Ok, so I'm eating at a debate tournament and one of our volunteer coaches makes a disparaging comment about Kentucky and says that its part of the South. I mention to him that its not, because Kentucky never joined the confederacy. Little did I know that this would start a firestorm.
So they go on about how we're still fighting the Civil War and shit and I just go off. Look, I know that the war is over, that we lost. All that. I get it. But what you don't get is that this motherfucker was in our back yards, all you got was a nice memorial in Gettysburg but I can literally walk 5 miles from my house and pull shot out of buildings that were placed there by this war we're supposedly still fighting.
Futhermore, you Northern motherfuckers are still getting off the boat! I can't throw a stone without hitting some fake ass Irish pissant who claims to be of the 33rd county of Ireland. A big middle finger to all of you! Same with the Italians here, and the Germans! You guys are all obsessed with your belief that you're still part of the Old World. Guess what, that's your heritage and the Civil War is mine. We had people die here, we had people fight here. You did not. Regardless the merits of the war, regardless the right or wrong of the war, they died. They died in my back yard. I had 22 men in my family (and that's just my dad's side) fight in this war. Did they believe in slavery? I don't know. But they died. And for you to be flippant little pissants about that, well, Fuck you.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Say Uncle
My Mom's birthday is coming up this week. And for some reason that makes me think of her brother. Not sure why, but it does. Now her brother, my uncle, is a man that I never met but am always (secretly) compared to by my family. He never gets mentioned by the family, but I embody all his promises and am sort of the new 'him.' It just so happens that he's dead.
The story of DL was told to me by my father. Yes, the father that I don't speak to anymore. He told me because no one in my family ever will. The wounds, even after 23 years (which is when my Dad actually told me) had not quite healed and never will. Sure, they told me that he had been murdered, and gave me thumbnail sketches of who he was and that I acted just like him (and judging from the pictures, we struck a fair resemblance) but that was about it. I think it was fitting that I heard about DL through my father, who was his friend and (if I remember correctly) was partially to blame for setting up my Dad and Mom. Odd.
So apparently DL was this amazing fellow who had a heart of gold but an amazing wild streak--his CB radio handle wasn't "Bushman" for nothing--and knew how to have fun and drive women crazy. He also would give you the shirt off his back (and apparently did--literally--to my father from time to time. They were drinking buddies and things got out of hand occasionally). DL apparently had horrible taste in women. There is no truth to rumor that he fancied Redheads but I think we were kindred spirits.
So DL was about 20 years old, 2 years older than my Mom by the way, and while he loved having fun and doing his own thing he finally decided to settle down with one woman. To this day no one has told me her name, and that's probably a good thing, but I believe that they were married. Anyways, they were living together.
Now DL and this woman apparently loved each other but also could never go 15 minutes without arguing over something. And often it got out of hand. In a shouting way. My Dad claimed that DL never laid a hand on her and it was not in his nature to hit women anyways. But they would argue and shout and fuss and cuss. But one night, things got ugly. During one of their arguments DL's wife slit his throat with a Kitchen knife, hitting the jugular. DL tried to run out of the house but made it to the driveway before collapsing. Because they fought and because they were alone she claimed self-defense and was never tried. Obviously, my family never believed her.
The fallout to this was huge. My grandfather, having just lost his only son, vowed to never lose his daughter and thus threw an iron curtain around my Mom. This led my Dad to give her an ultimatum: marry me now or leave me. After she graduated high school they go married. The two never were a perfect match and eventually divorced when I was in 3rd or 4th grade.
Beyond this, I was positioned to fill DL's shoes. Now, no one on my Mom's side has come out and said this, and how could they really, but my Dad believes it so and so do I. I slept in the same room he did when he grew up (my Mom lives in the same house she in which grew up, my grandparents rarely would go into my room btw), I was always cherished and loved a bit more, and always had a few more expectations to go with it. I also think thats why my Mom and I have such a great relationship too. She loves me for me, but I also think she sees a bit of her brother inside of me too.
My sister has never connected these dots and I doubt she ever would, she's not one for intuition, logic or figuring things out. But I often wonder what our lives would have been like if it were not for that night; if I had an uncle, would I be me? Probably not. How does this change my relationship with my sister? Should it even change anything with her? I dislike her to no end, so I don't know! But often go back to thinking of my Mom, I think about this life that she and my grandparents had long before I was born. A life with a brother and son.
The story of DL was told to me by my father. Yes, the father that I don't speak to anymore. He told me because no one in my family ever will. The wounds, even after 23 years (which is when my Dad actually told me) had not quite healed and never will. Sure, they told me that he had been murdered, and gave me thumbnail sketches of who he was and that I acted just like him (and judging from the pictures, we struck a fair resemblance) but that was about it. I think it was fitting that I heard about DL through my father, who was his friend and (if I remember correctly) was partially to blame for setting up my Dad and Mom. Odd.
So apparently DL was this amazing fellow who had a heart of gold but an amazing wild streak--his CB radio handle wasn't "Bushman" for nothing--and knew how to have fun and drive women crazy. He also would give you the shirt off his back (and apparently did--literally--to my father from time to time. They were drinking buddies and things got out of hand occasionally). DL apparently had horrible taste in women. There is no truth to rumor that he fancied Redheads but I think we were kindred spirits.
So DL was about 20 years old, 2 years older than my Mom by the way, and while he loved having fun and doing his own thing he finally decided to settle down with one woman. To this day no one has told me her name, and that's probably a good thing, but I believe that they were married. Anyways, they were living together.
Now DL and this woman apparently loved each other but also could never go 15 minutes without arguing over something. And often it got out of hand. In a shouting way. My Dad claimed that DL never laid a hand on her and it was not in his nature to hit women anyways. But they would argue and shout and fuss and cuss. But one night, things got ugly. During one of their arguments DL's wife slit his throat with a Kitchen knife, hitting the jugular. DL tried to run out of the house but made it to the driveway before collapsing. Because they fought and because they were alone she claimed self-defense and was never tried. Obviously, my family never believed her.
The fallout to this was huge. My grandfather, having just lost his only son, vowed to never lose his daughter and thus threw an iron curtain around my Mom. This led my Dad to give her an ultimatum: marry me now or leave me. After she graduated high school they go married. The two never were a perfect match and eventually divorced when I was in 3rd or 4th grade.
Beyond this, I was positioned to fill DL's shoes. Now, no one on my Mom's side has come out and said this, and how could they really, but my Dad believes it so and so do I. I slept in the same room he did when he grew up (my Mom lives in the same house she in which grew up, my grandparents rarely would go into my room btw), I was always cherished and loved a bit more, and always had a few more expectations to go with it. I also think thats why my Mom and I have such a great relationship too. She loves me for me, but I also think she sees a bit of her brother inside of me too.
My sister has never connected these dots and I doubt she ever would, she's not one for intuition, logic or figuring things out. But I often wonder what our lives would have been like if it were not for that night; if I had an uncle, would I be me? Probably not. How does this change my relationship with my sister? Should it even change anything with her? I dislike her to no end, so I don't know! But often go back to thinking of my Mom, I think about this life that she and my grandparents had long before I was born. A life with a brother and son.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Are there God? Its me Martha.
Prayer is a muthafucka.
You see, the thing people don't understand about prayer is you are asking ASKING, its not a damn wish list or anything. Even the English word backs me up on this. Congratulations, Blogger Guy, you just used Funk & Wagnalls to win an argument.
But seriously. What is prayer. I don't really know. But to me, prayer is the humble submission of my will for a greater Will. Its asking for something to be done, but by asking you release your control over the situation. See, we Christians get it wrong. We make God into this big fucking Santa Clause that delivers in 30 minutes or less. Its more than that. People don't understand the power of asking. When you pray you submit to your will for a greater Will. Follow me here.
You see, people often say "I want X, but your will be done God" and then when it doesn't happen they get all riled up and say that their faith let them down. Or even worse they get all uppity about The God That Failed. That's not it man, you just don't understand. See, prayer has more in common with Zen than it does with wishing. Prayer is about realizing that you have very little control in the world and when you ask God for something you are acknowledging that you cannot do it on your own. Your fiat is comprised of limitations, my friend. Prayer is about realizing that some things happen and some things don't. Its ok to want a specific thing to happen, but its better to realize that it MAY NOT happen. Prayer has an inverse effect in this way, by realizing that it may not happen you free yourself from the burden of trying to force something that cannot be. Prayer is about freedom, not taking on new things or getting things to happen. Its about understanding your role in the universe, hoping that certain things will happen, and if they do then acknowledging the very little role you had in producing them. And if they don't happen, acknowledging the very little role you had in producing them. Prayer is a submission of your will to a higher Will.
At the moment I am praying harder than I ever have. I am fasting from 11 am to 4 pm every day. It may not sound as bad--lots of people skip lunch--but no snacking and no weekend food is difficult. I've been doing it since Dec. 4th when I knew that shit was messing up w/ The Girl. Thats nearly 90 Days. I'm dying here. I've lost so much weight (I'm nearly 139lbs) and I've no energy. On top of that I pray the rosary 2 times a day, a St. Jude Novena daily, and other random things from time to time. I don't disclose to brag, in fact most of the ppl who read this prolly are feeling the opposite of impressed, but to show that at the moment, I'm doing all that I can to fuckin' submit right now. My entire life is out of my hands, and that worries me. I just want it to be the right hands.
But you see, through prayer I feel like I have reached this place where I know what I can and cannot do. I cannot make my world what I wish it to be. But perhaps my wish isn't what is best for me. Prayer is a submission of your will to a higher Will.
And that, my friends, is a muthafucka.
You see, the thing people don't understand about prayer is you are asking ASKING, its not a damn wish list or anything. Even the English word backs me up on this. Congratulations, Blogger Guy, you just used Funk & Wagnalls to win an argument.
But seriously. What is prayer. I don't really know. But to me, prayer is the humble submission of my will for a greater Will. Its asking for something to be done, but by asking you release your control over the situation. See, we Christians get it wrong. We make God into this big fucking Santa Clause that delivers in 30 minutes or less. Its more than that. People don't understand the power of asking. When you pray you submit to your will for a greater Will. Follow me here.
You see, people often say "I want X, but your will be done God" and then when it doesn't happen they get all riled up and say that their faith let them down. Or even worse they get all uppity about The God That Failed. That's not it man, you just don't understand. See, prayer has more in common with Zen than it does with wishing. Prayer is about realizing that you have very little control in the world and when you ask God for something you are acknowledging that you cannot do it on your own. Your fiat is comprised of limitations, my friend. Prayer is about realizing that some things happen and some things don't. Its ok to want a specific thing to happen, but its better to realize that it MAY NOT happen. Prayer has an inverse effect in this way, by realizing that it may not happen you free yourself from the burden of trying to force something that cannot be. Prayer is about freedom, not taking on new things or getting things to happen. Its about understanding your role in the universe, hoping that certain things will happen, and if they do then acknowledging the very little role you had in producing them. And if they don't happen, acknowledging the very little role you had in producing them. Prayer is a submission of your will to a higher Will.
At the moment I am praying harder than I ever have. I am fasting from 11 am to 4 pm every day. It may not sound as bad--lots of people skip lunch--but no snacking and no weekend food is difficult. I've been doing it since Dec. 4th when I knew that shit was messing up w/ The Girl. Thats nearly 90 Days. I'm dying here. I've lost so much weight (I'm nearly 139lbs) and I've no energy. On top of that I pray the rosary 2 times a day, a St. Jude Novena daily, and other random things from time to time. I don't disclose to brag, in fact most of the ppl who read this prolly are feeling the opposite of impressed, but to show that at the moment, I'm doing all that I can to fuckin' submit right now. My entire life is out of my hands, and that worries me. I just want it to be the right hands.
But you see, through prayer I feel like I have reached this place where I know what I can and cannot do. I cannot make my world what I wish it to be. But perhaps my wish isn't what is best for me. Prayer is a submission of your will to a higher Will.
And that, my friends, is a muthafucka.
Absent information...
The mind is an echo chamber. That's why its good to get outside opinions. You let a few stray thoughts ruminate too long inside your head and you're done for. The voices catch up to you, everything's a conspiracy, faces become ugly when you are alone, women seem wicked when you are unwanted, streets are uneven when you are down ...Or something like that.
The truth of the matter is that from time to time our minds are our own worst enemy. Take, for example, me! I'm over think everything to the point of paralysis. Now, my ability to think through things is my greatest asset: I can see the whole problem and often can craft a great solution. The problem is that sometimes I'm allowed to ruminate on a problem far too long, it becomes too personal, I can't separate facts from opinions, and shit happens. I think this happens to all of us, but I'd rather pick on me than you. So lets consider me.
Absent information, I supply my own. That's the worst. I have no clue what The Girl thinks of our situation and so I supply my own narrative instead of just relaxing and letting it be. You see, she didn't exactly come out and tell me she is coming. She told me as she was telling Jimmy (see Last Night... post). Obviously, she wanted me to know (otherwise she wouldn't have used my blackberry as her medium) but in my mind this causes 3 scenarios:
1, She wanted to kill two birds with one stone and told me while talking to Jimmy. Its texting after all. Not fucking Shakespeare. Don't read too much into it. Dick.
2, She knew I would find out sooner or later and thought that through Jimmy she could 'tell' me without telling me, thus diffusing a situation where she has to say "but I'm not spending time with you while I'm here, I'll be busy." AKA, I'm coming to see other people, and you're gonna turn it into something its not. Fuck off.
3, She wanted to tell me but Jimmy was there and the moment seemed inevitable. In this scenario, she wanted it to be a quasi-surprise but since Jimmy brought up her coming to Philly she felt like "well, the cat is out of the bag" and just went with it. I'm coming to see other people, but all I really wanna see is you.
And from these scenarios you have sub-scenarios, or offshoots. I could show you a flow chart of 'if-thens' but you'd probably shoot me. Or just quit reading. You made it this far, right? Good.
The problem with thinking through this stuff like so is that I'm assigning to her assumptions that I don't even know are remotely true. It could be none of the above or a bit of all three. I have no clue what she thinks and I can't ask her without causing a house of cards to fall and getting stonewalled. She's a cake in the oven: too much movement and it'll fold. I hope she's a triple chocolate cake. That'd be lovely.
We do this, and we're horrible at it. We don't just over think things, we supply our own information when there is none through faulty assumptions! I need to stop. I need to get out of the echo chamber. I need to fuckin' zen.
Yeah, I just verbed that shit. And you should too.
The truth of the matter is that from time to time our minds are our own worst enemy. Take, for example, me! I'm over think everything to the point of paralysis. Now, my ability to think through things is my greatest asset: I can see the whole problem and often can craft a great solution. The problem is that sometimes I'm allowed to ruminate on a problem far too long, it becomes too personal, I can't separate facts from opinions, and shit happens. I think this happens to all of us, but I'd rather pick on me than you. So lets consider me.
Absent information, I supply my own. That's the worst. I have no clue what The Girl thinks of our situation and so I supply my own narrative instead of just relaxing and letting it be. You see, she didn't exactly come out and tell me she is coming. She told me as she was telling Jimmy (see Last Night... post). Obviously, she wanted me to know (otherwise she wouldn't have used my blackberry as her medium) but in my mind this causes 3 scenarios:
1, She wanted to kill two birds with one stone and told me while talking to Jimmy. Its texting after all. Not fucking Shakespeare. Don't read too much into it. Dick.
2, She knew I would find out sooner or later and thought that through Jimmy she could 'tell' me without telling me, thus diffusing a situation where she has to say "but I'm not spending time with you while I'm here, I'll be busy." AKA, I'm coming to see other people, and you're gonna turn it into something its not. Fuck off.
3, She wanted to tell me but Jimmy was there and the moment seemed inevitable. In this scenario, she wanted it to be a quasi-surprise but since Jimmy brought up her coming to Philly she felt like "well, the cat is out of the bag" and just went with it. I'm coming to see other people, but all I really wanna see is you.
And from these scenarios you have sub-scenarios, or offshoots. I could show you a flow chart of 'if-thens' but you'd probably shoot me. Or just quit reading. You made it this far, right? Good.
The problem with thinking through this stuff like so is that I'm assigning to her assumptions that I don't even know are remotely true. It could be none of the above or a bit of all three. I have no clue what she thinks and I can't ask her without causing a house of cards to fall and getting stonewalled. She's a cake in the oven: too much movement and it'll fold. I hope she's a triple chocolate cake. That'd be lovely.
We do this, and we're horrible at it. We don't just over think things, we supply our own information when there is none through faulty assumptions! I need to stop. I need to get out of the echo chamber. I need to fuckin' zen.
Yeah, I just verbed that shit. And you should too.
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