Freedom's Just Another Word

Here he is enjoying some January snow. Isn't he just the best?!

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."- Me and Bobby McGee, Janis Joplin

Preach it, Janis girl!

This is one of my favorite song lyrics. Usually, I feel it like a heartbeat, an insistent pulse that just feels right. But in this one rare case, I'm gonna have to disagree.

I. WANT. MY. CAR. BACK.

I've been whining for awhile now about not having my car, Orion. In April, he went to Dealware to be worked on by my father(and while I knew that it was a bad idea, it was the most cost-efficient thing to do at the time). He had a lot of problems, and about three weeks ago Padre and I decided to give him over to a higher power than ourselves(a mechanic).

Mind you, this was a bit of a new experience. We almost always do our vehicle work ourselves. I can change my tires, lugnuts, and oil, check all my fluids, and I'm pretty confident on changing my own brake pads and belts. Dad has a wealth of knowledge far surpassing my own. But between his accident and my work schedule, outsourcing was our only reasonable option.

So here we are. Me paying someone for a service. And he still hasn't gotten to my car yet. Three weeks. THREE WEEKS. And every time I say "Hey dad, think you could get Al to, you know, get my fucking car right?" he says "Well, the longer he takes, the less it'll cost, and he might do a little extra". Yes, ok, but I'm paying him. I'm paying for this service because I want it done. I took the car to him because I wanted to get it done. That's why I'm paying him rather than doing the work in what few spare hours I have. That. Is. Why. I. Am. Paying. Him.

I'm not immensely mad at Al; I have no doubt that my father told him to take his time. But fuckity fuck, I'm so tired of having no car.

My car is as much a part of me as... No, I really don't have an equivalent. I've lived out of my car. I've spent a lot of time driving and traveling. Orion took me to Virginia Beach more times than I can count. Orion took me to Georgia the last time I got to see Jon. Orion carried me to work, to college, to home, to anywhere I wanted to go. He is directly tied to my sense of freedom and my mental stability; Knowing that if life gets too bad I can just drive away has always provided comfort. Now, I've got no freedom. No security. Nothing.

Plus, I have to walk to work in the heat and/or rain, and past the creepy old dudes that keep talking about my ass. Ew.

Motherhood is Not Mandatory

If you're a young woman and you say "I don't want kids", you'll probably hear something along the lines of "You'll want them when you're older." Apparently, unlike your career choices or clothing style, your motherhood is a must-have accessory to your uterus.

There are plenty of schools of thought here. Of course, there's the patriarchy and blah blah blah. I'm not getting in to that. But there's this idea maintained throughout humanity that estrogen somehow makes you baby crazy. That some day, some how, you'll begin to hear the tick-tock of your biological clock chasing you the way that crocodile chased Captain Hook.

I'm gonna tell you two stories.

Story One starts with my mother. I was a stay-baby, a child conceived out of a desire to keep a partner around. It's actually called reproductive coercion. My mother was 100% unfit to be a mom; And let me be clear, I mean completely bad at it. There was no occasionally thinking that she was kind of ok. She was no Emily Gilmore or Roseanne. No, this woman is emotionally closed off, manipulative, needy, and easily addicted to whatever she can get her hands on. This is not someone who should've reproduced.

Now, my second story is a synopsis of a dream I recently had. In it, I was pregnant. I don't remember the details, but I can recall enough to make my point. I was scared of the pain, and confused because I didn't know whose last name the baby would have. And I kept wondering how I could get out of this predicament, because I did not want this baby at all, and how would I pay for things with all that time off work? But more than anything, I remember my dream self absolutely sobbing. The whole time.

My point is, I don't want kids. It gives me nightmares. Being female doesn't require childbearing. It's 2014. Women have options in this world. No one can force you to have a kid, and you don't have to think it's necessary. Children are a choice you can make. But I'm not making it.

Orange is the New Black, Netflix is the New HBO

There's a great new series, only on Netflix, that is taking the world by storm. It follows Piper, who voluntarily surrenders for a 15 month jail sentence for a stupid, impulsive mistake from ten years ago. There's lots of lesbians, cute men in uniform, and plot twists  for all.

The plot really isn't the most important thing. It's the doorway, but not the destination. Though the show centers on Piper, there's a large cast of characters, each given their own storylines and air time. Remember awhile ago when I was whining about lack of diversity? Well, I've found it. The Bechdel test incarnate. Women that are racially, culturally, physically, and ethically diverse as it gets. Issues that effect women, but aren't brought to light because we're viewed as these flawless things. Red handles the struggles of growing older, Aleida and Daya(mother and daughter)deal with their less-than-perfect past(while dealing with Daya's pregnancy), Nicky fights her longtime drug addiction, Caputo tries to oust his corrupt boss(who is married to a closeted gay man running for Senate), and Piper struggles with understanding her sexuality.

I want to focus on that last one for just a moment before moving on. Here we have a main character actually struggling with their sexuality. Though people are quick to call her bisexual, it seems that she's only attracted to one particular woman. Personally, I think she's more demisexual(only experiencing sexual attraction to someone you form an emotional connection with). Either way, it's incredible to see someone that's not a confirmed anything, because I don't think I've ever seen that before. The best part? That's not her defining characteristic. She's not the token bisexual. It's so fucking great and I'm so excited about that.

For too long, shows have been the same cast over and over; straight white people, or shows about black families. That's really it. You had a few outliers, but overall, you knew what kind of show either one would be in the first five minutes. I'm so happy for people who don't fit into those molds to finally see themselves on t.v. Little boys and girls will have something to look up to, no matter who they are and how they feel about themselves. It gives a point of reference for transgender people; "Oh, you're like Sophia? I guess I get that". All in all, I'm excited that the media is catching up to the rest of the world. Onward!

All Things Great And Small

When I was little, one of my favorite books was "All Things Bright and Beautiful" by James Herriot. It was a collection of stories from an Irish veterinarian. I was captivated by stories like "Mick the Dreamer"(the border collie with eyelashes growing inward, who slept all the time because closing his eyes helped the pain) and "Henry the Lamb"(A lamb whose mother refused to let him nurse. They found a ewe who had just lost her baby, tied the wool around Henry, and the two lost sheep formed a great bond). My favorite thing about these stories was the way he described the animals-just like they were people. His love for animals was so clear when you read his books that it was infectious. He was like the Mister Rogers of critters.

He was probably one of the contributing factors to my love of all things great and small, but always having something furry around probably helped. Growing up, we always had a cat, and sometimes a dog. It actually feels a little unnatural for me to not share a living space with a cat. The boy and I had talked about it, and we(he) decided that our apartment was too small to share, and that we(he really, really) didn't want to get a cat.(He begged me not to get one.)

But somehow, when I visited an old friend of the family, I wasn't expecting to walk away with a cat. This woman and her husband live on an old used car lot, where cats kind of collect over time. I've been going there since before I was born, and a large portion of my cats came from this place. My last cat, Pudge(born in a snowstorm, the last surviving member of her litter) came from here. There were a select few cats that were allowed in the house, and one of those was Duncan.

I vaguely remember Duncan from my childhood. She's dark gray, and ridiculously sweet. A little older, but super. So, when this dirty, skinny thing approached me as I was leaving, I couldn't reconcile that with the cat I remembered.She meowed at me in the most pathetic manner possible and waited. Well, if you're not feral, and I can pick you up, I'll take you home and find you a place to live. And sure enough, she let me pick her up. She pushed her forehead against the inside of my arm(which in cat language means "you make me feel safe"). How could I ignore the confidence of this cat? I loaded her up, and home we went.

When my boy came home, he was... displeased. I swore that she'd only be there for a few days, and look how sweet she is! But I promise I won't keep her... Giving a cat away is tough business. People want kittens, not older cats. People don't want to keep a cat on a deworming program for a week.

I lucked out about a week later. A fellow from the theatre had been looking for a cat(or, since he's new in town and super introverted, maybe just something to love). As soon as he picked Duncan up, I knew we were golden. I hope she's happy in her new home; He seemed like a cat-spoiler, which is what she deserves after the past year. She'll fatten up, get some good coat-building nutrients, and be a proper pampered puss-puss.

I'd like to think that James Herriot would smile at my efforts to save even one thing bright and beautiful. All pets deserve to be taken care of(humans made them, and we need to take care of them accordingly).

I pulled her out of a bad situation and found her a good home. And if I forgot to mention to her new owner that she only uses the litter box some of the time, who'd blame me?