Puberty at 51

It is a source of continual amazement to me that people who voted for 45 – restricting human rights, killing the environment, degrading women – are shocked when I inform them we can no longer be friends. I’ve been told to ‘grow up’ and ‘get over it’, or better yet: ‘it’s just stupid politics and you’re far less of a person than I thought’.

Wow.

As a measure of my self restraint, I’ve said nothing in reply. Good on me.

Feels like I’ve taken the first step towards adulthood. Sticking to my ethics. Saying “no”. No more! I won’t take it.

And you’re fucking surprised.

Seems you didn’t know me at all.

Now I may have to deal with a troll on FB. My ex pen-pal, who voted for 45 and said ‘it wasn’t a big deal’ (among other language that PISSED ME OFF) sent three messages telling me to fuck off then three more emojis throughout the night to make sure I knew he wasn’t okay with any of it.

One more message from him and I’m reporting him. I DO not and WILL not take being fucked around with on a social network.

And what goes through people’s minds? That this kind of behavior will reflect any better on them? That I’ll change my mind and say ‘oh, sorry! you’re so upset; let me take it all back’? Um…nope. Should be a clue that it took me as long as it did to say what I said. Time = thought. I thought long and hard about it. Thought about my ethics and moral stance, thought about the friendship, forgiveness, taking the higher road – all of it.

So let me make this utterly clear one more time:

I am not some messiah, willing or able to turn the other cheek after you abuse me.

Expecting me to be is on YOUR head. Telling me I’m wrong for my feelings is on YOUR head.

I’m not wrong. Now let me throw back your own language at you.

Suck it up, snowflakes. You big fucking babies! Whine, whine, whine. Sorry you’re so fucking stupid you don’t realize that when you shout obscenities at me and my friends, when you take away our rights, or when you destroy the planet I react with anger. I think your ignorance is on your own head, too. Read a book!

Went to the gym yesterday to try and burn it out. Two hours. I was tired, less angry afterwards, but not completely calm (obviously).

Didn’t help that my language lesson lacked ANY sense of direction. First, we were asked to pull random words out of the fucking air and make sentences. Then we were told to use ‘omdat’ (because) and corrected on grammar without being told the grammatical rules. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be learning. Couldn’t take anything down because the instructors said the correct sentences once and then quickly moved on. I was bored, angry for having my time wasted, and frustrated because I now KNOW how much better a lesson can be.

Fucking hell!

Happy news: have all of next week off. Thursday is Hemelvaartsdag (Ascension Day), and Friday a lot of stuff is closed to ensure a long weekend. Perfect for me! An entire week free of classes or appointments. I can write. Get the radio script loaded into the software, make the formatting changes, send it out and move onto the next script. Already stepped out the scenes for the next one in my brain. I think I can do it with 4 actors and very minimal set dressing. Can’t wait to get started; it’s timely, creepy, and easy to do as a production.

…You know, if I keep coming up with these horror/Twilight Zone plays, I’m gonna get a reputation for being able to write them. Maybe I can; it IS what I’m coming up with. But I think it’s all a fluke. I’m just stumbling into them. Discovering them by accident. I’m not setting out to write them. Gotta admit, they’re fun to create. And maybe I should let go of any expectations I have of myself. If I turn into a female Clive Barker, well…that’s not all bad, is it?

Ha! Listen to me. Dodging the flack thrown at my head and accepting my limitations and abilities. Now, that IS really growing up!

Can a person hit puberty at 51?

 

I don’t suck dick

This is not where I expected myself to be at 5 something in the morning. Not today. But noise woke me up (lorries? a thunderstorm? someone half a mile away closing their garage door?) and suddenly I couldn’t sleep anymore because one thing was on my mind: I’ve got a 45 supporter as a friend on FB, and that needed to change and change right away.

My longterm online correspondence (10 years or more) has ended. I opted to keep it simple – I can’t be friends with someone who voted for 45. Farewell. That’s a kinder message than members of my family received. Unfriend.

I should really go through my FB ‘friends’ and unfriend them ALL unless I know for sure they didn’t vote for the orange orangutang. That’ll leave me with a handful of people. *sigh* Just too lazy to do it. I only post derogatory news items of The Orange One and occasionally cuss on FB. It’s un-cool as a social website. Sometimes I think about just deleting my account, but then I remember the South Park episode when Stan tried to do that.

I don’t want to get sucked into a lame 80s cyber world.

Second dental cleaning yesterday because it was three years since I had it done and there’s just a lot of work to be done. The new hygienist was brutal. Had me spitting blood.

My teeth look amazingly white, tho.

Reason to feel both jealous and hopeful: yesterday’s language lesson found me sitting in with another student and teacher because my usual teacher is off on holiday. And DAMN! I’d really like to permanently switch to this new instructor. She was probably a teacher in real life. First, we had reading to do. Then questions to answer. Then complicated words to pronounce. Then a spelling test. Then simple chatting over our opinions on the story. It was THE most thorough lesson I’ve ever had. I was corrected on pronunciation and syllable emphasis. English was readily swapped to when needed. My grammar was corrected, and sentences were spoken to me slowly, clearly, and repeated until I got every single word precisely. SO jealous I don’t have her as a regular instructor. Also hopeful that I can find a teacher out there who’ll really teach me rather than sit there half bored as I try to read aloud.

Went into overtime using my Dutch when a knock at the door revealed two workers from the local Buurtwerk (neighborhood work) group. They’re out covering their areas, checking in with residents and asking about the neighborhood. What’s good about living here? What’s not good about living here? I stumbled through with my pidgin Dutch. Sure, I made grammar mistakes. Sure, I inserted English when I didn’t know the Dutch. Point is, they understood me and I understood them. Progress!

Inclement weather. The skies are grey, the clouds low and threatening. Please send us a good, ripping thunderstorm! I love thunderstorms. The sheer power let loose strikes me dumb. I just stand in front of the window, looking. And I’m 14 years deprived of thunderstorms; Ireland didn’t have them. So gimme, gimme, gimme!

Preparing mentally to dive into editing mode with this new software. Almost there. I find editing like reading Dutch: I can do it any time, but how well I do it depends on my mental prep. When my head’s there, it goes super fast. When my head isn’t there I spend most of time going over three lines and not being able to get beyond them.

Naturally money is tight. Tighter than tight. Another big bill showed up. Apparently it was a February bill that someone forgot to send to us, and now they want their money. All my doctor’s visits hit at the same time, so that’ll cost us. And the exchange rate is for shit. Goddess! Whatever happened to the idea that the euro was created to be a one on one challenge to the dollar? Thanks, Nixon, for killing the gold standard and hanging all the world’s currencies on the mighty US dollar. Stupidest move ever. Now currency manipulators use their power to create false values to world currencies. Just another slave game by the 1%.

Caught myself last night thinking that there’s a whole part of life I never let myself experience. Family, home, kids, cars, job. That stray thought occurred to me during a car commercial. Not sure what it was about that ad that triggered me. But trigger me it did, and a flood of all I’ve missed came whooshing towards me followed by regret and fear. Was able to recognize I was chasing that ‘grass is greener on the other side’ idea; I was reacting to an idyllic scenario, not anything based in reality. Oh, wouldn’t it be great to be young and in love and have lots of money and be thin and beautiful all at the same time. Fuck yeah, it would! I always thought so. But should we really allow ourselves to lead around by this carrot on a stick that’s only ever available to a chosen few? Goddess! And I’ve heard some of these chosen few espouse the idea that this was their destiny, the almighty guided them to it, blah blah puke blah. Um…it was chance. Luck. Chaos. A roll of the dice.

Or the dick you sucked.

There’s one thing about me that’s always been true, and I guess my life reflects it.

I don’t suck dick.

Nothing to lose

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Don’t know how long all this exercise bullshit is supposed to take before I “feel better”. Yesterday I pushed so hard at swimming I came back home and passed out for an hour and a half nap. My body is tired. I’m not in panic mode, or crying mode…but I’m not happy, either. Isn’t it all ‘get out and exercise; you’ll feel better right away’? Those endorphins are firing, whether or not I’m feeling it.

Why ain’t I feelin’ it?

Got a message sitting in my FB inbox from an on-line acquaintance. Just can’t seem to answer it. While he didn’t own supporting 45, he did own the ‘anyone but Hillary’ attitude – well. I can put two and two together. It’s not that I don’t want to answer it; I do. I just can’t bring myself to write inanities over every day nonsense when I know in my heart the person I’m writing to is responsible (by at least one vote) for the man who’s putting his entire family in power, wasting millions on extra security, selling everyone’s private information, cutting millions off from health care, and drilling on public lands, into power. Well, you helped elect that pussy grabbing, lying, cheating, narcissistic mother fucker! Saying “I didn’t know what we were getting into” ranks right up there with “it was a sexual emergency” in a rape case for me. And while I’m tempted to needle away at that issue, citing my friends who are ill and losing health care, the land that’s polluted, the disparity in pay, the inequality in American society – the truth is, unless I’m out to fight the BIG fight, I don’t want to get into it. This ain’t a big fight; this is one person I met online many years ago who’s ignorant.

Yet I can’t help feeling that even that attitude is wrong: am I not discounting him, his intelligence (if any), his opinions by saying he’s not worth it?

Sure. It’s my coping mechanism. It’s also my fuck you to all of them; that’s essentially what you’ve said to me over the years; here it is right back at ya. Does that foster understanding? No. Is it ‘right’? No. So the message sits, until I cool down enough or grow up enough to deal with it without being an ass.

That could take a very long time, indeed.

Somedays I think it would be far easier to feel righteous if I didn’t have such strong morals. As it is, my moral compass just tends to muck things up for me. Lands me in the grey, every time. Have not yet learned to be true to myself while simultaneously being compassionate to others. I’m either true to myself and brutal in what I say, or I’m compassionate and stuffing something down.

Work on my new script is almost complete. Unless I find a major issue (and I don’t think I will), I’ll be able to send it out next week. My bro suggested sending to RA groups. He thinks they might want to do it as an ‘educational’ thing. Guess I will; what have I got to lose? As long as it’s by email, the answer is nothing.

I got nothing to lose.

 

This is me

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This picture is not me; it’s just really cool.

Two nights of uninterrupted sleep. I’m finally on the mend. Still spewing a rainbow of colors out of every orifice, but it’s less than it was. And I can stay awake for the entire day without a nap. Definite improvement.

Ran into a hiccup with immigration. They sent forms, we’re preparing answers. I don’t like that the process is held up, don’t like not having every t crossed or i dotted. Don’t like the fact my ID card is out of date, as is the stamp on my passport. Don’t like being told ‘relax, everything will be fine’ when it’s clearly not.

But I’m hanging on.

Tonight is the long awaited theatre group meeting. So, naturally, we’re inundated with rain. Wet, wet, wet – it’s been banging on the window since I went to bed. To add to my list of things I don’t like right now, I don’t like the idea of having to walk in this wet weather when I’m still not 100% healthy. I’m also in a bit of a dither over the meeting itself. What’s going to happen tonight? Will I get blown off? Again? My mind wants to take it to the extremes. Keep pulling myself back to the now, telling myself to allow things to happen rather than try to predict the future.

Heard from an online friend. We ‘met’ over ten years ago. Been correspondents ever since. He seems a decent enough guy. But it’s been since before the election that I heard from him. Wise man; he was anti-Hillary. Not that I was pro-Hillary; I wasn’t. I was (and am) anti-Trump. Still. He mentioned it, in passing – the whole election, the huge divide the country faces right now – and he said ‘I didn’t know what we were getting into’. Now how the hell am I supposed to say anything to that? Tough titties, dude? It’s one of those you made your bed now sleep in it times. Frankly I think anyone who didn’t work to stop that asshole deserves whatever the fuck they get. Unfortunately, all my friends who failed to stop 45 are also suffering, and that I don’t like to see.

Too bad the world won’t accept the idea of refugees out of America. They should; it’s far from free, and far from a pleasant place to live. But everyone buys the Friends myth: that yes, you can all live in a place like New York working on a barista’s salary. You can all have your hair done at expensive salons, wear the latest fashion, go out, buy things on minimum wage. Yeah (oh, and the apartments are big and rat and cockroach free). The same people also feel real bad about the gang on Gilligan’s Island. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of people out there like that. I’ve met people from around the world who absolutely 100% believe in the American dream – even when I, a native, born and bred, tell them what I’ve experienced. I understand how that happens. I had a very naive idea about what Middle Eastern countries were like, until I began to meet people who lived there. All I ever saw on the news was desert nations, desert cities. Dust. A scraggly tree standing somewhere, small and alone. I didn’t know about the forests, the mountains, the rivers and lakes. No one ever talked about them. No one ever showed them.

What we need right now (and feel free to take the idea and run with it) is a Video Free America. A place where ordinary people could post real videos of real places. Show the slums, the ghettos, the inner cities that look like they were hit by bombs. Show the abject poverty in the countryside. Tell your stories about not being able to afford health care, food, clothing. Talk about the long waits in government offices. Show the cost of food, the cost of things. Really and truly – not the Hollywood version. Because no one out here knows. No one out here can even begin to fathom how much you pay for anything. The only thing on par with costs in the US is rent. And even in that category, I’ve seen nothing in the EU that can touch the high rental costs of America. Not when hovels in the US cost so much, and equivalent rental costs on the continent give you a clean and safe living space. And let’s talk about public transport. I know there are trains in the Eastern US, even light rails in some cities. But can you hop on ANY public transport near your home and take it to the furthest reaches of your own country? I can. I can get to any place on the planet from where I live. Hop the metro, three stops to the train, two stops to Rotterdam Central, and from there the world is mine. Hell’s bells! Do you even HAVE public transport where you live?

…The core of me is so sick with the actions of the elite. Not just now, but always. Still reading Tolstoy, and a few chapters last night mentioned the annual income of some of the characters. Hundreds of thousands a year – and that’s during the 1800s. Imagine. I don’t care what currency you’re talking about; that’s a LOT of money. More than anyone needs. I’ve heard all the arguments: these elites are the patrons, the ones who paid the merchants and workers to make fine things, thus giving them an income and a ‘leg up’ in the world. That’s propaganda. It was the rich pissing on everyone’s heads back then, and it’s the rich pissing on everyone’s heads now.

Too political? Perhaps. It is my heritage.

The one thing I find is that the more I hear – excuses, lies, taunts – the more intransigent I become. It is not the higher path. I know that. But I will not climb back into my cave. I will not re-learn to fear what need not be feared. I will not re-learn to hate what need not be hated.

Been looking for the upside of 50+, and maybe this is it: the surety to stand by my convictions. The firm knowledge of what I’ll take and what I won’t take. There’s a quiet calmness that comes with it. Do what you will; my mind is already made up. And that part of me, that ‘last inch’ as the film V for Vendetta called it, you cannot touch.

This is me.

I’m a bit weird

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Today’s the day. Bye, bye Miss American Pie. The orange oompa-loompa is taking office, with a staggering 40% approval rate (40? Really? There’s that many rich white old men out there?).

Sometimes I wish more of that side read stuff, like blogs. It would be great to think I could present an argument that might flip their opinion. I know that’s unrealistic, though. Those kind of people are the men who choke you with their dick, forcing your head down on it time and again until you’re gagging from it, telling you all the time that ‘you want it, you dirty bitch’ and when they’re done they say it was ‘just a friendly exchange, what are you talking about?’.  That’s Trump supporters. And Trump himself.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I’ve caught a lot of flack from Americans. Americans who call me a traitor. These are the same Americans who told me ‘if you don’t like it, get out’. When I did, I was called traitor. I’m told I don’t know what I’m talking about. Told to keep my nose out of their business. Such hypocrisy!

Last night I saw The Daily Show, which has a day’s delay before it’s broadcast here. The guest was the outgoing UN ambassador. For the first time, I heard some of America’s rhetoric against Russia. The first time. Maybe Americans should rethink what they believe when it’s only THEIR news saying something is a “fact”. But then, we are talking Americans. Repeat the story enough, and they’ll believe it. Saddam had weapons of destruction. Remember that? Weapons of destruction. Didn’t exist. It was a LIE. Think about it!

Oh, and Richard Gere really DID shove that gerbil up his ass, too.

The United States is so eager to believe lies and liars. That, more than anything, depresses me. The sheer ignorance of the common people. My bro was in the military; he told me straight up: the US military keeps everything at a 5th grade level because THAT’S the true education level of the average American. Fifth grade. Not even fucking middle school! Fools and idiots. Throw into that a good deal of inbreeding (still legal in some states!) and you’ve got America. Well done, Founding Fathers! You bred a good race of slaves. Keep them poor, keep them ignorant. Rant about this and that, get them to vote for you, keep your money, screw them over – what does it matter? They’re just stupid people. They’ll fuck and make more than we can kill in one year, anyway.

Trump and his narcissism are just off the charts. I see he’s claiming to be a genius now. Yeah, he’s a genius alright. A genius at lying and backstabbing. A genius at using people and walking all over them. Oh, you’ve got a lovely four years ahead. So does the rest of the world. Trump farts, and stocks soar. What did I say about the stock market? That it was just one big casino, where no one really knows what’s going to win and what’s going to lose. I think the recent jumps and dives thanks to Twitter should back me up on that – if the stock market was based on anything real, it wouldn’t have that kind of volatility. Wait! Fifth grade level. If the stock market was based on anything real, it wouldn’t jump around so much based on what The Donald tweets. Better?

Goddamn it!

I’m upset – obviously. Anything connected with The Donald upsets me. It should upset anyone who thinks, but…. Right. Time to let it go for this morning.

Sorry; there’s just not enough marijuana in the world to make this okay.

Dutch today. Oh, turn my frustration into a reason to pay attention and learn this language! My head is more than rusty. I can barely reach coherency state. But hey! I learned a new word yesterday – vent, which means ‘guy’. Now that I know it, I see it everywhere. That’s cool. I still feel my vocab is lacking. And I’m still having a damned difficult time putting a sentence together correctly. Seems I always have something wrong. Ugh. Will I ever get it?

My friend, J, read thru the script. He calls it ‘relatable and accessible’. Gotta love J’s way with words. I say ‘it’s a silly little story that’s been done before’, and he says ‘relatable and accessible’. He’s so good. Anyway, I asked him for a paragraph synopsis. Simple and short. Now all I need is the local group to do a minimal read-through, and I’ll be ready to finish up what needs doing and send it out.

And I’ll probably borrow the ‘relatable and accessible’ in my write-up. Bless you, J!

I did not make it to the gym yesterday, and frankly, my thighs are thanking me. It was still damned painful (and difficult) standing and sitting. That cross trainer -! Didn’t know I could love and hate something so much at the same time. But I figure I’ll be frustrated after class today, no matter how zen I try to remain, so a good blow out at the gym is on the schedule. Hello, darling. Be gentle with me. Uh! Do it!

Okay. I’m a bit weird. Sometimes I have to note that, like it’s some excuse or something. Never mind me; I’m a bit weird. It usually comes up when I blurt something out that I’ve thought through for ages. Problem is, I don’t state out my line of reasoning, only the final punch line my silly brain comes up with. So it’s out of context and ‘weird’. Not really. Not if you were inside my brain, and heard everything that came before it. Then you’d get the joke. Instead, I say what I say and laugh, which looks more insane than anything else I could do. And I wind it all up with a ‘I’m a bit weird’.

Hm. I can see how that doesn’t work to my favor.

I’m a bit weird.

The Day The Music Died

I woke up yesterday with no anger and no headache. Should have been the warning sign I was looking for: obviously my body was tuned into something my mind wasn’t. All I have left is sorrow and emptiness.

As the saying goes, grab your ankles and kiss your ass good-bye. This is officially the beginning of the end.

I have begun the long task of culling through everyone I’m connected with on FB. Un-friending all the orange people (NOT the Dutch). First on my list was my eldest brother and his wife. My eldest brother, direct descendant (as am I) of a leading American socialist from the early 1900s. My eldest brother, who commented that ‘socialism is the politics of babies’.

I will never speak to him again.

I will never, in fact, use English on FB again. Only Dutch. Don’t care that I’ll have very little to say or that I might get it wrong. I’m not using English. And I refuse to switch to English out in the real world no matter how confused I get. I will NOT use the language of that manipulative narcissist. I want out. I want to burn my passport. I want to deny where I was born. I want to deny my entire family other than the bro I live with.

Even this blog, someday, will switch to all Dutch. For now, though, I don’t have enough of the language to explain myself clearly – which was the bleeding purpose of this blog in the first place. So for me, for my head, this will continue in English as long as I need it to. But communication with the larger world…that’s gonna be Dutch. Suck it if you don’t like it.

America has been ripe for a revolution for a long time. I really hope you guys get up and do something this time. I doubt it. I doubt your will. I doubt your resolve. I doubt everything about you because you’re American. And that’s racist. Well, you’re a racist nation. How’s it feel to know people hate you simple because of where you were born?

And I know. I know how it’ll go down. Already I’m reading the ‘it won’t really be that bad’ stuff. Get a grip. The Republicans have control of congress. Trump has a blank check to do anything he wants – grab pussy, imprison blacks, build the pipeline across sacred land, deport Muslims. Retrospectively, Hitler is gonna seem like a pussycat next to Trump. And this is just the beginning. Watch how right wing politicians sneak into office all over the world. Watch how persecution becomes common place. Watch your rights go up in smoke.

Watch the end of the world.

I always knew I’d witness it. The next, and possibly last, great war. Here it comes. Just one more tiny bubble to burst and the whole thing collapses. That should happen soon. It’ll hinge on currency markets. Wait for the drop.

So I’m smoking because why give it up if this is the end? It doesn’t matter. At least I’ll be high.

And fuck, do I need it!

I know some people might read this and shake their head. Think I’m some doomsayer. Good luck with that whole denial thing. Seems to be working for you so far. That is, after all, what got you to where you are today – about to crown the future emperor. He will sell you down the river. Trump is an 80s guy, and 80s guys only know how to make money one way: by destroying. The all important caveat is ‘anything for a buck’ (which could explain Trump’s abuse of women; he might have thought it was ‘anything for a fuck’).

Let me explain a basic economic FACT to you: for one person to have something, another must go without. Economists like to talk theory – theory – about unlimited supply. In other words, there’s always enough of whatever you need or want. That is not a true model for this world. In this world, everything is limited. Land space for homes, agricultural land for food, oil for energy, money to live. Therefore, for one to have a lot means many others go without. Trump is (reportedly, I don’t think he ever did release his tax forms like he said he would) rich. Therefore he cheated, lied, and stole that money away from others. I’m sure he did it to within the letter of the law (mostly). That’s your problem. The basic wrench in your system. You allow this behavior because you still hold out the hope that someday, somehow, you’ll be the rich one enjoying walking over everyone’s back. Oh, you tell yourself you’d be nice. Give the money away. Share it with friends and family. But chances are high once you had that money you’d want to hang onto it. That’s what typically happens. And those people with the real money, like Trump, they tell you it’s possible to make that leap from living paycheck to paycheck to uber rich. They even dubbed it ‘the American dream’ like it was their idea. But it’s not possible. Not unless you prove yourself to be as ruthless and amoral as they are. Hell, I don’t think they’d let you into the club (or even let you know where the club IS) unless you could claim to have ruined over 10,000 lives.

Let me ask you: how many workers have to go without health care for stock owners to get one more dollar in their dividend checks? That’s not a joke, nor do I have the answer. Just something for you to ponder.

I know the above is an old song. Showing my age again. But I can’t get the refrain out of my head. It is, after all, about a world gone wrong.

And it does feel like the day the music died.

Small flies of annoyance

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About 5 in the evening yesterday my ‘not as tough as the swimming pool’ workout put me down. It was like a creeper bud: took a long time after the initial incident before I felt what I put my body through. By 9 I said goodnight, brushed my teeth, and don’t even remember falling asleep because it happened so damned fast.

I did get out for errands in the afternoon, too. Down to the market to buy stuff for dinner, back up to make the sauce. Down to the next shopping area over to buy some coffee on safe, lug it back to the apartment. Didn’t do the stairs – at all. I was concerned I may have injured my knee with some of the movements in the gym; it was a bit painful (just exercise; better today). Even stuck to my commitment and did my language lessons.

Saw only 4 stubs in the ashtrays this morning. No wonder I feel a little headachy.

My FB comment has, of course, drawn comments. Most people who know me know it’s one of those small explosions I do once in a while. That burst of anger that comes out fast and is, to the unobservant, uncalled for. My uncle has questioned me on it – again, of course. I’m trying to think of something that is (1) clear, (2) calm, and (3) unquestionable as a reply. Frankly, if you have to question why a woman fears Trump getting into office, well, I think your IQ must be somewhere around 80 then, right? And I’m gonna be completely un-PC right now: if you support Trump, you can’t call yourself a woman. You may have a vagina, but you’re not a woman. You’re a dude. Not even a guy, but a dude. No sane woman would stand up and say ‘Yes! Yes, please pay me less than a man even though I have the same qualifications. Please grab my pussy; it makes me excited. Please call me a dog and a whore – I like it and I call women dogs and whores myself. And of course if a woman claims she’s been sexually assaulted she’s a liar and to blame for the whole incident herself.’ No. You’re insane. Certifiable. Go seek help. And stay the fuck away from me.

And speaking of un-PC, I’m gonna share another very un-PC thought. I’m damned angry over people like Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner. I don’t care if they want to fork out money to have their dicks cut off. What I’m angry about is that they support gender bias through they’re “portrayal” of womanhood – primped, pushed up, and padded. I mean, if one of them – ONE OF THEM – when through the surgery and became anything close to a real woman – meaning no make-up, no push-ups, no this or that because that shit is fucking EXHAUSTING, just be a PERSON – I wouldn’t be on a tirade. But they don’t. Look at what society thinks a woman is: she must wear a dress, she must wear make-up, she must wear high heels, she must show cleavage, she must try to look sexy at all costs. Excuse me, but that shit’s got NOTHING to do with being a woman. That narrowed, bigoted, biased view – that stereotype – is proven out every time someone goes through sex identity surgery and comes out looking like a magazine cover.

How fucking dare you!

Goddamn it.

Am I the only one seeing this shit?

Society’s fucked, the planet is fucked, and none of us have to worry about going to hell because we’re already there. Give me one good reason – a good one, mind you – for any of these lines we’re drawing in the sand. Because I sure as fuck can’t figure one out.

So glad I’m going in the water today. Might sit on the bottom of the pool, holding my breath. Think for a moment or two about breathing in liquid because why, why, why go on when there’s so much shit piled up?

Goddess, I hate my family. Hate them to the core of me. Hate them beyond redemption. No wonder I have such a screwed up idea about “love”. I was made to say that word to all these people I can’t stand. I love you. Every holiday. Didn’t matter what they did or said; I had to always say that.

I can’t love someone who tells me in no uncertain terms that they think I’m less than. Put whatever you want in that comparison; I’ve heard them all. And I’ve always come out wanting in the judgmental eyes of my family.

Ach! Shoulda just stayed off Fuckbook. Shoulda just kept quiet – again. Shoulda, shoulda, shoulda.

In this maelstrom, I’ve been trying to breathe. Find that calm spot. You might have noticed I’ve got a bit of anger coming up. I’ve noticed that, too. And yes, I’m doing my damnedest to not bite everyone’s head off but it’s getting fucking difficult. Real difficult.

I guess this is the wall. There’s always a wall. In everything. A time when everything feels too much. A time when you so desperately want to give in. The wall. Christ, I’m fucking tired of facing these.

Didn’t take long to hit it, did it?

…No. No, it didn’t.

Right. Temporary set-backs. Small flies of annoyance. Things trying to distract me. Ohm. I don’t have to respond. Ohm. I have the luxury of staying off social media and not opening my email. Ohm. No one is gonna force me to talk to anyone I don’t want to. Ohm.

And as for small flies of annoyance, I need to remember this: flies are born in shit. They live one fucking day and then they die and return to shit.

Ohm.