NaNoWriMo

I don’t know what the hell I was thinking at the time I signed up…but yeah, I’m going to try it.

30 days

50,000 words

Wish me luck!

*gulp*

(If you don’t know what NaNoWriMo is, check it out. And then sit back and wonder at my complete lunacy.)

Also, check back throughout Nov to see if I am brave enough to post my word count.

As promised in yesterdays post, I’m going to write about sending yourself emails, so that you don’t forget important information.

When I’m on the go and think of something, it’s easy to use my iPhone to send myself notes by email. Sometimes, when I am surfing the webernetz I come across something that I want more time to look at it, but don’t want to get off task, so I’ll email myself the link so I can look at it later when I have time. I’m really pretty bad about it, or good, depends on how you look at it.

The only negative to that is when you get all excited that you got an email, because you totally forgot you just sent an email to yourself like 30 seconds ago. This does happen. Especially when you don’t work and you rarely get emails anymore, so it’s kind of exciting in a pathetic sort of way. But, if you do work, you probably get a gazillion emails every day, so when you get the email from yourself it will just piss you off that you just GOT ANOTHER GOD DAMNED EMAIL to deal with. In that case, you may want to find a handy notebook and pen to carry around to jot those important things down. Or an app for your phone that works like a notebook or to-do list.

Also, if you do try this and are a procrastinator, be prepared to have your inbox clogged with notes to yourself. When I get overly busy, I’ll get 20-30 messages to myself, which sucks, because I am so OCD about having an empty inbox. Eventually, I’ll snap and knock them out all at once. I also use Google Notebook and Task List. Many of the notes end up categorized to death in one of those until I really have time to deal with it. Needless to say, when I am balls deep in school, the lists get long and unruly. Like it is right now. Which means I am about to go all OCD on that shit. Delete have the stuff and re-re-categorize everything.

It’s a sickness, but a very well organized one.

Yesterday morning I woke up from a dream at 5:30a.m. For me this is unusual. First, I rarely dream, or at least rarely remember my dreams, so the chance of being woken up by one is exceedingly rare. Second, if I do remember having a dream, it usually sticks in my mind for all of about three seconds before it is lost forever in the deep dark depths of my mind. The third thing that made this dream even more strange was that when I woke up I was crying. WTF?

I woke up enough to know this was a strange occurrence. I grabbed my phone and quickly typed up an email to myself (Yes, I send myself emails…all the time…not even joking. I probably get more emails from myself than any one else. Helps me not forget things.) detailing the major points of the dream, so that I would not forget it. Then I went back to sleep.

When I woke up again later I remember that I had been woken up earlier by a strange dream. Then remembered I sent myself an email. (See…helpful, right? Doesn’t sound so crazy now, does it. Okay, maybe a little, but the system works for me. Shut up!) I open my inbox. Nada. Damn it! I open the sent mail box. Also, nada. Damn it all to hell! The trusty iPhone was being a complete asshole and was not, and had not, being syncing my email. So in my attempt to not lose my dream, I lost the email that was being sent to help me not lose the dream. Just my luck.

So, I remember only a bit of the dream, probably because I took the time to type it up. First off, I know I was in a bar, by myself. Not sure why I was there or what I was doing. After a bit, a bunch of friends showed up. They were all people I have meet on Twitter, but I can’t remember exactly who it was. I remember I was happy to see them and they were happy to see me. Now that I think of it, I was doing something, maybe working on my laptop or something, not quite sure.

I was enjoying chatting with everyone and not feeling as lonely as I had before they showed up. After a bit, they announced they were starting a game. Fun! Then they told me I had to leave. I couldn’t play the game and I couldn’t stay in the bar. I felt horrible, but I left and went and sat in my car in the parking lot, crying, trying to figure out why they had ousted me. That is when I woke up and I was actually crying.

Gotta analysis this one! This is what I came up with:

To dream that you are at a public bar, signifies your desire to escape from the stresses of your daily life and retreat into a light-hearted environment where pleasure abounds. Alternatively, you are seeking acceptance in some aspect of your daily life. The dream may also be a pun on being “barred” from some place or something. You are feeling excluded or held back by circumstances beyond your control. This, of course, makes perfect sense and lines up neatly with my current life and situation.

To see friends in your dream, signify aspects of your personality that you have rejected, but are ready to incorporate and acknowledge. The relationships you have with those around you are important in learning about yourself. Alternatively, dreaming of a friend, indicates positive news. I already know that to dream of someone else usually does not mean you are dreaming about that particular person. You generally chose “actors” to play in your dreams that represent something about yourself. Now, I really wish I could remember exactly who was in the dream.

To dream that you are being rejected, signifies a lack of self-worth. You feel alienated. Alternatively, the dream means that you are being too agreeable and accommodating, where your own sense of self is lost. You need to be more assertive and learn to say no to others. Additionally, to dream that you are alone, indicates feelings of rejection. You may be feeling that no one understand you. I’m not sure what to think about this part yet. I’ll have to think about it a bit more. I do feel like no one can possibly understand what I having been going through lately, because it is just so fucked up and out there. These are not the kinds of things most people have to deal with. Or at least in my mind, I feel very alone in trying to deal with it all.

To dream that you are crying, signifies a release of negative emotions that is more likely caused by some waking situation rather than the events of the dream itself. Your dream is a way to regain some emotional balance and to safely let out your fears and frustrations. In your daily lives, you tend to ignore, deny, or repress your feelings. But in your dream state, your defense mechanisms are no longer on guard and thus allow for the release of those feelings that you have repressed during the day. Um, yeah. I know I have not been dealing with some very specific things. I cannot deal with them right now or I will lose my shit in the most spectacular shit losing sort of way. We’re talking mental breakdown of epic proportions. I need to get through this divorce before I can tackle them. So, this is probably good that while dreaming I am able to release some of the pent up emotions. Also, it is rare for me to cry. I hate to cry. It makes me feel weak and I avoid it at all costs. Much as the same way as I handle negativity, anger, depression, sadness, etc. I prefer to steel up and turn the situation to something positive.

To wake up crying, represents some suppressed hurt or previous trauma that is coming up to the surface. You can no longer suppress these emotions. They need to be dealt with head on. Great! Did I not just say I cannot possibly deal with this shit right now?! Suppress, suppress, suppress. I will deal with it soon.

This post ended up being waaaaaaaaay too long. Sorry about that. I did learn something from it though and will be better than a lost email, especially with all the over analyzing. Hopefully, you learned something too. Like how to email important things to yourself, so that you don’t forget them. See tomorrow’s post all about this subject, because like I said, this post is already too long.

It has been exactly 13 months, as of today, that I have been separated from my ex. Probably the best 13 months I have had in the last two decades.

The decision to get divorced took years to make. Too many years. First, I felt obligated to adhere to my vows of sticking it out through thick and thin. Then, it became about my daughters. I did not want them to have a broken family. I wanted them to feel secure. I wanted their father and I to be a good example for them. I did not want to be responsible for screwing them up.

Eighteen years of marriage. I had signs all along the way to get the hell out. It was TOO FUCKING LONG! Now all I see is too many years wasted. Years and years I can never get back.

I see now that I did my daughters no favors by staying in the marriage as long as I did. We were not happy. We were not setting a good example. However, we did show them how to have a dysfunctional marriage. Not one of devotion, honesty or even genuine love or affection.

We did not do each other any favors either. Either one of us could have ended it much sooner. I was not happy with him and he was not happy with me. We stayed because it was comfortable, so to speak. We knew what to expect, good or bad. It would have taken just one of us to have the balls to speak up, end it and set us both free to potentially find what truly made us happy. It would have been a gift to both of us.

Since the separation, I have found out a few things about my marriage I did not know previously. Devastating, punch in the gut, horrifying things. I did not know who I was married to. I saw what I wanted to see. I was deceived. He is a stranger to me now.

These things stew in my brain. They keep me up at night. They try to tear me down. They bore holes through my soul and make me never want to trust or love or ever let anyone in. They make me want to build a wall around my heart so that this can never happen to me again. I have the urge to lay those bricks. One by one. Row by row. Higher and higher. Thicker and thicker. Until I am safe.

But, I can’t. I cannot let him continue to hurt me. I’ve already set myself free. I refuse to step into that grave that was built for me. I need to walk, at a steady deliberate pace, to that better place that I know exists. My happiness. I may not be able to see it clearly yet, but I can feel it there. Every so often I can feel it running through my fingertips. And it will be mine. I will get there.

I will not fall apart.

I grow stronger
EVERY
day.

“Anyone can give up, it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that’s true strength.”
– Author Unknown

So, over the weekend I stayed at a hotel. The person I was in the room with left before I did and checked us out of the room. I was still in the room and had just gotten out of the shower and was leisurely getting dressed. Pants were on, but no top yet when I heard a key card in the door. Mind you, I am way on the other side of the room, but standing facing the door. I’m thinking they must have forgotten something but, NO! A short Latino fellow busts in. I’m in shock. He’s in shock. I grab my boobs. He just stands there and stares! I finally come to my senses and ask what he wants. He says he showed the room as checked out and is there for housekeeping. This should be the point in the story where he quickly apologizes and shuts the door, but NO! He continues to stand there and stare. So, I said, “I’m obviously still here.” Does he leave then? NO! He’s still standing there…staring. No movement. Still no apology. I’m still standing there holding my boobs. Um…yeah… So, I finally had to tell him to stop staring and leave. Now, I get the apology as he SLOWLY backs up and shuts the door.

I sure as hell hope I made his day. The only thing I could do is laugh. And finish getting dressed, but not before I flip the other lock over the door.

September 11, 2001

8:46 am

9:03 am

9:37 am

10:03 am

2,996 people

I remember

Every once in a while we will be out and about doing stuff and my kid decides it is “Random People Picture Day”. The name of the game is to get her picture taken with as many random people as possible. The Oktoberfest this year was the perfect venue for her shenanigans, with the assistance of my nephew, Mori.

I am always surprised at how many people agree to have their picture taken with her. This time, she only had one refusal. A boy about 4 years old wasn’t having it, even though his mom tried really hard to get him to agree.

My kid…she’s weird, but awesome, in the most awesome way possible.

Oktoberfest 2010

(Click on picture above to see the album)

I would wait.
I would run.
I would stop.
I would go; fast, slow, backwards, forwards.
I would fall so fast; I fell so fast, so hard that each second in each minute became something epic, tangible, and vastly significant.
Those seconds were smooth and soothing as they ran through my fingers.
They made my heart race, those seconds, they slowed my breathing and there is this lingering feeling in my stomach.
This feeling maybe tugging, maybe an aching, it is oh so welcome.
These seconds let the light in; they are blinding in their beauty.
I shut my eyes to feel them rush past.
Eyes closed, I still know they are a blur, time is a blur, but it is so lovely.

Here…

Or here…

Or here…

Or here…

One of my friends (@KrissyPaul) on Twitter posted this link the other day. Kubideh Kitchen, a take-out restaurant that only serves cuisine from countries that the United States is in conflict with.

How cool is this idea? First of all…yum! Secondly, some sociologists have noted, food is probably one of the easiest ways for cultures to assimilate one another. It will be interesting to see what country they will highlight next. Someone in the SL,UT needs to jump on this idea and set up shop here. Not that we don’t already have Middle Eastern restaurants here (I’m dying to try Mazza), but the idea behind why is brilliant! Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we all tried to understand and embrace each others culture? And this would be why I’m an International Studies student. Foreigners and foreign cultures fascinate me and food is always a great introduction.

This reminds me to tell you about the book I am currently reading, Laughing without an Accent: Adventures of a Global Citizen, which is the second book by Firoozeh Dumas. The first book being, Funny in Farsi: A Memoir of Growing Up Iranian in America. Both, excellent reads. Each chapter, a vignette of humorous stories of the life of an immigrant from Iran. I particularly like the stories about her father, Kazem. I need to meet this man, what a character! Having come to the US prior to the Iranian Revolution, it was heartbreaking to read how she and her family were treated by Americans during and after the Iran Hostage situation. I was only 10 at the time that occurred, but I vaguely remember the negative sentiment towards Iranians. Same goes for current conditions with Afghanistan and Iraq, not to mention Iran and other Middle Eastern countries. We can not take the evil actions of some and paint a sweeping judgement across them all. Each has a unique and beautiful history and culture, filled with amazing, vibrant people. And food, don’t forget the food!

Firoozeh Dumas is also a contributor on NPR, you can hear her podcasts here.

Want more books that look into other cultures? I’ve read several books written by Jean Sasson, to include the Princess Trilogy. A fascinating look into life in Saudi Arabia.

Nine Parts of Desire: The Hidden World of Islamic Women. Endlessly fascinating and a real eye opener.

Both books by Luong Ung (Cambodia) and Le Ly Hayslip (Vietnam). Both women write about their experiences in their native countries, during The Killing Fields and Vietnam War, respectively. With follow up books describing their experiences as immigrants in the US.

Any book by Amy Tan, although novels, she includes mass amounts of information about Chinese culture. I really liked Saving Fish from Drowning, which takes place mostly in Burma (Myanmar) and introduced me to Animism and how this religion or philosophy works.

And for God’s sake, next time you go out to dinner, skip the nasty chain restaurants and check out a locally owned ethnic place. Don’t know where to go? Check out Urbanspoon. Restaurants are rated by customers, include media and customer reviews and often have a link to menus and websites. Try something new. Learn something new. Look beyond being American.

So, I think I have figured it out. June has it out for me. I’m not sure what I did to June to piss it off, but as far as I can tell it started last year. During the last week of May this year, I was recalling how absolutely craptastic June was last year. Then, I was thinking how fast the last year has gone by. Then, I was wondering if June would once again be craptastic.

The answer is YES!

1. Found out some very disturbing information that I, unfortunately, can not discuss. (Don’t you just hate when I do that? I only mention it because it adds to the shiteousness. You will just have to trust me on this one. It was a like a punch to the gut.)

2. While in Seattle last week, my nephew was house/dog sitting for me. That is, he was looking after Nero, Kitty, Tigger and the new one Martini. Oh, yeah, and the cat Mao Mei.

Nero, Tigger & Kitty

Teeny Martini

My ex decided he wanted to have one of the dogs at his house. Technically, Nero, Kitty and Tigger were “our” dogs, but since the split, they live with me and occasionally visit him, but usually when he has the kids too. I didn’t know he had Kitty at his house. First, I hear about it when Tal called to tell me he lost Kitty in Murray Park (which is right behind his house). She ended up coming back later. Then, the next day, while driving home, I get a text message from the ex, telling me Kitty got out again, was hit by a car and has died.
R.I.P. Kitty.

3. I have one kid in Louisiana visiting her Papa. It is a two week visit. She was good for about a week and now just wants to come home. The other kid was dropped off at my brothers house in Seattle. This is her first time away from home and so far away. It was horrible to have to call her and tell her about Kitty. She’s a huge animal lover, especially when it comes to our pets. The remaining 12 hours of that drive home was pure hell!

4. School. Five classes this semester. It’s finally sunny outside. Enough said.

5. It’s a Friday night and I am sitting at home. I should be doing homework, but instead I’m blogging and fighting off spiders. But, really, I should be doing something entirely different and can’t.

According to item #3 on my Fuckit List, I want to visit all fifty states someday. So far, I’ve been to 34 and by early next month, I will have bumped it up to 35 by driving to Seattle, which FINALLY gets me Oregon.

I recently came across a blog, 48 States, 50 Days. Greg is a recent graduate of Texas A&M University. On June 7th, he will start this little adventure and will be blogging along the way. This is his route:

I’m so jealous! This trip would be grueling, but so incredible. It also reminds me of one of our recent book club books, Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck. If you haven’t read it, you should. And keep up with Greg too.

I forgot I had a blog!

Nah, really, haven’t had anything to say or at least the desire to write it down or the time to not do it.

I should maybe write something soon.

Update: had to correct a spelling error. Can’t type for shit lately. Also, a good reason for my absence.

Nineteen years ago today, I stood in a small Justice of the Peace office in Slidell, La, just outside of New Orleans. Earlier that day, I had graduated from my Air Force tech school at Keesler Air Force Base, Biloxi, MS. We had gotten engaged over the phone a few weeks before, while I was in basic training at Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, TX. Just a few weeks prior to that, we had broken up and I had moved out. Back up a few months earlier, I had moved in with him after only knowing him for two months. Even when I look back at it, I think it’s was crazy. But, I was only 20, and twenty-somethings don’t always make the best judgement calls. (Read: Twenty-somethings shouldn’t even be allowed to make those kind of decisions.)

Back to the JP office. We were late getting there, so it was just me, him and the JP. We were handed a piece of paper with the vows typed on them. I skimmed through them quickly, briefly stopping to cross out the words “obey” where ever they appeared. (That’s a fact!) C’mon, I was 20, but not that damn stupid. It was quick and painless and we were on our way.

Why in God’s name would I marry someone I had only known for a total of 7 months, and already had issues with? I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that for years. Best I can come up with is that once I got to basic training, I got scared to go on this little adventure all by myself. Maybe, it’s because he was fun and made me laugh and I loved him.

Do I regret my marriage? Not one bit. Would any sane person regret it? Probably. Do I regret the decision to divorce. Not for one millisecond.

I have a deep belief that everything happens for a reason. For every miserable moment, there was an equally joyous moment. But, there came a time when the bad ones started to outweigh the good. A time I knew I deserved better. A time I knew it was time to move on. A long realization that I deserved to be happy. It taught me invaluable lessons. I become a better person. And I was given two incredible daughters.

Now, if I could just get this divorce finalized, so I can start my new adventures with no unfinished business.

I’m coming to the end of the spring semester. I’ve learned two very important things. I totally suck at math, but I totally kick ass at English!

I failed algebra and will have to take it again. Boo!

I got an A in English. My last assignment was a Research Paper. This is the feedback I got from my professor on the rough draft submission:

Exceptional work. The paper was well-written, assertively argued, and expertly supported with quality sources.

This is the feedback I got on my final draft:

You did an exceptional job on the research paper. Would you mind if I used your paper as a sample student paper for future students?

Oh yeah! I rock! Algebra can SUCK IT!!

If interested, you can read my paper below. (Psst…you might just learn something you didn’t previously know.)

U.S. and the Khmer Rouge

The Khmer Rouge, a Cambodian communist guerilla organization, formed in the early 1970’s, overtook Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital city, in 1975, creating what they called Democratic Kampuchea. Led by Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge, reigned terror over the people of Cambodia until 1979, killing an estimated 1.5 million Cambodians in the worst act of genocide in modern times. They were not stopped until the Vietnamese military intervened and overthrew the despotic government. The Khmer Rouge, although out of power, remained intact and active for three decades, thanks in no small part to the United Nations and the United States government and its policies, which failed to intervene or to hold Pol Pot and his regime responsible.

During this time period, which overlapped the United States’ involvement in the neighboring Vietnam War, the U.S. not only did not attempt to prevent the massacre of nearly one fourth of the Cambodian population, but actually assisted and armed the Khmer Rouge. The U.S. continued to support the murderous faction until policy changes in the 1990’s. In doing so, the United States, claiming to stand on the moral high ground and continuously touting moral and ethical human treatment, frequently maintains duplicitous policies.

In the book, Altered States: A Reader in the New World Order, the author Ben Kiernan states, “During the Pol Pot period… Cambodia was subjected to probably the world’s most radical political, social, and economic revolution. The country was cut off from the outside world, its cities were emptied, its economy was militarized, its Buddhist religion and folk culture was destroyed, and 1.5 million of its eight million people were starved and massacred…and all neighboring countries were attacked” (384).

Pol Pot was a Khmer, an ethnic group that comprised about 80 percent of the Cambodian population. He sought to eliminate those with any other ethnic makeup, generally those that were Vietnamese, Thai or Chinese Cambodians. Also, targeted for execution were intellectuals, and government and military officials from the previous administration. Pol Pot claimed to prefer the simple Khmer peasant, but, many of them were killed also, after being subjected to severe forced labor and starvation. Many others were killed for the inability to adapt to the forced labor camps or for being in the religious minority. In the end he managed to exterminate thousands of ethnic, so-called pure Khmers. Because of this, the term autogenocide was coined, which means the mass murder of one’s own people. The bones of millions of people litter Cambodia’s “Killing Fields” (Bergin 7).

According to the article by Peter Goodman in The Washington Post, on U.S. involvement, “Cambodians first felt the impact of American interests in 1969, courtesy of the Nixon administration’s secret bombing campaign during the Vietnam War” (C2). Goodman goes on to say, “Vietnamese troops fighting the U.S.-backed government in Saigon were taking sanctuary inside Cambodia; the United States responded by carpet bombing the technically neutral country. Amid the resulting food shortages and tides of refugees, the Khmer Rouge guerrillas thrived. They took the Cambodia capital, Phnom Penh, in April 1975, two weeks before Saigon fell” (C2)

Subsequent administrations continued flawed policies concerning Cambodia. In the book State Terrorism and the United States: From counterinsurgency to the War on Terror, Zbigniew Brzezinski, the National Security Advisor during the Carter administration, claims “I encouraged the Chinese to support Pol Pot…Pol Pot was an abomination” (qtd. in Gareau 170). The United States, Brzezinski stated, “winked semi-publicly at Chinese and Thai aid for the Khmer Rouge” (qtd. in Gareau 170).

Support for the Khmer Rouge came in the form of millions of dollars in monetary and military aid, with its beginnings in the Nixon administration, all the way through the Reagan administration. They also continued to exist because Western governments, to include the United States and the United Nations, continued to recognize the Khmer Rouge government as the official government of Cambodia, even after the Vietnamese invasion and subsequent set up of a new government (Clymer 139-140). The U.S. continually vetoed aid proposals from the United Nations, World Bank, and International Monetary Fund to assist Cambodians who were suffering. They did not change their stance until almost a year after the Vietnamese withdrew from Cambodia. However, during the ten year period of Vietnamese occupation, the U.S. supported the Khmer Rouge militarily to the tune of $17-32 million per year (Kiernan 387).

Not until Vietnamese withdrawal and the U.S. and Soviet relations started to normalize in the 1990’s, did policies start to change, giving Cambodia a reasonable shot at normalcy. An article in The New York Times quotes a senior Asian diplomat as saying, “It came to the point that any move Hun Sen made, no matter how positive, was immediately discounted in Washington as a trick of the Vietnamese. It has been obsessive and counterproductive” (Erlanger).

The U.S. was instrumental in ensuring Pol Pot was never brought to justice for the worst genocide in the 20th century. Although, the new Cambodian government held trials, without the presence of Pol Pot and sentenced him to death, the Thai government refused to turn him over and the U.S. failed to demand they do so (Bergin 43). He remained comfortably positioned in Cambodia, although under house arrest, near the border of Thailand, until he died in 1998. His followers claimed he died from a heart attack, but it is also widely rumored he was killed, possibly poisoned by former members of his own group (Gareau 171).

The plight of the Cambodian people was not well known to the average American. The western media helped the U.S. government shield what was actually occurring. Stories of the genocide began to leak out of Cambodia after the Khmer Rouge were displaced, but Americans did not understand it completely until the 1985 release of the movie The Killing Fields. The horrors of this period of time were beginning to be realized and the American people demanded something be done (Gareau 170).

The United States fixation with anything anti-Vietnamese and anti-Soviet formed devastating human rights policies in relation to Cambodia. More than a million people died and millions of others suffered torture and unbelievable cruelty. Just as Pol Pot was never held responsible on the world stage for the atrocities he instigated and committed, nor has the United States ever taken responsibility for their part in it.