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So the crybaby is getting his wall supposedly declaring a national emergency. But when there is an actual national emergency where is the money going to come from? So much other things in this country to worry about than a fucking wall. Why not take care of the American people, build homes for the homeless, feed the hungry, take care of the veterans, Make America Great Again by putting the people first not your stupid wall and your needs. This is not presidential behavior, this is not raising America’s standard or helping it move towards a better future. We have to keep the rapists, the drugs, the murderers out of our country, we have to build a wall.

My rapist was a truck driver from Ohio, I got my drugs from a supplier who got his from Columbia and most of the people who have committed most of the murders in America are Americans who were born here. Don’t point your little hands at the people crossing the borders, it’s not their fault.

Take responsibility like a president should, if you can’t be sufficient in your job then step down and let someone who can. Because this is not making America Great, you’re embarrassing us all. The world laughs at us. Take your wall and shove it up your ass.

Welcome to the Divided States of America.

Cheeto’s National Emergency

 

 

This is what I see looking out my window today, there is a black cat in the branches of the lilac tree. Snow is melting as it’s near 50° as an occasional avalanche falls off the neighbors roof. It’s calm, and quiet, except for traffic going by.

Androgynous Model Rain Dove Breaks Down the Difference Between Gender and Sex

 

I just do not conform to the standards of what me, being female, is supposed to look like and feel. I hate even wearing pants, like i am actually supposed to with my job, but instead wear nice shorts, they can’t be faded denim or funky colors or above the knee. I have found by wearing the dress pants and black jeans, that are allowed, i was very uncomfortable, causing me to have anxiety issues, and i was sweating profusely in air conditioned places. So, being that i have seen other vendors wearing shorts, one day i decided that i was going to work comfortably, and i wore shorts. The relief was great, even here in Florida where it pretty much shorts weather all year round, it should be a choice to wear something comfortable. I have less anxiety attacks and my production is better and faster.

But, my way of dressing, in mainly men’s clothes, as many of woman’s clothes just do not fit right, whether it be dress shorts and a polo shirt at work or plaid, funky, faded jean shorts, and a tee shirt, with rainbows or skulls, or of bands or sarcastic humor on them, paired with Nike shoes, and depending on whether to wear a hat or not, is my style. I wear men’s boxers, and some of there socks (men’s tend to be a little long and don’t hug my feet like i prefer)but wear a woman’s sport bra.

I often when i was younger wished i didn’t have boobs, i hated them so much that i mainly binded them with ace bandages, though today they now make binders, and when i had my breast cancer scare last year, I was actually kinda excited, because if it was cancer, i would have been overjoyed by having them removed, glad and disappointed when the results came back negative.

But i do not wish for a dick between my legs, ok maybe just for the thought of whipping it out anywhere i had to pee, than finding the perfect spot hidden from people and far from poisonous plants.

I often role played as male characters, played with GI Joe’s, trucks, cars and male dominated sports, climbed the huge oak trees in the backyard, helped dad in the garage with car stuff… was taught how to change a flat tire, the oil, few minor engine repairs, and to pump my own gas. Getting dirty was fun.

My label growing up. Tomboy. There really wasn’t anything else to associate myself with. It was the mid 70s early 80s… and i was starting to feel something completely weird about who i was becoming and yet knew of no word to describe it. It was where girls were starting to make me feel funny and how quickly my face got red when they caught me staring at them. Boys didn’t interest me, though i did make up stories of having boyfriends while i actually had just a girl friend i fooled around with. It was really awkward in gym class in the locker room.

I get called sir alot and i do not mind that. I look like a boy with my short spiky hair and my clothes, they often apologize for the mistake. My theory on that, at least i was acknowledged and not ignored.

I am not conformed to the laws of gender or sexual identity, i do not feel like a girl or a boy. I am just a Tomboy, and I am attracted to women and am married to a woman. There is only one man on this planet who confuses my sexual attraction and he’s Shemar Moore. I don’t know what it is about him. But he’s a hot number!!  

My #MotivationMonday Story

 

It all started for me, this Tegan and Sara life, when I was asked by my girlfriend at that time, if I wanted to go see a band competition that was being held at the university where she was an alumni member.  I was visiting from New York, where I was living in a small farm town 40 miles north of Albany.  As a huge fan of all kinds of music I accepted her invite.  It was the beginning of something that’s often indescribable.  Well, this act came on, two twin girls from Calgary and they hardly had what you would think of as a band.  Memory accounts of what song was played is discouraging but I do remember that they sounded great.   Long story short, they ended up winning the competition with highest marks and it was how I became an instant fan and wanted to know more about this little band with a huge sound.

I managed to get my hands on their demo tapes during the early years, but they were eventually stolen from me by the lovely girlfriend, by then, my ex.  I had the “Yellow Demo” tape, played it constantly and was upset when the girlfriend and I split and she took my shit.  I resonated towards one of the songs on that tape, Hello….and going through the break up was as it was sung on the song…I was feeling “Right now I feel so empty and someday won’t be ending.  Until I’ve done all that I can (all that) …until I’ve done all that I can.  One day it’ll get easier, ‘cause right now I feel so simple.”  I remember thinking well, damn, how did they know how I was feeling.  You just don’t be in a relationship for 7 years and expect when it is over to easily move on, she did find it easy but for me it was hard.

“Just Me” gave me confidence in being single again with “all I have to give this world is me and that’s it, and all I have to show the world is me and that’s it, and all I have to face in this world is me and that’s it.” I had the other tapes, Red and Orange in my possession as well, but taken by her when she left as well as other memorabilia including ticket stubs, pieces of paper with stuff about Sara and Tegan (and Plunk), I had the beginning of an obsessed fan by this time, but she took it with her when she left…I was just left with memories.  But thanks to modern internet I have since purchased the tapes back.

With music, there is no age restriction, you do not have to listen to it according to your age, I am currently 51 and am into all sorts of music, Tegan and Sara are forefront and I have found new music through them, like Lorde, Shura, Ria Mae, among a few. I also get into harder rock, electronic, jazz, some pop and hip hop music, with just a little country thrown into the mix. Without the music, my life would not have been here to enjoy the new ones.   Going back to the year when my father became ill, I was in Orlando, FL at that time, and living in my apartment with a girl I met two months before.  While at work, on November 11,1999, I received a phone call from NY, requesting that I come home, my father’s health was deteriorating.   That frantic race of making phone calls to airlines and trying to get a flight out as soon as possible at the last minute to going to the actual airport with friends and nearly strangling the ticket counter lady because she told me there was no flights leaving Orlando to Albany, NY until 6pm on the 12^th, not even any emergency flights.  I remember calling my mom the next morning and telling her that I couldn’t get a flight out until later that night, but what she didn’t tell me while we were on the phone is that my father had already passed away about two hours before.

(I am in tears as I write this)

I wasn’t told until I landed at the airport at 9pm.  I didn’t get to say goodbye.  This started my downward spiral of depression and anger.  I was mad at my dad for not waiting for me, I didn’t know if he knew if I was on my way.   They usually wait for those who matter most, did I not matter? All these questions all this anger at those who were present when he passed away…dammit I was his youngest child, only child with my mom.  Then this song played while I was in my room at my parents’ house, while listening to the radio and it just made me all the crazier now that I had lost my dad.   “In the Living Years” by Mike and The Mechanics just so happened to come on while I was trying to comprehend by myself the feelings I was having now…seriously? This song about losing a father…. because “I wasn’t there that morning when my father passed away, I didn’t get to tell him all the things I had to say… (next lines don’t apply to me) …I just wish I could have told him in the living years.  Say it loud, say it clear, you can listen as well as you hear. It’s too late when we die, to admit we don’t see eye to eye.”  

 

I went back to Florida after the funeral and went back to trying to live a life but I was unsuccessful.  My father is gone, and a week later, the girl left as well and I just fell apart, getting involved with drinking and drugs, life spiraling out of control, I was depressed more and even as angry as before.  Desperate for something, I stole sleeping pills from a friend’s mothers medicine cabinet and took the entire bottle washed down with a big bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey, I wanted death to become my friend.  While I was lying there getting sleepy, I was listening to indie radio and they played a song I recognized, it was “Hello” by those Quin twins from Calgary…I sat up and listened, “Drinking to yesterday’s news, I’m sorry I was late, I was so blue. Oh, my hands hurt from holding your hands.  And I’m young but it’s hard to believe, that someday I will never see you again.  And you might not believe this, but you’ve changed me so much.  But baby, it’s so hard leaving you. And maybe this was the only way. But right now, I wish I was older, and right now, you look so simple.  Now is not my time, no no now is not my time, and so I said, ‘Hello hello hello I’m right here. I’m right here waiting for…”   I remember there was some knocking on a door, and when it was over, I was lying in a hospital bed.   I was also disappointed for a moment, that I was still here.

 

Music came to my rescue that night, what if by chance I hadn’t been listening to the radio, what if Sara and Tegan never entered the competition or won? What if they never made those tapes? Would I still be here?

 

It wouldn’t be the last time their music would save me, in 2004, they released So Jealous, two years later, the song “Fix You Up” would come to my aid after losing another loved one, this being my grandmother.   What was this life we live when we can’t live with the ones we love? Not many people realized that deep inside I was hurting still after my father died, after all these years, and I still am, tears flow freely writing this, but you wanted to know what motivates us, and music, motivates me…yours mostly…. it’s your fault Tegan and Sara, for the pain I am enduring having to remember all this.  But I am a big girl, I have pulled up my big girl panties and have pushed forward, but dealing with deaths in the family (and in mine they have been plenty) it’s hard…. while writing this part, I am listening to So Jealous.  That song is eventually going to play and I will have to stop because it’s going to make me cry.

 

In 2006, I had just moved back to NY after moving here and there and eventually ending up in Indiana, involved in a committed relationship with a woman whom I am currently married to (and back living in Orlando) …I was excited to move back to NY, to see my grandmother, to finally be able to do the things we used to do, go places we frequented, but we didn’t get to do those things, a couple weeks after moving back my grandmother ended up getting sick and her health went downhill very quick.  On July 12^th, the family was summoned upon her home, and one by one, everyone took their turn to have a talk with Gram, I waited, I was trying to grasp onto the fact that she was dying and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but something brought me to go stand by her side and have a chat, holding her cold hand in mine, we discussed life.  I thanked her for taking care of me, helping me grow, smacking my butt when it was needed, and just telling her that she is loved and how much I loved her.   I bent down and kissed her forehead, her cheek, tip of her nose, and I whispered in her ear, “You can rest now Gram, you can go see Poppy, and my dad.  We are all here, we love you. I love you. Thank you.” I kissed her cheek one last time and left the room, a minute later she was gone.

 

Though I was surrounded by family and friends, I couldn’t deal with all this.   I missed her so much, as much as I missed him…two of my most favorite people in life were no longer here and I had questions about things and no one to ask, for the ones who knew the answers were gone.   I would drive up to the cemetery and sit at their stones and cry, chat, maybe laugh, but mostly cry.  One drive back home, that is all I wanted to do was just drive….FAST! I had a mix cd of Tegan and Sara in my stereo and a thought is going through my head, as I am driving fast on roads I knew like the back of my hand, screeching tires taking corners too fast, sometimes going over the yellow line, playing chicken with oncoming traffic…. yes, that is what I was thinking until “Fix You Up” came on and I slowly eased off the gas… “Well, there’s not a lot for you to give, if you’re giving in and there’s not a lot for you to feel if you’re not feeling it, you bring it up and bring it in and we’ll get you fixed up in no time. And what I wanted most, what I wanted most What I wanted most, was to get myself figured out.  And what I figured out, what I figured out was I needed more time to figure you out.”  Brakes applied, I stopped and pulled over, and cried.

 

*perfect timing…Fix You Up has reached my ears.

Fast forward to 2016, my life is ok, still here in Orlando with the wife and our fur kids.  We are being blasted by the campaigns of folks wanting to be our leader and being mocked for one who is a buffoon running, like a joke on the world.  But something is trending on the news and it is startling to hear of the countless shootings happening all over the country.  Then in June, we here in the City Beautiful receive news that there is a mass shooting at Pulse nightclub, I don’t need to get into details of what happened but it affected me, my wife (she works security at the hospital most victims were taken too), the Latino community and especially our LGBTQ family.  We saw so much pain and suffering, tears and memorials in the months following and I was ecstatic to hear you were coming to Orlando in November.  When Trump won the election and my feelings about that and Pulse and everything in between was happening, my one goal was to somehow get to The Beecham to see you and in the kindness of strangers, now friends on Facebook, I could go see you and it was a necessity.  You were affected just like many in the LGBT family around the world we all had that one connection, and you shared that with us here in Orlando, and that is one of the main reasons why you are loved by so many fans.  My wife calls me obsessed with you but maybe after reading this (sorry it’s so long but I tend to write too much) she and others may possibly understand the power that two women from Canada have on people, where music speaks the volumes that other artistic venues can’t, I sometimes can’t put into words what I want to say but can find the perfect lyric in a song that completes what I want to say.  That is why you have the fan base that you do.  I am glad to have had the chance to watch you go from nothing to everything that is AWESOME….and I thank you.

 

 

 

The excitement of choosing a ring that represents who you are in high school, is something we look forward to.  Who am I, what do I want to do with my life? I chose my ring with help from two people.  Two who are no longer here, two that I promised I would do something with the artistic creativity that I had and one that I enjoyed.  My grandmother, was always supportive of me, she would always tell me how great of an artist I was.  Drawing and painting came easy, it was a natural ability that I had, and I did a lot of projects for friends and family when something needed a touch up.  For awhile, I found a small hobby of painting mailboxes and sold them at garage sales or took requests for specific designs or animals for people my grandmother or parents knew.  I had that ability, I no longer have it, though I long for it.  I dream of being able to paint or draw the way I used to, but thanks to not being able to hold a pen or paintbrush correctly, not being able to feel in in my hands, it took away that desire of my artistic endeavor.  So you turn to other creations, as I have taken to photography and writing.

My father, he also pushed me to go forth with my art.  In school my art teacher pulled me into elements I was not used to but I strayed away from it, because it made me feel uncomfortable.  I pushed away school and all it offered me, because I didn’t associate myself with many, the many who often made me feel like shit.  I was given the chance to go onto an art school in New York City.  But my self esteem ruined by bullies in school, kept me from going. My father, said if I wanted to go, he would send me and my Gram was telling me that I needed to go….I never went.

Instead, I hit the job force, and 9 years later, I ended up in Florida and the story of my class ring takes a turn to being an object of people’s fascination.  It was worth money to many, it was taken from me once to be apprasied.  My initial $400 ring that my parents bought was worth a little bit more…it was worth more than that to me.  I got it back.  And it was still sought out like the Precious in The Lord of The Rings. I fought them from taking it, I severed ties with them and then in 1997, after a night out on the town, I was involved in a fist fight with some drunk chick, after punching her in the nose, busting it open, and cops called, I made my gettaway back to my friend’s house I was staying at, put my ring on the tail of the cat ring holder I had next to my bed and nursed my sore knuckle, went to bed. 2 days later, my ring was gone and so was someone who was staying also at the house, a friend of a family, who were nothing but trouble for me in a total of 4 years.

I lost it.  My ring was gone. My at one point in life a promise ring to do some artistic creativity, to make a name for myself.  Gone.  Someone told me it’s just a ring, why are you upset about a piece of silver.  Because it had a meaning, it was mine.

Years go by, in those years a few later, my father passed away.  I was in Florida trying my hardest to get back home, but it was too late.  When I came home, I ran into that someone who I felt stole my ring, and she didn’t deny it.  She didn’t have it anymore. I figured they needed money and pawned it.  7 years later, I lost my grandmother, I had just moved back to New York and was looking forward to spending time missed with her, but it was such a short amount of time, she was ill and I spent our last moments together, telling her how much I loved her, how much she taught me, and told her that I was sorry I didn’t go to Art School. She was holding on but she needed to rest and I told her that she go rest and that she was the best grandmother ever.  I kissed her cheek and left the room, not too long after she passed away.

I always wondered where my ring was, and was even considering buying another one, but it wouldn’t have been the same, it wouldn’t have the same meaning.

Then on Sunday night, I get this message from Jeffrey Hewitte, who lives in Melbourne, FL

 

When I found his address and phone number, I texted him, and asked for a photo of the ring that was found, getting excited.  He sent me this:

 

It was mine.

I sent him my mailing address and he told me that he will mail it out on Monday, and I thanked him and he said he was glad to help.  To Pay It Forward!!!

I got my ring today.  He shipped it Priority Mail 1 Day.

I just texted him, that I received it and to express my thanks once again.

It’s a big snug, thanks to a few broken bones over the years, but I will probably not wear it and will keep it some place safe.   I still can’t believe after 19 years I got it back.  Funny how it ended up where it did.  Thank You Jeffrey…I will  Pay It Forward!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There once was Trump in Nantucket,
He’s a dick head so much he could suck it.
He said, with a smirk
Because he’s a jerk,
“If America was a cunt I would fuck it!”