M.I.A.

Dear Dell Rainman-

Initially so upset that I was unable to best articulate myself I felt it best to send my sentiment in a heartfelt, albeit open, letter.

Fuck You.

I know that it's difficult to diagnose computer issues over the phone- I believe my opening statement was, "I know it's difficult to diagnose computer issues over the phone, but..."
I also know that you know more than I know about knowing what is wrong with computers.
I also know my 'backside' from a 'battery' but that doesn't seem to compute in your Star Trek centered cerebellum.

So, let me try and explain this in language you may be able to understand.

Due to the curse of a Dell- there is no one no one willing to operate my laptop. All the parts would have to be ordered and/or sent to the Dell hub (aka- Nashville). However- thanks to the miracle to NorthPark Mall, the only Dell store in the world will look at my junk for mere $69.00. I am underwhelmed with excitement by this. Flaccid with joy, if you will.
When I explain that my AC adapter doesn't connect to my battery- thereby not charging it- that does not NOT translate to, "your motherboard may need to be replaced for $500." It is inappropriate for that to be the first thing you tell me. It may be inappropriate for you to say that- EVER!
Again- I know that I do not speak as softly as Princess Leia but I need you to listen when I tell you that the computer is fine- we just have a charging issue.

I appreciate your time and I hope that the future does find you enjoying that turkey sandwich for lunch while you watch Wapner.
I will see you tomorrow when I bring my 'system' in for the 'diagnostic analysis.'
I will remain composed when I drop off my life's electronic treasures and all the music that makes my lifetime soundtrack. I will be calm. . .
I will be calm when I tell you that, "if I come back and I need a new 'motherboard' I will promptly shove my antiquated 20 pound laptop down your throat and suffer the consequences."

Lastly- if you spit while talking as much as think you do based our phone chat- I will charge you a cleaning fee.
Stay strong,

M.I.A.

No- it's not the latest in house or trance music. It's real and it is present as I type this rant to you, my faithfull readers- both of you!

When in the course of astrological events our wing footed messenger, the planetary representation- Mercury, goes 'retrograde' appointments, travel, and communication in general are interrupted. Mercury will be back in direct rotation March 8th.
This is why my laptop has gone on strike with a 'fuck you- I'm not gonna charge.'
This is why my car has has a cracked do-hickey and may explode at any moment. Not really- it's just an unfortunate and poorly timed leak.
This is why I had to push 'send' 26 times on that email and it would not send- yet I managed to have 27 copies in the 'out' box. There is a bonus 'send' for thinking bad thoughts.
This is why my blog was frozen yesterday marked as a 'spam blog'. I promptly told them I am vegetarian.

(Now, there is a whole thing about this retrograde being in Pisces that throws an additional kink in things)

Now- for those that do not consult their cards, tea leaves, or stars for greater guidence- laugh on. The rest of us will tread lightly while you fumble. You've been warned!

I knew what I was doing when I did it- I guess that's all that really matters!

Everyday I face the disgruntled 'security' workers. There is something truly damning about being hired to do a job and then being subjected to an x-ray machine and a nasty look you will assuredly get when you beep your way through the threshold. While I understand- only because they like to yell it to you- that they "gotta jahb tuh do here-a, OK?!?" I find no reason for the only thing security does a good job of is making everyone feel bad. I am not the source of your contention. I am a worker for the man just like you and I would rather we try and create a solidarity instead of an adversity.

Until today.
This crazy white girl has had enough of it! ALL OF IT!
-the dirty look that I get when I bring my travel mug in. Screw you- I gotta caffeinate, I'm runnin' on 4 hours of sleep!
-the ugly tone that is barked from the other side of a machine wanting to know if I work here because "you ain't supposed to have (insert something benign here), OK?!?" I respond with an eye-roll, followed with a sigh, and then mumble 'whatever' under my breath upon exit.
-the loud: UGLY LOUD, beeeeep that comes from waiving the 'wand' over me to make absolute certain that I'm not sneaking a fork into the building in my shoe OR that my 'silver' jewelry is silver. Don't try coming into this joint with an especially supportive bra OR an IUD!

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!

Today I get stopped after my purse goes through the all-knowing all-seeing 'Oz' machine.
Jackass in a black blazer: "uh, miss"
m.i.a.: blank stare towards voice
black blazer: "uh, miss- you have something in your purse"
m.i.a.: "yep, I have several things"
*chuckle from the guy behind me
black blazer: "well, I think you have either tweezers or something metal"
m.i.a.: "yep" picks up purse to leave....
black blazer: "uh- miss, you're going to have to take that outside beca...."
m.i.a.: "NO I'M NOT- this? THIS?" pulls out weapon in dramatic fashion "THIS IS AN EYELASH CURLER- not dubya ihm dee!"
black blazer: " uh. . . "

I then go turning in a most dramatic blur and with determination I make my way towards the foyer to clock in. Yes- all this before I am even on the man's dime!
I then ran into a large Sheriff's officer- nearly spilling my coffee.

I did it- I brought the eyelash curler today- and I'll do it again!

I am attending a local conference on family violence. I appreciate the opportunity to go. Connecting with fellow advocates, getting up to date on laws, being out of the office. . .
We get new information on stalking techniques ("I only break into your apartment because I love you") and battering loopholes ("I send you flowers because I don't want you to talk to the state's attorney anymore."). We get inspired, grossed out, and celebrated.
This conference is organized, sponsored by, and benefits a local shelter. This shelter, one of several in the bustling crime capital, is a full service domestic violence agency. They provide shelter, counseling for victims and batterers, as well as advocacy to provide safety planning for victims.
They raffled a gun at the conference. A 9mm Smith & Wesson.
I truly hope the irony is not lost on me.

Coming home I walk in and (one of) the cats scares me- taking off towards the bedroom. Usually they're not that jumpy. I immediately notice that somethings different. I leave the light on over the door- it is off.
There is another light on- it's the track lighting in the dining room. Something is definitely amiss!
Shutting the door, not locking it, keeping my keys out, reaching for my cell phone- I enter.

There it is!
The righting- literally- on the wall.
With a red dry erase marker there is Valentine message of love on the mirror---
that damn near made me call 911!
I pick up the phone and call my beloved time-honored friend. Crying in relief and because of the beautiful words left in love. I then promptly tell her that, "I JUST GOT HOME FROM A FUCKIN' STALKING SEMINAR- DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!" . . . "and I love you very much."I then locked my door relaxed a bit and wallowed in the irony and gerber daisies!

It never seems to sit well with me and I've made amends with myself that it doesn't have to.

Anytime the conversation of children manages to come up in public I find that my views are quickly quelled with a tilted head and condescending tone of, "Oh, you'll change your mind" or, "Oh, you just haven't met the right man." While both of those are possibilities- I promptly want to ask that tilted head I-know-better-than-you-tone person promptly blow it out their ass!

I do not want to birth any babies from my body. Not today, not yesterday, and I see the possibility in the future rather slim. Now, and don't stop me if you've already heard it from me, I have yet to meet a man man-enough to make me want to have babies. That being said- I may change my mind- I have one so it could happen! I would like to see myself maybe as a foster-parent when I'm ready to have a more consistent lifestyle- I don't really know.

So why is the default TO have kids.
Why don't we shame would-be mothers when they lament their fantasy about the joys (forgetting the woes) of care giving coupled with the boundless gratitude of children.
When a young woman says that she wants to have children- where is the condescending "oh, you just haven't gotten to know that loser you're dating" OR "Really, aren't you a little young and co-dependent to be making such a big commitment?" No, no- none of that. Instead we encourage this journey of self-sacrifice and offer tips on loosing the 'baby-fat' after you just birthed a body from your own. While all that's good and this is no attempt at alienating my sisters with little units- this is a cry for equity.

This is my stand on shirking the shame of choosing to remain child free.
There is nothing wrong with not wanting a baby now... or possibly ever.
There is no pity to be had over seeing an aged future of myself without adult children--- there is however plenty responsibility in knowing that having them too soon (or sometimes at all) means that you screwed someones life up because you gave in to the default of procreation pressure!

Do not tell me I will change my mind- I know I will. On many things, maybe even this (although I seriously doubt it). I am not the freak show for forgoing the child course. I am- no matter what my shrink tells you, the healthy option in people that are only having children because they truly want to parent.
The next time you hear that someone doesn't want children- praise them. Let them know that is a brave, often times uncommon decision that is worth serious consideration. Maybe they can't have kids, maybe they are too selfish and they recognize that.
The next time you hear that someone does want to have children- question them. Ask them if they have given enough consideration to what kind of responsibility that is and is their relationship (if they're in one) substantive enough? Tip- if you can't decide on where to eat dinner, productively raising a child will be a challenge.

I would spend this last paragraph gushing about how much I really do value children- but I don't have to. My stand on not being pressured into making any is testament enough.