Category Archives: Thoughts and/or Observations
Hello Consent!
Hello world, I am me. I am in no way perfect and I do not expect anyone else to be perfect either. Somehow though, I think yon’ kiddies have gone and fuckered up somehow. I have been engrossed (and grossed out) by the Steubenville, Ohio raping. In my vast internet searching of opinions and details I am just disgusted.
I enjoy sex. Hell, sex is one of my absolutely favorite things in the entire world. In the words of my favorite gynecologist, “if people don’t like fucking, they are doing it wrong” (I told you she was awesome). Throughout my college years I greatly enjoyed ‘mini-relationships’ or ‘hook-ups’; I have never enjoyed emotionless sex. It turns out that over the years I just didn’t understand how to have a relationship and considering the multiple marriages of both of my parents this doesn’t shock me. Sex to me is something wonderful, not just because I can get off–but because it is such a connection with that other person. You can focus completely on that other person and sensations and fully immerse yourself in the joy of that time with the other person. It is, for me, quite spiritual. (okay–not every time; sometimes I do just want to get off–but most of the time; spiritual)
However, over the years I have sensed a distressing trend of young teenagers to immerse themselves into the ‘hook-up’ culture–but coldly. I don’t know what it is about emotionless sex that causes me chills–but there is something about reducing what to me is an act of friendship and love to something equivalent to a fist bump (shit….I *am* 12. I want to make a bumping uglies joke and that is totally NOT appropriate. 🙂 ) that disturbs me deeply.
Recently, a new(ish) friend of mine asked me if my cervical cancer was caused by having too much ‘dirty sex’ and that question, well, sucked. Now, S–if you are reading this; do not get upset or think I am mad at you in any way. I am not. This is just an example of how a society based on repressed puritanical values will infiltrate and poison young open minds to think that sex is ‘dirty’ and shouldn’t be enjoyed. This is one reason I refuse to speak quietly about the fact I have cervical cancer. It sucks. It isn’t fair. And it is no-one’s damned fault.
In today’s news I was forced to read about society’s moderate outrage that Bill Gates wants to spend some (of his own damn) money to make a condom better. People are saying, well, if you can orgasm in a condom it ‘can’t be that bad’. Sure–but it could be better. That is like saying, hey–the Ford Model T worked *just fine*; why would we want to make any other cars?
Sex-shaming has to stop. It. Has. To. Stop. We are animals that are blessed as hell to 1. not have any sort of penis spines such as those found in male cats and 2. the ability to THINK and decide what we want to do. We are sill just animals and as such our bodies *want* us to make with the procreation. But hot-damn! We were smart enough to think of ways around getting knocked up every time we have sex. Go Humans! Go Science! Does that mean everyone *should* have sex all of the time? I don’t care; it is a personal damn choice. If you want to remain virginal until marriage–good for you; that is an impressive sacrifice and I admire your fortitude. Does virginity decrease your value as a person? nope. Does enjoying sex decrease your value as a person? nope. Personal value IS mutually exclusive of sexuality.
Most women I know will say something like, “I believe in women’s rights; but I am not a feminist”. It has taken me years to understand that statement (which I used to say myself, btw) is utter bullshit. As a woman who worked with men on construction-type sites for years I was guilty of similar bullshit. I am not proud to say it took years before it dawned on my thick-head that I was an asshole and it. needed. to. stop. Nowadays when I am on a job site and something about me being a woman comes up I use clinical words such as vagina, labia, or ovaries to make men cringe; hell if I’m uncomfortable ‘all y’all gonna be uncomfortable. These things do not come up nearly as often as they used to; not because I am not a woman or do stupid shit like degrade men using supposed insults such as ‘girl’ or ‘youre being a woman’ or ‘pussy’–but because I am experienced and competent and them asshats need my help and nothing in this world is more impressive than a person who knows what the hell they are doing. In a moderately related note–hollywood is just as fucking guilty. The trailer came out for Kickass 2 and oooh-boy I was squeeing in my chair and I clicked and watched and for the most part, enjoyed. The parts that jumped out like a mental speed bump for me was when Hit-Girl was training with Kickass and she hit him as he complained she said something like, ‘Act like a bitch, get hit like a bitch’ and ‘take your tampon out’. See? She was written as saying the same kind of shit I was guilty of saying. I understand it is supposed to be funny–but if you take half of a second and think about the underlying BULLSHIT of the statements it just fucking sucks. Am I boycotting the movie? HELL NO! I can’t wait to see it. Will I continue to make sure anyone who see’s that preview understands how shitty statements like that are? HELL YES. Over and fucking over–until that women are weak bullshit STOPS.
Oh yeah, and the Steubenville rapists? they are not a group of boys (and if you think there were only 2 of them; you are sadly mistaken) who ‘accidentally raped someone’ and now their lives are ruined; they are fucking RAPISTS who did their damned best to humiliate and degrade someone who was not able to give their consent and video taped this disgusting event not for their ‘personal pleasure’ but to make certain the victim’s degradation was known far and wide. Can doing something that horrific happen ‘accidentally’? Fuck no it can’t. The scariest thing I read regarding the rape was written by a teacher and is located here (http://accidentaldevotional.com/2013/03/19/the-day-i-taught-how-not-to-rape/). That brave teacher (and I mean BRAVE!) took on a scary topic with her students not with the approach of ‘and now we are talking about rape’ but dealt with the subject as it came up naturally and handled it beautifully. What is scary? That these (and I am certain many other younglings) do not understand what rape means. Please read her description; it was amazing.
In general as I live my life as an ethical slut I avoid slogans; let’s be honest–after too many repeats it just loses meaning to too many. The other day I saw a t-shirt that read, “Consent is Sexy”. As slogans go; I give it a ‘meh’ rating. I like the meaning–but the slogan blows. However, when I think of that moment when two people are intertangled and one whispers to the other, ‘please fuck me’ and the other says, ‘yes, please….’ and hell yeah, consent is sexy. Let’s take it one step further–enthusiastic consent is REALLY sexy.
Ladies and gentlemen, I beg of you: do not play idiotic games, do not follow anyone’s ‘rules’ but the ones you are comfortable with, and if and when you decide you want to have sex with someone-give consent enthusiastically!
Results Are In
okay, so the cancer is exactly the same as the cancer we found during the first biopsy.
woo-hoo?
Yes, this is a woo-hoo! This means that the cervical cancer is NOT the outer edge of the cancer (example: ovarian cancer that is super bad and has spread to the cervix) but the center and total of the cancer. So, simple hysterectomy leaving the ovaries in place (torn on whether to just leave one and having them kill off the appendix while they are in there or not….) will be a total cure and tah-dah I should be fine.
I have an appointment to make sure my hoo-haa is healing okay tomorrow at 10am and I will schedule the hysterectomy then.
(still waiting for the damn water delivery…..I think they are just fucking with me now. *wink*)
I’m only a little broken. :)
So, I had a wee little bit of cancer. I say had because probably all of it was cut out of me last Tuesday during something called a cold cone biopsy aka – cut most of my cervix with a scalpel. Good times.
Thankfully there is such a thing as general anesthesia. 🙂
I am still supposed to get a hysterectomy but nothing is scheduled yet. I don’t have the results from the cold cone biopsy yet but if I have learned anything at all from this adventure if my phone starts ringing a lot on Monday morning and all of the calls were from my doctors office–the news is not good.
I’m doing okay. The hardest part was telling my parents; I expected my mom to freak out and my dad to be fine. My expectations were mostly wrong. My dad is worried sick; my mom is alright.
Anyway, just a quick update. *hugs*
-H.
Locking my keys in my car was NOT a ploy.
No, seriously–it wasn’t. But if I weren’t me I wouldn’t believe me either. I have a neighbor who I used to work with and he is, for lack of a better term, dreamy….~sigh~. Like all humans I am certain he has his pluses and minuses but the fun part of a crush is I don’t really know much about him.
So, I saw him cutting his grass and sent him a text (yes, I am *quite* subtle thank you very much) that initially said, “wow, you are damn pretty” but I had to change the pretty to good looking because he got offended when I called him pretty. I noticed that he hadn’t replied in about an hour and sent him a follow-up which said something along the lines of, “uh…did you not enjoy my incredibly smooth come on?” because, again, I have NO moves. Seriously, none. I scare off more people with my direct approach than should be legally allowed. Needless to say, still no reply. About 3 hours later I realized if I wanted to eat anything I needed to go to the grocery store and with a sigh of grumpitude I heaved my butt off the bed and put on shoes. I felt incredibly proud of myself that I even remembered to grab the reusable bags! And then when I attempted to open my car door–it was locked. And there were my brightly colored keys glinting in the moonlight on the seat. And then I blushed. No, no…I mean–B.L.U.S.H.E.D.
Now, you are thinking: but H!? that happens! people lock their keys in their cars once in a while. Yes, and that was the third time in the month of January. After the first time where we spent way too much time with wire and shims and luck breaking into my car I gave my one spare key to my neighbor figuring I would be hedging my bets. The second time I locked them in the car was in the KMart parking lot. Thankfully he just unlocked it and hid my keys and I didn’t have to face anyone. But now! after the ‘good looking’ ever-so-subtle text messages of earlier. Fuck. After gently banging my head into the roof of my car for a few minutes I began the walk to my neighbors while I made the dreaded phone call.
Serioulsy? would you believe I didn’t do that on purpose (okay, maybe *you readers* will because I let you in to read the whole story–but if you were the hot guy being flirted with would you not have thought–“whoa–desperate”; yeah–me too!)
So, after answering the phone and I explained the shameful situation and explained I was on my way he told me that he was out and that he wouldn’t be returning home tonight so he would swing by quickly. I was impressed hot guy went on overnight play dates–had I been more on my game and not fully flushed with embarrassment I would have asked to go along–but then he explained he had to go to his mothers. So, embarrassment saved some extra blushing there. (YAY!)
It was about then that he arrived and you are going to love this part, ready? I opened my mouth and explained I was sorry for the text messages earlier and that I really didn’t do this on purpose but I understand if he doesn’t believe me. He then replied, “you sent me text messages?” and immediately picked up his phone to read them.
DAMMIT! Busted. well-played, world–well-played indeed.
It this were a fair and just universe then I would have coerced him into the land of nookie; but alas he just sorta laughed at me with a serious glint–but by that point I was too far past embarrassed to care and laughed along as well.
Recently I learned that I am the opposite of his type: he likes short, thin, and dark complected whereas for those of you who don’t know I am tall, thick, and pasty. Oh well, it was worth a try; after all I have GOT to learn some moves. (seriously, I have no moves).
Happy New Year? Happy New Year!
One year ago I was sure 2011 was the roughest year I had ever experienced. Apparently 2012 heard that and said to the world, “challenge accepted!” Dear 2013, I’m excited you are here. I don’t have any expectations or resolutions for you. I have learned in the past year that I can survive horrors; but that it takes time to heal. I will accept everything this year brings me whether good, bad, or ugly. I will move forward one little step at a time until the gods determine no more steps are needed. I hope everyone has a great 2013, with minimal bad, maximum good, and only a soupçon of ugly (unless we are using the “bumping uglies” analogy in which case I hope for everyone to get laid exactly as much as they want!). Much love to everyone. -H.
Protected: wake up
remember that time I freaked out?
Good afternoon everybody!
How are you? It is a Saturday and this morning I was going to get up, drive to Kmart, and pick out a bicycle. Why? because by golly, I want one badly and it would save me money (in the long run). I was paid on Thursday and I checked my bank balance today (Saturday) and realized the whopping $37.00 I had to my name was not enough to purchase diet coke for the month, let alone a bicycle.
Fuck.
It is amazing how knowing how little money I have can suck the joy right out of my day. It shouldn’t mean anything at all–money is pointless. At least it is completely pointless until you don’t have any.
So, because I am taking control of my own happiness, here is a story about a small amount of money which helped someone else:
I was in St. Thomas for work from Tuesday through Friday this week. On Tuesday I went to the beach bar with Herbert (service dog) to relax and enjoy the evening. As per usual, the chat around the bar turned to dogs (thank you Herbert) and this lady and I were talking about dogs when she said, “where you at the other Best Western restaurant a few months ago when a table of two people ran out on their bill and you paid for it because you said you didn’t want it to come out of my pay (which it would have)?” I looked at her and said, “oh yeah, I forgot about that! how are you?” and then she chattered on about how nice I was and how people just weren’t that nice and that she was so touched by my thoughtfulness. For the record, the table that ditched their bill cost me around $5.00. Because of that $5.00 this woman remembered my existence fondly and recognized me after months in a completely different place and me with a new hair color.
*shrugs* I just thought that story was kind of spiffy and I should share to both make myself look way nicer and more awesome than I really am and to remind myself that there are good and happy things to think about that don’t involve my own fear of poverty.
In other news I just asked my father if I could have a bicycle for Christmas. If I were brave in any way I would ask him if I could borrow money to get myself out of this hellish pit of poor. But I’m not brave…hell, I’m not even proud. I am giving serious consideration to becoming a ‘working girl’ until I can make ends meet.
Protected: Well, that’s interesting.
My phone…she swims with the fishes…
or more specifically, she dunked herself into the toilet. Does that bitch not realize that I cannot afford a new one? And no, I don’t think I have the insurance on this but I am about to check. ~le sigh~
I immediately grabbed the phone and in doing so I somehow threw my apple I was eating into the shower (I know because I found it later). Before you think I was having a poo or something equally hilarious, it was really just a chain of stupidity. I was eating an apple and needed to grab the clothes I was soaking out of the bathroom sink to throw into the laundry. I placed the phone on the shelf above the toilet and somehow I bumped the shelf. Yes, I was on the phone at the time, and yes, it is completely possible the person I was talking to heard, “shoot, darn, NOOOOO! *splash*.” Yes, when things are really bad the curse words disappear and I begin to sound like a kindergarten teacher. No, I am not proud of that. After (apparently) throwing the apple I grabbed the phone, battery, and case (which had conveniently come apart upon toilet impact) and grabbed my emergency “shit, my electronic ______ fell into the water” kit (I should sell these). To make your own emergency kit please do the following:
- buy bag of silica cat litter
- find or buy container larger than your electronic ______ but smaller than a bucket that has a lid
- use a thin cloth bag or, failing having one of those, a thin sock
When something like this happens, REMOVE BATTERY, wipe off all visible moisture, place electronic _________ into bag (or sock) and bury in silica. The bag keeps the dust out of the electronic. Then put on the lid and don’t touch the damn electronic________for at least 24 hours.
So, I didn’t follow my own rules and attempted to make my phone “go” this morning. Alas…she turned on, then died. What did we learn? That’s right! don’t. touch. the. damn. electronic ________. for. 24. hours. you. damn. idiot.
The kit doesn’t work unless you have it on hand and set up BEFORE the water drama ensues. So people, go make kits, save your electronic _______s.
Wish me luck, I think I am screwed.
Squished Together 