When asked what I was passionate about, I found it hard to answer and what I did come up with didn’t seem significant enough. The truth is, however, I am passionate about people and things that affect them: freedom and opportunity, tragedies–both natural and man-made, the every day things and the once in a lifetime chances. I think it would be appropriate to be compassionate and I could not tell you that I try because, the truth is, I try not to be sometimes. It’s all to easy for me to get swept up in despair because I cannot possibly help everyone or even know where to start.
To help alleviate this despair, I decided that I would stick to what I’m good at. Every day, I would make my loved ones smile and laugh and feel good about themselves and, in my head, these ripples of goodness slowly spread outward and perhaps, just maybe, touch every corner of the world. Nevermind that it’s a sphere.
And maybe along the way I will discover some way that I can contribute in more “significant” ways because I know that saying “I make people laugh” doesn’t exactly sound like ground breaking life’s worth. But don’t let me undercut what I do because I am damned good at it and if I died today, the people I loved would be sad because there life was better for having me in it, for having me to make them laugh.
And that is awesome.
Yet, sometimes, the reality for those who I can’t make laugh hits me like a ton of bricks. And I get angry. Or sad. Or a hysterical combination of both. Because I care. Because I am passionate about people in general, despite my sarcastic and biting sense of humor that may indicate otherwise. That is how I felt when I stumbled across the following:
There is a country where the leading cause of death of pregnant women is murder by a partner. In this same country, more than a million women were raped in 2008 and women are much more likely to live in poverty than men. Local laws don’t protect their right to bodily freedom and integrity; some rape laws even state that once a woman initially consents to sex, she doesn’t have the right to change her mind.
You may have caught on by now — yes, I’m talking about the United States.
average life span of a transgendered person is twenty-three years. The statistic is shocking, until it begins to make sense. Gender non-conformists face routine exclusion and violence. Transgendered people are disproportionately poor, homeless, and incarcerated. Many of the systems and facilities intended to help low-income people are sex-segregated and thereby alienate those who don’t comply with state-imposed categories. A trans woman may not be able to secure a bed in a homeless shelter, for example. Spade writes that just as the feminist movement tended to “focus on gender-universalized white women’s experience as ‘women’s experience,’” the lesbian- and gay-rights movement has focused primarily on a white, middle-class politic, centered on marriage and mainstream social mores.
Google has stepped up and created a Person Finder page for those who may be missing in Japan. I personally clicked over and stumbled across an entry for someone looking for information about someone in Misawa. I left a little blurb to inform the poster than Misawa AB has reported no deaths or serious injuries. It’s really hard for me to read about what is going on over there right now. It just hits.. a little too close to home but I hope that I have helped.
And despite the political turn that has occurred, people like you and me are stepping up to help others. Like this Tumblr user who want to give rides to women in Virginia who require an abortion but must now travel out of state for the service. Or this user who says (and I paraphrase) “You know what? Abortion isn’t for me but I respect the life of the living as well as the yet-to-live.”
Pro-choice is not pro-abortion. Pro-choice is often far more pro-life than “pro-life” is. I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone who thinks abortion is just fantastic or the new perfect birth control, that’s not how it goes. If you really want a lower abortion rate, put your time and effort into education and health care (you know, programs like Planned Parenthood). No one has any right to tell a woman what to do with her body or anything that’s growing inside of it. No one has any right to put women in danger for a group of cells, especially a group of cells they will later ignore and expect to fend for itself.
I spent yesterday with my Mom. I figured, I could push my sleepiness until late in the day and both enjoy the company of my family while resetting my schedule. I sort of succeeded on both accounts. I hung out with my sister, talked to my aunt, caught up with Mom and her husband, chilled with my cousin. I enjoyed brownies–a new tradition, it seems.
And by the time 7 PM rolled around, I was curled up on the sofa, drifting to sleep, while my sister lay on the other end. Although I had fully intended to go home, I wound up crawling in her bed and sleeping the night away. This is why I am up at 8 in the morning.
I feel so silly. I know I entertained the hell out of everyone for my tired shenanigans but I also know I would have been more active, if I weren’t so tired. I apologized to Mom for coming over to eat her brownies and fall asleep. She just laughed and said I as funny. I did, however, wash her dishes and fold some laundry before we headed out this morning so I’m glad I could help her out a bit.
Anyway, there’s no post to this except to say, yay family!
It’s my first Valentine’s Day as a single girl. I guess last year sort of counts but this year it counts completely. I remember, when I was a teenager, how it hurt to be single on this one day a year. It may have been difficult on other days but, on this day, it was the worst and it was almost unbearable to watch when it seems like everyone but me was in a happy and healthy relationship. All the candy and flower selling at school only added insult to injury as I failed to receive things from my friends. Not only was I single but I wasn’t winning the popularity contest, either.
This year is different, however. I may not have someone to be my valentine (or do I?) but I have hope and I have happiness, regardless of my relationship status. Therefore, when people complain about how stupid Valentine’s Day is, I cannot help but roll my eyes. It is commercialized? Absolutely. Is it ridiculous to think that everyone wants or needs or wants to buy a piece of jewelry or a box of chocolates? Of course. Is the very nature of this commercialism what makes this holiday classist? You bet. And these are all legitimate reasons to dislike this or any holiday..
It’s not like some good doesn’t come from Valentine’s Day. Like any special day, it helps those who are not extraordinarily romantic to express their emotions. It makes time for those who are otherwise busy and who doesn’t enjoy having something to look forward to?
..but the whole “I hate it and I’m going to pretend it’s not because I’m single” thing? Is getting old. I’d rather you cry and whine about being single than have to put up with that bullshit. Can we just call a spade a spade? Yea, an overly publicized day that focuses on romance and relationships sucks when you don’t have the above-mentioned but do you really have to rain on someone else’s parade because of that? Or worse yet, do you have to make the day even more difficult for other singles with your bitching and moaning?
And this is exactly why I am wishing you all a happy Valentine’s Day.. because I wouldn’t want anyone to be thinking “God, I wish she’s just shut the fuck up and quit bitching about February 14th” like I will surely do today.
In the book that is Cole’s life, this chapter would start with something stereotypical such as “I never expected to return home and part of me dreaded it, as much as the rest of me was looking forward to it.” I would continue on with words about how things were not how they were when I left them (true), how I needed to cut ties with some of the people and things that used to be part of my life (also true) and how, despite all this, things would turn out even more amazingly that I could ever imagine (the truest).
I think what surprises me most about returning home is not the reconnections I looked forward to but the new connections I am constantly fostering. I have become good friends with complete strangers and better friends with mere acquaintances. The area itself and the individual people in it are continuing to surprise me. I never realized my home town, my home state was so full of versatility, options and adventure.
If you hadn’t noticed, the holidays were a little difficult and moving was stressful. I wasn’t able to be as positive as I’d have liked and that in itself was bringing me down a bit. I have been so positive these last few weeks, however. I’ve been dealing with, if not managing to overcome my anxieties and, at the end of the day, I am most surprised–yet pleased–with myself. As confident as I might sometimes appear, I guess I never knew I had it in me.
