I’m lucky. Ever since high school, I’ve successfully hidden under my bi cloak of invisibility from the more hateful parts of society. The assumed straight default of a heterosexual marriage, means that no one has attacked me for my queerness. Basically don’t shout I like to eat out chicks in a room full of Christians, and I’ll live a mostly peaceful, closeted life.

That may change soon. Before I never had to worry about pda with a girl because I never dated a girl. In the part of my life before marriage, my internalized misogyny said girls are for fucking not dating, and the monogamous marriage to a man hid me further. Falling in love with a girl and becoming a feminist has changed me. My Kinsey scale has shifted and with it my perspective. Tonight I go to a gay bar to watch a burlesque show with a friend. I also go to meet girls. I am still not exactly ready for dating girls other than my girlfriend (with whom irl stuff is irrelevant) but I might be up for some pda. I might want to walk away from tonight’s experience with a kiss goodnight or some intimate hand holding in nearby coffee shop.

And my perspective has changed. I can’t assume I won’t be kicked out of the coffee shop. I can’t assume that the stares won’t escalate to violence. I can’t assume I will walk away without scars.

Tom Cotton tells me to have perspective though. At least they don’t hang me for being queer. My question though is how long before my perspective has to shift again. How long before your religious freedom that denies me rights becomes your religious freedom that denies me life? My current perspective states that although violence against me isn’t publicly sanctioned, doesn’t mean it isn’t publicly supported. Laws like the religious freedom bill in Indiana are what shift perspective the wrong direction. Tell me again to have perspective, I’ve had plenty for the time being.


Oh hi there

It’s been a long time since I’ve found the motivation to write. I’ve been more into practicing art lately. The discovery of Fresh Paint on Win 8 has been a lot of fun. I feel like it’s a bit like cheating with the eraser and all. Anyway I am not sure what I plan to do with this website. Not even sure if I want to keep it come February next year. The few people who still care about my updates should let me know what you think. I don’t have the emotional strength to address politics anymore. I might be able to do some personal updates from time to time (I still haven’t been able to sit and write the one hard post I’ve wanted to write for over a year now). I could post art stuff as I make it. Or possibly stories if I manage to write one outside my head. After reading a comic for the last week I’ve considered trying to draw a comic (probably won’t happen as my drawing skills suck). Help me with some ideas and maybe we can keep this thing going.

A poem

I’ve been thinking about this one a couple of days now. Finally sat down to write it. I hope you enjoy.

Manic Pixie Dream Girl
Tomorrow is a ghost of herself
Never fully present
Indecision kept her distant, cold
On the brink of ascent
Tomorrow’s suitors always seem
Biased to her best
Each driven mad eventually
In pursuit of all the rest
Tomorrow is an honest girl
Whose promise is a lie
It never is her fault
That we imagine enough to try




Yummy rummy cake balls

This is a recipe of my own invention. It comes from my general love of cake pops/cake balls (even if I can’t make them as pretty as others seem to manage). I didn’t come up with the recipe for the rum glaze. It comes from my family’s recipe they use for their rum cake (which is delicious by the way). Anyway I got the idea in my head for rum cake balls and those kind of ideas get stuck till I find a way to make them happen. I hope you like them.


rum cake ballsIngredients


Yellow cake mix

All the other ingredients based on box instructions, typically water, oil, and eggs

Rum Glaze:

1 cup of sugar

1/2 cup (1 stick) of butter

1/4 cup water

1/2 cup Dark Bicardi Rum


2 bottles of Caramel Magic Shell ice cream topping

About 2 cups chopped pecans. I buy them already chopped into cookie piece size

Toothpicks (for dipping)

Foam block wrapped in plastic wrap (for putting the dipped balls into harden)


Make the cake according to directions for 9×13 inch pan size. Allow to cool. In a large bowl crumble the cake into very fine crumbles. There may be some corners that are too hard to crumble fine and you can throw those out. Set aside.

In a sauce pan melt butter and slowly add water and sugar. Bring to boil and boil for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in rum. Mix glaze and cake crumbles (I only needed about 3/4 of the glaze I made) in to a dough like consistency (I wear gloves and use my hands.) Chill for about an hour or so. This makes it easier for roll into balls. Roll out approximately 1 inch diameter balls on wax paper or plastic wrap using the entire mixture to do so. Put one toothpick in each ball and place them into the freezer till at least mostly frozen. This helps keep the balls on the toothpicks when you dip them.

Take one of the bottles of Caramel Magic Shell and dump it into a narrow bottomed bowl (easier to dip in). This may require some heating to get entire contents into bowl. Microwave 30 seconds and stir till even consistency. in another wider bowl have pecan pieces ready. Take about five cake balls at a time out the freezer. Dip one at a time using a spoon to help coat if necessary. Drip excess of the the ball and then sprinkle pecans over the pecan bowl so as not to waste falling pecans. Coat entirety of ball in caramel and pecans then place toothpick into foam to harden. After the fifth one is dipped the first 3-4 are hard enough to remove the tooth picks and place on a plate or platter. Repeat this process adding more pecans and other bottle of caramel as needed. Doing only five at a time will keep the ones frozen while you work and you will have less balls dropping off the toothpicks. Basically it makes life easier.


That’s about all there is to it. Many of the steps allow for breaks in between so this is surprisingly easy to make based on a schedule. If you try it out feel free to come back and tell me how you liked them. They are alcoholic but barely so keep that in mind when serving.


Talking about harassment at work

Just so everyone knows, I started a new job at the prison as a Corrections Officer (CO). It probably doesn’t surprise anyone that the overwhelming majority of new trainees are men. Even more so that there are even fewer women CO’s that have been there for a long time. I won’t say it is in the hiring though. Right now they are hiring all the fresh bodies they can get. Much the gender gap is in the recruiting and the perceptions that CO is a “man’s job.”

But the retention of competent females is another thing all together. I bet part of it has something to do with the story a woman CO told us as a class yesterday. The story tells of her own harassment in one particular area at the prison. The basics boiled down to men CO’s making sexually explicit jokes pointed at her and in front of the inmates. That last bit is important. The other CO’s were making the offensive and harassing jokes in front of inmates, some of whom are guaranteed to be looking for exploitative opportunities. One time that someone violates a boundary to that degree in such a dangerous manner is inexcusable. However, the jokes and harassment continued after she requested they stop.

She went to her superiors and asked to move and explained why. She specifically did not want to file a sexual harassment report about it but didn’t not want to be in the same department with people who were hurting her. She was moved as requested and nothing happened to her harassers (not that I am sure anything could have happened without her request).

All would have been fine if the woman telling the story had stopped there. Everyone in the room could have imagined her reasons for not reporting officially her harassment. But she didn’t stop. Instead she proceeded to recommend to the few women and sea of men that women think twice before officially reporting their harassment. Her reasoning was clear. That anyone who brings in outside help in handling their harassment, risks being ostracized from the group. That “everyone will treat” us “different” if we don’t handle this under the table. That our coworkers will be afraid to cut up and be friendly.

She basically told us not to report our harassment. She basically told us to run from it and do what she did so we won’t be friendless. She basically said let the next woman who works in that department handle it.

The funny thing is  that probably everyone knows that last damaging nugget of info she chose to share. As women many of us have always had to navigate the very narrow corridor of what is considered the “proper way” to handle such things. Most of us women don’t report, know how much we risk by reporting. Most of us women don’t need another reason to hide our harassment.

We need a reason to bring it to daylight.

This is an especially pertinent topic right now in the atheist/skeptic movement. People in our movement have far too long been stifled, silenced by all the reasons to “keep quiet.” The status quo fighters have done their duty in hiding harassment from the delicate eyes of everyone else. Now however, women and men in this movement are speaking out about this. One person risking it all and giving her peers a reason to talk was enough to start a mini chain-reaction.

I wish the woman teaching us yesterday would have been like like you all who are fighting harassment tooth and nail rather than passing it off to the next victim. I wish she would have at least said that she had our back in however we choose to handle our own harassment.

Suicide as a tool

This one requires a trigger warning about suicide. I have suicidal ideations. You can read some of my thoughts on suicide here. I wanted to talk more about this today since this seems to be a hot button discussion recently. I have thoughts and I want to get them out.

I think about suicide on most days. I consider myself committing suicide in such a variety of ways. But it is all the time. Sometimes it is worse. I don’t just think about it. Sometimes suicide isn’t just a crutch. Sometimes it is an urge. A drive. A desire. At those times I want to talk about it. I usually do talk about it. Unsurprisingly though the urge springs up at the worst times. When things are bad in life. The various stresses that cause fights to arrive in the family are also triggers for urges to commit suicide.

And that’s when I am afraid.

I can’t just talk about it. Then I am manipulating. I know it. I feel that dirty feeling deep inside my core. That sensation that I am a fucking horrible human being. Those are the times that I end up holding on to knives in the bathroom. Or the times that I punch myself in the legs till the pain makes my head less swimmy. Bite my knuckles till I can’t think of anything else but the sensation I feel.

The anxiety I feel when talking about my suicide when I most need to talk about it is the worst. Sometimes I still talk about it. Sometimes I don’t. I get to a certain point and I have no choice. Talk or risk.

I say all this because I am absolutely terrified that every time I talk about suicide I am using it as a weapon. I am terrified that the fact that I can think about it this much even when I want to kill myself means that I am definitely manipulating those I love.  I am absolutely terrified I am the horrible person in my head.

But my sane self. The one who checks up one me and shares the rumination capacity of my crazy self, is there to remind me that this is always in my head. Suicide isn’t just there as a tool for manipulation. No suicide is real and present even when there is nothing and no one thing making me sad. Those are the times I need to remember when I need to talk about my thoughts.

That was a lot of rambling for the point I am going to get to next.

I am not the only one who does this, who deals with suicidal thoughts and fears talking about them because talking about it means you drag everyone else into your own horrible web of manipulation. A lot of people experience these thoughts and feels.

So keeping that in mind, accusing someone of using suicide to manipulate is a dangerous thing. Maybe they are using against others. Doesn’t mean they don’t internally struggle with the pain of doing so. I kinda don’t care if a person has a history of manipulation.  I have “friends” like that. For them I don’t vest myself emotionally too much, but I would never accuse them of rigging the game.

I’ve only had one time where I confronted someone with their own threat of suicide. It was direct. It was public. That time took it to a whole new level of wrong. That time the person attempted to cause harm and did cause harm with their words. Even then my confrontation was such that I merely gave him outs from that which was causing him difficulty and explained the unfairness of his accusations.

And yes there are those who abuse through manipulation. But they don’t do it once. It isn’t an isolated incident. The threats aren’t “I can’t handle the deck life has handed me” but rather “I am going to kill myself if you don’t fix this.” There is a difference. It is surprisingly clear to an outsider even if it isn’t clear to the victim.

Maybe that was a longish point after all. Suicidal brains are tricky. They prey on our vulnerabilities. They make us shut up when we want to talk and visa versa. They convince us to do the thing we fear slightly less than what we fear the most.

I hope that people consider a little more the risk we play when we accuse someone of manipulating through suicide. Publicly no less. I am not saying that horrible people shouldn’t be held accountable for their horribleness. I just don’t think that questioning the validity of their depression, their suicidal ideations, is in anyway helpful to the person or the further reaching audience of your public post.

I don’t know if I have a good solution with all this but rather to ask people to try to be a bit more empathetic. Even to our enemies. Certainly to our friends and admirers.

This isn’t one of those “I know something” posts. So tell me your thoughts. Help me weigh the risks of pointing out perceived manipulation.




Today my instructor at the prison said that he didn’t like the term minority as he saw everyone as equal. I thought about it for all of a second and proceeded to write this tidbit down.

The fact that we see a disparity between PoC inmates and PoC employee makes it obvious that we engage in systemic, damaging, cultural discrimination against PoC. To say that you can’t see color or that everyone is equal is a lie. We all see color. By choosing to ignore it under the guise of proclaimed equality is to perpetuate injustice against PoC.

It was a short thought but immediate reaction my part.

Internet, you’ve taught me well. Thanks.

Oh hai guiz

If the last two posts are any indication, I would like to start writing again. I work a lot anymore, and I highly doubt things will show up everyday. I want to write though. I think about writing a lot then get defeated and hopeless, and I never get it done. That is kind of what throwing yesterday’s post up was about. I figure that if the world if too much for me to critique for awhile, I will focus on writing something a bit more exciting. Maybe I won’t burn out. Maybe my readers won’t either. Anyways is good to be back and I hope to get lots of feedback on the smut pieces. I would love to turn them into stories one day.

Pageants and my personal sexist behavior

When my daughter was right around a year old I entered her into her first baby pageant. I think I took her more than anything to show her off. Little W is/was adorable after all.  I was kind of grateful that she didn’t win. I didn’t want an excuse to come back. Even then, I dreaded the decision then as much as I regret the decision today. I want to talk about why.

1) Equality. I didn’t enter my son to a similar pageant when he was a baby. All my talk about sexism, equality, and gender roles, at the end of the day I never thought once about entering my equally adorable son.*

2) Makeup. I hate it. Somewhere in my teen years I noticed the ritualized obsession my friends and parents would apply a coating to their face. Makeup wasn’t a hobby. It was an obligation. I saw the obligation starting in babies and I was horrified.

3) Disappointment. As a rule, babies don’t feel disappointment when they lose a competition. They don’t even know they are competing, so there is no doubt that the disappointment I saw in parents was not mirrored child tears. These parents were actually sad their sons and daughters did not win an arbitrary contest of beauty that at least fifty babies (all adorable) competed in.

4) Obsession. Now this one is not limited to pageants. Parents obsess over making their kids winners in all sorts of ways that are otherwise healthy competitions. The pageant circuit though has obsession in droves. To the effect that body modifications, extreme diets, and costly dresses (often worn once) are the norm rather than the exception.

Pageants do little more than reinforce the idea that children have to be something they are not naturally to be seen as beautiful. While I am less bitter about adult pageants, I actually abhor forcing this on children. It is cruel at its worst, and sexist at its best. Childhood beauty pageants aren’t healthy competition.

They are gender policing, normative conditioning monsters

Which is why I never took my daughter back.

*A decision I don’t think I would make today. People change. Even their own sexist behaviors.