Happy New Year -- A Year in Pictures

I've come so far during this past year, made so many changes in 2012, that I feel like a new(er) woman.

And looking back on the past 365 days I:

Packed up my son, sold 93% of my belongings, and moved to VA for a job

Confronted some old demons and finally got the last word

Was able to bring to light my shameful struggles

Said good bye to old friends, made room for the new

Celebrated marriages

Mourned deaths

Held new life

Started "Once Upon A Southern Fairy Tale" to be published this year

Passed on my love of graveyards

And made the most kick ass costume

Rediscovered an old love, that time apart didn't diminish things

     I changed the dynamics within the my relationship with my parents, took better control of my anxieties, and braved through some rotten days.

2012, it was nice knowing ya.  2013 bring it on!

I Will Not Break

Disclaimer for trolls reading this post: 

My writings tonight are not

 (nor have ever been) a cry for pity or sympathy.  

It's just me talking about how my fucked up head 

deals with stuff that happens in my life. 

 That's how I've always intended this blog to be.

I started hurting myself again tonight.

I lost two friends in the matter of 3 days.

I was publicly stomped on by a troll, but when I dared to defend myself, my now use to be friends advised me to stop writing for the public to read, that I should take down everything I've ever written about my ex.

Yesterday I was numb, today I was beating myself up.  Could there be things so awful that I had written that I don't recall?  Am I really so angry that I fail to realize that everything I write is about him?

So tonight as I realized I needed to write out my pain, rather than try to bleed it out of myself, I dove head first into the search engine on my blog.  I needed to see how many times I had allegedly  "misrepresented (my) ex-fiance."

You know how many times I made barest mention of my ex?  3 times.  In the span of 186 posts.

• engaged and ditched at the alter,
• I'm doing TONS better about the whole ex-fiance thing.  It's not like ending a relationship with a boyfriend, for heavens sake, I was ready to pledge my live to him!
• I hate that when my fiancee dumped me at the alter, claiming that I was not trustworthy and would probably have an affair, still angers me.  He came from a broken family, which saddens my heart.  He had problems that he was unable to see, but I still loved that foolish boy.  I know that I would not make the same mistakes and get involved with someone so damaged, but I am still afraid of trusting someone again.

For the love of cookie dough, I didn't even devote an entire post to him!  These are the only things I've publicly shared.

I'm not a bad person.  Looking at it now, I don't think I'm that angry about that relationship either.  If I were, shouldn't more of my writings be devoted to my angst/torch bearing to my ex, as I was accused by the troll.

I'm sad all this unnecessary drama has been stirred up.  I'm sad that a poisonous troll had such power over friends who have known me for over 13 years. 

I'm sorry that my words, spoken in confidence, where used against me.

So no, I won't stop writing.  I won't make my writings private.  Because I said nothing wrong in the first place.

Now I just need to convince my brain to let go of the hurt so I can stop the bleeding on my skin. 

Mexico and Cuba Get Pope'd

Yes, I know it's been for fucking ever since I've written and yes, I've broken my own promise to write every damn day, but what can I say? Depression is a lying bastard:

Being treated with a cocktail of meds that quit working didn't fucking help. Fortunately, the med situation has been cleared up and I'm back to being myself. Yet, I've been afraid to pick up the pen, errrr, keyboard.

But when my Cousin asked me to back him up on an argument, I spent an hour constructing these arguments without fretting if I sounded stupid. I was writing from the heart and I didn't give a rat's ass if I was writing a rough draft of a terrible sounding argument, I just wanted it out.

Here's how is started: A distant cousin stated on Teh Book of Face that "The Pope didn't have "time" to meet with any Cubans like the Damas de Blanco and other human rights activists, but he did make sure to save plenty of time for Fidel and Raul. #AshamedToBeCatholic"

Responses of included the sexual misconduct of some members of the clergy, which wasn't even the point of the Pope's visit. Reading these responses got me going, so this is what flowed from my brain. Warning: this post is a metric fuck-ton long, so if you quit half way through I get it. But these are my fucking diatribes and I'll write whatever the hell I want.

"Hi XXXX and YYYY, I'm gonna butt into this argument. I usually try to refrain from arguments on FB b/c I like to keep my politics outside of my "social media" friends. But as a writer/blogger/editor, I am calling you out. Mi primo, Javier Camps, this is for you.

Point 1--With the issue of the Pope not "visiting with real Cubans": The Pope is the leader of a nation, Vatican City, an official doucumented country recognized worldwide. In addition, he is the head of the Catholic Church. As a leader of a "state" he is correct in meeting with the heads of the "state" of Cuban. Benedict openly criticized Communism and called for the reformation of the system, along with urging religious freedom.

The 85 y.o. pontiff suffers from EXTREME high blood pressure and has been told in the past that he should not travel by air, as the altitude reached during flight could cause him to stroke. The Pope's commitment to spreading the message of Christ by visiting a country where personal freedoms have been quashed for decades shows his willingness to sacrifice his health.

His travels to Mexico have been called by the press as "brief but intense." He arrived in Mexico at 4:12 pm Central Standard Time on Friday 23 and left Monday the 26 at 6AM. There is an 8 hr time difference between Rome and Mexico. Now, I'm hot to trot at just turning 31, but there is no fucking way that I could make my body adjust to an 8 hr time change in 3 days, and I'm betting neither of you could also.

Security was a HUGE issue. The Pope celebrated a Mass before a crowd of 300,000 people. Each and EVERY one of those people had to be searched before entering the stadium where the Mass was. We would do the same for our President; to not afford the same level of protection that we demand for our head of state is to say that the human dignity of the Pope is less than our President. 

Point 2: Sexual Abuse:

This is a hot, volatile topic. I have first hand knowledge, as I have worked with the Church and the FBI to investigate allegations of sexual abuse and those who may come into contact with children. I am also a survivor of sexual abuse and rape (not by a member of the clergy, but someone who claimed to be a practicing Catholic), so I understand the gravity and the intense pain felt by those who have been raped/molested/abused.

Yes, there have been cover-ups. Bad priests have been shuffled around. Men of the collar who should have been thrown in jail alongside other rapists and pedophiles were unfortunately not held accountable.

There is not excusing this behavior. HOWEVER, if you are going to sling mud by singling out sexual misbehavior, you will find that you lose your ground very quickly.

I DEFY YOU to name me a Protestant, Muslim, Buddist, Toaist, Jewish, Hindu or any other religious sect that has not perpetrated crimes against children and has not covered it up. You can't, just like you can't say that our government leaders haven't covered up their sexual misconducts the same way.

Archbishop Silvano Tomasi, the Vatican's permanent observer to the UN, defended its record by claiming that "available research" showed that only 1.5%-5% of Catholic clergy were involved in child sex abuse.Statistics from the Christian Scientist Monitor newspaper to show that most US churches being hit by child sex abuse allegations were Protestant and that sexual abuse within Jewish communities was common.

The Church is in the process of cleaning out. They have admitted to the faults and errors and are working to make amends. No other religious group is being so openly transparent at this time, yet the Catholic Church remains faithful to it's current mission.

Point 3: The Catholic Faith

The Catholic Church is run by fallaible, fallen, sinful, men and women. No one is exempt, as by default we are stained with Original Sin at birth/conception. All of us, as Catholic men and women, make up the Chruch. We are a collective, one Body in Christ. We have an "elected official" i.e. the Pope who is the "governor" of the Catholic Church, who sets rules and sees that they are followed. Just as we Americans elect our President to set forth rules and sees that they are followed.

Are all of our American rules fair and just all the time? Is justice being served at every moment here? No, not at all. Take the Zimmerman case for example. Where is the justice?

As a Catholic we put our faith into action by making an Act of Free Will "to hold these truths self-evident" (to quote the Founders of our County). We assent to the belief that the Pope cannot error on teaching on Faith and Morals. That does not mean that the Pope/bishops/priests are exempt from making errors in judgement.

Being a Catholic is difficult. There are many rules to follow, teachings that are hard to understand, but as a Catholic, we MAKE the CHOICE to follow these rules. At any time, you are free to not follow the rules of the Church, but when you do so, please do not continue to call yourself a Catholic, for you are no more of a "real" Catholic than a member of the Harlem Globetrotters plays a "real" basketball game. (That analogy and this Point 3 argument is fully fleshed in this article. http://tinyurl.com/7lhqvqo) "

THE END 

Blood Is Thicker Than Water

It's one thing to fuck with me.  I can take shit that's been thrown at me.  Granted I might get really down, depressed, and feel plagued by demons of doubt, but I always bounce out of it.

But when it comes to my family, you don't fuck with them. We might have our problems with each other, we might speak ill of one another, but when it comes to someone attacking from the outside, you'd best be sure to run the other way. 

There is a world of shit that's coming down soon.

Rules: You're Doing It Wrong

This post deals with child rape, pedophiles, and religion. 

If you'd like to leave a comment, I will be moderating this time.

The opinion is mine.  I am entitled to it, just as you are to yours.

That being said, here goes. 

I am a church going Catholic.  I may not always understand or agree with some of the doctrine and teachings but I choose to still remain faithful to the Catholic Church.  Here's the way I look at it.  If you want to play regulation basketball there are certain rules that MUST be followed. No traveling, no double dribble, no shooting from the bleachers unless you are a member of the Harlem Globetrotters.

Motto: We Don't Need Your Stinkin' Rules

If you want to run in the 400 meter relay for the Olympics, you have to stay in your own lane and not cut through the center field.  If you're on Iron Chef and are told not to use any onions, then you can't use the fucking onions because it will disqualify you!

Now, I have NEVER claimed to be perfect, to follow all the rules all the time, to even like some of the rules.  I've broken some (See: Sex, Premarital), been tempted to break others (See: Theft, Do Not Do It), and at times really hated following others (See: The Sabbath, Go Celebrate It). For instance, some Sundays I'd rather bite off my finger than attend Mass; sometimes I'm in no mood to give thanks and celebrate The Lord's Ultimate Sacrifice because I'm in a bad mood or I really want to sit around in yoga pants and play on the Interwebz.   

However, I can choose to do or not do these things.  To follow or not follow the rules.  If I'm not following the rules then I'm not acting like a Catholic should act. And if I'd rather do push ups on the basketball court, rather than do a free throw, I'm not following the rules and therefore not playing basketball properly.

So I choose to remain a Catholic, even when I don't feel like it.  And when I've broken the rules, I (eventually) muster up the courage and humility to go to Confession.  That's it.  The Catholic Church, like other organizations whether it be sports, academic teams, or cooking contests, has a set of rules that must be followed if one wants to be considered a Catholic.

When it comes to the rules of priestly celibacy, Karl Keating states "It is true that Catholic priests in the West may not be married, but no one is obliged to become a priest. Marriage is not forbidden to them as human beings, but as priests. A Catholic man is free to choose the celibate priesthood, the married life, or even the single life (which also is celibate). Celibacy is forced on no one." (Emphasis mine). 

This vow is not easy and is not entered into lightly.  It means sacrificing progeny, companionship and physical comfort of a spouse.  It means going at life alone.  It also means having a flock of people as your family.  It means bringing comfort to a family when a child is in a coma.  It is blessing the little couple that has been married for 50 years.  It's restoring a fallen Catholic in persona Christi back into the church.  It is commemorating the death and resurrection of Our Lord.

I have gone to school with some wonderful men who have joined the priesthood.  One of my favorite college professors was a priest, hard ass and impossible to please that he was.  The pastor at my church is a fun, loving man has sat down to dinner with me, beer in hand and who dispenses solid advice to guide me when I walk astray. I have been blessed to know some wonderful priests.  

So it has been troubling, gut-wrenching, sickening, maddening to discover that for decades there have been priests who have raped and molested innocent children.  Rather than being held accountable by the Church and by the State, these men were often shuffled off to another region of their diocese or order where they continued to wreak havoc on more lives. 

These men broke the rules and vows they took.  What they did was wrong on every level.  There is no excusing it.  In my world, these men with other rapists, molesters, perverts, monsters of the world would be tossed on Alcatraz, air dropped food and supplies, and left to fend for themselves.  In my mind, there is no one deserving of mercy for the crimes committed against children. 

So when a priest/bishop/deacon/monk have been exposed for the horrible actions they have committed, the first thing under scrutiny is the priestly vow of celibacy.  Many times I've heard the argument in the news and from family and friends that "If your priests could get married, then they wouldn't have to rape little boys."  (As if to say, it's wrong to rape a child because you are a sexual deviant, but it is okay to act on your deviancy on a companion)

First of all, as the survivor of rape, it's not about sex.  It's about power and control.  The need to hurt and belittle someone because the rapist is lacking, twisted, sick, and incomplete.  So even if priests were permitted to marry, it doesn't mean that these actions may not have occurred.  There are sadly too many examples of rapists and molesters that were married: John Wayne Gacy, the couple that abducted Elizabeth Smart, along with Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo.

Most will agree: rapists are sick people.

So when I heard of the allegations against Jerry Sandusky, my heart broke for those innocent children whose lives were shattered.  I was sickened.  Angry at those who stood silent while they were aware of the abuse.

But at the same time, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"See!" I want to shout.  "It's not just priest and ministers and bishops that abuse children.  It's not celibacy that drives them to do that.  It's not Catholicism.  It's about being a deviant!"

More stories of abuse are coming out of other sports organizations as I type.

Sandusky was married when these abuses began.  We can't blame celibacy on his actions.  Even if he was in a loveless, sexless marriage I can't imagine that a person who enjoys raping little boys would be adverse to visiting a male or female hooker or have a mistress. 

Rape is not about love or sex.  It's about power and control, things which these men, priest and married men alike, have abused.  It's not Catholicism and celibacy that forces these priests to do these things. 

It's just plain sickness and deviancy.  And sadly, no one area of our lives, has been unaffected by it. 

I don't have to be a Catholic, I don't have to follow the rules set up by my Church, but I choose to.  Just as Jerry Sandusky choose to rape those children.

Getting My Rant On

I've been feeling down on myself for the past few days, in part to reading and re-reading a comment that someone made to me on Teh Book of Face.  I had made an off-color but totally hil.ar.ious comment in an effort to cheer up a friend.  In reply, a guy I once knew as the biggest clown/screw-up/disgusting slacker came back at me with "Dude, who says shit like that?"

To say I was shocked was to say the least.

• A-It's not like I said this in front of a bunch of 2nd graders
• B-You use to say stuff like this all the time
• C-Why did marriage and a child turn you into a humorless bastard?

But being myself, I agonized over it for days, until now when I finally said to myself today, "Screw it and the horse he rode in on." 

That's me, far right, hideous floral skirt from Goodwill

See, one of my biggest struggles in the past oh, I don't know, 12 years is to speak up for myself and not allow the resulting fall back impede on what I was doing/standing up for/participating in/just being me.  One particular time that I look back on with a bit of regret mixed with anger and sorrow was when a (male) friend of mine said that my association with a group of girls (a feisty bunch of women who took shit from no one) was unbecoming and a turn-off.
Still reeling from a sexual assault that no one knew about, I was cut to the core.  I had found some strength in hanging out with these women, trying to recover the shattered person I had become, and yet here was a person who I (had) respected that conveyed my actions, my interactions, my choice of friends, a part of me was something to be ashamed of.  And I listened to him.  And I didn't hang out with those girls for almost 6 months.  I missed out on 6 months of laughter, late night coffee parties, commiserating over a certain professor with a faux-English accent and Slurpee runs 15 minutes before curfew.  All because I was too ashamed of myself, of the person I no longer was, of the secrets I was hiding.

Payback is a bitch

I'm not that person anymore.  I've been working too damn hard to get rid of the insecurities that have hounded me.  I'm not about to allow myself to be cowed again.  I have no right to doubt myself.  I am a strong, kick-ass woman, who happens to be a great mother, friend, sister, and daughter. 

I have a great sense of humor that some don't get, plenty love, and some who laugh but act ashamed to acknowledge me.  To the last group, I say, grow a fucking pair.

I need not feel ashamed of who I am, how I act, how I walk, talk, or think.  I'm not harming anyone, causing anyone to do evil, or leading people towards death. 

I am me and I am proud.  I have a great group of girl friends from my past and a great group of people who Band around me when I'm down on myself. 

I am one lucky, blessed, and strong/crazy/fun-loving/intelligent woman. . .and I'll say whatever the hell I want to.

I can't remember if we were Bond Girls or Charlie's Angels

Hard Times + Drugs=Death....Not a Very Good Equation

Reading the Sunday paper this past weekend, I happened upon an article about an American facing the death penalty for participating in a drug smuggling ring.  Frank Amado lives in Jakarta, Indonesia where he decided to turn to drug trafficking when his business went belly up and his girlfriend left him. I admit, it is a sad story especially when I read about the Frank's mother using up most of her savings to try and hire a lawyer to defend her son. 

But, and I know this sounds harsh, I don't have any pity for Frank.  His mother, yes, for she will have to live the remainder of her life knowing that her son was executed millions of miles away from her and that she couldn't do anything to change that.  A parent's worse fear is that their child will die before them.  In this case, Frank could have spared his mother an future filled with sorrow and anger, but instead, he acted like a selfish prick.  I know, I sound like a heartless jackass.

Hear me out. 

First of all, Frank chose to live in a country, beautiful though it is, has very harsh laws against drug use/selling/trafficking.  For Indonesia to take such a hard stance against drugs, they do have lower crime rates than many of their Western counterpoints.   (Charlie Sheen, Lindsey Lohan don't plan on visiting Jakarta anytime soon.  I can guarantee you won't see the light of day again, no matter how good of a publicist you have.)

When Frank fell on 'hard times,' rather than dust himself off, work one or more jobs to cover his living expenses, or even call mom and ask for air fare back home, he decided to take a short cut.  The saying when you play with fire you'll get burned isn't a joke. 

This is why I have no pity for Frank.  I, along with millions of others in the US today, have fallen on 'hard times.'  When I lost my job back in June, I was devastated, but I began scrounging around to find any work I could.  I cleaned a few houses, babysat, moved furniture, and sold some of my meager possessions.  In addition to my own personal expenses, I am raising a child which adds a whole other layer of complexities.

But did I decide that it would be a better choice to run drugs or turn tricks at the local strip bars to support me and my child?

Ummmmm....NO.

Granted, my ego has taken a huge bruising at times, having to ask the landlord if I can split up my rent payments throughout the month, relying on the generosity of others to help make ends meet when the crops froze up for three weeks, and asking to eat at my parent's house a few too many times because I didn't even have milk in the house. 

The point that I am making here is that I didn't wimp out.  And I've still survived.  Certainly more humbled than before and more understanding to the plight of others who are in far worse condition than me.  Frank Amado, sorry as he may be for his crime, screwed up in the first place by trying to take the easy way out and secondly choosing to live in a society knowing fully well of the consequences he might face. 

I March to the Beat of a Different Drummer and I Won't Wear Your Damn Shoes!

It's time for me to toot my own horn, but not just for me, for any woman who has ever felt less than, who has questioned her gut instincts because someone else has told her that she is wrong.  This post is for any woman who has felt too fat, too plain, too outspoken, too wrong in every way.

I've lost 6lbs in the last 6 days.  Yea me for actually watching what the hell I've been eating!  I need and want to lose some weight so I can be a bit healthier, so I can chase after my son without wanting to die from lack of oxygen, so if I have to run (AGAIN) after a (suspected) rape victim I won't be so sore the next day I can't move without bitching.  The thing is, I'M DOING IT FOR MYSELF, not for anyone else!!!!!!

Women, have you ever made the mistake of trying to diet/lose weight to impress someone whether it be your family member who says that you have such a pretty face, but a fat ass or your (lame-ass, needs-to-be-dumped-right-away) boyfriend who "liked you when you first started going out, while there was a LOT more of you to like," but is "even turned on more now that there is LESS of you."

(Side note: 3 of the 4 guys I have dated were fixated on my weight/waist/chest size and each time I was with one of them, I tried to 'fix' my body to have their approval.  Thank God with the help of a great mentor and spiritual adviser, I've realized that the problem isn't ME, it's the assholes that I've been with.)

I wish every woman out there who has cried when she looked at the woman in the mirror, believing that she is too fat, too disgusting to be loved, could realize what it's taken me almost 30 years to realize.

This entire post stems from a commercial I saw while vegging out on the parent's couch Christmas day watching A Christmas Story marathon that PISSED. ME. OFF.  (Sidenote: I've spent several hours on the almighty Google and YouTube trying to locate the commercial just so I could get even more pissy before writing about said commercial.  No such luck.)

The product being touted by athletic-blond Barbie are those shoes with the curved sole, claiming to firm up you legs and butt just by walking around in them.  (Frankly, if you believe that walking ten feet around you kitchen and one trip through the grocery store a week will give you buns of steel, I have a bridge I'd like to sell you.)  So Christmas Barbie is putting gifts under the tree for her family, explaining who gets which present, when she pulls out the asstastic toning sneakers saying, "And for my husband I got myself a pair of <INSERT NAME-BRAND> shoes so I can be a sexier me."

^^^^^^^^^^^^Long pause^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Did I just hear that correctly?

You are going to be SEXIER FOR HIM?  Why don't you just say that your relationship with your husband is so superficial that you feel that a tighter ass will show your love for him?  That you aren't good enough/sexy enough to keep your husband happy?  That you are the problem?

WHAT. THE. HELL?

Ladies out there: NO!

We don't need to put up with this shit for one minute longer.  You are just right the way you are and if the man of you dreams thinks that your body shape/size is out of proportion for him, drop his ass right there.

What I'm trying to say is, if you want to/need to lose weight, DO. IT. FOR. YOURSELF.  No one else. 

I've made that mistake before.  I was with a man (men) who made me question my beauty, my self-worth, my self-esteem.  I'm not here to point fingers and play the blame game.  I went along with their ideas because I didn't love myself.  I didn't like what was inside me, so I thought I could fix the outside. 

I wish I could go back in time and tell myself  what the ever witty Jen Lancaster says in her book Such a Pretty Fat, "I'm tired of books where a self-loathing heroine is teased to the point where she starves herself skinny in hopes of a fabulous new life.  And I hate the message that women can't possibly be happy until we all fit into our skinny jeans.  I don't find these stories uplifting: they make me want to hug these women and take them out for fizzy champagne drinks and cheesecakes and explain to them that until they figure out their insides, their outsides don't matter."  (Emphasis mine)

I am living my life one day at a time, loving myself.  Don't me wrong.  I have my ups and downs.  Being unemployed has not be the greatest thing on my ego.  Being a single mom with a wacky sense of humor sometimes makes me wonder how soon my son will ask to see a shrink.  I have days when I am horribly brutal to myself.  But the important thing is, I come out of it.  And I move forward.

Learn to love yourself first before you try to fix your weight.  And do it for yourself. 


I hope this is a message that I can pass on to my younger sisters and any women out there floundering around in a sea of weight-induced misery.  30 years is far too long a time to not enjoy life because you aren't a size 6. 

Time to Consult the Oxford-English Dictonary

Just so we're on the same page when you read/discuss/praise/criticize/love/hate this post, I've linked the following words from the Oxford-English On-Line Dictionary.  That way if you the reader and I the blogger decided to debate/discuss the following diatribe we won't have to quibble on word definition such as Bill Clinton once did:  
 
PRO: from Latin pro, favoring, supporting. 

CHOICE: Middle English: from Old French chois, from choisir 'choose', of Germanic origin and related to choose; an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities

LIBERAL: Middle English: via Old French from Latin liberalis, from liber 'free (man)'; open to new behavior or opinions and willing to discard traditional values

ABORT/ABORTION:  mid 16th century: from Latin aboriri 'miscarry', from ab- 'away, from' + oriri 'be born'; bring to a premature end because of a problem or fault; the deliberate termination of a human pregnancy, most often performed during the first 28 weeks of pregnancy

LIFE: Old English līf, of Germanic origin; related to Dutch lijf, German Leib 'body', also to live; the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change preceding death

Okay, everyone clear on the definitions?  Then let's proceed.

I was recently Facebook'd by my younger sister to attend the Pro-Life Day of Silent Solidarity 2010 which she had participated in the year prior.  (Originally when I had heard that she was going to be silent for an entire day, I found that intriguing and impossible, for of all my siblings she is the MOST chatty.  She's the typical teenager in the LOL, OMG, J/K slang speakeasy way but with a bit more focused moral compass).

So when I looked at the invite I smiled and acknowledged her dedication but mentally I was thinking of a way out of actually committing.  While we would be standing out on the busy street corner of our one horse town for just under two hours, I didn't want to deal with the hassle of finding care for the Kiddo because as good as he can be, there is no way in Heaven that he would sit/stand still for 2 hrs much less 10 minutes.  Plus I didn't want to run the chance of being seen by my former colleagues--"Look at her.  No job and standing on the corner like a homeless person.  Is that red tape?  What a whack-job.  Maybe we should give her $10."  Truthfully, the thing is I didn't want to spend two hours with red tape on my mouth handing out pamphlets.  The way I saw it was that I had done my duty all ready;  I put in my time and effort into the pro-life movement as a child and younger adult.

As a teenager, I went to the FL House and Senate encouraging the veto of the partial birth abortion bill.  In college I assisted in running the prayer group that prayed outside a Planned Parenthood Abortion Mill in DC, did some sidewalk counseling, worked for a pro-life organization after graduation, and attended several freezing cold pro-life marches along the DC streets.  And I made the biggest pro-life altering choice when I unexpectedly discovered that I was seven weeks pregnant.  I could have never informed the father, never told anyone except my roommate and two then-friends, and taken care of the problem like I was encouraged to do by the two then-friends.  But I didn't (obviously).  


As I clicked the link to politely decline attending I was directed to the official Facebook page, where I spent several minutes scanning the contents of the comments section.  Rather than just respond yea or nay to the invite, some people decided to express their dissenting viewpoints and I came across these lovely gems: [Note: I have not revealed the names from these FB postings, I have merely cut and pasted individuals words] 

•  Said one young man whom I would like to nominate for outstanding citizen of the year, "For every abortion you prevent, I will cause ten more."  "I don't have to force people. I will just kick pregnant teenagers in the belly. :)"  Sounds like he would be a wonderful case study in abnormal psychology and the prefect character for an episode of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit.

• Vapid girl number 1 says:  "i believe this was on my birthday last year. i'm pro choice. and rather ticked off that my friend wouldnt talk to me on my birthday."[Sic]  Glad to find someone who's slightly more shallow than Paris Hilton on a good day.
• Girl number 2 chimes in with her idiotic brand of reasoning: "I happen to be in favor of abortion, I wish more people would have them, there'd be less crime. Don't balk, it's a proven correlation."  Ummm....This is not Newton's Third Law of Motion to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  Your logic is so flawed I don't know where to begin. 
• But my favorite line was the tired refrain: "Don't like abortion?  That's fine, don't get one."  Let's try this line of reasoning for everything!  Don't like rape?  Don't get raped!  Don't like being sick?  Don't get sick!  Don't like peanut butter and jelly?  Just eat ham and cheese!

YEA FOR ALL OF YOU!  Instead of engaging in what could be a dialogue between two parties of opposing viewpoints, your vitriol statements confirms my assumption that those who call themselves pro-choice/liberal (see definitions above) are not accommodating for the choice of others, but wish for everyone to be in lock step with their ideas.  

Here's the thing, this event is for a group (hopefully many thousands) of people to silently witness to the world their beliefs.  Did you get that?  SILENTLY.  That's it.  There won't be any marching.  No chanting, yelling, singing, or verbal prayer.  All the people are choosing to be quiet.  They will be quiet for one day, to show to the world that they are being silent for the sake of the silent child growing in the womb which may not have the choice to live. 

If a pro-choice/liberal is all for the freedom to make differing choices, why do they get so upset when someone chooses different from their choice?

I'll see you on the sidewalk Tuesday, little sis.  Thanks for the reminder that my choice to be pro-life needs to be witnessed to this one horse town and I need to shut up for a few hours to remind myself of the child that I chose five years ago.

This post is dedicated to KMG and JTP, two of my many favorite peoples.  Life would be very empty without either of you!