TT: Yankees vs. Confederates

For those of you unaware...I am a big fan of "Gone with the Wind". Film and Book. My three year old little mind basques in the southern charm and beauty of hoop skirt and pantalet. Now, this movie might be set in the Civil War, but it certainly does not share the true atrocities, or the content for which the United States had decided to turn on each other. To me, and maybe to many, but mostly me, this film was about a southern way of life completely destroyed by those "damn dirty yanks", the scoundrels of the north whose sole purpose was to uproot a tranquil, quiet world. It was not until I wandered in to the history section of Empire Library that I learned about whipping posts and middle passage. As I got older, I felt guilty for rooting for the Confederates. After all, the dashing Clark Gable/Rhett Butler (same man) enlisted at the end of the war, but fought for the South none the less. So naturally I was torn. How I could I choose between the dashing men of the South but still accept the atrocities of the "S" word. Eeeek. So I did what I do as always. I made a list of why Confederates suck, and why Yankees suck.

Enjoy.

Confederates:
1. It's the South.
2. Slavery.
3. The cute Southern accent, its not so cute anymore.
4. They threw a monster hissy fit because they didn't get their way, and they fucking seceded. Wah.
5. The men don't actually look like Leslie Hamilton/Ashley Wilkes and Clark Gable/Rhett Butler, not at all.
6. Gone with the Wind was fiction, Margaret Mitchell lied to us ALL!
7. Jefferson Davis. End point.

Yankees:
1. They tried to kill Leslie Hamilton/Ashley Wilkes and Clark Gable/Rhett Butler.
2. They tried to destroy that beautiful Southern way of life, a world of cavaliers, gone with the wind. 
3. They raped and pillaged many of the unmanned homes of the South...those women were not the enemy. Well, I guess they were, sort of, but still. There was no uniform on them.
4. Lincoln was a liar whose last resort was the Emancipation Proclamation. He really did not care if slaves were free. He wasn't a fan of slavery, but rather, at best, ambivalent.

If I was asked which side was the better side, what little semblance of humanity I have left inside of me would always say the North. Slavery was deplorable, an institution that remains alive in the world today. It's disgusting and barbaric.

On a lighter note, I always wanted to be the Mexican Scarlett O'Hara.

TT: Bat Shit Crazy

Ask me what drives me crazy and I will answer easy enough...the word "crazy" drives my crazy.

"Why?", asked the gentle reader. I will tell you why...

Crazy is a dismissive term for a greater underlying issue. Crazy is when you don't know what is wrong so its labeled as such and tucked away.

Crazy are what women are labeled when they cry uncontrollably after giving birth, unable to bond with their newborn.

Crazy is the mother who hasn't slept for days and snaps at her kids.

Crazy is the word used when you are overwhelmed, and tears stream down your face.

Crazy is Jonestown.

Crazy is Hitler, and his years of occupation. It's not like the European powers ALLOWED him in to the Sudetenlands, oh no, he is just crazy...all by himself.

Crazy is the guy who had copious access to weapons, and shot up a school.

Crazy is the teenage mom who just wanted to feel like a teenager again and leaves her baby with her ten year old brother to babysit.

Crazy is the veteran babbling derogatory terms like "zipperhead" to himself on First and Santa Clara.

Crazy is the person who doesn't agree with your opinion, and therefore is clearly wrong on everything in life...fucker must be crazy.

Crazy is a label for something we are not educated on, and something we do not understand. It's for the explanations that we can't conceive. And I am sure many will say that this post is crazy.

Yes, this word, CRAZY, it drives me fucking crazy.

TT: This could take a while

It's Theme Thursday...and boy do I have a grocery lists of things that I am proud of...and its a list because I am a lazy duck today and am not up for formatting a paragraph.

1. Myself...because I am a motherfucking self proclaimed genius...agree with me or not, but deal with it!

2. My musical taste - I can jam out to Siouxsie Sioux while dancing cumbia with the family...my taste is all over the spectrum...except for pop, keep that Britney Spears/Rihanna blasphemy away from me.

3. My book collection, it is a fire hazard, and can potentially get much bigger, but its a nice size and readily available...I love it.

4. My drinking. My boyfriend might be able to win at the chugging competition, but I can out drink almost everyone when it comes to tequila. I don't get crazy, I just get loving, and I can drink it all night. Bring it the fuck on.

5. I can dance mexican  folklorico, and whether these nimrods like to admit it or not, I was amazing. I had the feet of an angel, with the grace of a flamingo. My skirtwork was on point, and I look like a god damn authentic rancherita when I am on that dance floor.

6. I am proud of my sister, who after having a rod inserted into her hip, can still rock those stilletos, and manage to make a hospital room look like a vegas nightclub. You rock Chavis.

7. I am proud of my brother, who is about to embark on the AIDS/LIFECYCLE, riding his bike from SF to LA...to cure AIDS.

8. I am proud that I am a college graduate, and semi educated (despite what I said on number 1). I think I have a long road of education ahead of me, but I made it this far, and I am not going to lie, I am still excited for myself.

9. I am proud of my WWII collection, which is mostly a Nazi collection, that consists of a 1939 SS Panzergrad special edition cigarette case, made for those that were stationed in Athens, my 1932, first Edition of Hitlerism, written by Louis Leo Snyder, and my 1942 edition of Mein Kampf. No, I am not a Nazi, I am just fascinated by World War II, its atrocities  and how gullible the world can and will be. I have more books...but...you know.

10.This was a really difficult topic for me, despite the joking at the beginning  I don't take pride in a whole lot, but I do take pride in my life, my relationship, my family, and my future.

A future style for a future parent

I am not a mother, but I now hope to be one. Therefore, I am unsure on where this post will stand among the seasoned mothers who have bared the cracked nipples, the sleepless nights, the vomit and shit that follows a nine pounder.

But when it comes to parenting I can tell you this much:

I hope that my child says "please" and "thank you" because I taught him to, and because his parents say it to each other.

I hope that my kid loves to laugh, play music, watch old movies.

I hope that my kid loves to read. I hope they hide in a corner with a book larger than them, losing themselves in a sea of printed pages.

I hope that my kid is as cool as my nephews, and as awesome as my god-daughter.

I hope that this kid loves their father as much as I do, admires the man that I fell in love with, and I hope to hear them say, "my mom picked a great dad".

I hope that my future child is more creative than I, envisioning colors and scenes far beyond their imagination.

I hope that my child loves to love, showers us with hugs and loves to be kissed.

I hope that my kid loves what they do in life (unless he is a pedophile... that's a no go...). I hope that they excel in whatever it is that they do. And I don't  mean excel as in a millionaire, but in a personal goal, that they take pride in their position in this life.

I hope that when I reprimand my child, that they will remember that in life there are consequences to our actions, and that I do this because I love them and it is my job to guide them.

I hope that my kid is never bullied, and if they are, that I have done all that I can to reinforce the beauty inside of them. I hope that the belittling words they hear from others will only empower them to become greater and have more compassion for those sad individuals.



I hope that I don't fail them.