Monthly Archives: August 2014

Vintage Porn

So I recently learned that my mom gave away my grandfather’s porn collection around the same time she basically gave away the house I grew up in: she sold it for 23k, just enough to cover the loans to break even. I’ve resented her selling it so cheaply over the years: especially during the times my kids and I have been homeless. But why Grandpa’s porn!? I happen to know for a fact it was in mint condition!!!

I know because I’d been reading it since I was a little kid: sprawled in the hatchback of my grandmother’s gold Toyota Corolla after church on Sundays while we drove up to the mountains in our usual weekend ritual. She’d always made it a habit to collect the magazines left in the rooms she cleaned during the week at the Howard Johnson’s where we worked. I say we because, back then, if I wasn’t in school or taking care of Mama Jeannie, her mother, I was at work with my grandmother cleaning motel rooms. Rarely was I ever afforded the opportunity to be a kid. I was more like her puppet on a string- or so she thought…

Anyway, that’s info for another time and another chapter. I just want to say this: regardless of your opinion, a vintage porn collection in MINT condition in today’s market would be worth just as much (if not more) to collectors than a baseball card collection from the same era. Not that I would’ve considered selling: I’d rather have preserved it to pass on to future generations as THEY come of age.

Call me “crazy,” but it was never the porn that corrupted me: I saw it just like I saw all reading material- as an educational medium. Only it made me feel tingly in places that I knew were off-limits. But it didn’t make me WANT to engage in sex, it just gave me ideas for what to do if and when I found my One. Also, the pictures and articles taught me the alternatives to vaginal intercourse: very important since, to me, it was any behavior which could result in procreation that was prohibited til I found my right partner. Obviously I wasn’t supposed to MAKE BABIES with just anyone!

No, it was my mother’s bad advice that did me in: “All guys only want one thing- and if you don’t give it to them, they might not stick around long enough to figure out whether or not they love you.” This was “the talk” that I was given just after my 14th birthday. Up until then, I’d only ever allowed “above the waist” stuff to occur. A year later, I’d been through my first pregnancy and an abortion I did not want to endure. I wanted to be like Juno (although it was like a decade before that came out…) and find an awesome family to raise my kid- and bonus if they’d take me too!!!

The moral of this story is: DO NOT THROW AWAY YOUR DAD’S PORN COLLECTION!!!

An original work by *crptnite*

All content is to be considered fictional and any likeness to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental- all truths are said in jest 😉

Posted from WordPress for Android

The Proof

Alright already!!! Enough is enough!!! I woke up this morning with only ONE thing on my mind: that I MUST NOT forget to make it to THERAPY!!! And I made it alright: 23 hours and 15 minutes EARLY. Of course, in MY mind, I was 45mins LATE!!! But that’s a whole other story. I’m writing this because the SOLUTIONS are so BLATANTLY OBVIOUS that I can no longer IGNORE them- plus it’ll take like a decade or two for me to be able to PROVE IT GENETICALLY!!! (Although ya know- maybe it really COULD take me less than 9mos!!!)

As far as our MILITARY is concerned, WE MUST WITHDRAW FROM ACTIVE COMBAT BEFORE IT EVER COULD WORK!!! What we need is a NEW BRANCH OF SERVICE called (idk, hmm- lemme think about it…) the PEACE CORPS!!! We need to ENLIST VOLUNTEERS (like me…) who’d be the FIRST RESPONDENTS for a MISSION TO SAVE THE EARTH!!! These are people who’d be willing to SERVE HUMANITY AT ANY AND ALL COST, who’d vow to SEEK PEACE AND PURSUE IT BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY, and are ready, willing & able to SACRIFICE THEIR LIVES TO SAVE not just OUR COUNTRY, but our ENTIRE PLANET as well. Obviously, this could eventually be a GLOBAL ORGANIZATION, but WHO’S GOING TO FOLLOW if none of us are WILLING TO LEAD!?

The next step would be to UTILIZE NATIONAL RESOURCES TO TRAIN THESE SOLDIERS HOW TO ELECTRIFY OTHER NATIONS so that THEY CAN COMPETE IN THIS GAME WE CALL LIFE! Draw up a PEACE TREATY with every such nation, stating that MILITANT FORCE will only ever be used if and/or when the INSURGENTS ATTACK FIRST!!! Once these civilians have gained a simple thing like ELECTRICITY (which, I might add, has become a NECESSITY here, just look it up: DCS can TAKE AWAY OUR CHILDREN if we’re unable to PROVIDE them with UTILITIES such as FUNCTIONAL INDOOR PLUMBING, WATER, POWER, HEATING & COOLING. If you think I’m kidding, think about this: my friend once told me that whenever her younger sister’s KUB would be about to get cut-off, she’d call DCS on herself because they paid her bill each time she did since it would cost far more in the long-run to actually TAKE AWAY HER KIDS!!!) they can easily LEARN how to get started on the rest. We need to stop bickering over what OUR OWN CIVIL RIGHTS should entail, and start eking out a CONSTITUTION FOR BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS which can and SHOULD apply to our ENTIRE SPECIES if we have ANY HOPE OF PRESERVING it in its CURRENT ENTIRETY in either the PRESENT or, more importantly, the FUTURE!!!

See, I know I come up with a lot of THEORIES- what can I say: I’m a THEORETICAL PHYSICIST. But one theory that I KNOW could and WOULD COME TO FRUITION is the FACT that, if given the OPPORTUNITY, the MAJORITY OF PEOPLE would prefer a SIMPLE, PEACEFUL LIFE!!! In that respect, I’ll bet you DOLLARS TO DOUGHNUTS that, while not such a “glamorous job” now that WE’VE surpassed our own INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION, if we helped them to BUILD SAFE, CLEAN & EFFICIENT FACTORIES, most of their CIVILIANS would jump at the chance to PROCESS OUR MEATS!!!

Personally, working in a meat-processing factory has, for at least three generations now, pretty much been MY family’s version of a “family business.” It’s where my mom’s father worked, where she went to work when she was knocked-up with ME at 19 and was no longer ELIGIBLE UNDER HIS HEALTH INSURANCE. It was where I went to work at 19 when I had CERVICAL CANCER and, of course, was NO LONGER ELIGIBLE under HER health insurance. It’s where we met our worst mistakes: the men we passed off as our daughters’ fathers, which led to our greatest blessings: her second son and my second daughter. Basically, it’s where we ENDED UP after having made horrible choices which led to our DEPENDENCE ON PRIVATE-SECTOR HEALTH INSURANCE!!! Of course, I could go on. But surely to M.H. you’re already PEACE-ing it together all by yourself. But if you need MORE inspiration, just watch the video I post to Facebook immediately after I’m done typing THIS post (only because I haven’t quite figured out how to do that and/or apparently haven’t bought the video upgrade required) and if after seeing that, you STILL HAVE DOUBTS, just do what I did immediately prior to posting this simply because I was curious as to what might come up: Google the phrase “what is the safest and most logical thing to do for humanity” and read the FIRST headline that pops up 😉

What I Wanted To Be…

What’s the very first thing you can remember thinking, “That’s what I wanna be when I grow up!”- do you remember? I just did. I had a flash in my mind that took me back to a time long before I ever wanted to be anything other than a mother. (Random Rhyming…?)

And I only knew I wanted that because I already knew I wanted him- he was always in my heart, on my mind or in my dreams even long before he actually existed: I’m two years and four months older than him- but he was with me even when I was born.

The only other strong, instinctual drive I’d felt up to this point: about six or seven years of age, was just to figure out a way to make it all better. And by all, I meant the entire universe, as best as I was able to comprehend it, but mostly people: I saw where people kept seeming to go wrong, and I simply felt a strong and natural desire to make it right.

And so, standing in the tiny library of my small, segregated school of no more than two hundred kids, all of whom lived right there beside it in the heart of “Old North Knoxville,” in the city of Knoxville, in the county of Knox, in the state of Tennessee, in the United States of America, on the continent of North America, in the Northern/Western hemispheres (I saw on a pull-down map in my classroom which, up to that point, had been my only visual representation of the world at large back in 1988) I decided I wanted to save the world! And I knew it was a vast world I could only hope to ever get the chance to even explore-let alone change- unless I were… like… a President… or something. THAT’S IT: I’d just become President! Then I’d be able to fix it ALL!

I know what you’re thinking: crazy, huh? Of course, by the time I was in fifth grade, I’d learned that politics was nothing more than popularity contests to the extreme: hence my simply running for class treasurer- knowing I could never compete for the presidency against my dearest friend!!!

But still, I remember- for a fleeting moment in time- the first thing that I’d ever actually thought, “I want to be that when I grow up!” was to be President! I remember looking it up in the library that day: “requirement list for becoming a President of the United States of America.” Only we didn’t have Google Search- I had to use the actual card catalog as well as my own personal knowledge of the Dewey Decimal System.

It was the mid-late ’80s, but I found what I could at that time: reference material with the requirements for being elected as a President of the USA- it said I must be born in the United States: check! And the only other requirement that this replica of some scroll-looking document pictured on the pages in the book I was reading stated that I must be at least 35yrs of age.

Well, that settled it then: obviously I’d just have to wait until I was old enough, then I’d run for president!

Well, guess what!? My thirty-fifth birthday happens to fall the year of the next presidential election. Am I planning to run? Of course not!!! I’d given up on that dream almost as fast as I’d had it because, unlike the mothers who see hope in the future through their children, mine made it clear early-on that we were never meant to amount to anything more than what we already were. I’d just believed in myself that I could find a way to be more. But once she let me know those were “crazy ideas,” I just started keeping them buried deep in the back of my mind while I attempted to figure out what I was intended to do.

Twenty-five plus years later, here I am: doing nothing, having nothing, having amounted to nothing at all. I do not have any proof of my skills because my skills have been self-taught along the way by utilizing technology to learn what I wanted to and when, as well as following the examples of the handful tossed along my path to help lead me into the right direction. I have no degree or pedigree, for that matter. There’d be absolutely nothing on a resume qualifying me for any job or career in which I could truly make such a difference as to be satisfied or even fulfilled and financially sustained by my work. I can’t even get hired as a cashier at this point- trust me: I’ve put in several, albeit reluctant, applications!

Now, I don’t even get to be the first and last thing that I wanted even in infancy myself: a perfect mother. Of course, I still will be involved in my children’s lives- M.H. doesn’t hate me that much for my mistakes- I’ll just be more of a background mom: one who supports from the sideline while letting someone else coach the team and call the plays.

And as much as it sucks that I’ll never be President, (although I’d prob have at least a snowball’s chance in hell if I were to run…) it sucks most that I will never again truly feel like I’m a mom either.

I’ll always feel like a mother: always have, always will.

I mean the feeling you get when you actually do become somebody’s “mama” or whatever the people you make from your own body (and for whose livelihood you are solely responsible…) call you on that first, highly-anticipated occasion when they do call you something- that later will become your least of favorite words in their vocabulary right along with “no” and “can I get a…” by the time they are teens.

But then, eventually they’ll be gone: hopefully for yours- grown, ready to live on their own. But for mine, the time for letting go came far sooner than I had anticipated: my oldest is just embarking on her journey into womanhood, my youngest has yet to embark even upon school. But I have no choice in this moment: my reality is very clear. I must resign myself to being merely a spectator in the lives and development of my children, knowing full-well that, if not for Him, I certainly won’t have the option of ever having any more.

I wanted to be me, I wanted to be he, I wanted to be we, but now I’m never going to be any of the three…

…so I guess I’ll run for president!

An original work by *crptnite*

All content is to be considered fictional and any likeness to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental- all truths are said in jest 😉

Posted from WordPress for Android

What I Wanted To Be…

What’s the very first thing you can remember thinking, “That’s what I wanna be when I grow up!”- do you remember? I just did. I had a flash in my mind that took me back to a time long before I ever wanted to be anything other than a mother. And I only knew I wanted that because I already knew I wanted him- he was always in my heart, on my mind or in my dreams even long before he actually existed: I’m two years and four months older than him- but he was with me even when I was born.

The only other strong, instinctual drive I’d felt up to this point: about six or seven years of age, was just to figure out a way to make it all better. And by all, I meant the entire universe, as best as I was able to comprehend it, but mostly people: I saw where people kept seeming to go wrong, and I simply felt a strong and natural desire to make it right.

And so, standing in the tiny library of my small, segregated school of no more than two hundred kids, all of whom lived right there beside it in the heart of “Old North Knoxville,” in the city of Knoxville, in the county of Knox, in the state of Tennessee, in the United States of America, on the continent of North America, in the Northern/Western hemispheres I saw on a pull-down map in my classroom which, up to that point, had been my only visual representation of the world at large back in 1988. And I knew it was a vast world I could only hope to ever get the chance to even explore-let alone change- unless I were like a President or something. THAT’S IT: I’d just become President! Then I’d be able to fix it ALL!

I know what you’re thinking: crazy, huh? Of course, by the time I was in fifth grade, I’d learned that politics was nothing more than popularity contests to the extreme: hence my simply running for class treasurer- knowing I could never compete for the presidency against my dearest friend!!!

But still, I remember- for a fleeting moment in time- the first thing that I’d ever actually thought, “I want to be that when I grow up!” was to be President! I remember looking it up in the library that day: “requirement list for becoming a President of the United States of America.” Only we didn’t have Google Search- I had to use the actual card catalog as well as my own personal knowledge of the Dewey Decimal System.

It was the mid-late ’80s, but I found what I could at that time: reference material with the requirements for being elected as a President of the USA- it said I must be born in the United States: check! And the only other requirement that this replica of some scroll-looking document pictured on the pages in the book I was reading stated that I must be at least 35yrs of age.

Well, that settled it then: obviously I’d just have to wait until I was old enough, then I’d run for president!

Well, guess what!? My thirty-fifth birthday happens to fall the year of the next presidential election. Am I planning to run? Of course not!!! I’d given up on that dream almost as fast as I’d had it because, unlike the mothers who see hope in the future through their children, mine made it clear early-on that we were never meant to amount to anything more than what we already were. I’d just believed in myself that I could find a way to be more. But once she let me know those were “crazy ideas,” I just started keeping them buried deep in the back of my mind while I attempted to figure out what I was intended to do.

Twenty-five plus years later, here I am: doing nothing, having nothing, having amounted to nothing at all. I do not have any proof of my skills because my skills have been self-taught along the way by utilizing technology to learn what I wanted to and when, as well as following the examples of the handful tossed along my path to help lead me into the right direction. I have no degree or pedigree, for that matter. There’d be absolutely nothing on a resume qualifying me for any job or career in which I could truly make such a difference as to be satisfied or even fulfilled and financially sustained by my work. I can’t even get hired as a cashier at this point- trust me: I’ve put in several, albeit reluctant, applications!

Now, I don’t even get to be the first and last thing that I wanted even in infancy myself: a perfect mother. Of course, I still will be involved in my children’s lives- M.H. doesn’t hate me that much for my mistakes- I’ll just be more of a background mom: one who supports from the sideline while letting someone else coach the team and call the plays. And as much as it sucks that I’ll never be President, (although I’d prob have at least a snowball’s chance in hell if I were to run…) it sucks most that I will never again truly feel like I’m a mom either. I’ll always feel like a mother: always have, always will. I mean the feeling you get when you actually do become somebody’s “mama” or whatever the people you made from your own body and for whose livelihood you are now solely responsible call you on that first, highly-anticipated occasion when they do call you something- that later will become your least of favorite words in their vocabulary right along with “no” and “can I get” by the time they are teens.

But then, eventually they’ll be gone: hopefully for yours- grown, ready to live on their own. But for mine, the time for letting go came far sooner than I had anticipated: my oldest is just embarking on her journey into womanhood, my youngest has yet to embark even upon school. But I have no choice in this moment: my reality is very clear. I must resign myself to being merely a spectator in the lives and development of my children, knowing full-well that, if not for Him, I certainly won’t have the option of ever having any more.

I wanted to be me, I wanted to be he, I wanted to be we, but now I’m never going to be any of the three…

…so I guess I’ll run for president!

An original work by *crptnite*

All content is to be considered fictional and any likeness to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental- all truths are said in jest 😉

Posted from WordPress for Android

Landon’s Room

Stumbled upon this in an unrelated search- LOVE THE IDEAS!!! Just pretty sure I’ll probably never need them 😦

A Beautiful Mess

This past weekend I started to have a freak-out session (I might be exaggerating a little bit here, but I did realize that time is passing me by quickly). My little Landon is not so little anymore….ImageOn Monday, Dave made Landon’s crib into a “toddler bed”. It hit me that I never really captured his nursery in pictures…and we worked HARD on his nursery. Turning the crib into a big boy bed really didn’t change it much, it just made me get on the ball to take pictures of his room so we won’t forget it….sooooo welcome to Landon’s room (soon to be Max’s and Landon’s room)

Let me first start by saying, babies could care less about de-popcorned ceilings and crown molding. Before having Landon, Dave and I did a lot of DIY projects around the house. The biggest project was our kitchen, but that is a whole…

View original post 977 more words