Checking My "Pulse"

49 human beings.

Gone.

Tragedy is what this is, and oh, how it breaks my heart.

Hearing the news of the heartbreaking story of Orlando, Florida's active shooter situation this past weekend has left me with the feeling of stones in my stomach, and sharp words on my tongue. My heart goes out to the families affected by this one person's choice to take something so precious from so many, the gift of life. I cannot speak for others on how to feel, how to react, and how to process this terrible set of events, but I can tell you how it has forever molded me.

I am not straight. I am not gay. I am a woman who is in love with another woman, and we have a beautiful family together. I thank the God of my understanding that I am blessed with all that I have, and I am fortune to live in an area where it is more acceptable to not be heterosexual. The people that I surround myself with are beautiful, accepting, loving, wonderful people who actively want to be in my life, and for them all, I am grateful.

However, seeing something like this happen to my LGBTQ brothers and sisters triggers me to immediately respond with criticism and hate for those opposed to our way of life. I have to continue to remind myself that not all people are lucky enough to live in a place where their "difference" is acceptable; their love story is one of fear and loathing in other parts of the world. My heart breaks for those people who are too afraid to hold their loved one's hand out in public, who are reconciled to kiss a cheek rather than lips, and make sure that they are not touching too long, or standing too close for fear that someone might see.

It's shameful that in 2016 this fear still lurks ever present among us. My gut instinct is to shame those that treat us as criminals, as monsters, as less than. But I also pity them. Closed-mindedness is suffocating, it chokes our souls of the beauty of all that we have and all that we were given and replacing it with cold, dark hate. I feel sorry for those who cannot and will not allow themselves to know the beauty of diversity and acceptance.

I will try to honor those 49 beautiful people who lost their lives in Orlando, and all of the victims of abuse and ridicule from the homophobic and intolerant, by continuing to be the person that I am, trying to educate those who do not understand that the LGBTQ community are made up of regular human beings just like they are, and that we are more than our sexuality. We are your family, your friends. We are your teachers, grocers, dentists, doctors, lawyers, neighbors. We like to binge watch Netflix and have bbqs, take our dogs to the dog park, and go to the beach. We are from all regions, all countries, all nationalities.

We can coexist. The value of our lives does not devalue yours.

Velvet Verbosity's 100 Word Challenge - Misbehave

She diverts her eyes, turns and backs away slowly, receding to the outlying safe zone.

The barks of demand fill the space and cloyingly linger in the air.  

“Give me.”  “I want.” “I’ll take.” “Can I get?”

The crowd finally parts, her goal in sight.  

Jumping into the fray, cutting through the sea of creatures laying in wait, she arrives at the end of the line to claim her prize.  

Plastic on plastic creates a *pop* when it enters the milky, sticky, caffeinated liquid inside. She takes a sip, swallows.  Eyes closed, she owns her guilty-pleasure delight.  

Yum.

***
I am participating in Velvet Verbosity's 100 Word Challenge. This is my first writing challenge/prompt that I've done in quite some time, so I apologize for being rusty!  

The theme this week is "Misbehave".

Also, I'm technologically inept, and couldn't figure out the linky tools so if anyone ever reads this, please let me know how I can get it to work! Thanks and enjoy!

Typical 2015 Post

What's up, kids?  How's life been treating you?  You won the lottery?! That's awesome.  You went and traveled abroad, neglecting the hum drum life of the states?  Good for you!!

Me? I plead the fifth.

Forgive me, but I suck at this game.  Please insert the normal this is the new year and the new me and the new, old blog blah blah blah here.

I'm going to jump right in to my topic at hand.

I've been suffering from insomnia lately, which is probably due to the fact that I partake in little to know physical exercise throughout the day, and drink way too much caffeine that does not burn off in anyway.  This has been going on for months now, and every night is more excruciating than the last.

Last night, I actually managed to fall asleep early (mostly in part to a white noise app on my phone where I magically mixed the sounds of a thunderstorm, the ocean, and some rain all together to create an unrealistically soothing sound of some tragic rain forest).

At one thirty seven a.m. I was awoken to the sound of screaming coming from the apartment next to mine.  These are not the drug dealers that I had referenced previously, but another set of crappy people juxtaposed against my wanna-be quiet and unassuming life.  

Last night is not the first time that this has happened, but it was the first time that I'd been woken out of a sound sleep because of it

The reason for this post is really my musings about whether I should alert the police to the possible domestic violence/noise violations that are occurring in my neck of the woods.  Living in the ghetto, I have been pondering the pros and cons of knocking on the door or banging on the wall and telling them to shut the fuck up... 90% of my brain tells me it's not a good idea.

Does anyone have any experience with this situation, and if so, what advice or story can you share with me?  Did you get shot through the wall?  Did it resolve the situation?  Let's gab like heterosexual girlfriends, and tell me everything, spare no detail!

Reading is Fun with a Capital F!

I don't remember if I've broached the subject of Game of Thrones with you readers, but let me tell you that "A Dance With Dragons" has become the bane of my existence.  I've been trying to read it for approximately a year, and have only made it through half of the book.  It's currently acting as a prop for the fan in my room that my girlfriend and I need to use in order to avoid drowning in sweat throughout the night.  (My apartment complex charges an additional $20 a month for a second AC unit... can you believe that? GTFO of here.)  

My second "vacation" of 2014 was extremely instrumental in kick starting what I used to think of as a behavior as necessary as breathing:  reading books!

Not only have I started reading books again, but I've been reading with gusto, reading like it's an Olympic sport!  During Memorial Day Weekend, I read three books, collectively over 1000 pages with varying degrees of difficulty. 

The first book I read was "The Husband List" by Janet Evanovich.  While it was entertaining and kept my attention, it wasn't one of her better stories.  It was cute, an adorable-but-predictable love story about the girl who is destined to marry the Duke but is in love with the bad boy.  Cute, but already done a hundred times over. 

The second book that I read was a beautifully written story called "Perfect Match" by Jodi Piccoult.  Now, Let me be the first person to say that Jodi Piccoult is so much more than just a writer, she's a creator, a painter of life portraits so realistic that you can see the world clear as day on hundreds of black and white pages. Unfortunately, Piccoult has set the bar extensively high, and though "Perfect Match" was amazing, it didn't quite reach "The Pact", "House Rules", or my personal favorite, "Handle With Care".

Third book that I read this weekend was "The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green.  

I'm not sure whether I was so desperate to read this because of the whispers through crowds overheard about the pain that would come with the end of the novel, or the hypnotic chemistry of the teenage characters from the movie trailer that haunts my living room, but as soon as Mosski told me that she had a copy, I jumped at the chance (literally jumped out of my seat at work) to borrow it from her. 

My thoughts about this young adult fiction is that, while it's a beautifully tragic love story that portrays an honest depiction of humanity, I was hoping for just a little bit more. 

These are three wonderfully written books by extremely amazing writers.  Why, then, am I finding myself equally let down by such a slight margin?  It's not as if these were horrific let downs, after weeks or years of waiting patiently for new releases.  These were (mostly) books I read out of sheer happenstance.  

I don't know the reason.  I really don't.  I do know, though, that I'm making a commitment to read more this year.  Maybe I'll find out the reason for my doubts, or maybe I will find that one book that is going to completely change my life.  

That Prairie Life -- Iowa

I took a trip recently -- packed my bags, paid for my plane ticket, made it through security and sat through two flights that inevitably took me to the current residence of one of the most wonderful humans that I've ever met, Megan.

I wanted to regale you all with my witty accounts of Prairie life, bringing to fruition all of the nuances of Mid-West living, but it turns out that the information that I did get would bore you to tears.  This is not to say that the great state of Iowa was boring, but the content of said blog would be just too dry to stomach in non-fiction.

That's why I've decided to take the notes I made during my trip and turn it into a fictional story that I will publish here shortly.  I know, the three of you that probably still read this are probably over the moon ecstatic about this news.  We'll see how it comes out.

In the interim, I wanted to post a few pictures that I took that are sure to make your life better (and distract from the fact that I didn't actually post anything of note in this whole post so far).

MC Hammer called and wanted his pants back. o.O

I hate to admit that this happened.  He was part of a group that I'd like to call the JPOP Invasion.  The entire back of my plane was Asians who were too cool for me (except for maybe this guy and his parachute-butt pants).

Charlotte, NC has ROCKING CHAIRS all over their airport.  I was blown away by this.  They take their southern hospitality VERY seriously.

This happened, because I really had no idea where IOWA was on a map.  Sad, right?

Made friends with the neighbors and their kids. :) 

This is the newest love of my life.  Please meet Ellie/Lady-not-Bird.  

This was the most beautiful picture I took of Iowa, and I was so pleased in how it came out.  No filter, no accentuation.  Just beautiful landscape.

Seriously, Iowa was so beautiful.  I wish I was there a few weeks later than I was because I can only imagine what it will look like when the crops grow in, the fields turn green, and the contrast between open sky and open fields shows itself on the Prairie.  

There is a Buffalo Preserve out on the Prairie.  Sadly my animal whisperer skills were not honed in to the Iowan Buffalo.  They didn't come near us, so we took a picture of the statue instead. 

Just in case you needed a little more "cute" before you left. <3

Apartment Life Deductions

Not too long ago, I wrote that I just moved into an apartment and everything was fine except for the fact that I thought people were coming up the stairs to murder me in my bed.  

I know you were all concerned.  Thankfully, I've mostly gotten over that.  (Everyday A, you were right! I'm starting to learn.)

I've also recently written about Chance, the newest love of my life.

Something that I have noticed on during my first few weeks exploring my apartment complex with Chance, my neighbors are Shady with a capital S.

I'm pretty sure there's a drug ring in one of the apartments on our walk route.  I know that's a terrible accusation to say right off the bat, but these stereotypical moments just keep occurring and repeating in my head.

Chance and I mind our own business while I try to coax him to pee before both of us catch frost bite outside.  Well, I say WE mind our business, but Chance actually doesn't; he is more than happy to stare at every single person or animal in his line of sight, without shame.  Me? I'm standing there with my head down, looking at my phone, hoping no one will jump me for it while I'm trying to be inconspicuous.

Whenever someone does catch my eye, though, I always smile and wave.  I do not want to be the one they come looking for when they get Narc'd out.  I want to be the friendly neighbor with her dog that pretends to know nothing but secretly is on to them, and writing blogs about it anonymously.

Yep, that's me.

Chance, the Rescued Beagle

Welcome to the family, Chance the Rescue Beagle. 

I just wanted to take the time to let everyone know that life as I know it is over.  My heart has been stolen by this little face.  (Don't tell my girlfriend.)

This is Chance, formerly known as Christian Bale, a "Celebrity Beagle" rescued from a research lab by the Happy Paws Rescue located in South Plainfield, NJ.  He was rescued with a bunch of other dogs and they are all looking for good homes (except for Chance b/c he's mine!!!!).  

I haven't had a dog in a while, so we'll see what kind of things are going to change after the rose-colored glasses are gone.  

So far on the list of harsh realities:

*Chance is not house trained, as I was previously led to believe.  It's fine, and something that we are working on daily, but every day is like coming home to find out whether or not Doctor Jekyll or Mister Hyde is going to come skittishly out of his crate.  If it's Doctor Jekyll, he is sure to be covered in poop.

(Silver lining? I bought this cookie dough shampoo that makes him smell DELISH. Yum.)

*Chance does not like to poop outside, ok, fine, neither do I.  However, with the fact that Mother Nature decided to dump on us this winter, it's making life very difficult. Neither of us want to be outside freezing our paws off, but only one of us knows what to do out there in order to rush back inside. 

*Helen and I are the biggest mushes in the history of life.  This dog can go nuts, but as soon as he looks at us, we're done.  Whatever he wants, the sky is the limit (until he shits in the house again).

Here goes nothing, kids!