Let Love Rule

Fresh off the presses this morning. Supreme Court Badass Ruth Bader Ginsberg and 4 others with brains in their heads approved same sex marriage in the United States.

I know some of you are going to disagree with me, and that's fine, but it's my blog so I'll say it:


I'm sure that there are heads exploding all over the country because how in the hell could someone with a vagina not love someone with a penis and vice versa, but you know what?  Let 'em explode.  I'm also sure that in the coming days, the news will be filled with stories about people who feel like being a giant bag of dicks and refusing services to gay couples who would like a cake or a DJ at their wedding from people who have no issue providing that same service to a straight couple.  If that's the case, I hope those businesses are spotlighted so people can easily spot the jackass and avoid them.  

Ain't nobody got time for that. 

Next Friday, Adam and I will bear witness to a beautiful ceremony for 2 friends that until now, would have only been recognized by their friends, family and 37 states who weren't living in the stone ages.  Now, because of this most amazing ruling, the celebration will be even sweeter.  We can't wait to be a part of it. 

So.  While I'm likely going to avoid the interwebs for the remainder of the day because I simply will not be able to deal with the sheer assholery that some will vehemently spew in every direction because those some can not argue their point of view like a civil human being, I will leave you with this:

Love is for Everyone

Love Rules

Love Always Wins


Hello....is it me you're looking for???


.....anyone still here?  Anyone still hanging out and hitting F5 like mad, hoping that I'll pop in?  Bueller?  Bueller...

Ok. I know. I KNOW.  I said I wouldn't do it and I did it and now I'm back here hoping that no one noticed I have been gone for almost 2 months.  If you did, can we just put it aside?  Can we not mention it again and I promise I won't leave you because I love you and I don't want to see you sad?  Can we do that?  Because that would be awesome.

You guys are the best.

Again, just because I've been gone doesn't mean that I don't love you anymore.  I mean, I told you about that other blog I was doing for school, right?  Ok, so forget I told you about that, because I'm taking it down.  While going through this whole school thing, I've realized that reading academic blogs if you're not forced to (like I currently am) is not necessarily the first thing people want to do when they open the interwebs.  I did the thing, I got the grade, I'm moving on.  Let's be honest, I'm having a hard enough time keeping this place afloat.  I'm not going to bore you with research articles on Gender and Sexuality Studies - which, I promise you is not as exciting as it sounds.  If you're thinking "but it has SEX in the title!!" just slow down there, Tonto.  It's not quite like that.

So what have I been doing while I've been not here?  Uh.  Um.  Ummmmmmm.

Ok. Fine. I've been cheating on you with another blog and a bunch of other women.  (Calm down, people!! That last part is not as exciting as it sounds either!)   If you like reading smart things from smart women, I urge you to check out Vivid & Brave.  Somehow, I've fooled them into thinking I belong there with the cool kids, so they're letting me hang out for a few months. Score!!

What else has happened?  Not much. It's finally summer in the mitten, as evidenced by a string of 75 degree days 2 weeks ago.  Of course, it was 55 this past weekend up north, but it's Michigan. Give us another week and it'll be 90. Then, 55 again and it'll snow in about a month.  Can anyone explain why we live here, again?

So that's it.  A lame post begging for your forgiveness and sending you to another blog that I will be posting for at least twice a month.  You know what?  Because I love you, I promise that I'll be here at least as much.  Pinky swear.

It's the least I can do now that I've given you an earworm for the rest of the day...


Done, Done, Onto the Next One...

I'm not sure who snuck onto this blog at the beginning of the semester and had a huge meltdown about what the future held.  That person obviously didn't understand that like everything else, if you put the work into it and not worry about what you don't know, things may just go your way. 

THIS chick, yours truly, who would never have a meltdown over stupid things (shut up), read that just like the rest of you. Laughed, and wished that person luck.  Because it was obvious that she needed it. 

Turns out, she didn't. 

Grades were posted this morning for the first semester:  4.0 baby. 

I'm not even going to pretend that I knew it mid-semester.  Hipster turned out to be my worst nightmare when it came to understanding what he wanted from us. He rarely answered emails when we had questions, and out of 20 people, there were always 10 different recollections of what the assignment was.  The syllabus was abandoned halfway through the semester and the final was a presentation on an article that no one knew how to apply to modern times, but I found my way though.  While it wasn't brain surgery, and I'm far from the first person to work and go to school, I have to say I'm proud.

I'm in no way going to rest on my laurels and think that it's easy street from here on out.  I am, however, going to gloat for a few minutes because all of those tears were for naught. 

And I'll publicly say it: 

My husband was right:  I got this.

(did you see that, babe?  Read it again, because you know you don't hear it often. Hee. By the way, giving credit where it's due, thank you for you. I got this because of you.)

Onward.  6 credits down. Only 114 more to go.  2 classes this spring, July & August off, back in September.  Slowly but surely.

So, thanks to all of you for the support.  I can't promise a 4.0 every semester (because: math, eventually), I can hope that I'll still be able to swing something good. 

And maybe graduate before I'm eligible for Social Security. 



As you walk on by...

So...hey....and all that stuff.  I know, I started school, I got fed up with the world and then I disappeared.  It's not intentional. I've just been plugging along and writing for my classes, which I'm beginning to think that these profs are in cahoots.  In the past week, I've written close to a dozen pages in essays between the two, and I have about 25 more between them to get through before the semester is up in the middle of April.

Write write write.

On top of that, my handsome husband gifted me 2 beautifully bound journals for my birthday earlier this month, and I have a million things I'm jotting down there as well.  Someone said "that's it? That's all he got for you for your birthday?"  Uh. YEAH. The dude knows the way to my heart isn't through jewelry. It's blank pages with endless possibilities.  Ok, and maybe a pretty, sparkly thing from time to time, but seriously.  Between those journals and a gift from a dear friend at Christmas, I've plenty of places to put my thoughts as of late.  Just not here, obviously.  Oops.

Regarding school; if you'll allow me to brag for a hot second, I'm doing well so far with mid-term grades at 96% and 117%.  Don't ask me how we get above 100%, but I'm not going to argue either.  So, I think I'm handling this college thing fine.  Of course, these are English and Lit courses, which I love, so I'm under no delusion that I'll be skating through the next 15 years before I graduate.  Absolutely not.  In fact, look for me to be hiding under my desk, wailing when it's time to tackle my math completion.

117% accurate

For now, however, I will take what I can get in the way of a nice grade for the semester and move on.  I can register next week for my summer and fall classes, and if all goes well, I could potentially have 18 credits for my first calendar year of college.  

Maybe this won't take me forever?  Hmmmm.  

In any event, I just wanted to appear so you wouldn't forget about me and to let you know that I've started a second blog.  Not to cheat on you, lovies, but because I had to.  It's actually an assignment for my English class, but I figured once the semester is over I'll likely keep it up so I can have all of my essays and creative writing stuffs (once I get to actually focus on my minor) in one place.  

Feel free to stop by if you want to see me pretend I'm smart and say things like "it's a complete subjugation of an independent spirit" and then wonder who said those things when the Professor points out what an insightful observation that was.  (True story. That phrase was used as an "excellent example of descriptive writing" in my LIT class and it took me about 15 minutes to realize he was talking about me.)

One thing about that blog though:  at this point, it's for looking only.  Until I can figure out what my Professor is looking for, and if comments from the outside world are welcome, please refrain from posting there for now.  

It will be open for comments after the semester, however, and I'll welcome your words with open arms. For now though, look but don't type.  All bets are off after April 20.  I'm fair game. 

Of course, feel free to leave adoration or criticism (but mostly adoration because, really:  me) here. This blog is never closed for comments.  


The one where I likely piss everyone off.

There are days I just want the world to shut up.

I don't want to hear about people in the media who lie. Hell, half the time I don't want to hear the media, period.  They're more problem than solution on most occasions.  Oh, and that goes farther than Brian Williams making up a story.  I'm looking at you, entire Fox News Network.

I don't want to hear Kanye running his mouth about anything because he's not an authority on anything but being an ass hole.

I don't want to hear about a Kardashian or anyone else who is "famous" for doing nothing but creating drama and spending tons of money on just being a ridiculous person.  As an aside, we shouldn't even know what a Kardashian, or a Snookie or any one of those "famous" people are.  Be a great actor, find a cure for cancer, write a fantastic book.  Do something great and stop trotting around the world with your tits out and "accidentally" release a sex tape because you're so damned insecure about being insignificant that you force your uninteresting self upon the rest of the world.  Oh, and world?  This goes for 99.9% of the "reality" TV out there.  Watch it for your own entertainment.  No one is saying you have to quit, universe knows I have a few guilty pleasures, but can we stop acting like these people are actually living in 100% reality?  The only reality they're living is one where the cameras edit everything but the drama and fluff.

I don't care what the talking heads on the morning chat circuit have to say about whatever the hell "current event" they manage to blabber on about for an hour every day, and "experts" who feel they need to add to the noise by falling over themselves to deliver the first report on whatever they feel is news.

I could not care less that a shitty movie based off of a shitty book is everywhere this weekend, and that people think it's romantic when it's essentially a study in abuse.  It will make more this weekend than I believe most small countries budget for education in a year.

I don't care whether Madonna showed up at the Grammy awards looking like something that should pop out of a kid's jack in the box or if Uma Thurman wore no makeup.  Why is this important? Why do we care?

I especially don't want to hear about the sheer assholery of the Governor of Kansas, or this jackass from Illinois. Not because they're not actual news stories, but I just get tired of banging my head against the desk and screaming what in the actual fuck?!

I understand that resolving my dilemma is a fairly easy one.  "But Tonya," you say, "just don't pay attention.  Oh, and by the way, aren't you actually contributing to all of the noise you're so vehemently opposing in this very post?"

The answer to the first is that we all need information. It's the part where we're forced to shift through the shit to find the basics of what you actually need to know is utterly overwhelming.  When you do find what you need to know, you have to dig deeper to see if someone is feeding you more shit or if the shit you've found that you need is actually what you need.

The answer to the second is yes.  However, it's unlikely anyone but the 4 people loyal to this blog are going to even bother, so I'm a small blip on the radar at this point.

There are days I want to go back to when we only got our information from newspapers and the nightly news on TV and our gossip from Mrs. Kravitz (look it up, kids).  Yes.  The internet is an awesome thing. It connects, it entertains, it helps people make a difference.  But the background noise gets to be ridiculous, and those are the days I just want to make the world quiet down.  Even if it's only for an hour.

Don't tell me that the idea isn't delicious...


Thoughts from a 40 year old freshman: The first week

You guys.  I did it!!  I actually did it.  I finished my first week of college, and you know what? I came out relatively unscathed.  I drank a bottle of wine last night to celebrate this accomplishment.  I need  14 more bottles to get me through the semester.

Hey, everyone should have a goal, right?

On Monday afternoon, I left work with a hug and well wishes from my boss and drove out to campus for my first class:  English 121.  I left super early because I couldn't focus on anything anyway, and I wasn't sure where I was going to park given I hadn't had time to go secure a parking pass.  So I arrived outside of the building approximately 55 minutes prior to when I needed to be there and scored a metered spot right outside of the door.

I spent the next 20 minutes talking to my husband while watching the infants students wander between buildings wearing nothing but leggings and sweatshirts in 10 degree weather.

Yes.  Yes. Yes.  A million times:  YES

After poking fun, Adam politely reminded me that I should probably drop the "get off my lawn" mentality and get into the building so I wasn't late after arriving 55 minutes early.  I agreed, got out of the car (bundled up in a scarf, mittens, hat and ski jacket for my 10 step walk to the front door) and headed in.  I found my way to the 4th floor and waited for the class ahead to disburse.  When it did, I headed in with the other infants students and waited for the professor to arrive.  

After I walked in, I caught a few surprised looks that I chose a student chair and didn't head up to the front of the class. Especially after the instructor walked in.  

My man can't be more than 30.  

Deep breath.  

So Professor walks up to the front of the room in red jeans and black converse shoes and American Eagle fitted tee and his infinity scarf and introduces himself while I glance at the rest of the class and realize that I could be every one of their mothers.  We then do a writing exercise/introduction thing.  After we've written our answers, we read them aloud.  The question was "What gives you anxiety about your writing."

99% of the class answers:  "spelling is horrid", "I tend to use run on sentences", "my thought process isn't always clear" and so on.  
I answer:  "I typically don't have anxiety about my writing. I understand that some will like it and others may not, but that's fine".

99% of the class thinks:  "wow, this chick is not only old, but she's cocky"
Professor smirks.  I'm not sure what this means.  

Deep breath. 

We continue on with the syllabus and we were out in about 40 minutes. I drive over to the bookstore to pick up my textbook and buy a tee shirt so I'm officially official and then set about on the drive home.  Where I had time to think about everything and completely freak the fuck out so by the time I arrive at home, I'm in the middle of a slight panic attack,  By slight, I mean full on tears.  

I get to the back door and am greeted by my husband, who is so proud and all smiles. "Hi College!!" is how he greets me, eager to hear about the class since I was acting like a normal human being not 25 minutes earlier when I called to let him know I was on the road.  

Ha.  Fooled him.  

I, in turn, throw myself into his arms and cry for 5 minutes gasping out things like "entire syllabuses" and "25 pages of essays between 2 classes by April!" and "peer review and they're all children and...and...what am I doing, this is going to take me a dozen years and I'm worried about not having my time next Christmas when I should be leaving work to come home and do what I need to do and not have to worry about school..."  you know, the usual way I approach things.  Big picture that completely overwhelms.  

You're laughing.  Is that not normal?

My motto, ladies and gentlemen...

So, St. Husband puts his arms around me and is likely rolling his eyes behind my back for 5 minutes before he pulls me away from him, looks at his watch and says: "You have 1 hour. You can use this hour to do whatever you want in the way of freaking out. You can cry, you can talk to me, you can sulk, you can sit quietly, you can do whatever you want. However, at exactly 8:01 you are going to tell me what your plan is.Are you bailing and this isn't for you? That's fine. Are you going to slow down and take it piece by piece and continue on for the next however many years it's going to take? That's fine too. The choice is yours and I will love you either way. Just know that we're not doing this every week, so figure it out now."

It's like this guy has been with me for 20 years or something. Weird.

For the next hour, I cried, I talked, I cried some more. The dog looked at me like "why is your face leaking, mom?". I did dishes, I thought.  At 8:01, I logged into my LIT class, posted my introduction and read the first chapter.

We have liftoff.

My classes are Monday and Wednesday, so I went back yesterday and all was fine both in person and online.  Actually, that's a lie.  I had to submit a short essay and I think I knocked it out of the park.  Let's hope that Professor thinks the same.

14 weeks left for this semester and then I'll only be 114 credits away from graduation!!!  (I'm trying to not worry about the math class that's going to stand between me and a diploma. That's another story for another day so we're not even going to discuss it right now.  Right?  RIGHT?)


A Public Service Message from the Handbasket...

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming, provided that it doesn't involve a Kardashian.