honest, I probably wouldn’t let my little girl get a tattoo, either.

Not unless there were extenuating circumstances.

Like, for example, with my son.

I let my son get a tat when he was 16.

I even paid for it. He had overcome my divorce from the man who had raised him for five years, and was subsequently dealing with a new man in the house. He also had to endure racial hazing from the football team, since he is half-Hispanic in an all-white, small-town village.

He joined the wrestling team, where he excelled {he went to State his senior year}, and managed to keep his grades up the whole time. He tends to only date girls at the top of their classes academically, and of those, the majority of them have been valedictorians. His friends are super nice guys who still come over regularly. His field of study: physical therapy and sports medicine, because he wants to help people take care of their bodies.

We’re talking about a generous kid who makes smart choices, even in the face of hardship. And he wanted a tattoo. He didn’t have a lot of control over his life at the age of 16. I gave him something he could call his own. And you know what he ended up getting? A stone cross on which are “carved” the names of his siblings.

I know, he’s such a jerk, amirite?

My son Christopher’s 2nd tattoo reads “Faith” until it is turned upside down, at which point it reads “Hope”. He’s badass like that.

He has since gotten himself more tats, and all are equally positive. The first one he got himself was the word “Faith”, which, when turned upside-down, reads as the word “Hope”.

The second and third ones were a self-affirmations:

“With pain comes strength” and “Believe in the impossible”.

Yep, total a-hole over here.

He and I plan to get matching tattoos for his upcoming twenty-first birthday.

We are getting the Batman symbol as a reminder that even in our darkest hour, there will always be someone we can count on to save us – each other .

We used to read comics together when he was little, and this will forever be a sign of our shared interest, even as we grow apart and no longer like the same things. I’m honored he wants to share this with me.

Okay, yeah, it was my idea, but I’m stoked at how excited he was over it.

My son Christopher’s 3rd tattoo is a positive affirmation which reads “With pain comes strength”. He’s a wrestler and a weight lifter, so he really ought to know.

Speaking of tattoos as symbols…

A young friend of mine lost her father not long ago. She got a tattoo to commemorate his life, with a phrase that reminds her of him.

It’s easy to condemn people you don’t know.

It’s easy to assume the worst in others. It’s easy to fall into an “US versus THEM” mentality. On one side are all the good moms, and on the other side are all the bad moms.

But who gets to decide what’s “good”?

A mom let her twelve-year-old child get a tattoo.

Does this constitute child abuse? No. Not unless you start taking into account all the other ways we have decided it is okay to abuse our children.

Is the child hurt? No more so than any of the other number of ways we have decided it is okay to hurt our children.

Is the mom horrendous? We don’t know. Maybe her kid needed to feel control over something, and maybe this was her creative way to try and reach him/her. Maybe it was a cultural thing.

We JUST. DON’T. KNOW.

Does this impact you?

{*shrugs*}

Not really.

So why are we all up in arms over it?

Why negatively judge someone else?

You’re not doing your kids any favors by teaching them to hate on someone over petty, pointless nonsense that, at the end of the day, doesn’t hurt anyone else.

Just keep on being the awesome mom you are, and leave other people alone.

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Summer Reading Lists

Summer Reading Lists are important.

Every year I get some kind of workbook for Abbie to bridge the long months between school’s end and beginning.

You might think I’m mean for forcing my kid to do worksheets and reading projects and quizzes and vocabulary when we’re supposed to be forcing our children into the great outdoors.

That’s fine.

You can think what you want.

But there is a reason my child has achieved an advanced reading level, and it ain’t because she is out cavorting in the sunshine.

We can haz skillz.

This might come off a wee-tad Tiger-mama-ish, so let me back the truck up and explain before you get all defensive and accusation-y on my ass.

1. We are poor.

My kids are only getting into college if they can pay for it themselves, and if they can qualify for grants, and if they can nab a few academic-based scholarships along the way. Kids who possess excellent reading skills are usually more inclined to actually ENJOY reading.

So, for us, summer reading lists aren’t really as torturous as they sound.

2. She needs help.

More than pushing Abbie to succeed, however, I’m giving her some early guidance in sustained study habits.

The kid takes after me when it comes to retention – as in, it’s fairly non-existent. When she doesn’t use a skill regularly, it tends to fall out of memory, and then she has to re-learn the skill all over again. This is especially true with math, so we have some work in that area lined up, too.

This really falls under the “Use it or lose it” mentality.

Conversely, “Practice makes perfect” – or, if not perfect, at least something substantial.

3. I need help.

Finally, summer reading lists provide scheduled, quiet work time during which she sits at her desk studying while I sit at my desk writing. That’s the general idea, at any rate. What I actually accomplish during this two-hour period is the subject of a different post.

Which books make the cut?

Typically I am lazy and lackadaisical when it comes to assigning material, choosing books based on the lists at the back of one of the workbooks. This year, however, I didn’t actually purchase a workbook since there is just so much available for free online.

I decided to put together my own list.

I started with my local library . They provide grade-level suggestions on handy bookmarks, and even if Abbie read nothing else but these short lists, she’d be doing well.

But I like to make things harder than they have to be, so I also consulted a site some out-of-state school posted last year. The school has shared a lot of other good material, but I was particularly interested in their summer reading lists .

From NPR: “The Ultimate Backseat Bookshelf: 100 Must-Reads For Kids 9-14″

Finally, NPR released an awesome list last year entitled 100 Must-Reads for Kids 9-14 which has way too much to cover in one summer! But… my daughter is 9, so not all of the books on this particular list would be age appropriate for her anyway:

• WATERSHIP DOWN by Richard Adams is far too advanced for Abbie. Or for me, if I’m being honest. Any book that comes with its own glossary of made-up words is too hard for summer.


• THE GIVER by Lois Lowery is on par with her reading level, but too advanced emotionally. I know this one for a fact. Love this book hard, but I’m not trying to make Abbie cry this summer.


• CHARLOTTE’S WEB by W.B. White is one she read two years ago. And then again when she realized it was an animated film. And then a third time last year as a school project.


• MRS. FRISBY AND THE RATS OF NIMH by Robert C. O’Brien is another she has already covered. Because she has a fabulous mother who has great taste in middle grade fiction.

The making of a summer reading list:

I combined all these separate lists into one, deleting duplicated, as well as those we’ve already devoured along with those we aren’t interested in this summer. And I came up with MY OWN 100 books. Still way too many to handle, yes.

So I highlighted a few of my personal faves:

• PETER AND THE STAR CATCHERS by Dave Barry


• THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ by L. Frank Baum


• THE SECRET GARDEN by Frances Hodgson Burnett


• MATILDA by Roald Dahl


• HALF MAGIC by Edward Eager


• A WRINKLE IN TIME by Madeline L’Engle


• A Series of Unfortunate Events #1: THE BAD BEGINNING by Lemony Snicket

Then I highlighted a handful I’m interested in reading myself:

• POPPY by Avi


• TUCK EVERLASTING by Natalie Babbitt


• THE HOUSE WITH A CLOCK IN ITS WALLS by John Bellairs


• THE LAST OF THE REALLY GREAT WHANGDOODLES by Julie Ewards


• THE DOLL PEOPLE by Ann M. Martin


• American Chillers #2: OGRES OF OHIO by Jonathon Rand


• MANIAC MAGEE by Jerry Spinelli

And I highlighted any that contained “Fourth Grade” in the title, as I thought Abbie would enjoy grade-specific material:

• TALES OF A FOURTH GRADE NOTHING by Judy Blume


• THE FABLED FOURTH GRADERS OF AESOP ELEMENTARY SCHOOL by Candace Fleming


• FOURTH GRADE FUSS by Johanna Hurwitz

I highlighted several titles of cultural, historical, or scientific interest:

• LOU GEHRIG: THE LUCKIEST MAN ALIVE by David Adler


• CHASING VERMEER by Blue Balliett


• MISSION CONTROL, THIS IS APOLLO by Andrew Chaikin


• D’AULAIRES’ BOOK OF GREEK MYTHS


• TALES FROM THE ODYSSEY by Mary Pope Osborne


• FAIR WEATHER by Richard Peck


• AMERICAN BORN CHINESE by Gene Luen Yang


• 2030: A DAY IN THE LIFE OF TOMORROW’S KIDS by Amy Zuckerman

And I rounded out the list by highlighting a couple easy-peasy books to give her brain a break:

• The Secrets of Droon #1: THE HIDDEN STAIRS AND THE MAGIC CARPET by Tony Abbott


• BUNNICULA by John Howe


• MARY POPPINS by P.L. Travers

That’s 28 books.

Still too many to cover in one summer, most likely. And yet not even close to what I would love for us to cover. But that’s what TBR lists are all about, amirite?

For the record, Abbie wanted me to come up with my own summer reading list, too. So I did.

By an odd coincidence, there are 28 books on my list, too. And I am positive I won’t get to all of mine, either. Although I have two marked off because I’m about to finish ‘em.

Still, now we can have a little competition.

Shit just got real, y’all.

• Do you put together summer reading lists?


• What would you add / skip on the lists I’ve provided?

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A big middle finger!

A big middle finger to Naysayers!

May is my favorite month.

Not because of Mother’s Day, which I find to be quite the sham.

May is the anniversary of my marriage to my hubz.

Twice, even.

The first time we got married was May 26, 2008.

There was no ceremony. We exchanged “I do” vows at our dining room table with my sister as witness.

We didn’t want to tell anyone else, because it was only supposed to be a legal formality. My hubz didn’t want to wait another year to get my kids on his insurance, so we became legally wed a full year before we intended to.

American politics and the effed-up medical insurance situation — WHOA there, Nelly. That’s not what this post is about. That’s a separate topic entirely.

It was Labor Day weekend.

The following Labor Day weekend we held the actual ceremony. The same pastor came out to officiate, but this time we were surrounded by family out in the boonies.

The Big To Do took place outdoors on a nice campground surrounding a small lake. We scurried into the banquet hall for the reception, and when everyone took off later that night, we spent a week in one of the cabins down the path.

It was awesome.

We were poor, and it was awesome, and we are still poor, and it is still awesome.

So why offer a big middle finger NOW?

Because I still feel I’m owed an apology by the many people who had so many negative things to say about me leaving my ex and shacking up with my best friend.

People who said I probably just had the seven-year-itch.

{Two years early, because MATH is apparently a fickle little ass-monkey.}

People who said God meant for man and wife to stay together and work through their issues.

{Which would actually not apply to me, since I’d already been married prior to that, so I’m already doomed to hell for that particular sin, in which case, WHY START WORRYING NOW?}

People who said, “It’s not like you’re getting black eyes, so what’s the problem?”

{This was an actual quote, people. Isn’t it simply precious? I fear for the future of humanity.}

I feel like a big middle finger doesn’t even come close to saying what I want to say to those who couldn’t get behind my decision. I feel like a big middle finger is the least of what those people deserve.

But my hubz – my wonderful, special, patient, kind, loving spouse – tells me that a big middle finger would suffice, and he encourages me, “Think about it.”

He’s right, of course.

What I should feel is not vindication, but sadness.

Just think of all the people stuck in a shitty marriage, with a partner who isn’t willing to put in the work to make it better.

Just think of all the people resigning themselves to a life without love.

Just think of all the women who honestly feel as though they don’t deserve friendship in their husbands.

Just think of all the men who honestly feel as though they don’t deserve partnership in their wives. Just think. So many, many unhappy people.

And they are stuck with each other.

[*giggle*]

Yeah, that’s some pretty decent vengeance right there.

A big middle finger, indeed.

I still feel I’m owed an apology, but the fact of the matter is, I’ll never get it. You can’t explain to someone,

“Life is for the living,”

…if they don’t understand what LIVING even means.

So, to all the people out there merely surviving – to all the people stuck in crap-tastic relationships – to all the people who think NOT getting black eyes is a good enough reason to stay – to all the people content with joyless cohabitation– I heartily say unto thee,

“Fuck you.”

Fuck you, not for living how you want to live, but for trying to make me live that way, too. Misery loves company, on this we can count. But I don’t want to hang out with you. I don’t want to be miserable.

I deserve a husband who loves me as much as I love him, and who isn’t afraid to show it.

I deserve a partner who wants to share life together, to laugh into the dark and walk undaunted, hand-in-hand, into the future.

I deserve a partner who can hold his own in a disagreement – and who feels safe to disagree – and who makes me feel safe to disagree – because disagreement should not bring fear that the relationship is over.

I deserve a partner who enjoys my company, and whose company I likewise enjoy.

I deserve a partner who doesn’t avoid responsibility, who accepts blame and productive criticism and works to do and be better.

And then there are my kids.

They deserve to live with an example of REAL love, and to witness their mother treated with respect and adoration.

If you are in a relationship, and you aren’t happy, please know that you don’t have to stay. Not even for the kids. You’re not doing them any favors by sticking around, you guys.

And I’m not advocating walking out on your partner every time shit goes south. If both parties are willing to put in the work, that’s one thing. Stay in it for that. But don’t stay for some stupid sense of obligation.

And for all that is holy, don’t – DON’T – listen to those shitty assholes who will say you don’t know what you’re doing.

You’re an adult.

You know exactly what you’re doing:

You’re giving stupidity a big middle finger!

My darling hubz:

Thanks for the ride, my love!

I love you dearly, with all my heart.

I am so glad I didn’t listen to the fuckers who wanted me to stay with my ex.

You prove daily how wrong they were.

I’d say you were my everything, but that is bit overly dramatic, and also it would be a lie, because – SORRY – you actually AREN’T my everything, as I have kids and a cat and also self-respect.

So, while you aren’t my everything, you are definitely at the top of my list of favorite people on the planet.

And trust me:

It’s a short list, Babes.

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Classic Oscars #1 – #Oscars #ClassicOscars

Welcome to my new series: Classic Oscars.

Reason #1 for Classic Oscars:

Because the regular Oscar season just isn’t long enough.

It’s true. Oscar nominations are generally announced toward the beginning of the year, and the ceremony is then held by March. That’s a mere three months at most to try and see well-over twenty freaking films.

And many of them won’t even have even hit theaters in my area; others are lost in that stupid, senseless no-man’s-land between theater and DVD release; some never come to theaters and are as yet STILL awaiting a DVD release date. This phenomenon encompasses many independent or foreign films.

And, bee.tee.dubs, that shit sucks.

It’s very frustrating.

But also exhilarating. There is a certain degree of importance lent to the air, as charts are created, lists updated, items ticked off or moved from one section to another.

I am the Keeper of the Oscars .

But I want to fill this position year-round, not just seasonally. So I have made it into a full-time position.

Reason #2 for Classic Oscars:

Because my hubz misses out on the regular season.

Yeah, he has one of those shitty Real Job things that forces him to skip out on movie nights during the regular winter Oscar Rush. And he loves watching films with me, so it’s really quite heartbreaking.

I told him I’d keep a separate list of Oscar nominated films just for US, so we could mark them off together as we see them. This means I get to re-watch movies I’ve just seen within the last few months – even the ones I really disliked – which, if you know me at all, is very distasteful. I hate re-watching movies! Even my favorites!

My family members could watch movies over-n-over again. Ugh.

*shudders*

I need at least a year between viewings, and usually even THAT ain’t long enough.

One of the most awesome movies I’ve seen in recent years is PAN’S LABYRINTH, which came out in 2006. That means I probably saw it in early 2007. We bought it shortly after its DVD release in May of that year, and watched it again at home. I haven’t seen it since.

One of my favorite movies of ALL TIME – and I haven’t watched it in almost seven years!

Are you getting me now? I don’t do repeats. Done is bloody DONE.

Reason #3 for Classic Oscars:

Because I am curious about the early Oscar days. The first ceremony was held in 1929. That’s like 500 years ago!

Okay, obviously I’m slightly exaggerating. But with regard to movie making, it kind of feels like five centuries. The very first movie to win Best Picture – or, excuse me, “Outstanding Film” – is a silent film.

Wrap your lizard brain around THAT for a minute!

Thus the Classic Oscars series is born.

The first Academy Awards was held in 1929, and honored films released during the two previous years.

Plus?

The winners had already been notified three months before the ceremony! None of that nail-biting suspense as audience members wondered who got to take home a statue .

That’s a lot different from how things are run these days – the ceremony only honors films released the prior year, and winners are never notified before the ceremony.

Another difference?

Back then, the president of the Academy presented the awards. Now, the presenters are various hand-picked popular celebrities. My, how the times do change!

Here’s yet another nifty note:

The first year, awards could be for a single achievement, for several achievements, or for the whole body of work during the year.

That’s kind of cool, actually. I wonder why that is no longer an option?

In 1927, the average cost of a movie ticket was 25 cents.

Yikes, talk about inflation! My hubz and I just attended a movie at regular price, and it cost $11.50 per person. That’s insane! Luckily we had a gift certificate which covered our total. Otherwise we would have visited our local dollar-saver theater, where “It pays to wait”. And it does pay to wait. Seriously. We ain’t gotta keep up with all you crazy Joneses. I don’t mind seeing a film six months to a year after it’s been out. There is plenty to keep me occupied on Netflix.

Classic Oscars #1

Wings – 1927

The first film to win Best Picture {or Outstanding Film, as the category was called back then}, was WINGS – the only silent film to win an Oscar for that category. My hubz and I watched it with our daughter a few weeks ago and it was a trip!

First, the premise:

Two young men, one rich, one middle class, who are in love with the same woman, become fellow fighter pilots in World War I, where their rivalry grows into a wary friendship.

Here’s what it doesn’t say:

It’s a comedy! It’s a tragedy! It’s epic!

Silent films are funny.

They can’t help it. They just are.

The people are talking and no sound is coming forth from their mouths. Instead, there is only music and silly sound effects. Then, after each wordless scene, there is white print on a black background. Usually the text is unnecessary, and sometimes that fact is used to comedic effect.

Silent films can also be tragic.

There was one scene that came pretty close to drawing out my tears. And I think being forced to read the text during or between such scenes really drives home the message.

Just as powerful?

When there is no text at all… only silence. It was pretty amazing how much could be done sans speech.

Silent films are surprisingly awesome.

One thing we didn’t expect was to get so drawn in. But by their mere setup, silent films are quite cerebral. Viewers are forced to extrapolate and use context clues to keep up with not only the main plot, but also several subplots. The text and the music and the sound effects all lend a hand – but even at that, sometimes these additions actually run counter to what is truly happening on the screen.

Our 9-year-old daughter was fairly immersed in the movie for the majority of its length. Part of that is because I read the text aloud for mutual benefit. She could easily have read it herself, but reading it aloud made it go more quickly and erased any doubts as to pronunciation due to unfamiliarity.

And there was a lot of unfamiliarity – even for me! Plenty of terminology that was quite outdated or technical that none of us understood and had to guess at.

Which, of course, only added to the fun!

One final note about the epic nature of silent films:

The use of symbolism is astounding! I think it’s easy to think of ourselves, in 2014, as so much “smarter” or more advanced than people in previous decades. That’s definitely a fallacy of logic, but understandable when we consider that washing hands or drinking water instead of beer were such revolutionary concepts. Still – it’s not like people in older times were DUMB. They weren’t. Watching how much thought went into the making of this film really brought that home for me.

{And it’s another reason I adore classic books – they serve as reminders that people have always been capable of higher reasoning throughout history.}

Here is a chart of the other movies nominated in 1929. The movies highlighted in yellow and crossed out are ones that we cannot get from Netflix and which appear to be unavailable altogether. I’ll be highlighting in GREEN all the films we have seen. I think next up will be TEMPEST as it appears to be the only one available via Netflix instant streaming.

*Oscar Noms – 1929*

• Have you seen WINGS?


• Are you a fan of silent films?


• What do you think of my new Classic Oscars series?

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