tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49711127721826457222024-02-18T21:00:45.835-08:00I Hate Keats...you offend reason, Sir.Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.comBlogger210125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-12746340630234073062015-11-30T10:39:00.001-08:002018-03-09T09:56:44.214-08:00Why I sympathize with StoyaThis last weekend news hit that Stoya, a famous porn star, had accused her now-ex boyfriend James Deen (another famous porn star) of raping her. In a twitter post she said:<br />
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<i>“James Deen held me down and <span style="background-color: black;">fu@^#$ </span>me while I said no, stop, used my safeword. I just can’t nod and smile when people bring him up anymore.” </i><br />
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24 hours later, another porn star, Tori Lux, <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2015/11/30/tori-lux-james-deen-assaulted-me-too.html">stated</a> that she had been assaulted by Deen as well. In her recounting of the incident and in response to why she didn't call the police, Lux said, "because people—including the police—tend to believe that sex workers have placed themselves in harm’s way, and therefore can’t be assaulted." And then another woman, Ashley Fires, <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2015/11/30/james-deen-the-bill-cosby-of-porn.html">spoke up</a>, saying "that he has boundary issues, basically that he tries to break women...that he is dangerous.” (He's since been accused by a total of 9 women.)<br />
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These situations in the news have been unpleasantly triggering for me. There are a LOT of rape victims out there who didn't stand up for themselves because they didn't think they'd be believed, they were ashamed, or they felt guilty. I know, because I'm one of them. And while I might not be a sex worker, mine and Stoya's experiences share some commonalities.<br />
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In 2008, I moved to Seattle, after a partner and I separated. I was raised in a small town with not a lot of exposure to diversity, culture, or alternative lifestyles and was excited to live in "a big city." About a year after moving, I met a nice girl who became a much-needed friend in the city. Making new friends is tough and I was grateful for her kindness. I was also fascinated by a sub-culture she was a part of that I knew nothing about. This friend was part of Seattle's kink community (you read 50 Shades, right?). In our time as friends, I met a lot of really interesting, genuinely nice people. I also met a few predators who used the wave of sex-positivity in Seattle to do damage to naive people...like me.<br />
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In 2011 I met a handsome, successful, charming man who was also a part of this community. I trusted him enough to go to his house. I trusted him enough to go in his bedroom. I had no intention of having sex with him. We kissed. His hands went a few places. And, when I pulled away because I didn't want to go any further, he grabbed my hair and pushed me down onto the bed. I told him to stop. He didn't stop. I said no. He didn't listen. He held me down, called me terrible names, and punched me until 30% of my body was black and blue while he raped me. When I was frozen with fear and humiliated, he smiled and took a picture.<br />
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Here's where it gets really gray: I froze. When it finally occurred to me that he wasn't stopping and something terrible was about to happen, I just froze. I felt guilty about that for a lot of years - like it was my fault - like, because I didn't kick and scream, it wasn't rape. I didn't understand that freezing during trauma is a physiological coping response. <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/grade-point/wp/2015/06/23/why-many-rape-victims-dont-fight-or-yell/">Here's a great article </a>explaining what happens to the brain during a traumatic experience and why some people (particularly rape victims) freeze.<br />
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I said no. So did Stoya. I asked him to stop. So did Stoya. And I willingly went into the bedroom of a man I knew. So did Stoya.<br />
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My roommate was home when I got home that night. I went straight to my room and didn't come out for 2 days. I showered a dozen times. I couldn't touch my bruised skin without crying and feeling like I was going to vomit. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I finally told a longtime friend, Ray, who came and coaxed me out of "hiding."<br />
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I didn't call the cops because I didn't think anyone would believe me. Everyone would have said I invited it. I knew he was kinky. I went into his bedroom. I was wearing a shirt that showed a little extra that night. A lot of people would say I was asking for it. A lot of people will probably say Stoya was asking for it. Those people are part of the problem.<br />
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My story doesn't end with that night. I was raped again...5 days later. I'd been seeing someone non-exclusively, that year. I thought he was a friend, someone I could trust and confide in. 5 days after I was raped, "John" called, worried, because he hadn't heard from me and I hadn't responded to any of his texts. I told him I didn't want to see anyone, that something had happened and I just needed time to process it. He asked me to come over because he was concerned. I went. I showed him what was left of the bruises and told him what happened. I cried again. He kissed my cheeks and held me. Then he started undoing my top. I told him I didn't want to. He shushed me and told me it was okay, placating me like I was a child. "John" raped me again and I just went numb. I learned later, in therapy, that this is called dissociation - where the mind can't deal with the trauma that's happening so, unlike freezing where you're present but frozen, your brain literally checks out. That's what I did. I checked out. He finished. I left. We didn't really talk after that. And once again, I didn't call the cops. This time, it was because he was a well known defense attorney. I knew better. I know how men and power in our society works and I wasn't about to bring that storm into my life. Instead, I tried to continue on with life like nothing had happened to me. And my life fell apart. I fell apart. A year after that, I moved away. I left Seattle and moved to Kitsap, met nice people, got a cute little house with an alarm system and dead bolt on my bedroom door, and I started therapy.<br />
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I've had a LOT of therapy in the years since. I also ruined a lot of relationships because I just wasn't an emotionally well person for a long time. I've been a terrible employee in a couple of jobs because I couldn't deal with male authority (although, I had one male boss who knew and was pivotal in getting me into therapy). I'm grateful for friends who were there for me when I was really ugly and manic. It took a long time to be something of a normal human being again. Here's the thing:<br />
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You never really "get well." It's always there. You're always triggered. You'll always be a little sad, a little jumpy, a lot suspicious. With very few people being the exception, I really don't like to be touched. But I finally don't deadbolt my bedroom door anymore. Most of the time, I feel safe again.<br />
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Rape effects EVERY part of your life. It's tough to talk, not talk, sleep, eat, communicate, spend time with family and friends, trust anyone at all, feel joy, sustain any kind of meaningful relationship. I don't wish it upon anyone.<br />
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<b>Stoya and Tori Lux: I am SO sorry for what happened to you. I am SO sorry for what happened to me. I'm so sorry we still live in a society where some people assume that, just because I kiss you, I've given consent for you to do whatever you want to me. I'm SO sorry that we live in a society where men see women as objects or as something of less value than them; where some people in this world enjoy doing harm to others. I'm SO sorry that, unless we're kicking and screaming and fighting a man off of us, it's not considered rape. We shouldn't have to live in that kind of society. </b><br />
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Why do I tell this story now, years later? I've never told anyone exactly what happened (and even this is a very truncated version). I shouldn't have to hide it. It's not my fault. It's NEVER the victim's fault.<br />
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<i>"A man in a room full of 100 women is excited. A woman in a room full of 100 men is terrified."</i><br />
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<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-45021079081032281182013-04-30T14:44:00.000-07:002013-04-30T14:44:02.814-07:00Have a seat. Snuggle up.This is way to creepy for me to be okay with it:<br />
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Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-21162263829826919702013-04-03T08:56:00.002-07:002013-04-03T09:02:00.991-07:00Benevolent Sexism. It's so darn friendly!This article was written by <a href="javascript:void(0)">Melanie Tannenbaum</a> in <a href="http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/psysociety/2013/04/02/benevolent-sexism/">Scientific American</a> and I LOVE IT.<br>
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<h1 class="postTitle" id="postTitle2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; color: #222222; font-family: Brunel-for-Titles, georgia, times, serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px 0px 5px; orphans: auto; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
<a href="http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/psysociety/2013/04/02/benevolent-sexism/" rel="bookmark" style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; color: black; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Permanent Link to The Problem When Sexism Just Sounds So Darn Friendly…">The Problem When Sexism Just Sounds So Darn Friendly…</a></h1>
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Something can’t<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">actually</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>be sexist if it’s really, really nice, right?</div>
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I mean, if someone compliments me on my looks or my cooking, that’s not sexist. That’s awesome! I should be thrilled that I’m being noticed for something positive!</div>
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Yet there are many comments that, while seemingly complimentary, somehow still feel wrong. These comments may focus on an author’s appearance rather than the content of her writing, or mention how surprising it is that she’s a woman, being that her field is mostly filled with men. Even though these remarks can sometimes feel good to hear – and no one is denying that this type of comment<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">can</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>feel good, especially in the right context – they can also cause a feeling of unease, particularly when one is in the position of trying to draw attention towards her work rather than personal qualities like her gender or appearance.</div>
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In social psychology, these seemingly-positive-yet-still-somewhat-unsettling comments and behaviors have a name:<i style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Benevolent Sexism</i>. Although it is tempting to brush this experience off as an overreaction to compliments or a misunderstanding of benign intent, benevolent sexism is both real and insidiously dangerous.</div>
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<b style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">What Is Benevolent Sexism?</i></b><br>
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</div></div></div><a href="http://ihatekeats.blogspot.com/2013/04/benevolent-sexism-its-so-darn-friendly.html#more">Read more »</a>Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-30278696434864391342013-03-13T22:21:00.003-07:002013-03-13T22:22:38.777-07:00Humanity shows its ugly face on the ferryThis actually just happened:<br />
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Couple #1:<br />
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Guy (in cliche trenchcoat) - I'm not going to watch the Labyrinth, if that's what you mean. I can't do it.<br />
Girl - But it's SO. GOOD.<br />
Guy - Or the Dark Crystal. I just can't do it.<br />
Girl - What? Why not!??!<br />
Guy - It's muppets. They freak me out. it's like some bizarre expose of human life.<br />
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Meanwhile, couple #2 (who's standing RIGHT NEXT TO COUPLE 1):<br />
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Guy: I feel like humanity is mocking itself.<br />
Girl: I know riiiight?<br />
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Oh man. This kind of shit is why I don't do drugs.Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-70295330901962595992013-03-02T08:23:00.003-08:002013-03-02T08:23:36.272-08:00Beef Island<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">One of the islands in the British Virgin Islands is called Beef Island. Really.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Flights to the land of beef are less than $700 roundtrip right now. This makes me want to, once again, jump into questionable territory for the sake of a good story.</span>Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-40548508001414770082013-02-21T12:26:00.002-08:002013-02-21T12:26:44.621-08:00Just. Wow.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.shanekoyczan.com/">http://www.shanekoyczan.com</a></div>
<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-71818372615106493692013-02-14T09:34:00.000-08:002013-02-14T09:34:01.704-08:00Happy Valentine's Day!Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/0VfqiRtS26qIqgug39MuXb">"Fallin" ~ Connie Francis</a><br />
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<span id="goog_1571045874"></span><span id="goog_1571045875"></span><br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-77929592996916990552013-02-10T15:39:00.002-08:002013-04-30T14:42:54.373-07:00This is what happens when you stop eating food...Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/6PwfLLwtXhCcp1PiBpjJkJ">"Can't Hold Us" ~ Macklemore & Ryan Lewis</a><br>
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I've been pretty MIA since around Christmas both online and off. It was necessary given the decision I had made about the direction my life and my health were headed. And now that I'm on my last week I'll fill you all in on what the last 2 months has been about for me:<br>
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I haven't chewed food since Christmas.<br>
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I'm not joking.<br>
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I made the decision in December to do a 30 day juice cleanse. I'd spent a lot of time being really unhealthy. Emotional trauma had lent itself to using food as comfort. I wasn't just eating too much, I was eating the wrong things and it had taken a toll on my body. I was tired, irritable, my skin was dull, my muscles hurt...I just wasn't a well person.<br>
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I'd thought about eating "clean" for a long time and, after a few forays into vegetarianism, I knew I wanted to go that direction. Something just HAD to change and I knew I wouldn't stick with it unless I reset my whole body...and my life. I decided <a href="http://livinggreenmag.com/2012/05/21/food-health/the-beginners-guide-to-juice-fasting/">juice cleansing</a> was the right choice for me. I'm a HUGE advocate of the <a href="http://gerson.org/gerpress/the-gerson-therapy/">Gerson method</a> so juicing made sense for me as a way to kick start such a huge change.<br>
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Many of you have heard about juice cleansing. Some of you have heard nightmare stories about what an awful experience it was. I don't know about other people but, for me, it was fantastic and I'll definitely be doing it again. I loved it so much that when I hit my 30 day mark, I decided to keep going.<br>
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Today is day 43. I'm on my last week of a 50 day goal. Today also marks the first time I've eaten solid food. Let me explain how it is that I have one week left but I ate solid food:<br>
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When you're juice fasting, you pretty much give your digestive system a break. So, when you complete a fast, it takes some time to get your body used to digesting food again. To come off of this properly, I'm mixing soft fruits and vegetables in with my daily juicing for this last week. I want to transition slowly and healthily so my body can reap the most benefits from this experience.<br>
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What are the benefits? It's pretty simple and comes in 2 parts:<br>
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<a href="http://ihatekeats.blogspot.com/2013/02/this-is-what-happens-when-you-stop.html#more">Read more »</a>Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-12992526415620223642012-12-07T22:28:00.001-08:002013-01-29T12:51:55.640-08:00i am an emotional creature<br>
<b>Here’s what you will be told:</b><br>
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Find a man<br>
Seek protection<br>
The world is scary<br>
Don’t go out<br>
You are weak<br>
Don’t care so much<br>
They’re only animals<br>
Don’t be so intense<br>
Don’t cry so much<br>
You can’t trust anyone<br>
Don’t talk to strangers<br>
People will take advantage of you<br>
Close your legs<br>
Girls aren’t good with:<br>
Numbers<br>
Facts<br>
Making difficult decisions<br>
Lifting things<br>
Putting things together<br>
International news<br>
Flying planes<br>
Being in charge.<br>
If he rapes you, surrender,<br>
You will get killed trying to defend yourself<br>
Don’t travel alone<br>
You are nothing without a man<br>
Don’t make the first move,<br>
Wait for him to notice you<br>
Don’t be too loud<br>
Follow the crowd<br>
Obey the laws<br>
Don’t know too much<br>
Tone it down<br>
Find someone rich<br>
It’s how you look that matters,<br>
Not what you think.<br>
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<a href="http://ihatekeats.blogspot.com/2012/12/i-am-emotional-creature.html#more">Read more »</a>Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-42967910313832822382012-12-03T20:00:00.001-08:002012-12-23T22:30:22.256-08:00Oh God I Can't Handle It!It's just possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen, EVER.<br />
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^^Do you see him petting the kitty?!?!? Do you?!?! Gah! I can't handle it!!!</div>
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I know. Relax. Even though right now I'm telling myself, "I WANT A PET RACCOON!!!" I realize this is a totally unreasonable idea.</div>
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I mean...they <i>could</i> be house trainable.....</div>
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...maybe.</div>
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Oh! But that reminds me: I <i>do have</i> a pet raccoon. Sort of. I mean, it lives outside with the tailless squirrel who lives in my tree. Guillermo (that's the raccoon's name) scared the shit out of my best friend when she was housesitting for me. I guess she took my trash out for me (I know right?!?!? She's just lovely) and it reared up and charged at her.</div>
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Obviously NOT a raccoon I raised. If I had raised him, he would have had much better manners...Spanish Dignitary manners...Espanoles Dignitario.</div>
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"El Dignitario Espanol es muy educado!"</div>
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"Si! Estoy muy impresionado! Y un bailarín experto!</div>
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Just sayin'.</div>
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Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-78037364795525320482012-12-01T11:54:00.002-08:002013-01-29T12:52:52.619-08:00Have I told you how my sister is my best friend?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/1Wlc48TJG3uny2ygT5wU02">"Sisters" ~Rosemary & Betty Clooney</a></div>
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This is a continuation of <a href="http://www.ihatekeats.com/2012/04/thats-just-science.html">this</a> post.</div>
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<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-28517910006178168862012-11-12T21:49:00.000-08:002012-11-12T21:49:09.859-08:00Why doesn't MTV play music videos anymore?In this installment of "Ask A Network Head," Natalie asks the head of
programming at MTV why they stopped playing music videos. And gets a fun
answer! Yay!<br />
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<br />
In other news, there's a digital sign above the loading dock of the ferry I take to and from work every day. It says, "vessel loading" but, for some reason, I always see, "Fear & Loathing."<br />
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Things are consistently better and more interesting in my world.<br />
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And with that, another Alice in Wonderland reference:<br />
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Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-59674088608318462672012-11-12T13:26:00.001-08:002012-11-12T13:26:52.384-08:00Clearly I've surrounded myself with the right kind of people<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/2KeAEzFzKIWj7NFmWmcepq">"It's Thanksgiving" ~ Nicole Westbrook</a></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-small;">Click screenshots to enlarge</span></div>
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<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-82501993073621288032012-11-08T22:55:00.001-08:002012-11-08T23:06:57.798-08:00Seattle continues to be witty and irreverent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Saw this ad today in downtown Seattle on my way to my bank:</div>
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My city cracks me up. Way to maximize current affairs for advertising, Roku! </div>
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In other news, I continue to adore the company I work for. Tonight we hosted a networking event up in Bothell with a certain member company that's doing cutting edge high-performance computing software. There was local beer, trivia, snacks, and a kick-ass photo booth that we took FULL advantage of.</div>
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I know. We look STUPIDLY happy. And we are. That's how much I love my job. These girls are the bee's.<br />
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<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-19182004887259635642012-11-07T20:10:00.000-08:002012-11-07T20:26:34.813-08:00Side effects may include...Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/5IruGb6BKWcB7hpPnj4YQO">"I Ain't Mad At Cha" ~ 2Pac</a><br />
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Aren't we all so glad the election is over? Aren't we all so glad I'm going to be blatantly irreverent again?<br />
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It's okay. Me too. Thanks for hangin' in there with me guys. It was tough. Hey! How about some awesome mid-week gangsta rap with some smooth-ass R&B mixed in?<br />
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Today I went to get my vaccinations for the upcoming trip to the <a href="http://www.ihatekeats.com/2012/06/americans-love-aliens.html#more">Dominican Republic</a>, which I like to call "Drunk on our faces in the lawn while our security guard fishes our pants out of the pool" trip.<br />
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Needles hurt! I mean, I knew this. But really. I didn't KNOW this. I got vaccinations for hepatitis A, hepatitis B, typhoid, tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis, and a prescription for anti-malaria pills. So basically, I'm now bionic and potentially light up under black lights. I'm the life of the party.<br />
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Just a little while ago I was emailing a friend about it and preening about how my arms didn't hurt at all.<br />
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I guess that just makes me a great big liar.<br />
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Ow.<br />
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On the up side, I look exceptionally Popeye-ish right now. Suuuuuuper buff.<br />
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So, I don't know if I ever told you guys this but I'm irrationally phobic about parasites. So bad, in fact, that I was able to dissect a pig in high school but not a worm. The worm was so disturbing to me I had to leave the room...and I cried. So disturbing that even typing the word now makes me want to vomit in my nose.<br />
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So clearly, I had to ask my doctor about the safeties of 3rd world countries and if she would just prescribe me a few rounds of charcoal pills now, you know, just in case.<br />
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There was a noticeable pause in the conversation and she just kind of looked at me blankly. I'm assuming it's because she was processing the genius of my forethought.<br />
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Immediately after that she said she was required to have me complete a survey on mental health because it's just something they do now with everyone, every visit.<br />
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I'm <strike>insisting</strike> assuming the two situations are mutually exclusive.<br />
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Lastly, I've seen posters in medical offices about proper methods of hand washing. But never have I seen one about hand RUBBING.<br />
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I feel like this should be given to teenage boys.<br />
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And <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/4Tyv7nnNTHC6mR1pTubIrw">this</a>, because it's been a while...and I miss Weeds.<br />
<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-39807248082429666572012-11-05T19:33:00.001-08:002012-11-05T19:33:08.805-08:00Listen to your elders, people.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Listen to your elders, people. They have a WEALTH of knowledge to share:</div>
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<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-73431798093948995742012-11-04T18:04:00.003-08:002012-11-04T18:09:29.012-08:00Shackin' up<div style="text-align: center;">
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Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/6Hd9t6YkxErDTXpauzx9XN">"Love Me Honey Do" ~ Patsy Cline</a></div>
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O but what about love? I forget love </div>
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not that I am incapable of love </div>
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it's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes- </div>
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I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother </div>
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And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible </div>
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And there maybe a girl now but she's already married </div>
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And I don't like men and- </div>
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but there's got to be somebody! </div>
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Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married, </div>
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all alone in furnished room with pee stains on my underwear </div>
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and everybody else is married! All in the universe married but me!</div>
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Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible </div>
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then marriage would be possible- </div>
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Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover </div>
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so I wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life. </div>
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~Taken from "Marriage" by Gregory Corso</div>
Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-19852918818275378392012-11-02T18:23:00.000-07:002012-11-02T18:24:12.311-07:00Happiness needs to be elevated to pandemia. Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/34EC5ubKn821YiCFJq0s7l">"Enjoy Yourself (It's later than you think)" ~ Louis Prima</a><br />
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Are people getting meaner? Or am I just noticing it more? Maybe it's like when you buy a blue car and then realize how many blue cars are on the road. My awareness of cruelty in the world is becoming Nietzschien.<br />
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It seems like every single day I see something awful. Like the father who was screaming at his infant on the ferry the other day while it cried hopelessly. Or the woman who kicked her dog as they crossed the street. Or me, when I ignored that poor woman on the boardwalk when all she asked for was help to get food.<br />
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It all breaks my heart so much that I get literally, physically nauseous when I think about it all, like feeling the emotions I felt in those moments might make me sick, because our bodies weren't meant to house that kind of negativity.<br />
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Maybe I notice it more because I'm out of the city. Maybe I notice because my island is slowly connecting to land.<br />
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I just know that everything makes me feel this horrible sense of despair and injustice, like I might lose it if we all don't start doing the right thing right now.<br />
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I want to crawl up on a clock tower and declare that we're all going to be happy, goddamnit, even if you all hate it.<br />
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<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-1263196152001247392012-10-31T21:07:00.000-07:002012-10-31T21:08:21.971-07:00Thanks for coming to my Pinterest party!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/0JizNDs5C3u3LrX7R9cAGf">"Going Up The Country" ~ Kitty, Daisy, & Lewis</a></div>
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Last weekend I went to Portland to visit my sister, nieces, and close friend. I haven't seen them in months.<br />
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After a great weekend of quality time with my sister we found ourselves (myself, sister, and friend) sprawled out on my sister's bed talking to each other while "pinning" feverishly on our phones.<br />
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We pinned so hard my sister fell asleep.<br />
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I don't know if it's that we've become old and "boring," if we've become girlier, or if Pinterest really is just the coolest thing ever. But something about three 30-something women falling asleep from Pinterest exhaustion is crackin' me up.<br />
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"Thanks for coming to my Pinterest party guys! It was super fun!"<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Shameless plug: If you click on the Pinterest symbol to the right you can see my pin wish list. :)</span><br />
<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-77840433169562498132012-10-31T20:32:00.001-07:002012-10-31T20:33:15.710-07:00Rape is just a "thing"The fact that I share a state with this man is upsetting in and of itself.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTmz4VzKpwrN32yK7LtX1eFzecyuWGRa8TehPjmqkJ7ZXGGloEflEJCTR7ngfAD2q5p7TioGOCXuONLGe4PaD_VNyq4RE2fm0_Rc787jXdKti814NmxXWi3UlEPVG5BkQwMeIBZYccN5w/s1600/Article.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTmz4VzKpwrN32yK7LtX1eFzecyuWGRa8TehPjmqkJ7ZXGGloEflEJCTR7ngfAD2q5p7TioGOCXuONLGe4PaD_VNyq4RE2fm0_Rc787jXdKti814NmxXWi3UlEPVG5BkQwMeIBZYccN5w/s640/Article.jpg" width="464" /></a></div>
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Okay so, let's just clear one thing up really quickly:</div>
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Why are all of these middle-aged, overly-priveleged, out-of-touch, caucasian, male politicians weighing in on a woman's right to get an abortion after she's raped?</div>
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Why aren't they weighing in on educating men NOT TO RAPE?</div>
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I'm tired of being your scapegoat.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Read full article <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/10/31/john-koster-the-rape-thing_n_2051752.html">here</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Listen to full audio from John Koster <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/10/31/john-koster-the-rape-thing_n_2051752.html">here</a>.</span></div>
<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-25475088289485255322012-10-24T23:13:00.000-07:002012-10-24T23:16:19.755-07:00Today I failed.Today on my way to the ferry terminal a homeless woman jumped in front of me quite suddenly and asked for assistance. Before I could really register what was going on, I told her I don't carry cash, which was the truth.<br />
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But it wasn't until after I said it that I realized she hadn't asked for money. She had asked me to help get her something to eat.<br />
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And it wasn't until I was past her that I realized she was crying.<br />
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And I didn't turn back.<br />
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I can't get her face out of my mind and I feel so, incredibly, terribly, and guiltily awful.<br />
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A crying homeless woman asked me for food and I kept moving.<br />
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What is wrong with me?!?!?!<br />
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Afterward I told myself I'd make it right. I'd do something tomorrow. I'd see her again. I'd see someone else. I'd get another chance to make the right choice.<br />
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But the thing is, that choice was in front of me at that moment. And I messed up. I chose the wrong thing.<br />
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Doing the right thing and helping the people around you isn't based on second chances. It's based on an unwavering moral compass.<br />
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I just wanna cry.<br />
<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-44971269330375592812012-10-11T20:12:00.001-07:002012-10-11T20:20:51.642-07:00Malarkey, sleepovers, and pergatory via planning meetings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sorry for being MIA for the last 2 weeks, guys. I'm still here. I've just been really busy with this new job which, BTW, is so fantastic I might pee a little from excitement. Even today when our budget planning meeting lasted 8 hours (and it's not done yet ugh...kill me now) I was still super happy to be there.<br />
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I. Love. It. There.<br />
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I've got the Lady's Quarterly Sleepover: Autumn Edition this weekend so I'll be sure to recap that debacle this coming week.</div>
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Also, did you guys catch the VP debate tonight?!?! I feel like, in a less civilized world, they would have thrown down. I gotta admit, watching those two grapple it out on camera would have been awesome. Biden would have growled and snarled and ripped off Ryan's pale, clammy arms and then beat his chest with them in victory.</div>
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At least, that's how I imagine it in my head...and we all know how bizarre it can get up in there.<br />
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If you missed the debate, watch it all below:<br />
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And please, for the love of kittens, unicorns, and gummy bears, get out and vote! Don't be that douche canoe who wants to tell us your opinion even though you didn't exercise your right to voice it when it mattered.<br />
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Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-31224122701694173762012-09-27T23:57:00.003-07:002012-09-28T00:26:05.410-07:00You Can Help Save Baby Casen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://media.komonews.com/images/120926_baby_big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://media.komonews.com/images/120926_baby_big.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This beautiful boy from Puyallup, WA is suffering from a disease that's so rare, only 14 people in the world have it. For him to have treatment, his family either has to move to Belgium or travel there monthly. Either way it will cost them hundreds of thousands of dollars to keep their baby alive.<br />
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I'm asking all of us to chip in and help this family save their baby. Help him have a chance at life.<br />
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Read more on the story and donate here: <b><a href="http://www.komonews.com/news/local/Puyallup-infant-facing-tough-fight-against-rare-disease-171428931.html">Save Baby Casen</a></b><br />
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Skip the story and donate directly here: <a href="http://www.giveforward.com/CasenBuswell"><b>Donate & Save A Life</b></a>Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-77719565363828426652012-09-27T16:54:00.001-07:002012-09-27T16:54:40.460-07:00You're suspect!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/4f8hBeMXMvssn6HtFAtblo">"El Paso" ~ Marty Robbins</a></div>
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Sorry for not being around as much lately...and for being so obnoxiously serious! I'm letting this election consume my thoughts. Sorry ya'll.<br />
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Yesterday was my last day with the start-up I was working for. I'm taking a little mini-break before I start my new position with a really exciting tech association.<br />
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What am I doing with this free time, you ask?<br /><br />
Well, so far I've watched 2 sappy mid-90s movies about really smart people, caught up on laundry, pined over kittens, and requested feedback on how early is too early for putting up my Christmas tree. Really you guys. I think the end of September is fine! That'll give me a solid 4 months of Christmas in the house! I could just put Halloween decorations on the tree...<br />
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I'm still doing <a href="http://www.ihatekeats.com/2012/03/but-i-cant-read.html">Friday Staff Meeting</a> tomorrow. I'm actually taking a ferry to the mainland just for the sole purpose of having lunch and a beer with my now ex coworkers.<br />
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That's dedication to the team, right there.<br />
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There are things I want to tell you about our trip to Chicago (got back last week) but, honestly, I just can't. It was easily the funniest, most memorable work trip ever that resulted in 2 moments I will never forget and CAN NOT think about without laughing.<br />
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After struggling with it for a week, I decided it was best not to post about it. Kind of disparaging. But fuckin' hilarious. Just know that.<br />
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We set some records. That's for sure.<br />
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All day I've had that song that goes "Out in the west in the town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girl..." stuck in my head. Except my brain keeps saying "...I fell in love with a Mexican boy."<br />
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Support marriage equality. Marty Robbins inside my brain does. So should you.<br />
<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971112772182645722.post-68719558029233570452012-09-26T10:00:00.001-07:002014-08-11T22:46:39.926-07:00Who Am I Voting For?Song for this post: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/4EDeBzhZMcHEx7A8IcDiaL">"Heart Like Mine" ~ Miranda Lambert</a><br />
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Put your political hat on guys, we're gonna get fancy.<br />
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This post is an extension of <b><a href="http://www.ihatekeats.com/2012/08/urgent-important-message.html">this</a></b> post.<br />
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This morning a statement about universal healthcare was posted on Facebook by someone I've known my whole life. And while she and I were never close as children, I've grown to respect her and care about her as an adult. I've watched her go through some tough life changes and she's come out of it shining. We differ GREATLY in our political beliefs. It's both of our foundations in Christianity that seems to be our common thread.<br />
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I couldn't have disagreed with her more this morning. And that's okay. Democracy allows for that. Coincidentally, so does my heart.<br />
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This election seems to have polarized our country, as many elections do. I feel like this one, in particular has created a bit more contronymity because our two presidential candidates, while both wanting our country to flourish, have absolute opposite road maps on how to get there. Similarly, some of the political topics of this generation hit close to home and are very, very emotional. Because of this polarization, many are quick to anger, quick to judge, and quick to discard valuable friendships.<br />
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Just like many of you, my initial, knee-jerk reaction this morning was anger. Anger at what I saw as selfishness. "I don't want to pay for other people's healthcare." To me that's basically saying, "I like my money more than your life." When you boil it down to the root, that's true and there's no arguing it. Given, there was a part of her position that had to do with being <b>forced</b> to pay for healthcare. But I'm sure she doesn't have a problem with us forcing people to pay for auto insurance, or wear seat belts. It's for the safety of their lives and for the safety of those around them. We are a selfish species, by nature. All of us. So selfish, in fact, that it takes a government mandate to make us help each other out. And it makes me feel guilty and sad and, well, angry.<br />
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As someone who has a foundation in Christianity I see very clearly that it's our moral responsibility (although, I like to use the word "privelege" or "pleasure" or "fuck ya I'd love to!") to "love our neighbor as we love ourselves." Let me be clear here, though. I don't think you have to be a Christian to understand morality. I just happened to have had it shoved down my throat every day so it's hard to forget. If I want to be able to go to the dentist to get a painful tooth fixed, I MUST help my neighbor do the same. My money is NOT more important than your quality of life and your health.<br />
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I do well. I have a nice house, a good car, I'm going on an international trip with friends later this year just for fun. She has a pretty cushy life too, my friend on Facebook this morning. I used to think many issues didn't apply to me because, quite simply, they didn't. I've worked hard to get where I'm at. I didn't care about universal healthcare because I have a great job and great benefits. It didn't apply to me. I didn't care about marriage equality, because I'm not same sex oriented. It didn't apply to me. I didn't care about a woman's right to choose, because I would never get an abortion. Plainly, I was out of touch. This should be a familiar phrase to you at this point of the current election. It's attached to a certain republican presidential candidate.<br />
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All that has changed. It's changed because I love someone very much who's husband bailed and now she has beautiful babies to take care of as a single mother. She needs universal healthcare. It's changed because I love someone who is deeply in love with someone of the same gender and it's not fair to tell them they can't get married when I can. It's changed because, when I think about a man telling me what I can and cannot do with my body, whether or not I choose to get an abortion (which is so NOT the issue) I'm enraged. I have a brain. I have a heart. I have a right to decide what I do with my body and the cells within it.<br />
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It was difficult to talk about universal healthcare with her this morning. But I love her and I respect that she has beliefs, even though they may differ from mine. She's not wrong. She's just wrong for me. But she's right for her. And here's my point in all this:<br />
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<b>I'm not voting for me. I'm voting for you. I'm voting for my neighbors, who deserve to have the same quality of life that I have. </b>Sometimes shit happens that makes that really tough. That person close to me didn't ask for her husband to leave. She didn't ask to be in a terrible car accident that makes it tough to work. She didn't ask to have one shit storm after another make her path so So SO difficult. There are no guarantees in life. It's not her fault. She DESERVES a chance. And <b>sometimes that chance takes all of us pitching in and helping out. </b><br />
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THAT'S what I'm voting for. Her chance.<br />
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Sometimes voting for you means my vote may differ from my own personal beliefs. Sometimes it SHOULD. It should because, as a loving people, we have to put ourselves aside to do what's best for others. It's not about me. It's about <b>us</b>.<br />
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So am I willing to pay more taxes so her family can have healthcare without worry and stress and more financial burden than they are already struggling with?<br />
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Fuck yes.<br />
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My money is NOT more important to me than their health.<br />
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Stop voting for you. Vote for someone else.<br />
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<br />Oh dear...http://www.blogger.com/profile/04159708780374537292noreply@blogger.com1