Can't we all just get along?

You know it's hot when opening your window at midnight doesn't actually cool off your house at all.

I seem to vascillate between these deep/thoughtful posts on widowhood and "(my) life after (his) death" and posts about nothing.

And I think the first posts are more interesting... but also a bit of a downer.

And the posts about nothing are funny- sometimes. But can also, pretty easily, be boring as all get out.

I wish there was a way that I could make interesting posts that are also funny, but that's a mighty hard thing to do every day. And it all has to come from me. There are other people in my life, but I can't really tell their stories for them. That's not cool.

And believe it or not there are still some secrets that I don't tell, you, dear blog. Mainly because you are on the internet and anyone could read you. For example, I don't tell you who I have a secret crush on. (Darren Criss isn't a secret crush, I'm pretty up-front with that one.) But I also don't tell you the few things that I would be embarrassed about or that I don't want people's commentary on...

And you may have noticed a distinct lack of anything political gracing my blog... That's because, as Kara put it the other day, I'm one of the most "politically dull" people ever.

I don't actually like politics at all and I don't like people knowing where I stand on hot button issues. Why you ask?

Well, it's pretty simple.

You can insult people by having an opinion.

Oh no, it's true. I'm not making this stuff up.

I don't get insulted by people's opinions, but that doesn't mean that I agree with them. I will listen to someone talk all day about what they think, even if I don't agree with them at all.... as long as they don't know that I don't agree with them. Because as soon as they know where I stand they start trying to convince me or they try and engage me in a debate (aka arguement) about them. 1) I hate the hard sell, and 2) I find absolutely no enjoyment in a serious debate.

Now get me into a good debate on whether or not stuffed animals need eyes, and I'm allll over that. (You laugh, but my cousin Becca and I seriously argued about that for months. -I'm pro-eyes.) But no one takes that stuff seriously or personally, it's just being silly.

But if it's serious.. if it's an issue where there are real people involved? If it's an issue that really matters to someone? I absolutely 100% vehemently do not want to argue about it. It's too easy to stop hearing the other person and just think about what you believe. It's too easy to get up in arms, it's too easy to make the person who was your friend not 5 minutes ago into "one of them," and it's way way way too easy to make attacks personal, when you *feel* the matter personally.

So I don't share what I think... and yeah, I'm sure my biases come out in a multitude of  subtle ways, but if I can avoid being divisive, I will.

Cause that's the thing... if Dr. Who has taught me nothing, it's that we all have a lot more in common than we sometimes think.

A Jackal Story

I was downtown tonight. My friend Kara T. (Not to be confused with Kara G who I've been known to wax eloquent about on occasion.) wanted to go see Hunger Games. I wasn't that thrilled to do so, but I don't mind having at least a passing knowledge of this trend though I don't have any plans to actually read the books. My distaste for distopias is probably fodder for a different blog but suffice it to say, I really don't care for them. So a few hours at a movie is about all I can or want to handle to gain this knowledge.

But the important thing is that we went to the Hollywood Theatre downtown. *sigh* I really like downtown but it sure does bring out the worst in society and tell them to go ahead and just be themselves.

So we left the theater at midnight and our car was in a parking lot across the street.

I was wearing a black skirt and a gray t-shirt-like top. (Though I had a jogging jacket over it) I had on black wedges and my hair was in three buns at the nape of my neck. This was my outfit all day long. (Also I always wear shorts under a skirt unless the skirt is floor length, because it just makes me feel more at ease.)

So as we approached the corner of the street to get to the parking lot where our car was, some dude yelled out his window, "Hey, no prostitution!"

 I wanted to yell back, "Hey, no idiocy!"

I didn't.

What a Jackal. (Jackal is not the animal that starts with "jack" that I want to call him, but I'm a good girl, I am!)

It does make me feel better to think how bad he would feel if he could somehow emotionally connect to the fact that he just called a 28 year old widow a prostitute because she happened to be crossing a street with a skirt and heels on.

I don't have much respect for him, but I have to believe that somewhere under that jerky exterior is a boy who his mother loves... who probably has a sensitive side and loves his dog... or will love his kids... or was bullied in school. He yelled to prove to his girlfriend that he wasn't checking me out, or to show off to his buddies, or because he has the worst sense of humor in the world. He forgot that the person he was yelling at was a human being, because we are all so wrapped up in the drama of our own life we forget that just because we don't know them doesn't mean they aren't flesh and blood... 

But we are. If I could have I would have yelled, "Hey! I was a virgin on my wedding day. I stood by my husband's side through 16 months of cancer. I took care of him through much of it. I live in a world without him there every. single. day. I don't deserve your cruelty." And I kinda hope that someday God lets the jackal know who he was yelling at.

But that's up to God, not me.

And so, after my little venting blog, I'll forgive him. That kind of bitterness will only serve to hurt me... it's possible he has already forgotten.

*sigh* Turning the other cheek is not easy to do.

I forgot to title this post

So I wrote this long post about my biggest pet peeve, and now I have taken it away and saved it in my e-mail. Why, you ask? Cause the very subject of pet peeves dwells a lot more in the negative than I really want to. Suffice it to say this: Can't we all just get along? I don't like combativeness. I don't enjoy an argument for the sake of an argument and I'd rather view everyone in the world as my friend rather than someone I need to defend against. There ya go... a complete paraphrasing of my late post.

For those of you concerned I think I did very badly at not being shy. I felt like a socially awkward mumbling fool.  Nathan says I am paranoid and he thought I handled myself well, and he was proud of me... What a difference it makes being inside my skin!

I bought a lemon bar mix from the store. I plan on making it, but adding lemon extract to make it more lemon-y....I've made them before and my only complaint is that they are a little too sweet... I like a kick! I have no idea why, but this summer I have developed a *deep* and apparently abiding love for lemon bars. Not lemon anything else. You can keep the ade, cake, muffins, icing, whatever, just give me all the lemon bars and we will be fine. The thing I love about the box mix of lemon bars is that it is small. Diabetics don't really need a lot of baked goods lying about, so this way there isn't a 9x13 pan of brownies that have to get eaten up before they get stale/crunchy. Sometimes I quite miss living with my father, aka the baked good vacuum. Though I suppose even before this foray into diabetes land Nathan never could eat 4/5 of a pan of brownies in a day and a half like Daddy. Oh well, he has other good points. ;)

Seriously I hate the word vacuum. It's just wrong that there are 2 u's in it. It goes against every phonetical tenet there is. Plus we always called it a "sweeper" growing up, so I have a latent distrust of the word anyway.