tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48199895506265766102024-02-21T08:33:53.827-05:00Luminafeminism, religion, literature, politics, whines, rants and fluff with which to amuse myself... and possibly the masses.Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-26500714963601258742011-11-21T20:40:00.002-05:002012-01-29T09:11:39.869-05:00You're Not In Disneyland, So Beware the Mickeys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Today on Facebook a friend of mine posted this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;">I wasn't going to share this information but,in concern for all my female friends out there,please,REMEMBER..to NEVER drink a drink you didnt get from the bartender yourself or a trusted friend to go up and grab it for you.I had 3 shots of tequila on Saturday night...Luckily I had a good friend to take me home,when I got out of the car I was fine-and then,blackness-I cant imagine if I had gone out to smoke like Id wanted,alone.please girls,be mindful of who is around you and who is watching..and who so wants to buy you that "drink"I called ER today ..and I do have all the symptoms of the drug.</span></blockquote><br />
She states that she feels incredibly traumatized because even though she came to no real harm (aside from ingesting a chemical substance that made her black out) she's haunted by the fact that someone intended her real harm.<br />
<br />
I am posting this as a warning to women. This is what evil people do. They slip mickeys, roofies, or anything else you want to call them into a woman's drink when she's not looking. The intent is to make the woman black out or become so disoriented that she is in no condition to protect herself, say no, cry for help, or fight back while being raped.<br />
<br />
I had something similar happen to me about nine years ago. I was in a bar, dancing with my friends. I had set my bottle of beer on a table while I danced. I happened to glance over from the dance floor and saw a man sprinkle something or drop something into my beer. I knew immediately what had happened.<br />
<br />
Outraged, I confronted the man. He insisted it was a joke and that he had used poor judgment in his choice of jokes. I demanded to know why he would <i>ever</i> think that such a thing was funny. He insisted it was a bad joke and begged me to forgive him. He offered to buy me a new beer.<br />
<br />
I countered his offer: I demanded that he satisfy my paranoia and drink the allegedly doctored beer himself. He refused.<br />
<br />
'Nuff said.<br />
<br />
About five years ago I went to a party with some friends. One of my friends, my <i>best friend</i>, was the designated driver. While the rest of us drank hard she sipped coca colas all night long. Eventually I went home (with another designated driver). The next day I received a hysterical phone call from my best friend. She said that the previous evening, after I left, she was having one more coke before she left the party and the men she was supposed to transport to their homes slipped something into her soda. She didn't know it. She drank the soda. She blacked out. She has vague memories of a handful of men taking turns sexually assaulting her. She woke up in a ditch on the side of the road.<br />
<br />
These were people for whom she had, as a good samaritan, agreed to provide safe transportation.<br />
<br />
I am not going to waste words discussing the aftermath. That is neither here nor there. The point is, if you are out in public, and you are having something to drink (alcoholic or not), <i>protect it. Guard it. </i>Don't ever assume you're safe. Because chances are, you're not.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"></blockquote></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-45839140961840003282011-11-18T16:34:00.005-05:002011-12-02T11:24:43.987-05:00Happy Holidays Whether You Like It Or Not<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Another Christmas season is looming around the corner. Thanksgiving hasn't even hit my doorstep and I've already gotten my first Facebook message telling me that accepting anything less than "Merry Christmas" is sacrilegious and anti-American. It is the first war-cry of the season of the Anti- "Happy Holidays" Hypochristians.<br />
<br />
Seriously, why are people allowing themselves to get their panties in a bunch over "Happy Holidays"? The term is a positive good-will wish. It is used by people who have thoughtfulness and courtesy for all world religions. It does not exclude people from a wish of good will due to their religion or lack of a specific religion. In fact it is inclusive, giving full acknowledgment to any and all people.<br />
<br />
Which leads me to two points:<br />
<br />
1. Why would you want to exclude good people from a wish for happiness simply because they do not share your religious views?<br />
<br />
2. How does such an exclusion fit within the parameters of your alleged Christianity? Jesus espoused inclusiveness, no matter a person's background (ethnicity, career, history, religion, family, etc). No one was denied his love, even those who rejected his philosophy.<br />
<br />
So stop slamming the Happy in the Holidays just because you have a paranoid delusion that the sentiment is part of some insidious war against Christianity. It's not. It's simply an open-minded wish that acknowledges and respects all people of all (and sometimes no) religious faiths.<br />
<br />
Now stop your whining and pull that wedgie out of your butt, it looks painful.<br />
<br />
Oh, and here's another blogger who concurs, perhaps more succinctly, with me. His argument is irrefutable:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://fatpastor.wordpress.com/2008/12/28/happy-holidays/" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Happy Holidays</span></span></span></a></div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-14733192701846715872011-09-30T09:44:00.000-04:002011-09-30T09:44:21.700-04:00I Want to Enroll My Son In Asperger's High<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Some people may accuse me of picking on people with Asperger's. I live with Asperger's. Asperger's is an uninvited guest who shows up for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all the places in between every day of every year. I know Asperger's intimitely; its trials, its wonders, and its sense of humor. If you can't recognize humor in your life you're missing the point to living.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/QFt2aZvg3qE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
</div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-56129727592512350122011-08-30T09:05:00.007-04:002011-08-30T09:20:03.640-04:00Dirty Laundry<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Gabe has taken a newfound interest in learning how to take care of himself. He's halfway to seventeen and it's suddenly dawned on him that sooner than later he's going to have to go take on that Big Bad World by himself.<br />
<br />
So, in the spirit of independence and maturity, he has taken it upon himself to ask me how to accomplish simple household tasks.<br />
<br />
Last week was great. It was "<i>The Week the Boy Wanted to Learn to Cook"</i>. And cook he did. Basic things like eggs, grilled cheese sandwiches, and macaroni and cheese.<br />
<br />
When Gabe is doing simple day to day activities, such as watching television, feeding the dog, washing dishes, and playing video games, it's easy to forget that he has Asperger's. Then something as simple as the instructions on the mac and cheese box will slam you upside the head, with the brute force of a rubber mallet, to remind you . . . Yes, the Boy has Asperger's! Instructions that seem so simple to me (even a cave man can do it!) become ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics for him. Too many instructions all at once and Gabe's brain starts spinning. It probably didn't help that I, being the control freak that I am, tried to give him more instructions than were on the box: "pour the milk into the measuring cup over the sink because that way, if you spill, you won't pour too much into the pot <i>and </i>you won't make a mess on the counter," "have your strainer ready in the sink while you're waiting for the noodles to boil because that way you won't have to worry about hurrying to do it at the end," "see, the measurements for the butter are posted on the wrapper! Notice how eight tablespoons equal half a cup- but you won't use half a cup today,""be sure to stir the pot occasionally so the noodles don't stick to the bottom." Meanwhile, the Boy was still trying to figure out how to read measuring spoons.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jhA40zGUSjccMtXTUOXLFqgmxkL63ZkpeokNqoBHAaw4oKnVi2ZtUkG6QYGzZSDkFe4cw6mOsLIjPETGKvx52lqkSY2DNhc9P52NMWPDMaASiu0Y5r9ehhABloxVw3NpbiRnD5TxZqI/s1600/smidgeon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jhA40zGUSjccMtXTUOXLFqgmxkL63ZkpeokNqoBHAaw4oKnVi2ZtUkG6QYGzZSDkFe4cw6mOsLIjPETGKvx52lqkSY2DNhc9P52NMWPDMaASiu0Y5r9ehhABloxVw3NpbiRnD5TxZqI/s320/smidgeon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I am still trying to decide if these measuring spoons</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i> will help him or only make him more confused.</i></span></div><br />
All things considered, I am very proud of him for not having a classic Asperger's meltdown in the middle of all this due to over-stimulation.<br />
<br />
It's interesting (and amazing) how people with Asperger's can do things like: tell you every detail of every episode of Spongebob Squarepants (but they can't remember where they put their socks), take apart a broken transistor radio and put it back together better than when it was new (but they can't learn how to ride a bike), recite whole acts of Shakespeare (but not understand the plot of a rated PG-13 movie).<br />
<br />
But I digress . . .<br />
<br />
So this past weekend the Boy asks me to teach him how to do laundry. Wow! I'm on the bonus plan! This is wonderful! What a great kid!<br />
<br />
I have him gather all the laundry and show him how to sort it. Sorting things is one of his favorite past-times, and laundry sorting is just as enjoyable for him as is sorting all his video games (according to year of release, favorite to least favorite, maturity ratings, popularity, educational to simply entertaining, color of packaging, etc). Great! So far so good!<br />
<br />
Then I have him place all the dark clothes in the laundry basket and follow me into the laundry room. I have him raise the lid on the washing machine, show him how to measure the laundry detergent, and explain to him why and how you set the washing machine for different types of laundry. Then . . . the Big Moment.<br />
<br />
I tell him to turn on the washing machine.<br />
<br />
Water begins to pour into the tub.<br />
<br />
Gabe's eyes grow large.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifqPXgkWkSDCthaNhjVtEt6VoWmgZ25srKUmwJtPa60ubqHQIUo5W7GDPrtGiX9DhPPOxEUIRoI5SsGkjufSHRNb9LPZ0zLMdEeRRBPEOWfK2z0ToefUYut-YbcY0bmP-fgyZ-uq5Ifv8/s1600/wide-eyed-owl_1805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifqPXgkWkSDCthaNhjVtEt6VoWmgZ25srKUmwJtPa60ubqHQIUo5W7GDPrtGiX9DhPPOxEUIRoI5SsGkjufSHRNb9LPZ0zLMdEeRRBPEOWfK2z0ToefUYut-YbcY0bmP-fgyZ-uq5Ifv8/s320/wide-eyed-owl_1805.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I chose this image because: (A) Gabe loves owls and can</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>tell you anything you ever wanted to know about them; </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>and (B) this is pretty much the expression on his face</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>when the water began pouring into the washing machine.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Uh, Mom, is that <i>supposed </i>to happen?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">(I'm thinking to myself, "I have done laundry around this boy for years, I know he can sometimes be oblivious to his environment, but surely <i>this </i>is no revelation to him?!")</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">(I am wrong.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes, Gabe. How do you think the clothes get clean?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"But, Mom, won't the water ruin the clothes?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ruin? How?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"No, Gabe. The water washes out all the germs and dirt and stains and makes the clothes clean."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Dramatic pause.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Okay. If you say so."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes, Gabe. I say so. Because I have been washing your clothes for almost seventeen years <i>with water</i> and they always, amazingly, seem to come out clean and . . . non-ruined.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We go back to whatever we were doing before we started the laundry (for me this means reading blog posts in <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Feministe</span></a> or <a href="http://freethoughtblogs.com/pharyngula/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Pharyngula</span></a> . . . or, more apropos for this experience, <a href="http://www.chicagonow.com/moms-who-drink-and-swear"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Moms Who Drink and Swear</span></a>; for Gabe, this means hand counting the number of pages in the book he's about to read before he begins reading it- including those blank pages they put in the front and back of the book).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Eventually, the washing machine finishes its job and I call Gabe back into the laundry room.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Now you're going to take all the clothes out of the washing machine and place them in the dryer."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"But, Mom, they're wet!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I do my typical Asperger's Mom's count-to-ten. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Yes, Gabe, I understand you have texture issues but you need to get over this. You can't expect other people to do your laundry for you your entire life." (Asperger's people often can't abide certain textures: the feel of paper, cotton balls, seams of clothes, anything damp, or squishy, etc.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"No, Mom, I don't care that they're wet. I'm just asking . . . um, is it okay to put wet clothes in the dryer?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now I do the not-oft employed Asperger's Mom's count-to-<i>twenty</i> (mostly so I don't laugh out loud in front of him).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Gabe, why wouldn't I put wet clothes in the dryer?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Because, um . . . it will break the dryer?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Gabe, why do you think this machine is called a '<i>dryer</i>'?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">He pauses to think.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUxTZh1nfFo9EES9x3WoyrP6qG8Qx_soaGo_vG2jTmK3m3u6BsiPP8lgSy6DWE3rNSoHaGWRdvMqbfqTZXPmmG9eZeebRefWXMmQjyi2OusGm4Ok7-3wjHOQVjIGuKpKKsrEtjMkShF4/s1600/Light-Bulb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUxTZh1nfFo9EES9x3WoyrP6qG8Qx_soaGo_vG2jTmK3m3u6BsiPP8lgSy6DWE3rNSoHaGWRdvMqbfqTZXPmmG9eZeebRefWXMmQjyi2OusGm4Ok7-3wjHOQVjIGuKpKKsrEtjMkShF4/s1600/Light-Bulb.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I do so love these precious moments.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Oh! That's so cool!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Then it's on to the discussion about the importance of fabric softener sheets (which turns into a flurry of scientifically based questions regarding static and fabric softness for which I'm hardly qualified to answer). Really, I can't just say, "There are magic static fighting fairies in the fabric softener sheet!" Why not? Because Asperger's kids, though often quite gullible, aren't <i>that</i> gullible. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The rest of the laundry-doing instruction goes quite well. Folding laundry makes him happy. He loves to sort the clothes based on to whom it belongs, largest pieces to smallest, and color schemes. Oh, happy Gabe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-Gh0OKFb28FgNPUiM7BelBFF3RPw1pkNk38wVmeIfmIgYatSc9PhDnDbWi8TJFLJj20QRO8lZSO98ltESmnZGug16u3YUpdD4f_ulOj14UZMszr_Wd6fiBWBEpb-7DNe9Sx6wtflIZc/s1600/folded_laundry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-Gh0OKFb28FgNPUiM7BelBFF3RPw1pkNk38wVmeIfmIgYatSc9PhDnDbWi8TJFLJj20QRO8lZSO98ltESmnZGug16u3YUpdD4f_ulOj14UZMszr_Wd6fiBWBEpb-7DNe9Sx6wtflIZc/s1600/folded_laundry.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>All bets are off </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>on </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>tidiness and </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>symmetry </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>once it reaches his room.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-42914842682955481802011-08-04T09:46:00.010-04:002011-08-04T10:14:20.621-04:00Did I Do That?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Do you know what I like about Blogspot? I like that I can go into my stats and see:<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>How many people are viewing my blog (on a daily, weekly, monthly and all-time basis).</li>
<li>What operating systems my viewers are using.</li>
<li>How people are arriving at my site.</li>
<li>Where these people are located globally.</li>
<li>Which blog posts are being read the most.</li>
</ul><i>And most importantly:</i><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><li><i></i>While searching for information, what keywords people are using that lead them to my site.</li>
</ul><div style="text-align: left;">So imagine my surprise this morning, while reading my stats, when I discovered what keywords are leading readers to click on my post <a href="http://beinglumina.blogspot.com/2011/07/transformers-3-michael-bays-wet-dream.html">Transformer 3: Michael Bay's Wet Dream for the Male Masses</a>. Let me tell you, looking back on it, I realize my naivete and I am feeling quite sheepish.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, no one used "wet dream" as a keyword to find my site. <i>At least not yet. </i>A little surprising, considering I've set myself up for it in my ignorance. Unfortunately, "leaking pussy" <i>is </i>the champion keyword for a lot of people who found my post.<br />
<br />
Never in my wildest dreams (none of them "wet") have I considered writing a piece about "leaking pussy". Yet, somehow, a lot of people who are curious about "leaking pussy" have found me. My only consolation is in imagining their surprise when they actually arrived at my blog and saw that my main content emphasizes feminism. Bwahahahahaaaaa!<br />
<br />
I'm sure these pervs would like to imagine that I set them up for it on purpose; that I misled them. In my defense, if you actually look at my labels (or keywords) under the post you will see the following list:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3a384e; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://beinglumina.blogspot.com/search/label/Transformers%20Frances%20McDormand%20Michael%20Bay%20misogyny%20Rosie%20Huntington-Whitely%20Shia%20LeBeouf%20Megatron%20Decepticon" rel="tag" style="color: #7f0700; text-decoration: none;">Transformers, Frances McDormand, Michael Bay, misogyny, Rosie Huntington-Whitely, Shia LeBeouf, Megatron, Decepticon</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">And I am really doubting there are many people who are searching the internet for Transformers-related media under the search term </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"leaking pussy"</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> (a term I </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">never once used in my actual post</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">).</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">So if you're one of the pervs who found my page by accident while perusing the internet for slippery squack I have only one thing to say to you: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">I hope you took the time to read through the entire post so that you were able to take in the bit about menstruating robots. Because that's as close as you're going to get to your preferred subject on </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">my </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">blog. Next time be sure, when typing your search words, to include whether or not you're looking for a human vagina as well as what type of fluid discharge you prefer.</span></span></i></span></div><br />
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</div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-20288461339123883432011-08-02T16:00:00.008-04:002011-08-10T07:52:50.175-04:00Demonizing Daddy and the Alienation Invasion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Today I'm going to write about something much more personal. It's a lightning rod, so put on your big girl panties and brace yourself.<br />
<br />
Before I begin:<br />
<br />
<blockquote><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Disclaimer:</span></i></b> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><i>I know that one answer is not always the best, just as I know that not all scenarios are the same. I understand that the issue of which I am about to discuss is multi-faceted and contains many shades of gray. I also understand that a vast number of people have their own story- or side of a story. This is not your story. It's mine. So please do me a favor and don't play devil's advocate. Just . . . listen.</i></span></blockquote><br />
As a long time feminist I have spent a great deal of time and energy snarling at dead-beat dads and demonizing men of divorce-torn families with children as casualties of war in the fight to "win". Yet, simply by existing and living through experience, I have had my eyes opened to my flaws and have learned that not all stories are one-sided, one side can never be <i>always </i>right, and that women can be just as evil as men . . . just as men can be just as innocent as women. Because the truth is, we are all human; flawed, struggling, adapting, and feeling human beings. Gender does not guarantee an ethical standard and stereotypes are dangerous.<br />
<br />
That being said, I'm ready to get my gripe on.<br />
<br />
I believe I have only mentioned in one previous (and brief) post that I am a stepmother (I am a biological mother as well . . . but that is a different story). My husband dearly loves his children and works hard to make sure they're provided for. We moved to the city in which we now live in order to be closer to his children (we are located within twenty minutes of their home). Yet despite the close proximity we seem to see them less and less every month. Now, three years later, they hardly want to see us at all. They have more important things to do than spend time with daddy.<br />
<br />
We have gotten reports from the children that mommy says bad things about daddy, or that when the children say bad things about daddy mommy agrees with them and eggs them on.<br />
<br />
We have offered to take care of the children during the summer months while mommy works (during daddy's time off) but they'd rather stay home alone than spend any time with us.<br />
<br />
And here's another stinky factor: they think we're boring. Daddy doesn't have a lot of money because he spends a lot of his earnings on child support payments. Not that we're griping. My husband is working 60 hour weeks to make sure his children are provided for and does so gladly . . . But because we can't play SuperDad and take them out shopping, to restaurants, and other entertainment . . . we're boring. We've tried taking them fishing, to free events, making up family entertainment, etc . . . but it's just not the same as it is at Mommy's.<br />
<br />
It seems a shame to penalize Daddy for being boring because he's broke when so much of his income goes toward taking care of them. Of course, being children they don't understand that. They just can't make the connection. And trying to explain it to them will only further traumatize minds that are already struggling to come to grips with the reality that Mommy and Daddy are divorced and now who is this crazy lady Daddy married?<br />
<br />
So here is the current conundrum: Daddy gets one solid week of summer visitation (as per the Parenting Plan- the Divorced Parent's Bible). The children were busy with camps and other activities from June through July. My husband was promised a wide open August to schedule as he pleased. So we waited. The only thing we pointed out to the biological mother was that our anniversary falls in the middle of August so we wouldn't be available on that particular weekend. The children start school on August 22, which nibbles down the window of opportunity a little.<br />
<br />
First of all, at the end of July the mother told us that she'd planned a three day camping trip with the children for the first weekend in August. She offered us a window of opportunity for the one week visitation that fell right in the middle of our anniversary. Okay, I'll play Pollyanna. Maybe she forgot. We were ready to accept a five day visitation so as to avoid squabbling with the kids in the middle. Then, the week before said camping trip, their mother informed us she'd canceled the trip altogether. With great hope, we saw an opportunity to mend the visitation plan and utilize the full seven days promised to my husband. We asked for August 4 through 11. After a week she finally got back to us (but only after we reminded her of our request and that we needed an answer so that we could prepare) and said that would be fine . . . Except that the oldest and youngest child only wanted to stay for three days, <i>not </i>seven.<br />
<br />
We tried to be diplomatic, and we wanted to know <i>why </i>only three days. We felt that if they could give us a valid reason then we'd be understanding and supportive. We also asked that the children call their father and discuss it with him. Our motive for this is that we needed to know that this was the children's idea and not their mother's.<br />
<br />
So the children called. It turns out that a family friend was supposed to visit the same week and the children didn't want to miss out. Understandable. These things happen. What if Daddy agreed to take you home (on his way to work, at 7a.m.) and leave you there all day so you can visit this family friend and then pick you up on his way home from work (7p.m.)? Would that be a reasonable compromise. Ummmmm..... uhhhhhh..... nooooooo. Oh, and by the way, stepmom is boring.<br />
<br />
So this is the dilemma: children don't always know what's best for them. If we didn't MAKE them brush their teeth, do their homework, and go to school most of them wouldn't. Sure, spending time with Daddy may seem boring now but fostering a bond and a relationship is more important than spending a few days with a family friend you only see about once a year. So do we MAKE them stay the whole seven days? Is it REALLY for their own good? Because if they're here and they're sulky and they feel forced into it that sends a negative message. But if we give up any more time than we already have and continue to allow their mother to alienate us with her games and negative comments isn't that <i>also </i>fostering a negative relationship? Do we let them get away with being selfish only to lose quality time with them and perhaps have them think that we only let them do what they want simply because we don't care about them? Do we let their mother get away with continuing to put us in a position where no matter what we do we are always the bad guys or do we put our foot down, which only compounds the children's belief that we're picking on their mommy? I don't know. There is no easy answer.<br />
<br />
And to make matters more convoluted: we just found out today that this family friend changed their plans and is, in fact, not coming at all. The children's mother <i>knew </i>this all along. Did she mislead them? Did the children know? Do we call the children on it and ask them if they have changed their minds? Or does doing so only make them feel more pressured? Or do we teach them accountability by encouraging them to be honest about their feelings?<br />
<br />
Okay, I'm done whining. I'll put my big girl panties on . . . one leg at a time.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, parental alienation is a real and present danger to children caught up in the middle of a divorce and/or the aftermath of divorce. If you are a separated or divorced parent please take a moment to participate in the following quiz to find out if <i>you </i>are an alienator:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"></span><br />
<h2 style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255) !important; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 12px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="color: #3333ff;">Am I a Parental Alienator? </span></strong></h2><div class="paragraph editable-text" style="line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 12px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><strong><span style="color: #ff6600;">Please answer unconditionally, YES or NO</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">1.</span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Have I ever criticized or spoken negatively about the other parent or his/her family or friends in front of my child or where the child can hear me?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">2. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Have I ever forced my child to choose between loving the other parent and me?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">3. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I talk about child support, money, or legal issues in front of my child?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">4. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I ever limit time with the other parent because I feel I am the best parent?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">5. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I ask the child to keep secrets, lie or hide things from the other parent?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">6. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I pump my child to get detailed information of where they go and what they do when they are with the other parent?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">7. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I ever prevent the child from speaking with the other parent by blocking phone messages, not returning phone calls, erasing email messages, not giving them mail or gifts?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">8. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I interrupt the child’s time with the other parent by calling too much or planning activities during their time together?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">9. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I deny my child the right to spend the designated time with the other parent?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">10. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Have I ever sabotaged any activity that my child is doing with the other parent?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">11. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I encourage my child to blame the other parent or to choose sides?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">12. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I use my child as a therapist or my special friend to share my deep and upsetting emotions?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">13. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I let my child know that I feel badly when he/she has a good time with the other parent?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">14. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I ask my child to spy for me while with the other parent?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">15. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I ever instill guilt, pressure, or rejection of the other parent in my child?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">16. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I make a contest of how much love, care, and attention the child gives to the other parent and his or her family and friends versus how much attention I receive?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">17. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Have you ever made false accusations, such as implying drug abuse or inappropriate sexual behavior to the police or Department of Child and Family Services?<br />
</span><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">18. </span></strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Do I stop my child from expressing his/her feelings whether I agree with them or not? (e.g., love, happiness, excitement, anger, fear, sadness)<br />
<br />
"If you answered "YES" to any of these questions, you need to evaluate to what extent you are engaging in parental alienation. Children need to be free to love both parents. If you don’t like the other parent or feel that they are inappropriate for your child, you need to solve the problem without resorting to destroying that child’s relationship with this parent. Your child can make up his or her own mind about how much they love or even like the other parent without being unduly influenced by you. Obsessed parent alienators will stop at nothing to damage or even </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">severe a child’s relationship with a parent. This is a serious form of child abuse where a child is not allowed to have loving feelings for his parent, or his or her extended family and friends. These people represent half of the child’s heritage. Most parents "slip up" once in a while, however, parents who really care about their child’s best interest will do all they can to keep their child out of the middle and allow them to love both parents."</span></div><div class="paragraph editable-text" style="line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 12px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">T<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">o know more about the above quiz and/or other information regarding PAS, please visit the following link: </span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://www.majorfamilyservices.com/parental-alienation-quiz.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Major Family Services</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span></span></span></div><div class="paragraph editable-text" style="line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 12px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Here is another link to an excellent website offering more information about </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">what </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">parental alienation is, how it happens, the motives and "logic" (or lack thereof) of the alienating parent, what to expect from the courts and child support services, and how alienated parents can cope:</span></span> <a href="http://www.breakthroughparenting.com/PAS.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Parents Who Have Successfully Fought Parental Alienation Syndrome</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span></span></span></span></div><div class="paragraph editable-text" style="line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 12px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="paragraph editable-text" style="line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 12px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">*</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am in no way marketing or encouraging the purchase of any products that may be offered for sale on the links I have provided. I have provided the links because I feel that they offer some helpful information about Parental Alienation Syndrome.</span></span></i></b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">August 3 update: The oldest child now states that she wants to take a babysitting job that will keep her busy from Monday through Wednesday. The cynical part of me says, "Isn't that convenient now that she doesn't have the 'friend coming to visit' excuse?" The exasperated part of me leans more toward, "Oh hell, if she doesn't want to come then why make her?" Then there's the principled part of me, "I will not give up. We are fighting for our family here."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes I wonder who is more stuck in the middle of this tug-of-war: me and my husband or the children? A sneaky little voice in the back of my head reminds me, "The children."</span><br />
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</div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-53131418637542001792011-08-02T13:29:00.007-04:002011-08-04T11:00:53.633-04:00Be Careful What You Ask For<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It is a common predicament of mine to be asked, "Why are you a feminist?"<br />
<br />
Yes, I said "predicament". No one gets asked why they are female/male, why they breathe, why they brush their teeth, or why they want (and expect) to be treated justly. So it's a predicament because it's a loaded question. No one I've met ever <i>really</i> asks me just because they want to hear my answer. Mostly they already have a retort lined up and are asking the question as a launching pad to hammer me with their own opinion. I suppose it's human nature though. So many of us ask questions not because we seek the truth but because we have an answer of our own that is more important to us than what anyone else has to say.<br />
<br />
I dream of a day when people ask questions because they honestly want to stop, listen, and appreciate a good answer.<br />
<br />
There used to be a time when I looked forward to being asked this question. I saw it as my opportunity to enlighten people. I saw it as a doorway in which I could open their minds in a way in which I was an invited guest, rather than forcing my ideals and objectives on others; however, I now know better.<br />
<br />
"Why are you a feminist?" is a question that does not fill me with hope that my dream will one day come true. Because, truly, most people are not prepared for the answer (whether they really wanted to know, or because they didn't realize the magnitude of what they were asking, or because they're too focused on their own motive to conscientiously listen to my response). Asking, "Why are you a feminist?" is a little like asking, "Why do we exist?"; it's difficult to deliver a short and concise answer that will fit into the typical human attention span. And it's usually conjoined with questions to the effect of, "Why do we still need the feminist movement?"<br />
<br />
People ask, thoughtlessly, without realizing what they're asking <i>for.</i> So when my answer passes the three-minute mark, and eyes start glazing over, I become (to their way of thinking) the fanatic ranter, the hysterical femi-nazi.<br />
<br />
Thus, I want to burn several CDs of this presentation and just keep oodles of them on hand for random "Why are you a feminist?" encounters. I'll hand people the CD and ask them to watch this presentation at a time that is convenient to them, and they shall have all the answers they require:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/aqzE16UsNW4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Then again, who am I kidding? No one will ever give this presentation a chance as long as re-runs of Jersey Shore are still being aired on cable TV.</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-37802456171888221372011-07-23T15:20:00.004-04:002011-07-24T16:52:00.700-04:00Transformers 3: Michael Bay's Wet Dream for the Male Masses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's no surprise to anyone that Michael Bay makes misogynistic movies. So I'm not going to waste everyone's time trying to explain why. I'm not his mommy and it's not my job to teach him better (but I wouldn't mind volunteering).<br />
<br />
I went to see Transformers 3 with a good friend of mine and her seven year old son. After leaving the theatre I had the strong temptation to sit the boy down and have a long talk with him about women's worth as human beings (rather than as objects of sex, malice and/or disdain). Is it too early to teach him how to spell misogyny? I also wanted to teach him that women do have the power and ability to save themselves and that, while it is always cool to step in and save a woman who has run out of self-saving options, he should never ever assume that a woman doesn't have <i>any </i>ability to save herself if she does indeed require saving. Also, the sharing of weapons with a woman while in the midst of a worldwide take-over by Decepticons is a thoughtful way to let her know that you think she matters.<br />
<br />
The first thing I noticed about this movie was that there weren't a lot of women in it. The few women they had sprinkled throughout the early scenes as extras were all hot. One got in trouble for dressing as a hoochie mama at work. Damn her for being sexy and distracting these men from their "very important jobs". Another got in trouble for using a red coffee cup on the yellow floor (each floor of the building was apparently color coded). Upon being chastised for her poor choice of self-expression she fled the room in tears. Apparently Michael Bay doesn't get about much in the real world, where such abuse would have garnered him a red coffee mug imbedded in his skull. Or maybe that's the whole point: Michael Bay is obviously trying to portray a fantasy world where men rule (and drool) and women are either pains in the ass or else just gratuitous juicy ass.<br />
<br />
There was a very small handful of women who were allowed to have "pivotal" roles in the film. I'm still trying to figure this part out as it didn't seem to matter if any of these women lived or died- one way or the other the men would still save the world from alien robots sporting themselves as super-charged vehicles made to buck up a man's small-cocked ego.<br />
<br />
Only one "pivotal" character was allowed to be hot: Carly Spencer, played by Rosie Huntington-Whitely, who was chosen <s>for her impressive acting experience</s> oops <s>because she's a Victoria's Secret model</s> oops. Let me try again: who was chosen because of her long gams, quarter-bouncing worthy ass, and a mouth that men believe is begging to suck on something (despite the fact that the lips don't actually ever say any such thing). Funny how her employer gives her a $200,000 car and she sees no problem with it. When her boyfriend (that goober LeBeouf) has a fit about it he's just being silly, in her honest opinion. It's obvious what a good employee she is and of course she deserves this car and has earned it honestly. It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that she's a Victoria's Secret model who's wardrobe requires her to vaseline her body before she gets dressed. Besides, we all know lots of people who have been gifted a Mercedes SLS-AMG by their employer simply for doing their job. Right?<br />
<br />
So how was Rosie's character pivotal? It's quite simple. The bad guys threatened to disfigure her face. Thus, LeBeouf has no other choice but to compromise the existence of the entire human race just to save that pretty, lip smackin' face.<br />
<br />
But I will give Huntington-Whitely kudos for a job well done: it is hard to be a damsel-in-distress, being shot at and falling out of toppling skyscrapers and still manage to keep your make-up, hair, and wardrobe impeccable throughout. Bravo, HW, bravo!<br />
<br />
Believe it or not there were two other pivotal females in the film: LeBeouf's mother, who is a post-menopausal nitwit who just doesn't listen and has only two brain cells: one that blinks on and off while the other one runs around it in circles, yapping. I use the term "pivotal" very lightly. I can't see either way why she's important to the plot except that Bay needs to flesh out how sucky LeBeouf's life is because, ya know, having an Autobot as a best friend and a Victoria's Secret model as a girlfriend is just not enough to make a man happy.<br />
<br />
The other female is the iconoclastic Frances McDormand, who must have a rather large skeleton in her closet or else Bay kidnapped a cherished loved one in order to blackmail her into being a part of this puke of a film. Her character is obviously pivotal because what would a movie like this be without a battle-ax to add angst? Don't worry, though. She gets hers in the end when she is yanked into a kiss against her will. Hey, it's the closest Bay can come to anything rapey and not get slapped on the wrist. Cuz we all know that battle-axes are just sexually frustrated women who can be fixed simply by forcing sex on them. Thank goddess for men like Bay for recognizing this, otherwise the world would be in much more dire straights than could ever be possible by a mere Decepticon invasion.<br />
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The coup de grace? When HW's character basically tells Megatron he's a pussy if he doesn't get up and fight. Oh what crafty female sorcery is this? Hey, wait . . . does this mean that ultimately it <i>was </i>a woman who saved the world?<br />
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The only thing the movie really lacked to complete Bay's misogynist fantasy would be a terrifyingly powerful female Decepticon leaking transmission fluid from her undercarriage. And for that I'm truly disappointed.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpR4FE8YQ0Xs5OQHD_Jh58ok1hMGVTLI40jGjLu3eBgXMTwinZ1ctuTGjeA_mY5WrotpQIQyFUjqUl7DTBH1uiXfxOPmjHI5g3Ogl41J2O8aZ27_6wV3alQHcbe9llB_nuk-ZM1OuVLI/s1600/zamboni-transmission-fluid-leak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpR4FE8YQ0Xs5OQHD_Jh58ok1hMGVTLI40jGjLu3eBgXMTwinZ1ctuTGjeA_mY5WrotpQIQyFUjqUl7DTBH1uiXfxOPmjHI5g3Ogl41J2O8aZ27_6wV3alQHcbe9llB_nuk-ZM1OuVLI/s320/zamboni-transmission-fluid-leak.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Does Kotex make a pad for this?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-14475409545293087922011-07-20T15:16:00.000-04:002011-07-20T15:16:32.402-04:00A Different Philosophy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's always an interesting ride in Gabe-Land for me.<br />
<br />
He sees things differently. He thinks differently. He reacts differently. And he's crazy-smart when he needs to be.<br />
<br />
It's the crazy-smart that makes it difficult to teach him morals, personal accountability, and responsibility.<br />
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Case in point:<br />
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I got a phone call from his school one day saying that he was being difficult and needed to come home. They were suspending him for a day for having skipped a class.<br />
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When I got him home I asked him, "Gabe, your teacher said that you refused to report to your 2nd block class. WHY????"<br />
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"Mom," He replied, exasperated, "She's lying!"<br />
<br />
"Gabe, why would your teacher lie to me?!"<br />
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"But, Mom, I didn't <i>refuse </i>to go to class . . . I <i>chose</i> not to go."<br />
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It's always difficult to discipline your kid when half your brain wants to paddle blisters into his butt while the other half of your brain is saying, "<i>That's </i>a freaking brilliant kid!"</div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-68138184591731560432011-06-02T09:58:00.000-04:002011-06-02T09:58:34.870-04:00Women Deserve Better<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/BoLL6Zqc-Qo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
</div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-63703232887415298382011-04-05T17:34:00.004-04:002011-04-11T09:01:13.225-04:00Shut Up and Drive<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="body" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="body" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Danica Patrick: Men cannot seem to discern whether she's a driver or a hood ornament. After doing some research I can't say that I blame them for their confusion. It's hard to take <i>this </i>seriously:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbnNEJsy8U2a_UQ5oIWzMXHW5belqAE5DF0C2RhplJ8wNAMUiAVnktpyOuygIqU-XaHX72ifLWplNZ6n7YOO0mzHT0K-7-UTByKLC8Tbnc1bltdJBjiUDa17wIPFDXGhxEZegb1B_P0Y/s1600/danica-patrick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbnNEJsy8U2a_UQ5oIWzMXHW5belqAE5DF0C2RhplJ8wNAMUiAVnktpyOuygIqU-XaHX72ifLWplNZ6n7YOO0mzHT0K-7-UTByKLC8Tbnc1bltdJBjiUDa17wIPFDXGhxEZegb1B_P0Y/s320/danica-patrick.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not that I have anything against women glorifying their feminine aspect, but in some arenas it just causes more trouble than it's worth, especially if that arena is historically a "No Girls Allowed" venue. Besides, photos like this aren't about glorifying the Beauty That is Woman; photos (like this) are about selling your body for acceptance in the Mens' Club. And once you've done that you've nullified any attempt at being taken seriously by men.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That being said, please don't assume that I'm victim blaming. Nothing can be further from the truth. It's just frustrating to see women set themselves up for the label.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The victim blaming I'm alluding to is connected to an incident that happened within the last month where Danica was forced off the track by another (over-zealous) driver. I don't typically watch NASCAR but my husband watches it from time to time and on the morning after the afore-mentioned event he happened to be watching a sports report while I was still asleep. What woke me up was hearing the words (something to the effect of), "That's not ladylike behavior." I perked up instantly. What? What did she do? To my amazement her unladylike gaff was committed when she stood at the side of the track, while all the other drivers blew by, raising her hands in supplication and frustration at the driver who had knocked her off the track. Really? She didn't flip him the bird? She didn't moon him? She didn't scream and yell and toss out curse words with the linguistic dexterity of a sailor? Exhibiting frustration through arms extended is now considered unladylike.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At this point I want to take you back several years to my childhood. Despite what my children will say, we will not go back to when dinosaurs roamed the Earth. The year is 1982 and I am [omitted for my vanity] years old. I am riding around the neighborhood on my brand new ten speed. A group of five teenage boys block my path and start verbally harassing me. I give back as good as I get. Apparently I say something pretty stimulating because all five boys jump me, knock me to the ground, kick me around a bit, and steal my bike. I limp on home in a fit of rage. Immediately my parents ask where my bike has gone. I tell them my story, not withholding my responses to the boys' verbal insults. My parents call the police. Witnesses are able to identify the boys and soon the police arrive at the "lead" boy's house. About forty-five minutes elapse before a police officer returns to our house. He says to my parents, "We have her bike but we're not willing to give it back until she apologizes to those boys. Apparently she used some very unladylike language with them and they say that if she had kept her mouth shut they wouldn't have attacked her and taken her bike." There is more to this story, but it's all peripheral after that, so you get the point. (I would, however, like to use this moment to give an accolade to my mother, who demonstrated to the police officer where I received my education in "unladylike langauge".)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Victim blaming: If I had remained "ladylike" in the face of ungentlemanly behavior I wouldn't have been assaulted and my bike taken from me. </span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So when Danica Patrick does </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this: </span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://indymotorspeedway.com/images/danica803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://indymotorspeedway.com/images/danica803.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. . . it's difficult for men to remember that she also does </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this:</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.allleftturns.com/www/sites/default/files/articles/danica-patrick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://cdn.allleftturns.com/www/sites/default/files/articles/danica-patrick.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. . . and having proven thus, is justified in her behavior when she does </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this:</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/7Dgw5mwtB3w?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Never mind that Truex admitted he'd screwed up and it was his fault. Never mind that he apologized. None of that matters. Because Danica Patrick is </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> in the minds of NASCAR fans:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.straferight.com/photopost/data/500/danica-patrick-fhm-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.straferight.com/photopost/data/500/danica-patrick-fhm-3.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So instead of sympathy she gets </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.al.com/sports/index.ssf/2011/03/danica_patrick_complains_too_m.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Danica Patrick Complains Too Much</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. And no one likes a woman who complains. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ahem.</span></i></span></span></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></span></span></span></i></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I found a plethora of articles about male NASCAR drivers who act like complete buffoons. For example: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><a href="http://sports.yahoo.com/nascar/blog/from_the_marbles/post/Kyle-Busch-penalized-for-one-finger-salute-of-NA?urn=nascar-283150"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Boys Will Be Boys</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. Maybe if Danica had done like Busch, and claimed First Amendment Rights, she wouldn't have created such a scandal . . . Okay, who am I kidding?</span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This whole debacle brings to mind Immanuel Kant (who makes me want to barf at the mere mention of his name): </span></span></span></span></span></div><blockquote><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If vanity is a fault that in a woman much merits excuse, a haughty bearing is not only as reproachable in her as in people in general, but completely disfigures the character of her sex. For this quality is exceedingly stupid and ugly, and is set completely in opposition to her captivating, modest charms</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">.</span></blockquote><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To Kant's way of thinking, women are meant to be a pretty diversion for men, who require to be distracted from the burden of serious thought and responsibility. If a woman tries to be anything other or more than vacuous and pretty she is haughty and therefore must be rejected. Patrick bought into it by posing like </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">this:</span> </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://pro-thinspo.com.p12.hostingprod.com/images/danica-patrick-sports-illustrated-swimsuit-issue-2009-02_1_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://pro-thinspo.com.p12.hostingprod.com/images/danica-patrick-sports-illustrated-swimsuit-issue-2009-02_1_.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. . . and is now seen as haughty and unbearable. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She complains too much. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She is not being</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">agreeable or charming. And now she's paying the price by not being taken seriously. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Please remember, I'm </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">not </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">victim blaming. Consider the words of Simone de Beauvoir: </span></div><blockquote><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Woman is determined not by her hormones or by mysterious instincts, but by the manner in which her body and her relation to the world are modified through the action of others than herself.</span></i></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not necessarily suggesting that Patrick was wrong to show off her "assets". She should be allowed to express herself in any way she sees fit. I guess what I'm inferring is that our social system is so damned screwed up that most people just can't look past the bikini to see the complex being that exists within it's teeny-tiny strings. </span><br />
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<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And to all those men who vilified Patrick as "unladylike", who feel that she has no business in a "man's sport": </span></div><blockquote><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No one is more arrogant toward women, more aggressive or scornful, than the man who is anxious about his virility.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> ~Simone de Beauvoir</span></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/up7pvPqNkuU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-40889334902707968412011-04-05T12:26:00.015-04:002011-04-05T14:23:53.683-04:00God of Gaps<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This morning I went through my usual internet routine:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Check e-mail </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. Peek at (with one wary eye) my checking account balance</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Update my Facebook status (because if I don't the world will implode)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. Check out the current weather forecast</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. Make myself current on leading local, national and international news</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. (Favorite part of my internet activities) read new posts from my favorite blogs</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Number six is the crucial purpose for my blog post today because it is all about<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> </span><a href="http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Pharyngula</span></a>'s account of the </span><a href="http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2011/04/lawrence_krauss_vs_william_lan.php"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">debate between Lawrence Krauss and William Lane Craig</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. Particularly of interest to me was number THREE of Krauss's refutal of Craig's five arguments, in which Craig asserts " . . . that the existence of absolute morality gives evidence for God." (As an aside, I must ask where evidence of this "absolute morality" exists, as I've seen no proof of it in the history of Humankind.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once again, Christians put the cart before the horse. They rely on the old, "what came first, the chicken or the egg" argument in an effort to find proof for God's presumed existence. Hence the title of this blog post, a most apropos term coined by Krauss himself. Where ever Christians find a vacuum in their assertions, theories, and philosophies regarding the existence of God, rather than using logic to recognize that the existence of the vacuum as proof that there are flaws in the afore mentioned arguments and assertions, they instead claim that this vacuum, this absence of empirical data, is proof that God </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">does </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">indeed exist. So, in a nutshell, what cannot be observed or understood, measured, or qualified is </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And in a strange reversal of logic (perhaps the crux of my argument that Christians don't have any) Christians expect Atheists to prove the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">non</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-existence of God by use of empirical data. In other words, we are expected to observe, understand, measure and qualify the absence of the God of Gaps.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throughout history people have used superstition to explain that which was not understood; however, as humans have begun to understand the scientific mechanisms of nature we have left those superstitions by the wayside. Otherwise, we'd still be burning "witches" at the stake. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/yp_l5ntikaU/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yp_l5ntikaU&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yp_l5ntikaU&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I digress. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The reason I find Craig's "Argument Number Three" of interest is due to his assertion that God is the bastion of "absolute morality". How can that be? I will not get into the circular arguments of:</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Humans are imperfect in their interpretation of God's will</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. God tests us </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. God puts strife and sorrow and horrors in our path to teach us Important Moral Lessons</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. Etc., ad nauseam [insert circular argument of your choice here]</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead I will point out a flaw in the argument that God </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">has </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">morals and point out how the Christian belief of God </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Moral Compass is another example of Cart-Before-Horse Syndrome.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My argument is grounded in the theory of morality as a product of the evolution of empathy. To understand the nature-and-nurture process of empathy, please watch this cute little video:</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://beinglumina.blogspot.com/2011/02/one-human-race.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">One Human Race</span></span></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">According to the New Testament (or at least according to those who claim the New Testament as proof) God is the God of Compassion, Kindness and Love. Yet, how can that be when there is </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">no other like Him</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">? All powerful (omnipotent), all knowing (omniscient), ever-present (omnipresent) (but especially in the gaps). In other words, not-human. The core value of morality is empathy. Empathy is derived from a connectivity between human beings individually, or as an ethnicity, as a gender, as a nation, as a species, etc.. Despite our vast array of differences and all that makes us individually </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">us</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, we have identifiers that help us to connect and feel compassion for those with whom we relate. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So how does God relate to us in any way? Because he is our Father? God doesn't have a father, so how would He connect with that assertion? Because we are His creation? That's a treacherous slope to slide on, for even children create things (such as sand castles) and then destroy them, simply because it is amusing. Children feel no connection or bond to sand castles; it's simply something to do rather than be bored. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If we are "other" in God's eyes then we are alien to Him (and vice versa!). As human beings we tend to reject that which we do not understand, we reject strangers (those whom we classify as "other"). It is human instinct. It's a safety measure. So even if God created us in His image it doesn't mean a damned thing because we are still different in all the important ways: we are not omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent. We and God are strangers to each other.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Due to His aspect as the Ultimate Cosmic Power, it is in our hands (and in our desire) to connect with Him, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">not </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">vice versa. That connection offers us comfort because it makes us feel </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">safe </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in the hands of what could possibly (and probably) be an all-powerful tyrant. After all, why should He be bothered? Creating the myth of Jesus gives humans the ability to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">feel</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> that connection. It protects us from having to consider the mind-boggling aspect of an U.C.P., cold, distant, different, and unconnected, indifferent to human feeling. Which proves to me that humans created God in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Their</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> image, not the other way around. And human beings, flawed as we are, have no concept of "absolute morality" because morality is that which we prescribe depending on with whom we connect.</span></div></div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-61057152067032051322011-03-22T09:22:00.001-04:002011-03-22T09:24:38.946-04:00Apparently I'm a Sadist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Holy smokes! I have been so good about adhering to my gluten-free diet. It is so refreshing to not be a slave to my colon. (<i>Did I say that out loud?</i>) No more daily gut pains, no more tactically staking out restrooms every time I leave the house. I have dropped my title and duties as the Porcelain Convenience Warmer. Aaaaaaaaaaah! Why, I feel positively <i>normal</i>.<br />
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So why did I do it? Why did I cheat? I have so many excuses . . . and that's all they are: <i>excuses.</i> Humans have a funny way of forgetting pain and trauma once they've been far enough removed from it via time. Therefore, it all comes down to this: I was feeling great, we had a lot of upheavals happening all at once (albeit positive upheavals), I slacked on my discipline in exchange for convenience, I caved to wanton desire . . . and for almost an entire week I ate foods that most definitely were NOT classified gluten-free (flour tortillas, pizza, lasagna, cake . . . Oh good grief, I don't want to admit to any more contraband due to an intense feeling of shame and embarrassment.).<br />
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And what happened? My gut tightened up. I started having horrible stomach pains. I started visiting the bathroom with ridiculous frequency. I had to get up two or three times a night just to let the toilet know how much I appreciated its existence. I had to cancel a walking date with my poor little doggy because I couldn't be separated from the bathroom for more than five minutes.<br />
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I am disgraced. I am ashamed. I am regretful. I am penitent. I am back on the bandwagon. Because I'm tired of squeezing the Charmin'. </div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-26828480701873066732011-03-20T15:22:00.000-04:002011-03-20T15:22:58.382-04:00I Got a Virus, and Not the Internet Variety<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I'm just making a little post to apologize for the long lapse between posts and the fact that I haven't posted anything under the <a href="http://beinglumina.blogspot.com/p/gluten-free-zone.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>Gluten-Free Zone</b></span></a> or <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><a href="http://beinglumina.blogspot.com/p/monday-media-blitz.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Monday Media Blitz</span></a> </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">for weeks.</span></span><br />
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I have spent the good part of three weeks over-coming a virus. Not sure what I had but it was definitely a strain of influenza. I am not a selfish person so I was very successful in sharing it with both my husband and my son. Ugh.<br />
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At any rate, I'm all better now, so let the blog roll!</div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-4482146668940509482011-02-24T15:07:00.005-05:002011-04-07T08:02:50.148-04:00Rock My Monkey Interviews the Dropkick Murphys and Discuss Scott Walker, Unions and the State of Wisconsin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mark Carras, of RMM, interview with the Dropkick Murphys:</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.rockmymonkey.com/interviews/2011/2/24/dropkick-murphys-ken-casey-speaks-out-on-wisconsin-union-fig.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Rocky my Monkey interview</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Thanks, Mark!)</span></span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was overjoyed to watch this video clip today. Finally, an informative (and dare I say <i>entertaining</i>) illustration of how empathy works.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Having taken countless college-level courses on the subjects of anthropology, sociology, philosophy, biology, and so many other -oligies there wasn't anything in the clip that surprised me. My problem has never been with my understanding of the mechanisms of empathy, rather it has always been in trying to explain to others, in two minutes or less, what took me hundreds of hours of -ologies to learn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here is my major frustration when trying to explain empathy: I am an atheist. Compounding this frustration is the fact that I live in the South. Living in the South is like living in the Dark Ages. Southerners, for the most part, are an ignorant bunch. Now I realize this was a strong statement but please hear me out. The high poverty level, deplorable national ranking in education and central location in the Bible Belt combined with a cultural aversion to change has made the South stagnate. They reproduce their own ignorance and, quite frankly, those who hold power in the South (the politicians, the corporations, and fundamental Christian fanatics) like it that way. Those who are under the hold of these powerful bastions of greed are not fed enough daylight with which to see their way out of the darkness. It is sad, really. I have lived all over the world and have never seen so much rampant ignorance in my life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I go about my atheist way, minding my own business (for the most part- after all, I'm merely human), and trying to lead by example. Yet I find myself in the same experience time and time again: someone I have known for an extended period of time (a Southerner) comes to the realization that I am an atheist. They recoil in horror.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLzJi02NPtbsVpKarL8_QizpWzBW5lSqcGqRqkzmp19f9bK1SEymlEFyr9Yc9Gd3XN2P5hJpDqkYanp4z4W2_V0Og9uUKFmLeokV5S5QiXRFXXlnf1VlmYNQKUhvZDLwyYw6i6-MAh2Q/s1600/HorrifiedWoman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLzJi02NPtbsVpKarL8_QizpWzBW5lSqcGqRqkzmp19f9bK1SEymlEFyr9Yc9Gd3XN2P5hJpDqkYanp4z4W2_V0Og9uUKFmLeokV5S5QiXRFXXlnf1VlmYNQKUhvZDLwyYw6i6-MAh2Q/s1600/HorrifiedWoman.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They say they will pray for me. Then they ask me that magical question which makes me cringe: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But . . . but . . . how do you live without morals?</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Really? Religion has a monopoly on morals?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The first few times I was asked this question I was giddy with the opportunity to help enlighten someone else's intellect. I believed I was about to <i>share </i>knowledge. I did not answer defensively, nor did I go on the offense, I merely tried to explain myself as simply as possible in the hopes that I was planting a seed of understanding in the world.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Silly me, I am in the South. After several attempts to explain how <i>empathy</i> is the driving force of my moral character, that I follow the Golden Rule and treat the world as I would like to be treated, I learned to just shut up and walk away. (As a side note, I sometimes have the subversive desire to tell these people that I sacrifice black cats during a full moon and fornicate with my dog; but I realize that is just my rage and frustration talking and I need to leave <i>those </i>feelings behind me or else I become that which these people believe me to be. Sometimes I hate being an empathetic being.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Back to where I learned to just shut up and walk away. The reason I have learned to jsuawa is that they do not <i>listen</i>. They are stuck on "atheist" and their minds are too busy coping with the fact that I "deceived" them for so long. (All Southerners assume everyone else is Christian too because, you know, Jews and Muslims and Atheists and other -ists are so easy to spot. You know, they have big noses and beady eyes, or wear a burqa, or have the number 666 tattooed on their foreheads.) They are horrified to realize that they have accepted me in their sphere of gospel-y goodness and are frantically trying to figure out how they missed the <i>signs</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It saddens me to hear so many times, from people who proclaim themselves to be devout Christians, that I cannot possibly have morals if I do not believe in God. Explaining that I believe in the Golden Rule has done more damage to my argument than good. They immediately point out that the Golden Rule is basically the Ten Commandments and that if it were not for God I would not have ever been exposed to the Golden Rule. Trying to remind them that there were other world religions long before Christianity ever hit the globe and that the basic tenets of most world religions are comparable does not even make a dent in their gray matter. Trying to explain that empathy is a cultural <i>and </i>biological phenomenon is the same as trying to communicate with them in Swahili. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What saddens me the most, however, are the people who tell me that they behave morally so they can go to Heaven. Do you know why I behave morally (using the term loosely, of course, because morals tend to have a variable culture-to-culture construct)? I behave morally because it is the <i>right thing to do</i>. I behave morally in the hopes of a more peaceful existence on a planet torn apart by hatred, greed, fear and ignorance. I believe in a reward here on Earth. I believe the reward is a gift and the gift is <i>this life</i>. In the eyes of these people though, people who are blinded by their own ignorance, that is not enough. They have been told, and so believe, that the reward is Heaven. In other words, they do not behave morally for the sake of being moral, they do so for a reward. In their minds, and hearts, they honestly believe that without that Heavenly reward, there is no point to having morals. Absolutely tragic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And what about all the wars waged in the name of religion? What about all those religious leaders who have been exposed as frauds? What about the fractious behavior of a Catholic Church that is rife with pedophilia? What about all those anti-abortion fanatics who murder in the name of stopping "murder"? Why should I believe in any religion when none of the world's religions have offered me anything but hypocrisy?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So maybe, <i>just maybe</i>, whether or not one believes in a higher being (or beings), we can all embrace our Homopathic tendencies and accept each other for what we are: one human race. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0kMPLBhjs5oDqimkT1-ZLAoZoG-rbF8mdGxWaBQdlxQkrmbJg2KP13jMmBHUwTbDV_7MkkpJvhrw-jjXzyOcN1OV6HgE5iJ5BcL1McT-ndPUd_RsP6QLG7zxyET9Ezlxp6ex_tPSPXaM/s1600/one-race-human-red-t-shirt_design.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0kMPLBhjs5oDqimkT1-ZLAoZoG-rbF8mdGxWaBQdlxQkrmbJg2KP13jMmBHUwTbDV_7MkkpJvhrw-jjXzyOcN1OV6HgE5iJ5BcL1McT-ndPUd_RsP6QLG7zxyET9Ezlxp6ex_tPSPXaM/s200/one-race-human-red-t-shirt_design.png" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This life is a gift. Every day is a gift. My loved ones are gifts. I am not greedy so I will leave Heaven for those who think they need it in order to lead an ethical life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Peace out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-36122869790463318262011-02-01T09:34:00.001-05:002011-02-01T09:39:44.646-05:00Gluten-Free and Feeling Fine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have been on the gluten-free diet for one week so it's definitely time to report.<br />
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Unfortunately, my data has been compromised by an insidious infiltrator into my lab experiment with my body. I came down with the flu on Friday.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhMk8Ahvrk_4f4tENNgEA3Tv3_3AN65rysnBzBOa5iWdP30T0VQHtPcQR5Vg019e8uAyZWRPZScZBNN7xF64f0GPxfUfzz9jUnAlziYWIsvWJFkJkJmDQ8OwI0fhsho2MRgygMc1pcAw/s1600/sick-girl-vector.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhMk8Ahvrk_4f4tENNgEA3Tv3_3AN65rysnBzBOa5iWdP30T0VQHtPcQR5Vg019e8uAyZWRPZScZBNN7xF64f0GPxfUfzz9jUnAlziYWIsvWJFkJkJmDQ8OwI0fhsho2MRgygMc1pcAw/s320/sick-girl-vector.jpg" width="304" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ugh. I never saw it coming. On Thursday I was fine. I woke up Friday morning and felt like I'd been trying to swallow a hot iron in my sleep. However, despite my pathetic state and an intense desire to shoot myself in the head, not only did I survive the flu but I survived it gluten-free.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My arthritis is almost non-existent and I now know what it's like to have a "normal" person's belly. In other words, no more strategizing where the nearest restrooms are every time I leave the house. The numbing and tingling sensations I used to get in my arms and legs is gone. I can't speak for the irritability and fatigue, or the diarrhea and nausea, as those are quite normal responses to having the flu. I hate when a lab experiment gets cross-contaminated! More importantly, I hate feeling like a petri dish. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>On the social front being gluten-free has proven to be more of a challenge:</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> I live in the South. It's like living in another country. There is no Whole Foods or Earthfare. There are virtually no good grocery stores in this area AT ALL. The nearest Whole Foods and Earthfare are about two hours from here. Furthermore, the grocery stores here don't have specialized sections for people with specific needs, like diabetics or those with Celiac Disease. So searching for food has been a bit tough.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I did, however, find this wonderful website where you can find everything you want and need but can't get locally:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.glutenfreemall.com/catalog/index.php?ref=707&affiliate_banner_id=11%22%20target=%22_blank%22%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.glutenfreemall.com/catalog/affiliate_show_banner.php?ref=707&affiliate_banner_id=11%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22450w%20x%20115h%20Gluten-Free%20Mall%20for%20Gluten-Free%20Foods%22%3E%3C/a%3E"></a><a href="http://www.glutenfreemall.com/catalog/index.php?ref=707&affiliate_banner_id=11" target="_blank"><img alt="450w x 115h Gluten-Free Mall for Gluten-Free Foods" border="0" src="http://www.glutenfreemall.com/catalog/affiliate_show_banner.php?ref=707&affiliate_banner_id=11" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They have bread. 'Nuff said.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Despite all my whining about the pathetic condition of grocery stores in this state I happen to work in one. This leads me to my other gluten-free social "challenge". When I'm at work I am constantly reminded of all the things I am <i>not allowed to eat</i>. If it weren't for sites like <a href="http://www.celiac.com/">www.celiac.com</a> I think I would probably go into a fit. Thankfully, sites like celiac.com and the Gluten-Free Mall offer me all kinds of ways to continue to eat my favorite foods (modified, of course), things like pizza and pancakes. Mmmmmm!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My last social challenge of the week of being gluten-free was that on the worst night of my flu my husband decided to order chinese food for dinner. What could I have? A quickie take-out order turned into a half hour search on the internet to answer that question. Due to the limited options and my flu-induced lack of appetite we settled for egg-drop soup. Once again, Mmmmmm!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Being sick has put me behind the eight-ball. I wanted to discover recipes, buy more ingredients, and expand my gluten-free experience but so far all I've got is the typical rice, potatoes and corn diet to go on. I am hoping that this week will be one of much enlightenment, experiments, and experience with an expanded gluten-free universe for me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'll let you know next week. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh, and if any of you gluten-free aficionados have any advice or recipes you'd like to share then PLEASE DO, BY ALL MEANS! (And thank you.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-68358100217763579732011-01-30T13:13:00.007-05:002011-01-31T13:32:18.166-05:00Black and White Thinking and the Various Uses for a Corncob<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So it happened again today. I had another one of those bizarre, frustrating and altogether comical interactions with my son.<br />
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Let me just play the scene out for you:<br />
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Upon going to the bathroom I realize we're out of toilet paper. I announce this to the house.<br />
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My husband (do I <i>have </i>to point out to everyone that he was joking?) responds with, "Time to pull out the corncobs!" To which I reply, "I don't think I want to fight the chickens for those!" (Yes, we have chickens, and so should you.)<br />
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My Aspy teen looks at me in bewilderment. "Why do you have to fight the chickens for the corncobs? What will you <i>do </i>with the corncobs?"<br />
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I take a deep breath, count to five in my head, and then forge into an explanation for him, "Well, honey, in the old days the pioneers didn't have grocery stores, let alone toilet paper, on the frontier. What do you think they used when they had to wipe their butts?"<br />
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My son stares at me blankly. Much like a chicken.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4GvOMtqMVS-cVhH9Iw2lS31shJbYvJNYV_rxhFEma9l2fXnkrxJXHBv0C_BmOdFqeXYGvRFs_mRKo3mivIPSwns9PGvPwArhIAP6GkUwDgPkCCdxLZuKcTcMwdxKUFmrIdrXnlb2M1hs/s1600/chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4GvOMtqMVS-cVhH9Iw2lS31shJbYvJNYV_rxhFEma9l2fXnkrxJXHBv0C_BmOdFqeXYGvRFs_mRKo3mivIPSwns9PGvPwArhIAP6GkUwDgPkCCdxLZuKcTcMwdxKUFmrIdrXnlb2M1hs/s320/chicken.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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"Honey," I say, "they used corncobs."<br />
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My son's eyes grow wide. "Really?"<br />
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"Yes, dear. Really."<br />
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He stares at me for another agonizing second before saying, "I think there are some corncobs on top of the chicken coop."<br />
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My husband, working in his office, doesn't hear this whole conversation. The only thing he hears is my adamant response: "GABE, I AM <i>NOT </i>WIPING MY ASS WITH A CORNCOB!!!"<br />
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To my husband's amused cackling, my son says, "What?"<br />
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And THAT, my friends, is what it's like to live with someone with Asperger's Syndrome.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK-TxUcc-Qy65nsaL5_IP1NpCaB4Ml3dEvNLvcdnC13TucxY9N8TJVmqxGfEeJqfFkm54nWUqobwZsVp4vLjQ9qlMD3suOI5YpImA0_gUr1_jyke7DpbPcm9OvI9b2vN6l9IucSvLOhQ/s1600/Corn+Cob+Toilet+Paper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK-TxUcc-Qy65nsaL5_IP1NpCaB4Ml3dEvNLvcdnC13TucxY9N8TJVmqxGfEeJqfFkm54nWUqobwZsVp4vLjQ9qlMD3suOI5YpImA0_gUr1_jyke7DpbPcm9OvI9b2vN6l9IucSvLOhQ/s320/Corn+Cob+Toilet+Paper.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>FAIL!</b></span></span><br />
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</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=lumina01-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=1843104814&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe> <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=lumina01-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0307396185&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr%22%20style=%22width:120px;height:240px;%22%20scrolling=%22no%22%20marginwidth=%220%22%20marginheight=%220%22%20frameborder=%220%22%3E%3C/iframe%3E"><iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=lumina01-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0307396185&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe> </a><br />
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</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-83146533075167646052011-01-30T12:40:00.000-05:002011-01-30T12:40:02.094-05:00Prêt-à-Porter?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuteY425xobcctK_EQjX1kbunymV8vRMMsdLiECeK_I4XRMznujpsvmHZhP6k3vejn9T49J_acAxS2CgYF9DfvDz1LbpP7HypDi7Ux_PFWhgxY1BJlIBd9el6z6LjrodYLu73-7JNWULE/s1600/gearing+up+the+heroine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuteY425xobcctK_EQjX1kbunymV8vRMMsdLiECeK_I4XRMznujpsvmHZhP6k3vejn9T49J_acAxS2CgYF9DfvDz1LbpP7HypDi7Ux_PFWhgxY1BJlIBd9el6z6LjrodYLu73-7JNWULE/s400/gearing+up+the+heroine.jpg" width="365" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-78619274752006356602011-01-30T12:13:00.025-05:002011-02-01T14:59:34.328-05:00What Is the Value of a Human Being? Well, That Depends. Do You Have a Uterus?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/27/opinion/27kristof.html?_r=1&src=ISMR_HP_LO_MST_FB">"Tussling Over Jesus"</a> by Nicholas D. Kristof<br />
<br />
I could go into a long tirade over why it is WRONG to refuse medical care to a person based on their gender and/or church affiliation.<br />
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I could go into a long tirade over why it is WRONG to let Christian dogma trump Christian tradition.<br />
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I could go into a long tirade over why it is WRONG to ex-communicate a hospital because it saved a life.<br />
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I could go into a long tirade over why it is WRONG to value one human life over another.<br />
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But this is just so much easier and I think (sadly) the general public will understand the concept in pictures better than in words:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFNBfDbiwEzRy0M_CEJ66l39LyIePEG9Kxx7yXMrNvQJ7OXk6F3nNh5nplScZkmWcwnstSi4wEMzslaAtgGIy_mVQH596X8-_YLOGD1QZd3v3MpZG-hOa3KC-WAdN6CoXuZvBwkuF8OA0/s1600/personhood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFNBfDbiwEzRy0M_CEJ66l39LyIePEG9Kxx7yXMrNvQJ7OXk6F3nNh5nplScZkmWcwnstSi4wEMzslaAtgGIy_mVQH596X8-_YLOGD1QZd3v3MpZG-hOa3KC-WAdN6CoXuZvBwkuF8OA0/s400/personhood.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So when the Catholic Church chooses to denounce a nun, as well as various hospitals, for making the difficult decision to save a mother's life rather than that of her compromised fetus I am left with only one question:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Why is an adult female life of less value than that of a pre-born or new-born child?</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After all, she was once pre-born and newborn herself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Okay, so one MORE question:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>When did I lose my right to live simply because I have a uterus?</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>January 30, 2011 UPDATE:</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">If we could get our heads out of our asses, turn off Glee, and maybe keep up on current events we'd realize that the "freedoms" the GOP promises are only a promise of freedom from autonomy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/30/opinion/30sun1.html?_r=2&ref=opinion"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Two Abortion Wars: A Highly Intrusive Federal Bill</span></a></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Because they just don't know when to STOP.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>February 1, 2011 UPDATE:</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">I received e-mails today from <a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/">Feministe</a> and <a href="http://pol.moveon.org/smithbill/splash.html?rc=homepage_splash">MoveOn.Org</a> regarding the new federal bill we're being threatened with via the GOP. They further describe how detrimental this bill will be to women's rights/HUMAN rights, as well as offer a way that we may each, individually, do our part to thwart the bill. Follow the links:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2011/01/31/why-abortion-funding-matters/</span></span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2011/01/31/dearjohn-standing-up-against-re-defining-rape-and-limits-on-reproductive-rights/</span></span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><u><a href="http://pol.moveon.org/smithbill/splash.html?rc=homepage_splash"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Redefining Rape?</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-60949118783546096222011-01-30T11:40:00.002-05:002011-01-31T13:35:57.380-05:00Waiting on Palin to Wag Her Dog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://www.linksalpha.com/discuss?id=palin-doubles-down-on-sputnik-and-spudnut-4181075741">Palin Doubles Down on 'Sputnik' and 'Spudnut'</a><br />
<br />
Apparently she's standing by her original ignorant statement about <i>how</i> Sputnik affected change in America's race to win the Space War.<br />
<br />
Now I'm just waiting for one of her typical bouts of circular logic, a la her claim of being victimized for using the term "blood libel". I am predicting, through crystal ball, tea leaves, tarot cards, and the entrails of a dead chicken, that she will eventually blame Sputnik NOT ONLY FOR THE FALL OF THE SOVIET UNION but also for her further ruin as the best Presidential Candidate of 2012.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvSbDbqUv6jiCws5dk4HVkx2DBx9nVsHDswSTqKB88cicqQi292w9VCm7dJn4oyGYoC6fy00yXCNWf9zZufQEMVW2g0Ksu7Aj99ml8QMgHqsOTnS9dWZHzfBP06hQ53OmpBwP1tGNG6U/s1600/crystal-ball11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvSbDbqUv6jiCws5dk4HVkx2DBx9nVsHDswSTqKB88cicqQi292w9VCm7dJn4oyGYoC6fy00yXCNWf9zZufQEMVW2g0Ksu7Aj99ml8QMgHqsOTnS9dWZHzfBP06hQ53OmpBwP1tGNG6U/s400/crystal-ball11.jpg" width="292" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-72759494056278138652011-01-30T10:18:00.002-05:002011-01-31T13:37:33.187-05:00The Evil Stepmother Strikes Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9AHFq_3R1C321bW843y8DbhMBVHh1B8Wnnshy0sutMnZE_R0XmEZ8rAW9ZZKEmLai7q9Pv2WApWX-EoOAWWiPF3M7eY2VIGYz8fPT11IRl8qrvMSPjqngQwbx2t7jjXIMTvYmwL6mkh8/s1600/evilstepmother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9AHFq_3R1C321bW843y8DbhMBVHh1B8Wnnshy0sutMnZE_R0XmEZ8rAW9ZZKEmLai7q9Pv2WApWX-EoOAWWiPF3M7eY2VIGYz8fPT11IRl8qrvMSPjqngQwbx2t7jjXIMTvYmwL6mkh8/s400/evilstepmother.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am the proud inheritor of three precocious stepdaughters. They are amazing. They are beautiful. They are intelligent. They are daunting. And I love each of them as if they were my own.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Being a stepmother of children who are already half grown up (they range in age from ten to sixteen years) has made me realize an awful truth: I have limited time in which to share my knowledge and wisdom with them in a way that will enhance their adult lives.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm not suggesting that they are not already well equipped to tackle the world. They made sure I understood their power right from the beginning. They are strong, and amazing, and intelligent, and daunting . . . Wait, I already said that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">However, I really DO want to help them understand, in a very gentle way, that the world is not all about waiting for Prince Charming, that the <i>Twilight </i>novels are not the Modern Girls' Bible, and that the color pink and small yippy dogs that fit in your purse are <i>not </i>the only accessories a woman needs to prove her status and level of success.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fortunately for me, all three girls are readers. So I was happy this morning to discover this really cool website:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://bitchmagazine.org/sites/default/files/documents/bitch-ya-list.pdf">100 Young Adult Books for Feminist Readers</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm a smart cookie myself; I'm not going to ram a feminist agenda down their throats (only further corroborating their theory that I'm the <i>crazy </i>wicked stepmother), thus creating the opposite of that which I am attempting to foster. I am simply going to buy them these books, one by one, and let their own brilliant minds fill in the gaps for themselves. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRmX8LjxGZ4k2ktj2BlsQlmMIlUg77U64t6jPUWbOestHBJIk-olWx8VakPbJiU4u9OjbyAzG6B_PqDB1BRvr0Xu89ov3hwTRNYPIS9vRxvJLJ1ijDSjr7UBpOBNwQe1D3kWn6xagx_E/s1600/evil-queen-snow-white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRmX8LjxGZ4k2ktj2BlsQlmMIlUg77U64t6jPUWbOestHBJIk-olWx8VakPbJiU4u9OjbyAzG6B_PqDB1BRvr0Xu89ov3hwTRNYPIS9vRxvJLJ1ijDSjr7UBpOBNwQe1D3kWn6xagx_E/s1600/evil-queen-snow-white.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Like the old saying goes, I plan to quietly plant the seed and walk away. Cuz that's how we wicked stepmothers roll.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-50853618574306007742011-01-28T10:10:00.004-05:002011-01-29T11:51:39.550-05:00Illuminati: Frenchy DeSoto<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Illuminati is a memorial page celebrating the lives of extraordinary people who have passed. It is dedicated to those enlightened souls who are a rare beacon of hope in an imperfect world. We are grateful for their efforts, their sacrifices, their passion and their accomplishments. Though they are gone they will always be an inspiration to us. Their selflessness, bravery, tenacity, and compassion are all examples of the human spirit, examples we can live by, thus allowing those listed within the Illuminati to shine on forever.</span></span></i></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i></i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Adelaide Keanuenueokalaninuiamamao</span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">"Frenchy" DeSoto, </span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Hawaiian Rights Activist</span></span></b></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>This first dedication is made in honor of a woman who's grandson is a friend of mine. I only met her once, very briefly, and wish I could have known her more.</i></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTqsmky8pDE"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">From KITV4 News</span></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.staradvertiser.com/news/20110123_Tough_OHA_activist_had_heart_of_gold.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Tough OHA Activist Had a Heart of Gold</span></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">One of her grandsons, describing her as a "compassionate warrior", shared these words with me:</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><blockquote>My grandmother Frenchy DeSoto was my buddy, my mentor, and my source of inspiration. It hurt me to lose my mother to cancer 10 years ago and it hurts me to lose my grandmother now. To many she was a political icon but to me she was just someone who protected me, loved me, helped me think, motivated me to go to college, and made me laugh. She always gave to the homeless even when she had so little and she couldn’t bear to see the maltreatment of child or elderly person. Thanks to those of you who are paying your respects and condolences. I've been cutting and pasting your kind words as I am putting together a scrap book for myself and my family . . . Like the rest of my family I am grieving but grateful to my grandmother and I am proud.</blockquote></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWsvYu2tf986sSDsss1t2UQ-C4odEjATJHABpM3ObD4JBgOTYwue8bb7Li_APoKDosoirMW8VZ8JK5roq2ADP_bfi_lYwpiG5h1wUiik3JcUcCaEMiXJzfp1LOORVfQ4xKqwwI3RGJig/s1600/pua+keni+keni.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWsvYu2tf986sSDsss1t2UQ-C4odEjATJHABpM3ObD4JBgOTYwue8bb7Li_APoKDosoirMW8VZ8JK5roq2ADP_bfi_lYwpiG5h1wUiik3JcUcCaEMiXJzfp1LOORVfQ4xKqwwI3RGJig/s320/pua+keni+keni.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</span></div></div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819989550626576610.post-16086567296738020442011-01-26T14:07:00.006-05:002011-02-01T07:31:42.389-05:00“That's metaphysics, my dear fellow. It's forbidden me by my doctor, my stomach won't take it.” ~Boris L. Pasternak<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEouGL9-YgIuwRU3nXyT1JdbkqkRb37acVfT7Ibc_gtv9m82RCTSnRsvA61fuGgSXYNpS7KF00ugMC2pdEHGjn-3-vEYuVtf0Oqp8k_IOWSFsQWaBzojRop9KeYghRsOArn5Q2dwY6_8/s1600/colonoscopy%252Bbest+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEouGL9-YgIuwRU3nXyT1JdbkqkRb37acVfT7Ibc_gtv9m82RCTSnRsvA61fuGgSXYNpS7KF00ugMC2pdEHGjn-3-vEYuVtf0Oqp8k_IOWSFsQWaBzojRop9KeYghRsOArn5Q2dwY6_8/s320/colonoscopy%252Bbest+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Ain't <i>that </i>the truth!<br />
<br />
It's time to get real, which means I'm going to talk about poop. Everyone in my family knows this about me: I talk about poop. I try not to but it just always seems to happen anyway. I suppose it is a part of me that I should just stop denying. On a psychological level it does make one wonder <i>what the hell is going on in my subconscious?!?! </i>Frankly, I refuse to go there.<br />
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So the whole point of this post is that I wish to keep a journal about my foray into the world of the gluten-free diet. The <i>reason</i> for this foray has everything to do with my bowels, which have been in an increasing revolt over many years.<br />
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For as long as I can remember I have suffered from IBS. Most of my life I have simply ignored it . . . Until about two years ago when I woke up in the grip of such extraordinary pain I found myself going to the one place I <i>do not </i>ever want to go: a hospital emergency room.<br />
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Many pokes and prods and laboratory tests later it was surmised that I suffered from colitis, an inflammation of the colon. Why couldn't I have some graceful or glamorous disease? Why can't I simply tell people I "have the consumption". Maaaaan! Colitis? Really? People don't mind talking about arthritis or benign tumors or diabetes but NO ONE wants to hear about an inflamed colon, not even <i>me</i>!<br />
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I was supposed to see a gastroenterologist but quickly put the nix on that when I was told they wanted to perform a colonoscopy. How much degradation could I possibly take? I'm sorry, but getting a tube shoved up my butt has the immediate effect of making me run in the opposite direction. Sorry, man, that's an <i>exit-only orifice</i>. My mother hates when I refer to it as the tube-up-the-ass. She insists I call it a "colonoscopy" and recognize it as a medical procedure. Sorry, mom, you spent way too many years telling me to respect my body and treat it like a temple. There isn't a dinner and flowers out there expensive enough to convince me to let anyone violate my most unholy of holies.<br />
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For the past two years I have dealt with the colitis pretty well. Except for a few small incidents I have been pretty much functioning "normally"; however, about three weeks ago I went into a colitis fit badly enough to actually consider returning to the dreaded E.R.. Instead of giving in to this consideration I did what any practical American would do in a time of crisis: I started researching my ailment on the internet.<br />
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Here's what I discovered: colitis is not the disease, it is the symptom. Which leads to the all-important question: symptom of <i>what</i>? Half of what I read would have convinced me that I'm going to die. Fortunately for me I am a natural skeptic. Besides, I have already come to grips with the fact that sooner or later <i>we're all gonna die</i>. So I let that crap (ahem!) go. Eventually I found a disease that matched all my symptoms, including ones that I never realized could be colitis related: anemia, fatigue, weakness, IBS, colitis, arthritis, unexplained infertility, diarrhea, abdominal pain, bloating, irritability (wouldn't you be irritable too if you suffered from all this stuff?), neuropathy, pallor, vertigo and voracious appetite.<br />
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The sites I covered suggested that one see a gastroenterologist and have the tube-up-the-ass treatment and a colon biopsy to ascertain (I made an ass pun!) whether or not one indeed suffers from Celiac Disease. If one has been positively diagnosed with Celiac Disease then one is immediately put on the gluten-free diet (as the disease is connected to an allergy to most major forms of wheat and whole grains). Upon streamlining one's diet on the gluten-free regimen one should cease and desist having any and all symptoms associated with the disease.<br />
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Which lead me to wonder: why would one condone the tube-up-the-ass treatment to find out they have the disease when one could simply start the gluten-free diet to see if any and all symptoms cease and desist? Oh yeah, the medical industry wants to make money.<br />
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To hell with that, on top of the tube-up-the-ass (I can hear my mother's voice in my head, "it's a <i>colonoscopy</i>, for Christ's sake!"), I'm supposed to take an enormous medical bill up the ass as well? Like I said before, it's exit-only, baby.<br />
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So on Monday (after a weekend of researching what it means to be gluten-free) I started the gluten-free diet. At first I thought it would be tricky. Actually it's pretty easy! On Monday I enjoyed grits with butter, milk, brown sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg for breakfast, complimented with a cup of coffee which contained my typical amount of milk. During the day I also ate a spring-mix salad with cheese sprinkles and a gluten-free dressing, corn tortilla chips with salsa and cheese, porkchops cooked in garlic and topped with sauteed mushrooms in a butter sauce, gluten-free greek yogurt, a banana, and salted peanuts. For dessert I was delighted to find out that my Breyer's All-Natural icecream was indeed gluten-free!<br />
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Yesterday was much the same, except we had baked chicken breast for dinner with parsley potatoes and mixed-veggie-broccoli for the sides.<br />
<br />
Hey, this isn't so tough at all!<br />
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As for my health, I am already beginning to see a change. As of yesterday afternoon all my stomach pain has dissipated. Also, I am back to one b.m. a day (better than the ten I suffered through on Saturday!). Ive also noticed that my arthritis flare-up has gone away and I am now only suffering a slight stiffness and soreness, rather than the category 5 hurricane of pain with which I typically try to cope.<br />
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The fatigue is still there, but I have noticed the vertigo is disappearing. My appetite is still voracious and I'm still pallid. I will have to ask the hubby about the irritability, as I know my own opinion is biased.<br />
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I am also going to start a vitamin regimen. Hey, it can't hurt (unless someone tries to shove them up my ass, which I would not recommend trying).<br />
<br />
So it's only day two but I am seeing results. It will be an interesting journey and I'm looking forward to seeing how much different I feel after a month of this. It definitely beats being anally violated, that's for certain!<br />
<br />
My only gripe: I am now required to avoid whiskey and beer. Dude, that is just <b><i>wrong</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">!</span></b><br />
<br />
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</div>Being Luminahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02973481399446475721noreply@blogger.com0