advice

ignorance: (noun) the state or fact of being ignorant; lack of knowledge, learning, information; the condition of being uneducated, unaware, or uninformed

Antonyms include, but are not limited to:
competence
cultivation
education
experience
intelligence
knowledge
literacy
talent
wisdom
awareness

envy

I asked two of my male co-workers last week if they anticipated themselves having "pregnancy envy" when the time comes for them to have children with a loved one. After receiving furrowed brows and confusion about my question, I elaborated more on my inquiry. Still lacking full comprehension of what it is I was asking, they both said "ENN-OHH. NOOOO." I truly admit I was surprised by their shared answer. I mean, really? How could they not be envious of the connection rooted between mother and child while a human being is created, molded, and formed in the most intimate places of a woman's body? Their reasoning for responding "no" focused upon the bloating, painful, morning sickness, ill effects of being pregnant. They couldn't fathom the sensual, spiritual, emotional components of pregnancy that circle the entire process. Penis envy, sure, fine, whatever. But pregnancy envy? It couldn't be too unimaginable for a man to possess, could it?

proud

I'm standing in the amphitheater surrounded by military loving, troop supporting Texans as Lee Greenwood sings on stage "I'm Proud to be an American." I scan the crowd before me when I see an image so provoking I have to brace my body against my seat to remain steady. I would expect American flags to be waved furiously in the air at a patriotic Freedom Concert, but I'm left stunned when I see a prosthetic leg swaying in the air to the beat. A man only a few rows from center stage is cheerfully lifting his replacement leg to a song in which sacrifice for one's country is expected and never quite honored as much as it should be. My mind races to any number of circumstances in which this man, seemingly a war veteran, is so thankful and so PROUD to be an American that his lose of a leg doesn't stop him from celebrating this freedom he has been given and fought to maintain for our country. I'm a sensitive, emotional person as it is but I was unprepared for my reaction to seeing such a visual representation.


And I’m proud to be an American,
where at least I know I’m free.
And I wont forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.

And I gladly stand up,
next to you and defend her still today.
Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land,
God bless the USA.

shame

On my route to work every day I pass by fences, billboards, overpasses, etc. covered in graffiti. Some streaky letters, some enlarged bubble letters. Never readable. Never intended to be. Background displays to the West side of San Antonio. Always a semi-hazy separation from my life.

I slowly brake to a pause at the end of my straight waiting for traffic to pass so I can turn right when I notice it: my very own stop sign tagged with black spray paint. The street I've lived on my whole life in the suburban Northwest side of town with graffiti plastered across the red sign. I was angry. I was hurt. And I called the local non-emergency police to come have it removed as quickly as possible because I'll be damned if I let graffiti slither its way into my own personal intimate sphere of life. Harsh words? Perhaps. But just wait until you have something close and comfortable in your life disregarded and destroyed right in front of you.

schmapaged

latest sentiment: everyone [and their moms] is getting engaged and it just seems to keep snowballing.

(interesting how I've only been invited to one wedding in the last year. what does that say about me?)

congrats to all those lovebirds out there floating on moon beams and diamond rings.

Picoult

I'm on a Jodi Picoult kick. I find her writing to be completely vulnerable and honest. My weeks have been filled by reading her words and stories of relationships pulled and worn by life's circumstances. I identify and question, judge and accept the different characters she introduces to me. I escape in her web of entangled emotions, and I'm grateful for discovering a new author that leaves me no choice but to finish the book. So often I find books in my room that possess makeshift bookmarks no where near the end of the story. I look back remembering my attention being drawn to another more intriguing story and discarding these books as something of the past. But Picoult lures me in her force field and I'm paralyzed with an intense focus of turning the page, the next page, and the page after that. I'm sitting here right now thinking about how much I want to go curl up on a chair and read the current Picoult book I'm engrossed with. As a matter of fact...

heartbeats

"Heartbeats" as covered by Jose Gonzalez

One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise made
Four hands and then away

Both under influence
We had divine scent
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief

Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough

And you, you knew the hands of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

[one more example of why acoustic guitar and simple lyrics melt my heart]