Made for More

Real Manhood means you don’t get drunk, and a man can get drunk on a lot more than alcohol. Men drunk on power, on control, on ego, lose more than all inhibition — they lose the way, their own souls. Men drunk on anything can destroy everything and real manhood thirsts for righteousness. Real manhood means that in a culture where it’s the tendency to bend, you’ll stand. That in situations where there’s tendency to look the other way, you’ll look for help. That, at times when there’s a tendency to be divisive on the secondary and a unified front of silence on the painful, you’ll seek to rightly divide the truth and unify the brokenhearted. Real Men never pressure but treasure. No one tries to crush a diamond. Because pressuring a girl? Is blackmail, coercion and repeated robbery attempts. You’re meant to be a man, not the mafia. The thing is: Real manhood means you hallow womanhood. A woman isn’t a toy to amuse your lusts, a thing to aggrandize your ego, a trophy to adorn your manhood. A woman is of your rib, who birthed your rib, who cupped your rib, who is meant to be gently cherished at your rib, at your side.

The culture of boys will be boys — means girls will be garbage and you were made for more than this, boy.


To be made and unmade, and made again.

I grew up living with my sister, Ashley, and my mother, Ann. This is because my biological father (whose name I don’t really care to share) was is a real piece of work. He has a wrap sheet that’s pages upon pages in length, from stalking to battery and neglect. He has never outgrown being the self-indulgent child that he was before he ever met my mother. And all the other ruthless mothers and broken families he made. He created a handful of broken homes and left our families shattered, picking up his messy pieces and finding other families in the same situation due to him. For years. I have one sister that I was raised with, and many that I was not. Some, I did not even find until just a couple years ago. We bound ourselves together into a semblance of one really big, really fucked up family.

I remember the first times I met each of my siblings and their families. Siblings who I should have had an entire lifetime of knowing. It was extremely emotional. And awkward. But we grew to like and love each other, despite living miles and miles apart and being too young to really grasp what we were forced to deal with. So we grappled instead of grasped. We clung to what we knew, because it was all we knew.

Though it is confusing, conflicting, and unimaginably strange, my family is beautiful. It is the only blessing my father bestowed me. He made me, and then he left. My mom met a man named Jordan, who adored me, even though I was two, and not his. He spoke to my biological father and said, “Hey, you’re not here, and I am, let me have her” (I’m paraphrasing). So my father gave me up for adoption, and Jordan became my dad in all legal respects.  He became my shiny, smiling new dad by loving me in a way that only a father can love a daughter. When I got older and my dad (Jordan) and mom had divorced, things got rocky. When I learned I was adopted, that Jordan was not my dad, I had an identity crisis between the ages of 8 and 9. I did not know who to call “dad” any longer. I didn’t know what family meant. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t look at the man I thought was my dad all along but wasn’t, and not know what I wish I hadn’t known. I played the cards dealt me, and I got over it with time. Things got back to normal between my mother, my dad Jordan, and my Sister and I. Now, I just also happen to have a long story about a sperm donor who made me, along with a lot of other younger sisters and a youngest brother. He gifted me with the relationships that I now have with them and aaaaaalllllllll the rest of the family that came with the package. It’s confusing, and any man that decides to marry me is going to have a helluva time trying to get the family tree straight, but that’s okay 🙂

I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rest In Peace

When I walked into the department store with my mom I was one unhappy camper. I was one of the three 16-year-old girls in Minnesota that hated shopping and I’d spent my day making that clear to my mother. However, she wasn’t having it. She felt that the clothes of my last identity phase were silly, and they were, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Since I’d outgrown my black attire and my “woe-is-me” attitude, it was time to get a new wardrobe. I was moderately stomping my way through the store in huffy defiance with heavy sighs when my mom spotted a pair of jeans that she lifted off the rack. Somehow, to this day, mom knows what will fit me better than I do. That’s when we first met. It was instant attraction.

You were low rise, but not too low, and boot cut, with just a tiny flare, and you were extra long, because my mom said I have ostrich legs. Inside my head, I wanted to try you on and take you home and outline you in the chaser bulbs you see on old school movie theatre signs, that’s how awesome you were. But I was still a teenager, and I didn’t want my mom to see my sudden change of attitude because back then it was impossible for me to admit defeat or that I was wrong, so I kept a cool exterior. Looking back I think she knew I was excited, but she let me keep my illusion of dignity. Thanks for that, mom. So we went to the dressing room and I tried you on.  Mom was right. We were MFEO (made for each other). You hugged me in all the right places, covered flaws, and made my butt look great while not making me feel like I was showing off. You fit me like the sleeve cover of a good book, an outward illustration of the story that is me. I had to have you. Thus began our long-term relationship.

You were the first pair of jeans I’d wear after I washed my laundry. You were with me during every important moment in my life that called for casual clothing from live concerts and festivals, to my first date ever. You were my lucky jeans I’d wear for finals even into my first years of college. Through the years you began to fade, but I didn’t mind. Your denim just got softer. Eventually, your hemline began to fray with exposure to my life. I didn’t mind that, either. It just added character. After another year or so, your fabric began to get really thin, and you tore in the knee. I remember my gasp of surprise when I heard the unmistakable “riiip.” But I kept on sporting you with my favorite band tees and flannels until you were too ragged even for that. Then you transitioned into my work pants. You and I were a team. We got stuff done together. We painted the house I rented. We cleaned and did yard work together.

All of that ended recently when I was for some reason, wearing you in public. Maybe for nostalgia? I was walking into Caribou and I felt a breeze on my rear. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. I got my coffee to go and walked out the store. I felt that breeze again, colder this time, and I froze, my eyes wide and my mouth shaped around a silent O. So that’s why the guy at the register smiled big at me. You wore too thin and worked too hard, and left me feeling exposed. It was the end. You had reached your final breaking point and you just couldn’t handle it anymore, and thus marked the end of our 7-year relationship. You lived a long life and served me well. You were a part of the family. Rest in peace, my favorite jeans. I’ll never forget you.

What would I say?

Looking back on my life, I do not regret much because the choices I’ve made so far have led to the present, which I am happy with. But there are points in our lives where we all should reflect on our past and the choices we’ve made. If I could rewind the clock and tell myself at various points in my life what my choice in that moment would mean for the future,

I’d tell myself at ages 8-10 that though my parents are divorcing, it’s got nothing to do with me. I’d tell myself to pay closer attention to Ashley.

I’d tell myself at 14 that I’m too young to start crying over boys.

I’d tell myself at 16 that it’s okay to not know who you are yet, that’s what these years are for.

I’d tell myself at 17 not to argue with my mother so fiercely that we spent a year not speaking. I’d tell myself that a best friend is just a friend for a reason, because dating him will be the end of everything between us, that he will change and I will not like who he becomes.

I’d tell myself at 18 to not be so afraid of making a mistake that I become immobile in life decisions and to just GO TO SCHOOL (I’d be graduated by now, instead of on my junior year). I’d tell myself that I don’t have to settle for subpar.

I’d tell myself at 21 to go see a psychologist to deal with my feelings and fears, before I make a huge mistake and hurt someone.

I’m 23 now, and if I could clone myself and listen to myself, I would say

You’ve done well, you’re almost at that next stage of your life. You’re on the precipice, so don’t, please don’t, give up. You’re so close.

Strength, and sometimes lack thereof

HAAAMIGAWD! I know, it’s been a very long time. My sincere apologies to all.. thirteen of you who keep up regularly. I’ve been really busy, but I guess that’s just no excuse. Honestly, I’ve mostly been waiting for something worth talking about publicly.

Okay, so here’s some updates on me:

1. In December, I took a trip to Colorado and spent some time with family, and then in the rockies at Breckenridge resort with someone pretty rad who helped me deal with some shit.

2. I have about a week and a half left of this semester at a community college, which leads to my subsequent..

3. I am transferring to a state university soon to finish out my last two years (Almighty Universal Forces please help me, whoever you are).

4. I have quit my job and am now in the middle of switching between two jobs.

5. My new job is at a local chain restaurant. I’ve never been in the serving industry, but hey, a girl’s gotta make a livin’.

6. I like to get outside, which is why I am never here, at my laptop, writing to you. Mah bad.

Now that that’s out of the way, I would like to talk about what I came here to talk about today.


Yeah, I know, yadda, yadda, yadda. It can be so cliché. Look away if you must. I want to say that I know people personally, and have heard stories close to the hearts of those I love, that have touched this base within me recently. It takes strength to fend off the ghosts that haunt us. We’ve all experienced things that have left us scarred.

To face things in the moment takes monumental strength and courage, and sometimes even sheer defiance and willpower. I know what it’s like to have to only focus on making it through the day – to hell with any other goals, there’s no room for other goals right now.

yeah, I know. Ibeenthere. Eventually, after facing that goal of surviving day in and day out, you reach a precipice without even knowing it. You recognize the strength within you, the power you command over yourself.

Don’t deny yourself that feeling. You deserve to feel in control, powerful, and strong. You fought with everything in you not to cave, and somehow, you fucking made it.

You cannot control everything that happens, obviously. But you can control how it all affects you. You don’t have to be chased by ghosts. You can face them. You are strong enough, trust me. It’s not easy and it’s usually not quick. You won’t know what you’re doing all the time, or how to feel. That’s okay, because at some point, you’re going to come out on the other end, looking back thinking I can do whatever I need to do. I can do anything. You can move on and let go, truly.

Now I hope to remember that next time I’m facing another situation that is by all (logical) means impossible – Nothing is impossible for me.

fucking. fed. up.

So… I’m about to vent some serious frustration. Just a heads up. All content covered in any post, and in particular, this post, is absolutely fair game for discussion. I get that I’m no political guru, but I am most definitely not completely blind to the Goat Rodeo we’ve been partaking in for the last several years. Let’s get started, shall we?

We are in the midst of what many consider to be a Constitutional Crisis. The Liberals are sitting on their hands and shrugging their shoulders while the Conservatives are jumping from one politician to the next, backing what I consider to be total fuckwads. The game of politics has lost any moral value it once held.

Case in point: Rick Santorum, aka The Most Corrupt Guy in Politics. This guy literally was named Most Corrupt in 2005 and 2006. And Iowa just fucking loves him. Here’s a couple of what I consider to be really fucking stupid ideas:

1. He was State Senator representing Pennsylvania, and he didn’t actually live in Pennsylvania. But! He thought it would be okay to take money from a school district in PA to homeschool his children there.

2. He also blatantly supports bills that favor businesses that he gets “donations” from.

Beyond these failures and faults as a politician, he’s a self-absorbed, hypocritical asshole who happens to be a walking, talking oxymoron. He contradicts himself constantly because he just doesn’t have the balls to follow through with an ideal so as to avoid pissing anyone off. Big fucking mistake, man. If he hasn’t killed his career yet, it’s gonna be any day now.

Quoted by David LaRocque, a patriot and defender of what we thought was a civilized government:

“When we have an ineligible president, an unconstitutional monetary system, unconstitutional czars, unresponsive elected representatives, a thoroughly corrupt federal court system, undeclared wars in violation of the Constitution, an unconstitutional tax system, numerous federal agencies and departments that undertake roles far exceeding the limitations of the Constitution, serious and growing abridgement of specific constitutional rights originating from our Creator and guaranteed by the Constitution, unconstitutional infringement of the rights and prerogatives of the states on a massive scale, unconstitutional land grabs by an out-of-control federal government, outrageous abuses of governmental powers in a wide variety of areas (including the infamous TSA operation, the EPA, the IRS, the DHS, the ATF, the DEA, the CIA, the FBI, the Forest Service, the Fish and Wildlife Service as examples), a socialist welfare scheme that is both unconstitutional and is bankrupting the country, no federal budget for three years running, a “First Lady” who desires to be addressed as “Your Excellency” and has a personal staff paid for by the taxpayers as large as some small agencies, an administration overrun with individuals committed by their Marxist political philosophy to the overthrow of the Constitution and the rule of law, a so-called “Congressional Research Service” which manufactures lies intended to deceive the American people, a Department of Justice that is so corrupt that it defies comprehension and acts as if it is above the law, a corrupt Congress whose members openly exploit their positions of trust for personal financial and political gain, a Supreme Court with members who brazenly defy the obligation of recusal in the face of outrageous conflicts of interest, a Speaker of the House who proclaims that a bill must be passed before we can find out what is in it, unconstitutional “government sponsored enterprises” (including FNMA and Freddie Mac) which have incurred huge losses arising from politically-motivated policies and which losses were borne by the taxpayers while virtually destroying large sectors of the national economy, the passage of a plainly unconstitutional health care bill which will almost certainly destroy what is left of the economic vitality of the nation and insure the descent of the nation into a fiscal abyss from which there can be no recovery, election fraud on a massive scale, and on and on – well we just don’t have much of a Constitution left, in my opinion.”

-I could not have said it better myself. I feel hopelessly doomed to sit by and watch these corrupt cockgoblins ruin our political and economical systems. Why is the imbecile in the majority, in power? Where is the morality and the principle? Why is it that an entire nation of frustrated people cannot get what they deserve from a government that is supposed to be a Republic, to serve the people. This is not right.


I get it! Writing a post in honor of the new year is marginally bromide, but whatever, I’ll bite. I figured I’d compile a small review of 2011.

I don’t believe that the world will end in 2012, and I think any crackpot who truly does believe so should probably make a call to the local institution where they can ride it out in one of those fancy rooms with the mushy walls. However, after looking back on all of the immensely ludicrous events of 2011 and the choices people made, I will say that one could argue that we deserve to be annihilated.

1. The End of the World!

"Two words: Judgement. Day."

Yeah. Remember this guy? He’s a Christian radio host who predicted the end of the world on May 21, 2011. Here’s the kicker: some people believed him. Some people quit their jobs and sold their homes (why would you do that if the world were really ending? Not like money’s gonna do you any good in Hell! Duhhhh) So after all the hullabaloo, the guy basically apologized. Even his apology was pointing that damn finger you see above at anyone but himself, though. He decided to scapegoat his blame to God and expected his audience to shoulder some of the shame for believing a false prediction. Way to go, asshole. Now we just gotta worry about the OTHER end of the world prediction. Le sigh.

2. Casey Anthony

Don’t look at me like that!

In 2008 this woman was indicted on the charge of first degree murder. I’m sure everyone remembers. This lovely ladeh went on a fun-time spree and neglected to mention her dead daughter to the police for like a month. Not surprisingly, the public assumed her guilty and also assumed that the courts would serve justice, which never happened. On July 7 2011, Casey Anthony was found innocent of the aforementioned charge due to lack of evidence, making her the new OJ Simpson. Instead, she was charged with lying to the police and was sentenced to one year in prison and $1,000 for every charge she was found guilty of. Even that didn’t really mean squat, though, since her sentence was set to time served. Bitches be crazy!

3. Bin Laden

Green camo totally blends in the desert!

Enough Said. I know this is still a hot button/controversial issue/whatevs you prefer to call it. No matter what way you spin it, this man became the face of a war that has dominated the news since I was a wee tot in elementary school.

4. The U.S. Gets Stormy

The U.S. doesn’t usually make these lists, but this last year has been one helluva ride. Over $35 billion in damages and 700 deaths this past year due to a compilation of major disasters. These include over 300 tornadoes in the span of 24 hours in a massive outbreak on April 27, 2011; and a month later, on May 22, 2011 there was the EF-5 tornado at Joplin, destroying the city and killing 158 people; there were also numerous floods and a drought (riddle me that!) and a big blizzard in the past year.

5. Drought in East Africa

The drought spreads across Kenya, Somalia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Djibouti has laid waste to the land and water supply, making the worst famine in decades. Estimates predict a minimum of 30,000 children dead due to famine. Thousands upon thousands flood the refugee camps daily. One camp, Dadaab, in Kenya was intended for a population of 90,000 and is now populated by 380,000 people. As many as 10 million people are affected by the drought and famine in the horn of africa to this day.

6. The Earth Quakes and Shakes


the 8.9 earthquake of 2011 in Japan was one of the worst in recorded history, and it triggered a massive tsunami which has a death toll that is still ticking. I can’t say much to speak to this because the damages to property and lives are too great and too many and still rising.

One more thing…

7. This Guy Exists

"Activating: lusty, yet thoughtful gaze"

Seriously, guys?