Our fight or flight response is our body’s way of protecting us from a possible threat.  With GAD, there often is no threat at all – but your brain is convinced otherwise.  If a child woke up in the night, frightened from a monster in their closet,  it could take hours to talk them down into a state of calm once again.  This is if you are rational, calm adult yourself.  With GAD, you are both the child and the adult.  So now the eight year old with an intense fear of his closet is also the one trying to convince himself that there is nothing remotely scary in that closet, and that he should just relax and go to sleep.

I’m trying to arrive at a place, mentally and emotionally, where I feel totally secure.  It’s an arduous process.  I have a lot of changes to make and am not quite sure where to begin with some of them.  I just pray for the best.  I pray that those who love me know how important my mental health is, and will back me up no matter what.  I need support.  I need to figure how to deal with that closet.  I have a few ideas, but only time will tell.

And then maybe I can lock that door once and for all.

I know all about sour grapes, because this is the FIRST candidate I’ve endorsed who actually won an election.  Today many Republicans are suggesting that Obama only won the vote because of his skin color.  First of all, that’s beyond ludicrous.  His skin color, if anything, is why he was not the likeliest of candidates.  Let’s not forget that he won not only the electoral vote, but the popular vote as well, in a country whose majority is white.

Some Republicans suggest that Socialism is a failed theory.  That an Egalitarian society will bring about poverty, loss of rights and an overall decline in the morality of its citizens.  For the past eight years, we’ve seen what a Capitalist society can bring.  Greed begets greed.  It causes people to act quickly and without consideration to the consequences of their actions.  I just don’t think it’s sound policy to run a country with a “He who has the most toys wins” philosophy.

If you are a Republican, it’s fair to say that this political turnout was less than stellar for you.  I can appreciate that.  I did not endorse Bush during either of his presidential elections, so for me the last two terms have been troubling at best.  I don’t think he’s a bad person, I just don’t think he was a good president.  Now I feel that my ideals have a chance at being recognized and realized.  I feel that change IS in the air, cliche or not, and that maybe real progress is about to begin.  For those who did not support Obama, having a fatalistic mentality is certainly not going to propel this country forward – something I think we can all agree on being necessary now more than ever.

I pray for peace and goodwill and everything else we mutter as platitudes but rarely mean.  I mean it.  And now I believe it is possible.

It’s generally considered a bad idea to discuss issues of sex, race, politics or religion.  I normally follow that line of thinking.  Not now.  If this blog offends, stop reading.  I don’t care.

I am a fair person.  I recognize that everyone has their own points of view, quite often based on their life experience.  I realize that I was and am blessed to have been raised by parents who taught me that aesthetics mean nothing – your true nature means everything.

Today officials arrested two skinheads from Tennessee after threats were made to assassinate presidential candidate Barack Obama.  Does this surprise me?  No.  Does is DISGUST me?  YES.

Tell me you disagree with Barack’s political ideology.  Tell me you feel he’s inexperienced.  Hell, tell me you don’t like his vague and distant connection with William Ayers and I will allow even that.  But to vote against him because of his race?  I’m sorry folks, but in my mind, if you are voting for John McCain SOLELY because he is caucasion, you are NO BETTER than these skinhead degenerates.

PLEASE explain to me what goes on in the mind of these racist bigots?  Explain to me why I am inherently better than the next man because I happened to have been born pale?  Did I have ANYTHING to do with it?  Did I have ANY say in it?  NO!  If you don’t believe in God, you can assume that it was a random act of genetics.  And if you do believe in God, as I do, you know that it was predetermined, predestined.  You are who you are and you had NOTHING to do with it.  That does NOT make you intrinsically better.

These pathetic excuses for human beings might want to do a bit of fact checking.  Guess who fills up the majority of American prisons?  WHITE males.  Guess who makes up the majority of serial killers in this country?  WHITE males.  Does this make all white males guilty by association?  Logic tells us no.  But apparently logic is something these types of people aren’t familiar with.

My grandparents were hard working, disciplined, kind and loving people from West Virginia.  They were made fun of for their lack of income.  They were teased for their meager education.  My grandfather, at the age of 81, could not spell simple one syllable words.  He left school in the sixth grade because his family needed an extra income.  He worked in coal mines until he was able to take his family north to Ohio, in the hopes of finding better, safer employment.  My grandmother picked fruit and vegetables, took care of neighborhood children and raised her own (as well as her grandchildren AND great-grandchild).  These were honorable people who would have given you the shirt off of their backs.  Yet they were made fun of because they were “stupid hillbillies”.

It’s simple psychology when you recognize that people often hate in other’s what they also know to be true about themselves.  That for some, it heightens their morale to bring other people down.  Name calling is one thing.  But when you threaten to harm or take the life of another human being, simply because of a difference in pigmentation, a difference that somehow threatens you, it’s not only unjustifiable….it makes you, at least in my eyes, no longer human.

My great uncle was the imperial wizard (though a proper noun, I REFUSE to capitalize the title) of the kkk (again, no caps) in West Virginia during the 1930′s.  It’s something I know about my family, something that saddens me to no end.  I take NO pride in knowing that someone whom I am bound to by blood decided to promote (and possibly take part in) the abuse, torture and/or murder of human beings.  I don’t want to hear the argument “Well you know, at that time…”  Stop there.  Please.  At the time in Nazi Germany, it was acceptable to torture Jewish citizens as well.  Was that right?  Was that noble?

This country, this WORLD had better take a long hard look in the mirror and pass judgment on THEMSELVES.

Bottom line?  If you think you’re better than me because you’re smarter, I can deal with it.  I don’t agree, but it’s understandable.  If you think you’re better than me because I’m not white enough or too white or my hair is too red or not red enough or I have blue eyes when they should be brown…..ANYthing that I had nothing to do with?

FUCK YOU.

Um…I’m rarely at a loss for words.  Ask anyone who really knows me.  I can talk until the cows come home and leave again.  Yet this product packaging leaves a…yes, you knew I had to say it…funny taste in my mouth.

From the website I learned that Popsy®, a German beverage, is a mixture of creme liqueur and shots of toffee and vanilla.  I can see the marketing department now:

“Vell, eet does look like zee semen….”

The website also offers an animated sequence (bottom of the screen) of a Popsy® sperm chasing down an egg, and above it the flashing phrase, “Catch me if you can “.

http://www.popsy.de/Pages/Start/Start.html

I wonder if, after finishing off a tall Popsy®, the company calls you the next day?  Probably not.

My father is conservative, though he considers himself a libertarian.  He was born in 1946, a year that saw widespread labor strikes and Churchill’s famed “Iron Curtain” speech.  He is a true baby boomer, 1946 being the year that saw the largest spike in U.S. births.  Both of his parents, my grandparents, worked to support their family.  They didn’t have a lot, but I doubt my father or his brother’s noticed much.  I think that’s the role of a parent: make sure your child is provided for, and that at least in their world, everything seems completely in order.

As a child, I spent a lot of time being spoiled by my family.  There was never a vacancy below the Christmas tree.  Birthdays were full of clothes and toys and good food.  Actually good food was a major part of my childhood.  Our cupboards were never bare, my closet never empty.  I don’t even remember my parent’s having any discussions on our financial status.  Family issues aside, I knew that everything was alright.

If I’d been able to see inside of my parent’s minds, I may have seen a very different scenario.  Money was tight.  Bills were piling up and credit card debt was increasing.  I’d venture to say that Peter had been bled dry.

My father believes that our government should be smaller, the rich should not be penalized for being rich,  and that “spreading the wealth” is both unfair and ineffective.  I don’t want our government digging into every aspect of my life.  I don’t believe rich people are inherently bad because of their estate. I also don’t think poor people are inherently bad because of what they don’t have.  And that’s where it gets tricky.

I’m told that it’s nothing more than socialist thinking to suggest that everyone should be on an even playing field.  What I can’t understand is, how does “trickle down economics” help stimulate our economy when the rich just continously move their money overseas, to avoid the tax liability?

There is a strong suggestion that those without are less deserving that those who have.  I don’t follow that logic.  Are there poor people who screw the system?  Of course!  Are there wealthy people who are compassionate?  Of course!  Bill and Melinda Gates come to mind.

But that’s a bad example I guess.

Let’s face it – anyone can be lazy.  Anyone can be disorganized.  But free spirited?  Now those people are special.  I’m proud to say I’m one of them.  I don’t have strict guidelines or structure.  I do what feels comfortable, what feels good.  This doesn’t suggest that what I do is always what’s best, but then again, that’s relative.

What is the purpose of your day?  Your interactions?  Your communications?  Each second we are propelled forward, even if it doesn’t feel that way.  Even on those days when the clock seems stuck in some arbitrary position, the second hand bouncing back and forth.  People spend a lot of time fretting over what they’ve done and why they did it.  In one respect that can be a good thing.  Avoid your past mistakes by not repeating the action(s) that brought you there.  But that journey is often arduous and very unforgiving.  You see things, realize things you do not want to realize.

I understand more and more, every day, that I am not like those around me.  I don’t process information the way they do.  I don’t analyze things like they do.  I don’t recognize details like they do.  Bold, abstract ideas or assertations breeze past me.  Logic – what’s that?  Logic, for me, is like a mathematical equation.  Sure, there is an answer (sometimes more than one) but 1) I have no clue how to reach it and 2) no interest in doing so.  If a child breaks a tea cup that has been in the family for generations, you could try to explain how emotionally upsetting it is to lose something so valuable.  The child can’t comprehend this.  The child sees an object, either intentionally or accidentally drops it, it breaks.  End of story.  Your anger, your sadness, your feelings associated – they are yours.  Not theirs.  We cannot, regardless of how hard we try, make someone else feel what we feel.  And if we can’t, how can we therefore argue or get angry when they don’t fully realize those feelings?

If I said that it’s hurtful to me when people wear the color green, you would think that a very odd statement.  You would probably still wear green (accidentally of course) around me, because it seems pretty ridiculous to be upset over something so…unimportant.  You could try to empathize, and maybe on occasion you would choose another color to wear.  But at the end of the day, it would still seem illogical.  Now – if I told you I don’t like green because as a child I had a bad experience with a man who wore green, you would probably be more sympathetic.  “Aha!  Now this is making some sense!”  And that’s the key:  NOW that it makes sense to YOU, you’re willing to concede.  The situation has not changed at all for me.  Nothing has become more clear or realized in my mind.  But because you now have more information, you are essentially allowing me the opportunity to experience my feelings.

We might not have all the information.  We may never know the who, what, where or why.  I don’t think it’s necessary and to be frank, I think it’s irrelevant.  It doesn’t matter why you feel the way you do.  What counts is that you do.  What counts is that your life, your experience, is the only one you will ever fully comprehend.  It is not my job to understand, nor is it yours to explain it.  Now I’m a sucker for details.  I always want to know what makes people tick.  “Why don’t you like cauliflower?  That doesn’t make sense?”  Little, trivial things like that…they’re delightful curiosities for me.  But when it comes to feelings and motivations, we feel the way we feel.  Maybe it’s hardwired into our psyche.  Maybe we’re products of our environment.  Maybe we just feel that way on a whim.  Who cares?

I enjoy the details.  I enjoy the everyday subtleties.  The sound of the Goodyear blimp as it approaches.  Why does that make me smile?  It does.  I’ve never been in a blimp.  Never seen one up close.  Don’t have any memories associated with blimps, and I’m too young to remember the Hindenburg.  So what is it?  Who knows?  Life is about the experience.  The moment.  If it brings you joy, if it offers peace, it’s a good thing.

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe, German philosopher and cultural figure once said, “What is important in life is life, and not the result of life.”  Don’t analyze.  Don’t overwhelm yourself with questions.  In each moment, do what is best for you, and pray for a successful outcome.  Hope for the best.

I’ve always enjoyed latch hooking.  It’s much easier than knitting, crocheting or needle point.  If you can hold an eating utensil, odds are you can latch hook.  I’ve created everything from hot air balloons, kittens and even a rainbow.  Yet somehow, the idea of making the likeness of our Lord and Savior into a pillow or rug never crossed my mind.  This piece, when complete, is an impressive 30×36 inches in size.  I can see it now, hanging near the plastic ficus tree and oil lamp.  Pure class.

As we headed out of the store, we experienced yet another blessed reminder:  Testamints – tiny mints in assorted flavors, wrapped up in scripture.  Their website features the quote:

“My mother always told me, when someone offers you a mint you better take one.”

Wow.  Is this what commercial Christianity is resorting to now?  Next thing you know they’ll market Jesus lollipops.

Oh say it isn’t so….

The next time a self-professed Christian reminds me of my evil ways, I think I’m going to point out the fact that I may be a sinner, may be far from Christ-like, but I would never consider bastardizing the name (or likeness) of God or Jesus Christ via mass merchandising.  Anyway, I’ve always said that I follow Christ, not Christians.  And to be fair, I espouse what I inherently know to be true of Christ.  I wasn’t there when he was ministering or healing.  I only know what I feel and believe.

Promoting your truth, via love and kindness, is never a bad thing.

Selling your soul for $1.29?  Priceless.

I’ve never been a big fan of alcohol.  I’ve always appreciated the allure but could never quite commit.  In adult magazines, vodka and tequila make you more beautiful, more desirable.  That part I was fine with.  It was the after effects that concerned me.  I can honestly say that vomiting is my least favorite past time.  It’s not the acrid taste on my tongue, or the hollow sensation in my rumbling tummy.  It’s the physical act of emptying out the contents of my stomach.  Like a sparrow lacks the ability to swallow upside down, my food finds it preferential to keep in full accordance with the laws of gravity.  So despite how delicious those five or six tropical inspired drinks may be at the time, I am hesitant to walk that tightrope.

Because of my inexperience, all it takes is two wine coolers or two beers or maybe one Absolute and cranberry before my body begins the difficult process of coordinating with my brain.  I instantly recognize the difference in my behavior.  I laugh a bit louder, point out random objects in the room, and my gait takes on an odd, toddler like quality.  I had one strawberry daiquiri and less than twenty minutes later could not effectively climb the theater stairs without stumbling over my feet.  The usher was too busy getting lost in the poorly marked aisles to notice.  We took our seats, and within the next hour my “mini-buzz” had dulled to a headache/urge to urinate.  My brief dance with the seductress that is rum was pleasant if not, well, pointless.  I’ll never have the courage to get completely “hammered”, so I’ll have to instead settle for an occasional episode of mild euphoria.  It’s not a drunken stupor, but it’s close enough for me.

My favorite actor of all time, circa 1973