Mother Earth has a silly sense of humor.

It’s springtime in Colorado, one cannot deny it. Yesterday it was warm– near the 70s. We went for a looooong walk around the neighborhood with the dogs. We enjoyed the sunshine. We enjoyed the neighbors. We enjoyed learning some ins and outs of our community as pedestrians. I even got a tiny bit of a sunburn. Tiny bit, mind you.

Went to bed with the windows open. The heater turned almost all the way down.

Woke up, heard the cars driving by on Kentucky Ave., and it sounded like the streets were wet. Peeked through the blinds, my sleeping fingers splaying the slats apart…

It had snowed overnight. And just yesterday afternoon, Landon had predicted that we wouldn’t have any more snow this season.

I should learn to read my body better. I know I’m too young to be having these joint pains, but I do… my own body is a better weather predictor than any 9news meteorologist.

Anyway. It’s springtime. Where the unpredictable Colorado climate has even more fun catching us with our shorts and flip flops on and our sweatshirts in tow. Welcome!

I just want to point out how retarded my bank is.   Now, this is me venting, not complaining.

So, I open a savings account.  This is nice. This is good, this means I have a little extra money that I’d rather put in the bank.  Right?

Okay, so in order to Not Have Any Under The Limit Fees, I have to have a recurring automatic monthly transfer, which they set up for me.  The transfer amount: $75 monthly.  The minimum balance otherwise: $2000.

What???  That’s an awfully high monthly balance.  But, since I get paid twice a month, I figure a $75 automatic transfer shouldn’t suck horribly, especially since I was reassured that I could always transfer back if I wanted.

So, now that I have my savings account set up, I Now Have Overdraft Protection.  You know, in case I spend more in my checking account than I actually had– which, by the way, I have NOT overdrafted anything more than $1-2 in a very long time… Which means instead of getting dinged $34 for every transaction (even if it were a penny) that I go over on my checking, I now have the money “automatically transferred over to cover the overdraft” and only get a measly $10 fee.  Fine.  I can avoid these $10 fees if I just transfer money over from my savings to my checking before they go through.  Halle-fuckin-lujah!!!!

But wait, there’s more!!!  If I have more than six transactions in a month in my checking account, I get, wait for it… wait for it… A $10 excess activity fee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WTF????!!!??!

Argh.  Retarded.   Ask me how I really feel.

Beware, you’re about to read my opinions about lots of different things. If you’re not comfortable reading about things you might not agree with, I would encourage you not to read on any further. If, however, you agree or disagree and have something thoughtful to add, your feedback is HUGELY appreciated. What I’m trying to do is start a conversation… get us talking about the things we’re not supposed to talk about. With that, carry on.

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*tap, tap, tap* on my monitor…

So I finally decided to blow my screen up to 800×600 something or others.  I don’t even know what the 800×600 stands for, and I don’t care.  All I know is that the tiny screen now has very large everything on it, my lines require scrolling and I can FINALLY see what the eff I’m typing on this here “write post” box.  Of course, I’m on my desktop.

Well, not literally *on* my desktop.  I’m using my desktop computer.

Details, details.

Tonight was Tyler’s birthday party.  I think it’s the 3rd one he’s had.  I can relate to the multiple parties and multiple holiday celebrations and the overall plethora of gifts that comes along with having two families and then the two families’ families… I grew up having to rush through three or four holiday “dinners” for every occasion– and then throw in a boyfriend’s family and I’d call myself super multi-tasking exhausted girl by the end of the day.

Sadly, I think that taught me at a young age that it was about getting stuff– not necessarily about being with the ones you love.  I sure hope to combat against that ideal in him early on… I was an adult before I really figured it out… but it was more about having enough time to open presents everywhere– not so much about having time to just BE with my family.

Of course, probably most six year olds find holidays to be about presents. Don’t want to spoil the fun too early… I still think about it, though.

I’ve noticed that as I get older, I like my family a whole lot more.  They’re fucking nuts, but it just makes life more fun, more filled with love.  They’re people that even though I wasn’t born into their midst, they embraced me, and never let me go.

I’m truly blessed because my boyfriend’s family is also my family– I mean, how lucky is it that my dearest Raine is his sister?  So I pretty much knew the family before I even started seeing him.  It feels great to be an accepted member– a beloved member.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We had plenty of sugar tonight… I had a beer, even… (oooh) So, needless to say, I’m having a pretty good sugar crash at this point.  I think I’ll hop into bed.

Yay.  I love bedtime.  I love clean sheets and a good book… *yawn*

Have a good night yo’s.

I’m losing faith in our justice system. There seems to be significant amounts of corruption.

We have become the biggest, most powerful nation in the world yet we are above our own laws. Our founding fathers would be ashamed.

We break international trade agreements. We are violating human rights.

Fabulous.

I turn my eyes blind to it, because I am grateful for the freedom from oppression– my freedom to believe in whatever God or Goddess I wish, my freedom to choose my own profession, my freedom to take as many classes as I desire, my freedom to move about the city without a male escort or a headscarf.

I don’t scoff at my own governments’ illegal observation of my emails and phone calls. I have nothing to hide. I pretend that it doesn’t violate me. Of course, anyone who is habitually violated sees it this way.

I feel almost as though I have been keeping something from you.

So much has changed about me– about my writing since I moved my work from Myspace to my “own professional blog.” I have been in somewhat of a hibernation while I’ve been trying to figure out my new roles, and much of it has translated into a loss of passion for my writing. Not that it was ever Gone, really, but that I have been withholding, for one reason or another. I used to use my writing as a form of therapy– a form of pouring my heart out to you… and it has become something different. Something that was less biting, less intimate… and for that, I am truly sorry.

I became cautious… and aware of the infinite capacity I have to rule the writing world of internet… my reader base changed… and I was afraid of saying things that could be hurtful to past friendships that I believed at the time were salvageable. Who I am as a person has changed and grown… and much of this time has been spent trying to figure that all out.

I was thinking, though. And I was doing a whole lot of soul searching… purging the secrets from my past, creating new secrets to share with you all.

Please don’t be mad… I had good reasons to keep myself from you. I had good reasons, and while they were good for the time, I believe I’ve worked all those reasons out.

So it begins.

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Oh.  I just realized something intrinsic about myself.

It hit me as I was walking back from the printer/fax machine.

I listen to other people’s feelings so I don’t have to deal with my own.

Fascinating.

There’s something within us.  It’s inevitably within ALL of us, because it is the very essence of humanity– possibly the essence of all that IS.  It’s a deep burning, yearning, churning essence that makes us want to dance on our tippy toes first thing in the morning and at the same time drives us to sleep in late, curled up with our favorite person, legs intertwined and arms wrapped around, fingers intertwined until we cannot bear to lay still any longer.  It’s a comfortable place where we can sit next to each other without saying a word.  It is the very core energy that moves us from every single point in the emotional spectrum until we find the happy balance spot where we can just BE, with every emotion, not needing to even say a word to explain ourself.  It’s much like white light– the combination of all colors of light, except it’s not something that is measured in wave lengths, rather it’s measured in the number of breaths we take or beats our hearts make.

I love Love.  I love being In Love, and I love the people I love being In Love.

This love… it’s what all religions ultimately call “God” or “Goddess,” and it’s the life that enters every living creature.  It’s the product of our sentient experience of it, and it’s the unconscious drive within us that motivates us to move mountains.  And when we receive it from another, be it another human, another creature– any living thing, it is at that very point in existence that we cannot move forward without remembering it, in one way or another.

It is a connection that goes deeper than this lifetime, lasts longer than the universe, and can never be destroyed.  It wraps us into one soul being, in separate bodies, with separate skins that can easily be melted into one with just a glance or single movement.

It is a kiss of sunshine, a gentle breeze when you sweat, and a warm cup of coffee when it’s blizzarding.  It can be shared with many without running out because it is the fuel inside every cell on this earth, a renewable resource that will never dwindle.

Well, can you deal with mental illness?

Generally speaking, I say yes. I have this knack for being able to see a red flag that indicates I’m not working with a full deck and can immediately hit the off switch on my emotions. In most cases, I’m golden. Emotionally un-volatile. People tell me things. Things that no one should tell me. I handle it very well, and can remain objective and non-judgmental about it.

Except for one thing…

I have a really difficult time with suicidal people. It’s because I feel so emotionally connected with it. I’ve never once in my entire life– in and out of depression– NEVER felt the urge to kill myself. I’m afraid of death. I’m afraid of it not because I don’t want to die (though, I’m sure somewhere in there, that’s part of it), but because I can’t imagine the pain that my beloveds would experience in losing me. Of course I can think rationally about the situation: everyone dies. You’re no more unique in death than you are in birth. It’s an important part of our life cycle, which in many ways has been fiddled with so incessantly (probably because many people are afraid of death) to the point where we have extended our lifespans so dramatically that it’s affecting our ecosystem immeasurably. Hell, maybe it’s not immeasurable at all– we can see the measurable effects of over-population in a plethora of ways. The point is that I don’t necessarily agree with the extent that we’ve extended our life sentence. It’s not really very good to fuck with the cycle of life. Death is imminent, it’s necessary, and it’s REAL.

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The way we are doing things here as a culture is NOT working.

America is broken.

Fanning the fires with the media’s unrelenting coverage, there is copious talk of recession– bordering depression-era– fallout of the financial marketplace.  It’s not just here in the U.S., it’s throughout much of the western empire.  Housing markets are crashing.  The value of our currency is plummeting.   The masses of us who rely upon credit for our lifestyles are quickly discovering that the amounts we borrowed were only theoretical and can no longer be extended.  It’s leaving the working class in a bind.  The frivolous Can’t-Live-Withouts are quickly becoming the fat we trim from our wallets.

We’ve created a monster, and the monster is made up of our worthless dollar bills.

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