I am offensive...

To some people's very natures apparently. I am very often not shocked when my being myself is offensive to others because it tends to happen in front of my face and I sort of expect it from certain personality types. What *does* shock me, however, is when I'm apparently offensive to people who I would never expect it from. Family members. I have one set of relatives that I've managed to piss off everyone but one cousin in the family. She's the only one who hasn't given up on me. There are others in the family that are friends with everyone in my immediate family... except for me. And not for a lack of trying on my part. I'm just not a desirable enough situation to be in contact with?

I don't get it. I have PLENTY of offensive people that I deal with on a regular basis because I love them, regardless of how they act or because there is some form of obligation there. I'm not really...hurt(?) persay. I think maybe I'm more annoyed. At least I know why my aunt took me off. She told me. Why am I so offensive to them? I honestly don't know. Not these people. Not on the level that as part of their family (despite the fact that there are some of them that would rather not be a part of our family at all and yet still manage to be friends with my siblings) I'm too (abrasive,fat,interracial,rude,liberal, etc) for their tastes.

The coolest thing I can find about being randomly removed from family and formerly good friend's lists with no knowledge or fight to clue me in as to the reasoning? I get to make up my own. I've decided that their all racist republicans. Because I can.

It shouldn't bother me because if they don't want to be involved in my life even on a small level like being possibly exposed to my facebook (or me theirs). But it prickles me a bit. I've not had a bad thought about some of these folks until they decided that I wasn't.... seriously, desirable is the best description of how I feel about that. I'm so happy that I have some family who would never turn me away and friends that I know never would. I'm thankful for them.

Here's to hoping that I don't need family for support any time soon. Because I guarantee that if I'm not even allowed to be a small part of your life, I am definitely not going to be there for the big stuff and wouldn't ask them to be a part of mine. Almost makes me wish that I did have a wedding so that I could make an issue out of not inviting them. Oh...but I'm not vengeful like that. I just like to have the thoughts sometimes. Ugh... ok I'm going to stop letting this bother me and get some stuff done now.

Infertility

Brandon and I had a conversation last night. It was very brief and we both were a little closed off about the whole topic. But it's been weighing on my mind today. I mostly push the bigger, broader things in my life away to arms length so that I can focus on the day-to-day. I don't ignore it or pretend it's not there, but I don't want to spend every day wallowing in self-pity and depression. It's not who I am. This particular topic of conversation is one of those things that brings that stuff on.

I was walking through Walgreens yesterday afternoon while waiting for my prescriptions to be ready. Every time I walked by something designed for children or mothers, I made a little light notation that I would probably never need that.. or that... won't need to worry about that problem, or those. It's moments like that when I have that little ping hit me that while I really hope it's not true. The little ping feels like the realization that I will never have children. I will not be a mother. Inside my body, that sentence sounds like "I will.... never (feeling of dread, disappointment, sadness and fear mixed with a skip of my heart and the sound of tears in my head)... have.... children. Oh god. How can I never be a mother? I'd make such an excellent one. I deserve to have me passed on. Why am I not allowed? What did I do wrong? Why not those other people who do such horrible horrible things? Why are they allowed to have children anytime they want and I am not? I don't necessarily believe in a higher power, but that doesn't keep me from being angry at God when I feel that way. And all of these pings... these thoughts of helplessness and sadness seem to pass through me within a matter of seconds. And then I move on with my day...

Sure, it takes me a little longer to be happy for someone who is pregnant or adopting. I am happy for them. Or at least I will be.... eventually. But I can't be at the beginning. It's the stab of jealousy and smidge of anger I feel towards that person for having what I am seemingly incapable of. It really makes me angry with people who have a small horde of children (and sometimes a large horde) and they want to complain about how those children are affecting their lives. PLEASE be careful about what you say to me because it is absolutely not below me to remind you of what you have in a way that will/should make you feel horrible about it.

Now the reality of it is that I wouldn't get pregnant if I could help it right now anyway. I'm so close to healing with the PG and I need to be on the drugs I'm on for a big longer. And then, because of the painful side effects, I need to wean off of them. I can't take them at all if I'm pregnant. Not to mention, I just would much rather be healthier if I'm going to be carrying a child and then caring for one. It's just common sense.

As any female (and many many males) know, common sense, logic and  emotions are very often NOT on the same wavelength. So I get a little depressed. I certainly don't bring up the conversation with Brandon. He got a little wind of my thoughts last night and got the impression that I've given up an formed the opinion that I will (absolutely) never have children. I don't want to feel that way. I want to continue to think that there is hope. That somehow, I will heal from all of the current stuff, get all the other stuff in order and magically be healed hormonally. It's a bit of fairyland promises to myself. I don't necessarily believe them... all the time.

I guess the bottom line is that I want to have children. Very badly. I know that Brandon does too. He's even picked out the lullaby he would sing to the babies. He deserves to be a dad. I want to give him that. After all, he gave me something very special in marrying me. I want to be able to walk around the baby stuff and say "thank goodness I don't need that stuff anymore!" because I've already had to use it once (or twice). If I'm sad, or standoff-ish around your pregnant self or your children... or your happiness, I hope that you understand. It's not about you. It's about my dealing with my own emotions. Maybe now that I've written this down, I can get back to doing productive things instead of thinking about it.

Medical, Issues, and Apologies

I never seem to know the proper place to be able to vent about my...erm...issues. Mostly medical. I can't stand that person in the crowd that seems to have nothing to do but complain about everything that's wrong with them. I most certainly don't want to be that person. The problem is finding that balance. Where do I stop telling people so that they aren't over-informed and feel burdened by it but still manage to know what's going on in my life. There are so many people who really don't know what is truly happening with me and there are a few who do. I honestly don't know who's who anymore. So I'm writing this here for those people and I will link it to my facebook account with your names tagged so that you can try to get an idea of how I'm feeling and what's going on. I've gotten into the routine of responses like "I'm ok today. Today is a good day," and "I've felt better and I've felt worse" with a big grin and joking nature to try and push it off to the side. Honestly, for the most part, I do feel that way much of the time. Maybe like 85-90% of the time, I'm ok or better. Unfortunately, the left over 10-15%? It stacks up. And then I get it all in my face at one time in a big bang.

I know this... I am in a rough spot right now because I just...feel... tired. I'm tired of people, work, pain, electric shocks, medication,  MD appointments, and mostly of just being tired. I've always been fiercely independent. But I'm just not anymore. I want to be. Very very badly. I want to be able to nudge things out of my way with powerful muscles (they are under there hiding amongst the fat) like I've always been able to do. But I can't. I want to be able to walk more than a 1/2 mile without it causing me pain in one or all of a hundred ways. But I can't. I would like to have the stamina to even think of walking 1/2 a mile anymore since the pain began. But I can't.... I would like to not have to depend on other people to help me into a standing position from time to time because of the pain involved in getting up and down. It's so much easier (and painful) just to stand for a long time and then sit for a long time so I don't have to go through the pain of up and down and the uncomfortable nature of having to ask someone else for help. And being me, it really doesn't get much easier as time goes on. I've been counting on my sweet sweet husband to help me in times of pain and exhaustion for longer than we've been married. I would love to be able to give him a break. All of those things....but I can't.

More importantly, I would love to be able to lose it when I want, cry when I want and otherwise freak the fuck out whenever I want to. But I can't. Because while the help I ask for may be an inconvenience (usually to me more than them), none of the people I see and deal with on a regular basis deserve that. I am. Just. So. Very. Tired. I think I'm honestly probably too pooped to even begin to freak out. I'd probably lose it. I have thrown things in frustration and anger in the last month when I haven't do anything even close to that violent in many years. Not even when my mother was alive and making me angry every day.

So here's the medical crap going on with me so those of you who don't know, can catch up. I have an autoimmune dysfunction called Pyoderma Gangrenosum. You can click there for the link to read the blahblahs about that. It started with one little sore in May 2012 and was officially diagnosed during a hospital stay in August 2012. It's been a non-stop (I don't even know what to call this crap) ever since. I started with two wounds and ended up with 26 at it's worst. Right now I'm down to 5 stubborn little fuckers.

 For me what it does is cause me to have to wear bandages 24/7 with frequent changes, infrequent bathing (no soaking the wounds in water for a long time b/c of bacteria and because it's effing painful), costs me time, money and energy to do almost anything outside the necessary. They believe that I have Psioratic Arthritis. I wasn't sure about that when they first diagnosed it. They aren't 100% and I was closer to 30%. But the longer my immune system gets whacked around with a bat, the more different types of autoimmune issues show up and I now am showing several different kinds of psoriasis. So much fun. Just let me tell you.

I have a once a  month recurring (and expensive) treatment in New Orleans of immunosuppressant drugs that do exactly that. They suppress my immune system. It makes it harder to fight off illness and infection, but it's allowing my overactive immune system to chill out. I see this great surge of healing towards the end of that month. Right about the time all of the debilitation joint pain starts from the rumored psioratic arthritis. I'm leaking like a faucet with a missing stopper. Usually my legs are tinted yellow and pink. It's not pretty. And it smells pretty bad too. About a week after the treatments, I tend to get some kind of infection, usually cellulitis, in the tissue around my wounds. It's painful and my calves usually swell to twice their size. One of the therapists I work with is the one who noticed the trend and I've asked the dermatologist for preventative antibiotics at her suggestion. They would have probably worked this last time had I not spent several hours standing in the swamp after Brandon's accident. More recently, I'm also having a problem with my nerves. I get electric shocks of nerve pain that rolls from my knees to my feet. It's like that sensation of the chills only more painful and very very frequently.  That's really only the stuff I can think of off hand. One by one, these things probably wouldn't be so problematic. However, the fact that I deal with all of this on a daily basis for the last 1 year and 2 months makes it utterly exhausting and I'm running out of good mood juice. But I'm trying. So please bare with me while I attempt to get all of this (emotions n shit) back under control. If I snap at  you or ignore you or seem like I've written you off, I haven't. I just want all the other crap to end so that I can get back to my happy, bubbly self (or as happy and bubbly as I'm capable).

I love you and sorry I'm so long winded. :)

One Million Moms....w.o.w.

I wish I could say that I weren't shocked by the blatant hate exhibited on a website that was designed by spouting off Christian beliefs and ideals, but I am. I really really am shocked. It's utterly amazing to me that these people are actively fighting against organizations like Girl Scouts of America simply because they accepted a transgendered girl into their fold. First of all, bravo to GSA for making a decision that will go to help future girls with the same problems. Second, it's obvious to me that these women have perfect children, with no birth issues, coping issues or physical issues that require a little understanding. Either that or each and every one of these women have severe difficulties with reality and medication control.

Transgender and hermaphroditic children are not a product of a Godless family, a lack of prayer, or any other religious affiliation. It is Biology. And the more quickly that we can assist these children in learning to be who they are, not be ashamed, and not have to deal with the hatred brought on by holier-than-thou (literally) Christian...assholes. Believe me, their lives are going to be hard enough without adding to it.

Now don't get me wrong, I think that their idea to send letters to companies who are supporting teenage and children programming that involve a high amount of sexual or inappropriate content should be applauded. Keeping children children until they are no longer children should be the goal of every good parent, in my opinion. I, also, am all about having good Christian values. But my idea of good Christian values does NOT involve acts of hate for those who do NOT share those values. That, in point of fact, makes you a horrible Christian. That kind of hatred perpetuates hate crimes that go beyond words. That kind of hatred is contagious. It justifies your children growing up with hatred, instead of light.

I am not a mother. But I believe I can honestly say that my convictions and ideals about how human beings should treat each other, no matter how they personally believe, will not change should my becoming a mother ever become a reality.

To date, One Million Moms has taken issue with the following:
Polyamorous relationships
Gay rights
Girl Scouts of America (citing GSA's promotion of lesbianism)
Old Navy (for going gay)
Family Guy (which I sort of get from a mother's standpoint, but it's funny)
Disney (for allowing Gay Day to happen in their park)
Oprah (really?? For interviewing Jenna Jameson)
Armani Exchange (for the audacity to occasionally show models that are same-sex)
7-Eleven (for carrying the Playboy issue in which Marge Simpson posed....*blink*)
Avon
Home Depot
CBS
Good Morning America
...

And the list gone on...and on...and on.. What probably upsets me more than the random acts of pure unadulterated hatred is the fact that at the cool mention from a few zealots, many of the companies that they are so venomously bashing and harassing, are removing support and ad space from these issues.

Well, I think it's time to stand up for the other side. I would like to support the right to remove One Million Moms because it is doing nothing more than offending my very nature with its prejudice and hatred. I think we should all stand and take action now! Boycott them, their ideals and their lives. I also thing that we should remind them of the Joy part about the Christianity thing. Because coming from them, it sounds like a profanity. Oh....and I sincerely recommend therapy for the head "moms" for believe the way that they do. :)

Changes

I realize that our lives are forever changing. But when you are involved in the daily process, it's hard to notice the changes that happen over time. The big changes are more significant and that's where I am now. Change is something I have never been rightly comfortable with. I suppose most people I know are that way. I'm not good at the pain and all the negative things that tend to come with pain, although I am getting better at it. The idea doesn't seem as insurmountable as it once did.

I suppose the biggest change in the last year was the loss of my mother. It's been a very odd year. Most days are good and seem like everything is going well and the death of my mother, while ever present, doesn't seem like that big of a deal. I think it's all perspective, but that's not really the point. Of course, there are other days that I feel the pain of that huge loss very deeply and very acutely. It has helped tremendously in the last three months that I've met someone and already am feeling those touches of long-term love effects.

His name is Brandon. And he is good for me. He's made me realize that I can do all of these things I want to do and have been stalling about. He is actually a lot alike me in those ways and I believe that we can motivate each other forward to get some big life things accomplished. I admit that it makes me nervous to be in love with someone after such a short time, but not so much that it scares me away from the idea. I've been hesitant to talk about it up until now just in case it turns out bad. But after three months, I don't feel the need to kill him or harm him in some way. That, alone, speaks volumes about him and the way I feel about him because my level of intolerance for other people in my personal space is almost infamous and has been a source of amusement among my friends for many years. I am withholding all my professions of a life together, no matter how often he and I speak about it, until we have had our first big fight and have survived it. It doesn't even seem to be on the horizon and I'm not looking to cause it.

He is a good guy and comes from a good family. What family I've met so far I like and it seems that they like me. At least, they have no major objections to me so far. I'm happy about that. He has a very deep respect for his parents and I would very much like them to love me, in time. There were some initial tensions about how his family would feel about me. I am the first white girl he has ever dated. While he is not the first black guy that I've dated, knowing how that was for me, I was nervous at the reaction his family would have. They don't seem to care much about that as much as they are concerned that he will end up hurt. That makes me like them even more. I knew how my immediate family would react. Their only contention, for the years they've known that I am not the personality type to stay within one specific race, was that he is a good guy and that I'm happy. I love that my family raised me that way and feel that way as well. I'm still not sure how the rest of my family will react, but I'll be honest, I don't care. They are not involved in my relationship with him and won't be. However, it does say a lot about Brandon that I am looking forward to introducing him to my extended family so that they get to know him. He is one of the few I've ever brought home, of any race.

I am currently revising my resume and am ready to join the real world again. I thank the time I had here at Walmart to spend a year with minimal responsibility. Walmart also introduced me to the man I plan on spending many many more years with. So I'm not unhappy about the time I've spent there, but I am not a retail lifer. I can never be enough of a kiss-ass to middle-management to stay in retail. I'm more suited to a situation where I can speak my mind when I find problems and not be made into a bad seed because of it. I'm not saying that's what Walmart, specifically, is doing. It's just the magical world of retail, like it or not. Don't rock the boat. Don't tip that delicate balance of making more money than people should have while trying to pretend to care about the customer's needs. It's not me.

So, I am going to take some advice from my father and start sending out my resume looking for a researching job. Even if it's a crap job with a crap company to start, I need some job experience doing it. I have plenty of personal experience researching random information. I love it. And I think that over the last few years, between my genealogy and school, I've discovered a natural talent for it. My biggest problems in find a job doing that will be my lack of a degree in any related field and companies that may not have a need for it. I'm hoping that there are companies that have a need for it, but don't know it yet and are willing to give me a chance to prove myself. It's worth a shot. I can't keep doing what I'm doing. It doesn't pay my bills, almost at all, I'm not happy doing it and I feel like I'm too smart to keep doing what I'm doing. I refuse to stay in this rut. So I'm wishing myself luck and am going to attempt to get out of my comfort zone and try and imagine myself doing something I've never imaged before. It will be an interesting adventure.

Words

Words can do funny things to you. They can incite beauty, pain, memories, hatred, and a plethora of other emotions and actions. They get us motivated, whether for good or evil. I am greatly affected by words in my life. The simplest of them bring me great joy. From a man, all I need to hear is "mine" to make me soar.

It's easy to tell someone that words are just words. And sometimes they are. They are so often empty of any real emotion. It depends on the situations and circumstance.

I have always been a big reader. A careful compilation of words can totally immerse me into a new world and let me escape. And most importantly, to me, words allow me to express myself in ways that very little else does.

Unfortunately when you are so affected by words, they can cripple you just as easily as make your life more enriched. Last night some words were spoken to me in a drunken state that hurt me to my core. Rationally, I know that they weren't meant in the spirit of hatred that they were said. But that makes little difference when they are emotional in nature. They hit to the very core of what I sometimes already feel.

I love my family. I am a very firm believer in the fact that no matter what problems there mat be in your family, you should support them when they need it and knock them down when they need it. And they should do the same for you.

The words that hurt me last night will stay with me for a long time and it may be awhile before I can feel forgiveness for them. I don't need help in feeling guilty about my mother or bad about my seeming inability to have children. The fact that these reminders came from someone in my own family is what is making this so hard to deal with. I may overstep my bounds on occasion, but it doesn't matter. I'll be ok. I know that I'm a good person with a big heart and I'm not going to let these words affect me in the long term. But for now I need to feel this pain so that, eventually, I can forgive this pain.

Restless Thoughts

There are many words that I consider vulgar. None of those are any of the normal vulgarity referred to by the common public. Words that are vulgar to me are those associated with meanings or emotions I find to be particularly vulgar on a day-to-day basis. Vulnerability, loneliness, betrayal, infertile, and a host of other similar types of words are the worst ones you can use...

The worst word in that one is vulnerability. All of the other vulgarity involved in my word list tie into that one. I was vulnerable as a child because I was a child. I was naive to the world around me and I'm thankful that I was. There are so many worse options. I stayed vulnerable because I had compassion, tenderness and, unfortunately for me, I wore my heart on my shoulder. Many situations that took that vulnerability for granted caused me to harden up and become much harder to hurt (visibly). If you've ever read anything I've written, it's obvious that I still wear it on my sleeve, I've just put a thin protective covering over it.

I am still, consistently, shocked by the behavior of people. As much of the bad, sad, difficult, unimaginable (etc) that I've witnessed as there has been, and I find it amazing that my vulnerability is so fragile that I'm nearly devastated by the simple, hurtful acts that some people show towards others, animals, and themselves. I'm not talking about any particular thing that has happened recently. But rather, everything I witness that shocks me to my core, whether those around me realize it or not.

In no particular order, these are a few of the things I've witnessed recently that have caused my hair to stand on end and my heart to become a little sadder. A man stepped on a mouse and killed it because (he says) it was going to bite him. He was wearing boots and the mouse was on the ground; A woman blatantly talking about someone who was in earshot, making hurtful remarks about that person and then shrugging it off when noticed; the very recent shooting in Arizona of several people, killing and wounding many; one woman's negativity so affecting those around her that their negativity affects everyone like a wave; the wishing of people dead just because their views aren't shared...

A lot of the things I find shocking seem trivial on a broad scale, but they aren't to me. My brother once said that I was empathetic and at the time I just sort of rolled my eyes and chalked it up to everyone being able to put themselves in someone else's shoes. I have thought quite a bit about that in the years since he said it and I think that maybe he's right. There is a group of people in Slidell that I actually have quite a bit in common with socially. But I refuse to meet them and hang out with them when they are all together because I can feel the negativity and vampire-esq attitudes of those that attend. Individually I like them just fine, but as a group they leave the metaphorical metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

I realize that when I write, I write a lot of depressing and negative...prose? But I only write when I have things weighing my mind down. Sometimes it is about me and other times it isn't. Then again, there are times, like now, when it's a bit of both. I'm really not like this all the time. I LOVE to laugh. I love to look for the humor in all situations. I love to see beauty in anything from another person, to a sign on a building. I love to entertain and make people around me feel good. When you hear me making funny, sarcastic and dry comments and then turn around and be sugary sweet to someone I don't know, don't assume that I'm faking that change or the things I'm saying. I am genuinely happy to help in any way I can... and to anyone that needs it. The beauty in the human world, and most definitely outside of it, is so infinite and so (here's that word again) vulnerable that it hurts me to my core to see anything mess that up.

When I'm down and can't give you a reason as to why, just understand that it isn't going to last. I will find beauty again. You just have to give me time to work out my disappointment in whatever I've seen, done or heard.

Using This Thing For Good

I keep saying I'm going to write. I know that writing is cathartic and one of my few ways of really being able to get those things that bother me off my chest. The other major one is being ignored as deeply as writing is. I feel like I have all of this pent up energy built up inside me that is dying to get out and I can't seem to find the faucet. Either that or I'm afraid to find it because it's been rusted shut and I can't find the tools to fix it.

When I write, I try not to think about what I'm writing or the people that may/may not be reading it. Unfortunately, one of those two things seems to be getting in my way over the last two or three years. So my words have had very little flow. I think this all has to do with the same rut I've gotten myself stuck in. I told my best friend the other night that I feel like I'm continuously running myself into a wall. I can see that there are more than two ways to get around the wall, but I am running myself into it anyway. I'm not sure what is on the other side, but I would rather the comfortability of the same pain of having my nose smashed into the bricks over and over again than to try and figure out new ways of getting myself hurt. I just can't go on like this. If I do, I'll end up a severely tattooed, 60-yr old woman with cats and renting a crappy apartment in the middle of a nowhere town. No children, no prospects, no...anything. As long as I continue to sit on my ass, that is where I'm going to end up.

I would very much like to see myself doing some of the following: being more creative, actively finding a job that is more suitable to who I am, using this blog for something other than depressing rants, getting more involved with my photographs, finally design that wood carving I've been avoiding., etc. They are goals. Now I just need to see if I'm able to follow through with them.

**side note: I know you're watching, but I can't understand why you don't just speak to me. Even if it's to tell me what you *really* think of me. But the move is in your hands. It always has been. I'll love you for my whole life. Just so you know.**

A New Year

I'm sitting and listening to random fireworks go on all over the city. I can hear people start to celebrate a new year coming and the ending of the year past. Ringing out the old. 2010 will not be forgotten by me for the rest of my life. I lost my mom this year. I had a short dream the other night and when I woke up, I wanted to cry. I heard her voice. Up until that moment, I realized that I remember my grandmother's smell and her voice more than I remember my mom's.

I remember so many odd things about my mom. In particular, I remember how unique she was. A crazy concoction of impossible to like, impossible to hate, brilliance, defiance, stupidity, tenderness, and love. She was more open-minded than anyone I have ever come into contact with. In my youthful rebellion, I often found myself saying things to shock her and rarely found any fruits of the labor. She was hard to shock, and when you did it was because you hit below the belt and she was more hurt than shocked. She loved people for who they were and even when she didn't agree with what they did.

My mom was a cognitive thinker and had a cognitive humor. She often referred to my sister and I as "snipers" because we hit hard, below the belt and with precision. Well we learned it from her. She was a high speed bullet in conversations and could out-think, out-reason, out-dirty and just plain top anyone she went up against.

So much of that was forgotten or pushed away in these last years of her changing so much. I forgot how much I adored her, loved her, how much she loved us and the fact that she was so damned funny. The fact is, I miss my mother, wish she were here, wish she were around to see me finally accomplish anything real in my life, bear witness to all of my precious moments and wish I could hear her laugh that deeply amused belly laugh she used to let go.

I think that it's been a little harder for me to let go because I have so much guilt associated with her death. And I'm sure some of that is normal. But it still hurts that I did all of those things I did. I'll just leave it at that.

Suffice it to say, I will miss her everyday of my life. I don't ever want to stop missing her because of who she really was, not the person she had become towards the end. I will not, however, miss this year. I have never welcomed the end of a year so much. I am going to celebrate by having a glass of wine and going to bed early.

I wish everyone a very Happy New Year and one filled with all of your wishes and dreams fulfilled.

It was the best of times...

And it's definitely the worst of times. I wrote about my friendship strifes last time. Well apparently there was more to it than I realized with one part of that. A friendship that I've had for over 10 years seems to have ended. At one point in time, she knew me better than anyone in this world did, and fairly often, better than I knew myself. My trip in August seems to have changed that. At the request of others, my trip was not only to enjoy some time with my friends and have a vacation from work, but also to enlighten those I was to be visiting with a fresh perspective (aka, truth-telling sessions in which participants get "told" about themselves). I tend to do these types of things normally,but when it's requested I do take it a little farther. So, admittedly, I was a little taken aback when, with my services rendered while I was there, I have been (basically) shut off from communication from these participants.

I was devastated when this friendship was suddenly jerked from me a year or so ago, and grateful to have it back after a 10-month, non-consentual hiatus. Maybe that time hardened me. Perhaps it was the circumstances under which the communication seems to have ended this time. Maybe it's other factors of my life playing into the situation, seeing as my life has changed rather drastically in the last 8 months or so. Whatever the case, what does it say that I'm not terribly upset that I'm no longer in real contact (other than being on the FB friend's list) with someone who was my platonic soul-mate, my bitch, my heart and my ultimate in best friends? I'm having to fight away that tendency I have to be cold towards the situations I find distasteful. I am only trying to remain warm because we do have such a long and crazy history together.

Don't get me wrong. I do, and will continue to miss what we had. But I've missed it before. This isn't the only friendship that has been jerked away from me, suddenly and without explanation and I'm sure there are more to come. But it gets harder, each time and no matter the person, to remain open to new situations. That constantly hurting, ripping, and shredding of someone you are supposed to care about, whether it's intended to be malicious or not, is akin to betrayal in my eyes. You might as well rob me, kill my cat and then have me arrested. No, that is not an invitation to cause me pain. I do not react well.

I think maybe that between the last time, knowing her and the situation as I do, and the amount of emotional pain I've had to endure this year are enough. I don't think I'm willing to entertain any more than self-inflicted or invited pain until after the new year.

Reject this...

I randomly find things that are awesome in some form or another and I become inspired to create myself. Not that I actually sit down and create. I am completely lazy about those things. I have always been easily distracted by those things that I don’t require thinking to do (watching tv, playing games, etc). I’m not even so sure that it’s necessarily laziness. Oh, don’t get me wrong, part of it is. I am a lazy human being and I probably always will be. I can talk myself down from a ledge faster than anyone I know and then manage to go blasé about the entire idea of going back up. It’s not fear. It’s lack of concern. It’s really kind of annoying.

Anyway, I do believe I’m beginning to discover that a good chunk of my unwillingness to do these things I want to do so badly is fear. I am already painfully aware of the multitude of things I suck at. These are things that I can’t always fix (at least not in a hurry). I can’t fix my hormones (without medical intervention)or the fact that I’m considered unattractive to the male species (yes, species). I’m attractive to some of them. Unfortunately, the majority of that category are a whole issue unto themselves. But I’m not here to bash them. I’m here for me… as always. I’m not the only sniper with their gun facing backwards, but I’m a clean draw.

I don’t doubt that I could create any of these art pieces that my muse, ever so lovingly, shoves in my head and slams it around until I can’t take it anymore. I found out a few semesters ago that I can, in fact, draw. And that’s great. I still can’t do people, but that may be because I refuse to try after sucking at it a few times. It falls under the same reasoning of why I rarely sing in front of people. It is simply because people have jokes. And I don’t appreciate the ones that only they think are funny. Those types of jokes make me seethingly angry. The simple words, “Don’t quit your day job! ” are enough to cause my blood to boil and the need to want to become severely violent. I suppress those feelings of unwanted anger and the following bewilderment by just not singing in front of anyone that I don’t fully trust with my heart and soul. The few of those people that there are. And so it goes with all of those creative things I really want to do. Laziness and fear. The two, unending and unyielding banes of my existence.

Now why, you might ask, do I let these seemingly trivial things bother me if I can identify them? Because I tire of being constantly criticized. By everyone. All the time. Whether they know they’re doing it or not. Up until recently I thought that my closest friends were the people that I could totally be myself with and not have any repercussions of things I might say or ways I might behave. Sadly, it’s not true. I very recently had two separate friends be offended by me and things I’ve said. And on the one hand, it bothers me that I would have bothered them to that point. On the other, I’m kind of annoyed by the fact that my person or personality has not changed. And when I’m with my friends, I most certainly do not expect their true selves to be hid away to appease me. I’m all about “be who you are and I’m going to like it or I’m not.” So why should I have to do the same to appease certain of my friends who are put off by the same mannerisms I’ve had the whole time I’ve known them? I don’t run around in public (or in private for that matter) screaming violently everything that is personal and private about that person. One did not appreciate being the butt of my jokes in a social setting. The same social setting where everyone, at one point in the night or another is the butt of my joke. Myself more than others. I do understand her point to an extent. The particular social setting in question is one where respect should be upheld between one type of person and another. Blah blah blah…too complicated for this. I know what she means and I appreciate her letting me know that she was bothered by it. But why do I suddenly need to watch how I am with her when I haven’t had to do that in the years I’ve known her. Now I feel like I’m going to be walking on eggshells around her and I don’t like that feeling with anyone I know. The other person in question offended me by being an ass. I can only assume that he decided to act like an ass towards me because he was offended that I told him the truth about himself (which I’ve done since the day I met him, only this time it’s been a couple of years since I’ve had the opportunity). I say I can only assume he is offended because he has chosen to take the opposite road of previous friend and isn’t going to speak to me at all. Granted, it’s just two people in my list of friends, but these two people matter to me.

I’m not sure how I got off on that tangent, and in keeping with tradition, I’m not going to go back and read this before I post it. It’s more cathartic to just put it out there. Although, knowing I’m posting it here leaves a pretty good chance that it won’t get read at all. I’m either ok with that or it sucks.

Back to the creativity thing. I want to make art. I want to make art all the time. I get pictures in my head of things I want to see as art by my own hands and I can’t get them out until I play World of Warcraft or Bejeweled until I can’t remember what they look like. It’s getting to the point of ridiculous. I’m taking the semester off of school and then I’m hoping to go to more of an art school. You’d think I would want to be practicing my ass off in preparation for what I’m sure will be the most critical part of my school career (and a career it is turning out to be). Whatever I decide to do about this particular conundrum needs to be settled quick, fast, and in a hurry. I know I can’t keep going in the direction I am because I’ll never get anything done this way. This 4.5 month funk is turning into a full-out depression and I really am not going to deal well with that.

On a side note: guys who say they are interested and really make a girl believe it (for whatever reason they put that kind of effort into it) and then never contact them again…need to suck my dick. Is there hypnotherapy for rejection issues? Cause I’m hauling around the motherload.

Sudden Bursts of Emotion

Grief is such a strange happening. I'm fine most days. I am moving on with my life and working, smiling, laughing, etc. My life is not over, by any means, just because my mom's is. There are days I feel pain about that. I was calling it guilt, but it's not. It was guilt the first week or so and then it was just pain that my mom's quality of life was so low at the time of her death. I still feel that pain. I feel badly that there wasn't more any of us could do to help her with that. She acted as an emotional drain for me so often that we argued more than anything else. I have not gotten into the habit of romanticizing her in death. That's good. But I do miss her. A lot.

As for the other days, and this is one, I'm not exactly fit for company. I got so mad yesterday and said something  about it today and that brought on a fresh onslaught of tears and grief. At the funeral, there were poster boards filled with comments from her students about my mom. And they've been sitting where they were put when we got home from the service. My dad, in his effort to re-vamp the house, just bent them up and threw them in the garbage. I had intended on removing the comments and putting them into a keepsake box. I was so angry. I didn't tell him what I planned to do so he had no way of knowing. I was just SO angry. I still am. I said something to him just now about it but I'm still sitting here crying because of it.

I think it is possible that there is a part of me that needs to be angry with him. I'm not sure the real reason. It could be any number of the following. I needed him to grieve more. I needed someone there for me emotionally. I needed what everyone else was telling me to be true, that he needed me during this time. I needed someone who was a part of my day-to-day life to understand that I am hurting really badly. It's only small portion of the time, but I know I have those thoughts and those feelings about the situation. Otherwise, I'm fine with it. I'm hurting, but I do understand my dad. He's really a good guy. He's just not capable of the emotional side of things. It's awkward for him. And that's ok. I don't expect it really. But living in the same house with someone that should be going through the same thing you are and yet being alone in your grief is ludicrous on some levels. I'm sad and I'm alone and the icing this week was that he through all those memories of my mom from the thing she loved most in her life away without even a thought that one of us might want them.

The one I wrote just before her funeral.

I tried to draw you, but my fingers still shake,

I tried to sing about you, but my voice still cracks,

I tried to describe you, but I still can't do you justice,

I tried to listen to others, but the one you were with me is the special one that I want to keep.

With every day that passes, you will keep forever within my heart

Your image will stay with me as I move on where you cannot.

I will hear your laugh when I find something I know you would love.

My love for you will move, as I do, through the years.

I will draw you in my heart,

I will sing to you with every breath I take,

I will describe you to myself every day

And I will listen to others about you, knowing it will make you stronger in my soul.

I love you, Mom.

I will miss you always

Autumn Hobson 04/07/2010

Mother

Mother
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English moder, from Old English mOdor;aking to Old High German muoter mother, latin mater, Greek mEtEr, Sanskrit mAtr
1 a: a female parent, b: a woman in authority; specifically: the superior of a religious community of women, c: an old or elderly woman
2. Source, Origin mother of invention>
3. Maternal tenderness or affection
4: [short for motherfucker] sometimes vulgar: Motherfucker
5: something that is an extreme or ultimate example of its kind especially in terms of scale

How many definitions do there need to be to describe one person?
Considering that a mother can be an infinite number of things to any one person, I suppose there can be infinite definitions to describe her.

Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible. ~Marion C. Garretty, quoted in A Little Spoonful of Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul

My mother has made me more brave than she will ever know. She has let me know, in no uncertain terms, that the road of my life is going to be difficult, that I will fall, but that I will also get back up and keep moving. She made sure that I not only knew how to think for myself, but that I knew how to think. The positive things, that have made me who I am, come from both of my parents, but without my mother I would have been lost. She showed me that you can have a sense of humor when you look at your life, even at its most desperate time and that you can be quite serious if you need be in the funniest situations.

Mother - that was the bank where we deposited all our hurts and worries. ~T. DeWitt Talmage

I have never had the chance to fell that I was unloved or unwanted. She never allowed that. My mother was not only someone that I could and did look up to, but she was the person that all the kids I knew looked up to. Every student she has taught and every person she's known has loved my mother just for being herself. 

If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden. ~Attributed to Claudia Ghandi

As I walk through the streets of my life

As I listen to he music that surrounds me

When I look into the starts

Anytime I drive past a red convertible

When I'm confronted with 

Strange rock formations, pyrite and quartz

You will forever be in my mind

Your influence on me has been great

And I shall always be a better person

For having been raised by you.

I love you, Mah!

Happy Mother's Day

Autumn Hobson 05/10/07

So I am taking the summer and next semester off of school. I need to work full time and work on my finances so that I can get my own place. I've missed my freedom. Granted, I would rather not have it at the hands of the situation I was dealt. But it is what it is. There is nothing I can say or do to bring her back. So I move foreward, however reluctantly that may be.

I may start baking. Perhaps for money. I'm not sure how all of that will pan out yet. I suppose as long as I keep the prices under the local bakeries, I can make some money. Not at first, but eventually. I have also been considering doing a number of other creative things on the side, like learning to weld and doing metal sculpturing. Or jewelry and knitting...whichever. I have the need to be creative and productive, I am just not sure where to start. Anyone want to be my guinea pig taste tester? I can take requests. You tell me what you want made and I'll attempt it. :)

Anyway, I'm avoiding homework and school right this minute to write this. That's ok. I only have 2 more weeks of school left. And then no more until Spring. I need the break anyway. I have been so lethargic about the work and that was before my mom died. You can imagine how I feel now. I finally found the things I had written my mom that I read at the funeral. I'll post them separately in the next blog. This is a short one and I'm hoping to actually use this thing more for cathartic purposes.

My mom's Obituary

Joanne “Jo” Madelyn Kaupp Hobson passed away on April 3, 2010. She would have been 55 on April 12. Joanne had a passion for science and her ability to make others understand it contributed greatly to her success as a teacher. She was extremely proud of her years spent at St. Tammany Jr. High, Chalmette and Salmen High, and Slidell Jr. High. She received Teacher-of-the-Year twice and numerous awards throughout her career. She was beloved by the thousands of students that passed through her hands over her 20 years in the classroom. She had a Bachelor’s degree in Biology Education from the University of New Orleans but her passion from childhood was in Geology and Space sciences. Her love and interest for the NASA space program resulted in a long-standing relationship with Rocketdyne that allowed her to broaden the minds even further of those she taught. Her love for it and the humor she used in and out of the classroom were contagious and these things made her unforgettable. Her death leaves a black hole in the hearts of many and a vast empty space, difficult to fill, for any who knew her. She will be greatly missed.

Joanne was preceded in death by her parents, Gerard and Ruth Kaupp. She is survived by her husband, Jim Hobson, her children, Jesse and Wendy Hobson, Autumn Hobson, and Holly and Dale Goodman, and her grandchildren, Tyler, Joey, and Arianna Hobson and Carlin and Ella Goodman. She is also survived by her siblings, Tom and Cindy Kaupp, Jeri Ann and Tom Barron, Kathy and Gerard Gambino and Gerard Kaupp, Jr. She will also be missed by a host of nieces and nephews. Her family expresses regret that they are not able to fulfill her final wishes of being shot into space on the next shuttle mission, so they will be having an open wake and service for all those that wish to pay their respects. The wake will be held at Honaker-Forest Lawn Cemetary in Slidell on Thursday from 6-9pm with a service at 7:30.

Self Importance and Other Issues

I think that mental illness is less hereditary than it is a problem with familiarity. I am beginning to recognize, in myself, the fact that I become various degrees of unstable depending on my proximity to those that are unstable or mentally ill. The only thing I can think of to compare it to is that of an animal charging. If you see a bull coming at you, nostrils flaring, and you can't manage to get out of the way in time, you instinctively prepare yourself for the impact. Your body curls into a standing fetal position, trying to cover sensitive organs, etc. In that respect, I think that crazy tends to be challenged with crazy. If someone begins a behavior around you suddenly, like screaming incoherently, most people tend to react by retreating, grabbing the person trying to make them focus, or, more commonly, screaming back. This really doesn't accomplish much, but I can see it as some form of emotional block to what the brain perceives as danger.

I feel unstable and out of my normally logical state of mind when I'm closer to crazy. But, like with anything I do, this realization came on me like a shower. That among a few other things this week. I am a random thinker. That is not to say that I'm spacey. Every one of my thoughts tends to originate somewhere perfectly logical. But my mind is the greatest player of the word/identity association game. For example, if I'm thinking about Fruit Leather, I have the tendency to be almost instantly hungry for either white rice and Japanese chicken or Thai food. And if I'm not hungry and I'm thinking about Fruit Leather, I can be almost instantly reminded to take the medicine for my diabetes. The reasons for this are random associations in my head that happen within fractions of a second but of which I remember every link. I first learned about Fruit Leather in Colorado at the office. The girl who introduced them was named Kelly. She was a girl who was totally into hiking. She also worked with Somer, who was from down here. Somer talked me into trying Thai food from a local place once when I was attempting to stray from the normal Taco Bell and Quiznos. The first time wasn't good, but then I found a couple flavors I liked and a place I loved and I was a Thai food junkie. When I'm not hungry, I remember a conversation had with a bunch of us, including Kelly, about the various medical problems that women suffer and hormones. That led me to my own issues, reasons, all the medical problems that go along with my hormone problems, the reason I now have diabetes and voila! my medicine. So that's a small taste of how my brain functions, but the links are not always that closely related. Here are a couple more of the revelations I've come up with this week.

Last semester I was referred to as a kiss ass because one of my professors hit on a nerve that I'm just really good at. Come to think of it, that probably has something to do with the aforementioned way that my brain functions. Anyway, we were researching a 7-page play. We had to present a book on that play as if were were going to film it. Character and story boards, script break down, and reference material to the time and place. The play was J.M. Synge's "Riders to the Sea." Well I was able to find all sorts of really interesting information that tied in to the time frame, what Synge had in mind when he wrote it, the personal influences for the play itself as well as what the characters would really have worn and the origins of the lines in the script. My did my association trick with keywords in Google. It worked, I got an A in the class. This semester, I'm already at it. The first day of classes, I managed to score a job with my previous professor to be the design assistant for the two upcoming plays at UNO. That is part of my class credit. I feel important. Something that tends to lack most of the time in my life. I will end up working my ass off in this venture and in this class where I will lack in others that my importance is no more, or less, than others there. This annoys me about myself, but it's still the truth. I like the feeling that it gives me when someone is visibly impressed with something I've done. Like the rest of humanity, I'm constantly in search of approval on one level or another.

The other thing came to me yesterday. And it started from the word, "sorry." Romance for me is not something I think about often. I repell advances when I get them and I really don't get them often, for obvious reasons. That aside, the idea of romance in normal society is one that sounds pretty and can be very beautiful. But it ends up being annoying because it is so generalized. I suppose you could consider it commercialized romance. A rose, a teddy bear, dinner, holding a door, etc. Tripping it up from time to time helps break the monotony. Too much of it can get to be just as bothersome as having none and a lack of emotion in a relationship.

I have actually stopped dating guys that I would consider to be classically romantic. They are the "nice" guy that I will only end up hurting because I know they will get on my nerves. Unfortunately, there is not a lot of comeback from that. As with anything I write, I thought about this only randomly and analyzed it minimally until I suddenly hit on the subject from a random tangent thought. I whispered "sorry" to someone in class yesterday morning and almost right after, my muse hit me upside the head with the realization.

I like dangerous romance.

To me, romance is less about puppy dogs and flowers and more about menace. Artistic and beautiful menace. Even in minute doses. Being in a large crowd and being whispered to by him. Even something simple as "I can't wait until we're alone." A dark, mysterious look from across the room. Being made to feel utterly feminine solely because of the overwhelming maleness of my counterpart. These are all menacing and dangerous feelings. Let's leave aside that I like to play the historically classic female role in a relationship (women's lib people beware...). That is, I play that role without compromising who I am and my own thoughts and mind. I still want the romance, but I can only take the sweet stuff in small doses.

I don't really have an ending to all of these thoughts. I suppose I hope I never do. As long as I'm still finding out about myself, I'm still alive. In the meantime if any of this information ends up useful to me in a meaningful way, then I'll have accomplished something.

Too Fat to Graduate

Lincoln University, in Pennsylvania, will soon be implementing a rule they set in on the incoming freshmen of 2006. Graduating seniors must have their BMI (Body Mass Index) tested before they apply for graduation. If their BMI is 30+, they are required to take a fitness course before they are allowed to receive their diplomas. Their reasoning is to promote healthy behaviors the same way they promote good math skills with basic mathematics courses.

I understand the need to promote healthy living and wise choices when you are sending students out into the world. I think it's a phenomenal and bold idea to be so actively geared towards helping out the next generation of movers and builders. We are a rather obese country, speaking in general terms. Fitness is a fad that comes and goes amongst the lower and middle classes. It's been sticking around a bit more in the last few years and that's great. I genuinely hope that we, the fat and unhealthy of this great land, are able to get with (and stick with) the program to get us on the right tract.

That being said...

Why on earth would Lincoln University think that it is at all acceptable to intrude to deeply into their student's lives as to require a testing of their body fat in order to allow them to graduate from college? The last time I checked, academic aptitude is what tells you whether or not you have earned your certificate or degree. The passing of courses related to the program in which you are enrolled is what determines the ability to use that degree towards a job and a life. Oh, let's not leave out the fact that the majority of these students have paid a rather large amount of money to take these courses, prove themselves to professors and college administrators over and over again. I guess I never realized that an individual's body structure has any merit, at all, over how that person is going to function in the world, where knowledge in the field of study should suffice.

Have we seriously gotten to a point that we are forcing our idealistic beliefs down the throats of others to the point of dangling their futures in front of them? I'm totally against this idea. I think they are able to mostly get away with it because they are an independently run and very small university. At least I hope that's the only reason they're able to get away with it.

Again, I'm not opposed to what it is, I'm opposed to the idea that people HAVE to take a BMI test and a fitness class before they're allowed to grasp their very expensive piece of paper and move on. I'm opposed to any rule that says I "have" to do something. There are those rules that are just simply there for the safety and sanity of the rest of the world. Do not drink and drive, murder people and harm animals. All very good rules. Glad those are laws. I am a citizen of the United States of America. I should not HAVE to pay thousands of dollars for an education only be told that I'm too fat to complete it. I absolutely should not HAVE to opt for health insurance just because it's being offered to me. These are choices. They should not be rules or laws. I refuse to get on board with anything that dictates how I live my life (or how others should live theirs for that matter).

I must need plastic surgery...

At least that's what I keep getting told. I have received TV, internet, radio and billboard ads stating that it's obvious that I need plastic surgery. Today it landed in my mail, with my name on it and everything. So here's something I immediately wondered after making disparaging comments about plastic surgery and those who seek it. Do I hate it because I've never, myself, possessed the type of beauty that these people are trying to achieve/recapture?

I'm not ugly. I'd be downright pretty if I lost the weight. Let's move past that. Perhaps I really do feel that plastic surgery for anything less than massive disfigurement is a complete waste of time, as mother nature has a way of reversing that shit. Or, perhaps I have only managed to come to that conclusion based on the fact that I've had to come to terms with myself and my own inept beauty. Is a person forced into realizations about the world because they've never had the vanity that imposes stupidity on certain subjects?

Should it piss me off that doctors are getting paid to tell people that they are ugly and that they have a right not to be? "Here, let me fix that slightly irregular nose for you, my dear. I'd hate to see you miss your potential to be beautiful." Should I congratulate people who are able to change those things about themselves that have given them a pain of concern during their lives? I suppose that given the proper amount of pocket change, there are things about myself I would change. A little lipo here, a little electrolysis there, perhaps have my hymen reintroduced...

If society keeps changing itself to look like each other, eventually it will be physically difficult to find any difference in each other at all. That just isn't the direction that the world needs to go in. The bastards who advertise this shit could, at least, do me the favor of not throwing it in my face that I'm wholly unattractive and let me keep up the pretense that I'm ok with it. I like my bubble and would appreciate being left to decorate it as I see fit!

The Woes of Lake Pontchartrain

I think I've decided that human beings are trying to kill us. All because of some mosquitos and flooding in the midwest over those several weeks. Yes, that's right. Everything in life is a cycle, right? Everyone and everything has a direct influence and impact on something else. I am fulling capable of admitting that I am an environmentalist liberal. I always have been a liberal, but with my current and long-standing fascination with the very idea that the world could have clean drinking water and that pollution is bad (the hell you say!), the environmentalist side of me has come out full strong. So here's the deal:

The Lake Ponchartrain is that huge bastard of a lake that sits on the north side of New Orleans. It's an amazing body of water. It is the second largest salt-water lake in the US, next to Great Salt Lake. The lake water is actually brackish (a mixture of salt and fresh water). The estuary of the lake is as delicate as the balance of salt and freshwater. There are species living in the lake that are only known to live in this lake. Nowhere else on the planet. Species that are vital to the survival of other species. For more information on the Lake and its history, check this page out. It's a great source. http://pubs.usgs.gov/of/2002/of02-206/intro/preface.html

Part of the drainage basin for the Pontchartrain is the Pearl River. Again, a vital part of wetlands between the Gulf of Mexico and Jackson, MS. And again, there are species on this planet that are only found in the Pearl River. The problems with the Pearl are huge. It is a tributary to both the Gulf and to the Miss. River. North of Jackson, there is a problem with the mercury levels in the water. Years ago, they tried to dam the Pearl, for some ungodly reason, and realized it didn't work the way the wanted. The Pearl never did quite recover from that fiasco.

So the problems now are this: There is a man in Jackson, John McGowan, who wants to dam the Pearl around Jackson because he wants to build small lakes and land to boost Jackson's economy. But he's trying to sell the idea to locals based on flooding. He says that Jackson is in danger of the Pearl flooding and wiping out whole sections of the city. I'm sorry, John, but any city sitting next to a river is in danger of the same thing. New Orleans isn't trying to dam the Miss. River. Then again....wait...I'll get to that later. Oh, he also says that something needs to be done about that river because of the mosquito problems and it smells bad. ::blinks:: Really?

Yes, the Pearl did flood Jackson once. It was very destructive to large parts of the city. I must concede that. However...that flood was in 1979. Yes, that's right, 30 years ago. This man is willing to kill off what little bit of untouched wetlands there are in the Gulf Region because he's a developer that thinks his wallet is just a shy thin. He is an asshole.

Problems with the Lake: New Orleans levees have a little sticker applied to them somewhere saying that they can only withstand a flow of the Miss River of 1.25 million cubic feet per second. Because of the flooding in the midwest, the Miss. was flowing at a rate of 1.26 million cfs. So the state instituted their grand and glorious plan of opening a flood control measure that wasn't well thought out (but built anyway) in 1927. The Bonnet Carre Spillway diverts water from the Miss River into the Lake Pontchartrain on the western side of New Orleans to reduce stress on the levees surrounding the city.

In theory, it's a fantastic idea. In hindsight, they should have opened it on the other side of the Miss. That fresh water with high sediment, high nutrients and decently high toxins (nothing we can do about that last part just yet) should have been opened up into the wetlands. They are diminishing at a rate that is rapid and alarming. They are a great source of protection for south Louisiana against hurricanes. All of that sediment and clay could have done something to reduce the strain on the land lost in the area. But no, it flows into the delicate and (formerly) clean Lake.

Well I drove across the lake last week and saw the amount of algae that was floating in the water and realized that the effects of the spillway being open for only about 2 weeks were already starting to show. As of right now, the majority of a lake that covers an area of 630 square miles is covered in blue-green algae. This can (and probably will) cause large fish kills, the extreme endangerment of native fishes and other species, and a huge economic problem considering that the lake provides a large part of our local seafood.

Those are only the immediate issues with the algae. An even bigger problem is the fact that the water that flowed in from the Miss displaced close to 75% of the water in the Lake. That means that most of the water in the lake now is turbid fresher water than what it's used to. I hope it won't, but it may cause eutrophication in the lake. That isn't just going to effect the animal life of the species living in the lake, but the species that depend on the lake for food. The water quality if going to effect not only those, but the over million people that are using it in various ways.

Anyway, that's what going on down here. I don't think anyone is entirely sure what we can do just yet to fix some of this. Then again, for starters, we could tackle John McGowan, tie him up and shove him in a closet. Or castrate him. We don't need his genes in our wading pool.