Its a Rainbow World, Baby, Be Apart of It

It really is a world full of rainbows. The more I think about what is happening in my life, the more I realize I am so utterly confused about rainbows-in-all-possible-ways01how humans got to be where we are. Last year I tried going to Gay Pride with Occupy Vancouver and Anonymous and as you all now know for a really awful reason it didn’t work out. We spent the money we got online trying to do a fundraiser to raise more money for our float. As it turned out we were left with a bunch of props and angry volunteers. The day of the event after being told not to show up, I get a call telling me they need me to show up because I had to sign them in, only not only was I on my way out of town, and unable to get back in time, I had given the man who had taken over everything he needed. A clusterfuck of events meant that I left a lot of people high and dry.

The beginning of the end started when a group of people told my friends and I that we couldn’t have our dance because they don’t support homosexuality. This confounds me. I mean really, who cares? What someone does in their bedroom or who they do it with is no ones business, is your life so empty and lonely sad and pathetic that you really must spend it spreading hate instead of love?

You all know this I am not a Christian. However I value the Christian Morals;

Be kind to each other, love each other, treat everyone as you wish to be treated. If that is how Christians are supposed to act, then I suppose there are a lot of Christians who want to be hated, because some of them can be very mean awful people. I guess we all can, I know I have my moments where I lash out but at the very end of the day I try my damnedest to make sure I leave more love in the world then I take.

This is why I am suing a Church.

I am Suing a Church.

I don’t like those words, I hate those words. I hate that I have to fight against a group that I have known since I was fifteen. For the best part of my life I have known these people and worked with these people. I have seen these people be mean and awful and I know that what I am doing is the right thing to do, because No person should ever feel unloved because of their race, sex, creed, nationality or sexual preference.

No Person Should Grow Up Not Knowing How To Love Themselves.

When I was growing up I was taught that God Loves All of his Children. I wasn’t taught that God picks and chooses, I was taught that we were all the children of God and as such should treat each other like brothers and sisters. I treat my dishes with more respect then I have seen out of these “Good Christian People” I have seen atrocities I never thought I would see from anyone let alone a Church.

Emotionally I am drained, and I am sad. I have no idea what is going to happen with this court case but what I do know for sure is this:

1. I know I am doing the right thing – defending those who should not need to be defended for being who God make them to be.

2. No matter the outcome there will always be a sour taste in my mouth.

With that being said, I hope that my higher power will stand by me and keep me strong when I falter, because without that I am nothing.

Syn

 

 

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First Time

I have been a writer for a very long time. I have always shied away from any kind of writing community though. I decided tonight, that I needed to do something different, just to see if I could. So here we go, This is my entry for the WordPress.Com weekly writing challenge. I hope you enjoy.

couple-embraceImagine for a moment if you could, what it means to fall in love with a person you have never met before. A person who amazes you, inspires you…pushes you and questions you in all of the best ways. A Person who is equally as fascinated by you as you are of them;

Imagine for a moment if you can, a connection that is so perfect you almost don’t need to speak, to express how you feel because they already know. Even if you yourself are unaware yet, or if your unable to say the words. Imagine if you have waited for hour’s day’s weeks and months to be with the person you love.

Neither of you have any idea of whether or not it is going to last, if it is that through the trees out of the park, into the sky heading for space kind of love and both of you are aware it doesn’t matter.

Because what matters is the now, every second you can hear their voice, every moment that you get to spend together, every reminder that says simply “I’m thinking of you”

That is what this picture says to me.

In my mind this is a couple who have never met before. Yet everything that matters they know and understand about the other person.

They have no fear of each other because they spent six months getting to know each other. A Connection was built through a box made of wires and plastic and little bits of metal.

Day by day that connection grew, day by day that connection turned from mutual respect to friendship to like to love.

This is the day they first meet. When they can look into each other’s eyes and not need to say a word because everything has already been said.

Every word, every thought, every projection of emotion has already verbally expressed.

Now instead of words they use touch. They kiss each other’s lips, hold each other’s hands. He runs his fingers across her face, her fingers slide through his hair. Their eyes close only when exhaustion prevents them from staying open longer.

They embrace and they refuse to let go because every second that they stop touching is a second closer to when one of them has to say goodbye.

Every second that they stop embracing is a moment lost, a memory dissipated.

By now they will have stood outside for ten minutes hugging, when they could be inside making love or making dinner, watching a movie or simply enjoying each other’s company.

However neither care, because really everything they need, everything they want is exactly where they stand…in each other’s arms.

First Time

This was for a wordpress.com writing challenge – Had to write a 1000 word piece on this picture. Didn’t really need a thousand words. 

couple-embrace

Imagine for a moment if you could, what it means to fall in love with a person you have never met before. A person who amazes you, inspires you…pushes you and questions you in all of the best ways. A Person who is equally as fascinated by you as you are of them;

Imagine for a moment if you can, a connection that is so perfect you almost don’t need to speak, to express how you feel because they already know. Even if you yourself are unaware yet, or if your unable to say the words. Imagine if you have waited for hour’s day’s weeks and months to be with the person you love.

Neither of you have any idea of whether or not it is going to last, if it is that through the trees out of the park, into the sky heading for space kind of love and both of you are aware it doesn’t matter.

Because what matters is the now, every second you can hear their voice, every moment that you get to spend together, every reminder that says simply “I’m thinking of you”

That is what this picture says to me.

In my mind this is a couple who have never met before. Yet everything that matters they know and understand about the other person.

They have no fear of each other because they spent six months getting to know each other. A Connection was built through a box made of wires and plastic and little bits of metal.

Day by day that connection grew, day by day that connection turned from mutual respect to friendship to like to love.

This is the day they first meet. When they can look into each other’s eyes and not need to say a word because everything has already been said.

Every word, every thought, every projection of emotion has already verbally expressed.

Now instead of words they use touch. They kiss each other’s lips, hold each other’s hands. He runs his fingers across her face, her fingers slide through his hair. Their eyes close only when exhaustion prevents them from staying open longer.

They embrace and they refuse to let go because every second that they stop touching is a second closer to when one of them has to say goodbye.

Every second that they stop embracing is a moment lost, a memory dissipated.

By now they will have stood outside for ten minutes hugging, when they could be inside making love or making dinner, watching a movie or simply enjoying each other’s company.

However neither care, because really everything they need, everything they want is exactly where they stand…in each other’s arms.

 

Who Am I?

Let’s clear something up right now. I’m not any kind of “ist” or “ian.” I stand up for what the fuck I believe in, and that doesn’t fall into the constructs of any party or group. It is what it is. Deal with it.

@ Break Beat Junkee

This was posted by a friend of mine today and in light of everything I want for Skin n Bones (global) it was just so well said I had to re-post it here.

As human beings we are constantly trying to figure out who or what we are. People put each other into these ridiculous redundant categories of being as if it actually means anything.

It really means nothing.

Who you are is not WHAT you do. How you live your life should not be defined by what category people put you in.

That may seem an overly simple way of saying “be yourself” when many of you may not know who that self is. However my friend Carol reads this blog and she is always telling me how genuine she feels I am. That is important to me that she feels that way, but her feelings of my writing or my show do not define me.

Her daughter recently died and all I can think is that if only that poor child could see the light beyond the dark, maybe if she didn’t feel a need to fit in, or feel accepted perhaps she would still be here. What I know for a fact is that the death of a young girl has inspired a friendship I hope stands for many years to come with a woman I admire very very much. So to all of you trying to figure out who or what you are, here is my very simple answer.

You are:

beautiful strong wonderful kind lovely amazing brilliant stunning silly goofy silly happy sad alive and courageous. You are everything you need to be at any moment in time and with that being said I say conquer the universe because you have it in you…if you’ll just stop trying to “Fit in” 

Syn and BBJ

Touching Hearts

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant.

It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting a big “F” at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s past records and she put Teddy’s off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners… he is a joy to be around..”

His second grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.”

His third grade teacher wrote, “His mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn’t show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken.”

Teddy’s fourth grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.”

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy’s. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper That he got from a grocery bag Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume.. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, “Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.” After the children left, she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her “teacher’s pets..”

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling* her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer…. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson’s ear, “Thank you Mrs. Thompson for* believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.”

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, “Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.”

(For you that don’t know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist Hospital in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

Warm someone’s heart today. . . pass this along. I love this story so very much, I cry every time I read it. Just try to make a difference in someone’s life today? tomorrow? Just “do it”.

Random acts of kindness, I think they call it?

“Believe in Angels, then return the favor.”

~Reposted from Facebook

What exactly is, Anonymous?

Twitter is an interesting place. It’s one of those weird places on the web, where you can meet some cool people, some crazy people and some people who make you wonder if life is worth living. Then there are like a thousand other catagories people fall into…I guess. There is a lot of Anon talk on Twitter, and to be honest I follow and even enjoy conversing with several anons. Many are people I consider good friends, and some are people who’s tweets or blogs I enjoy reading.

Lately I have been asked this question a lot “Do you Support Anonymous” to be honest with you, I am not so sure where I stand on that line any more. I used to, with my whole heart….then some shit happened and I didn’t and now, that line is becoming more and more muddy.

Someone whom I admire, says she doesn’t get me, which is really what led me to my post, it is my hope that by writing my thoughts out I may better understand where I stand and how I feel because lets face it, it’s Saturday and this seems like a more interesting idea then cleaning my house.

Today a well known Anon supporter/member/labelhimwhatever was called a Terrorist. Whatever your feelings on Anonymous this should offend you, not only as an American Citizen but as a human being.

It seems today anyone and everyone can be called a Terrorist if they do not acquiesce to the American Government’s idea of how their citizens should behave. This should -ha ha- terrify you, to your very core. It should make you want to pick up your children and run as far as you possibly can.

Once upon a time the word Terrorist was used sparingly. It described men who took over planes, and crashed them into buildings not caring who they hurt, it described serial killers and child rapists. It described a personality trait that was devoid of the ability to understand or empathize with the human spirit.

Once upon a time a Terrorist was someone who killed without reason or feeling, who didn’t care who or what they hurt, and who made as big a mess as possible hurting as many as possible.

Now it describes a 13-20 something male or female, who usually can be found sitting at a computer or out at a protest, screaming for freedom and defending the rights of their countrymen with signs and ddos protests.

Um….Escuse me?

So your telling me that a kid who sits at a computer, (or goes to a protest) who tries to share information, and doesn’t believe in pretending the world is perfect, who stands up when they see something is wrong, is a terrorist? Why because they wear a mask?!

Here is what I think a lot of people need to understand. The mask isn’t about hiding your face, it never was. Not really. It was about showing solidarity with the idea of change, with the idea that the people in power no longer care about the single parent families, or orphaned children, the people in power stopped caring about the rape victims and the sexual predator victims a long time ago.

Eventually someone was going to say enough is enough, Eventually someone was going to stand up and say if the Government wants to scare us into doing as we’re told we’re going to stand up and say Fuck you and do what we know is right. They have chosen to be allow themselves to be called terrorists, they have chosen to be ridiculed and hassled, beaten and spit upon because they chose to believe in something bigger then themselves.

I guess maybe in a way I do support Anonymous.

I don’t support dumps of personal information – don’t get me wrong. I do not think that releasing some innocent dudes credit card number to the world is really going to do a whole lot for freedom.

I guess I do feel safer though knowing that there are people out there in the world, ready to stand up when a rape victim is beaten down. Ready to share information when CNN tells us one thing and it turns out to be government lies, and mostly I guess I do believe in the fact that humans have a right to know what their governments are doing, since you know we do pay their salaries  and they are legally supposed to be working for us.

What I do not believe in is random people governments included, tarnishing a good mans name and reputation, calling that good man a Terrorist simply because he didn’t do as he was told.

Jeremy Hammond got fucked over by Sabu – He’s in prison now. His very last words to me the night before he was v% were “I trusted the wrong person” I didn’t know what he meant until it was too late. I’m sorry Crim. I’m so sorry.

Aaron Swartz is dead now. I guess a computer genius with the belief that freedom of information was terrifying to the government too.

Oh and lets not forget Barrett Brown. The guy was an idiot, a pain in my ass and he drove me nuts damned near every time we spoke, I wanted to punch him the face. He’s annoying as fuck, but what is happening to him is wrong, and yeah I ain’t gonna lie, I miss the SOB. I’m sorry this happened to you Barrett. You don’t deserve this.

So no I am not Anonymous, I don’t even like them really, but I do understand where they are coming from, and you know what? They aren’t half bad for the most part. Victims of the idea of change and freedom.

The fight for freedom is changing because our world is changing, it looks different and feels different. It’s being fought with computer hacks and defaces, ddos attacks and public peaceful protests. Its nothing different then what has been happening for oh the last ten thousand years. But it doesn’t make them terrorists. It makes them human.

Just my two cents.

Syn

-Edit-

I have unlocked comments, because I’d like to hear what you guys think about this, what are your thoughts on Anons and Terrorists?! Post below.

Self Validation

I am a mother.

He would be about six years old today.

His name would be Conner.

His would have been father is in prison.

His mother is a basket case of insanity trying to understand how to fit safely in an unperfect world.

He is dead.

I am a Mother.

I loath and detest mommy blogs. I hate them because I feel like it is this great amazing beautiful secret club that I just do not get to be a part of. So many of my friends tell me how lucky I am, not to be chained to an abusive bastard. I don’t have to worry about paying food or rent, diapers or formula. I am so lucky I have free time on my hands. I am so lucky I do not have to worry every second of every day about my child. I am lucky they say because think about how life would be if I had a child. Think about how hard and how difficult it would be.

They mean well, but really what do you say to a woman who has lost a child?

How do you deal with that pain and that loss? This is how.

First you let it wash over you, and you allow it to take you under.

You think about every second of every day that should be spent making bottles, changing diapers, teaching and being fascinated by your son. You watch women and men swear yell and scream at their children to behave, and wonder why they get to have their kids and you don’t get yours. You watch happy families, sad families, broken families and you smile and coo and pretend that it doesn’t bother you.

You listen as your friends talk about what it is like to deal with healthy kids, sick kids and sad kids, happy kids and scared kids. You listen mostly to what they don’t say. How they won’t talk about the important things because their afraid you will break.

I think the first day of school was the worst. So many of your friends take their children to school, or the beach, to play in the park or for walks in the sunlight. You don’t get to do any of that, because although your a mother, your not a mom, not really.

You don’t worry about any of the things that other moms have to worry about because your a mother, but your not a mom.

This is why I hate mommy blogs. Why I don’t read them, or share them or talk about them. It is simply too hard.

Because you see, I am a mother…but not really.

There are some amazing mothers out there, some great wonderful mothers, and some even better moms, but to those of you who have ever lost a child, you do not stop being a mom just because your child is gone.

I can’t promise that it gets better though, because I haven’t experienced that yet.

If any of you out there have lost a child and learned to deal with it, if you could show me how you did it, I would very much appriciate that.

Syn