This weekend happens to be Pride weekend here in the city of fog and shadows, and, along with the usual glitter and beer-soaked festivities, there will be the annual Pride parade.
You know what I think?
I think that we shouldn't be having a pride parade.
You know why?
LGBT people shouldn't have to march in the streets to assert their right to BE.
LGBT people shouldn't have to fly a big colorful flag in our faces, ride motorcycles across Market street, or sashay their way in high heels and not much else until they've earned sunburns on body parts not normally exposed to the light of day, to assert their right to love-and marry -whomever they want.
Everyone should be able to feel pride in who they are every single fucking day of the year...and we are not truly a democratic free country as long as that is not the case.
That's all I'm sayin'.
RM
Oh--and you kids, get off'n my f***ing lawn!!
Monday, June 21, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
The Answers To Life, the Universe, and Everything...
I am skidding sideways into yet another birthday, but oh my what a difference from the one I shared with you two years ago! No big party...no worries about whom to invite....no rental plates...no soul-sucking trips to Costco....no exes...no drama whatsoever....ahh. Just a few small celebrations mostly revolving around good food and good friends, nothing too overwhelming. It's nice. I don't feel any pressure to do anything I don't want to--in fact, the older I get, the further I seem to be drifting away from the shore of that overpopulated little island known as "Givesafuckwhatanyonethinksofme"....which, if you knew me and how much of my life so far has been spent bending myself into little pretzel shapes to fit others' expectations...is pretty damn huge, which is why I'm here giving myself an early birthday present--a wee pat on the back.
Medical science claims that, every seven years, every single cell in our bodies--skin, hair, brain, organs, the whole megillah--dies and is replaced. So, essentially, you and I are not the persons we were seven years ago. I'm a big believer in the 'seven-year-cycle' concept-- I truly believe it's possible to completely reinvent-regenerate-rebuild-oneself in a new way.
Let's see....In 2003, I was about to separate from a husband with whom I was not in love (and really shouldn't have married in the first place), about to have my heart broken--truly broken--for the first time (and, may I add, have had it truly broken not once but TWICE since then), had never lived alone, hadn't even been diagnosed for depression yet, had no clue as to who I really was or what I wanted to do, was a very fearful person, sick at heart and in spirit, who had internalized the idea that I was 'not-enough'--not attractive, lovable, intelligent, capable, calm, etc., etc., ad nauseam, enough. I would like to be able to say that I am no longer any of those things, that I am sexy, beautiful, brilliant, capable, centered, ALL of the time.
I'm not there yet.
But I can say those things (at least one of them at a time) MOST of the time. I think that's an improvement.
And I can't WAIT to see what the next seven years' transformation will look like.
RM
Medical science claims that, every seven years, every single cell in our bodies--skin, hair, brain, organs, the whole megillah--dies and is replaced. So, essentially, you and I are not the persons we were seven years ago. I'm a big believer in the 'seven-year-cycle' concept-- I truly believe it's possible to completely reinvent-regenerate-rebuild-oneself in a new way.
Let's see....In 2003, I was about to separate from a husband with whom I was not in love (and really shouldn't have married in the first place), about to have my heart broken--truly broken--for the first time (and, may I add, have had it truly broken not once but TWICE since then), had never lived alone, hadn't even been diagnosed for depression yet, had no clue as to who I really was or what I wanted to do, was a very fearful person, sick at heart and in spirit, who had internalized the idea that I was 'not-enough'--not attractive, lovable, intelligent, capable, calm, etc., etc., ad nauseam, enough. I would like to be able to say that I am no longer any of those things, that I am sexy, beautiful, brilliant, capable, centered, ALL of the time.
I'm not there yet.
But I can say those things (at least one of them at a time) MOST of the time. I think that's an improvement.
And I can't WAIT to see what the next seven years' transformation will look like.
RM
Sunday, May 9, 2010
An Open Letter
Dear Pretentious Overrated Local Opera Company*: if you can't be bothered to email me to notify me when your auditions are, you do not have the right to email me when you need donations or to sell tickets (since, without the income said auditions might have provided, I cannot afford to buy tickets or support your pretentious company). Thank you. Love, RM
*whose senile founder has been sucking the dried-up teat of his reputation for the past twenty years, has been taking advantage of the good will of local musicians while treating--and paying--them like crap, and who cannot even be bothered to list the cast or instrumentalists--you know, the people who are actually doing the show--on the website
*whose senile founder has been sucking the dried-up teat of his reputation for the past twenty years, has been taking advantage of the good will of local musicians while treating--and paying--them like crap, and who cannot even be bothered to list the cast or instrumentalists--you know, the people who are actually doing the show--on the website
Friday, May 7, 2010
Another lame excuse
OK. Would you believe...."I forgot my password"? Seriously. No joke. I am officially an eejit.
But, anyway, I managed to retrieve the super-secret sacred meme from its' TOO-well-hidden hiding place, and here I am...just long enough to say "OK, back soon......"
RM
But, anyway, I managed to retrieve the super-secret sacred meme from its' TOO-well-hidden hiding place, and here I am...just long enough to say "OK, back soon......"
RM
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
That'll teach her to mess with a mezzo...
...straight from Facebook...
(Rebelmezzo) Dear Santa, for Christmas I would like the following....1. to miraculously (and permanently) lose twenty more pounds instantly. 2. A month off between now and Friday. 3. A German Shepherd puppy. The milk and cookies are on the table. Thank you. xo, RM
4 hours ago · Comment · Like
DP (her name has been hidden to protect ME: I happen to know for a fact that this woman carries guns and knows how to use them. However, this does not give her license to be a smartass. That's what I'M here for.)
Dear RM: You have been very naughty this year. Unfortunately: 1. Santa cannot help you with the 20 lbs since you keep stuffing cupcakes down your maw...
2. There are only 2.5 days between now and Friday, you went to school you should know that is not a month...
3. The German Shepherd puppy can be found on the internet at many reputable breeders in your area.
4. Santa is a "fictional character" maybe you should look into some anti-psychotics... screw the cookies and milk, give Santa a bottle of Jack Daniels and a Straw... LOL Love ya D :)
3 hours ago · Delete
(RM) Dear Bitchy Elf Intermediary:
Please define 'naughty'. Considering you have considerable experience in this area, I believe you can ceratinly educate me in the finer points of naughtiness.
1. I have not had-or made-cupcakes since September. Perhaps you have me confused with my sister-in-law.
2. Since Santa can haul HIS fat ass around the world in one night, I figure he can stretch the space-time continuum for ME, too.
3. There are many many animals in shelters and rescue societies because this and many other breeds have been so overbred by 'reputable' breeders that health and psychological issues are rampant among shepherds. I don't believe in buying from a breeder when shelters are overloaded--therefore I'd search out a puppy from a German line from a rescue society.
4. Gentle, kind, thoughtful, intelligent, well-mannered, well-groomed straight men are supposed to be fictional characters as well, yet my last boyfriend was all of that--and he could cook, too--so I know that fictional characters DO, in fact, exist.
And screw Santa...the Jack Daniels is MINE.
*middle finger salute*
Love, RM
(See...THIS is what I've been doing instead of blogging! Can you forgive me?)
(Rebelmezzo) Dear Santa, for Christmas I would like the following....1. to miraculously (and permanently) lose twenty more pounds instantly. 2. A month off between now and Friday. 3. A German Shepherd puppy. The milk and cookies are on the table. Thank you. xo, RM
4 hours ago · Comment · Like
DP (her name has been hidden to protect ME: I happen to know for a fact that this woman carries guns and knows how to use them. However, this does not give her license to be a smartass. That's what I'M here for.)
Dear RM: You have been very naughty this year. Unfortunately: 1. Santa cannot help you with the 20 lbs since you keep stuffing cupcakes down your maw...
2. There are only 2.5 days between now and Friday, you went to school you should know that is not a month...
3. The German Shepherd puppy can be found on the internet at many reputable breeders in your area.
4. Santa is a "fictional character" maybe you should look into some anti-psychotics... screw the cookies and milk, give Santa a bottle of Jack Daniels and a Straw... LOL Love ya D :)
3 hours ago · Delete
(RM) Dear Bitchy Elf Intermediary:
Please define 'naughty'. Considering you have considerable experience in this area, I believe you can ceratinly educate me in the finer points of naughtiness.
1. I have not had-or made-cupcakes since September. Perhaps you have me confused with my sister-in-law.
2. Since Santa can haul HIS fat ass around the world in one night, I figure he can stretch the space-time continuum for ME, too.
3. There are many many animals in shelters and rescue societies because this and many other breeds have been so overbred by 'reputable' breeders that health and psychological issues are rampant among shepherds. I don't believe in buying from a breeder when shelters are overloaded--therefore I'd search out a puppy from a German line from a rescue society.
4. Gentle, kind, thoughtful, intelligent, well-mannered, well-groomed straight men are supposed to be fictional characters as well, yet my last boyfriend was all of that--and he could cook, too--so I know that fictional characters DO, in fact, exist.
And screw Santa...the Jack Daniels is MINE.
*middle finger salute*
Love, RM
(See...THIS is what I've been doing instead of blogging! Can you forgive me?)
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Famous Last Words.....
Like, "more later"....oh, I crack me up.
I suppose I owe you an explanation for why I've been AWOL for, oh, a year and a half....
Um....
There isn't one.
Mainly, it's that I just don't make it to this little corner of my internet very often, and as much as I try, I don't post as much as I'd wish to. That's it, really. Life has beaten me up emotionally quite a bit over the past year, and while 2009 was much better on some fronts, I STILL feel "in transition", so I will no longer make any promises to myself or anyone else that I'll post on anything resembling a regular basis....I can only promise that I will try. OK?
*sound of crickets*
OK. Thanks for coming by and hearing me out.
RM
PS....just a random thought, while I am here: is it just me, or am I the only American female left who thinks that the idea of someone coming at my forehead with a syringe full of food poisoning sounds more like the beginning of a horror movie than an acceptable beauty practice?
OK, I'm really done now. 'Bye.
I suppose I owe you an explanation for why I've been AWOL for, oh, a year and a half....
Um....
There isn't one.
Mainly, it's that I just don't make it to this little corner of my internet very often, and as much as I try, I don't post as much as I'd wish to. That's it, really. Life has beaten me up emotionally quite a bit over the past year, and while 2009 was much better on some fronts, I STILL feel "in transition", so I will no longer make any promises to myself or anyone else that I'll post on anything resembling a regular basis....I can only promise that I will try. OK?
*sound of crickets*
OK. Thanks for coming by and hearing me out.
RM
PS....just a random thought, while I am here: is it just me, or am I the only American female left who thinks that the idea of someone coming at my forehead with a syringe full of food poisoning sounds more like the beginning of a horror movie than an acceptable beauty practice?
OK, I'm really done now. 'Bye.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
To paraphrase the Talking Heads....
...well? How did I get here?
It's official--I'm 40.
As I knew I would (and had hoped I wouldn't), I wound up putting myself through a frenzy of busyness the two weeks leading up to my natal anniversary (which was also the date of the party), including full-time work, contractor hell (the pergola went up in the backyard literally the day before the party), shopping, baking, cooking, whipping, frosting, prepping, cleaning, and not sleeping well (I averaged about six hours per night and often less), which ensured that the day went by in a blur. I had hoped that, for a change, I could face a birthday with quiet presence and composure, fully conscious of the passage of time and appreciating the turning of the year. No such luck--not with forty-odd people in my 950-square-feet abode. I pinballed from guest to guest, enjoying them all immensely but not really connecting deeply with anyone...alas. On the other hand, none of the Jerry Springer antics I had half-feared, half-hoped would happen did, either. Everyone got along marvelously (unless the Marx Brothers-style cake fight happened while I was showing off the damn pergola....).
And now the obvious question: well?
How does it feel to be forty, RM?
Um.
Odd, actually.
I've felt somewhat melancholy and out of sorts since the weekend. I can't possibly describe this year as anything but the Year Of The Bus (as in, the one I keep getting thrown under); in both my professional and personal life, whatever was going phenomenally well LAST year has turned completely to shit.
(Not to put TOO fine a point on it.)
The funny thing is, what I'm feeling right at this moment is somewhat difficult to describe (which is my way of warning you that, in my long-winded way, I'm going to try--so you might want to jump off here and go find some other, more interesting, blog). I feel UNCOMFORTABLE, like a snake about to shed its skin--chafing against the confines of a life that no longer fits me. I've felt an odd sense of being in a liminal space, in the calm center between worlds....not quite here, not quite there--that something new is emerging, coming into view--and that some solutions to the problems and questions I've been wrestling with over the last couple of years will finally be made more clear to me, so I can finally take action. I have a feeling that, by this time next year, my life will look very different. I can't wait--I've been under this bus so many times in the past six months I'm beginning to think that the sky is made of crankshafts and carburetors....
So, add to my answer to the question of how I feel.....'warily hopeful'.
More soon.
RM
It's official--I'm 40.
As I knew I would (and had hoped I wouldn't), I wound up putting myself through a frenzy of busyness the two weeks leading up to my natal anniversary (which was also the date of the party), including full-time work, contractor hell (the pergola went up in the backyard literally the day before the party), shopping, baking, cooking, whipping, frosting, prepping, cleaning, and not sleeping well (I averaged about six hours per night and often less), which ensured that the day went by in a blur. I had hoped that, for a change, I could face a birthday with quiet presence and composure, fully conscious of the passage of time and appreciating the turning of the year. No such luck--not with forty-odd people in my 950-square-feet abode. I pinballed from guest to guest, enjoying them all immensely but not really connecting deeply with anyone...alas. On the other hand, none of the Jerry Springer antics I had half-feared, half-hoped would happen did, either. Everyone got along marvelously (unless the Marx Brothers-style cake fight happened while I was showing off the damn pergola....).
And now the obvious question: well?
How does it feel to be forty, RM?
Um.
Odd, actually.
I've felt somewhat melancholy and out of sorts since the weekend. I can't possibly describe this year as anything but the Year Of The Bus (as in, the one I keep getting thrown under); in both my professional and personal life, whatever was going phenomenally well LAST year has turned completely to shit.
(Not to put TOO fine a point on it.)
The funny thing is, what I'm feeling right at this moment is somewhat difficult to describe (which is my way of warning you that, in my long-winded way, I'm going to try--so you might want to jump off here and go find some other, more interesting, blog). I feel UNCOMFORTABLE, like a snake about to shed its skin--chafing against the confines of a life that no longer fits me. I've felt an odd sense of being in a liminal space, in the calm center between worlds....not quite here, not quite there--that something new is emerging, coming into view--and that some solutions to the problems and questions I've been wrestling with over the last couple of years will finally be made more clear to me, so I can finally take action. I have a feeling that, by this time next year, my life will look very different. I can't wait--I've been under this bus so many times in the past six months I'm beginning to think that the sky is made of crankshafts and carburetors....
So, add to my answer to the question of how I feel.....'warily hopeful'.
More soon.
RM
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