A Post to Ignore

None of the things I say will really make sense to anyone who reads this. It's just some stuff I need to get off my chest. If the person who this is about happens to read this. . .well. . .I doubt it will happen.

Part of me still hates you for the pain you put me through. I was so young at the time, so naive, and you came into my life at a time when I needed a saviour. And yet, you walked out as easily as you walked in, leaving a wound that never quite healed. Through the years you've walked in and out of my lives and few times, and each time I never really learn from my mistakes; each time I let you in despite knowing what's coming at the end.

Despite that part of me that hates you, or perhaps to spite it, the tiniest part of me remembers the happiness you gave me in my time of need. You treated me like I mattered when no one else did, and for that, that tiniest part will always love you. You may say that I never loved you, that I was too young and naive to love you, but maybe that's the reason I did love you. I think the purest form of love is the form that has been untainted, or suffered little taint, from pain and heartache. Perhaps the young are the ones who really know how to love, and all of us older ones only know how to show that guarded affection. The point is moot though because you will say what you will say,

Despite how tiny that part is, I still feel compelled to help you whenever you need it. Anytime you're in pain, I feel it too. I hurt when you hurt and the only way to make it better is to help you. You're like a drug; I know you're bad for me, I know I shouldn't want to be near you, shouldn't want you, but my mind and heart have been forever altered. You've been in my life the longest. . . .you were my real first. . .the one who first showed me loving affection. . . even if maybe it was to use me. . .

I will always hate you for what you did. . .but I will always love you in spite of it. . .

Self Realization

We all reach a certain point in our lives, at one time or another, when we realize that we aren't at all where we imagined we'd be. Perhaps saying all is a bit presumptious, but the statement still stands. I'd like to think that even the rich and famous are at different places in their lives than they could have imagined.

When I was younger, I saw a lot of things for my future. In elementary school, I wanted to grow up to be a Marine Biologist, because I loved fish and I loved to swim. In middle school, that changed. I remember giving a report in seventh grade about wanting to be a Geneticist. In eight grade, that changed to wanting to be a rock star. My freshman year, I start to think seriously at my future, but, I still managed to hold on to those dreams. At that point in time I wanted to find myself on Broadway one day, or maybe becoming a professional singer, even if I wasn't rocking out on stage. Then, I wanted to be a massage therapist, a dream which, admitedly, I haven't completely forgotten and still consider from time to time. Now, I want to find myself at the front of a class room, teaching young people the joys of the written language. After that, I'd like to retire from teaching and become a jovial librarian, helping children and adults find new joys in books.

I look back to how I was all those years ago and where I am now and it makes me think. I remember telling myself vehemently that I would never ever become a teacher, because then I'd have to deal with all the jerk students. Hell, even in second grade when I thought that I wasn't an average child. I never once said that a teacher acted the way he or she did just because she was mean. I always looked at how the students treated them first. Okay, maybe I thought my third grade teacher was a bitch who was out to get me (and really she was), but that is beside the point.

Hmm, this isn't at all turning out like I had planned it in my head, but no matter. The point is, we rarely ever find ourselves where we once imagined. I think about how, just a year ago, I thought I'd be in college and succeeding and living a happy life. However, I find my situation is different. I find myself still living with my mom who, though I love her to death, drives me insane sometimes. I'm still visiting my hypocritical father on the weekends. I don't have many close friends.

The fact of the matter is, lately, I've felt very alone. I know I have a man who loves me, but sometimes, that doesn't comfort me. I know it should, but it doesn't. I just feel like sometimes, no one really gives a shit about what I think. I have all these people that call me a friend but when I think about it, I don't really know anybody all that well anymore, save my boyfriend of course. I look at the people I call my best friends and find myself wondering how they could act like they do, or what they're thinking sometimes. It's disconcerting not to feel connected with anyone anymore. Frankly, it's lonely as hell and I hate it.

Last night, I found myself staring up at the sky, focusing on the few stars I can see in this city, and just thinking about life. Staring up into that mostly empty sky has a way of making you feel insignificant, like nothing you say or do really matters. We live, we die, and then life goes on.

Eh, perhaps these are just the thoughts of a semi-depressed and exauhsted teenager. Maybe I just need to go to bed and forget about it. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I try to forget, these thoughts always come back in the end.

I know that I have people who care about me, people who do care what I have to say. I know that. However, most of the time, the heart and the mind are bitter enemies. Eh, I'm ending this here. My mind is too tired to contemplate anything right now.

Words From the Heart

In order to know what I'm talking about You have to know what's been going on in the media between Chris Amstrong, the University of Michigan's first openly gay student body president, and Michigan's Assistant Attorney General, Andrew Shirvell. If you haven't been following the story, I invite you to view this video, which is a brief summary of the whole thing that's been going on.

Now, in writing this blog, I come to you not as a homosexual, not as a teenager, not as a man, but as a human being. It is people like Andrew Shirvell that really make me hate calling myself, not only an American Citizen, but a human being. Shirvell has posted blogs calling Chris Amstrong a, "RADICAL HOMOSEXUAL ACTIVIST, RACIST, ELITIST, & LIAR." and another with with a photo of a swastika superimposed over a gay pride flag and an arrow pointing at Armstrong.

According to Shirvell, Chris is a 'RADICAL GAY ACTIVIST' because he chose to use the little bit of spotlight he gained as the student body president, to reach out to gay teens to promote education of suicide hot lines and stronger support programs in high schools and colleges. The three biggest points on Chris' political agenda for the school are longer lunch hours, gender neutral housing, and lower tuition costs. Yeah, sounds like a real plan to take over the earth and force all heterosexuals to become gay!

I understand that Andrew Shirvell has a right to be spouting this idiotic crap. However, all he posts are blatantly disrespectful comments about Chris because of his homosexuality. However, once it comes to literally stalking Chris by showing up at events, showing up at night clubs Chris goes to, and actually following him home and video taping outside his house, that goes a little farther than the first amendment. The man is a state official and this is a very disgraceful example of a human being. It's people like this that make me hate to watch the news anymore. So what? He's gay! Oh my gosh! He's going to recruit all of your children! Get over yourself people.

The Overworked Lawyer

I recently read a post from The Bitchy Waiter that inspired me to write this. Please enjoy this, and any future I might decide to write, post from The Overworked Lawyer.

Jeez, I don't even know why I write in this damn blog anymore. I am far too busy most days to even think about it, let alone set aside the time each day (yeah right) to think about my day and type it all down. However, I suppose a little release is needed every so often with how much stress I deal with daily. I'm not sure how the BFL's (big famous lawyers) do it. Well, granted, they do have plenty of people beneath them who can take care of most of the work. I mean, I highly doubt most of them even take a look at any but the biggest cases that pass through their office. Ah well. I suppose someone needs to take care of the people who can't afford to pay top dollar (unfortunately).

I just finished up a civil case today between a husband and wife. The wife divorced her good-for-nothing nothing husband four years ago for infidelity. It took her ten years before she finally got the courage to seek out a divorce lawyer. The bastard had been sleeping around since before they even got married with different women from his work and his past. For ten years she acted like she didn't know a damn thing and let him do it. I swear, had I been her, his family jewels would be sitting in a jar on my mantel right now. But that is neither here nor there. She was suing him for harassment and pain and suffering. Apparently he had been calling her every night for months (though I suspect it went on a lot longer than that) and telling her that he was way more happier single than he ever was with her. He told her frequently that the women he bangs on a regular basis are far better in bed than she ever was. Now, again, had I been her, and had I, for whatever reason, not taken his balls on earlier occasions, I would have done so when those phone calls started. Anyways, she ended up winning ten thousand dollars, which I'm very surprised at. I mean, I expected her to maybe win five thousand, and that's if the judge was sympathetic. However, she, by some amazing circumstances, got Judge Marlesque, the strange woman that she is. Apparently, she was far more than sympathetic, and that makes me wonder what went on in her past.

Anyways. I didn't make Mrs. Push-Over pay me. I mean, for one, she didn't really need a lawyer. I mean, all I did was tell her exactly what to tell the judge and how to act. I probably should have charged her something for the consultation, but I didn't have the heart. I mean, I may be a bitch and one helluva shark in the court room, but I'm still a woman and the story kind of got to me. It makes me glad that I don't have time for romance. The occasional hook up I can fit in, but a relationship takes up far more time than I have.

Anyways, I really do need to get back to work. I have three case files sitting on my desk that, even though they don't have eyes, are managing to glare at me. I've got a serial rapist I'm defending (yay. . . .), a man accused of kidnapping his two year old daughter from her mother (double yay. . . ), and an arsonist. I'll try to fit in the time to post at a later date. Until then, try to survive without my scathing comments (since I know this post only contained a couple).

Sincerely,
The Overworked Lawyer

P.S. Comments are welcome. What would you have done to the cheating husband?

Somwhere Over the Rainbow. . .

We've all got our own beliefs about a better place than the one we currently inhabit. Some dream of a beautiful paradise in the sky, living among all of those we once loved that have already passed on. Others dream of living on once more, living their new lives as either another human or life form. Others still dream of their soul moving on, selecting the trials they'll go through in the next life. Still, others, believe nothing happens. For them, we die, and that's it. Regardless of what you believe, as long as it makes you happy, that should be all that matters. Right?

For some, being happy just isn't enough. They like to spread the word of their individual religions through different mediums, be it billboards, television, or through missionary work. Now, I can completely understand spreading the word of your particular faith. However, what I dislike, is when people get pushy about it. Once a no is said, that should be the end, and then you should move on. However, there are those fanatics within every religion that simply get on my nerves.

What could possibly possess me to write this, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Friday night was Las Vegas' monthly First Friday celebration. First Friday is basically a festivals where local artists can come and sell their art work, be it painting, crafts, music, or any creative medium. I was attending the celebration with a few friends whom I hadn't seen in a few months. We were having a wonderful time walking around and admiring the art and the atmosphere, but most of all, we were enjoying each other's company.

Now, at one point during the evening, two of my friends, who are married to each other, started getting a little frisky. Now, that isn't to say they were having sex in the street or anything. No, the husband grabbed the wife's breast. Simple as that. Immediately following, an elderly lady, wearing an atrociously bright green shirt, approached us with pamphlets about God. Now, okay, I can understand what might have prompted her to do this. I stood and remained silent while she asked them if they went to church, what religion they belong to, and things of that nature. If anything, I found the uncomfortable looks on their faces slightly amusing. However, the woman decided to take it too far.

The woman in the atrociously green bright green shirt all but outright called my friend a harlot, simply because she was being fondled by a man, who so happened to be her husband. She then said a nice long prayer saying to, "Watch out for these poor unfortunate souls, so they do no wind up making mistakes that will send them to hell." She then walked off.

I was a bit speechless for a number of reasons, the first being she outright insulted a good friend of mine. My second problem was that she chose to say a prayer for us. Now, if she had said it in her head as she made her way through the crowd, then fine. The fact they she decided to, not only push her religion on to us, but then have us participate without our consent, seriously pissed me off.

Now, some of you may not know my take on religion. I call my self Agnostic. Basically, I believe that there is some sort of force that guides everything that happens, be it large or small. It is in each and every living creature and each inanimate object. It is all that was, is, and ever will be. As for an afterlife, I have a few things that I'd like to believe, but have yet to be convinced of. I'd like to believe in consensual reincarnation. Basically that means I'd like to believe we can choose when and how we are reincarnated, if at all. I'd also like to believe in a heaven. However, I don't believe in hell or Satan. I don't believe that the Devil created demons and evil, for that would mean he was a god himself, and I am monotheistic.

Now, I have no problem telling people about my religion. If you want to know, I'll tell you. I have no problem with people telling me about their religion. I've talked to a few people of differing religions and heard about them. I've read the Old Testament and the New, as well as parts of the Book of Mormon and the Qur'an. When I choose to believe in something, it is because I am educated in religions to a point, and know what I am saying no to. It's when people get pushy and try to press their religion upon me that I get angry. If you think I am wrong in what I believe, then fine. You can think I am wrong. Don't you dare try to impose your beliefs on me however. I don't sit there and tell you you're wrong and try to change you, and I expect the same courtesy.

I want to know what you think though? How do you feel when people press their religions on you? If you're comfortable sharing, what religion do you believe in?