Tag Archives: musings

That’s a You Problem, Not a Me Problem

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If the studies showing the decrease in empathy over the last several decades is in doubt, just go to FaceBook and you will see clear evidence of just how much we don’t give a shit about anybody but ourselves.

The current immigration situation nicely illustrates this point. So many people wanting to just make “those” people go back to where they came from. Umm, most of “those” people are of the brown persuasion. And I can’t help but wonder if the influx was of say blonde haired, blue eyed amazonion looking women, if we would have the same or similar outcry. Oh wait, we had HUGE influxes of Serbo-Crotian immigrants and no one said a word. We’ve granted asylum to numerous people from the middle east with nary a sound of protest. So yeah, umm, we just have problems with our brothers and sisters from south of the border.

Now, I’m not gonna tell you what to think. But immigration is a complex issue. Not only should we be concerned about lower level workers. You know, like migrants farmers so I can have my table grapes in the summer with my wine. Or housekeepers and nannies. But we should be concerned with what’s called the replacement rate. This is the number of babies that each woman needs to have to keep the population at zero. Just as an FYI, the United States is WAY below the needed replacement rate.

Now, lets think this through. Many countries are being over run with people from other countries. Most notably, those countries that are dangerous to live are experiencing mass exodus. And guess where they are going? Lots go to Europe. But MANY come to the United States. So, lets do some simple math peeps. Americans AREN’T replacing their population, we are declining. So those who are raised with our values are a diminishing number. Do you want them replaced by hard-working Catholic conservatives or crazy-assed other religions and cultures? Love Sharia Law? Then keep whining about Latino Catholics “invading” America. Umm, just no. And to be clear, I’m NOT advocating that we cut off all other religious people from immigrating to our country. But we should be really careful about demographics because WE ARE REPLACING our population with immigrants RIGHT NOW. What values do you want those immigrants to have? And I don’t want to hear that all Latinos are drug dealers. Cause that’s like saying all Americans are millionaires or we all get naked to survive in the wild. TV isn’t a good basis for basing racial and ethnic prejudices. Go talk to some Latinos in your community. Go talk to others of differing values. Make an informed decision. You’ll be surprised.

I find it mildly ironic that current US citizens are pissed about people coming to our country to have a better life. Like a better life can be divided up into small slices. Again, umm… just no. Having MORE workers contribute is a good thing. Because many Americans ancestors didn’t immigrate “properly” to the US in the first place. In fact, I bet there are several First American groups who would have several things to say about the first Europeans invaders to US soil and how those peeps NEVER “properly” stepped their toes on US soil. Now, in case you’ve wondered. I can trace one of my parents to “proper” immigration, and it ain’t my white parent. It was my Asian mother. My dad’s side is sketchy on how “legally” they “immigrated.” I put the word immigrated in quotes because many came to this country against their will back in the day. And not just outright slaves, but indentured servants, people who got left behind, who’d been shipped here as convicts, etc. I can’t tell from our family records on my caucasian side if and when and how we came to have US citizenship. And quite frankly, given the number of treaties we’ve failed to honor and enforce, any continued occupation by those not of First American descent might not be quite legal or proper. But good luck trying to dig out those here now. All we can hope for is that those with guilty consciouses to voluntarily give up their citizenship and go back to their motherlands. I’m waiting with baited breathe, y’all.

And here’s the thing, many of those “Mexican bastards” that many in our Southern states are working to keep out came from the First Americans who ROAMED the shit out of this land long before the white, yellow and black peeps stepped a toe on our hallowed ground. So our brown brothers and sisters have and ANCESTRAL claim and right to come back to those very lands. Just look at how often Texas and Southern California changed hands between the Spanish and the Not Spanish. lol Somebody’s claim in this mix in primary and it’s not those with colors that aren’t brown in their skin.

Now you might wonder about how empathy ties into this. Well, can you put yourself into their shoes? Wanting better for your family, work so you can buy food, and not so much crime and lawlessness? I can. My heart goes out to anyone who wants better for themselves and their families. Of course, I can understand that. I won’t touch the whole welfare aspect of these arguments because again, it just underscores the lack of empathy. Seriously, I get that many in our society don’t want to help our fellow Americans. I can’t imagine those same people being overly excited about helping out those who aren’t Americans yet. I get it. But, getting them in, having immigrants work AND pay into our system isn’t that hard to do. Or instituting a waiting period while paying into the system like Canada does wouldn’t be hard to do.

There are many solutions that can work to make these issues not be so important. Sticking kids in concentration-like camps, having military based enforcement, having random US citizenship stops NOT AT A BORDER, and many of the other CRAZY-ASSED actions we’ve been taking isn’t the way. Not at all. A little compassion, a lot of reasonable discourse, and picking and choosing the best of what others are doing are ingredients in the recipe to not looking like those of us who have the coveted US citizenship are hoarders preventing others from having the same opportunities. In other words, stop being dicks.

Manday Monday

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10245503_291129514389185_4244344872282290332_n

I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted. But I thought that a some man candy would help y’all forgive me, or at least get over it. đŸ˜‰

Just take a look at that profile of a most awesome side view of a man abs. Yummo!

Chicken Madeira

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Coming off Memorial Day weekend, the last thing–the VERY LAST THING–I need is more calorie laden food. Umm, not. But a small part of me was craving, y’all. I got to cravin’ Cheesecake Factory’s Chicken Madeira. So I set about to getting the recipe. And there are lots of them, both for Cheesecake Factory’s version as well as for the sauce itself. Here is my not so off-the-cuff rendition of this fav.

Chicken Madeira

Ingredients:

4-6 pieces of chicken, pounded thin (I use a mix of breasts and thighs)
3 pieces of garlic, minced
1-2 medium onions, diced
2-3 cups of mushrooms, sliced
2-3 tbsps butter
3 cups madeira wine
1 cup beef broth ( I use a cup of water and Knorr’s beef jelly thing-a-ma-bobs)
2-3 tbsp flour
mozzarella slices
1 tsp thyme
salt
pepper

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350. Heat skillet over medium-high heat. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Fry each piece in oil until golden brown on both sides. Place in oven casserole dish as they finish cooking.

2. Add more oil to the skillet. Add onions and cook for a few minutes. Add garlic and cook for another minute or two. Add mushrooms and cook for a few minutes.  Add flour and cook until it pastes. Add thyme and salt and pepper. Cook for a minute. Add wine and broth and cook until thick and reduced in half.

3. Place mozzarella slices on each piece of chicken. When sauce if thick and reduced in half, pour over chicken. Bake until cheese bubbles, or longer.

The Cheesecake Factory serves their chicken with asparagus and a heaping mound of mashed potatoes. I can attest that this is an excellent accompaniment choice for this dish. However, I like mine over an argula salad instead of asparagus, although I do really, really like the mashed potatoes to sop up the delicious madeira gravy. For those of you doing the low carb thing, roasted vegetables would be cool instead of the mashed potatoes as would roasted and riced cauliflower. For the Argula salad, I make a lemon/white wine vinaigrette right before I toss the greens and serve it under the chicken to help the argula wilt slightly.

Vinaigrette

1 tbsp dijon mustard
2-3 tbsp lemon juice
1-2 tbsp white wine vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil salt pepper parmesan cheese
– put mustard, juice and wine in a bowl. Whisk together. Keep whisking while adding olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste being sure to under season for salt since the parmesan cheese is salty.  Stir in parmesan cheese. Toss in argula.

I fell in love with “rocket” as argula is called on the continent many moons ago. It is served quite often in many European countries. Plus, it just taste like summer. In any event, slice up some limes and pop open a Corona and eat the chicken. It is delish. Add in some rocket, and this flavor combo is out of this world. đŸ˜‰

Manday Monday

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10001451_636086179777802_1278718481024318743_n Mondays are fast becoming one of my favorite days. đŸ˜‰

There is something really sexy about a man in a suit. Seems to me that there is something even more sexy about a man in a suit as he is undressing.

That’s right… take it off. Take if all off. đŸ™‚

#YesAllWomen

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This post will likely contain some triggery shit. You have been warned.

Not all men are dicks. All women have been threatened by those with dicks, however.

Not all men rape. All women live in the fear of being raped.

Not all men are domestically violent. All women are aware that statistically women will have violence done to them in their home.

All women. Everywhere. Live in the shadow of violence done to them by men. No, not all men. But even one can cut a swath through the female population. More than one? Shit, the numbers of women they will touch with violence exponentially increases. Every. Fucking. Woman.  Yes, all women.

My first touch that was inappropriate happened when I was 11 or 12. A much older man laid his body on top of mine while I slept. I woke up to being suffocated by a large male body. He was the husband of one of my mom’s friend. But that isn’t my first experience with having my body, me sexualized. That happened when I was about 8. I was told that his dick would go so far up into me that it would take up the space of most of my torso. And I’m writing this in a much nicer way than it was told to me. Seriously. The words he said shocked me. So much so that I’ve NEVER forgotten it.

An 8 year old girl should never be sexualized. I was. And I know I’m not alone.

Another occurrence that stuck in my mind occurred when I spent a summer in Paris. I was followed for several blocks by a man. I couldn’t go home because I didn’t want to lead him to where I was living. Me, alone in a foreign country, scared shitless. So I kept walking and SCREAMING at the top of my lungs hoping that my noise, my screams would protect me. Even then, I KNEW it wouldn’t be enough. So I stayed in crowded areas until about 45 minutes later, he stopped following me. He stopped. No one stopped him. No one came to my aid. No one.

Every time a women goes out with a man, she takes her life into her hands. Every. Single. Time.

Crazy doesn’t wear itself on the outside. Violent men don’t show their violent faces until they do. And it could be on the first date, the second anniversary, or a post-divorce party. Women don’t know they are going to be the target until they are. Sure, there are signs SOME men put out. We avoided those guys like the plague. It’s the ones that pass as normal. That pass as “normal.”

So, dudes, I get that you don’t want to be painted with a brush of violence that seems to be so pervasive amongst your gender. But when you defend YOURSELF with #notallmen, instead of acknowledging #yesallwomen, in essence you are doing some violence by dismissing, deflecting and defending men and marginalizing women.

So, shut the fuck up. And listen.

No, not all men. But one is too many. Because yes, ALL WOMEN.

Road Trips Rock, Gas Prices Suck

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Went on a road trip this past week. It’s been a LONG time since I got in a car and drove across the country, or even a small part thereof. I’d forgotten how cool it was to travel on the highways. Not the steering wheel grabbing part as I cuss out other drivers on the road, but the see the country and explore at a leisurely pace kinda of way.

It helped that I stopped in on family and friends. So without real solid dates, I endeavored to make a few stops and enjoy being the captain of my own ship, so to speak.

My road trip was preceded by a week of an awesome stay in New Orleans. Sheesh, I’d forgotten how much I  love that city. I haven’t been back since Katrina hit. And I was expecting more devastation than I saw. Which was good. But I suspect I just hadn’t driven into the parts that had been hardest hit. One of these days, I’ll go back and explore the more hidden parts, the less touristy ones.

I used to live in New Orleans. It was awesome. New Orleans is THE place to be if you’re a college student of any level. There’s lots to do and lots to see. Plus, the atmosphere of laissez le bon temps roulez was most excellent to help a person come into their own, albeit in a circuitous route that led down Bourbon Street on many a night. Still, I couldn’t have asked for a more relaxed community. Not to say there aren’t some under layers to the city. There are. Lots.

N’awlins was a mid-way point in my trek. A long resting spot that proved to be less than restful. Not that I’m complaining. I’m not. Just saying. đŸ™‚ Instead of going west, I headed east from there. And not a little south. Florida was my next destination. I spent  four days there. I hadn’t really explored Florida, except right along the south beaches off I-10. Going down into the boot was vastly different. For one thing, the plants ROCK. It smelled so good. All those tropical and sub-tropical flora made the air redolent with sensuous scents. Hah, now I’m all waxing poetic and shit. Seriously, though, I hadn’t smelled air that sweet since I’d last visited Hawaii. Yum!

To say I really enjoyed the trip would be an understatement. I think I might plan a road trip every summer. I know. I know. That is totally not green. But whatever, dude. I did drive a hybrid car on this road trip and probably will plan to do so again. But no matter how imminent the shortage of petroleum might be, I am so willing to burn up a week or three in giving myself the happies. Ya know?

A Tribute To My Mother

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I usually reserve Sundays for book reviews. I don’t know why. I just do it. But today is Mother’s Day. And my Mother passed away 3 years ago on April 7, 2011. So today, instead of doing a post about a book, this post is a tribute to my mother. It won’t be nearly long enough. I won’t get out everything I want to say. But still, here it is.

My first memory is of my mother. I woke up- I must have been about 2 years old- hungry and went in search of the person who fed me. My mom. To say I love her wouldn’t cover the myriad of emotions I feel toward the one woman who not only shaped me, but shaped and informed the world around me. She was everything in my world.

My mom’s courageousness never hit me until I was an adult and realized how HARD the things she did were. Like coming to a new country, learning a new language, and permanently changing her citizenship to a country she hadn’t been born in. And she did all those things for me. Of course, my father factored heavily into these things as well. But knowing my moms, I know a huge part of WHY she did some of those things were because of me. That’s just who she was. She loved me as well.

The day she went to that Federal Courthouse to take her oath and pledge her loyalty to America was a pivotal moment for me. Although, I wouldn’t realize that until much later as well. The joy I experienced in that courtroom never left me. Never. It dictated what I would study in school and which career path I would take.

I was not a good daughter. At times, I was downright shitty. Some of the things I said to my mom HAUNT me. And I know that I’m not alone. Teenagers across the world have said things that were meant to devastate just like I did. But that doesn’t matter to me. Because I said them to a woman who deserved praise and not ridicule. Not the scorn I heaped upon her.

I was lucky to have the mom I had. I learned to be a good mom in return. I learned to be most of what I am today because of her. She should have been given a better daughter. I wish she had. Then she might have had  more than I gave her. Not that I couldn’t. I just chose not to. In my arrogance.

My mom passed away three years ago and I regret the time we lost to my own selfishness. She was a superb human being. She pissed people off because she was blunt and direct when maybe sometimes she didn’t need to be. Judgmental at times. I know her flaws as well. Still, in the balance, my scale of goodness from her tips way to my side when balanced against her scale of goodness.

My mom knew sacrifice. She went hungry many times as a child so her younger brother and sisters could eat. It was post war and Korea was decimated. She gave up so much always for those around her who she loved. She used to come over and cook and clean for me when my kids were little so I could rest. How do you even begin to repay, honor or in any other way give back what she gave? I don’t know. I just sit here in awe of my mom.

My mom passed away 4 months after I moved from close to her to far away. I miss her every single day. Every single day. I have a box with her jacket in it. I know it still smells like her. I haven’t opened the box because I don’t want that smell to go away. I want that smell with me at my time. To be wrapped up in her and have her be the last memory I have just like I had the first.

Manday Monday

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Yummalicious. Another Monday. Another hot man pic. What more could anyone ask for?!?!

There is just so much to like about this picture. So. Much.

Are You Trying To Shame Me?

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Cause you’re gonna have to try a little harder to make that shit work for you. I’m not ashamed. Not at all. Not one iota. I write romances. I read romances. And I LIKE that I do.

Wanna look down your nose at me? Fuck you.

Give me a minute, bet I can find something out about you that I can make into a shame sequence. Seriously? After all the shit that women get, now we’re getting shit because of the material we read? Bitch, please. Be happy that WE ARE READING AT ALL.

Wanna call me names? Fuck you… AGAIN.

I get the disparaging remarks about “mommy porn” as you laugh uncomfortably and look away. I get the light scoff/snort as you discuss the merits of romances being written at all, much less read–gasp–by a large percentage of the populace. I get the looks of derision and scorn when certain titles are mentioned and the genres they represent. I get it. I don’t understand it. But I get that some people feel that way.

All this was precipitated because of a blog post, Dear Columists, romance fiction is not your bitch, by Kat Mayo in the Drum. In that article, Kat defends the romance genre, romance writers and romance readers. And she does so brilliantly.

But you know what pisses me off? Feminists–who, by the way, are by and large WOMEN–are trying to shame other WOMEN for reading and writing in a genre that showcases WOMEN. And then the argument devolves into people pointing out that women are other women’s biggest adversary in today’s world. Wake the fuck up.

Wanna know the biggest adversaries to women in today’s world? Lack of education. Shitty health care. Disparate treatment in the workforce. And the list goes on because the list is fucking LONG, yo.

What ISN’T the biggest stumbling block for other women is WOMEN. Yes, there are times that women will argue. So what? I argue with dudes too when they’re fucking WRONG. My arguing with a women doesn’t automatically mean I’m being catty cause I have a vagina as well. It just means I don’t give a shit what gender you are when I point out that I think YOU ARE WRONG.

Talk about circling back. Dude, seriously. What is WRONG is dismissing the romance genre in its entirety because there happen to be one or ten shitty romance writers. Here, let me lay out my thesis in clear bold language. THE ROMANCE GENRE IS THE ONLY GENRE THAT MAKES WOMEN THE FOREFRONT AND CENTER OF THE STORY.

Let me say that again. Because it’s important. Really fucking important. The Romance genre is the only genre that makes women the forefront and center of the story.

No other genre does that. Not sci-fi. Not westerns. Not literary fiction. Not middle grade fiction. Not thrillers. Not horrors. Not picture books. Not cookbooks. Not devotionals. Not fantasy. Not histories. Not poetry. Not one other genre makes women the centerpiece of the story.

And that boys and girls never happens in real life. Not really. Women are secondary characters in real life. Every once in a while, we’ll have the token women break through and get her own story, but that happens so rarely as to be statistically irrelevant. And when it does, the larger story hers is contained within is usually the man’s story. Don’t believe me? Crack open any history book. Ever. Shit, crack open a historical fiction book and although the story might seem like it’s about the girl, it’s about the dudes in the book. Really. You just get the reaction perspective from the women’s point of view in regards to what the dudes are doing. So being told in the feminine perspective doesn’t mean the story places the woman at the forefront, at the center, as the CRUX of the story.

The romance genre has been doing that since the genre developed. Women, and some men, reading about women navigating their shitty societies and societal restrictions, figuring shit out, being the REASON for the story. And yes, real women know there aren’t that many happy endings. Shit. WE KNOW. We know there are things in the books that aren’t realistic. Dude. WE KNOW. But there is a measure of empowerment and satisfaction from immersing oneself into a world where a women’s story as she navigates her life and relationships isn’t secondary, or an afterthought, or an addendum.

And really, isn’t it easy to bash the romance genre because it involves women? Doesn’t it seem that we’re all a little quicker to bash the things women like, read, or want? I don’t need to be shamed because someone else thinks my reading and writing material isn’t up to intellectual snuff. I don’t need someone denigrating me because of my choice in genre. Didn’t we already go through this in the science fiction genre and the horror genre. All this name-calling because someone else’s opinion renders an ENTIRE class of writing dismissed.

Part of being a free women today means I get to read what the fuck I want. AND I feel no shame. It also means that I get to write the fuck I want. And again, I FEEL NO SHAME.  Shame has no place in literary discourse of any kind. Discuss the merits of the work, or body of works, and have rational discussions about this. Even if we agree to disagree. I don’t NEED to argue someone to my point of view. I could really give a shit less what you think, or what you read, or whatever. And even if I thought it was shit, I wouldn’t disparage the entire genre or you as a person for reading that shit. You’d probably never know. Because reading material is individual and what we get out of a reading is also individual. So one book for me might be shit and it might have been the greatest book you’ve ever read. That’s cool.

But don’t tell me I’m perpetuating the stereotypes of a type of women that you might find distasteful. In doing that, you are doing nothing more than what the patriarchal system has been telling women all along. You shouldn’t do this because it isn’t feminine has now become you shouldn’t do this because it’s TOO feminine. Fuck you. Determine your level of femininity or lack thereof and then do that. Don’t look around and tell other people to do that too, and if they don’t do what you tell them then say they suck because that just makes YOU SUCK.

My reading and writing material doesn’t make me more or less feminine. Neither does it determine my commitment level to feminism. All it says is that I want to read a story where the central figure and the story is about a women living her life. That is all.

So if you’ve got shit to say to me about my reading and/or my writing material and its start out with the romance genre sucks… just shut the fuck up. There’s only one place the shame in the situation should be sitting. And it’s not on my shoulders. And I won’t thank you for trying to lay that shit at my feet. Keep it. I’ve got enough shit to deal with. I so don’t need yours.

 

Being Creative Outside the Box

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Several years back, I was given a book called the Artist’s Way. I was having a mental and emotional crisis in that I was just plain exhausted. Working full time, being a full time mom to two boys, a wife, a daughter, a sister, etc. had taken its toll. And I was spent.

I started working through the workbook, only doing those things I could without adding more stress to my life. And slowly as I took myself out on dates, bought little presents for myself and began to explore creative outlets of which I was so not talented, my mental fatigue began to lift. My life hadn’t changed, but my brain was being recharged anyway. It was an eye-opening experience.

There wasn’t a better way for me to learn the lesson that I MUST take care of myself first BEFORE I can take care of others. Those small little things that I did for myself made me happy and taught me I was just as deserving of my time and attention as everyone else. Take care of yourself first and everything else will follow.

I took myself on lunch dates, movie dates and to museums and art galleries and anywhere that struck my fancy. I bought myself little stickers and colored pencils and postcards. The things I did for myself weren’t expensive. They didn’t
take a lot of time. I didn’t search out exotic and unique stuff. I just picked shit that made me smile. And then I took my happy ass to those places. Sometimes, I’d go with others, but most times I went by myself.

I’m a shitty artist. I drew and colored anyway.

I’m a shitty poet. I wrote the worst poetry EVAR!

I found out I’m pretty shitty at a lot of things. I also found out that I have an assload of fun being shitty at a lot of things.

Today, I decided to teach myself French cooking. I have purchased Julia Child’s 2 volumes cookbook set (yes, that’s how I spent part of my Amazon settlement monies) and I aim to work myself through French technique over the next few months. I might even take a class if I can find one by a classically trained French chef. The chef doesn’t have to be French, just her cuisine. đŸ˜‰ This is the creative endeavor I’ve chosen for right now. Who knows, I might take up pottery next (and if you have a creative suggestion, please tell!!). Because even though I’m not doing the 9-5 that I was before when I first fell exhausted and spent, writing does take a lot out of you. And to fill the creative well, I stay vigilant to ensure my creative barrel is topped off.

I will probably not pick writing related creative outlets for my self “dates.” It’s one of the reason I choose cooking this time around. Going to concerts and galleries and exposing myself to the creative endeavors of my fellow artists can’t help but spool up ideas in my own mind. Besides without real life experiences, fiction just rings hollow if written by someone who hasn’t experienced some of what the writer is writing about. I think discovering new art fields, finds and niches is a brilliant way to make my mind stay fresh and bright and charged.

I can’t wait to taste all my goody French cuisine. I’m no Iron Chef, but I think I can get damn close.