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Posts tagged ‘Random Stuff’

How I Deserve…

We were at the pool today, as we are wont to do after school since we are apparently living on the Surface of the Sun these days. The sky has been that foreboding shade of I Can’t Decide If I Will Rain Or Shine for the last two or so days, but throwing caution to the wind, or rather, deciding that we were sick and tired of sweating like it was going out of style, we took a chance and went off to the pool.

Now, the base policy that I have been handed personally when signing Kid up for swimming lessons states that the pool is to be evacuated if lightning is seen w/in a ten mile radius of the area. Lightning. Seen. This I can understand. This has been the common sense rule since I was a kid living on the lake and in a fishing community. So, I was a little taken aback when the tiniest rumble was heard today (there were so many helios and jets flying around that I am still not convinced that anyone heard anything) and the lifeguards immediately blew all of their whistles and made everyone get out of the pool. We had just settled in and were applying The Kid’s SPF 70 when this went down, so The Guy asked a man who was directing a group of teens out of the deep end if he could come over and answer a question.

He asked the khaki-clad white man why they had evac-ed the pool, and he said because of thunder. I looked up at him from my chair , shielding my eyes from the sun, and explained my confusion, because of the base policy on lightning that I had read. He said to me “Yes, and what causes lighting?” in a very “you must be in kindergarten and have never heard of this thing we call science” voice. “Thunder!” he said w/o giving me a chance to answer and walked away as if I was too much of a drop-out to know the answer. I get this a lot. Young mom of enlisted husband with child older than kindergarten equals uneducated woman whose only qualifications are vacuuming (and way too stupid to home school, lest I get too full of myself). I’ve seen that face. I also get it online when I reveal that I grew up on a reservation or when I admit to being disabled. I get people chasing me down on my very own blog in comments treating me this way. It is not a new sentiment.

Sure, basically he was right (let’s forget that whole thing about charged ions and the speed of sound and light and that given that we didn’t actually see the damned lightning he was still wrong…), but being right did not give him the right to talk down to me. What I was asking for was a clarification of the base and pool policy. If someone had simply said “yes ma’am, well the pool’s policy is that if we hear the tiniest rumble or anything we think might be a rumble or if your stomach growls too loudly then we pretty much make all swimmers get out for thirty minutes or until we ascertain that there is in fact no threat of actual lightning”, then perhaps that would have been just fine.

But, no. This guy had to mansplain to me as if I had never taken a high school science course with a text book written later than Ancient Greece. Or perhaps it is because we are not white (even though I am oft read that way, but The Guy is VERY much not). Or whatever his reasoning, this dude just decided that my question was not worth a courteous response.

I sat there, stunned. Did that happen? The Guy told me it was no big deal.


But it ate at me.

I wanted to go and ask this guy who he thought he was that he could talk to me like that when I was asking him a question, or better yet who he thought I was that he could talk to me like that and tell him how wrong he was. It made me think back to Chally’s post from the other day, about the way that her teacher spoke to her, and the way the department head immediately sided with that teacher, and how I wished in this moment that I had a fraction of that courage. I wanted to stand up strong and not be quietly marginalized by someone who decided I was less-than. Because that is sure how he made me feel in the three seconds he wasted on me.

But I was not raised that way.

I was raised to not make a fuss. I was raised to just let it go if no one (other than me) was hurt. I was raised to be more polite than that and be respectful of anyone with perceived authority, so much so that it has taken me several years to realize that “Fuck that, I have equal footing here”, because this man does not actually have the authority to dismiss me. Not just because he decides I do not deserve the time of day.

It took me a long time to realize that I am a parent too, I am an adult too, and other parents and adults don’t get to dictate what my actions should be. If I am abiding by rules and not harming anyone, I get to dictate my actions and have a say in what happens too.

I deserve to have misunderstandings cleared up.

I deserve to have base policies made clear to me so that I understand them and can abide by them

I deserve to be treated in a respectful manner, especially when my family and I are leading with respectful behavior.

I wish I had the courage to stand up and demand to be treated the way I know I deserve to be treated. I am working on it. I can recognize it now, so I guess that is a step.

But knowing and doing something about it are seldom the same thing.


Where There is No Pain…

I am staring up at the sky, and I can see the clouds rolling by. I am going the other way. We are giving a nod to one another as we go our way.

The sounds above me are all muffled, of people going on with their lives. I put them out of my mind. They don’t mind me, and I certainly, at this moment, don’t care about them. The sounds around me are different. They are bubbled and thunderous but deadened. They don’t hurt like the stark sounds of being above.

I glide. Above, I ache, I hurt, I am slow. I can barely move forward. But here, I am a Titan. Gods wish they could move like me. This is where I want to be. My muscles move the way I want them to. They ache and scream with the movement, but there is support under every part of my body holding my limbs as I reach.

I turn face down now, tuck my head, and open my eyes. The world is clear, and the sun beams across the floor in ripples, because it isn’t even as strong as I am here. I expel my lungs as I stretch my legs, moving them like scissors, gently. Every gentle motion has so much power. The movements that bring me glances of pity above make me feel like Poseidon’s child here. I was made to use my body here.

I reach, grab, and pull, gently, and glide again. I turn my head (it doesn’t hurt!) and take in a desperate measure of air greedily. My torso turns as if it can just swivel freely. I look down below me, straightening my spine, and see the blue tiled “T” marking my distance. One. Two. Three, and a tuck, and my legs push me back the other way.

I want to stay here. I want to remain where there is no gravity to pull me against myself and bring the pain back. I dread later. I dread even ten minutes from now, because we all have to pay the piper…

The second lap is slower. I always start off too fast. It is always too long between these trips, or too long between seasons (it is never the same indoors). My body can move, but my lungs burn faster. I have to come up more.

Halfway through I have to stop.

My feet (they are tingling now…again) find the ground and my hands reach for the wall.

No. Please.

I fight on. Because I want to stay here.

Where it doesn’t hurt.

The sun beats down on me.

Reach. Grab. Pull.

And it isn’t just the water I grab for. It is time.

Tuck, push, kick.


Under here I am alone with my thoughts, with how good it feels.

But my lungs ache for that air, and my body is tired, and my neck strains now when I turn for that air.

As I grasp that wall I am crying.

I need help out.

I am too tired to stand.

I have to rest.

And all I can think about is the next time I can get back in.

Never Fear!

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Your MRT will appear on THIS VERY BLOG VERY SOON!

I am coming to you live from a very SEEKRIT LOCASHUN!

If by “secret” you mean “a place I go all the time for lunches with ladies” and by “live” you mean, in a Lyrica Haze, then yes.

I am lining some things up for here, and FWD, and hopefully some other cool places as well (OOOH EXCITEMENT!), but all of that will have to wait because a really awesome and fabulous new friend who has really helped me feel at home here in Korea is celebrating her BURFDAY today (I don’t know how fabulous, because I don’t know that she reads my ACHIEVEMENTS ON THE INTERNET! FRIENDS! READ MY STUFF! I NEED THE WARM FUZZIE POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT!), and therefore thoughtful and meaningful blogging will be on hold for a short bit as we stuff our faces with some awesome Mexican food. Yes, Mexican food in Korea. DO NOT ASK ME TO EXPLAIN THAT.

So, Happy Birthday, friend who may or may not read my blog but whose awesomeness is not contingent upon blog readingness. There is time to draw you to the cookies that is the dark side.

I wish you all a happy day, and don’t forget to come back later after I have re-plugged in the OVERLORD for your weekly MRT!


Me, Elsewhere — Some Shameless Self Promotion

Katie Leung as Cho Chang holding a tiny owl. Text bubble reads "It can only carry messages of 140 characters or less. I call it 'Twitter'."It’s been a while since I have updated Readerland on where I have been and why it has been abnormally quiet on random babble… lately.

In no particular order:

Racialicious — Wopajo

FWD/Forward — For Cereal, Time?

For Cereal, Stars and Stripes?

A Conversation With a Pharmacist

Trust Me

Change.org’s Women’s Rights Blog — KBR to Jamie Leigh Jones: You Were Asking For It

Military Restricted Reporting Does Not Put Rapists Away

WASPs Receive Congressional Gold Medal For WWII Service

Judge Sentences Abuse Suspect to Marry His Victim

MyCAA Program Reinstated for Existing Account Holders

Lesbian Sergeant Outed by Police and Discharged Under DADT

Repeat Offenders Account for 9 Out of 10 Rapes on College Campuses

Equal Rights? Men Make All the Policies for Women in the Military

DoD Stops Payment on the Military Spouses Tuition Assistance Program

Gates Declares It’s Time For Women on Subs (with an attached Action Item)

So that’s what I’ve been up to…well, a little bit of it anyway. I have more tumbling around in my head. What have you been up to?

This is the story of a girl…

who has never liked avocado.

Ever since she said “Ew, what’s that green stuff?” and someone answered “Avocado,” (That’s a Gilmore quote right there, youbetcha!).

I think the last time I had eaten it willingly — which is arguably as to my willingness — was my 21st birthday, when someone brought me a vegetarian sandwich from Jimmy John’s. I was so trashed, having already left the contents of my stomach on my best friend/host for the evening/complicated relationship person’s doorstep. The fishbowl full of “Rough Sex” putting me over the edge where the potato gnocchi just wasn’t staying down.

“You aren’t 21 until you puke!”.

That sub sandwich, from which I always scraped the guacamole and mayo (and come to think of it, I can’t back up that it was a vegetarian sub. Some of the details of the night are fuzzy) was eaten as is, quickly. I hate avocado. But that sandwich, in my own words, “saved my life, it was so fucking good,” and I didn’t really give two rips about guacamole at the moment, and I am pretty sure that my stomach didn’t either when it turned me 21 for the third time that night.

I was told I had a fun time.  :D

But a few weeks ago, The Guy had a sandwich that had some foul green slices of the crap on it, and even though I maintain that it has no scent of its own, I caught a whiff of something…and wanted a bit but it was tuna salad, and I hate mayo on tuna. It is like Elmer’s glue on perfectly good fish…

I got a guacamole recipe from someone, to try out, because I can’t stand the store bought or restaurant crap (see above statement). It is more garlic, really. I played around with the flavors, tweaking it here and there, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t make some concoction that I found myself eating right off of the frackin spoon.

Last night I turned three avocados that were about to turn (we got them on special, and they were still almost two dollars a pop) into a big batch of guacamole.


So, this story of a girl is the inexplicable story of a reformed avocado hater. I even ate it in a sandwich with canned chicken (yes, I was once teased because I enjoyed kissing someone who routinely ate canned chicken, as if it was a foul demonic substance…like scrambled eggs — yes I have food issues — but now I eat the stuff myself) and spicy ranch. Avocado with bacon. Guacamole and chicken tacos (in that order). Avocados are now a constant on my shopping list…and I still feel weird every time I pick one up and squeeze it for ripeness…

Personally I blame the anti-seizure meds that made me hate Coke Zero. My taste buds are all messed up. I’ve started craving things that I used to hate, and now can’t stand things that I used to like. Even Guinness tastes funny, much to my chagrin this past New Year’s Day.

But avocado is definitely the strangest.

Life altering guacamole recipe available upon request.

And now for something completely different…

I’ve been a wee bit busy…

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My apologies.

I have been feverishly working on something that might actually get me paid.  WHEEEEE!

I should return you to your regularly scheduled posting Babbling soon.  Ish.

That is, as soon as I figure out what, exactly it is that I have an opinion on*.

PS  I have discovered that I am not, in fact, a very succinct writer.  A 500 word limit is almost criminal!

*throws down microphone*


*HA!  That was a trick question!  The correct answer it, what doesn’t OYD have an opinion on!  You lose!  F- -!

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