Personal responcibility, or just a way of being rebellious?

Lately I've been asking myself some serious questions about my life: where it's been, where it's going, whether I want to make any sort of significant changes in who and what I am.  I've been asking myself that not only due to the plethora of complete and utter assholes who have peppered my past relationships, but also due to some recent comments from others (both male and female) concerning certain of my personality quirks and hobbies.

Now I'm the first to admit that I've got a huge independent streak, and more traditionally masculine hobbies than you can shake a stick at.  I'm a tomboy.  I have been pretty much my whole life.  I've never had much use for a lot of the girly type stuff such as shopping, or the ever cliched soap opera watching.  I seldom wear makeup.  I rarely wear dresses unless I'm going someplace where blue jeans and a tshirt would be completely inappropriate.  I have tattoos, and I intend to get more.  I'm as at home camping and fishing as any of the guys I know, and probably a lot more at home doing so than several of them.  I'm more than capable of keeping my own vehicle maintained, changing a tire on the side of the road, pumping gas, changing oil and filters, bleeding brakes - and therefore seldom bother taking a car to a mechanic unless it's something Seriously Wrong. I love being a gun owner, and going out to the range for target shooting - and frankly would rather do that than spend a day at a spa.  (Though honestly - spending a day at a spa, getting deep tissue massage, manicure, pedicure, and facial is one of those rare "girly" kinda things that I Do enjoy doing on a fairly regular basis.)

Lately though, it seems that every time I turn around I'm getting criticized for simply being myself.   I've been getting told consistently that instead of being confident in my own abilties, independent, and self reliant - that I'm abrasive, arrogant, and conceited.  I'm hearing a lot, lately, about how to many of my hobbies are "unfeminine" - and therefore *I must somehow be completely lacking in femininity.  While I can appreciate the inherent beauty in another woman's form, I'm frequently being told that I come across as a lesbian dyke.  And I'm not, strictly speaking, bisexual - I'm refer to myself as "heteroflexible" simply because the idea isn't utterly abhorrent to me, and there Are women out there whom I would find intriguing in that particular arena.

If the only way that I can get people to quit considering me abrasive, arrogant, conceited.. or dykish... is to quit being Myself, then I think I'll just start snubbing those who make such comments.  If the only way males are going to consider me Feminine is if I act like some simpering, whimpering, weak minded, weak willed, incompetent nothing who can't take care of herself...... then I think I prefer to be mistaken for a dyke.

On a more serious note...

There's been a lot of talk lately about the proposed Mosque and "Multi-Cultural Center" to be built not far from the former World Trade Center location in New York.  It has stirred a lot of various feelings - renewed grief, anger, outrage.

I'm of two minds about the whole thing. 

My first instinct is to feel a massive surge of rage, grief, etc over the idea.  How dare they consider building a religious temple so near to that location, for the very religious beliefs that spawned those who committed the atrocity.  Islam is inherently intolerant of anything which is the least bit "different" and of anyone who does not follow Islam.  Conversion via the sword has been the rule throughout history, rather than the exception, where Islam is concerned : IE, Convert or Die.  Personally I'd choose death before I would convert to a religion which tells me I'm less than even a second class citizen because I wasn't born with a swinging dick.

Upon further reflection, however, I had to pause and consider the hypocrisy of proclaiming myself a Rabid Constitutionalist so many times over the years, and yet so blatantly ignoring one of the primary concepts this country (the US) was founded on - Religious Freedom.

What right do I have, if I'm going to uphold the concept of religious freedom, to deny someone else the right to follow whatever religion THEY happen to choose?  While I do not agree with the tenets of Islam, in denying someone else the right to follow such a religion, I open myself to justifiable criticism of my Own religious choices - whether that be to follow one of the Abrahamic faiths, one of the pagan sects, or no religion whatsoever.

While I shall continue to consider their choice of location to be gauche, tacky, lacking in compassion and foresight, and downright mean spirited - I cannot in good conscience protest their right to build if they have purchased the property, simply based on which religion it is that is doing the building.  Denying followers of a faith the right to exercise their religion (provided the exercising of that religion is in a manner that is safe for the general public, rather than putting others at risk of persecution or death) - takes us back 300 years, and crumbles what we've built here at it's very foundations.

Quasimodo days and sleep deprivation nights

There are drawbacks to have something as complicated as Lupus (Systemic Lupus Erythmatosis) as a chronic disease/ illness process going on in the background of my life.

Traveling low level pain that never quite goes away is one of them.  A multitude of insomniac nights is another.  And let's not forget about the flare ups of things being worse than "normal" (which is SUCH a Relative term!) when I start getting stressed out.  Or when I eat certain foods, or over indulge in others, or under indulge in still others.  Or when I've spent too much time out in direct sunlight, and therefore have had an overexposure to UV going on.  Or when I have my rare moments of true RAGEHATE about something.

These mini "flare" days are the days that I've come to refer to as "Quasi" days.  The term was coined by my long standing friend Jon, in reference to the fact that I'm typically in so much pain on days like this that I walk around hunched over and snarling at everyone, reminding him of the classic portrayal of Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Over the counter medications and pain relievers do not even Begin to touch the pain on days like this.  Nothing does, short of Class 3 Narcotics.  I wake up on days like this, curl into a fetal position on my bed, cry for a few minutes from the agony that even the pressure of a light sheet over me causes and the fact that it doesn't matter how I lay/sit/stand/move - it's going to cause agony even to breath. 

And then I get up, and I get on with life, despite the fact that on these days, I would rather pick up a gun and put it to my own head and pull the trigger - because it would hurt less. 

It's not the emotional - I've learned to live with that.  I've learned to live with the fact that when I take part in half of the things I enjoy, I'm going to pay for it physically for days on end because I've induced a brief flare.  I've learned to live with the fact that I can simply no longer take part in some things that I love doing, because the flare will be so severe it will probably wind me up in a hospital for several days begging for IV painkillers.

I truly understand those who live with the unmittigated pain of cancer and other various terminal illnesses, and their desire to end their own suffering while they're still capable of thinking with some semblance of reason.  While they're still capable of reacting to life, at least part of the time, with something coming remotely close to basic human dignity.

And it makes me want to go on a rampage against those bleeding heart fucktards who seem to think that Life Is Precious, regardless of it's quality or lack thereof.  Against doctors who would rather force someone to stay in a broken, useless shell indefinitely.  Against families who selfishly refuse to let someone go when it's past time for them to go, and insist on keeping them attached to some fucking Machine in order to force their body to keep breathing, their heart to keep pumping, the nerve endings to keep agonizing.  Let them go.  Love them enough to fucking LET THEM GO AND GET IT OVER WITH.  Quit being a self absorbed piece of shit who's Honestly more worried about their own Brief mental anguish over the "loss" of a loved one.

Thoughts on extra income

I keep wondering, as I look unsuccessfully for a job outside the house to suppliment the failing business, just what I can and can't get away with to make some extra income.  (No smart assed remarks from the penis gallery about this, either, guys!)

Being the massive foodie that I am, and having at least some small touch of skill in the kitchen, I've been wondering just how much hassle it would be to start looking at doing something along the lines of pies, cakes, pastries, and cookies.  Everybody loves 'em.  And bake sales seem to work so well for various groups after all...

2 Women, 1 House, Lots of Guns

So my new roommate, who is also my long standing best friend, has finally finished getting moved into my house.  And we've even managed to get her hooked up to IRC, and into the chatroom, as of last night.

Only step remaining : get her addicted to Blogging.  Then my work of corrupting her completely will be done!

(Yes, she's as crazy as I am.  Though she's had somewhat better taste in men than I have in my recent history.)

So, meet Lisa, yall -  and yes, she bites too...

Blackberry or Crackberry?

Ok, so I've been using a Blackberry 8830 for a few years now, and I've gone through 3 of them in the time I've had one.  Which averages out to about 1.4 per year.

And now, the one that I've had for the past year is... you guessed it... dead.  I don't know what's wrong with it.  It hasn't had anything spilled on it.  It hasn't been dropped (recently lol) and it was working fine late last night when I got off the phone with a friend and headed to bed.

Only it won't do Anything.  It's showing emails that have come in - but I can't access them because it won't seem to recognize any button commands at all.  It rings, but I can't answer it, because it doesn't acknowledge that I've hit the Talk button to do so.

It's frustrating the living daylights out of me at this point, and I'm about ready to scream.

So if you happen to see a mushroom cloud over the Oklahoma City metro - no, it's not someone finally doing something about the idiot politicians in this state - it's just me, finally blowing my stack over cell phone problems.