my first screenshot

(awww. get it in now, y'all. you won't be saying that inna minute)

Also, trigger warning.

This was on my friend's wall. It's a link to a local story of an East Indian woman who was carjacked at 5:45am at our local grocery store, taken to another location, raped, and then driven back. The article mentioned that the woman didn't speak English, and the man who kidnapped and raped her didn't speak Punjabi.

Submitted to STFU Conservatives:

Forgive the crazy ass penmanship.

But seriously, the fuck?

Why I am not Republican

(Reason #1938743)

Texas immigration bill has big exception--CNN.com

"Those who hire unauthorized immigrants would be in violation of the law -- unless they are hiring a maid, a lawn caretaker or another houseworker."

BUT IT'S ALL ABOUT CUTTING SPENDING, Y'ALL. And national security!

Such bullshit!

I suppose illegal immigrants are totally okay as long as they're serving Americans? the white man? Indentured servants, slaves, doesn't matter. It's abhorrent.

The fact that these brainless, self-righteous dickheads were voted into office at all makes me weep for society. Which is funny, because I've some neo-con friends who would agree, but on a different premise. "O my gawd they want to take away my guns!"

These people should not be voted in. Period.



*Yes, I understand the bill can't possibly pass--at least, I hope to god not. The article states that the bill could undergo some "modifications." I also understand that this, like others, could be simply symbolic--lookit us, being all patriotic. I further understand that not all Republicans/conservatives are on board with this crap. But that doesn't change anything. It, like so many other bills I've heard introduced as of late, are far scarier than anything Glenn Beck could make up.

Bad cop

Question. Bear with me, please.

It's argued that bitching loud and proud about how awful and manipulative and irritating the church is is the only way to break free of it. Taking off those chains isn't easy. It's a loud process. They push back so hard on your efforts to just be.

Then again, it could also be argued that doing so is, in fact, allowing the church to have some control over you still. They're in your head, you're playing into their hands re: what apostates do, etc.

I know what many, if not all of you, will say. But let's play around with that second idea. I think about it sometimes, wonder if ignoring it--if simply living my life without the church--is the best way to break free of it. Is it the most active, persuasive way to make it disappear? I see other people living this way, and they just seem so much happier and, y'know, freer. It doesn't touch them anymore.

Is it simply the process or is it more an individual thing?

I can't help but feel I'm allowing them to have power over me still. I'm wasting precious life allowing them to eat me from the insides. But it's easier to do that. It's much scarier to find and live a life you don't have.

Thoughts? I think both arguments have incredible merit.

Regret

I am not happy with my life*

Shocker, I know. I also realize I'm hardly alone. (i'm so tired of feeling as if i need to defend myself. i've all these voices in my head--conservative voices i grew up with. ones that say "oh get over it. do you know how blessed you are? do you know how much worse you could have it? suck it up, stupid. you're fine")

I wouldn't count myself as miserable, but the regret! oh god, the regret. So heavy.

I'd do so much over again. So much.

People tell me that I'm fixing things now, and I am. I get that. Yay for me! I know. I know.

Please stop saying those things. Just stop. The last time I heard "good for you!" in response to hearing that I'm back in school needs to be the last. It bothers me. The sentiment, the meaning behind "She's going back to school" and the meaning behind the response just makes my skin crawl.

Good for me, good for me. Yes. Good for me. I fucked up and I'm fixing it. I'm the old lady in the classroom going back to school. It's awful. Do you know how awful it is? I have a love-hate relationship with it. I look at all these kids--kids who were 8-10 years old when I graduated high school, omg--and look at all the extra-curricular shit going on and I just want it all back so, so bad. It's becoming tangibly pathetic, if it hasn't become that already.

I'm not depressed at the moment but these thoughts are patently depressing. I want to cry. I have lost ten years of my life.

But it's amazing to be there. Just amazing. And I so much appreciate the fact that I can even go back. It's become a process of resurrection.

I should leave it at that, no?

It's just in my face, three days a week. I think I'm fine. I can't look that old, after all. I've still got 6 months before I'm 30.

And then the perfectly nice girl who sits next to me makes some comment related to my age.


DILF and I talk about our regrets semi-regularly. They're similar. He speaks of how he wishes he could've grown up with different teachings about life, and he speaks of how he'd ditch the mission. It pissed him off to be two years behind like I am pissed at my ten (well, eight I guess). I talk about what I wish I would've done, even though knowing myself back then and my situation--I may not have. Notwithstanding that, I wish I wish I wish. How I'd do things differently.

And when we talk about these things, we recognize to each other how doing things differently would probably mean we never would've met. But we're okay with this. Is that messed up? We love each other. There are few people in this world, if any at all, who can and will put up with my bullshit and still treat me like gold. Would I be willing to give that up? Yes. I suppose I would be.

He'd be willing too, and that doesn't bother me.

In a perfect world, we'd still have met. We wouldn't have been LDS. We would've just did our thing, encouraged and supported each other until getting married was reasonable. We would've started our careers, built a financial and emotional and whatever base and then had kids. Fuck this shit about getting married ASAP and having kids even quicker despite no job and no money. Fuck it.

School makes me happy. My anxieties blow away there. I feel smart for the first time in years there. I feel respected. I feel like an adult. 

(Newsflash: getting married and having kids does not an adult make)

I might have to take all online classes next semester (logistics--better now than later, won't explain), and I'm just...disappointed. I'm terrified. Funny, given how terrified I was right before school started. Enough to make me sick, sick, sick.

I think being somewhere with people and doing things where I'm away from the dirty dishes, laundry, kids, the midday silence that breeds depressing thoughts--I think it's taking away my anxiety, and I'm hoping now that it'll cure me a bit. I'm not happy here. I know that even more now.

I know these thoughts are hardly constructive, and I'd love nothing more than to just move on. But while I'm learning to be kinder to myself, in this arena I am stubborn. I keep kicking the dead horse. It's just part of my obsessive tendencies we all love so much! I hope it blows over soon. We don't deserve this.



* I know, blasphemy! I'm out of the church, I should be on Cloud-Fucking-Nine. But remember, just as those who are in the church are not by default always happy, those who leave are not always happy. Life, it's crazy that way.

Also, just to clarify: These days I'm mostly happy, but I'm overwhelmed by this one thing right now. So I'm talking about it.

Mormon Housewife Blogs

Why I can't stop reading Mormon housewife blogs--Salon.com

I ran into this article today and at first glance I was willing to be happy about non-mormons finding something good in these blogs--why the hell not, right? let's see the good in all things, or at least most. It's something I've thought a lot about lately, and perhaps I'll post more on later.

But then I started thinking about it more: this is just more fodder for the LDS PR department, more reason for many LDS girls and women to feel less-than. I remember trying to reach this ideal, to be these girls. I was not able to. I am not that girl. It doesn't mean I hate life (indeed i did in the church many times when i failed) or marriage, or that I don't see the good in small things, but not reaching the ideal espoused by so many--including general leaders--only sends one message "you are not good enough."

Yay for The Simple Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Now, if this is who these girls are, I don't want to take that away from them. In many ways I wish I could be more like them, but that isn't the lesson I should absorb. I should be learning to embrace who I am.

Unfortunately, this is not what is or has been taught. Not in my experience. In my experience, the church and even much of our conservative society do not teach this. They teach perfection without acknowledging the tragedies that come in seeking it. Apparently the cost is worth the benefit.

So we allow others to tell us this is what is normal and that normal = happy. And we're enamored with normal because we don't feel normal. Anything to feel normal. Anything to feel not alone. And we sacrifice far too many people in the process. Many people have analyzed our fascination with the 50s and its nuclear family, and it's all worth reading. I won't go on about it, but we can and should be happy now. It's not about aprons and cupcakes and themed birthday parties and high-end jobs and perfect hairstyles and brand name clothes. I can understand the appeal in that, but that isn't what happiness is. Depending on the package, it's just more propaganda.

Again, if this is who these girls are, more power to them. If my son is what you might call a stereotypical boy, I will not take that away from him. If my daughter wants to wear frilly dresses and play with barbies, etc--awesome. As long as they don't criticise others or make them feel less if others are not who they are.

And that's why I can't stand these sorts of articles, even though I do believe in seeing the good in all, why I believe in seeing the good in that which we often demonize. BUT this isn't about the individual bloggers anymore but the faith they connect themselves to. In the church there is no individual. There is no separation, and non- or never-members can't understand this. When you speak of a person and connect them to the church in a positive light, the church will use it. There is no more individual after that. Just a puppet.

I have a really hard time welcoming anything that brings that.

And so this is no longer about charming, traditional, happy mommy bloggers. It's the Mormon we see, the Mormon we focus on, and the Mormon we are fed. And anyone who is not feels they are not, and because of this they will never really be happy either. Not as long as they buy into it. Me included.

Ignorance

I'm still sick. Pretty sick.

Pret-tay, pret-tay, pretty sick.

Anyways, I ran into this the other day:

NPR: New Edition of 'Huckleberry Finn' will Eliminate Offensive Words

Yes, please. Let's breed some MORE fucking ignorance, shall we? This coming from the people who call liberals too concerned with being politically correct. This likely coming from the same people who would rather teach our kids abstinence way before methods of safe(r) sex. This is unbelievably condescending.

Ignorance is bliss. Except it's not.

Patriarchal Blessings

So glad I'm not alone.

Then again, had I KNOWN I wasn't alone at the time, I might've gotten the fuck out a lot sooner. Then again, I wouldn't have met Eric.

I swear, it's all sorts of fucked up.

For those who may not know what a patriarchal blessing is, in each stake there is one or two generally old men who are "set apart" to be the Patriarch. One of these old dudes gives what is often referred to as a personal scripture to each worthy member of the church after an interview with their bishop who determines worthiness. I think new members have to wait at least a year. So this "blessing" tells you about who you were in the premortal existence, what lineage you can claim re: the 12 tribes of Israel, warnings to watch out for in the present time and what you can expect in the future. If, say, your blessing promises you a marriage to a worthy woman which results in many children and you--gasp--don't get it (also counts for going on a mission), it is rationalized that you will receive such things in the afterlife.

So lately I'm reading a lot of other people's accounts of how their patriarchal blessings began with a fairly long "interview" where the almighty patriarch (he who is endowed--teehee--with the ability of a psychic to know my past, present AND future) before the actual "blessing"

The entire time I'm speaking with this man I'm thinking "wtf, are you serious? this is very weird." I KNEW I was in effect giving this man the answers before the test. This feeling was verified during the actual blessing as I was told all the same shit I just told this guy. Nothing--nothing--was new to me.

I was so pissed for years after this. Just pissed. I was in tears. I wanted to tell somebody, but that's just not an option. It's supposed to be just for you, nobody else. You can give away a few things here and there in the correct setting, but never ever share the entire thing with anyone other than your parents and/or spouse.

I should post it. I should. Maybe another time. Oh wait, I did!

And I understand that this may be nit-picking and rather punctuation-crazy of me (although I understand I'm not perfect at this either), but I couldn't believe the errors once I received my printed copy. Shouldn't something of this importance be, you know, professionally transcribed?

Every time I read it I wanted to cry. It just made me so angry. Once I married Eric I was happy to show him and confess, finally, that I hated it. I hated it more once I read his. He loved mine, though, and I could never figure out why. I loved his. I don't remember why. It just seemed better in a lot of ways.

I felt robbed. Any asshole can ask a few choice questions and them "predict" shit. Also, when all else fails just say this person is of the tribe of Ephraim and make some shit up when that person's other family member is of the tribe of, say, Benjamin (it's supposed to be a blood thing--if you're Jewish you'll be assigned to the Judah--I think. Correction?)

It's fucking ridiculous.

Now that I've posted it, you can see it at My Patriarchal Blessing

Stupid Church

I know I already posted today and I worked on it and yadayada, but here's something that needs a bit of awareness:

LDS Church Buys Ogden Motel: Closes the Doors

"Residents of the Ogden Lodge were scrambling to find a new place to live Thursday as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints finalized the purchase of it and plans to demolish the motel to pave the way for future development...The property is of interest to the church because of its proximity to the Ogden Utah Temple and the church's well-established support of downtown redevelopment efforts," [Scott Trotter, a spokesman for the church] said, adding that plans for the land have not been determined.

Now it seems the seller (not the church) was responsible for giving the residents sufficient time to get the fuck out, but one guy says he only got notice last week. The Church is throwing it's arms in the air "we were assured!"

But does it matter?

The Church doesn't even know what the fuck they're going to do with the property. And it's their property now, not the other dude's. Can't they just say "okokok, you know what, Christ would let you keep your home or at least give you somewhere else to live. At the very least we could wait until next year. It's not like we're hurting financially or plan on doing anything until next summer. Merry Christ-Christmas-Christ."

Naaaah.

"My name is Tom Monson. I oversee '13 million' members of the Church. I wax poetic about widows so y'all know how compassionate I am. I call myself a prophet, a seer, and a revelator; even a businessman who represents Christ. As such, I needlessly kick the unfortunate out of their crappy but needed homes right before Christmas for our financial benefit. And I'm a Mormon."

Keep paying your tithing, good members. It's doing awesome things.

Wrestling with school. Again.

Few things these days make me angrier than the fact that I'm 29 and haven't finished school, that I'll be 35 when I'm done if the planets align and I don't have to take a break here and there. That many who I run into and am acquainted with, non-members, are those who have either finished school or who are, you know, 21 and almost done. And there are worrisome issues after that. How hard I have to fight to do it. I can blame some of it on the church, but in the end the church was the perfect scapegoat. It gave me the excuse I was looking for. But it also encouraged me to give up my dreams. It encouraged me to rely on others (read: men), just as I'd always been encouraged to do--if not men, then others. To allow my fears to get the better of me because I'd never been allowed to stand up to them before.

Do y'all have ANY IDEA how terrified I am? Any idea? Two days ago I was looking up the phone number so I could call the university to tell them I couldn't do it. After all the bullshit I've fought past, all it took was one little phone call to the university day care program and the simple comment "There's really a slim to no chance you'll get your son in, so don't get your hopes up. We don't have much if any turnover this time of year."

Motherfucker!

You have to understand, and you'll likely remember if you've been here a while, even this past semester where I took ONE CLASS at my local community college I had to fight like hell just to be able to take just ONE CLASS. And to do that, I had to rely on the amazing help of my amazing step-MIL who picked up my kids once a week and then one other day when I had to help out in Joseph's class because putting the older two in the after-school program for a grand total of 45 minutes for $12 is ridiculous. I understand I could leave them there longer, but there's no reason for that. I would have, though, if I had to. If she wasn't so willing.

Now I feel bad.

I have a super-guilt complex when it comes to my kids, even though I told myself since high school that I would not repeat what my mom did: give herself entirely for my brother and I. I know this sounds noble, but she's always been so unhappy and without anything else to turn to when we were gone. It made her hold onto us that much harder because she didn't know what to do with herself when we weren't there. While it is certainly attributed to our own personalities, it didn't help us become independent in the least respect. I'm still struggling.

I still don't know if this is church-related or what. I really don't.

But next semester, in order for me to attend my classes, I very well may have to call on some more help. Three days a week. Step-MIL home-schools, as does MLDSFDTS. SMIL said she could watch Joseph for me on Fridays. My cousin volunteered quite freely to help, but she's got some things to work out for herself and may not always be available. I'm sure I could work something out, but y'all, it exhausts me to think of doing this again. I'm almost broken.

And neither Eric or I enjoy asking for help of this caliber. It's a lot to ask, and it requires a lot of trust on my part.

And it makes me so fucking angry. I'm angry because Eric didn't need to worry about this shit. He had his own things to worry about, granted, but he didn't have to worry about scheduling around me or the kids. At all. And in that way I feel terribly alone. Eric is willing to do what he can, and without his support I wouldn't even be trying, but even then: alone.

I don't know if I can do this. I'm pretty determined, but there's still a chance I'll opt to wait out until Joseph is in the first grade and I at least don't have to worry about this daycare stuff. I hate the idea of dropping him off at my cousin's house--he doesn't really know her (i can fix that somewhat) and I don't know how much fun he'd have there. I hate the idea of what my schedule will be like three-days-a-fucking-week. An hour there, four hours in class, race home to pick them up, ten minutes later pick up Joe at his preschool here. I also have my online class to worry about.

Y'all, I don't handle stress well. I really don't. Sometimes I do, but there are days...and that makes me question this entire thing. But I also think about what going will mean. And if I can't teach for whatever reason, there are other options. When I remember why I'm going, what it will do for me and my family, I've never been more determined.

The church took this away from me. Not directly, but indirectly. And I'm pissed. It didn't care about me enough to encourage this good thing. It told me to stay home, barefoot and pregnant all the time. It told me to multiply and replenish the fucking earth all on my own. It told me to submit (sorry, "hearken") to my husband. It told me that I could work only if I fucking had to, but even then that work such as that of a secretary was all I should do. Only single women in the early twenties who have "no opportunity" to marry a man are allowed to finish college. And I had the opportunity. Thank God I married a good man. I swear I'd be divorced by now if I hadn't.

And then what.

And not only that, but this whole fucking bipolar thing. It makes these things 100x harder. And while I'm fairly certain it would've reared its ugly head at some point anyway, my "heeding" the church's ugly teachings triggered it earlier than it probably would have otherwise.

This brings me to sobbing tears every day lately. The kids don't remember Eric being gone all the time, going to school. Abbie remembers a little, but it's like her surgeries and doctors appointments: she sees the scars and remembers some of the invasive procedures and yearly ultrasounds, but they're a forgone memory. She was young. They're done. They'll remember me being gone. They don't quite understand it. And I simply don't feel like a "good mom" anyway--mostly because now I don't know what the fuck to do. I've nothing to fall back on. Though I've known life sans The Church since I grew up without it, that's hardly a mold I want to use. I tell others my mom did the best she can, but while she didn't beat me and abuse me like her own parents did, I took and still take my own brunt. Then I have the genes from my father that freak me the fuck out. I'm fighting my genes, people. It's hard to convince myself I don't have to be them, that I can choose their best traits. But even then, their best traits simply aren't mine. I'm a fighter, but I can only do so much.

I do know I bust my ass for them as best I can, and I'm going to school for them as much as I am for me. But my best and your best aren't necessarily the same.

I want to be an example to my daughter--my sons too, but mostly my daughter.

I also know that if I thought this would be the worst thing for them, I wouldn't do it. But I also know that if I didn't do it, my anger would simply grow and my depression and sense of self-worth worsen. I'd be my mom. I can't fucking have that. My kids don't deserve that.

And now that I think of it, perhaps I AM doing what my mom did to us: making life too goddamn easy. They need to suck it up sometimes.

So, I'm going. I just hope it works out in the end. This is one area where my ten years of church still very much has a hold on me, and it pisses me off. So much.

On Stewardship

I don't know how I'm going to get through 12-16 units of school if I keep blogging when I ought to be studying.

But this is school related, sooo...

We've watched "The 11th Hour" over the last two class days, a movie about the health of our planet and how we're severely fucking it up. The first hour pissed me off, it was nothing but a scare-fest. "We're all gonna die! Turn into Venus! Ahhhhh!!" I realize it was a matter of convincing otherwise skeptical viewers that we really are headed up shit creek without a paddle fast, but still.

The second hour, of which we watched today, was more about what we can do.

People, the more I learn the more helpless I feel. Ever heard of liberal guilt? I hadn't until just a few weeks ago. Y'all, I got it. Bad.

Urban Koda talked a little about this the other day, how he wants to do what is best for our world and the animals and the people in it but just can't fucking afford it. You want to spend the extra cash on sustainable, grass fed beef. You want to buy the free range eggs (even though it's not necessarily better because it's not necessarily "free range"), you want to buy organic. You want to buy recycled. But in the end, you just can't afford it. Food is not all we need. We have kids, we have houses that need to be fixed up. We have places to go. So what do we do? Head over to Walmart, that's right. Cheap cheap cheap.

We do what little we can. I use cotton bags now. I buy products with the least amount of packaging, the most recyclable packaging. We've replaced all of our lightbulbs. We have the most energy-efficient windows on the market. When we can, I buy organic/natural. We've cut down on the number of times we eat out. If we had a decent farmer's market (we don't) that lasted longer than 6 weeks (we don't), I'd be there in a hot second.

But like I said, we don't.

I'd like to buy fruits and veggies in season, but I don't know what they are, what to do with them, and--worst of all--I just don't have the palate for many fruits and veggies. I'm a 12 year old. When summer hits, fruits and veggies are one of the few things I'm happy about: Strawberries, pineapple, peaches/nectarines, decent tomatoes (I swear to god I'm growing my own goddamn tomatoes next summer, whether or not our backyard is done), grapes, zuchinni and squash, peppers, melon, etc. When winter hits, I'm all about the oranges--but not much else. Even then, supermarket produce kind of bites. Also, Eric is allergic to many fresh fruits and vegetables. Canned it is for him. Or cooked. I do like sweet potatoes. As long as they're sweet.

Sigh.

We're also incorporating more and more whole grains into our diet. But again, I cannot stand oatmeal. God help me, I've tried. Rolled and steel cut, spiced and with fruit, doesn't matter. I hate the texture. Unless it's in a cookie. I sense a common thread here...

Trying to vote with the dollar isn't always easy. I live in an agricultural area and yet there are no small farms around here--wait, scratch that. Next summer I swear I'm going to take advantage of the little fruit stands. They're everywhere.

Alas, I've yet to watch Food Inc., mostly because I know it'll scare me and convince me even further that the food I eat is terrible and ruining everything--but what can I do? Not a hell of a lot.

At least I'm pretty sure I want chickens. Which is funny, because that was one of my mom's ideas about me going Mormon. I'd move to Utah, be one of many wives, and we'd have chickens.

Then, then there's Gasland, an indie documentary about the crisis of natural gas and how the big companies are royally fucking up our soil and our water--not so much my soil and water, but those of certain locales. It's so bad in some areas, where wells are drilled mere meters away from a house, that they can literally light their kitchen sink water aflame.

I decided after seeing that documentary that I don't really need my gas stove. That said, I realize electricity is derived from fossil fuels, so you're damned if you do, damned if you don't. But I don't need my gas stove. And, once we can afford it (which shouldn't be too much longer), we are so getting solar panels installed.

So, I mean, there's not a hell of a lot I can do. I'm feeling guilty enough about having to drive 50 miles three times a week for school--it's not like I can take a bus or ride a bike or walk. Carpool, maybe, but there are trust issues involved. And timing as well. It is a very green school, though. Green town. So, so, so many bikes.

Anyway. Here's the crux of the issue today, all of this aside:

My professor asked a very unresponsive and seemingly disinterested room why nobody in a position of power is listening to all of the evidence regarding climate change and sustainability and what we can do to be more eco-friendly. I wanted to raise my hand because I had an answer, but it would likely piss people off. He went on to say it had a lot to do with money. Corporations are now legally considered individual entities, with the rights and powers of a single voter. They give millions to politicians, propositions, etc. for their own financial gain and the politicians accept it because they want to win. Money money money. Capitalism at it's fucking finest.

My answer, however, was that the majority of these politicians who take this money are not only seeking out their own gain so they can do what they feel will better the economy--which is important--but because their constituents, if not the politicians themselves, are Christian.

Now, hold on. This is not a dog on Christianity. Entirely. But conservative Christians, at least the ones I've ran into and know, feel climate change and eco-responsibility are myths. God gave us this world and whatever is in it is to be used for our good. Why would god allow our land to reject us? Then you have assholes like Limbaugh saying shit like the oil spill is no biggie because oil is natural and water is natural. Never mind the scope of the problem. Or that they feel marijuana may be "natural" but that doesn't mean "good." You know?

Nobody remembers the bit in the Bible about our being stewards of the Earth. Everyone thinks and has thought for years that our resources are unlimited, that God would never ever let us ruin the land we live on. That god, therefore, gives more a shit about our bottom line than the fact that your tap water is flammable. Undrinkable. Can't even take a shower in it. That things like this seep into the soil, make its way into your food when the cattle eat off it. They don't see the balance because as many of them see it, we are the ultimate. Nothing can happen to us. We are eternal.

There's a balance between our economy and our home. I'm not vilifying the economy entirely, just that whole "love of money" thing. I mean, look. My family needs more money if we're going to consume better. Which is wrong, but it's reality.

So maybe I'm just looking for it, but I'm angry at religion today, at least mainstream Christianity--and yes, you could include Mormonism in there too. They speak about taking care of the earth with their lips but that's about it, and then only when it looks good. Otherwise, it's elitist to be concerned. It's faithless to be concerned. It's "stupid" even to do what you can. Eric got so much shit for using a push mower. People don't get it. They don't want to listen. They think all of this is a hoax, indoctrination, godless. It's beyond me.

We're such an incredibly smart (forgive me) species. We've taken ourselves to the moon, put satellites in space, created microchips so small I don't understand how one can see it--we have the ability to change our technology with regard to energy and yet we don't because we need the money. We need the job. We pander. We are willfully ignorant. We don't care.

And we don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I'd love to change the world, but I feel paralyzed and helpless. Tired. Pulled in fifty different directions--where do I start and when do I stop?

I think we need to start with a younger generation. My sister is getting the clue despite her upbringing. They're the ones willing to listen. They're the ones with the energy. They're the ones not caught up in a life that took them for a ride. But we can do it too, little by little. Still, spreading this information is rough stuff. You mention one thing like climate change and half the room tells you to fuck off, god is at the helm. Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow Christ will come and the Earth will be renewed to its paradisaical glory.

We're still waiting.

Thoughts on the Edits to Packer's Talk

I don't know if any of y'all want to know my perspective on the latest drama with the church changing some pretty key statements Packer said during Conference.

I'm just tired and overwhelmed and disappointed with some of the more faithful's responses to what he said. Now they've changed important aspects of his talk, the most significant I believe is the change regarding the Proclamation on the Family from being "revelation" to "a guide."

That's huge. Proclamations have never been regarded as mere "guides."

Not to mention the one line that took MLDSFDTS aback: "Why would Heavenly Father do that to his children?"

All gone. Like he never even said it.

All in all, this is lame. Some say it's correlation doing it's job and yay for clarifying what Packer obviously meant, but it feels like a cover up. The church isn't good at that, but they will try because their members won't look this shit up. Not supposed to. Also, their faithful members are awesome at rationalizing and can't fathom this man being wrong. Because he's got an in with god, or whatever. The most frightening part is that he's the next in line to be THE prophet. I still remember when I first began investigating, taking part in an online forum where someone believed Packer would follow Hinckley and shuddered in fear. Couldn't figure out why, I mean, if god calls him god calls him. Inspiration.

Yawn.

Here's a link to Mormons For Marriage where you can see all of the changes. Personally, I'm not surprised.

I will just sigh for now and move on.

If I had more time, I'd be working on my resignation letter. I wouldn't send it yet, which is starting to bother me. I want Eric to be ready, but I don't want to push him. He's not ready to tell his family about this very big step and doesn't want them to find out another way, like when they're looking at their family records or whatever. I get his hesitation, but goddammit, I'm having a really hard time staying while the leaders perform all this hurtful mindfuckery. The faithful say we're going through a time of separating the wheat from the chaff. That used to bother me. It still does a little bit, but I have to recognize that it's all a farce and they can thus go fuck themselves. I'll be a chaff if it means I don't have to associate and be associated with the wheat.

So I want to at least write the letter, but...well, I guess my reasons for procrastination are lame. I have enough time to blog but not enough to re-research out the proper way to resign without issue. I want to put my own spin on the letter, not quite like Kristen did but similar. It might be really cathartic to tell the church to fuck off, even if its only to the dude that processes the letter. Besides, he's a grown up.

You can probably expect a draft letter or two from me soon, once I get the time to get my bearings.

I hope my friend notices those changes. She could really use that tithing money. But you know, everyone can. There's really no sense in funding church buildings and temples with members' hard earned and much needed cash when the church can afford to spend billions (that's right, with a b) on malls of all things.

Limits

There was a time I never spoke out and I'm horrified by it. A time I didn't think and didn't listen but just accepted. I can't seem to figure out when and where and how often it's appropriate to speak out, especially as a person who rarely gets out.

I'm an undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive. But I am diagnosed with something else that includes obsessive and compulsive thoughts and behavior. It's a nightmare. I find a topic and I obsess over it. I have a thought and I obsess over it until I can't stand it anymore and act on it. This process generally takes a second, but sometimes takes over the span of a few days. Weeks, months. A year. It depends on my cycling. Sometimes I don't think and just do despite knowing I need to stop and think. I'm rarely happy with myself afterward. I'm learning control, but it's hardly easy. It's a continual struggle that often results in damaged relationships. One that depends on the forgiveness of others and the gift of second, third, even fourth chances.

I want to do what is right, but the definition of "right" has changed a bit. I feel a lot of responsibility being surrounded by people who can't see past their leaders' noses, spread the ignorance, and in the process hurt others. But, you know, they feel just as right as I do.

I don't often proclaim something is definitely right or wrong anymore because I know there are exceptions, that there are more than two sides to each story. I can give a general, reasonable judgment on certain things--murder is wrong, rape is horrific, love is good, the church isn't "true." I can reasonably proclaim that racism and sexism are bad, that while homophobia is not in itself bad (I see it more as a misunderstanding, lack of education, experience, time), the actions that stem from it can be.

I should be more concerned with inspiring people to think for themselves rather than make judgments. People who feel wrongly judged don't want to listen. They want to fight back. I think there are those who have felt ostracized by a religion or church or its members because of individual beliefs understands this. It's the same on their end, too. When you feel attacked, you want to fight back--however is your style.

I'm on the fence about this Boyd Packer thing. I want to talk about it, and I have. I want to scream and yell, which I've tried my best to not do. I'm actually proud of myself for my reactions here. Not so much elsewhere on the 'net, though. I've come to ask myself at what point do I stop--at what point does focusing on it and feeding it become antithetical to me, personally? Because let's be honest, I'm standing up for myself, too, because this very thing is what drove me out of the church. The accusation that I wasn't faithful enough despite everything I was doing to be just that.

But what of those I'm standing up for as well? At what point does it harm more than help? At what point do I end up chasing away those who might otherwise listen to me at a lower volume?

I can't figure out when silence is good and when it's hurtful. My husband says he's disgusted by everything that has happened, but he doesn't show it unless I press him and even then he's pretty even-keeled. And it's then that I wish I could be more like him, more like those who exhibit control. I feel out of control.

The quote I have on this blog propels me to action. I don't want to be silent anymore, especially as others around me state that which is wrong and spread those diseases. I don't want to be silent anymore, in part because I am still attempting to atone for a sin I committed ten years ago when I dismissed my hurting friend. I want to stand with him, with them. I want to be brave and do this in not-so-safe places. I want to acknowledge things within myself that will help their cause--but I'm not entirely sure it would. Because in the end, to too many people, I chose a man. I chose "the right."

Not only do the words like that hurt other people, but they hurt those who don't know any better than to just accept the sentiments and conclusions of their chosen leaders. Later some of them will find out. Later they will hate themselves. Later, they may even realize they've been hating a part of themselves all along.

Not that I want that, but perhaps that's just how it has to go.

Banned Books Week: Speak

So Dawn Embers just wrote of this fucked up article by a fucked up guy who has no fucking idea what he's talking about.

Have a punching bag nearby. You'll need it. Especially if you've read the books (I've only read Speak and I want to strangle this man)

That said, there is some humor to be had in this grown man's word choice. "Female parts."

Sigh.

(btw: "female parts" = her butt. yeah)

You know what pisses me off about this? The irony. This is a book about a young girl who was raped at a party and doesn't feel she has any power, even to tell her parents or her best friend about it. She has been rendered silent from her trauma.

Things that have happened to far too many young girls. (one is far too many)

I had a lesser thing happen to me that rendered me silent--which is what pissed me off about my friend's reaction to the book. She was pissed because the girl wouldn't speak. WHY DIDN'T SHE DO ANYTHING?

I swear, it makes me seethe.

These are the people who want to ban books like this. "Keep her quiet!" they say.

To make it worse (and I don't glory in pointing this out, but hell) this is a man telling her to keep quiet.

I've read Speak and nothing this man says about the storyline rings quite the same. I'll admit a certain inability to retain information when I read--but seriously. I'm looking. This shit ain't there. Not like he says it is.

He's also mad because the kids think the adults are losers. Uhm, does he remember being a teenager?

Also, it's not that graphic. It is shocking but in a way that it ought to be shocking. If it weren't shocking, something would be seriously, seriously wrong.

And besides, these stories need to be told.

I've read the book and you can bet your ass not only will my daughter read this book but so will my boys.

Why?

At the end of the book is a printed interview with the author, Laurie Halse Anderson. One of the questions is this:

Have any readers ever asked questions that shocked you?

Her answer:

I have gotten one question repeatedly from young men. These are guys who liked the book, but they are honestly confused. They ask me why Melinda was so upset about being raped.

The fuck?

She adds:

The first dozen times I heard this, I was horrified. But I heard it over and over again. I realized that many young men are not being taught the impact that sexual assault has on a woman. They are inundated by sexual imagery in the media, and often come to the (incorrect) conclusion that having sex is not a big deal. This, no doubt, is why the numbers of sexual assaults is so high.

I am also shocked by adults who feel that rape is an inappropriate topic to discuss with teenagers. According to the U.S. Department of Justice, 44 percent of rape victims are under the age of 18 and 46 percent of those victims are between the ages of 12-15. It makes adults uncomfortable to acknowledge this, but our inability to speak clearly and openly about sexual issues endangers our children. It is immoral not to discuss this with them.

I can't speak to Mrs. Anderson's conclusions necessarily, but that last paragraph grabs me by the throat. Especially coming from a church that tells its young women that (A) if they are raped it's probably their fault for dressing immodestly or otherwise "asking for it" and (B) they should rather die fighting for their "virtue" than be raped.

My boys will also read it because, as I neglected to add, this shit happens to them, too, and our macho-man society isn't exactly kind to them, either.

Yes, this is an important book. The tone is expertly geared to average young adults. It took me back to high school. The main character is a good kid. Awkward, normal teenage girl.

So they try to ban it.

Ignore it and it'll stop.

If you haven't read this book, please do. Don't be turned off by the YA classification. It's important, especially if you have kids. It's important if you deal with kids.

It's just a good book. And it needs to be supported. Buy it for a friend. A niece. A nephew. Someone. You can get it used for about two dollars, plus S&H.

Don't allow fucktards like this guy to ban it, to silence the 46% of girls aged 12-15 (the age of the main character is this book) and pretend shit like this doesn't happen.

Because, obvs, abstinence-only solves everything.

Now that that is out of my system.

A bit of a ramble today, if you will.

So I've been feeling like an ass lately. Been reading these really great posts from other bloggers. One in particular--don't remember who it was--mentioned how dumb it was for Mormons to not give their girls a middle name because it would later become their maiden name when they got married.

It's a tradition in my husband's family, so we just did the same for our daughter. I regret this now. Not because it's stupid so much, but because I never got to name any of my kids after my great-grandma. She's still around at 95, but she's slowing down. A lot. And I lovelovelove her name.

I haven't spoken with Eric about wanting to officially make that my daughter's middle name, but I'm certain he won't care. I just don't know how to go about it. I'm sure we could go to the county and find out, but I haven't a lot of time these days.

Besides, it's weird trying to explain to Abbie why she doesn't have a middle name yet. She doesn't really get it. And the obvious question now is "what if she doesn't get married?" You know?

Why do we expect people to get married? I suppose because many people do, but still. It's imposing upon her an expectation, and I don't want to "expect" my daughter to get married.

Besides being stupid in and of itself, there are more important things to expect, to teach her. Like being her own person. Staying true to herself. Think critically. Be the best she can possibly be. To be happy and strong, confident.

You know?

I cringe reading other posts that criticize these nuances of Mormon culture--in part because I think it's harmful if not abusive in some cases, but because I did that too. And I didn't even know it. I wasn't BIC, but ask anyone and they'd tell you (because they told me) that I sure as hell acted like it. When I joined, I embraced it all. Whatever doubts I had I dismissed as unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I often wondered, in the beginning, where the church had been all my life.

However, I am proud to say I never, ever, ever wanted to go to BYU. My best friend suggested we go to UVSC for a while, live in her grandparents' basement, and a part of me wanted to but I'm a wuss about moving more than an hour away and I don't know how serious she was about it either.

So many forks in the road in my life I wonder about. What if I would've sucked it up and gone to Texas to attend University with my best online friend back in the day. What if I would've gone to UVSC.

I want to think "What if I went to UC Santa Cruz like I wanted to throughout high school" but joining the church before I even could crushed all those dreams and the ones that came after. The English thing got set aside. Next I remember telling my institute director that I really felt that I should be a paralegal, and the look on his face told me quite clearly it was not acceptable. So I settled for the community college's glorified secretary program--I was very good at it, but it didn't make me happy. It just seemed more appropriate.

That said, I can't blame it all on the church. I think. I don't like anything hard or scary, so the excuses were welcome. Joining the church was neither hard nor scary. It was my way of finally rebelling against my family--sad, right?

I just wish I would've been more independently-minded. Something about the church took that all away from me.

There are a lot of things about the church I am grateful for. A few close friends, my new family, my kids. A home for a few years. But there are a lot more things that piss me off. Eric's the same way. And we both realize that had we gone a separate way out of high school (he regrets his mission), we probably would have never met--and I cannot begin to tell you the chemistry we had, the connection. But still, we wonder. And we're a little angry about it.

And I'm a little angry at myself for wanting so much to fit in, to embrace all the little traditions. I wanted so much to have a real, traditional LDS family. (Eric never did, btw)

At least I never learned to sew so I could make my own clothes. At least I finally--after a few years--realized the last thing I wanted to do was scrapbook. At least I finally realized saying "no" was okay. At least I finally came to terms with the fact that I could not physically or mentally handle the big family I wanted so much in the beginning. It's bad enough I have three. Maybe I'll tell that story later. It's a scary story to tell because, you know, I do love my youngest.

Anyway, I never felt right in Relief Society. I'm just not a girly-girl. I don't like doing "homemaking" things. Besides, everyone my age had callings elsewhere.

My friends and I called it "Menopause Society."

And at least I realized right away that, while largely no problem with the actual endowment ceremony, the initiatories CREEPED ME OUT and there was no fucking way I was going to wear my bra over my garment top. It was too, too weird.

And I know there's no use crying over spilt milk, but it still stings. In a lot of ways I wish I could've been slightly more rebellious and less Molly, but that's out of my system now. More and more I feel I'm getting my power back, and it feels good.

Still, I continue to learn that some of the things I did and said weren't just isolated, "me" incidents, but very much Mormon. And it's weird. And it does make me angry.