Archive for February, 2012


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Rules.

I haven’t really felt like writing on this blog over the past few weeks.  Perhaps that is a good thing.  My soul doesn’t seem to hurt like it use to.  I have other projects that I have been spending hundreds of hours on and they are starting to take on a shape and form. 

This has been very exciting for me.

I am still spending numerous hours on my client files.  I met someone today that has six DUIs and lived at a mission.  He is only a few years older than myself.  He is highly educated but he feels no joy for his work.  He filled his holes with alcohol at the expense of his family.  He says he is better and won’t relapse.  I don’t believe his words but I hope they are true ones.  
He is bent on defining his ex-wife.  What she should and should not do.

I have so many thoughts on the current controversy concerning women having the right to birth control and their right to have an abortion.  Their sexual freedom. 
I find it funny that it is mostly men that want to make this decision for them.

I told my father the other day, “I thank the divine everyday that I wasn’t a woman born in the 1800s and that I wasn’t born a slave.”

Why are men so afraid to allow a woman this freedom?  Why does it strike such a nerve?

The right to decide to be a mother and when.  The right to decide the father of the child.
(We all know the decision to have sex is not the same as deciding to get pregnant)
Why do men scoff and shake the Bible.  Why deny the right for a woman to have sex as much as she wants with whomever she chooses.

Why are these men fighting to take this decision away?  What is their motivation? 
(Why did the white men want to keep Fredrick Douglass from learning to read or write?)

You want us to believe it is really about the right of an unborn baby when we have thousands upon thousands of children in orphanages and foster care?
 
Nobody has the right to define me without my consent.   I have my own rules.  I don’t have the right to define someone else.  I choose whom I want to be.  I chose the when and the where.  If I want to be a CEO, become a doctor, join the military, or be a stay-at-home mother I should have the right to decide.   I make it happen.  I decide how many children are going to grow in my body.  I chose the father I want for them.  If I change my mind and don’t want to be married or linked to their father I have the right to leave him without him trying to kill them or me.

Society and men do not have the right to tell me what to do or what to be.  They do not have the right to place a value on who I am and what I want to do.   

They keep trying.  I am fighting back.  You stupid and weak women (they use your nature of goodness and nurturing against you). 

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He secretly tapes women having sex with him without their knowledge.   It is not a consensual taping.  He does this with numerous women.  He lures them into a dating relationship.  They have expectations of a sincere romance and he uses it against them to feed his sickness.

Another man lures her into his hotel room for after dinner drinks.  When she changes her mind and asks to leave he violates her.

She has a daughter age 12.  He dates her to get to her daughter.  When she is at work he continues to violate the child until the child tries to kill herself.

He calls her a cunt and a lazy bitch because she wants to stay home and mother their children.  So when she decides to get a law degree he calls her a cunt and a lazy bitch and a horrible mother because she is working and never home.
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Amy says there are good men out there.  O.K. I do have a few good men surrounding me.  These men are rare and hard to find.  I see examples of the bad ones in the news, in the courtroom, and in my personal experiences.  Who would want to have their child?  Who would want to marry them?  Who would want to be their wife and mother their children?  Men who refuse to pay child support for years and years (just go down to any circuit court on a show cause day).  They drink, gamble, hit their wives, sleep with prostitutes, generate non-consensual sex tapes, quit their jobs so they won’t have to pay child support, verbally abuse, mislead and rape.

You fraudulent fucks.  Lacking in any decency, strength and character. 
You don’t think we can’t figure you out? 

I see you.  I totally understand and get it.

I am reminded by a very intelligent friend, “Jodi… and we live in polite society.”

Darwin is why we have the pills. 

Maybe that’s why they are afraid.

My rules.  I decide. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Pieces.

It’s not that my thoughts are usually scattered.  I am generally a very focused person.  I like to think that I control my thoughts.  Sometimes topics are submerged deep and then they float or suddenly pop to the surface.  They must have a need for air like small grey beluga whales.

I am finding people offer me different and shiny pieces.  I like parts of them.  I like a set of big beautiful green eyes just like I am finding myself getting lost in a set of soft brown ones. 
Hands are basically the same.  Some fingers are longer than others or the palms bigger or smaller. Noses and ears have different shapes.  Some are tall.  Some are short.  They all are smart, witty, and so very charming.

All of these choices.  How does one choose.  Why should I have to?  

I am thinking I don’t want to chose anything or anyone.  I just want to float and see where my inner tube takes me.  I like this river.  It is warm in spots and cooler in others.  I am free to drift.  I like the pull of this current.  I love spending time with those I care about and adore.

Some days I miss safe and familiar.  Some days I crave adventure and variety. 
Amy and I discuss the taking from a this or a that.  Building our own man.  Giving him everything we would want. 

I know myself so well that I know after he was built I would want to knock him down.  I would have to reconstruct him.  I would change.  He wouldn’t be what was needed.   If he wants too much of my attention I find myself running away.  If he withholds his attention I am trying to pull it from him.

He tells me I need too much of his attention.  He cannot give it to me.  He doesn’t have it in him. I deserve more.  I know what he is doing.

I am in that very same spot. 

I think he and I are exactly the same.  We are not the same.

He finds joy in a conquest.  I find joy in safe company.

He says all his other women text, call and come to his home but I will only call him back months at a time.  He feels very comfortable with me.  We should spend the night together.

He says that I am intriguing.  That I am deep and have many layers.  He respects that.  We should go to a movie, put the arm rest up, and after go to a quaint little pub.

He says he understands me.

 

I will think of them as pieces.  They float up and they will float away.  I am what they want for a moment.  Then I am not what they thought I should be.  They don’t know what they want or they are changing their minds.  They want to get close— just not that close.

I think of tinker toys, potato heads and legos.  The solving of a rubrics cube. 
Once the colors match or the thing is constructed there is no more adventure. 
Men, like children, discarding a boring old toy.

Familiar and safe becomes dull and non interesting.   

So I think about a rediscovery and learning how to ride a motorcycle.