Life In Monkeyland

I miss you Mrs. Fitzimmons

2012-01-25T19:25:00.001-08:00

If you’ve met my girls, there is no doubting where they came from. I couldn’t deny them if I tried. If you’ve met the rest of my family, you may wonder about me though. All the people that I take after have passed away. One of the most important ones, my grandma Katie, would have been 95 today.

Not a day goes by where I don’t miss her.

My gram was not like most grandmas. Yes she embroidered and crocheted and made the best soup ever. Her Matzoh Ball soup was my absolute favorite. But, she could also drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney and cuss like a sailor. Well, to be more accurate, she had made sailors blush.

My grandpa died young, but she always wore her wedding rings. In fact, my engagement ring was a replica of hers. If you tried to tease her about needing a man, she’d say she had one. If you said “one that’s still alive” she’d say “What the Hell for? So he can sit on my couch and make me fetch him beer? No thank you. I need another man like I need another goddamn hole in my head.”

When my dad was big and scary, she told him to go to Hell. When he told her not to use the “f word” around him, she told him to fuck off. When the world told her she needed to stop working at 65, she lied her ass off and got a job. When my parents told her there was an e on the end of my name, she told them no. Katie was feisty as Hell.

And, as I predicted for years, when God told her it was time to go, she cussed his ass out all day long before she went.

She was the only grandparent I’d ever known and the only strong female role model that was consistently in my life. In middle school I used to miss the bus on purpose so I could walk to her house and wait for my dad. He would be mad, but I got to hear story after story of her life from raising my mom and aunts and uncles to riding to work on the back of a Harley. Getting screamed at was so worth it.

She was the one that taught me not to take shit from anyone and that I could be and do whatever I wanted as long as I put my mind to it and “you don’t have to use your tits to do it either, you’re a smart one, you use your brain.” This is the same woman that set her mind on teaching her bird to hate Frank Sinatra and by George every time ole blue eyes came on, her bird Louie would BITCH up a storm. If you were to tell me she had a fling with Frank that went bad and that’s why she hated him, I would not be shocked at all. My grandma was a Hell of a woman.

I have a million grandma stories I will eventually find the strength to write, but for now, I’m easing into it. Her death is a wound that’s never really scabbed over. I look at my daughters and know how much she would love the Hell out of them. They’d come home dropping four letter words like crazy and hopped up on Brach’s candy, but I wouldn’t care.

It’s time for me to make my annual Brandy Old Fashioned Sweet (her drink of choice the last couple of decades of her life) and toast her. I will leave you with this…

When I moved out to California, I would call her once a week to check in. She’d ask how I was and I’d tell her the soup sucked. One time I called and she sounded kind of funky so I asked “Grandma, is that you?” True to form, her reply was “No, it’s Mrs. Fitzimmons, who the fuck else would be answering my phone?” From that point on, I would call and ask for Mrs. Fitzimmons and she’d laugh and say “This is Mrs. Fitzimmons, how’s my favorite little smart shit doing?”

I miss you Mrs. Fitzimmons.

That beauty in pink with the glasses is my Katie. The woman to her left is my mom. The woman below looking ready to knock my Uncle Gene the Hell out? Yup, my Katie. That gorgeous red afro belongs to my ever-amazing Aunt Carol. She’s the one from my #BoobieWed post. The two of them together would make the perfect woman.

Every Day Is A Re-Do

2012-01-25T07:45:00.000-08:00

My doctor called me while I was just done dropping the girls off this morning. I’d already made the decision that I NEED to make time to write down our conversations. Especially the silly ones. This morning’s was fun. As a geek mom, I have the ability to chronicle their lives for them in a way generations before me couldn’t. I can assemble an entire book with photos and captions, a book of them. They can keep this book and pull it out and read it to their children one day. I have made myself a promise that, no matter what, I am going to do this. I have to.

None of us know how long we will be here. I have great plans and decades to spend with my girls in my mind and heart. But, it’s not solely up to me. So, doc informed me that I have the most stubborn white blood cells and cervix she’s ever seen. The fact that I am abnormal is not a shock, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that this was the one time in my life I wish I was called normal. The cells bother her, the cervix we suspected and it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s back. But, it does mean I get a hot date with a LEEP and sadly she said they just can’t LEEP away my entire cervix. One of these days it’ll buy me dinner first damnit.

I’m at a different place this time around, a different mind set. While I’ve always had the “let’s do this! Let’s fight back!” attitude, I was getting weary. Balancing everything was a trick before, now it’s flat-out draining. This past summer when I made the decision to go back to work full time, rather than freelance, I picked a place that was very unlike me. Yet, it fit perfectly. It’s a seasonal company. Meaning, I get laid off over the next few weeks. A lay of with pay enough to get me through it and time to take a step back and revamp. A much needed breather. A chance for a re-birth.

And I plan on taking advantage of every moment of it. I’ve revamped our eating habits and begun training for the Dirty Girl Run. I’ve begun to reorganize our house, though you probably can’t tell looking at it right this moment. The girls and I have settled in to the new schedule so far, but this is just week one of it. Now, it’s back to the things that matter. Refocusing on the dream and making it happen this year- cancer or no cancer.

Another upside of all of this was that it allotted (read: forced) me to take a step back and look at everything and everyone in my life. To boil things down to what is most important. To come to terms with what I may truly mean to some and them to me. To take stock and make an effort to mend some that may have needed mending and deal with whether it was reciprocated or not. You know how you know when someone is a real friend? It could be hours, days, weeks, years since you’ve sat down and really talked, yet a beat is never missed and that love is still there and even if they don’t have time at the moment, you can tell they are happy as Hell to hear from you.

And I’ve learned that if you completely fuck it all up, there is tomorrow.

Every single day we all get a re-do.

P.S. So today’s conversations on the way to school…..

Lilest: “GIVE US MATH PROBLEMS!!”
Eldest: “YEAH MOMMY!!! MATH PROBLEMS!”
Both: (chanting) “MATH PROBLEMS! MATH PROBLEMS!”

They are such nerds! Now, coming up for math problems for a 6 and 7 year old while driving may sound like a piece of cake. My girls don’t deal with “what’s 3 + 7?” Nope, they want WORD problems. Which means that I have to keep track of my own problem while I’m making it up. Possibly on a lack of coffee. While driving through a town that I swear has the worst drivers ever.

Me: “Okay, Hailey first… if there are 3 houses on the right side and 4 houses on the left side, how many houses are on the block?”
Lilest: “Duh, that’s 7. MAKE THEM HARDER!!”
Me: “Okie Dokie. If there are 14 houses on this block and 7 are on the right side, how many are on the left?’
Lilest: “SEVEN!”
Eldest: “SEVEN! HEY! IT WAS MY TURN YOU BIG DOOFUS!”
Me: “NOT OKAY!!!”
Eldest: “You gotta take turns cuz I know more stuff than she does, I get harder ones.”
Me: “Okay, (insert eldest’s name here) there are 12 houses on the next block, all with 2 windows. How many windows are on the block?”
Eldest: “Good one! Let me think!”
Lilest: “That’s a multiplication problem.”  Eldest: “I KNOW!!”

Eldest got it right. In fact they both got all of theirs right. Lilest’s next one was “If mommy drinks one cup of coffee every hour and I spend 3 hours at Starbucks, how many cups of coffee will I have drank?” And Eldest got the last one with “If we got to AJ Bombers for dinner and they have a big special going where hamburgers cost $1.00 and sweet potato chips are $0.50 how much would it cost all together if we each got one hamburger and one order of sweet potato chips?”

I love that they love to learn. I love that they are a bit competitive in that department. I love that we take the time to actually spend time together in the car on the way to and from, well anywhere together. But, especially to school. We both need that love in the morning.

I Stand In Blackness

2012-01-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

For more information visit : SOPAStrike,com

South to Drop Off, North to Pick Up

2011-11-04T06:01:00.000-07:00

I have seen all that is wrong with this world and it drives a Mercedes SUV. Okay, that may be a bit overdramatic and I do not have a vendetta against everyone who drives a Mercedes SUV. You know what, screw the disclaimer, you’ll get what I mean. :)

Both monkeys are in school now. I love their school. I really do. The town it’s in leaves a lot to be desired. But, the school itself is awesome and it gives me hope. It’s a public school. On one of its walls is a sign “If a child can’t learn the way we teach, maybe we should teach the way they learn.- Ignacio Astrada” And so far they have followed it. That, my friends, is what gives me hope. But, that’s a whole other post.

It’s a relatively small elementary school and has a very small parking lot. For years now, the drop off and pick up are the same. To avoid blocking school buses and traffic on the road in front of it, you line up and snake around the rows. It’s a very, very simple process that makes a great deal of sense once you learn it.

Now, logical thing for a new person to do is pull straight in and right up to the front. They wouldn’t have noticed all the cars wrapped around and so I’m sure initially it is not meant to skip everyone in line. I give the benefit of the doubt for new faces. Always. There is, however, no mistaking the “oh shit” moment. When your “whoo hoo no wait!” moment passes and you realize all of the other cars are there and you just skipped them all. Again, people react differently when embarrassed and such, so if they don’t give the gratuitous ‘Aww snap, I’m sorry” wave and look of shame, no biggie. All I ask is that the lesson be learned.

I guess for some that is just way too much to ask. And THAT, my dears is why all that is wrong with this world drives a Mercedes SUV.

Monday morning she came whipping up just as I was at the front of the line. Didn’t even bother to look. She gets waived in to pull up, then I do. Life goes on.
Tuesday morning, the same thing. I’m at the front of the line and up comes whipping Ms. SUV. Okay. Hmmm… so, I get out when I park to unleash monkeys onto the school. I politely walk over to her, extend a hand and say “Hi! I’m Natali, (fill in monkey’s names) mom and lead room mom for (fill in monkeys’ teachers names).” No handshake. Just blank annoyed stare. I continue. “Okay, well, I know that pick up and drop off can be somewhat confusing here at (insert monkeys’ school name) for new parents so I thought I would…” She cuts me off “I’m not new. And you’re making me late, what is your point?” Me “Wow, well okay, I don’t want to make you late. I just wanted to politely inform err I guess remind you of the proper drop off and pick up procedure here.” She literally turns, gets in her vehicle and off she goes.

My eye twitched and I swear I heard the music played when the Wicked Witch, (or in the event my girls grow up and read this, the “Misunderstood Witch”) from the Wizard of Oz hops on her broomstick and flies off. Dee dee dee dee dee dee. Dee dee dee dee dee dee. Dee deeeee!

Wednesday morning, I get us out the door 5 minutes earlier hoping to just avoid the situation. Guess what happens? Yup. Just as I get to the front, up whips Ms. Mercedes. I throw my hands up in a “WTF?!” way. She turns and smirks. * eye twitch * I smile and wave. Yup, I smiled and waved. Bigger person. Deep breaths. More flies with honey. She continues to smirk as she pulls ahead of me and unloads her offspring. I open my window and say “Nice to see you again! Have a great day!” Inside though, the well of profanity can barely wait for me to shut my window and make it off of school property.

Now, I feel compelled to mention that there is a rotation of teachers out front in the morning and each day it was new ones so they really didn’t realize she wasn’t someone who was dropping off for the first time and just didn’t learn the process yet.

Thursday morning, off we go. I take a deep breath as pull up to the front of the wrap around. I look to the entrance to the parking lot and don’t see her. HUGE sigh of relief. The car on deck goes… I take my foot off the brake and just begin to move forward when in she comes- BARRELING toward us. I have to slam on the brakes.

NOW I’VE DONE HAD ENOUGH.

She unleashes the smirk. I raise the “Oh, this is how it’s gonna be biotch!?” eyebrow.

She pulls up and parks. I pull up and get out. Again. Deep breath, smile on face. Sugary sweet tone in voice. With just a hint of sarcasm. “Hiiiiiii. It’s me again. I didn’t catch your name the other day.” *BLANK STARE* “Anywho, I know that the whole concept of wrapping around in rows (*hand signals all kinds of stewardess-like indicating the proper flow of traffic*) can be REALLY difficult for some people to grasp. Driving is hard. But, I would be more than happy to make a little video for you demonstrating how not to drive like a maniac and endanger the youth at this elementary school. Especially my lovely daughters. Wave to the nice lady girls!” The girls wave. And, clearly my daughters, both at the same time say “Hiiii” the same way I did and “You have to wrap around. You can’t just skip ahead.” Me: “Oh look at that- a 5 and 7 year old get the concept. Kids these days are so advanced.”

Then she snaps. “I AM IMPORTANT! I HAVE SHIT TO DO! BACK THE FUCK OFF OF ME, LET ME DROP MY FUCKING KID OFF IN PEACE!!!” Yeah, the gasping of kids, other parents and teacher meant nothing to this woman. Kids in earshot covered their ears. Well, except mine. They just stood there smiling. A horde of angry parents (okay, it was 3, but that’s practically a horde here) emerged on her as did two teachers.

I kissed my girls. Told them the same thing I tell them every day “Have fun! Learn stuff! I love you the mostest much in the whole entire universe.” And I drove away. The other people can try to drive the lesson home to her.

It’s her “I AM IMPORTANT!” attitude that is what’s wrong. We are ALL important. No one person should be treated as more important than anyone else. No one person should be given privileges that they haven’t earned. It takes a freakin village. Not just to raise our future but to nurture this country. Parents that act like this teach their children that it’s okay. Now, I am FAR from the perfect parent and will be the first one to point out my many flaws. But, I try. You know what- the first time I went to pick up the girls, I didn’t know the system. I had my “oh snap!” moment and I apologized. Then I never did it again.

If some one can’t follow simple rules of drop off and pick up at an elementary school, I fear for our future. If people become so self absorbed they can’t take two minutes to hear and really listen to what someone has to say to them, I fear for our future.

The second I pulled out of that parking lot, I was reminded of that clip in Mr. Mom. If you don't know the clip I'm talking about, please take a minute to watch the clip. :)

And it made me smile.

So, fellow peoples of the world, let’s get it together. Let’s remember to treat people with decency. Let’s remember we are all in this crazy thing called life together.

Let’s remember- south to pick up, north to drop off.

And let’s hope we don’t need to raise bail money for me if that woman cuts me off again. :)

Memories Made of Wood

2011-09-18T19:26:00.001-07:00

It may look like just an ordinary table. Sadly, some may think it ugly. Both couldn’t be further from the truth. What lies buried deep within the wood are years and years of memories. Of laughter. Of love.

Once upon a time, this table was the only table in my grandmother’s modest little apartment.

If you’ve read my “Yup, I’ve Got Boobs” (http://lifeinmonkeyland.blogspot.com/2009/10/yup-ive-got-boobs.html) post, you have caught a small glimmer into the awesomeness that was my grandmother. Her and my aunt were the first and only real strong female role models that I had growing up. Whenever I look at my family and wonder how I fit in, I think of them and it begins to make sense. She was also the only grandparent I’ve ever known.

Grandma passed away December 30th, 1999 of Pancreatic Cancer. Fuck you very much again Cancer. I remember someone looking at me and saying “Awww she just missed seeing the new millennium.” She was the feistiest 85 year old you would have ever met and I know exactly what her response would have been “New millennium, same shytting thing.” Someday I plan on writing a series of posts on her. Not only because the stories are great, but because they need to be preserved so I may hand them down to the girls and they can hand them down. To listen to them tell their children how great grandma rode to work on the back of a Harley and made the best Matzoh Ball soup ever is something I hope I live to hear.

Someday. But not today. I don’t have the strength in me today to open that all up. This last year has been one continual fight against the very type of beast that took my grandmother and my aunt. And it has gotten overwhelming. There have been days where I am so tired I just want to curl in a ball and cry. But then I think of them, take a deep breath and think “I’ve got this.” I miss them both so much.

Today I stood in the pouring rain, holding the door open as my parents brought it out of the back of their minivan. As soon as the first chair came out, I caught my breath. By the time the table came out, the lump in my throat was huge. I kept trying to swallow it, hoping the rain would help me wash it down. I haven’t seen it since before she passed.

Now it sits in our home where our memories, our laughter, our love can be added to those already within it. Its mere presence has already brought me comfort. I want to hug it, to sit at it and lay my head upon it… listening for her voice, smelling for Matzoh Ball soup.

To many it may look like a simple table. To me it is a piece of my grandma.

One Button Therapy

2011-08-02T05:42:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, I have always taken mass amounts of crap from someone before I stand up for myself. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll stand up for those I care about in a heartbeat. Yet, I’ve always seemed to subconsciously deem myself unworthy of the same thing.

I’ve long given people chance after chance and had a hard time cutting ties. It’s always seemed like giving up on someone. I don’t like to give up on people.

But, the flipside is not doing so is giving up on me. So, I’ve gotten better at voicing my feelings when they’ve been smacked around a bit. And today I took that one step further.

It’s going to seem ridiculously silly I’m sure, but it was a breakthrough to me. I’ve never actually “unfriended” or “deleted” or “unfollowed” someone I’ve known. I’ve blocked some crazies here and there but never someone I once deemed a friend (or more.)

Until now.

Facebook is different for me than anywhere else online. The monkeys have names. People on there have known me my whole life. Seen me naked. Gave me tissue when I’ve cried. Hell watched me give birth. There’s an intimacy the exists there that doesn’t anywhere else.

I realized that if someone is okay with being a complete and utter douchebag to me, than they do not have the right to that intimacy.

So, one click of the button has solved that. And it feels pretty damn good. :) It also kinda sucks.

Dear Mom, Told You Tetris Would Pay Off!

2011-07-31T16:39:00.000-07:00

So, if you follow me on the twitters or the facebook then you know I took the monkeys a rummagin' yesterday. You may also know that it was the "$10.00 for whatever you can fit in your bag" day and one of the women was not so thrilled when she saw my bag. For I am 1. a single mom and b. have mad Tetris skills.

The haul?

8 skirts
6 pairs of shorts
2 dresses
2 pairs of monkey pjs's
1 monkey sun visor
23 tops (mostly T shirts)

All pretty hipster wearing brand names.

So, that works out to be roughly to be roughly 24 cents a piece. :)

And it's all stuff I can layer the mess outta when it gets warmer. :)

Don't ever let anyone tell you Tetris would not come in handy!!

Excuse Me, You Have Some Self-Righteousness On Your Face…

2011-07-24T08:35:00.000-07:00

Allow me to help you wipe it off.

I’m pretty sure you’ve heard, Amy Winehouse died yesterday at the age of 27. Now, I will be the first to admit that it wasn’t a huge shock. What was though was the level of disrespect that I witnessed surrounding it. It broke my heart and made me sick.

I’m the last person to have anything resembling celebrity worship in me. (Okay, I totally squee’d when I met Wil Wheaton, but common, it’s Wil Wheaton.) I went on a HUGE rant when I woke up the morning after the earthquakes in Haiti that affected the lives of nearly 3 million people and Lady GaGa was the top trending item on Twitter. Why? Because she was exhausted. Eat a sammich! I tell you what though, if she had died (so very much not wishing that upon her or anyone else for that matter), I would have understood why that would be everywhere.

No matter what your opinion of her, you can not deny the talent she had. She was brave and groundbreaking. She had an insanely powerful voice that was belted from a fragile, haggard looking young woman. And she had such soul. Lyrics don’t get written like hers unless you’ve been there. Songs sung from the gut like that have a trail of pain behind them. Pain that is relived every time you sing it. Sing them all back to back and it’s no wonder she had issues. Some called her a tortured soul, others a train wreck. I’d always just wanted to give her a hug and hoped she’d figure it all out.

But, she didn’t. At a mere 27 years old, she has left this world. While the reports are still out, we’re all expecting cause of death is alcohol and/or drug related. It doesn’t mean she deserved it though. It doesn’t mean that it’s okay to say horrible things.

SHE WAS A HUMAN BEING.

I saw someone ask when the news first broke if it was wrong that they secretly kind of hoped the rumors were true. ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. Others made snide comments about Amy Winehouse’s death and how now we won’t have to be burdened by watching more about what happened in Norway. (Yes, I know they were being snarky.) Really? Do you seriously believe that Amy woke up Saturday morning and said “Fuck the Norwegians, I’m gonna one up them everywhere”?!!? Joke after joke after sick joke. Bitching upon bitching at having to see Amy Winehouse “shit everywhere.”

Everyone that dies is a loss to someone. Who are we to judge that it’s otherwise?

Here’s a thought- turn off your TV, step away from your computer and take a moment to call some one you love and tell them so. Make sure they know you really mean it. No matter if we lead the life of a saint, or that of an addict, none of us are guaranteed a specific amount of time on this earth. Use it well.

I choose to use mine to see the good and worth in people. To spend time reminding the people in my life they are important to me and genuinely so in their own unique way. To try to do my best to be a good person and a decent mother.

I am by no means a saint either. I am highly flawed and a continual work in progress.

But I can look myself in the mirror.

Hello, My Name is Natali & I Have RSOS. I think.

2011-07-22T18:31:00.000-07:00

Random Shiny Object Syndrome.

Now, most people will read that and think I like random shiny objects. Don’t get me wrong, I do. This is different though. In this scenario, I’m the shiny. Or maybe I just attract people with a weird version of ADD.

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a pretty social gal. I randomly smile at people all the time and tend to know most of the employees at the places I frequent. It’s just how I am. And people always tend to smile and chat back. That’s how human interaction is supposed to work. It’s a lovely thing.

But, I seem to have this knack for drawing in people that are all excited to get to know me, spend time with me, talk to me. Like I’m a new toy on Christmas morning. And I get all excited right back.

And then…..

*poof*

They move on to the next shiny.

And I’m left sad and pouty.

It’s actually started to affect me. I’m a pretty open book and have a huge squishy heart. Putting it out there was something I continued to do willingly no matter how much things hurt. Now I’m more skittish and guarded. I’ll catch myself doing the excited puppy dance back and stop and take five steps back and a deep breath. I keep bracing for my shiny to wear off and them to *poof.*

Maybe it’s all my fault. Perhaps I haven’t outgrown being that kid at the park that made a bunch of friends playing all day and cried the whole way home when I realized I would probably never see them again.

Either way, it sucks.

Karma Says Hi

2011-07-21T08:09:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Natali and I will be your Fairy Karma Mother today. To point out some things that will come back and bite you in the ass if you’re not careful. For some of you though I may be a swift #truthbat to the head. Both are for your own good really. And both delivered out of love.

What the Hell makes me qualified for such things? Everything or nothing depending on how you look at it. No, that’s not any attempt to be all cryptic. It works like this- I’m qualified because I am human. I am perceptive. I care. I’m not afraid to point out the ugly truths we all secretly know but sometimes forget or blatantly ignore because it’s more comfortable to do so. And odds are, I’ve been through it myself. If you don’t want to hear what I’m saying, well then nothing I can say will make me qualified enough in your eyes. Deep down, you know I’m right though.

So, grab a woobie, take a deep breath, clear your mind, open it up, sit back and relax…..

1. Don’t Be That DoucheBag.

Very few times in my life have I heard a sober person utter “dating is fun!” It’s an awkward dance between strangers that grows more awkward with every “ten tips to snag a geek” and “what he REALLY wants in a woman” type article that comes out. Wear this, say this, do this, don’t do this, wait this many days/dates before you do this. It’s all too much. Yet few want to be alone so it’s a necessary dance of sorts.

I have witnessed a highly common theme amongst my friends and people in my social streams as of late. Here’s the scenario….. (and it works both ways, girls do it as well, I’m not just claiming it’s guys. Douchebag is def not a single gendered noun.)

Girl/guy meet online. They start talking. They like each other. They are talking and texting like mad. There are clearly all kinds of commonalities. They finally meet over the obligatory coffee/lunch/beer. Things seem to go okay. Girl never hears from guy again.

Seriously!? WHAT THE FUCK?? I don’t get this. Yet, I’ve seen soo much of it lately. First of all, it would seem there was clearly a connection there. If not romantic, at least as friends. Your friend quota is just suddenly maxed out?

Secondly and most importantly- GET OVER YOURSELF.

Guess what Sunshine? There is a chance she wasn’t wanting to start nomming your face either. Man up/Woman up and be a decent human being. Say “hey, I had a nice time. I’m not sure how you feel, but I was feeling way more a friend vibe than romantic. I’m sorry if that’s not what you were feeling. But, if you’d like to stay in touch, hang out…..” you get the point. Something nice.

DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT BE THAT DOUCHEBAG. No one deserves to be treated like that. And honey, if you are the victim of that douchebag THEY ARE NOT WORTHY. Trust me love, you WILL do soooo much better. YOU DESERVE BETTER.

2. Actions always speak louder than words. So, if you can't back yours up, let your next action be walking.

I put this up over the weekend. The first part is older than dirt. I’m fairly certain even dinosaurs lived by this. This bears repeating- Words woo and pull at our heartstrings. One right sentence from the right person can make our entire day, or week or month. But, the words mean nothing if they are not backed by actions. Whispering sweet nothings… they are nothings unless there are actions that make them somethings. I don’t care who you are, “I love you” followed by a junkpunch just ain’t right.

There are many facets to this too. You can’t tell someone they are important to you, yet you have no time for them. Especially when you are all over FB, Twitter, whatever talking to everyone else.

When you tell people something, they tend to believe you. Especially when it’s things like “You’re special, I care, you’re important, I love you.” Those are big words.

WORDS THAT IF YOU CAN’T BACK UP, JUST TURN AROUND AND WALK NOW BEFORE YOU DO MORE DAMAGE THAN YOU ALREADY HAVE.

3. Never make someone a priority when you are only their option.

This is one I need to keep revisiting. I think it’s one of the hardest things to master. We all have (whether we want to admit it or not) the desire to be liked. Some people don’t feel like they are liked unless they know people are paying attention. The more people that pay attention, the better they feel.

When no one is giving them that, enter you. They can always count on you. Well, both of you need to listen up.

IF YOU DON’T STOP SEEKING EVERYONE’S APPROVAL/COMPLIMENTS/LUST/WHATEVER, YOU ARE GOING TO LOSE THE ONE PERSON THAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN THERE. One true person is worth way more than a bunch of silly fans that will never know the real you or bail when they do meet it.

and

YOU DESERVE TO BE A PRIORITY. THE PRIORITY. There IS someone out there that will want to make you their priority.

4. The truth ALWAYS comes out.

Lying about who you are or pretending to be someone you aren’t does no one any good. Everyone needs a friend in their life with a strong bullshit detector. And we need to listen to them. It’ll save A LOT of heartache.

5. Kindness always wins and grumpy people just suck.

If you are going to choose to judge other people on one mere characteristic , let that one be that they are human. Mere flesh and blood like the rest of us. A commonality we can all relate to. Even the seemingly charmed don’t live charmed lives. We all go through our own trials. What’s small to us may be huge to others and vice versa. So, the next time you’re out- hold a door open for a stranger and smile at them. They may really need it. The next time you’re about to judge someone you don’t even know based on their political views or color of their skin, whatever silly little thing you feel like randomly judging them on, find something about them that you have in common. I already gave you one. :) Or something you like about them. I know that’s a big step, but try it once. It’s not gonna kill you.

Well, I think that’s it for now. I know there is more knocking around my noggin but I wanted to get this up before I started my day. Thank you for putting up with my little rant for the morning.

Remember- Karma shows up for us all. It’s up to us to whether it’s to say hi and give us a huggle, or smack the shit outta us. :)

Reason #4,529,381 I Wonder How They Are My Parents

2011-05-01T20:33:00.000-07:00

So, just got off the phone with my mom. She called to check on how I was taking to all my lovely new meds and how the girls’ weekend went.

Then she busted out this unique gift she has. You know how people play that telephone game? My mom seriously must have screwed that game up for everyone every time she played it. This time was just classic.

Mom: “Oh! Did you hear? They confirmed Obama is dead.”
Me: “WHAT!?!??! HOLY SHIT!!!! WHO KILLED HIM!?!?!?!? WHEN!?!? WHERE!?!?!? OMG!!!!” *booting up laptop*
Mom: “Well we did of course. Long time coming too.”
Me: “WE DID WHAT!?!?!” *light bulb clicks as I realize this is my mom I’m talking to* *deep breath* “Mom, do you mean O S A M A ? As in bin Laden???”
Mom: “Oh yeah, hee hee, him.”
Me: *BIGGEST FACEPALM EVER*

I swear my sister’s years of taunting me by saying I was left in a basket on the doorstep by a bunch of gypsies and mom and dad just kept me because they felt sorry for me cuz I was ugly and all really feels like the truth sometimes. Smart gypsies. Gypsies that know the difference between Obama and Osama. My mom even voted for the guy. Obama that is. At least I hope she got it right on the ballot. If not, secret service are probably monitoring them.

Nothing Says "Happy Easter!" Like a Star Wars Debate

2011-04-24T17:09:00.000-07:00

We are now home from our annual Easter brunch at my parent’s house. The monkey’s fave Easter basket item? Yoda kites. I popped our dinner in the oven and the girls began to argue which Star Wars movie we are going to watch.

I should prelude this with the fact that they are 5 & 6 now but have been Star Wars fans since they were 2 & 3. I should also mention that as soon as we got home, lilest stripped off the dress so her half of the debate was argued wearing only her underwear.

I love my little geeklings and am frequently in awe of them when they get in uber geek mode. Fighting they do frequently. They flat out throw down like boys. Then two minutes later are smooching on each other and cooing about how they are bestest friends ever. But, every once in a while an actual debate occurs. Tonight is one of those nights.

For some reason, Revenge of the Sith has always been one of eldest’s favorites. Which doesn’t make any sense to me. She LOVES Anakin. Before it sunk in that it wasn’t really possible, she vowed to one day marry him. You’d think that Attack of the Clones would be her favorite then. Why the one where he turns to the dark side and gets his ass handed to him by Obi Wan? Yet it is. It also happens to be my least favorite of all of them. I understand it is necessary, but it’s all so sad. In fact, given that she is inherited my upset at movies that make me sad and habit of turning them off if they make me cry, I would think she would also find this the least favorite. But, whatever the reason, it’s her go to when we talk the new movies vs the classics.

Lilest is a girl after my own heart. She’s all about the classics. Of them, Return of the Jedi is frequently the one that she pushes for. She also HATES Revenge of the Sith.

And so the debate began.

Eldest declares her choice of Revenge of the Sith. Lilest shoots her down. Her argument is simple- it’s too dark, too scary, too sad. Eldest counters with the necessity of it in the total story line and then busts out comparing it to the story of Easter- Anakin dies. He is resurrected as Vader. Lilest throws her a complete curve ball with Return of the Jedi being much more Easter-like because Vader dies and Anakin is resurrected and redeemed. Eldest counters that Anakin flat out dies then, therefore it is not a story of resurrection. Lilest counters with the fact that Revenge of the Sith ends with Vader being created, but ends with that. There is no “character development of him at that point.” Eldest replies “well played, but Anakin still dies in Jedi.” Lilest “Oh really? Because I’m fairly certain that those that are strong with the Force never truly die and he does appear at the closing of the movie along with Obi Wan and Yoda.” Eldest’s retort? “That’s it, there is only one way to solve this- to the light sabers!”

So which one are we watching?

The Princess Bride.

Yup, they decided that fighting wasn’t the answer, it’s Spring Break so we should just pull a full on Star Wars marathon from start to finish instead.

I can hang with that.

All I Wanted Was Some Nail Polish

2011-03-23T09:10:00.000-07:00

I know I’m far from a traditional mom. I do things way differently than most moms do. In fact, other moms at eldest’s school and their old day care love to point that out to me. It just makes me smile. The one thing that I am traditional in, in a way that moms SHOULD be, is the mama bear effect. Yeah, I’m fiercely protective of my monkeys. I try to keep it in check though.

Having said all that, while I’m proud of the mother I am, I try not to judge others on their parenting. We all know that they don’t pop out holding an instruction manual or a flash drive with a pdf of one. The basics of raising children are easy though. It’s not rocket science. You keep them safe and show them all the love you can. When I see those basic truths not being upheld, that’s when I get mad.

So, today I had to run in to Walgreen’s really quickly. Lilest and I pull in. It takes me a bit to answer a couple of texts I got while driving. Maybe 5 minutes after parking, we get out and trek on in. While walking past this giant new Lexus SUV that had been parked and running kitty corner in front of us, I notice two things. 1. It’s unlocked and there's no one in the front. B. There is a roughly 2 year old alone in a car seat in the back. That last one made me take a couple of steps back and actually look into the windows to make sure I was seeing right. Yup. Alone. *eye twitch*

We go in, grab my nail polish, stand in line, wait for the check out lady and the woman ahead of us to stop coffee clutching, pay for it and wander back out.

And the Lexus is still there.

Still running.

Lil guy still in there all alone.

As I get in my car, my mind struggles. Yes, this is the burbs. But, it’s unlocked. Keys in and running. With child. The mere thought of what could happen terrifies me. But, is it rational? I know there is NO WAY IN HELL I would EVER do that. Jinkies, lilest is over twice that child’s age and in she went with me. So I sit and I think. Lilest asks me why we aren’t driving yet and I explain to her what is going through my head. Then, she hits me with logic- “Mommy, you always stand up for what you feel is right. And you always say sometimes we need to be the voice for people who can’t use theirs.” Grrrr. What to do? Going in means the possibility of a very less than pleasant exchange with the driver/mom/dad/babysitter/guardian/what have you. The kind where people get to swinging. Yet I can’t just drive away and be wondering if that little boy is okay. I can sit here and wait for the person to come out and keep an eye on the vehicle. But, what happens when they go to the next place and do the same thing? Will someone watch it then? Will that little boy be okay?

So, I called the non emergency number for our police department and I told them the situation. Left it in their hands. And drove away hoping that the little boy would be okay, knowing they were at least on their way.

Did I do the right thing? I’m still not sure. I kinda hope whoever it is was in there buying some birth control. All I wanted was some nail polish.

Happy Birthday My Dear Friend

2011-03-02T08:45:00.000-08:00

I know that I am far from alone when I say that Dr. Seuss shaped my life. Generation after generation will continue to utter that same phrase. At least I hope.

If you have followed my blog since I started it (which you probably haven’t) you will have heard this story before. It bears repeating though. :)

My quest for knowledge has always been there. When I was little, the birthday cut off for Kindergarten was December 1st- the day before mine. By the time I reached 3 1/2 my parents realized I was much different than they had anticipated and they thought I should be in school. Yes folks this was before 3K, 4K and all that other stuff. Back in my day there was only one Kindergarten. And you had to be 5 by the cut off date to attend. Feeling I was more than ready, mom called the school district and was told to bring me in, that they would test me. If I passed, I was in. Like the already lil nerd I was, I was SO excited to go in and test. I remember what I wore that day and I remember them handing me a sheet with a clown on it holding a bunch of balloons. While I don’t recall the tests, I do recall that each one I passed, they put a sticker on to fill in a balloon. All I needed was over half of them full. Proudly, I skipped out of there with all of them colored in. I was going to go to school!

Until the call came. The “If we make an exception for her, then someone comes in with Dec. 3rd & 4th, where do we draw the line?” call. I won’t lie, I totally cried my lil heart out.

Then, I woke up the next morning pissed and determined.

I grabbed all my lil Dr. Seuss books and sat down in front of Sesame Street and taught my geeky self how to read. On a mission, I had mastered all of the books within a couple of weeks and would read them over and over again.

If that alone was the only thing I got from him, that would mean the world. The independence he gave me to teach myself to read empowered me. It taught me that books were the key to knowledge. Not long later it taught me that they are also the key to survival when you need to escape from an unhealthy environment.

And what knowledge did my dear friend Seuss teach me a the ripe old age of 4? He taught me the foundations of who I am:

* Always be yourself:
"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You."

*Being a geek is good:
"The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go."

"There's no limit to how much you'll know, depending how far beyond zebra you go."

*Always stand up for what you believe:
"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, Nothing is going to get better. It's not."

"I know, up on top you are seeing great sights, but down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights."

*Life is tough, but have faith:
"I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!"

"You'll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life's a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left. “

*Keep an open mind:
"Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!"

"If you never did you should. These things are fun and fun is good."

"You’ll miss the best things if you keep your eyes shut."

And so very, very much more.

He taught me to be creative. To make up words, characters, entire worlds. To be different. To not only use my imagination but to embrace it. That the world isn’t black and white, nor should it ever be. It should be colorful. It should be filled with amazing creatures all so different but living together peacefully. And if a Grinch pops up, show them some love.

So, happy, happy birthday Dr. Seuss. May your legacy forever live on.

"We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."

A Continued Twisted Love Affair

2011-02-28T14:45:00.000-08:00

Feb 28, 2011

Dear Mr. Hipster in MiniVan That Decided Stop Signs STILL Don't Apply to Him,

It's very sweet that you clearly have a desire to ram your large vehicle into me. Most men would start with dinner, but not you. You go the extra 30 mph, throw caution to the wind and laugh in the face of traffic signs just to get to me. As we begun our usual dance of me blaring my horn at you and you lifting your Starbucks Venti Whatever to salute me, don't think I didn't notice that this time you added a wink. And the smirk when lilest rolled down the window and screamed "I KNOW HOW TO SPELL CREEP NOW YOU BIG ILLITERATE JERK!!" was oh so charming. Well until it turned to confusion when eldest rolled hers down and said "YOU DON'T EVEN NEED TO BE ABLE TO READ!! THE SHAPE AND COLOR IS UNIVERSAL FOR A REASON!! YOU MUST HAVE CHEATED ON THE TEST!!!"

But, my favorite look of yours was the sweet look of slight terror when we followed you to your house and all honked, smiled and waved. Yes, we now know exactly where you live. So, I'll stop by and say hi when I want to see you again. No one likes a pushy guy. Play a little hard to get from now on please.

Or else. My YOU KNOW WHY is soooooo ready.

<3,
Me

P.S. Your stupid soul patch is still crooked. Only now in the other direction. That takes talent.

A Love Note, Of Sorts :)

2011-02-28T14:43:00.000-08:00

Feb 1, 2011

Dear Mr. Hipster in MiniVan That Decided Stop Signs Don't Apply to Him,

Thanks for making me have to slam on my breaks & almost donut. That was super fun. I've been meaning to become better acquainted with that ditch. I'm sorry I missed the memo that going "cheers" with your Starbuck's Venti at someone you could have killed meant "I'm sorry." Hopefully my finger didn't throw you off. I also apologize for lilest yelling "WE DON'T HAVE A STOP SIGN, YOU DO YOU CREEPOID!!! EVEN I CAN READ STOP!! S-T-O-P YOU (mommy how do you spell creep!?!?)!!!!!!" Kids these days. Hope you have a swell day!

<3,
Me

P.S. As I am aware of the fact you live in my subdivision, you may want to pick up a protective cup. YOU KNOW WHY!

P.P.S. Your stupid soul patch is crooked. I know, straight lines are tough.

Time to Right the Wrong

2011-01-28T09:35:00.000-08:00

It's been two weeks now. Two weeks since I went public with part of the saga that was UberDork Cafe and Rock the LAN. You know, it’s not even right to say that. There are some people who I am proud to call my friends that are affiliated with Rock the LAN. None of that, of any of this, was ever their fault. No, it’s just one person. One man, responsible for it all.

I didn’t want to do it. I begged for him to come forward with very simple requests. I told him he was backing me into a corner I hated being in. That didn’t matter to him.

So, I came forward. People involved with and people that ordered the calendar had every right to know. Since he refused to give me the means to contact anyone privately, I had to do so publicly. I did so politely. I kept everything strictly to the calendar and didn’t name any specific name.

When I did, his reaction was to accuse me of “dividing a community with malice and drama.” Because of who I am, that got to me. He knows me well enough to know that it would. There’s not a malicious cell in my being. I stand up for what I believe in, I stand up for people I care about, I stand up for the amazing community I am proud to be a part of, I am not quiet when I see things that are wrong. There is a HUGE difference between being feisty (in the spirited, plucky, spunky kind of way) and being spiteful. And as far as drama goes, I am certainly not one to start or perpetuate it.

And so I have sat here for the last week wondering what to do about this whole mess. ALL of it. The calendar is just one facet of it. His statement of accusation was followed by telling me if I “persist” he would “retaliate.” That he had “been nice to this point, but no longer.” I allowed him to paralyze me with this.

I’m just a dorky gal with a dream of opening up a cafe. A physical destination where my community can hang out and be themselves. Come in, grab a bite, game with your friends, your family, new people, by yourself. Check out the webcomic kiosk and find some new favorites. Check out the geeky goods kiosk and find some wonderful new things for yourself or others. Take classes, learn new things, have parties, meetings. A place our community can call home. A place our community deserves. Yes, it was me wanting a place for my girls and I to hang out that started this crazy dream. But, it is OUR dream. Our revolution. We are here and we are proud.

It is that fact that I’ve had made very clear to me recently. This is not just about what has been done to me, but to the community. To all the people that have believed in this enough to donate items for auction, buy T shirts, buy calendars. To all the people that helped spread the word so others would do that. To all the people that said “I want one of these here!” To all the people that are following the growth of this dream in hope.

Regardless of what he chooses to do, he will not stop this dream from happening. Period.

But, it’s time the whole truth comes out. While some people have received refunds for things, there are still many I suspect that haven’t. That don’t even know what has happened. They all just wanted to support the dream. I have had people say “I ordered an UberDork Cafe T Shirt months ago and when it didn’t come, I just thought of it as a donation toward the cafe.” Which is so amazing to me that their belief in this was so strong they also went silent. The thing is, the cafe has never seen any of the money.

Nope. Not one cent. Justin Hurst is in sole possession of EVERYTHING. Everything that has been donated for auction. Any money that was paid for T shirts or calendars that hasn’t been refunded, all in his possession. Repeated requests have been made for months for financial statements, for spreadsheets on all the auction items, for spreadsheets on names and contact information for all those that have ordered anything UberDork Cafe-related. Nothing. No way for me to make sure that things get made right.

The statement he issued on the Rock The LAN site claimed “we will however not be refunding the customers that have already started receiving the first group of shirts that have been shipped that will have to be taken up with the crew from the Café (you will be able to reach them at the UberDorkCafe.com.)” Yet, the “crew from the Cafe” have absolutely no information on how many shirts that includes, who ordered them so we can contact them and make sure they actually received them and we sure don’t have any money from any of them. Considering in an email from Justin dated January 7th he stated “we now have confirmation of over 500 shirts purchased from RTL being delivered and the rest are in route”, well that’s quite A LOT.

That statement on Rock the LAN was quite interesting for me to read in general. Even more interesting that any comments made on it were deleted. If “we” (and, again, it’s pretty much just Justin as he made sure contact regarding the dealings with the Cafe and Rock the LAN occurred only with him) supported the cafe SO much as the statement said, than why have the requests continued to be ignored? I know people get busy, I know that he has some things going on in his life that is his own business. I also know that he will pull it out to use to defend his actions. Which, would be believable if he hasn’t been spending hours on conference calls and such trying to recruit new writers for the site. Yes, he has a site, a business to maintain. But, if there is time for that, there is time to forward the financials and spreadsheets he claims to already have. There is time to call UPS and ship off all the auction items. There is time to make things right.

Come to think of it, that statement on Rock the LAN was all “we” and “our.” That’s a lot to place on the staff of Rock the LAN whom were only privy to whatever it is he chose to tell them. I stepped up and claimed my responsibility in this. I made a huge mistake in trusting someone I thought was a friend and cared for this community. I believed that everything he told me was true. That he would follow through on all the promises that he made. I repeatedly gave him the benefit of the doubt when he failed to follow through on things. That is all on me. And it breaks my heart. But, I’ll be damned if I sit back and allow it to continue. I refuse to not do everything within my power and right to try to correct the wrongs that have been done.

What has been done is not even remotely close to “nice to this point.” I am certain that I will get a threat of coming after me for defamation of character. But, defamation of character is defined as “ false and unprivileged spoken words or written publication.” False is the key term here. I have stuck completely to the truth. Truth that can easily be backed up by texts, emails, notes from our weekly meetings that occurred every Tuesday night at 9pm central time via Skype and action item documents that were generated as a result of all those meetings.

Besides having truth on my side, I have faith. Faith in my community. Faith in that you all know me. Know that I am far from malicious, not trying to invoke drama but to make things right and to keep them from happening again.

So, my dear friends, I need your help. I need you to help me get word to EVERYONE that donated auction items, bought T Shirts, calendars, had ANY transaction with Justin Hurst and/or Rock the LAN for ANYTHING related to UberDork Cafe. If you are one of those people, PLEASE contact me directly at Natali@UberDorkCafe.com.

It is my intent to get this whole mess sorted, the wrongs righted, as quickly as possible so it’s back to onward and upward with UberDork Cafe. Thank you all so very much for the support, the love. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate it. I’m just gonna have to huggle you all one day. :)

Now let’s go REALLY build a better dream!! :)

Important, Yet Really, Really, Really Difficult

2011-01-14T06:02:00.000-08:00

I never thought that I would have to write something like this. That may be proof of how naive I may be. I always preferred to think of myself as optimistic, hopeful, positive.

I owe so very many of you a huge apology. When someone from our community came to me wanting to help with our dream, UberDork Cafe, I believed them. Whole heartedly. I trusted them. Completely. That person has failed me and I, in turn, have failed you. For this, I am truly so very sorry.

It was my mistake to look at them as a friend and every missed deadline or promise that wasn’t followed through, I credited to them being busy. Kept giving the benefit of the doubt. I then asked one person a simple request- the list of all the names and contact information for everyone who had ordered the calendar so far so that I could send them an update and thank them personally. That request was responded to as though I had some sordid plot or agenda. The reaction not only surprised me, but confused me to no end.

Repeated requests since then have been made to not only communicate with the person, but to get the information of everyone that has ordered anything (which includes T shirts as well) through him for the cafe or have donated items to be auctioned for the cafe. Still, I have nothing.

Earlier yesterday I had sent him an email begging him to explain things to me as he was backing me into a corner that I did not want to be in. I guess his response was to remove UberDork Cafe from his site.

Without word to me. Without communicating to me. Without giving me any information regarding UberDork Cafe that I have repeatedly requested.

I've been trying to find the words to express all of this without it turning even uglier than it seems to have gotten. But, everyone who ordered things has a right to know. Without having any information, I'm being forced to make it public.

I am left sitting here with no way to contact anyone that ordered things. Things that were paid for and have not been delivered. I have a group of amazing women that created a calendar out of love and hope to make a difference in the awareness of breast cancer and two awesome organizations that are to be receiving funds from the sales of the calendar to whom I have no answers for. No way to explain why someone would do such a thing.

All I have is a promise to all of you to do my best to make everything right. I promise you that this calendar will get printed, t shirts will be made and this cafe will be built. It’s just going to take longer than had hoped due to broken promises and the fact that to try correct this mistake, it seems it’s going to have to come out of my pocket to do so.

You have all been so great at helping to get the word out and it’s with an incredibly heavy heart that I need to ask you all to stop relaying any link that involves ordering anything through RockTheLAN.com or RockTheLANStore.com

If you or someone you know ordered the calendar through the link that was sent out, have ordered any UDC-related T Shirts, or have donated items to be auctioned please have them contact me directly at JustNatali@gmail.com.

Thank you all so very much for believing in this. Again, I am truly very sorry.

The Epic Gift That Keeps On Giving

2010-12-16T19:19:00.000-08:00

It started with a tweet from @shimmer418. A little thing called #BoobieWed. What is #BoobieWed? It’s a group of women that have made it a mission to raise breast cancer awareness across Twitter, Facebook and Myspace by reminding men and women to self examine. Every Wednesday a sea of supporters change their avatars to show their support. Having lost my aunt Carol, my first official partner in crime, to breast cancer, this hit home. Early detection may have saved her life.

That one tweet led to a cathartic post. A declaration “Yup, I’ve Got Boobies.” And ultimately, my polka dotted bra clad breasts went up on Twitter for my little group of followers to see. The reaction was mixed to say the least. But, as soon as that post went up, my awesome tribe of geek girls responded with an outpouring of love and support that went beyond just RT's. That's how we roll. One makes a stand, we stand behind her.

We come in all shapes and sizes, each one of them gorgeous in their own right. We cover every spectrum you could declare geeky and we do it proudly.

We are strong. We are geek. We have boobies. We use our powers for good.

And I am so proud to announce that we have banded together to create a project for the cause.

Announcing The #BoobieWed Epic Geek Girls Edition Calendar!

Complete With:
Over a year’s worth of awesome women proudly displaying their geek and their girlie.
Monthly reminders to self examine
Major (and not so major) Con dates printed right on it

Featuring:
Amy Ratcliffe
Carie Small
Chelsie Tinordi
Geek Girl Diva
Jennie Zells
Jessie Gurd
Kara Evans
Katie Doyle
Kristin Reilly- Geek Girls Network
Lisa Manglass
Maria Palafox
Natali Heuss- Uber Dork Cafe
Nicole Wakelin
Ruth LoveCraft

Why This Calendar is so Important and What Your Purchase Means:

There are more than 250,000 women living in this country that were diagnosed with breast cancer under that age of 40. That does not account for the thousands that did not detect it early enough and lost their battles with breast cancer as a result.

The strongest weapon in beating breast cancer is early detection. That is the fuel behind this project- driving home the importance of it and reminding women (and yes men) to check their breasts regularly and remind those in their life to do so as well.

A portion of the proceeds of all Calendar sales will go to the following organizations:

The Young Survival Coalition: YSC works with survivors, caregivers and the medical, research, advocacy and legislative communities to increase the quality and quantity of life for women diagnosed with breast cancer ages 40 and under.

Feel Your Boobies: FYB is a breast cancer non-profit organization whose mission is to create an annual reminder campaign that utilizes unexpected and unconventional methods to remind young women to “feel their boobies”.

Remember #BoobiesAreStrongerThanTheForce But they still need to be checked.

Ready to purchase your copies? Click here!

Give the Epic Gift That Keeps On Giving.

M.O.M.

2010-12-15T08:15:00.000-08:00

It is almost complete. A shakabuku is no good if you fail to follow through with it. Although by definition it alters your reality so following through on it kind of becomes an instinct. Still, we instinctually tend to shy away from things that are difficult emotionally. I sat down last night and this morning and completed a HUGE step for me. The M.O.M.

Monkey Operations Manual

So what is the M.O.M? And why so hard?

Long story shortish, I’m a single mom. The girls and I left when they were very young and for all the right reasons. Even so, it wasn’t easy. Eldest remembers the way I was treated by the ex and it has stuck with her and we’ve worked on that. Lilest seems to have been too little to remember, but I still wonder. Their dad is still a part of their lives and that is a whole other story. Suffice it to say, his way of parenting and my way of parenting are VASTLY different. He is all discipline (on the rather extreme side of it at that) and little love. I’m all love and have been lacking in the discipline department.

In my head, I was providing balance. But, the scale has been very far out of whack. The result- yes, they may fear him in many ways, but they also respect and listen to him. With me- they love the mess out of me, but they don’t always respect and listen to me. Lilest especially. And it has gotten more and more obvious. I have made steps, but they have been babysteps.

I have the same issues with wanting to help, putting them first and boundaries when it comes to them. And I’m their PARENT. It’s not right. I need to fully lead by example or they are going to grow up and my incorrect attempt to provide them with a “healthy” environment is going to end up leading to very unhealthy issues in their lives. The old cycle I attempted to break is going to be replaced with a new cycle that, quite frankly, is no prettier.

In understanding my issues and the roots of all of them, I can now clearly see how to change this all for the better. I know my girls better than anyone else. They are really great kids, don’t get me wrong. I will be the first to totally gush about how awesome they are. But, no one is perfect and while that is okay, it’s up to me to help them be the best “me”s that they can be.

So, I have taken my new found clarity and have devised a plan. A manual even.

New House Rules
New Behavioral Charts
New Disciplinary Structures
New Tighter Routines

We have had rules, we have had routines, we have had some sense of structure. But, no where near what it needs to have been. Now it will be clearly laid out in a way they will both understand and be a true balance of discipline and love. Okay, so the love may eek out just a bit higher than the discipline. I am who I am. :)

And Santa is going to back me up with gifts to help all of us stick to it. :)

Tonight a new Monkey Order begins. The M.O.M will prevail.

Life’s a Garden and We’re All Flowers

2010-12-14T12:28:00.000-08:00

Some people may call it a lesson learned. But, this is more of a epiphany or shakabuku. Either way, what started as a slow discovery has hit hard. You know when you know something but it doesn’t quite sink in to your bones far enough for it to be a permanent part of you? Well, that moment that it gets engrained, burned into your psyche, that’s the important stuffs. Combine it with when you realize what you truly need to do with that and make the commitment to do so and you got yourself a shakabuku. (I like shakabuku because it’s so fun to say. )

Often times we accept things about ourselves and that’s that. Sometimes we really need to understand the why, the how and the impact that these things have on us and those around us or that are an important part of our lives. Take it back to the root and then keep digging. Why keep digging? You can pluck something out that you don’t like about yourself and replant something new there. But, sometimes the roots of it are really good, they actually just need to be stronger. So, ya gotta dig, ya dig?

There have been a few events lately that have built up to all of this. When I needed to, I lacked the ability to really explain myself properly. Rather than having the sense to say “I don’t know, let me figure it out please” I stumbled through what I thought it was. Describing a sort of reflex I’d somewhat gotten accustomed to as being part of me. A reflex that I now realize that wasn’t truly a bad thing, but also wasn’t a good thing either. Kind of one of those “the road to Hell is paved with good intentions” things. I don’t want that anymore. Ever.

I am the first one to freely admit I am flawed and proclaim myself forever a work in progress. There are no perfect people in this world, but I should constantly strive to be the best me that I can be. I’ve clearly been slacking on that. It was staring at the aftermath of the aforementioned events that it all hit me.

Some basic truths about me:

1. I truly love to help other people. It’s not motivated in any way by wanting people to like me or wanting anything at all in return. The reason is a two-parter. The first one being that I have been through some pretty rough situations in my life and many of them I did so on my own. While I appreciate the strength that it has given me, a part of me has wanted to do what I could to make sure others had help when faced with something, be it good or bad, that they needed help with. The second being that I really believe we are all on this crazy, wonderful ride called life together and should cut each other some slack and lend a hand when able. When people ask for help, 99% of the time, my reaction is one of those reflexes I have- I say yes and run full force into helping them out. Like an excited puppy dog.

2. I have a propensity of putting everyone else first. Being a giver is a part of me that I’ve always been proud of. When it comes to needs, wants, desires, time, what have you- I will put someone else’s before mine far too often. Again, reflex.

3. I have difficulty setting and keeping boundaries. I’ve worked on this and have gotten a lot better on it, but I still have so far to go. If someone crosses a line when it comes to someone I care about, I can fiercely defend that boundary for them. In a heartbeat. But, I fail to apply that to myself far too often. Someone will test a boundary and now there are times where I can point out the boundary and mark it out for them. “Don’t cross here please.” Then I inevitably feel bad when they are being nice and allow them to put their toe on that line again. It’s even worse when they are friends. I’ve tried to get better at that, but I still have issues completely severing unhealthy friendships.

When you combine these three together, while I’ve always believed they are good traits to have, they can lead to a lot of problems.

The problem with reflexes is this- while they can be life saving if they are healthy reflexes, they have the ability to do the opposite when they are not healthy ones. As I stare at that dreaded aftermath, it is far too obvious the damage that can truly be done.

In the past, the biggest detriment of these reflexes was I’d get completely burnt out and/or get my feelings hurt. Well, when you look at all three of them and the thought processes I had been using, it all came down to - well it was just me being affected by being burnt out or hurt so that’s not that bad. Right? Sooooo wrong. Even if it is just me, those in my life that care about me are affected no matter what. I don’t want to see someone I care about burnt out or hurt. It’s time I accept that others may not want to see me that way either.

When an excited puppy takes off running, they trip, they fall, they knock things over, they see a shiny and start running in a new direction which means accidentally forgetting the original direction and sometimes they flat-out run right into traffic. Whether they mean to or not, they can leave quite the path of destruction behind them.

It’s time for me to learn to take a deep breath, calm the fuck down and think things through THOROUGHLY. How will this affect me? How will it affect those closest to me?

It’s okay to put me first. In fact, if I want to keep the things I like about me, keep those most important to me in my life, I have to. I am no good to anyone a stressed out, burnt out ball of hurt. I may be good at hiding it, but that doesn’t last long. And I'm definitely no good to those I care about if my reflexes hurt them.

It’s okay for me to say no. I’ve been good at it when it is something that affects my core values, well my values need to start with me valuing me a lot more. It’s okay to completely end relationships, friendships, what have you when they are not healthy. It’s okay and important for me to explain myself clearly to them as to what they are doing, how they are affecting me and that if they continue to do so that I can no longer continue to have them in my life. I will never like hurting someone else’s feelings (and I do believe that has always been the big factor- not wanting to hurt someone’s feelings) but I can’t keep putting other people’s feelings before mine. My feelings should be just as important to me.

This has been a lot for me to digest and really hard for me to openly declare. Balancing my new found me-ness is going to be a bit of a learning process. I will inevitably stumble and trip and may still take off running all excited at times. While I am strengthening these roots, this flower is going to be a bit wonky. Okay, more wonky than usual. This flower will always be flawed. And that’s okay. But, in the end, it will still be even stronger and more beautiful.

When you look at it from afar- life really is a garden and in it, we are all flowers. Each one of us beautifully flawed in our own way.

“Look, in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with.” ~ The Dad in Juno :)

Thankfully Yours

2010-11-25T07:21:00.000-08:00

Many people look at Thanksgiving like they do Valentine’s Day. “You should tell someone you love them/are thankful for them every day. You shouldn’t need some over-commercialized, Hallmark holiday to remind you to do it.” They are right. But, at least there is that one day. Lives get busy and hectic and we often just assume the people in our lives know how important they are to us. Rushing routines make one day blur into another and Thanksgiving thunks us on the head, pokes us in the heart and reminds us to stop and embrace that moment. It’s a day when, those that are lucky, gather around a huge meal with family, watch football, plot the assault on the upcoming holiday season. My favorite part of Thanksgiving when I was little was the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. It still is something I look forward to every year. In fact, #3 on my bucket list is a trip to New York with a sublist of things to do when I am there and one of those is watching the parade live.

My new favorite part will be the tradition the monkeys and I created this year. If you’ve been following me here, on Twitter or know me on FaceBook, you know I’m pretty nontraditional when it comes to parenting. We do a lot of goofy things. :) A couple of weeks ago we were out and about and there was Christmas everywhere. The girls back me on my “no Christmas before Thanksgiving.” I’m not going to lie though, sometimes it’s kind of hard. What used to make me huff and puff and grump about being earlier and earlier every year, I now somewhat smile at. It’s not going anywhere, people aren’t going to stop putting Christmas up as early as they can. Stores aren’t going to suddenly decide to refrain. So, why expend the energy in being upset about it? This time of year is my absolute favorite and many times I end up getting caught up in all the things I “have” to get done before the big day and then it’s over and done with and I feel like I missed part of it in all that prep work. So, we came up with an idea. A compromise, if you will. A way to pay proper homage to a day that rightfully deserves it, while embracing that excitement that starts to well for the season of bright shiny lights, the spirit of giving and the anticipation of everyone’s favorite jolly ole man to come a calling.
This year, we made a Thanksgiving Tree. Yes, it is our Christmas Tree, lit up with white twinkle lights. But, it is decorated with leaves, the Star Wars Scrufies Eldest got for her birthday, hand print drawn turkeys with names of people and things we are thankful for and topped with a giant turkey. And I think it’s absolutely beautiful. We had such a good time making it and we managed to take that same feeling you get when getting ready for Christmas and apply it to a very deserving holiday. We decked our halls and spent weeks being thankful. Not just one day. And it was pretty darn awesome.

This year I have so much to be thankful for. So many people in my life with whom I would not be where I am today without. There is no way I could even list them, in fear my skatty self would accidentally miss someone which would make me feel HORRIBLE. My sister, my family, my friends, everyone that even remotely believes in my dream of the UberDork Cafe, the doctors that saw me through a few very rough weeks fairly recently and most of all- my daughters. They truly make me the woman I am today. I hope that one day they will put up Thanksgiving Trees with their families.

Wherever you are, whether you celebrate this day or not, I hope you know how thankful I am that you are reading this. That you are in my life. I hope that you take a moment to even just think about the things in your life you are thankful for. If you act on those thoughts, all the better.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Thankfully Yours,
Natali

Honey, I'm Hooooooome!

2010-11-08T07:46:00.000-08:00

I am having one of those days.

Now, I’m willing to bet that your first thought was “oh yeah it’s Monday” or “awww that sucks.” But, I’m not talking about one of THOSE days.

Don’t get me wrong, the calendar says it’s Monday, the monkeys managed to bust out mad karate moves on each other this morning, fight over the Wii remote (she that controls the remote rules the Netflix streaming) and we barely got eldest to school on time. Laundry mountain is close to having snow covered peaks. The thousands of emails I have in my inbox (literally and I’m so not proud of that number) that I need to get to and handle scare me, my plate is beyond full and if I pause long enough, I’m sure the feeling of overwhelmedness will start to creep in. I’ve been giving my To Do the list the stink eye for a while now as I fight to catch up on being sick for 6+ weeks and all I really want to do today is drive around and huggle people that I have not seen or talked to enough in far too long. Standard crazy, somewhat stressful morning.

You know what though? It’s a freakin awesome day. Why? Because we have a roof over our heads, food in our fridge and the monkeys and I love the mess out of each other. I’m pursuing my dream and there are people in my life that remind me how much I mean to them. Those that are on my huggle hit list know that I love them and get what I have been through and that I would be all up on them in full on huggle more often if I could. I guess simply put, I have amazing people in my life that love me despite of (and sometimes because of) my many flaws.

N O T H I N G. E L S E. M A T T E RS .

And all of this means that I’m back. I am back to 110% Natali again. Still a bit run down but OMG it feels SO FREAKIN good.

Honey, I’m hoooooooome. :)

Neurotic Lobby

2010-11-01T08:42:00.000-07:00

I know I’m a neurotic mom. I try to hide it well. Sometimes I’m really good at that, other times not so much. Now, I’m not saying if I ran with every neurotic thought that runs screaming into my noggin that my monkeys would end up living in plastic bubbles. Even I will admit I’m not THAT bad. Besides, I couldn’t really fit those in my highest safety rating family vehicle.

The monkeys are now 6 and almost 5 and rather bright lil girls. I know they need the room to start exhibiting some independence and I’ve been working on that. I’m all about it at home and in controlled environments and had been really proud about branching out. Over the summer I began to allow them to go into public bathrooms on their own. Meaning, I stand right outside the main bathroom door and they go in together, do what they need to do and come out. Until this past Tuesday, I thought this was a great way for them to feel like big girls and still remain safe.

I think it will be a long time before I do that again.

It started with a text from my sister shortly after 6:00pm. She’d ventured to Hobby Lobby and was texting me pictures of all the Christmas stuff they had up. When my alert went off again, expected to see a giant fur-trimmed, bright pink leopard prin stocking. Instead I received franticness. One of those brief moments that occurs that makes you question humanity. Or am I making too much out of it?

Here are the details:

She walked into the clearly labelled ladies room. Straight ahead was the open door to the handicapped stall, so she went in. Standing in the stall was a man peeing. If it were me, I’d have probably gasped and started apologizing. She just quietly backed out (thinking “oh shit I walked in the mens room!”) and went to find a male employee to tell him about the incident.
Now, there are some understandable reasons this may occur. Say, if it were a bar or there was a mental/cognitive handicap of some sort. Unfortunately neither of these were true. In fact this man actually worked for Hobby Lobby in loss prevention. Not only that, it’s his moonlighting job so-to-speak. His real job? Local law enforcement.

So…

A sober, male law enforcement agent walks into a clearly labelled women’s bathroom in a very family-orientated craft store in which he actually works IN LOSS PREVENTION (read he needs to know that store inside and out) and proceeds to leave the door completely open while he whips it out to pee. My almost 5 and 6 year old know the difference between the mens and womens bathrooms. They also know to close and lock the door when they are in a stall.

His response when confronted by my sister and the male employee “I thought I heard someone walk in.” That’s it. No “omg, I’m so sorry, I have no idea how that happened.” No remorse. No apology.

There is nothing in this that tells me this was just an accident. And it beyond creeps me out. I know that if I had been there and the girls had to tinkle, I would have let them go in while I stood outside the door. They would have gone straight to that stall because they could both go in it together. And they would have seen a grown man with his penis in his hand. They would have screamed, I would have run in and that guy would have been knocked the truck out by me. Forget the junkpunch. I would have been in full on mama bear mode. It would not have been pretty.

Am I overreacting? Is the neurotic in me running amuck? Do you think this was just some accident?

HELP! :)

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

2010-10-18T12:23:00.000-07:00

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

Okay, so it’s not really summer and it was far from a vacation. Maybe “Fun with Numbers” would have been a better title. Don’t worry, there will NOT be a quiz at the end of this. Whatever the title, the last 6-7 weeks have been a string of unpleasant adjectives like insane, draining, depressing, scary, confusing, painful. There have also been some very awesome moments too. Moments that have kept me from completely losing it. From losing me. I’ve been in this almost animated coma, like a lil zombie Natali. And whenever I had glimpses of me snapping out of it, I would get dragged back into it. One word I don’t use too often is hate. But I HATE not feeling like myself. Now that I’ve said that, I’m going to turn around and do something NonNatali. That’s right, instead of some long babbling post that gives you a big blow by blow of the last several weeks, I’m going to boil it down to basic facts. Facts that I realized this weekend as Zombie Natali started packing her bags.

In the last (we’ll just round it to 7) seven weeks I have:

Seen 4 different specialists and 2 different general practitioners

Had 3 trips to the hospital, 2 to urgent care, 2 to regularly scheduled doctor appointments.

Been on 7 different antibiotics- one that I found out the hard way I am VERY allergic to, one that was via shot in the booty which I understand they deemed necessary, but totally hurt like Hell and I am currently still on a 2 antibiotic combo cocktail now and for the next 4 days.

Gone through an entire bottle of calamine lotion and benadryl (see aforementioned allergy comment), 2 bottles of different narcotic based syrup thingies (I know that’s super technical and they weren’t nearly as fun as they sound), 3 different pain killers (sadly one was prescribed so that I could actually swallow the antibiotic without crying because my throat scared the doctor), 2 bottles of Ibuprofen, 1 bottle of Tylenol, 1 box of Sudafed, 1 1/2 boxes of Hojicha, 1/2 a box of this really nasty “cold repair” tea, 12 quarts of Cherry Pomegranate “Immunity” Crystal Light, a vast array of ramen and soup and I’m sure a bunch of other things I’m forgetting.

Faced the “c word”, “a really wicked case of the flu you poor thing”, strep throat, “at this point I’m suspecting a combination of things including walking pneumonia” and a couple of other lovely diagnoses. By the way, the people at my lovely urgent care here do NOT think it’s funny when you say “I’m fairly certain I may have the plague.” I thought the plague went out with like scurvy, but I guess it’s still around. And it triggers words like “Department of Public Health” and “HAZMAT.”

Had needles and scalpels accost me, fluids pulled out and pumped in. I like my fluids, I think I have them for a reason. I do NOT like scalpels. They are not very friendly.

Through all of this, I was under the delusion I was holding it all together somewhat. It seemed like every time I was finally starting to feel like myself again, something else would hit me. I managed to hold off the really nasty stuff until the weekends I did not have the monkeys. Until this past Monday. It would seem that the powers that be felt I needed to be knocked on my ass once and for all. So, enter 102.9 temp (which is more like 104 for someone whose “normal” temp is 97.3 ) , a nurse with a very, very large needle, another round of antibiotics and me literally just sleeping. For like a week. I barely remember packing eldest’s lunch for her everyday before my dad came to take her to school, but I guess I did. I missed my weekly UDC meeting and The Power Geeks Podcast. I pretty much just slept curled in a ball under 2 down comforters for days. I’ve slept more in the last week than I think I’ve slept in a year. Yet, I’m still tired. Go figure :)

I am sick and tired of being sick and tired and I miss me. I know I say I’m just Natali, but I’m the only Natali I have. When she disappears, it kinda sucks.

But, I feel her coming back. Friday night she came by for a very nice visit.

Then Saturday she stayed and played for awhile. My sister had called and basically told me it was time I got out of the house and she felt like a mini road trip. Of course it was already almost 7:30pm but she said the magic word- sushi. You see WISN, a local station does an “A list” every year of all the “best of…” I had peeked at it not long ago and was surprised that some little hole in the wall place in Kenosha took best of sushi. Now, you have to be from around here to kind of get the perplexity that out of all the great sushi restaurants in Milwaukee, some really upscale, and a lil place in Kenowhere takes it. So, we hauled on down to Soon’s Sushi Cafe and O M Freaking G. From the outside you think “no way this place has great anything,” Okay, even when you walk in, it’s not even remotely fancy. We were the only people there as they were closing at 9:30. I still don’t understand how the place wasn’t packed. The whole experience was bliss. It started with a green tea tini (so I maybe shouldn’t have had alcohol) and a giant plate of amazing sweet potato tempura. They specially made it all sweet potato for us and didn’t charge any extra. At $4.50 it was a total steal too. We then ordered a Spider Roll (an old fave of mine I hadn’t had in ages) and a Playboy Roll. I’m telling you this right now- it’s called the Playboy Roll because it makes love to your mouth. It was seriously the best roll of any kind I’ve ever had. Our waitress was awesome and her and I babbled away about… COMICS!! And the upcoming Green Lantern and SuperMan movies and the atrocity of the new Wonder Woman outfit and storyline. Then, the owner/head chef Soon came over. I wanted to put her in my pocket and take her home with me. Not only is she a phenomenal chef, but she is so sweet. Plus, even though she is actually from Korea, I got to actually converse in Japanese with her. It felt so good. Then, Brandy (You’re a fine girl) came on the radio. It was the chosen karaoke song of my really good friend Bob. It was the 5 year anniversary of his death recently. A death I’ve never really gotten over yet. But, that’s a whole other post. It just felt good to hear it. Our waitress then told us that little Soon is actually 72!! I’m telling you, she could make a fortune off those carnies that are supposed to guess your age cuz there is no way she looks even close to that. The food was great, the people there (Soon’s husband came by and chatted with us for quite a while too) rocked. I swear I’d drive down there again in a heartbeat than go to most of the trendy places around Milwaukee for sushi again. It is very much worth the trip. When we left, Soon kept bowing and said “Arigatou! Sayonara! Oyasuminasai!” and then giggle happily when I said “Matane!” :)

That night did me so much good. On the way home, we stopped by the hilariously odd place I spotted on the way there. It was called “Cafe de Lube” and no, it’s not a porn shop. It’s an oil change center and “coffee cafe” all in one. Complete with a drive thru and a sign boasting a huge discount for “recycling” electronic cigarettes there. It’s several blocks down from Tacos To Go that proudly serves “Mexican Egg Rolls” and “Italian Beef Burritos.” I now love you Kenosha. You make me smile.

It feels weird to interact with people now. I’ve lost touch with so many over the last several weeks. There have been some that have stuck with me through it all, repeatedly checking in on me. My inbox scares me more than ever now. I need to go through it. So, in the off chance you’re reading this and have sent me anything, I promise I’m getting to it! :)

I am now hopefully way on the way to being fully mended, trying to not freak out and become crippled with overwhelmedness (I think I just made that word up) about all the things on my plate at the moment and hoping Natali sticks around for awhile. :)

And that, my dears, is what I did on my summer vacation. Not even a new tan to brag about. :)

Gnork Pride

2010-09-11T15:52:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here at Intervention (Con not the show where someone is ending up in rehab) surrounded by some amazing talent and amazing people. Yet another congregation of people that get each other on some level even though they’ve never met. It’s so inspiring.

While I am still refraining from naming the names of the companies that decided they did not want to be “associated” with the words dork, geek or nerd, I don’t think I’m done with them yet. I still have a message to send them. Well, we have a message to send them. It’s a simple message really. In fact, we’ve been doing it all along.

We are who we are and we’re damn proud of it.

We’re not going to hide it anymore. We’re not going to try to fit into someone else’s mold or idea of who we should be.

Geek is gorgeous. Nerd is not negative. Dork is divine. Gnork is awesome cubed.

We have taken those terms that may have once been attempts at insult and we have fully embraced them and made them our own. We wear them proudly.

So how do we get the message to companies like that? How do we make our stand?

A friend’s answer to that? Oprah. That would totally work. You know who it made me think of though? E L L E N. Now, I have an immense respect for Oprah and what she’s accomplished. But I love Ellen. She is a giant ball of awesome that is definitely on my “Peeps I Want To Huggle Someday List.” I think if anyone gets embracing being quirky and different than the mainstream it’s definitely Ellen. She’s bravely looked peeps in the face and said “I am who I am” for years now.

I think Ellen would help us. Help us get UberDork Cafe and the message of gnork pride and gnork community out there for all to see. Whatdya think peeps? Do you think we can get Ellen on board? There’s only one way to find out. Let’s give it a shot.

Click here and fill out the form to tell Ellen you wanna see UberDork Cafe on the show!!

Some other great ways to help get the word out and get Ellen to notice:

Tweet “Hey @TheEllenShow! I wanna see @UberDorkGirlie & UberDork Cafe on!!”

Tweet the link out to your followers.

Share this on your Facebook page.

Tattoo it on your forehead and… wait no, that’s a bit much. :)

I know we can do this. I have faith in my community and faith in Ellen.

GNORKS UNITE!!!!!

Where The Truck?

2010-09-02T12:45:00.000-07:00

I’m not typically one that is really left at a loss for words. Yet, I’ve struggled a great deal writing this post. My life has been so centered on the UberDork Cafe (and it’s all good stuff in re: to that) that it has been far too long since I just wrote on here about life. I still am not sure what the “right” answer is in terms of use of my blog now. Me being me, it’s still a necessary outlet for me that I’ve missed and part of me feels that it shouldn’t affect the UDC as UDC is me too. We are intertwined. Many people that have supported UberDork Cafe have done so based on knowing me. Whatever the solution will eventually be, I felt I truly needed to write this post.

Where the truck have I been?

There is a long and gory answer to that, but there is definitely an overabundance of TMI in this world, so I’m going to do my best to not add to that. In short, about 2 weeks ago I started feeling ill. What started as something that seemed quite simple and no big deal really snowballed. The original treatment for the first ailment diagnosed was an antibiotic that, it turns out, I am pretty darn allergic to. In short- my hives had hives. I spent all of that weekend literally coated in Calamine lotion, doped up on Benadryl and trying my best to sleep so I wouldn’t scratch. It was BAD. There have since been follow up appointments. Then it was eldest monkey’s 6th birthday. So, still feeling so ill, I did my best to make sure her birthday (last Friday) and that whole weekend was nothing but awesome for her. Then came Monday and some exploratory work at the hospital. Exploratory work is so not fun. Then Wednesday eldest embarked on her first day of 1st grade. I had been battling with the school district to allow her to return to her school despite the insane redistricting that occurred and thankfully I won that one.

My goal over these last 2 weeks has been to try to make sure my girls don’t know I’m not well as best as possible and to be there for them. You see some of the possibilities health-wise that were mentioned were far from comforting. It really puts things in perspective. UberDork Cafe is still a HUGE priority in my life and there is news on that front as well. These last two weeks have forced me to take a step back from being as vocal and out in front about it though. Truthfully, when I think about it, part of it has to do with my survival mode as well. When things get super insane or hard, I tend to hide and deal with it. I’m so used to being the rock for many people in my life, yet not having a rock of my own that I tend to just hunker down and handle it on my own. Try to be my own rock. It takes so much for me to step up and say “I’m scared” or “I need help” or “I’m overwhelmed with life” or "I need you" and when I finally manage to do that and get kicked, the wounds and scars are pretty deep. Yup, I haz a big squishy. Especially when the bailing comes from people that tell me they love me. It’s a issue I’m trying to work through.

So, the results are in and part of the problem turns out to be some clusters of precanceous cells. I know the word “pre” is in front of that, but it’s still a pretty rough thing to hear. This weekend I will be undergoing a simple, yet painful and unpleasant, procedure that will hopefully eliminate all of them. I will then have to continue to be monitored closely to see if they are gone, if they come back, if they return with a vengeance, you name it. This weekend is gonna kind of really suck. But, I should be recovered by Monday or Tuesday and be coming back out the gate swinging!!

If I am up to it, one of my main goals is to catch up on emails and with everyone I have lost touch with and start bringing everyone up to speed on what is going on with UberDork Cafe. I should warn you though, there is a possibility that it may turn into a couple of days of me drooling on my couch in a small Vicodin coma. But, I will be thinking of you while drooling! Ok, that sounds a lil creepy.

The last two weeks have taught me so much about myself, my daughters, the people closest to me in my life and what I am capable of. In this time I had someone call me “beautifully flawed.” Some that heard that took it as insulting, I didn’t. I know the person that said it adores me and they meant well. I see it as their way of reiterating my theory of the fact that I am a continual work in progress. We all are really. If we are not striving to learn, to grow, to improve, than what is the point?

I am honestly very sorry that I’ve upped and disappeared while going through this. It wasn’t my intent more of a knee-jerk reaction. When juggling so much with so little energy, balls get dropped. And I was the clown that couldn’t juggle, so I’m at a disadvantage. I make really kick ass balloon animals though. :)

Bear with me for just a bit longer and I promise I will be back and annoying the mess out of you as soon as possible. Oh, and I get really spazzy on Vicodin for like 45 min and then turn into the narcoleptic chick from Deuce Bigalow so, if you see some crazy tweets/posts/etc from me- it’s the Vicodin talking!!!

*huggles*

One of the songs the "beautifully flawed" person associates with me. :)

Damn the Man! Save the Empire!

2010-08-25T07:09:00.000-07:00

For this last week and a half or so I have been pretty sick. After finally getting antibiotics for it, I ended up breaking out in hives from head to toe from them. My hives had hives. Soooo not attractive. Soooo not comfortable. I had hit the brick wall of burnt out.

Until last night.

I’m still wiped and still dealing with health issues, but it’s time to pick up the #truthbat again. This time, surprisingly, for the cafe. For everyone that believes in it.

You see, I have a weekly conference call every Tuesday night for the UberDork Cafe. I look forward to them for many reasons. What I learned last night floored me. Saddened me. When the shock of it all wore off, it downright pissed me off.

I’ve always proudly embraced the titles geek, nerd, dork. One of the many amazing lessons that I have learned on this incredible journey of UberDork Cafe is that us gnorks still tend to hide who we are. Stay in our lil corners of the online world and don’t tend to venture beyond that. Part of the whole goal of the cafe has been to give us a place to go to. To branch out from those corners. To give our future gnorks a place to go to meet others and to actually be able to comfortably be themselves in a place within the community, the real life community. To teach them and us that we don’t need to hide who we are. There is no shame in being geeks, nerds, dorks.

Last night I realized I might be wrong.

It might not be a fluke that there is nothing really like the UberDork Cafe out there. The fact that we tend to hide may not really be our fault. It seems others are more comfortable when we are contained to online. We may come out if we must, but we shall not refer to ourselves as dorks, or geeks or nerds. It makes others uncomfortable it seems.

Last night I was informed that major corporate sponsors of the first auction completely backed out. Why? Well, during initial contact the full name UberDork Cafe was used. From that point on it was shortened to UDC or “the cafe.” Then they got the press kit yesterday. These major corporations then stated that I would need to change the name of the cafe for them to follow through with sponsoring. Yup. They don’t like “dork.” And yeah, don’t try to replace it with nerd or geek either. Those simply won’t do as well. One of these major corporations makes a great deal of money off of us gnorks as well.

My response? (Ok, well the edited version, I won’t lie, there was A LOT of cussing on my behalf initially.)

Dear Giant Corporate People,

Shame on you. Shame on you for so very many reasons. For thinking you could just buy a name. For thinking you have that sort of power over people still. For thinking that us dorks, us nerds, us geeks are that weak that we would hide who we are, change who we are to suit your comfort. For being more than willing to take our money as long as we remain safely tucked away from view and deny who we are. For thinking that you somehow own us. For thinking that in this day and age discrimination is ok, as long as it has a price tag on it. For thinking that I am the type of person that is going to just roll over, change my entire character and teach my children that it is acceptable to allow a company, or even a person, to force you to change your name, your character, or who you are for them.

Allow me to enlighten you. Dork, nerd, geek… in your feeble minds may be words that show weakness or less than desirable characteristics. I hate to break this to you, but the term “corporate” invokes far worse feelings amongst a vastly wider population of people. People that span all age levels, races, income brackets, you name it. Do you know why that is? Because of things like this. Because you still live under the antiquated notion that bigger is always better. That money will buy you anything, anyone. I hate to break it to you, but it really doesn’t. In fact, it won’t even buy you one lil ole dork.

I’m not for sale. My children’s dream is not for sale. My friends, my family, the people that support this dream, that support the UberDork Cafe are not for sale.

And we certainly aren’t going anywhere. If anything, you’ve just made us a bit louder. A bit more present.

Thanks so much for reinforcing the need for the UberDork Cafe. Your shameful behavior has made my mission that much stronger.

Have a wonderful day!

Sincerely,
Natali
Proudly known as UberDork Girlie

The Epic Gift That Keeps On Giving

2010-08-18T05:38:00.000-07:00

It's been almost a year now since I have written my "Yup, I've Got Boobies" post. To date it is the scariest, most emotional post I've ever written. Yes, even more so than the one outlining me standing there with a knife in my hand staring a stalker through my patio door. Breast cancer is far scarier than any stalker.

As soon as that post went up, my awesome tribe of geek girls responded with an outpouring of love and support that went beyond just RT's. That's how we roll. One laughs, we all laugh. One cries, we cry too- then whip out whatever we can to make that turn to laughter. One makes a stand, we stand behind her.

We are strong. We are geek. We have boobies. We use our powers for good.

And I am so proud to announce that we have banded together to create a project for the cause. Coming your way soon...

The #BoobieWed Geek Girls Edition Calendar

There are more than 250,000 women living in this country that were diagnosed with breast cancer under that age of 40. That does not account for the thousands that did not detect it early enough and lost their battles with breast cancer as a result.

The strongest weapon in beating breast cancer is early detection. That is the fuel behind this project- driving home the importance of it and reminding women (and yes men) to check their breasts regularly and remind those in their life to do so as well.

For more information please visit the amazing organization Young Survival Coalition.

And stay tuned for more to come on the Epic Gift That Keeps On Giving.

Now go give 'em a squeeze and make sure they're happy!!!

Remember #BoobiesAreStrongerThanTheForce But they still need to be checked.

There Will Always Be Huggles

2010-08-14T07:27:00.001-07:00

With any luck, the average person can expect a plethora of amazing moments throughout their lifetime. Of course that may vary a bit based on your definition of amazing and being open to recognizing it when ya see it. Life-changing moments, well those can be even harder sometimes. Sometimes you don’t even know they happen. You make a wrong turn by “accident,” cuss yourself out for it for like 10 minutes for doing so and never realize that had you not done that, the guy leaving the bar three sheets to the proverbial wind would have plowed into you head on in a few blocks. Sometimes they are obvious and easy- they arrive on your front door step wrapped in a bow with a tag. And sometimes they lurk in the distance. You see it sitting there, but you have to cross a big unknown without any idea how long it will take to get there and if it will be all that you thought it was once you do. Those take some courage to go for.

In the last 60+ days, I have leveled up like mad in the amazing moments and have recognized, embraced and am running full force with my life-changing moment.

And if you are reading this, odds are quite good you’ve been along for the ride and helped me level up. Thank you so very much.

I know I may sound a bit broken recordish when I say how in awe I have been with all the support of every kind that I have received. I’m also sure there’s a couple of you that may wanna smack me in the back of the head for repeating “I just wanna huggle each and every one of you.” But, I whole-heartedly mean it all.

I can’t believe how quickly these 60 days have gone. July 17th, the night I hit goal, will be forever etched in my memory so vividly. Part of me thought things would slow down when it occurred. Silly me, I swear they’ve sped up. In fact, I know they did. Juggling everything has been such a challenge for me. My relatively boring life has been beyond shaken up with so many different things. Things I am very, very grateful for. Balancing it all is my new goal. Because the girls are so excited about UberDork Cafe, sharing everything I’m working on with them has lead to some great family time. It has also lead to two mini business women who can crack a pretty rough whip sometimes. There are definitely some people I value immensely in my life I need to reconnect with though because this last month I haven’t been around for them nearly as much as I usually am and should be.

So, goal and step number one at this point for me is to work on balancing and juggling better. I know that’s not exciting stuff, but it’s honest and it’s necessary. One of the most important lessons I’ve fought to maintain in my life is to always be me, to be true to myself. That means through bad times and good. When I start to slip away from that, I feel horrible. I don’t do well at not being me. When I get burnt out and lose touch with people I care about, I not only am not true to myself , I am a bad example for my girls. Lil self #truthbatting there. : )

The next step in regards for UberDork Cafe is to properly thank my backers and my supporters. The web site is in the process of being completely revamped and built out to help me with that. It will also be the portal for all the news and updates going on with the Cafe. And there are soooo many things coming up!!

The Kickstarter Project was Phase I of the fundraising toward opening doors. It will go a long way in prepping and getting things set in stone that need to be. But, it is far from what I need in total to get the doors open. The next Phase brought me to tears when someone came forward with it. (I know the tears part at this point with me is not so shocking, but trust me- it’s HUGE!) I will be announcing it this weekend on the site. And I’ll make sure to get links out to that everywhere for you to see.

Wow, I just realized this is such a very different post from me. In my quirky way I do tend to self reflect, but not so seriously. Hee hee I’m sure you were expecting a “OMG THANK YOU SOOO MUCH!! I WANT TO HUG YOU ALL!!” post. Trust me, I can’t even being to thank you all for not only getting the concept and all that is UberDork Cafe, but believing in it and in me. For being with me on this trek across the big unknown. If you read my “I Haz A BIG Love” post, you know how much it all means to me, how much you, my community, mean to me.

And there will always, always be huggles.

I Haz a BIG Love

2010-08-11T06:31:00.000-07:00

These last two weeks have been insanely busy, mostly in a really good way. As a result of juggling it all, I have been kind of missing in action online and for that I am truly sorry. I have really missed it too. So what the heck have I been up to??

Well… I found a place, though I’m still working on making it a signed, done deal. I’ve been doing some interviews with some amazing people that it still floors me would want to interview me and I’ve been working on the major announcement that will be made late Friday night. That announcement will include the next phase for UberDork Cafe. Oh! And I’ve been making and sending out my Woookiee Cookies now that they are available via the web site.

The Kickstarter page is now down to HOURS. They don’t even mark it in days at this point. With 51 hours to go (though it will most likely be 50 by the time I get this done, proof it neurotically a zillion times and post it) and 108 BEYOND AWESOME backers, the total sits at $6,480. I can’t begin to tell you how that number makes me feel. How all those numbers make me feel. To know that so many people support this, support me so much still gets me teary. My goal for the next 51(ish) hours is to get the word out as much as I can. The higher we get that number, the quicker this all goes. I’m not going to lie, I wish I was opening doors tomorrow. That I had the Wall of Love done and up and huggable. That I had each and everyone of you ready to walk in the door and share the big moment with me when it’s all 100% real.

This past weekend I made the trip down to Indy for Gen Con. I ended up leaving late Friday night and driving straight through. I was exhausted when I arrived, but giddy. The whole way down I had music people had suggested and one whole CD @dirty_saint made me. I LOVE Mixed Tapes! So, I didn’t feel even remotely alone on the trip. Then, I had @CapSteveRogers call to check on me right when I had to detour because some crazy lil Hwy 912 was closed. I was literally sitting on a dead end road by some railroad tracks wonderin where the heck I was when my phone rang. He navigated me back on a new route in no time. Our fearless @ThePowerGeeks host @DarthMolen also made me promise to call if I started getting sleepy and he’d talk to me the whole way there. Of course, by talking, he means picking on…but it’s the thought.

Saturday morning, I arrived and went to check in and get my press pass (THANK YOU @ThePowerGeeks!!). Before doing so, I started to fulfill my mission- I got to FINALLY actually huggle @NicoleWakelin! Into the press room we went! After hitting the press table for goodies, I turned around and @CapSteveRogers and @PeacockPub (who had ventured in with me) were sitting there with “O EM GEE” looks on their faces. Yup, sitting like two seats away was @FeliciaDay. Epicness already!! Right after that, I got to huggle the mess outta @KatieDoyle again and on to complete my mission. Whipping through the giant exhibit hall filled with so much awesomeness, I had but one goal.. to make it to the @G33kMade booth. When I did, I finally got to huggle my girls @GeekSoap and @KyleeLane. Whatever happened at that point during the weekend would be the proverbial icing on the cupcake. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love my sisters. Yeah, I called them sisters cuz it’s that deep.

Saturday morning was spent walking around with my peeps. Spending actual real life time with them and it was just as if we’d known each other forever. Exhausted, we made our way back to the G33k Made booth and I froze. Standing there before it was Wil Wheaton. With a ridonkilously huge grin on his face as well. I slipped on over and just started taking pictures. @wilw literally hung out there for quite a while. My favorite part of the whole entire weekend was listening to him talk to Lesley (the gorgeousness behind Geek Soap) and Kylee (the gorgeousness behind Luxury Lane Soaps). And then it happened. I swear Wil was gushing. He explained to Lesley and Kylee how amazing they were, how original and creative and refreshing Geek Made is. Then he told them how very proud he was of them. Wil, my dear, I have to say I agree with every single word that came out of your mouth. Lesley, Kylee and all the people they feature on G33kMade are what UberDork Cafe is about. SUPPORTING OUR GEEK COMMUNITY!! The things that can be accomplished when we team up! Well awesomesauce is just weak. We’re gonna have to invent a new word. I really need to state that Lucas, Lesley’s husband and Rory, Kylee’s husband freakin also rock in their own rights. Kick ass geek guys supporting the mess outta their gals is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Later that day, Katie and I made our way through the parade of Cos Players (huge props to all of them!!) and back to the press room to sit and charge phones. There was some chef guy doing an interview with someone from Gen Con. It took everything in me not to stand up and scream “WTF!?!??!” In the short 10 min interview I heard some insanely horrible stereotypes come out of his mouth. “Ya know, at least the board game people have to get out and be social, not like those video gamers that sit locked in their houses by themselves playing their games all day and night.” SERIOUSLY??? “Well, I’ve seen some actual females here so maybe this generation of girls will start to break into this whole gaming thing.” WHAT!?!?!?! Some????? Start??? As painful as it was to listen to, it was a much needed dose of reality.

It drives home how important G33k Made is. How important UberDork Cafe is. How important WE ALL ARE. We’re not some group of freaks to come gawk at. We are a ginormous ball of freakin’ amazingness that, well if they don’t get it, they can kiss my big ole lily white ghetto booty. We ALL have geek in us. We ALL have nerd in us. We ALL have dork in us. Whether we embrace it or not. Why mock those that do?

So, I say we show the chef dbag’s of the world a lil something. I say we show them our gnork. Show them our love for each other. Show them what we are capable of as a community. Show them that if they don’t support us, we are just fine. WE HAVE EACH OTHER TO SUPPORT US. We get it.

And UberDork Cafe will be our lil physical safe haven. Our place to hang, to game, to learn, to chillax. Our continual con. Open all year round and passes never sell out.

Yeah, I haz a BIG love for my family. My family of gorgeous geeks/nerds/dorks. And to pull out one of my lilest’s quotes from an older post of mine “Yo! I gots your love right here!!”

Show G33k Made some love HERE!

Show UberDork Cafe some love HERE!

Let’s keep this BIG love going!!

MWUAH!

P.S. Some more love ya can show…

The Power Geeks
Cap Steve Rogers- amazing freelance designer
Nicole Wakelin- just plain amazing
Action Flick Chick
Game Couch
Geek Girls Network
Geek With Curves
GeekBoy Presents
Geek Girl Diva
Geek Shui
Giant Fire Breathing Robot
Girls Are Geeks
Has Boobs Reads Comics
Naked Hobo
Pop Bunker
Reality Amuck
Rock The Lan
Shiny Lines (I NEED THE GEEKBREEDER MUG!!)
The Carnival of Random
Troll in the Corner

I’m sure I’m forgetting all kinds of love. I’m scatter brained right now pretty, pretty please forgive me!

46 Days, 100 Backers, a Whole Lotta Love and YOU

2010-07-30T07:39:00.000-07:00

If physical structures could be built on love alone, there would be a string of UberDork Cafes open all across this world by now. Open, bustling and radiating more #GeekLove. I don’t know that I will ever be able to find the exact words to describe all the emotions this journey has conjured up.

What has started as my crazy lil idea to create a place for my daughters and my community has turned into so much more. Part of me would like to print out the Kickstarter Project pages, the comments, the statistics, every tweet, every amazing blog post, every kind word of support and encouragement and show it to the world. I would say “Look! Look at what this community is capable of! Look at the love! Look at the support! Look at all of these amazing people! Look at what you’ve overlooked! What you have underestimated!!” It is not just the group of people that has been overlooked and underestimated, it’s the power of love, the power of community.

The very thing that UberDork Cafe will exist to nurture, to support and to encourage.

From Apple’s “Think Different” to Einstein’s “Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning. “ to Yoda’s “Do or do not, there is not try” – these things have shaped who I am in life. Who a lot of us are. They are concepts sadly often drowned out by media, by peers encouraging conformity while growing up, by adults that don’t get it staring down noses and speaking of “the right way” to do things.

This is my way of helping cease that. Media will still be media, peers will still be peers, adults will still be adults. But, we will all have a place to go, our future will have a place to go, that encourages us to simply be us. To embrace who we are, to let it hang out, to help our youth navigate through to be proud of who they are and confident in pursuing their true goals in life. The things that make us all happy.

There are just two weeks left now. Because of all of you I have made my goal. Which I am beyond grateful for. Part of me feels greedy to ask for more. But all of the voices that have come forth with “If only I had a place like this when I was growing up” and “I really need a place like this near me” make me want this open tomorrow. And those that have said “I have been scared to go for my dream for so long, but you have inspired me to go back to it and really pursue it” make me want it open yesterday. The simple fact is to make this happen as quickly as possible, I still need your help, your support. We are currently at $6130 with two more weeks to go. Just imagine what we can do in two more weeks!! Can we reach 200 backers?? $8,000?? Can we blow this completely out of the water?? I think we can!

I can not tell you how excited I will be the day I can stand up inside of the finished, open UberDork Cafe and say:

“Look what WE did!!”

If you’ve been following along, or know me at all, you know that the Wall of Love is going to be my absolute favorite part of this whole place. I will hug it every day and may the Force be with anyone who tries to deface it.

So, from a place for my daughters to go and a community to be nurtured and hope to be given, this has turned into the physical representation of what a community can do when they believe in something, when they believe in themselves.

To those that don’t believe, well my girls and I proudly stick our tongues out at you, wrinkle our noses and then smile and wave are lil geek/nerd/dork flags. And we are honored to have an entire community standing behind us doing the same.

“Life's like a movie, write your own ending. Keep believing, keep pretending. “ ~Jim
Henson

To join the lovers, the dreamers, the community, click here to visit the Kickstarter Project Page.

It Has To Start Somewhere

2010-07-06T05:08:00.000-07:00

During two recent interviews I was asked “Why? Why should people who don’t live in Milwaukee, who can’t walk into the UberDork Cafe when it opens back this project?” It occurred to me that it may be a good idea to share this with you all. It seems in all the excitement I may have overlooked that.

UberDork Cafe is more than just a cafe. More than just a place to game. More than just a place to learn. More than just a place for people like me and my daughters- the geeky, the nerdy, the dorky. It’s more than just the dream of one place. At the root, the dream is much bigger than that. It’s about nurturing a community.

I am fortunate to have always had a strong sense of self. From a really early age on, I knew who I was. I also knew that I didn’t quite fit in, but I was ok with that. Though it was not always easy, I have always proudly waved my geek/nerd/dork flag. Being a gnork was just a big part of who I was and am. It’s not based on a set of interests, there’s no test for it, there’s no cred or badge to earn or mark you are born with. If you are one, you just get it. Though “the geek shall inherit the earth” is a phrase most can get behind, there are many who still hide their lil flags. That hide who they are or downplay it because those around them wouldn’t get it.

No matter who you are, there comes a time, even just an instance, in all our lives where we feel like we don’t quite fit in. That there are people that may get parts of us, but not all of us. To feel truly understood is an amazing feeling. To have someone understand it all and nurture it is even more amazing.

Growing up, my parents accepted who I was. Which was a big help. But they will be the first to tell you that they never understood me. “You were just so different from us or your sister.” Being accepted and being nurtured are two very different things. The nurturing I received was at school, from teachers. I lucked out.

Now, we live in a time where programs are being cut left and right. Arts and extra curricular activities that are non athletic are the first to be affected by this. “Gifted and talented” programs are being eliminated, as are “accelerated” classes. Opportunities like I had are dwindling. It’s even worse in the inner cities. Many have never had these programs to begin with. So a cycle perpetuates from generation to generation.

Right now, in Milwaukee, in cities across this country, in a city close to YOU there are children and teens that need a place to go. A place that understands them. A place that supports them. A place that believes in them. There are parents that have lil gnorks of their own that are looking for places to take them to help nurture who they are. There are adults that want to have a place where they can wave their lil flags.

UberDork Cafe is that place.

I believe in my community. I believe in nurturing our inner gnorks and our future gnorks. I believe in providing a place that teens can affordably hang out at instead of the streets, or locked away in basements with their secret gnorky interests and dreams. Where they can meet other people who share their same interests. Where they can turn to in hopes of earning a scholarship that will continue to nurture their gnorky dreams. Scholarships that may lead to the person that develops your next favorite game, favorite comic book, favorite gadget that makes your life so much easier.

I believe in a place where kids can be kids. A place that parents can take them for fun classes that don’t cost an arm and a leg. A place where they can take classes with them. A place where people old and young can leave the world at the doorstep, walk inside and just be themselves. A place that reminds you of the importance of play. The importance of imagination. The importance of letting your flag fly.

We ALL need a place like that. It has to start somewhere- why not here?

And to all the people that have asked “When are you going to open one in…..” The answer is- let’s get this one open and successful. WHEN that happens, I promise you more.

It all has to start somehow, why not with $1.00? How much is your community worth to you?

Click here to visit the UberDork Cafe Kickstarter Project Page and show your support.

Just A Dork With A Dream

2010-06-15T05:12:00.000-07:00

One of the best feelings in the world is that which you get when something just fits. That comfy old T- shirt you’ve had for 10 years, hearing the perfect song on the radio that says everything going through your head at the time, snuggling in on the couch with the person that just gets you. A moment in time that makes you feel at home. That lil sigh with a dash of giddiness one feels when things just fit right freakin’ rocks.

It was the search for a place for my monkeys and I that would give us that feeling when we walked in that has lead to UberDork Café. It’s a giant quirky chunk of me. I once had a very good friend tell me that I “suffer from poor marketing.” He further explained that I call myself a dork, I look like a dork, but I’m so much more than that. He’s right. I am a great many different things. But, I am still totally a dork. And as I am always true to form, Uberdork Café is so much more than just the café of an UberDork. Getting to know UberDork Café is like getting to know me. So allow me to introduce you to us.

In essence, UberDork Cafe is Art + Science= Geek in a family-friendly environment that supports local vendors and artists, the earth and gives back to the community not only by providing a safe place for youth to play and learn, but also in financially assisting future Art + Science= Geeks.
I can see the “huh?” bubble over some of your heads, don’t worry, Imma break it down more for you.

Café- Yuppers there will be coffee, geeky baked goodness and a simple but delish menu. Complete with grown up “happy meals.” Which I will of course have to change the name of so Mc Donald’s doesn’t try to sue my lil ole self. But, us grown ups deserve toys too! Oh and of course plenty of snacky “gaming food.”
Family-Friendly- Having a kid’s menu, some crayons and high chairs doesn’t necessarily mean kid-friendly. The goal is to have them, have families, feel welcomed. The plan is to have an actual kid’s section. Optional of course. But, an area where kids can sit and eat and play. With a menu that is more than just chicken fingers and fries.
Supporting Local Vendors and Artists- While my motivation may have been my monkeys, it’s all about my community as well. The goal is to use as many local vendors as possible. To showcase local artists and talent as well. Whether it’s someone guest-teaching a class, hosting a local knitting group, a comic artist lecture or meet and greet or allowing local artists to exhibit and sell their works, there will be much opportunity to support the great vendors and artists that my community (both in location and in spirit) has to offer.

The Earth- UberDork Café will strive to be the greenest business it can be in every sense of the environmental term.

Safe Place to Play and Learn- Besides the café section, the other two parts that make up UberDork Café are a game room and a classroom. Play is an important part of life that we adults tend to lose sight of as we grow. One of my goals is to not only nurture that play but bring it back to those that have forgotten it. No matter what your controller of choice looks like, no matter how many sides your favorite die has, no matter how your board is shaped, UberDork Café will embrace and try to offer it. Come roll how you want to roll. Play how you want to play. And for those of you who may have forgotten, there will be classes. Art and science classes that families can take together, adults and kids may take alone and all will be adaptable to those with special needs. (Yup, I was once a special ed art teacher. Which is something not many people know. It was also one of the best jobs I’ve ever had.) And if you’ve been eying up a 360 but have never owned a console before, well we’ll give ya an intro to it. Always wanted to tackle DnD but were scared to be a noob? We’ll cover ya too.

Financially Assisting Future Art + Science = Geeks- I’m a giver. It’s just part of who I am and one of my favorite parts of my goal with UberDork Café is to help foster our future. Each year, UberDork Café will offer three scholarships. They may not be huge at first, but hopefully they will grow. The basic criteria to qualify for these scholarships are simple. 1. The student has to be from the inner city. The reasoning behind this is I want to support those that are often under-supported. Those that often get lost in the shuffle. Those that could use someone to look them in the eye and say “I believe in you.” b. The student must be going on to pursue further schooling in: Video Game Design/Development, Science and lastly a Geek Girl.

So welcome to UberDork Café and welcome to me. ☺

Now just when will we be able to hang out at the awesomeness that is UberDork Café? (hee hee)

Believe it or not, a lot of that depends on YOU. Yup, YOU. If you read my last blog, you will know that UberDork Café was selected as a Kickstarter Project. One that launches oh…. TODAY!!!!

The fun of Kickstarter is this- I get to promote my project any nonspammy way I can. The more awareness I get it, the more chance I have of people seeing it and thinking “Jinkies that sounds swell, lemme back it with $1, $10… etc.” And when people back the project, they can get fun UberDork Café stuffs for doing so.

What does that mean? What can I do?

I thought you’d never ask. >;-)

Simple answer- as much or as lil as you’d like.

This means you can go big by visiting The UberDork Cafe Kickstarter Project Page and backing it.

You can go medium by helping me spread the word by passing on the link via any way you’d like (email, twitter, facebook, airplane flown over baseball stadium with banner, racing carrier pigeons, etc.) Here's the link: Http://www.tinyurl.com/UberDorkCafe

You can go small by following @UberDorkCafe and/or it’s lil home on Facebook.

Or you could go wild by shaking it up and trying various combinations of all of them. #geeksdorksandnerdsgonewild

As I write this I am a total ball of excitement and a terrified mess. This is my dream. And it’s possibly one GIANT step closer to becoming a reality. None of this would be possible without the support I have already received from some REALLY great people. People that get my vision, that get what UberDork Café is all about and are wonderful enough to believe in me. There are far too many to list here but there are two that CAN NOT go unmentioned. @CapSteveRogers and @GeekWithSoul. When I was at my wits end with being too close to this to come up with a logo, they stepped in and completely kicked ass. Both have come up with a variation of the logo that I will be using. One for larger scaled projects, one for smaller things where the lil graphic element of me will be lost. And I completely LOVE them. The logos and the guys behind them are beyond awesomesauce. Thank you and the giant tally of *huggles*tm they have coming there way don’t even begin to cover it.

Thank you all for believing in a café that is more than just the café of an UberDork and a gal that is more than just a dork with a dream.

*MWUAH!*

The Lovers, The Dreamers & My Dorky Ass

2010-06-08T05:56:00.000-07:00

This next post was going to be all about my lil dream. The giant, quirky chunk of me called UberDork Café.

But, that is going to have to wait until the next post. By the end of this, you’ll understand why.

This one is about what I learned today. (Well, Friday which is when this is being written. Ok, being started. Jinkies I’m behind!)

A big chunk of the joy that is UberDork Café has been a dream of mine for quite some time. A dream that I have shared with very few people. There are a couple of reasons for this. What it all boils down to though is this- although I’m very much a “this is me and I’m pretty darn proud of me” kind of gal, this is SO important to me, I have been scared. Scared to share it. Scared to hear what others have to say. Scared to have to actually be the one in the front of the project, rather than hiding in the background. Scared to take that leap of faith- in myself. I walk into walls, so leapin, yeah could have disastrous results.

But I did. Arg. Alright #truthbat. I had only taken the running start toward the leap. You know what though, the more people I told, the faster I ran. The more of a reality I made it by setting up the Twitter and Facebook accounts for it, the faster I ran.

Then last week @NakedHobo (who really has been a huge support to me and UberDork Café) told me about kickstarter.com. I spent Memorial Day combing through the site. Mesmerized by all the great projects on there. Kickstarter is a platform for people to use to raise funds to kickstart their projects. Books, artwork, band’s first CD’s, independent films, a bicycle operated butter churner, a mobile gluten-free bakery, all sorts of ridonkilously kick ass stuff. All sorts of people dreaming big, audacious dreams right along with me. All sorts of people seeking to make changes in the world in their own small way. It’s so beautiful.

The gist of Kickstarter is this- you submit your project idea to them (after making sure it fits their guidelines). Once they approve/accept it, you pick a goal amount (i.e. $5,000) and a time frame (i.e. 60 days). You then set your project profile up and work it. It’s up to YOU to get the word out and get people to visit and back (i.e. pledge/donate/show you some monetary love) it.

Here’s the twitst- they get fun stuffs, set up by you, as a reward for baking your project. So maybe, just maybe if someone were to choose to back UberDork Café at the $10.00 level, should I be accepted per my proposal to them, you’d get a pocket protector with the UberDork Café logo on it. Just maybe. Now, if you make your goal amount by the goal date- you keep it. If you raise more, yuppers you keep that too. But, if you don’t – you don’t get anything. That’s right. But, the backers don’t get charged either then so they are not out any money. Which means YOU have to put in the effort to reach your goal

So, Memorial Day evening, I hunkered down, crossed my toes and hit “submit” with my project information. Then I took a ginormously deep breath and waited. Wednesday night I got a response. Again…deeeeep breath. I clicked on my message and read it.

I read a giant “yeah, thanks but no so much.” I was crushed. Then, as I read it for the 123rd time, I was pissed at their reasoning. There were many projects up that fit the reason for “might not be a good fit” they had given me. I moped. I stewed. I freaked. I pouted. I cried.

I then refused to take no for an answer.

Around half past midnight, I sent my retort. I swallowed hard and fought the urge to come at them with both guns blazing. After all, this was my dream, my child in some ways and I get full on mama bear over my kids. Instead though, I chose to reclarify my project addressing their points of concern. And I stuck to my case. I boiled it down to its essence even more. I told them, I know this seems quirky, I know this is a big, audacious dream, but I believe in it. I believe in me.

Holy shit, lemme say that one more time- I believe in me.

While I waited to uncross my toes again, I revisited an old friend of sorts. A man that changed my life in a lot of ways. A man by the name of Kevin Carroll. If you know me really well, you know who Kevin is because I share him and his message with those that I love. Because I believe in them. If you’ve met me, you’ve seen the dream band I wear to remind myself of his message. A message so amazing that you have to hear from him. I cannot do it justice here. I simply can’t. But, here’s a lil bit of it to get you started and PLEASE, if you want to hear more, know more, get a dream band to remind yourself of your red rubber ball (Kevin sent me a bunch of them) let me know.

And Friday around 12:30, I heard back.

“Congratulations! Welcome to Kickstarter!!”

HELLS YEAH!!!

Turns out they believe in my red rubber ball too.

So, the lesson I learned is to believe in my self, my big, audacious dream, my red rubber ball that is UberDork Café.

And my dorky ass has definitely leaped.

Stay tuned for my next blog, my kickstarter project page and all that is UberDork Café. Because, I believe in me, in it and in all us crazy big, audacious dream dreamers out there.

The Lights Are On, But No One's Home

2010-05-28T04:52:00.000-07:00

It’s safe to say that the #truthbat will be around for quite some time. I want to again thank @Jennie_Z and @Sabalo for introducing me to the #truthbat. If it were not for them, I would not be swinging it at all. While it will not be in every blog post, I have vowed to whip it out and use it as needed.

Trust me, it’s needed.

Before I get to swinging it, I have learned a new truth. I did call the person I was afraid to in the last post out. Just a tap, really, not even a full swing. She first responded with a “hee hee oops” type response. While I was pondering how to retort, she deleted her responses, unfollowed me and then completely ignored me questioning her why she would do that. So… lesson learned…

Running from the #truthbat doesn’t make the truth any less true.

And that’s ok. People can run, people can hide, people can dance around it and pull every excuse known to man out of their ass. But eventually, THE TRUTH ALWAYS COMES OUT. #truthbat In reality peeps, we all need to learn to put our big kid panties on, suck it up and take the hit sometimes. Be a man. Be a woman.

Acknowledge the fuck up, learn the lesson and make the changes to prevent it from happening again. Anything else is just cowardly bullshit.

I try my hardest to look at every situation in life as a learning experience. Sometimes it takes the worst situation to make the most valuable truths known. Truths we don’t want to see, truths we may even have prayed to not ever know. I would much rather be hit with the #truthbat though than have someone lie to me. It may hurt like hell and I may swear the sting will never truly go away, but it always does. And it’s better than living a lie.

Life is a tricky thing in and of itself. If it is enough to drive you crazy, love (or lust) is that which will put one completely over the edge. There is a reason for the phrase “crazy in love.” It has the power to make sane, normal people do epically stupid shit. It also has the power to make those that are slightly off kilter go full on fucking psycho.

Now is the time to toss away everything Hollywood and Disney have taught you. Don’t look at me like that. Hells yeah happy endings exist. But you can’t force them, or love for that matter, no matter how badly you want IT or that other person.

NO male or female is worth going bat shit stalker crazy over. Period. #truthbat

Seriously.

Ok, I have been swinging the #truthbat for other people and AT myself. This actually has some of me swinging it FOR myself. That’s something I just don’t do. I don’t stand up for myself a whole lot. But, it’s about damn time I do.

I gotta say over the last few weeks I have seen some guys and gals pull some universally stupid shit for and to the opposite sex. Some has been at a distance, the most messed up has shown up on my doormat and at the end of the post you’re going to have to put up with me yelling “GET THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN!” a bit because yeah, I gotta stand up for me. In the mean time, let the swinging begin….

Now, we KNOW when things aren’t working or they are really not interested. We choose to ignore it though. We cover our eyes and pretend the #truthbat isn’t there.

WE NEED TO START VALUING OURSELVES MORE. #truthbat

Why the hell would you WANT someone that doesn’t want you? Why would you chase and chase and try and try and ignore and ignore? Hell or stalk and stalk? It’s just not worth it. In the end, what do you get? IF you manage to get/keep that person, are they there out of fear? Just cuz you wore them the hell down and they gave up? Or worse, because they know you’re always going to be their safety net?

THEY ARE NOT MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU #truthbat

Every chase, every sign ignored is a chip away from your self-respect. Keep chipping away and you’ll end up that crazy person we’ve all seen. NO ONE IS WORTH THAT. #truthbat No one is worth the stress, the anxiety. Forget trying to save them or save the relationship, you gotta start by saving yourself. In the event of an emergency, please place the oxygen mask on yourself before attempting to help the passenger next to you.

After all that I have been privy to, listened to, been a crying shoulder for and witnessed myself over these weeks, there are some basic, universal signs I need to #truthbat into some skulls. Most of these are truths that apply to ALL relationships mind you. Not just romantic ones.

1. ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS! #truthbat Words woo and pull at our heartstrings. One right sentence from the right person can make our entire day, or week or month. But, the words mean nothing if they are not backed by actions. Whispering sweet nothings… they are nothings unless there are actions that make them somethings. I don’t care who you are, “I love you” followed by a junkpunch just ain’t right.
2. NEVER MAKE SOMEONE A PRIORITY WHEN YOU ARE ONLY THEIR OPTION. #truthbat One-sided relationships of any sort are unhealthy. Period. If you are the one that is always reaching out, always there for them, always the one to call, text, email, smoke signal, etc and they hardly or rarely reciprocate- they are not really a friend/lover/etc. If they come to you only when no one else is around, honey you are only an option. And you are better than being just an option to someone you deem a priority. It’s up to you to choose whether you remain in the relationship on some level. But, you HAVE to step back and ask yourself what YOU need from this relationship to be happy. If you need them to be where you’re at and they can’t be? Time to say peace out. If you are ok with them being just an option to you as well, then build up your walls and lay down your boundaries- not only with them, but with yourself more importantly.
3. IF THEY ONLY ACT LIKE THEY ARE WITH YOU IN PRIVATE, THEY AREN’T REALLY WITH YOU. #truthbat I understand not everyone is into public displays of affection. I get people wanting some privacy in their lives. If you buy a billboard on the freeway that says “I love you Bruce Phillip Wayne III” yeah, you have your own issues and that’ll get ya yelled at. But if you try to take their hand, put your arm around them, call them baby in public or post/tweet/whatever something affectionate somewhere on the interwebz to them and they get MAD… that is a huge red flag. “I don’t want everyone to be all up in my business” only goes so far when they are throwing their other business out there already. Think about it, she just posted a pic of her out with the girls drunk at a club or her kids doing something silly but “have a great day babygirl” got ya looked at cross-eyed? Relationship statuses have come up a TON of times lately. When it comes down to it- they are optional. Always. You don’t HAVE to list them. So, if they are listing “Single” yet you two are in a monogamous relationship or you sent them an actual relationship request and their ass ignored it… you’ve gone way past red flag and into Danger Will Robinson, Danger. If they refuse to claim you in public somehow, THEY DON’T REALLY CARE ABOUT YOU.
4. IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR THEM TO FUCK UP, THEY WILL #truthbat This goes hand in hand with ONE PERSON DOES NOT REPRESENT AN ENTIRE GENDER/RACE/SPECIES/ETC. #truthbat If you have been cheated on, hurt, junkpunched, etc by one person and you bring that baggage into a relationship with someone else, you’re gonna fuck it all up. If you dig and dig and second guess and question without any real reason to, they are gonna end up messing up. THEY ARE NOT THEM! This is a whole new relationship. Keep some healthy boundaries up to protect yourself, that’s fine. But don’t start digging through their cell phone, mail, myspace, whatever to find something. Because you will. It may not be something that is actually a legitimate mess up on their part though and by trippin on it, trust is lost on both ends. Once trust is lost, that’s the hardest thing to bounce back from.
5. IF YOU WATCH THEM ACTUALLY FUCK UP AND IGNORE IT, THEY WILL KEEP DOING IT. #truthbat If they step out of line and you know they did, but don’t call them on it, yeah they are going to keep stepping out of line. Depending on the relationship and how far outta line they’re stepping, you can toss them a freebie. But, after that…when you see the pattern and you fail to balls up and say “Ok, look, you maybe need to knock this off” that’s all on YOU. At that point you can’t be mad at them for stepping out of line, you have to be mad at your own self for not bringing it up. I know why you’re not though. I get it. It’s because if you call them on it, they might either talk their way out of it and keep doing it, get pissed at you for bringing it up then you’re the bad guy, or get mad enough to end the relationship. If they do though, THEY ARE NOT WORTH IT. IF SOMEONE LOVES/CARES ABOUT YOU, THEY WILL TRY TO SEE YOUR SIDE OF IT. #truthbat And IF THEY KEEP DOING IT, YOU MEAN LESS TO THEM THAN WHATEVER THEY ARE DOING DOES. #truthbat. And if you mean less to them, they don’t deserve you. Simple as.

So, my dears, there are other signs, other #truthbats that I can go on and on about, but these are the biggies. Instead of trying to take the relationship/the man/etc back, START BY TAKING YOURSELF BACK. Let me give you my own little #truthbat about me that I encourage you to take on for yourself: I WOULD RATHER BE ALONE FOR THE RIGHT REASONS THAN WITH SOMEONE FOR THE WRONG ONES. #truthbat Relationships may come and go, but you NEED to remain you. DO NOT give someone else the power to change or destroy who you are.

Which brings me to my little change. My little standing up for myself and swinging the #truthbat like a mutha FOR MYSELF.

STALKING IS JUST NOT SEXY. #truthbat For realz. When you get to the point where you are SCARING someone, you need to back the truck up and GET SOME HELP. Trust me, my ass is a pro at stalkers now. (If you doubt me you can read :I'm Like A Cat, Only With Stalkers Instead of Lives Sadly this one needs to be updated because I’ve surpassed the freakin cats.)

Stalkers come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes you don’t even know them, sometimes it’s someone who just can’t let go and sometimes it’s someone who has an issue with someone close to you and you get stuck in the crossfire. I’ve seen them all at this point.

What started the other night as an anonymous email from some coward regarding someone close to me in my life escalated to the point where they hunted down my HOME phone number and called me. Of course they lacked the balls to stay on the line and actually talk to me after they said what they felt they needed to. I did nothing to bring this on myself, nothing to taunt this person, nothing to DESERVE anything that went down that night. And I do many ANYTHING. There is so much epically wrong with all of it. The psycho had clearly been watching me and playing very close attention to me. I do hope she still is. In fact, I hope anyone that is presently stalking or thinking about stalking me (again.. I’m also in the totally not worth it category) is paying a little bit of attention. Please note, if you have to ask yourself “is she talking about me?” Yeah, I probably am.

I AM FUCKING DONE. #truthbat There is no more nice gal, there is no more first instinct of fear on my part. I may honestly be a really nice person, but we all have our breaking points and mine has far been reached. When attacked on any level, I will no longer take a step back and say “woah, what’s wrong?” Instead, I’m stepping to you and saying “WHAT? What is it that you want?” No matter how many moments I have flinched, I’ve never been a coward. I will look someone in the eyes and say what I need to say when I need to say it. If there is shit on my mind, it eventually comes out. Out of MY mouth. Not some pathetic anonymous email or blocked private call. I am the first to admit that I am flawed. I’m nothing super special. My anthem has always been “I am just Natali” or “I’m just me.”

And LilMissStalkerChick(at)GeeImCrazy.com YOU WILL NEVER BE ME. #truthbat

You seem to think you have gotten what you wanted. But, have you really?? If you would have stayed on after you said “I win.” You would have heard me laugh and say “If you think so.” Please do feel free to call back and have the sac to stay on the line.

Like everyone else that continues to ignore the truth... your lights are on, but no one’s home. Of course in your case, you haven’t been home for quite awhile now.

Too busy out trying to look in my window.

And when you can finally see in… I’ve got a lil message for you…

Don't Make Me Get My Truthbat

2010-05-19T18:49:00.001-07:00

If you were with me for the last post, you got a lil introduction to my dear friend the #truthbat. You also heard tale of the things in the outside world that have driven me to the point of this giant two-part blog. Now I’m going to let you in on my inside world. If you missed the last one, let me get you up to speed right quick.

1)We as women have got to stop treating each other and OURSELVES like shit and blaming it on men. Seriously, knock both parts off! #truthbat

2)We need to put the damn Ginsu knives down, step away from all the bullshit, stop knocking each other down and start building each other up. #truthbat

C) If we fail to do this, we are dooming every lil girl in our lives. Period. #truthbat

As the events in the last post were occurring, there was a theme interwoven directly in my own life. My own relationships with women. They forced me to wield the #truthbat on myself and do some reflection as a woman. As a friend. As a mom. As me.

I’ve always known I wasn’t wired quite like other females in my life. Growing up when other girls were gossiping, primping, vying (i.e. brawling) for social status and boys’ attention, I was doing my own thang. I wore what I liked, listened to what I dug, talked to whomever I wanted to and hung with more guys than girls. Part of me has always chocked it up to being kind of different in general. I just related to guys more than girls. None of the other girls rode a skateboard or played video games, could hack a computer or really shared most of my interests. I was just me. And I still am in a lot of those ways. Not that I haven’t grown, changed, evolved. I have. But, then and now, it’s on my own terms. For me. At my hand. In my own way.

It wasn’t until I was older that I started to reflect on the confusion I face when looking at my own gender. When gossiping didn’t end. When I began to really witness the false smiles. When the females I did bond with started getting stabbed in the back by other females. I still don’t play well with others in that manner. And I’m clearly still reflecting. But now I know that I am not alone. While I still have a bunch of guy friends, I also have a bunch of pretty incredible females in my life too. Others that are also wired differently. Or are they? Is it a matter of wiring?

While on my crusade of reflection, I’ve been looking at women in my life directly, in my life via other friends and completely outside of my life. I’ve been silently watching interactions between women in stores, at functions, on Twitter, on Facebook walls and yes even on the dreaded TV. (Total random side note/question stemming from “boob-tube” as slang for TV. Why is it that boob originated in like 1905 to describe “a stupid person; a fool; a dunce” and is now used to describe our breasts as well?? Welcome to my random ponderings) In all of this, I found a big commonality. Another reason for me to be proud to be a geek girl. In a whole, I discovered a whole lot of love amongst my sisters in geekdom. Enough for me to state that I believe that, in terms of groups, geeky gals bond and support each other more than other groups. You can get several geek girls together and no drama. Are we truly wired differently? Is it because we get so excited when we encounter each other that we bond and support rather than engage territorial behavior? Don’t get me wrong, we will talk all kinds of smack against each other via Xbox Live while playing. But, when we log off, it doesn’t carry over. I have seen so much support from geek girls for other geek girls’ projects and lives in general. It makes me squee. We are, for all intents and purposes, a minority in our own lil right. We’re cool with that though. We’re cool with each other. And we support our fellow geek guys.

Alright, having said that, I need to state, we aren’t perfect. We are not superior. We have our own lil quirks. In fact, one recent incident has been gnawing at me because it doesn’t stick with my theory (ok, technically hypothesis as it can’t truly be proven).

Months and months ago there was a geek girl I started following on Twitter. I Follow Friday’d her every time I did them. I tweeted at her to engage conversation or show support of her project. After months of this I realized that not only had she never followed me back nor replied to any of said tweets, she really wasn’t nice to people. So, I figured “eh, it’s just Twitter” and I unfollowed her. A few weeks went by and the path of turmoil she was creating went outside of Twitter and into people’s lives. It bothers me because it’s people I call friends, but I’m trying not to let my claws out. Yup, I have one of the traits that I have scolded other women for. #truthbat. Mine come out DEFFENSIVELY to protect those I care about or the underdog, not OFFENSIVELY to claw my way to feeling better or to a higher position. Regardless, I am still trying to use them sparingly and I totally didn’t want to start using them on another girl that waves a geek flag or shake up my lil geek girl community.

So, a couple of weeks ago I got a new geek girl follower and she’s great. When it came time to do some Follow Friday’s I used the old one from the aforementioned geek for this new one. I swear my only thought was “oh! I always liked this one, now I can use it for her!” That’s it. Nothing else occurred to me regarding it until the new girl was happy and RT’d it. And like a minute later guess who suddenly requested, after all this time, to follow me? Yup. The Aforementioned One. And I let her. Trying to be nice. Trying to give benefit of the doubt. Trying not to shake up lil community. Does she talk to me now? Yup, she’ll send me a random tweet on Friday mornings. Only on Friday mornings. Now she’s incited full-blown eye twitchage. To make matters more difficult, one of my good friends that is being affected by the Aforementioned One outside of Twitter is left in the same quandary I am. We are used to being ourselves, calling people on stuff and confronting situations head on. Yet, because it is a fellow self-proclaimed geek girl, we don’t feel like we can do that. We are forcing ourselves to smile, be polite and try to let her behavior slide. Which goes against who we are in a lot of ways. I realize the very posting of this is so passive aggressive and I’m not the passive aggressive type. Which bothers me all the more. The decision to do so comes down to two things. The first is me saying “fuck it.” If it shakes things up, it shakes things up and I accept full responsibility for everything that I’ve said here. I’m not sure what else to do and I need to just get it out. Maybe just the purge will do it good. The second is to prove an important point in this whole post- THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS TO EVERY RULE, EVERY THEORY. #truthbat Not every geek girl is wired the same way. Not every woman is wired the same way.

And not every exception is a bad one.

This brings me to another recent situation. We’ve all heard of the dreaded love triangle. The old scenario and it’s variations; two women fighting for same man, same man dating two unknowing women. Not long ago I found myself witness to a doozy of one. I lost track of how many women and the full drama that ensued, which is all unimportant. I know it sounds juicy, but I don’t dish. The reason it is here is to bring forth something that took me aback. Typically when drama of this nature goes down, the women don’t team up and go against the man (at least right away), the first reaction is to extend claws and gouge each others eyes out. Amidst all the craziness, all the drama, all the hurt feelings, the confusion, the gamut of emotions on all party’s parts… two unheard of things happened. The first was two separate women involved on two separate occasions uttered “This would be so much easier if you were a skanky whore, but you’re not. You’re really great” and “Wow, I gotta say I really like you. I didn’t want to, but I do.” Yup, insults didn’t fly. Eyeballs remained intact. Secondly, those two women both offered respect to another woman’s decision as to what she was going to do and what she would and would not discuss and actually followed through with the respect. And only one confirmed geek girl in the whole bunch.

We have it in us ladies. If while faced with matters of the heart, which tend to be the most sensitive of things, we can remain respectful and polite, well there’s no reason why on a day to day basis we can’t work together to move past these stereotypes that we’ve placed on each other. Yup, placed on each other. #truthbat

In my quest of reflection I have worked on who I am. Specifically who I let in my walls. This blog may make it seem like I don’t have any walls. I lay an awful lot of myself out there. But, I assure you I do. It’s a rather complex series of walls as well. Built over the years by myself, sometimes by the doing of others, sometimes by my own. There are people in my life that I like, people that I call acquaintances, people that I call friends and people that I feel a true bond with. Those that I feel the bond with are allowed access past more walls than others. For that reason, I tended to avoid bonding and I think especially women, as odd as that sounds. So, I have, in the last several months, made myself more open to possible bonds.

Out of the bonds I have made, I was wrong about only one. It’s still a hard one for me because we shared some really deep commonalities that most would never understand. Been through the same levels of Hell together. She showed me her Hell, I showed her mine. In the end though, her drive for acceptance of others, for attention from others proved the bond to be false. You have no idea how it hurt to know that I had shared so much with someone who turned around and pretty much pissed on it and bastardized it for her own benefit. You know what though? I’m ok. It didn’t kill me, it didn’t wreck me, it didn’t change me and it didn’t prevent me from bonding with or hurt the bonds that I had with some AMAZING women.

Maybe it’s not so much how we are wired. Those that are similar to me in how we treat the majority of other women, interact with them, support them, peacefully exist with them all have faced the threat of being forced into a stereotype at some point in their lives. Maybe it is a matter of embracing and being true to who we are no matter the circumstances.

These women are all very different in their own ways. If we were all standing in a group, just looking at us and our vast differences, you would wonder what the connection would be. What it comes down to is our cores. Our hearts. Our characters. And I love every one of them. We don’t talk every day, we don’t get together every week. But each one knows I am there for them and I know they are there for me. That if anything was needed the other would be there in a nanosecond. That no matter what direction our lives may take, no matter what distance lies between, no matter how long between conversations, that bond will remain intact. It’s not a forced bond, it doesn’t need to be babysat. It is nurtured naturally in its own way, it’s own pace.

They have all taught me lessons that I will forever be grateful for. Thank you will never be enough. Each has overcome very different obstacles and emerged beautiful, inspiring women. Women who lead by example.

The first happens to be the first woman I have ever proudly called my “BFF” (even though she’s more of a soul sister), who has the biggest, purest heart I have ever seen and we have an undying pact to lovingly whack each other with the #truthbat as needed. The saner pea in our crazy lil pod @StacySnook. She’s also the only one in my life that has truly taught me to embrace my inner girliness I have shied away from for so long.

Stacy's incredible self journey

Stacy's awesome salon

Where Stacy prettied up my eyes.

The woman who gives herself far too little credit, is beyond real, who taught me to take risks, that dreams aren’t worth anything if you don’t work toward them and proves geek girls don’t come in one boring mold. In fact, she makes her own in so very many ways. My sexy ass sista in geekdom @KyleeLane

Kylee's shop (for reals I own some and O M G!! You need!!)

Kylee's kick ass new project!

The woman who has helped me keep more balance in my life so far than anyone ever has, that has taught me it’s ok to take time out of life for myself to work on me, the person that encourages me regularly that being a work in progress is indeed a good thing, my voice of reason (and dorky sista from another mista) @BerniXiong

Berni's site (aka a lil corner of sanity)

The woman who reminded me how crazy but how fucking awesome my life is because our lives are so parallel at times it's straight up Twilight Zone and she was the first IRL woman I met that was just as dorky as me, but so freakin' aweseomsauce that it made me proud to be a dork. I know we don't hang like we used to, but she deserves to be here as well. I will always walk through Hell wearing ruffles for her, the woman who made me wish I had a stache to flaunt @SaraSantiago

Sara's words of wisdom we'd all be better living by

I have to admit I am in awe and so thankful for all the response and support from everyone that read the first part of this post. I hope that the second part hasn’t let ya down.

My quest shall continue. It’s legacy will hopefully live on with my girls. I hope one day they will, as @GeekWithSoul has wished for his daughter, read this and laugh about how things USED to be. That they will have pages of amazing women in their lives that also lead by example.

But this will only be if we make an effort to step up, lead by example, work toward change and gently keep each other in check when we don’t. Seriously, I may love your ass, but if you step outta line, I’m coming athcya with the #truthbat. *mwuah*

Step Away From the Ginsus

2010-05-17T05:09:00.000-07:00

Come sit a spell sisters, we need to have a lil chat. Actually what we really need is a shakabuku, otherwise known in Buddhist realms as a swift spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever. Let’s just start here first. You may wanna pop some corn or pour a glass of wine, this is going to take awhile and may hit ya as a surprise.

This post has been lurking within me for far too long now. A few recent events have had it building up and have now pulled it kicking and screaming out. Before I begin to run amuck with my babbling, let me hit you with my main point first.

As a gender my dear fellow proud females we, in many ways, have come so far. Yet, there is so much more that has to change. And you know what? It’s NOT the fault of men. It’s our own damn fault. Yup, you read that right. Welcome to the #truthbat. You will see it swung many a time in this post.

Seriously, we have got to stop treating each other and ourselves like shit. You can argue with me all day long that is men that “make us” act the way we do. But, that’s complete bullshit. Bottom line is we alone control our own actions and REACTIONS and it’s time we put our big girl panties on together as a gender and accept that. #truthbat

Woah! Where is all this coming from? It’s a culmination of many things really. A sweet and sour mixture of good, bad, ugly and beautiful. It comes from being proud to be a woman. It come from single-handedly trying to raise lil girls that hopefully will one day grow to be proud breast-toters in the future. It comes from realizing that stereotypes exist that shouldn’t. It comes from people screaming about unhealthy and unrealistic body images thrust forth on our younger gender, yet little has been actually done to truly change those images, those expectations. It comes from “feminists” screaming that bearing cleavage to raise awareness for breast cancer or to prove some whacked out scientist wrong that claims the world will end in a giant earthquake due to women’s breasts is appalling and takes our gender back to the stone ages. It comes from witnessing backstabbing galore and us tearing each other down instead of supporting and building each other up. Most importantly, it comes from having some beautiful, amazing women in my life that remind me on a daily basis what it SHOULD be like.

Not long ago I had a friend ask me for my opinion on Erykah Badu’s newest video for “Window Seat.” Rather than describe the video for you, as seen through my eyes, I am linking it here so you can see it through your own.

Erykah Badu- Window Seat, Unedited

So, I watched it and gave him my opinion. We discussed the feedback he had been given and sent me a link to comments on it. The comments surprised me so much, I then went searching the internet for more. In all honesty, this post began with those comments. That’s how long this has been brewing. Over all most of the responses were really quite positive. Of the negative ones (and I mean really negative not the random “damn she got a big ass”) 98% of the ones I read were from WOMEN. Of those, the majority were down right brutal. “Bitch” was used abundantly to refer to her and many women went so far as to talk shit about how many baby daddies she has. Seriously? You really had to take it to that level?

I will let you watch the video and come to your own conclusion. Your own idea of who “us” is. In the event you miss what she says at the end, I am placing it here for you to read:

“They who play it safe are quick to assassinate what they do not understand. They move in packs, ingesting more and more fear with every act of hate on one another. They feel most comfortable in groups… less guilt to swallow. They are us. This is what we have become… afraid to respect the individual.”

For me, “us” is we women.

We have all heard the old joke “Get more than two women together in the same room and there’s gonna be some drama.” You know what, on some levels, it’s right. And it’s our fault. #truthbat

Why is that? In nature it is the male of the species that puff up their chest and fights over territory. Yet, we puff up our hair, implant our chests, slap on war paint and sharpen our claws. Against EACH OTHER. We claim oppression, we scream for equality, we outwardly protest and scoff the media and entertainment industry’s portrayal of what we are “supposed” to look and even act like, yet what do we DO to actually CHANGE it? In fact, we actually INFLICT those very same things on EACH OTHER. #truthbat

One of the “we’ve come a long way, but we should be so much further along” moments of late brings me back to my arch enemy- Barbie. I never liked her growing up and as an adult she makes my right eye twitch. I remember the vote, I remember quite a few of my sexy sisters in geekdom that were shocked when I was not as excited as many were that Barbie’s new “career” that won out was Computer Engineer Barbie. The plan and simple answer to that was “they’re gonna screw her up and she’s gonna look ridiculous.” I tried to think positive, I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. I ignored all the hype around it and then one day took a deep breath and looked at the finished product they had come up with. I cocked my head to the side and fought the “yup ridiculous.” I really did. Then I took a close look and blurted out a good ole fashioned “what the fuck?” Her breasts were clearly smaller than the rest of the Barbies on the market. I was pissed. (I know, I realize the irony in me being pissed that the unrealistic body Barbie struts around in is actually becoming more realistic. But, to my defense, it’s the fact that it was done so on the one Barbie I can relate too. That older generations have viewed women with larger breasts as stupid and now the computer engineer needs to have smaller boobs hit close to home for me.)

I also was ready to fight on it. One thing about me though, is I never fight without knowing the facts behind what I am fighting about. So, I researched. I found many articles citing the smaller breasts on the Computer Engineering Barbie. With side by sides to prove it. I also found a quote from Mattel that stated that it coincides with their attempt at “depicting a more realistic and healthy body type.” You know what else I found? That they actually worked with the Society of Women Engineers and the National Academy of Engineering to develop the wardrobe and accessories for her. They tried. Her sparkly spandex pants make me cringe, no laptop a true computer engineer would use at work comes in pink and the high heels are questionable. But, she’s Barbie. One can’t expect Mattel to completely buck their standards for her in order to represent one profession. And maybe she had a presentation to do that day. Yup, I am wielding the #truhbat on my own self. The “should be further along” applies just as much to me as it does to Barbie in this case.

I know despite the vast differences between how this doll looks and what she portrays and me, that there may be an opportunity for girls to get more interested in becoming geek girls. I know no matter these differences that it does not make me any less a geek girl, any less me. I know that Barbie has never and will never define ME. I also know that we need to make sure that all our lil girls out there know that no doll, no actress, no pop singer, no rocket scientist, no quirky single mom writing blogs, NO ONE ELSE PERIOD defines THEM. THEY define them. In their own ways. On and in their own terms.

Now while Barbie is busy turning her headlights down a notch, ABC and FOX are busy banning Lane Bryant’s most recent commercial. ABC’s stance is the commercial is “too sexy for primetime.” They specifically cited “too much cleavage” as well. Lane Bryant purchased a time slot during Dancing With the Stars for this mind you. The same time slot that Victoria’s Secret has aired their commercials during. Fox used the excuse the commercial “is too long.” It’s 25 seconds. FOX did end up caving and aired the commercial once at the end of American Idol after Lane Bryant threatened to pull ads with them entirely.

Again, I will let you decide. Here is the infamously banned Lane Bryant commercial: I want to note a further frustration. This morning while I was grabbing the link to this video, the one viewed by over 1 million people came with a disclaimer "This video or group may contain content that is inappropriate for some users, as flagged by YouTube's user community." and stated I must log in as proof I am over 18 to view. Seriously??? The same disclaimer better be on the Victoria's one I'm going to pull next.

Banned Lane Bryant Commercial (almost 300K viewed deemed not inappropriate)

Here is Victoria’s Secret’s “What is Sexy” commercial that has aired on both ABC and FOX during prime time. (Note the Vickie’s commercial length of 1 minute) New note: I clicked on 23 different Victoria's Secret commercials all viewed hundreds of thousands to millions of times, not a warning on a single one of them. And ya know what, Lane Bryant's model doesn't grind and roll around all lustful looking like the Vickie's ones do. Oh the eye twitch.

Personally I think it’s insane that Lane Bryant’s ad was even remotely questioned. And it has nothing to do with the fact that my body looks like hers and not a Victoria’s Secret model. It has to do with the mockery that is the double standard that is presented. If the tables were flipped I’d be saying the same thing.

But, that is just my opinion on the matter. I, again, went searching for other people’s opinions. Women specifically for the sake of this blog. You know what I found? A boatload of women that AGREED with the banning. One woman stated “It’s not the cleavage that’s the issue, it’s the size. There is like a gallon of boob poured into each cup. It’s too distracting.” And there were women that agreed with her. On another site, a woman said “Who cares if you can relate to her more because she’s fat (and she is.) Her face is pretty but her body is another thing. Models are models because they look good and take great photos…stop lowering the standards to make yourselves feel better.” And ya know what? Yup, there were women that agreed with her too.

So, a lil something to think about while you are making your decision on this- according to a vast array of resources, the average US woman wears a size 14. Ashley Graham, the Ford Model in the Lane Bryant commercial is a size 16. Alessandra Ambrosio, one of the models that Victoria’s Secret uses most, is a US size 4.

Women come in all shapes and sizes and we buy bras and underwear. As consumers we buy MANY things. Hell, we’re known as “shoppers.” The way we are targeted in advertising in general is a whole debatable topic in itself. But it is this one example that I am using. Not only is the banning of this commercial concerning to me, so are the reactions and, in some ways more so, the LACK of reactions. Double standards of any type are a slippery slope. A slope that we as women need to climb, TOGETHER.

Together is one of the main themes in this ever-growing post of mine. Because of the length that it has already achieved, it will be the main topic of my follow up post to this that I have already written. But I want to give you the opportunity to digest this chunk first.

No matter how different every human being is from the next one, the mere fact we are human beings gives us a commonality. There are always things that we can relate to with someone that is even our direct opposite. But to do that means to step out of our comfort zone for some. To do that means to take the time to have an open mind, open eyes, open ears, open heart. The fact that we are all women makes us that much more closer to those commonalities. To similar struggles. Struggles that would be far less if we stopped stabbing each other in the back and knocking each other down.

If we put the Ginsu knives down and stepped away.

Silence

2010-04-02T05:43:00.000-07:00

“Spiteful words can hurt your feelings, but silence breaks your heart.” ~Author Unknown

So, at the time of writing this, I wasn’t sure I was going to even post it. I was trying to work some thoughts out. Still trying to really. Now that I’m posting it, I’m not sure I’m going to link it. I’m not sure of a lot right now. But, it’s part of who I am, it’s part of my process. It’s not witty, it’s not funny, it’s pretty much just kind of raw me. While I am usually always smiling, typically optimistic (at times to a fault) and seek out the lesson in everything… this time I don’t know what I am.

If you’ve been reading, you know that I recently did some Spring Cleaning. Sweeping out some bad to give the good more room to breathe. In reality, it was a hard thing for me to do. By nature I see the good in people. Once I care, I have a hard time walking away. Setting boundaries are sometimes hard enough for me. Even when a relationship, of any kind, swings off balance, when I care, I will take it and take it hoping it will eventually swing back to where it was. I don’t like to give up on people. This gets infinitely stronger the closer I’ve gotten to them and the closer I’ve allowed them to get to me.

I saved the hardest for last. One that had gotten off balance, but I knew at its core was good. When I ran back through the last year the positives clearly outweighed the negatives, there was a unique bond and yes there was love there. That while it may need repair, it was a keeper.

So I laid it at their feet. Which was scary, but I had faith. Faith in them. Faith in me. Faith in us.

I have listed all the things I knew in a recent post about my Spring Cleaning. The truths I had walked away from the lesson with. Bit it would seem the lesson isn’t finished.

Yes they had gotten my email.

Yes they had already started to respond.

Yes they wanted to talk.

Yet it remains at their feet.

A part of me does too in a way.

And now they have gone completely silent.

And instead of I knows, I am left with I don’t knows.

Question after unanswered question.

Why haven’t they responded? Are they scared to? Or do they just not even care? Do I matter? Did I ever really matter? Why say you love someone and then 48 hours later…? Do I just walk away? Do they wish I would? What happened? What did I do? What do I do?

Question after unanswered question.

And a lesson I am not yet sure of. Or maybe it’s right there but, feeling unworthy of even a response, tears have blurred my vision.

Whoever said silence was golden was sorely mistaken.

Silence hurts.

Silence can break your heart.

Help Me Obi-Wan...

2010-03-26T09:27:00.000-07:00

My monkeys are getting soft… and they’re taking me down with them.

The fact that my girls could quote Star Wars at two and three years old didn’t surprise any of my friends and family. The shocker was they did it wearing pink.

“I thought you hated pink.”

Pink does indeed make my right eye twitch in many of its applications. The only proven documented cases of me donning pink are my sister’s wedding from Hell (think pink meets Carmen Miranda) and medicinally. I have the distinct pleasure of being allergic to mosquitoes and yet living in a place that jokes they are the state bird. Thanks to those lil bloodsucking bastards and Calamine lotion, every summer I turn into a pale pink spotted leper. My theory on the whole pink thing with my daughters is this- just because I have issues with the color doesn’t mean I’m gonna impose my view or distaste of it on them. I want them to be their own lil people and if that means them liking pink, so be it.

Alright, look, I was totally hoping they’d take after me. They had me pretty convinced I was in the clear for a while here too. Pink was a passing phase. Purple, red and black have replaced it.

But I am far from out of the woods.

I know my name has girlie in it. True to form, I am quirky with my girlie-ness. People have been known to receive surprise packages of homemade daisy sugar cookies lovingly decorated with M&Ms. But, eldest’s last birthday cake request turned out to be a life size Yoda. Which I blissfully tackled creating new cuss words as I built him. I’m almost always seen wearing lipstick. Yet the makeup and hair product department scares the complete shit out of me. Last year I am proud to say I learned how to put on eye shadow for the first time. Figured one day I may need to teach the monkeys that. Hairspray, however, is still a complete mystery to me beyond a fixative for charcoal drawings and a make shift self-defense device. You never know when an Aqua Net flame-thrower may come in handy ya know. I’m girlie on some levels, others not so much.

I had a close call last year when my phone rang at 7:15am on Black Friday. Panic ensued when a woman who is like a sister to me uttered ”Look bitch, my nieces are getting Barbies this year and that’s that. Suck it up.” And they did. It was less than a week later I got the joy of calling her and saying “Guess what hooker- your youngest niece just popped the head off her Barbie and chucked it at her sister. And she did the same back. That’s right, Barbie head fight all up in here.” Whew.

Still not out of the woods.

Last week during our drive home, eldest monkey was talking like 93mph about her day. Then gasps. “Oh my gosh mommy, I totally forgot to tell you- J CALLED ME HIS BFF TODAY!!” My brain so hadn’t processed yet and before I knew it I was all “Oh my gosh that is like way awesome.” And then she was all “Do you know what a BFF is? “ And I was all “Duh, it’s totally Best Friends Forever.” And then she was all “Wow. Mommy you are like so totally awesomesauce.” Then a voice of logic from within bitchslapped my neurons back into place. WHAAAA?? She’s only 5! I had visions of a 13 year old having body snatched my kid. And me for that matter!!! That night we had a “Goonies” intervention. Had to be done.

But it started to sink in. She’s growing up. They are growing up. And being exposed to BFF’s and lip gloss. I know girls will be girls. The dresses and skirts don’t bother me at all. I can even live with the fake plastic my first hooker heel dress up shoes they clomp around in. Well, until I step on a stray one. Them suckers hurt. The first rock star they met in person wasn’t someone from a Disney show, it was Maynard from Tool & Puscifer. They don’t want ballet lessons, they want to go to “Kung Fu School.” It’s been balancing out, but I’m scared of the scale tipping. Too soon! Not ready. There’s not nearly enough saved up in the therapy fund yet.

And then there was this Wednesday night. What started out like a normal Monkey Family Movie Night, quickly downward spiraled. Alvin and the Chipmunks the Squeakquel was harmless the first time we watched it. This time, it changed. While Simon is still their favorite, my safe lil balance was thrown way off. Thanks to those lil Chimpettes. Monkey Family Movie Night turned into me learning the words to some “you’re hot and your cold…. you’re yes and you’re no” song and Beyonce’s “Single Ladies.” Not just the words, oh no, we went further down the rabbit hole than that. To sum it up, a knock on the door from the neighbor girls later and I had a room full of lil girls and somehow I was choreographing our own routines to the songs.

I am not ashamed to say I had fun. Their giggling is infectious. And it’s my favorite sound in the world.

But, I’m scared. I’m scared of that scale getting tipped long term to all that is pink and plastic and Barbie. To stereotypes and living up to peers’ expectations instead of being true to themselves and who they really want to be. They are my daughters though. I have faith they will settle into their own quirky girlie-nesses. Proud to be girls. Knowing that being soft doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. That having boobs doesn’t mean you don’t have brains. That life is a continual learning process and someday their daughters may teach them as they continue to teach me.

The next day eldest’s class went to the book fair they have going on at her school. She was given an envelope of money from me and told she could buy anything she wanted with that money. There was only one requirement- it had to be something SHE wanted. Not what she thought I would want, or her sister would want, or her BFF would want. What SHE wanted.

And this is what she came home with.

Obi-Wan, you are my hope.

I Am Allergic To Ammonia & Mismatched Russian Stacking Dolls

2010-03-23T06:06:00.000-07:00

Approximately 13 minutes into third period, Mr. C’s accelerated chemistry class knew I was wearing red and black plaid bikini underwear. Yup. Good times. I was proudly perched on my lab stool eagerly ready to learn when he began demonstrating the lesson. As soon as the smell hit me… thunk. That was the day I found out I was allergic to ammonia. And that my face is capable of turning the exact shade of red in that damn plaid underwear. It took until fifth period for news of my underwear sighting to properly reach the whole school. It took until winter before I would wear a short skirt again. With tights. THICK ONES.

Even a nerdy science girl gets that panty peekage as grand as that doesn’t happen every day. Laughter I expected. Laughter from those I thought were friends I did not. And I’m not talking in that laughing with you way cuz hello at that age there is a certain acceptable grieving period one must go through on such an epic incident of embarrassment before one can laugh at one’s self. Two periods didn’t quite cut that. Rumors blindsided me even more. You see, despite the red face, restricted airway and eyes swollen and watering for hours after, I had staged it you know. I was basically just an attention-seeking whore. Two terms that couldn’t be further from the truth. And you didn’t even really need to know me to know that just wasn’t who I was. People are odd creatures. They remind me of those lil Russian stacking dolls. You never know what you’re going to get when you lift the face off the top one. Sometimes all the ones inside are exactly the same, other times they are drastically different. You never truly know what the other faces will look like. Until it’s too late.

It’s Spring Cleaning time for me. I’m definitely not one of those people that takes great joy in cleaning. Don’t try to eat off my floor, I wouldn’t advise it. And yeah, still no ammonia based cleaners for me. This year, I’ve done things differently. I’ve decided to start Spring Cleaning my LIFE before my home. Ok, for a fleeting moment there was a small part of me that thought it would be a great diversionary tactic to avoid the tedious scrubbing of my physical surroundings. My gut and my heart knew it would actually be much more difficult. Truthfully though, Life had already begun to show me the necessity for it over the past two weeks and for once I wasn’t too stubborn to listen.

I started with myself and a simple question- am I happy? Then tackled the unpleasantries- who am I? Where am I going? How do I propose I am going to get there? What makes me happy?

Honestly, I was pretty proud of how I was working through all of it so quickly and comfortably. That should have been my first red flag. Then Life, that twisted lil skamp, started flipping the heads off the Russian dolls in my life. Two dolls in I knew I needed to switch gears and pull some off myself. Or gut check and make my best educated guess at what truly lay beneath. Which sucked. Hard. But I did it. I purged what I determined to be the false, the negative, the energy suckers, the constantly need ego strokingers. I thought I had gotten them all. The fact that I thought that and I worked through it rather comfortably as well should have been the sign the freakin’ apocalypse was coming. And not the fun zombie kind either.

For about a day I felt I had emerged from my Spring Cleaning confident, focused, surrounded by positive, loving friends. Yay me!

Then someone brought a jug of ammonia to my party. Thunk. A couple of conversations with a couple of people and my whole process was going to need to start all over again, face red, head spinning, eyes watering, self doubting, lil Russian doll heads popping off all over.

I would have rather just lifted my damn skirt and shown everyone my underwear. Again. After Spring Re-Cleaning, I’ve decided this time the underwear wouldn’t be plaid bikini. For starters we’re looking at boy shorts instead because this ass needs to be contained. They would be black and in red letters across my ghetto booty it would read I KNOW.

I know who I am.

I know that I trust until given a reason not to and some people may use that to their advantage.

I know that I love those I care about unconditionally without honestly wanting anything in return.

I know I am a genuine and kind hearted person.

I know I am flawed, but I am REAL.

I know when you look at all the other faces of mine behind the one you see-

They. Are. All. The. Fucking. Same.

I know who I am.

I know where I am going.

I know what makes me happy.

I know who really knows me and really loves me.

I know I am still allergic to ammonia.

And now I know I am allergic to mismatched Russian stacking dolls.

Once Upon a Time, Someday

2010-03-12T09:02:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time there lived a little girl who believed that anything was possible. That just because something hadn’t been done yet did not mean that it couldn’t be done. That someday a Princess would slay a dragon. That someday what was on the inside would count more than what was on the outside. That someday people would come in so many colors, black and white would cease to exist. That someday the world would be a peaceful and happy place.

As she grew, she held tightly to this belief, this faith that anything could be accomplished. The harder life tried to beat it out of her, the more and more cemented in her belief she became. When things got really dark, she would close her eyes and picture the endless possibilities that lay ahead until it was safe to open them again. As the girl got older she saw many things no one should have to see and went through many things no one should have to go through. Each time, she closed her eyes and thought of a time when no one would. In fact a time when no one would go through worse either because she knew that there were many out there that not only faced worse in their lives, but did so on a daily basis.

That girl, not so much a girl anymore, also thought of a time when she could do more than small little things to ripple a very large pond. Very few things made her happier, and still do really, than proving the “you can’t” sayers wrong.

A couple of months ago, one of her pet peeves seemed to be everywhere. Like someone let it get into a bucket of chicken after midnight and it multiplied out of control. Just what was it that was eating that chicken? Grumpy, negative people. The kind that spew their negativity at everyone and prove that whole misery likes company schtick. The kind that constantly whine and bitch and moan about everything, yet do nothing about it. Perhaps that isn’t fair, sometimes they do go through the effort of raising a finger to point it at those whose fault they would like to blame for it. But, of course it is never THEIRS. And sometimes some of them may do so simply because they don’t know what else to do. But when it comes down to it, even when you don’t know what exactly to do, you aught to try something. Any effort is better than no effort at all. And that girl has always believed if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. So that girl closed her eyes and she thought of a time when the positive would outweigh the negative. Then she tried to imagine just how she could make that happen.

It was around this time that a couple of other people she had grown to know quite well were facing the same negativity and about done with it as well. They realized that on the outside they were so very different, but on the inside, they all shared the common bond, the desire to make a difference. To make a change in this community, in this country, in this world. Together they also knew that they did not have the one right answer on how this would be done, but that was ok. The mere fact that they knew they had each other and knew there would be more like them who shared their goal was all they needed. The girl smiled happily, knowing she had found a way to make a much bigger ripple in that very large pond. And that girl’s smile got a whole lot bigger and a lil mischievous when she realized all the “you can’t” sayers they could prove wrong.

And so it began.

Once upon a time, Zebra Panel was born. And someday, it will make all kinds of things that haven’t happened, begin to happen.

To visit Zebra Panel online, click here.

To visit Zebra Panel on Facebook, click here.

To hang with Zebra Panel on Twitter, click here.

To visit some of the girl’s Partners in Change:

Her homie, The Bus Bandit, please to read is recent AMAZING blog post byclicking here.

Her soul sistah, Berni, click here.

Her Partner in Change and Crime, Carrie, click here.

Her sister from another mister and in dorkery, Sara, click here.

Her heart of gold havin’ BFF Stacy, click here.

Her newest partners and amazing group of people, Life After Hate, click here.

FLIP IT!

2010-02-26T06:15:00.000-08:00

It amazes me how alike and yet how different my monkeys are. They are both undeniably my daughters in so very many ways. Personality-wise, there is almost nothing of their father in them. Trust me, that’s not a bad thing.

Both are strong and feisty in their own right. Lilest is my rebel, bold and proud of who she is and will defend herself and her sister in less than a heartbeat. Eldest monkey is equally proud of who she is, will womp an army if they even look at her sister cross-eyed, but will not stand up for herself. Both willing to bend, to change, to break for no one. Yet one remains silent when faced with someone who feels it is okay to diminish her feelings or bully her. She will merely stand silent and take it. I used to think she had inherited the trait from me. I will take a lot of shit from people before I finally say I’ve had enough and snap. Mess with someone I love though and it’s on like Donkey Kong. And over before you know it.

Yesterday, I realized I was wrong.

Eldest came home from school Monday and told me one of her classmates (I’m gonna refer to him as Eddie, cuz I swear he’s the bastard son of Eddie Haskel) pushed her at recess. Huge step for her. I asked to her tell me what happened. Turns out Eddie kept telling her to kiss another male classmate (Eldest’s BFF actually) and she refused to. So the little shit pushed her. Each time she said no to giving BFF a smooch, Eddie would push her down. When I asked her what she did, she replied “I just kept getting up.” When I asked her why she didn’t go get one of the teachers at recess, she said she didn’t want to be a “tattle tale.” Grrr… the guidance counselor had talked to them last week about “tattle tales.” One of the guidelines to when you should tell was only if someone was getting hurt. In Eldest’s head, she wasn’t physically hurt from the push, therefore she shouldn’t tell. Good job guidance counselor.

So we had a chat. I explained right off the bat that NO ONE has the right to hurt or to push her. That just because the push wasn’t physically hurting her, it still hurt her feelings and her feelings were even more important than her body to some extent. A scraped knee heals quicker sometimes.

We formulated a plan.

First push- she points at him and in the biggest voice she has says “NO! Eddie that is NOT OKAY! You do NOT have the right to push me!” Even if he stops, she tells her teacher what happened.

Second push- she goes to get a teacher.

If he tries to push her or stop her in any way from getting a teacher, I told her to push his ass back. That’s right. This is a point I would end up fighting with her teacher on. My point, bottom line- my children will know that if ANYONE tries to physically restrain them from getting help, they have the RIGHT to physically defend themselves. Period. Cuz one day it may not be lil Eddie. It may be someone bigger and far more dangerous. So, yeah, kick his lil ass monkey.

Tuesday she comes home. And yup, Eddie pushed her again. She stuck her finger out and she stated her case. Then he pushed her again. Then she forgot what number two was. So, we went over it again. I also made it clear that while I wanted her to address this with her teacher and would giver her the opportunity to do so, that I as going to step in if it happened again. On the way to school Wednesday, we went through the steps again. This time at recess she forgot all of them. So, yesterday morning I stepped in.

And then it hit me. It wasn’t that Eldest had inherited this trait from me. She had LEARNED it from me. It was all my fault.

This week there has been a situation going on in my life that has echoed some things that have happened to me in the past. Wednesday night I had made the realization that I was allowing myself to react to them in a similar way as I had and it bothered me. I had made a plan to change that. While writing Eldest’s teacher, the realization beat me over the head that some of her earliest memories of me are what has caused her to be the way she is right now.

While Eldest monkey was only two and a half when I finally got the courage to end my marriage, she was a very smart two and a half. And she remembers it quite clearly. In fact, no one is allowed to use the word stupid around me because of that. You see I say my ex was an asshole of epic proportions. What I have yet to mention is that he was a huge bully and incredibly abusive. One of his favorite things to do was invent new ways to call me stupid. “What did you eat a big fucking bowl of stupid for breakfast?” Despite that fact that I worked full time and did literally everything around the house, “useless bitch” was one of his favorite pet names. He couldn’t even wake up for work on his own, I was his “alarm clock” and he was a mean man in the morning. If he was late, it was my fault. Everything was my fault. I will spare you all the gory details.

He was constantly yelling and screaming at me and in my defensive mode, I kept thinking “don’t fight back.” At the time, in my head, I didn’t want the girls to see us fighting. I thought if I just stood there and took it, it would end quicker. And it chipped away at me day by day. Little by little I began to lose who I was. Something I’d swore I’d never do. Then one day Eldest came into the kitchen and says “Mommy, what’s that noise?” I say “It’s daddy, he’s home and outside snowblowing the driveway.” She FREAKED. Eldest became hysterical and yelled “I DON’T WANT DADDY TO BE HOME!! I HATE IT WHEN HE’S HOME MOMMY!!” And that was it. It took a couple more weeks for me to formulate a safe “escape plan” and get him out of the house.
But in my attempt to shield them from giant, ugly and potentially very frightening , violent fights, I had taught Eldest that it was okay to take that. It was okay to allow someone to treat her that way. To bully her. To not stand up for herself.

And you have no idea how much it hurts to know I have done that.

So, I have a brand new plan. It is up to me to lead by example. To be the change. To end the cycle. To stand up for myself. To acknowledge when people are treating me in a way I do not deserve and to vocalize it and back it up with actions. To cut ties with those that feel it is okay to bully me. To diminish my feelings. Or use me as an ego boost when no one else is paying them attention. Those that are used to getting away with things because I allow them to.

One of our Monkey Family Rules is “If you’re having a bad day, you can still turn it around. You can take a deep breath, a step back and yell ‘FLIP IT!’ And start it over and do it right.”

I am using my “FLIP IT!”

Hustle and Flow

2010-02-12T08:17:00.000-08:00

They say in every career in health care you experience one major event. Something so messed up that it stretches way out of the norm. Of course, I like to throw off statistics. I have had a couple of them already. Each one, while Hell at the time, taught me so much. There is indeed a lesson in everything in life. The most recent of these taught me a couple of things. It cemented my belief that treating your staff with respect and nurturing a true team environment will allow you to accomplish anything. It reminded me that even when people make incredibly poor decisions (and are too dimwitted to hide the evidence of it), they can still rise above it and turn themselves around. It proved to me that there are people in this world that really do care about others more than they care about a paycheck. It showed me that the Milwaukee Police Department (specifically District 7) seriously leaves A LOT to be desired. And finally, you have not truly lived until you’ve had a one-legged schizophrenic over your shoulder at 3:30 in the morning.

I was running a 42 bed assisted living facility for those with chronic mental illness. Illness to the point where no one else would take them. When I first started I had a social worker I’d known for years be like “this place will take anyone.” At first I was offended. But, then I decided, damn right we will. EVERYONE deserves a home. We had 36 residents that made up quite the motley crew. But it worked. Damn well at that. The building was an old ass nursing home in a neighborhood most call a “ghetto.” The staff were just as diverse in personalities as the residents. When I began there, those that survived the lunatic bitch that ran the place before were emotionally beat. She was beyond hard on them and you could tell. Morale sucked, but they toughed it out because they loved the Hell outtta those residents. The owners hated the building, the residents and everything to do with it. We were the bastard stepchild. Like flaming red hair, missing digits, cross-eyed, had Tourrettes with a lisp kind of stepchild in their eyes. Not only were we the complete underdogs, but combine the owners’ refusal to put any kind of money in the place, the aforementioned crazy boss and yeah social workers, doctors and even State pretty much hated us when I got there. But, WE worked our asses to change all of that.

And one night we proved every naysayer wrong. There’s not much I love to do more than prove people like that wrong.

It was roughly 3:00am on February 12, 2007 when my work cell rang. Calls at that time of night weren’t all that rare, but this one was way different.

Third shifter: “Umm..I think we’ve got a pipe burst up in the smoke room.”
Me: ”You think?!?”
Them: ”Yeah, there’s some water leaking down into the 1st floor living room.”
Me: ”Hmm….some??”
Them: ”Yeah, that’s what I said. Some.”
Me: “Like how much some?”
Them: “Like dripping some.”
Me: “Ok. Well, keep the residents out of the smoke room and I’ll get a plumber out there right away.”
Them: “Ok”

So, I call around until I find a plumber that can go out in the middle of the night and send them on their merry way over there. I call the staff back to let them know help is on the way. “Cool. Thanks.”

Roughly two minutes later (3:12am) my phone rings again.

“Hi, this is JT from the Milwaukee Fire Department. We’re going to need to shut the power off and you’re going to need to start getting these people out of here miss.”
Me: “WHAAAAAAAA?????”
“Miss, this building is flooding.”
(insert stream of cussing that would rival the dad in The Christmas Story)

It took me approximately 14 minutes to get dressed and haul the 12.9 miles to get to the building.

On my way, I called my boss in Chicago who told me she would “rally” the other buildings’ Administrators and have them grab their facilities’ vans (my facility wasn’t good enough for one) to come help. I then spent the rest of the ride on the phone with my building talking them through what to do. It was all of 12 degrees out that night, snow everywhere, ice lurking. When I pulled up to my building, my heart swelled sooo much with pride. EVERY staff person I had showed up. Most in their pajamas.

I will never forget walking into that building, a place we all called our second home. Water was halfway to my knees and raining down from the ceiling. The only light came from flashing emergency lights. One of my staff described it later as what she pictured the stairwells of the twin towers to be like that fateful day. I’m not sure that I would describe it as such, but the images will never leave me.

We immediately divided the residents up by medical needs. The ones with the most would go to our facility that had a nurse on staff. All charts, medications, treatments and cigarettes (trust me, they lived for smoke time) were grabbed, bagged by resident and ready to go. We assigned residents to each staff per vehicles (who could get in a car vs. needed a van) and started loading.

All of this was done before a single Administrator from another facility showed up.

Through every step of this, all of the residents (you know the ones “too crazy” to “belong” anywhere else) remained perfectly calm. Well, except for Mr. M. when he started some drama over not riding with me. But, he was a bit of comic relief “ If I can’t ride with baby girl, y’all can just leave my ass here to die!” So, I loaded him in his assigned car and gave him a smooch on the cheek. Rumor has it he cussed the whole way to his evacuation spot when he figured out it wasn’t my car.

As I sat worked on loading residents and walkers and wheelchairs and charts (oh my!) I kept noticing police car after police car just drive right on by. The officers would look, but just keep going. I admit after I got my one legged friend in my van and saw the sixth squad car roll by, I was pissed. They ended up stopped at the light right by our facility. Yeah, I admit it was unprofessional, but I couldn’t help it. I yelled “What do you think we’re going on a fucking field trip?” No response from him.

By the time the sun started rising, every resident and all of their necessities were safely relocated to their temporary home. I made the rounds visiting them and my staff that went with them to care for them and it was the only disheartening part of the whole experience. The staff at our “sister” facilities were rude to our residents and our staff. They were completely put out by us invading their space. Which I can honestly understand in some aspects. But knowing what they have been through and knowing the staff that understood them best was there to meet their needs, wouldn’t you have some ounce of compassion?? Had the tables been turned, I know we would have welcomed the newcomers with open arms and made sure they knew they were welcomed.

The company felt no need to move the residents from their evacuation areas. “They can just double up with the residents there for a bit, they’ll be fine.” They were far from fine. They were miserable. Tossed in a new location was hard enough. Yanked from their regular routines was beyond hazardous to triggering behaviors they fought to control. Most importantly, they had bonded with each other and the staff in a manner where we really were a family. One that truly put the fun in dysfunctional. And, we were they only family most of them had. So, I pulled out the big guns. I went through the HFS 83 State codes we were governed by and pulled out every single potential violation we could be sited for. The company HATED me. I was proud. By the end of the day, our entire facility, med cart and all, was moved into our own floor of a hotel.

It took the restoration company an entire month to repair all the damage that had been done and bring the building back up to code. It proved to be one of the longest months of my life. I worked literally every single day. The smell of mold will forever bring back a nauseating feeling. I also know much more about abatement and dealing with contractors than I ever thought I would.

During this whole time, the initial conversation I had that night with third shift bugged me incessantly. Coupled with the fact that the two who were on duty that night were magically transformed into amazing employees, picking up shifts they never would have before and actually charting in a manner they never had and yeah, something stunk in Denmark. Yet, neither would spill. I had investigated to the point where I knew, without a doubt, that they could not have prevented what occurred in any way. There was no way I would tell them that though. But “some” water versus a veritable waterfall weighed on me.

Then one day I was cleaning at the facility, getting it ready for our family to come home, and I just happened to check the DVD player in the first floor living room. The very living room that lay directly under the smoke room. I could have smacked myself for not thinking to do so earlier. In it was a bootleg copy of Hustle and Flow. Oh the irony.

I'll Take The Roller Coasters

2010-01-29T06:00:00.000-08:00

I’ve gotten a lot closer lately to someone in my life. We’re bonded by the understanding of similar relationship types. There are so many other awesome things in common, but emotional understanding is a unique one. Just knowing that someone knows what you are going through or have gone through sometimes makes all the difference. Especially when one is male, the other female.

We were checking in with each other for the day and the ole emotional roller coaster came up. You know the one. One minute they love you and it feels amazing, the next they tell you how replaceable you are or just appear to completely bail. Yup, those.

And then I remembered. I remembered a time when the mention of a roller coaster brought a ridiculously huge smile to my face, instead of a sinking feeling in my stomach. The bad “this is gonna hurt” kind of sinking feeling that is, not the “look mom no hands” kind. Anyway, you know what I mean. Some of my way early blog posts touch a little bit about a time when I ran a group home for Autistic children in California. In many ways that home, that time, will always feel like home to me.

One of the oldest residents, J, was 16 and had Asperger’s. He was obsessed with weather and all his emotions were given as a weather report. “How was school today J?” “Sunny in the morning turning cloudy and windy shortly after lunch.” In his eyes, I was one of the coolest people ever because I had seen a tornado “live.” When he started to fly off the handle, me telling him of the times I would stand at the end of the driveway watching the tornado come then running in the house and down into the basement for safety, would calm him down.

Being the 2nd oldest in the house and having the least communication impairment was hard on J. Even harder was the fact that his parents were complete fuck ups. What saved them from epic level was the fact they finally had the sense to put him in the group home. Though, I suspect Social Services had more to do with it than they did. Every couple of months I would get a call they were visiting and J needed me. Standing there looking at them, knowing where every scar came from, emotional and physical on J’s body SUCKED. What made it even worse was knowing all he wanted was for them to love him, to accept him and he was met with cold expressions. It was the only time J actually wanted to be touched. Just my hand on his arm. Like I was anchoring the tornado. Or I was standing there watching it with him and my hand would tell him when to run to the basement for safety. Or maybe my hand was the basement. There were so many times as they sat there coldly uttering some sort of resemblance of idle chit chat that in my head I would literally picture screaming at them. Telling them everything I thought of them. It went against everything in me to not actually do it. But, I knew if I did, they wouldn’t come back. While not coming back may be a really good thing for J, it wasn’t my decision to make for him and I guess the sappy me still had hope.

We had a routine. They would leave, J would go directly to his room. I would give him some time while I charted the visit, then go check on him before he left. See what the weather report was. After one of these visits, I walked in and my eyes locked on the posters of roller coasters he had next to all his meteorology ones. J’s second favorite thing was roller coasters. But, J had never actually been on one. When I got in my car that day, it occurred to me that we lived maybe 15 minutes from Great America. So, I took a detour on my way home. After an hour with the manager of the place and the low price of $100, J and I became season pass holders. And J had his own “front of the line pass.” The next morning I walked into the home, told J to get dressed that I had a surprise for him and our new ritual began.

From that weekend on, every Saturday morning, J and I had a date. We’d get there right when Great America opened and ride all the roller coasters he wanted to. You could pack a lot in when you got to walk to the front of the line every time. Watching him close his eyes and just scream and let it all out was well it was its own lil roller coaster of emotion. Proud he was letting it all out. Relieved I’d found a way for him to do so. Happy because he would walk around that park with the biggest grin on his face. Yet, still so sad that it wasn’t just a kid having fun getting that rush from rides, but therapy. I’d wished so much it could just be fun for him. When J had enough, he would stop, look at me and say “I’m done Lolli, let’s go home.” (Lolli was what one of his house brothers called me because he couldn't say "Natali." J thought it fit me pretty good.) Like every good date, well great date in this case, the ending is key. Each time I pulled up to the house to drop him off, I got a hug. You’d have to know J to know how much it means. To me, it meant the world.

One of my favorite movies is Parenthood. There is a scene where the sweet, yet senile, lil ole grandma talks about a date. On a roller coaster. She compares it to the merry go round and life. Like life, some people prefer the merry go rounds, they are safe, they are predictable. But roller coasters, though they are scary, offer so much more. Me, I’ll forever take the roller coasters.

And thanks to wise advice from my wonderful new friend, I will always remember to raise my arms at the top of the hill.

You can watch my favorite clip of Parenthood here.

Knit A Loop Of Love Around Haiti

2010-01-21T11:03:00.000-08:00

All below text was from an email I received from Loop. There was no way to post a link, so I'm passing it along this way. Knitting takes balls and heart. Spread the love. :)

KNIT A LOOP OF LOVE AROUND HAITI

Calling all who knit and crochet and who want to make a difference in the immediate medical needs of Haitians injured during the earthquake.

Join children and teachers who knit and crochet at the UWM Children's Center in a knit-a-thon!

Do quick knit/crochet projects for children, adults, and college students (e.g., hats, gloves, scarves, shawls, toys, etc.) to be sold to raise money for much needed medical supplies.

These projects will be sold in a fundraiser organized by the children of UWM on Feb. 12th to support the Haitian Community Hospital (L'Hôpital de la Communauté Haïtienne), located in Petionville, Haiti (www.haitihosp.org). Drop off your donated projects at the Loop Yarn Shop (2963 N. Humboldt, 265-2312, next to Alterra) between Jan. 21 and Feb. 8th. For information or questions, contact Liz Drame at liz.drame@gmail.com .

I Kinda Had A Moment

2010-01-20T15:44:00.000-08:00

So, I had me a lil moment on Twitter Friday morning. Ok, it was more like a Falling Down moment. I was Michael Douglas and I’d had enough. Now I know #twitterisalotlikehighschool, but my faith in humanity felt like it was being flipped off. And I snapped… just a touch.

You see, I logged in that morning and the number two trending topic was #getwellgaga. #Haiti was barely clinging to the bottom of the list. Admittedly, that was enough to bother me. Then I pulled up my faithful buddy Google to find out what exactly the well wishes were for. For a number two slot, I expected to find a diagnosis of cancer or, at the very least, a car accident or shot by a crazy stalker fan. I’d have MAYBE settled for a trip to rehab. Not that I’m wishing any of these on her. Instead I read “Lady Gaga cancels performance due to exhaustion.” You’re kidding me- right? Exhausted from cancer treatments? Exhausted from running from crazy knife/gun-wielding stalker fan? Exhausted from saving the world from certain doom? Jeebus give me something here!! Nope, just “exhausted.”

Over 3 MILLION people have just been severely affected in a nation that was already struggling with some pretty serious issues and people are more focused on sending get well wishes (that she’s never even going to see, let alone respond to!) to some goofy bitch that just needs to eat a sandwich and take a night off from partying?? Yeah, I went from bothered, squealed right on past pissed and landed firmly in Superfly TNT.

As I’d already blipped my morning love song to my coffee my second tweet of the day was:

“What the fuck kind of world do we live in that get well wishes for some obnoxious wannabe who is merely ‘exhausted’ out trends #haiti?!!??”

Followed by:

“Seriously. You know who is EXHAUSTED? The 3MILLION people affected by Tuesday’s quake and all the volunteers in #haiti trying to help.”

And I hit the ground running from there. I also refused to call Lady Gaga by her name as to avoid adding anything to the already trending hash tag. Then I went after the number one hash tag #OMGfacts. I kept it there so any of the people looking for their tweets may actually end up receiving a bit of education. I tweeted several facts regarding the issues facing those in Haiti. I am happy to report that MANY of my tweeps backed me. With comments, with RT’s, with DM’s, they supported my anger. My disappointment. My sadness.

I think people’s obsession with celebrity worship is disgusting. Believe me, I’ve met more than my fair share of celebrities and they are assholes just like the rest of us. In many cases, even worse. What have they truly done to earn such admiration and blind lust? What value does that worship truly add to one’s life? Actors and actresses may have done a performance that moved you. Ok, but that performance was written by someone else. That character is not THEM nor their creation. Furthermore, most of the time, that character isn’t even REAL. Musicians may be talented, but their music often isn’t written by them and they aren’t singing that song to you. Really, I hate to break it to you, but they aren’t. There are hundreds of thousands of wonderful, highly musically talented people in this world that will never be noticed. Are they just as worthy? Is it for the sole purpose of looks? There are beautiful people everywhere on this planet. Most of which are beautiful INSIDE AND out. Do they not beckon the same then? Don’t even get me started on the Paris Hiltons of this world. I think you’re getting my point.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not shunning all you fanboy and fangirls out there. I get digging a show, a character, a game, a movie and collecting stuff that goes along with it. Hell here in monkeyland we have a tank with a fish named Wonder Woman, a frog named Princess Leia and a snail named Chauncey The Wonder Snail. I’m not picking on you. Not at all my dearies. It’s the chicks that get the vapors and bawl for weeks on end because their favorite so and so is engaged. It’s the guys that wallpaper their room with posters of their favorite so and so and name their designated self love hand after them. It’s the people that all went suicidal when Michael Jackson died. It’s the people that take it to that whole other level. Like sending get well wishes to Lady freakin’ Googoo on Twitter.

< / rant>

Just like life, Twitter doth take away and it doth also give. While it flipped off my sense of humanity on Friday, this week it gave it a big ole wet smoochie. And it did so in #geekswithheart. Power to my geeks! Two of my absolute favoritest sexy ass sisters in geekhood @GeekGirls and @GeekyClean have come together to form Geeks With Heart, a fundraising effort to help Haiti. And yup, I just wanna hug ‘em.

All proceeds raised go to Mercy Corps. Mercy Corps mission: “Mercy Corps exists to alleviate suffering, poverty and oppression by helping people build secure, productive and just communities.” Their motto: “Be The Change.” I LOVE that! Just some of their efforts to help survivors in Haiti to recover include “ ‘Comfort for Kids,’ a trauma-counseling methodology for children that (they) co-developed and deployed after 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, the Sichuan Earthquake and other disasters.” Currently, they are "focused on immediate humanitarian needs: water and sanitation, trauma support and job creation.”

For those in doubt, while Geeks With Heart is small (for now!), Mercy Corps is big. This is what they do and they are good at it. They will know how to properly handle and disperse all funds raised to assure that they meet the greatest needs first. They’re pros y’all.

So, please, show some support. Show some geek love. Show some nongeek love. Just show the love. To do so…

Visit Geeks With Heart here.

Visit The Geek Girls Network here.

Visit Geeky Clean here.

Follow @geekgirls

Follow @geekyclean

Add a Twibbon here

Do me proud folks! This is the kind of moment I LIKE having!

I Have Failed As A Mom

2010-01-18T07:14:00.000-08:00

I have failed as a mom.

As a mother, it is my job to protect my monkeys from getting their feelings hurt as best as possible. This is one of the reasons why I am so very careful about who I bring into their lives and under what circumstances. Well I thought I was. But, people aren’t always what they seem to be. It’s hard enough as an adult to make sense out of the 180’s people sometimes do. No matter who you are, the mask eventually falls off. To Thine Own Self Be True is one of my mantras not only for the beauty of its wisdom, but for the warning that lies within. Try to be someone other than you and at some point it all comes to light. What is all that negative energy and time spent being someone you’re not really going to get you? I avoid masks completely. You’re lucky if you even see me in make up. While my personality and genuine interests are all kinds of quirky, which allows me to relate and get along with a huge variety of people, I am no one’s chameleon. What you see is what you get with me. Whether you experience me in 2D, 3D, hell even 38DD, I am me.

So what do I say to my monkeys when they want to know why we haven’t heard from people they feel are their friends, their lil buddies? “They’re just really busy right now babies” is my general excuse. In some cases I know I’m being honest, in others not so much. It sucks. Hard.

I have failed as a mom.

I have created and instilled the Monkey Family Motto- We’re All About The Love. They have personified it in every way. Yet I have failed to give them the tools to know that sometimes when you give big love, it’s not always honestly returned. Oh they know that when they smile and say hello to strangers, they may not get a smile and a hello back. Some people are shy, some people are grumpy, some people are so jaded they simply get confused when a stranger in our all too cynical society extends random kindness to them. They know that friends they meet and play with at a park, a playland, heck even a Target (cuz that’s how we roll) may just be that for a moment or a day. A great memory to carry on. They know not to take it personally.

I guess I didn’t think that at 4 and 5 I would have to start teaching and preparing them for the harsher realities in life. They’ve already had to experience enough of them on their own. I guess I thought that I had until Middle School before I had to teach them the ugly truth about playground warfare and the dreaded popularity contest. About fake smiles and “I love you’s” and hugs to your face as their eyes roll at your back while you walk away. People that will claim to be your friend, but ditch you when a better offer comes along. About fake sincerity, expendability and yup, masks. If it weren’t for my choices on who I allow in their life, I very well may have had until then.

I have failed as a mom.

I give honestly, embrace all and never treat people as though they are stepping-stones to some kind of bigger goal. When you get a smile, an “I love you” or a hug from me, that stuff is all kinds of sincere. Which is what I’ve taught the monkeys to be like. I try my best to lead my life by example. They see that sincerity. They see me around many different types of people in many different types of situations and they always see me. So, how do I continue to instill this in them and protect them from getting further hurt?

I have failed as a mom.

I’m not sure there is any real, feasible answer to this. The best that I have come up with is the need to guard myself better so that I may better guard them. The popularity contests and fake bullshit clearly don’t end in high school. It actually becomes worse in adulthood. I have seen people who were the odd one out growing up turn around and be the worst social ladder climbers out there. Where the hell does that ladder lead anyway? What does being the most popular person in the neighborhood or at work get you? What does Twitter or Facebook “cred” actually get you? Especially when all those people are rolling their eyes to your back as well? Life can be like the first half an hour of The Breakfast Club. If only everyone got the ending.

I can not and will not allow my monkeys’ feelings to be hurt again by people that I have brought or allowed into their lives. It is up to me to learn from this and make sure that I now focus on putting my energy into cultivating and continuing the relationships in my life that matter. That are REAL. That the people I surround myself with, in all aspects, whether they have ever or will ever meet my monkeys are REAL. No disrespect my dear Ministry, but everyday is NOT Halloween. Not in our lives anymore. Mask wearers need not apply.

So, for my monkeys and for me my focus is going to be on nurturing QUALITY friendships/relationships. QUANTITY means nothing. Give me 3 friends I know would walk through hell and back again with me versus 100 acquaintances that say they care but disappear or worse. This new year is going to be one that breathes in the good, the real, the sincere…. And out with the bad, the two-faced, the dishonest, the fake. We are all about the love, if you’re not- exit is to your left. I already have the Barbie myth to contend with in their lives. That’s the only fake bitch allowed. For now, she’s next.

Dear 2010, I see you!

2010-01-05T09:02:00.000-08:00

I will not make anything resembling a resolution. I simply refuse. The reason being that I recognize that I am a perpetual work in progress no matter the time of year. Taking a good, hard , honest look at myself on a regular basis is something I’m actually fairly good at. As I also fall into the “my own worst critic” category, I tend to have no problem constantly tweaking my script to make it run smoother, more efficiently, or just plain look prettier.

More importantly, I have long since learned that life is what happens when we’re busy making plans. You can file all the TPS reports you want to on time, she doesn’t always read them or get the memo.

I see you 2010. You’ve already started out with a bang and show such potential. That’s right, I’ve got my eye on you. Oh yeah, I’m going to take that potential, add a dash of hot sauce, grill it up and serve it with a side of promise and demand you continue to crank out more. Life can keep chucking what she wants at me, I may not control what she chooses to toss my way, but I do control how I react to it. And I am more than ready.

I declare you, 2010, to be fabulous.

For myself, I declare that I will embrace all that opportunity I see you toting. I declare that I will continue to breathe. In with the good… out with the bad baby. I declare that I will continue onward and upward. I declare that I will venture forth all of your 365 days and accompanying nights with a smile on my face for each one. I declare that I shall continue to openly make my voice heard as needed. That my ears will remain available and my shoulders sturdy for those who need them. That my eyes, my mind and my heart will be open longer than 7-11.

I hope anyone reading this is ready, you've been warned ;)

I declare, my dear 2010, that you and I will kick some major ass. Yup, I’ve got my eye on you 2010.

Should You Choose To Accept It

2009-12-11T09:51:00.000-08:00

I genuinely love this time of year. Like mad, crazy love it. For sooo very many reasons. The snow. The mistletoe. The twinkling lights. The little old ladies with obnoxious sweaters that play jingle bells and ho ho ho at you. The cocoa. The giant catalogue of music devoted to it. The old school, new school, cheesy as all get out Christmas programs. Most of all, I love the love. The spirit of giving that commercialism and society has done it’s best to bastardize. I refuse to allow them to ruin it for me and everyone that I come in contact with. Yes, I am the woman that smiles and says “Happy Holidays!” to everyone. With all honesty, I confess that if any one of the mythical wish granting creatures came to me and said “You have one wish, anything you want, what’s it gonna be girlie?” I would say “I wish that on Christmas morning everyone on this planet, everywhere, no matter what faith they embrace, no matter what beliefs they hold dear, no matter how naughty or nice they are, would wake up and find the one thing that would make them truly happy wrapped with a pretty bow waiting just for them.

All of this should be all year round though. Ok, maybe not the snow. But, that love. That feeling of genuine good will toward others that this time of year reminds us all is so important. Yup, the love. I so wish that would remain all the days of the year.

If you know me at all, you know that our lil monkey family motto is “We’re all about the love.” Not just love for each other, but love for everyone else. So, this is our time of year so to speak. All year long we give love to those whose paths cross ours, but this time of year, people are much more receptive to it. The monkeys have fully embraced the mission and are so good at it. They love to smile at everyone and yell “Happy Holidays!!” And it never fails to bring a smile. Their absolute favorite thing to do though, is accost every bell ringer, every red bucket keeper. My laundry quarter supply has already long been exhausted and if they even remotely see a single in my wallet, they claim it. When they are done gleefully putting whatever I have in the bucket, they always hug the person with the bell, thank them and give them the big ole “happy holidays.” I love that about them. Of course this means that I need to really start budgeting for a “bucket fund” every year now, but where it goes, what it does and the monkey cry “MOMMMMMY THERE’S A BUCKET!!!!” is so worth it.

Even though I love all of this, it’s not easy. There are days when I have to struggle to feel it. To remember why it’s so important. The motto exists, in part, not just to teach them an important life lesson, but to remind myself as well. In some ways, I am selflishly creating my own little cheerleaders.

One of the reasons it’s not easy is I’m waging this lil happy love war on my own. When I say I’m a single mom, I mean single. Their father is an ass of epic proportions and for many reasons. He sees them four days a month at most. Of course he made it a point to have joint custody on paper so he wouldn’t have to pay child support. He’s yet to actual uphold the “joint” in any way, shape or form. In fact, he doesn’t even talk to them the weeks in between visits. All of that I just can’t fathom at all. But, every time he breaks a promise, every time he takes them for a weekend and ignores them while they are there, every time one has a birthday and he completely fails to acknowledge it, it’s me that has to make up for it. To try to explain to them that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love them. They’re getting smarter too and it’s becoming so much harder to come up with answers. All I can do is do the best that I can and try not to remember that they deserve so much more. Ironically I am like the Grinch. My little Cindy Loos look at me and sweetly say “Why are you taking our Christmas tree, why?” And I attempt to cleverly spit out a convincing reason they will buy, knowing in my heart, it may not be right.

This is something I know I am not alone in. Not even close. This time of year is said to be for the children. Those of us, no matter what our circumstances are, with children want to make it the most magical time ever for them. The pressures of life as an adult don’t go away at all so we can do so. In fact, sometimes they are more glaringly obvious this time of year. Whether it’s broken relationships, financial stress, that pang of hurt that loved ones lost are not around to celebrate with you or any of the myriad of struggles we are all facing in this crazy thing called life, this time of year can amplify them. So we bobble back and forth and sometimes just fight to keep our heads above water some days. Which makes that little smile, that little “Happy Holidays” so much more important.

Besides the red bucket rampage, we have developed another monkey family holiday mission. We find something to do as a family to help other people. Last year it was picking a name and item for a child in need and going shopping for it and wrapping it together. This year, I have been lucky enough to be drawn to something I feel embraces exactly what we all need this time of year. We as in not just the monkey family, but ALL of us in the area. Yup, all us lil human creatures, great and small.

I had the really good fortune recently of being introduced to an amazing woman named Bernadette Xiong, or Coach Bx as you may know her. She is all about making a difference in peoples lives and that in and of itself is a reason to love this woman. This holiday season, she has come up with an event that is a two-part bundle of wonderful. It takes place on Saturday, December 19th from 2pm-5pm and not only offers so much for those that attend, it continues to give that on to one of the amazing sponsors of the event.

It’s called “Healing Your Heart: A Hopeful Holiday Event.”

Earn a smile while giving one to a child.

Challenging finances, marriages, relationships and family are all difficult subjects to handle alone. This event will provide parents and children fun ways to heal the heart by channeling that energy through artistic and creative means including:

Arts & Crafts
Santa Claus Toy Drive for Charity
Bake Sale & Cookie Decorating
Face Painting, Balloons and Games
Complimentary Gift Wrapping for Those That Donate a Toy
Words from the Heart by Coach Bx

The sponsor I mentioned that will be receiving the toys to distribute is COA Youth and Family Centers. COA Youth & Family Centers helps Milwaukee children, teens, and families reach their greatest potential through a continuum of educational, recreational, and social work programs offered at its urban community centers and rural camp facility. They have been serving children, strengthening families and building community since 1906.

To top it all off- it’s being hosted at Independence First. Another sponsor who is making such a difference in peoples lives. Are you sensing a theme here? IndependenceFirst is a non-profit agency directed by, and for the benefit of, persons with disabilities, primarily serving the four county metropolitan Milwaukee area. Their agency mission is to effectively facilitate empowerment of individuals with disabilities through:

Education, Advocacy, Independent Living Services, and Coalition Building

They promote diversity and multicultural participation in our operation and services.

The four “core” services offered are: independent living skills training, peer counseling, advocacy, and information and referral services to persons with disabilities in the counties of Waukesha, Washington, Ozaukee, and Milwaukee. IndependenceFirst provides services to persons with disabilities of ALL kinds, throughout ALL age groups.

Topping off the list of incredible sponsors is MilwaukeeMoms.com. If there is anyone that understands the good, the bad, the ugly and the bliss of being a parent, it's MilwaukeeMoms.com. When MetroParent and MilwaukeeMoms.com say "making life just a little bit easier..." they mean it! They are a resource and fountain of sanity for moms and dads alike.

To say the monkeys and I are beyond excited to be helping out with the arts and crafts for this event is an understatement. And because we are indeed all about the love, we have a challenge for you. That’s right. We are challenging YOU. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to join us in our holiday mission this year. Be a part of something great. Any part you can. Ultimately, my hope is you will all come to this event. Stop by and FEEL the love. the healing. Give a smile. Can’t make it? Sponsor someone who can! Read this and pass it on. Follow @CoachBx. Retweet, repost, reblip. Come up with your own posts that include the links. Add the twibbon to your avatar. Use the #HealYourHeart .

I don’t ask a lot of the people around me. I’m not one of those please RT or repost all the timers. This time I am though. I really believe this is important.

So, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to show me the love. Spread it wide, spread it far. And by gosh by golly, Happy Holidays everyone!

Important links:

Space is limited for this event, so you MUST register in advance. To do so, please use this link.

If you are on Twitter- let other tweeps know you are coming! Respond to the Twitvite here.

Better yet, whether you are able to make it or not, add a Twibbon to support #HealYourHeart here.

Our lovely sponsors:

For more information on COA Youth & Family Centers, please visit their site here.

For more information on IndependenceFirst, you may visit their site here.

For more information MilwaukeeMoms.com and to help make your life a little bit easier, visit their site here.

If you have any questions, comments, concerns, witty antidotes or toys to share, please do not hesitate to contact me. You should also definitely start following @CoachBx cuz yeah, she rocks. While you're at it, check out her site here.

Yo! I Got Your Love Right Here!

2009-12-02T07:52:00.000-08:00

The monkeys were on a Black Eyed Peas kick last week. “It makes us giggle and makes our booties wiggle” is their reasoning. Can’t argue with that! We actually bravely ventured out for a bit on Black Friday. We were so not the early birds though. We were like the 9am birds. Our first stop was breakfast, then on to pick out Christmas mornin’ jammies (our lil tradition), various fun deals (hello Goonies for $3.99) and then ultimately our Christmas Tree (it’s up and lit, no decorations yet though).

Merrily cruising along on the way home when track #17 of the BEP CD I made them comes on. It’s “Where is the Love?” Thinking they’d passed out because they were actually quiet, Eldest Monkey screams “STOP! PULL OVER MOMMY!!” scaring the absolute shit outta me. To the point where I actually throw on my blinker and pull over on the side of the road, my heart thumping louder than the bass in the song. I slam it into park and spin around to ask EM what is wrong, doing a quick scan for blood or some proof of silent mayhem. She replies “You gotta call them now mommy.” “Umm…. Who am I calling and why baby?” “The Peas mommy, you gotta call them right now.” I know I should be PISSED because she’s screaming for me to pull over and they are both fine, but instead I’m just staring at her all perplexed. Deep breath.

“Well honey, I don’t have their phone numbers and why would I be calling them? “ Her lil eyes started to tear up as she fought to explain. “You just have to find their numbers mommy. You have to! They are so sad and they can’t find the love because of all this bad stuff that is going on in the world. They need to know mommy. They need to know that people care and help each other. They need to know that there are people out here that care about EVERYONE and would always help them and not hurt them. You taught us how to smile and show love to EVERYONE no matter how they treat us or where they are from or what they look like. Even when they are super grumpy. And especially when we don’t even know them. They need to know mommy that we got their love right here. No one loves more than we do. You taught us life is all about love. That we are all about love and the monkey family does give really good love mommy. You taught us how to. You just gotta call them and tell them that mommy. ”

Yeah, halfway through that I started tearing. It killed me to look at her and say “Baby, they are famous and famous people don’t put their phone numbers out there for everyone to see. “

Then the lilest monkey plucks the thumb out of her mouth and with such conviction says “It’s easy mommy, you just email them mommy and say ‘Yo! I got your love right here!’ Yup. That’s what ya do. You can google that.”

I freakin’ love my lil monkeys. And they’re right. We do give good love. ☺ So, to the Black Eyed Peas and everyone that’s ever wondered just where is the love? We say Yo! I got your love right here!

Damned By A Ding

2009-11-19T04:38:00.000-08:00

I like it when my phone dings. Just the tone makes me smile. It means I have a text, which means someone is thinking of me. Whether it's "Good morning, Sunshine", "Call me hooker", or the kind of rare but treasured "I love you"- I smile. It's a good noise. Usually.

This last week, ok make that two, has been emotional for me. You may not be able to tell, I hide it well. In fact, you need to be pretty fluent in Natali to know when something is really up. Most people aren't brave enough to master Natali. But, yeah, a lot going on inside lately. Don't start Googling local crisis hotline numbers yet, it's not all been bad, some of it really good. That and it's certainly nothing I can't handle and eventually figure out. Either way, it's left me feeling a little raw, definitely drained and I still have some emotions to sort out.

The drained part caught up with me last night. Once Operation Monkey Wrestle Down takes place for the night, when they've been tucked in, read to, lullabyed and smooched a million times, I need to remain fairly quiet until the snores are heard. Tonight was another creative stalling tactics night. While practicing the art of ninja stealth like quietness, I managed to fall asleep on the couch. Ninja fail there, that'll get ya caught. At 10:46 the sound that makes me smile so jostled me awake. I sat there, smile still on face, eyebrow furrowed, staring down at a number I didn't recognize and a cryptic message. A couple of weeks ago I purged quite a few people from my contacts, so the furrowed brow got furroweder as I attempted to wrap my mind around it all. The text read "I would like 2 talk 2 u soon. let me know if that is ok. I jst want 2 make peace w all those that mtr 2 me b 4 its 2 late. Pleze let me know eithr way." I figured it was the wrong number and sent a "Who is this?". I sure as fuck wasn't expecting the answer I got.

There are two women in my life I have referred to as my adopted sister for decades. Our bond has transcended that of mere friendship. It is a true sisterhood. One, C, is the only person that knows every single thing I have been through in my life. The text was from her ex husband, G, who was like a brother to me. I was the only woman he could never charm his way out of an argument with. I was his greatest opponent in a battle of the wits (and we had some knock down, drag out ones). I was the only one that called him on his bullshit. Eventually when I met my ex (which is another thing I can blame him for), he and G became best friends. The four of us were a dysfunctional little family.

Then it all started to change. There is a barrage of players and events within this, but I'm going to try to keep this simple for once and stick to us four. The change was only noticed by me. It's amazing how at times I can pick up the tiniest detail and see how the hand will play out. G hurt his back and what started as Vicodin, turned to Percocet and eventually to Heroin. Using turned to dealing. I watched him like a bullet train speeding toward those dead ends you see in the RoadRunner cartoons that lead Wil E. right off a cliff. I tried talking to all three of them. Really, I did. But, no one would listen. C & my ex popped open a can of denial and guzzled it daily. G was already a demi god in his own mind and his thick skulled lil head would hear nothing that indicated otherwise. I felt like fucking Cassndara. (For those of you not hip to the Greek stories, for which I so don't blame you, she was given the gift of prophecy. She could see the future in all its clarity. Girl wouldn't put out for Apollo though so he got pissed and cursed her with the tragedy that while she could forsee the future, no one would believe her. I think it was Apollo. I'm too tired to look it up and you all get the point anyway.) All I could do was stand there and watch. I braced myself and did my best to prepare to clean up a mess. No one makes a mess quite like G. Lying, cheating, stealing and when all was said and done, he was behind bars and I had a sister and a fiance that were completely gutted.

G knew my terms. Everyone who truly knows me knows that you can treat me like utter shit and I will take what I can of it until I get to the point where I just walk away. But, when you hurt someone I love, claws and fangs come out and I'm wiping the blood from your jugular off my face before you know what hit you. I am fiercely protective of those I love. I also know what will hurt you most. Went I went with C to go see him in jail after he was arrested, I completely ignored him. Not in that refusing to make eye contact and just keep looking everywhere but at him kind of way. In a staring through the glass, through him like he no longer existed kind of way. The only acknowledgment he got from me was when he told C that he would be out in two weeks and was going to make everything all right. That's when I looked him in the eyes and laughed my ass off.

He served far more than two weeks. C and him were divorced while he was in prison. She continued to visit him. I never judged her for doing so, I just supported her the best I could. When she made claims of him changing, I replied "only time will tell." I knew he hadn't really at that point. After a few years, he made it out. I saw him once while he was at C's shortly after I had kicked the ex out. She asked me to see him and for her, I complied. C asked me to forgive him. When I managed to see some resemblance to the man that was once my brother of sorts, I did.

Then his dumb ass ended up back in. There's another series of events I will spare you, but the arrest is epic. It's been over a year now since it happened. My ex's roommate when I met him was a cop. He stood up in our wedding. It was him that busted G this time around. Karma does know how to give one hell of a bitchslap. It really was brilliant.

The kicker to all this is he has cancer now. He's dying. C won't bring him up to me unless I ask and I don't ask. Part of me is really pissed she didn't warn me he was out again. Seriously, that's totally gotta break some sort of chick rule. There must be a "hey he got paroled" clause somewhere. My answer to his text was that I would talk to him, tomorrow. Which is technically today now. He continued to let me know that A. He still loves me and B. He's sorry. And now I'm left wondering what to say to him.

I come bearing my own irony to this as well. I was just discussing a very, very dear friend of mine, B, who passed away four years ago. I miss him so much. He is also one of my very few regrets in life. HE was going to be my next post. G and him actually grew up in the same town and went to the same school at the same time, but they were never friends. My regret with B was my failure to see him bullet training toward his own dead end. My life at that time was really busy, I was pregnant with lilest monkey when he died. I just wish I could hug him and tell him I'm sorry. I know that doing so with G won't change my regret with B. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this is the powers that be giving me another shot. A do over. I will not apologize to G though. I don't feel a need to. No matter what, I have no clue what to really say. I know he wants validation that I still love him. I don't know that I do and I am not one to just say I love you for the sake of it. Then again, he is dying. So, if this eases his conscience(though I'm not entirely certain he deserves it), does it matter?

I'm feeling pretty damned by that ding now.

Damn Dark Side Snails

2009-11-06T04:35:00.000-08:00

So, the other day I had to venture in to Petco. This time for a beefier replacement for Princess Leia before the monkeys returned home. Cause of the demise of Ms. Leia? Uncertain. But, if you ask me those damn little snails staged a coup and are in cohorts with the dark side. And to think I was going to put on some Barry White for them while they were getting it on. Ungrateful bastards.

As I strolled through the automatic doors, I stood, paused in front of the giant white board on the easel boasting of the “Pumpkin Spice” treatments in the puppy spa. Pamper your pooch with a Pumpkin Spice shampoo and Pumpkin Spice conditioner treatments and they’ll throw in a splash of Pumpkin Spice puppy perfume or cologne for free. I still haven’t figured out what’s worse- the fact that someone would pay $40 to do that to their dog or the fact that the poor dog has to walk around wreaking of a food they can’t eat. You wanna smell pumpkin, go buy a fucking candle.

Sighing, I shake my head and continue through the second set of automatic doors and on with “Operation Help Me Obi Wan.” What’s the first thing that smacks me in the face? A ginormous Christmas display chocked full of holiday goodies for all the creatures in your life. Never mind the fact that it is merely November the 1st. Children all over are still in borderline diabetic comas from the hordes of Halloween candy obtained less than 24 hours ago. Makes me wonder when the puppy spa is going Egg Nog with their special.

I venture onward through the store, avoiding the urge to glance at anything that is not directly involved with my task at hand. Mission accomplished easy enough and before I know it, I’m on the way to the register with our new Leia (this one looks like she may be able to throw down a bit if need be). This time I allow myself to look around.

It started with a giant tank with two painted turtles in it. They were laying side by side, their short little necks intertwined with each other, blissfully slumbering with I swear little turtle smiles. In a tank next to them were a pile of lizards all cozied up together. Birds, guinea pigs, hamsters, rats all snuggled together in pairs or groups looking so peaceful. So content. At the end of my journey was the ferret home. A pile of four laid wrapped up all wonky-like with their lil ferret smiles. All breathing in unison. I watched two sitting together eating for a while. They stopped for a bit and one randomly smacked the other one. For all I know he told her to slow down she was starting to get a little chunky in the thighs. Then two seconds later their arms were on each others shoulders and they were making out. Ok, so they could have been trying to lick food off of each others faces, but it was so damned cute.

Eventually the new princess and I made our way to the car. I sat there for a while thinking. Behind that crappy wall of pumpkin scented, Santa covered commercialistic bullshit lay a lesson. Inside the many bars of metal and glass full of balls of fur, scales, shells, feathers, you name it, was a whole lot of love. You can insert your argument regarding some theory that it is based solely on the fact that they are out of their natural environments, trapped in cages and merely trying to survive under the unnatural glow of florescent here. You know what though? They are doing it together. There was no renegade gerbil threatening to go all prison warfare on another one over space and food. As for that ferret, well you tell a girl she should stop eating cuz she’s plumpin up and you’ve kind of got it coming and she totally loved him up right after. There were no games, no manipulations. No fur pulling over the rabbit version of Flavor Flave. No uttering I love you then disappearing. No turf wars. No giggling at the odd critter out because oh my gosh, she’s not pure bred.

You may not know this about me but while I am a pretty openly caring, person and freely give of myself, I keep my heart guarded tightly. Like Fort Knox on crack tightly. I have a large capacity for love with a thick wall around my heart. Once someone sneaks in there, they have the ability to do a lot of damage. I’m a tough girl, but once a chunk of my heart goes, I tend to not ever really get it back. The deeper I let them in, the bigger the chunk they can take with them when they leave. Again, don’t get me wrong, I am all about the love, but I try very hard to keep personal collateral damage to a minimum. I’ve never had to worry about that with my cats. Seriously, animals are way fucking cool like that. They see the good, the bad and the ugly and not only still love you, but many would lay down their own lives for you. Zen maybe not so much, he’s old, fat and spoiled. But he always knows when I’m hurting and he always knows how to make it hurt just a little less. He always has time for me. He may love up another human, I still know I’m his favorite. He can wander the house all day but religiously at night he’s there by my head while I sleep. I always know he loves the hell out of me. It’s one thing I’m never given cause to question. It’s a constant I can always count on.

Sitting there in my car, I made an important, life-altering decision. I’m going to be the first ever crazy cat AND ferret lady. Yup. A girl’s gotta have goals. Proud of my new realization, I start my car only to hear Beck’s “Loser.” I couldn’t help but laugh with a tear or two in my eye. At least Princess Leia II is still alive and kicking. For now. Damn Dark Side Snails.

Yup, I’ve got boobies

2009-10-01T11:56:00.000-07:00

They say every family has a black sheep. Well, my aunt Carol was the rainbow colored one. To me she will not only always be my favorite aunt, but one of the best female role models I had and will ever have. Aunt Carol redefined original. You can walk to the beat of your own drum, she had her own five piece band. If Lucille Ball, Betty Page and Audrey Hepburn had a lovechild, maybe, just maybe, you could come kind of close. Funny as hell, yet equally graceful. Ladylike manners when she was telling someone to go to hell (and believe me they had it coming). Dancing forward through life bold and brave, yet always thinking of others first.

She was the oldest of five siblings in a household that saw many rough times. My grandfather died young, barely in his 50’s at the time thanks to the working conditions he was in day in and day out. No matter how bad things were, she always made sure all of her brothers and sisters had a present beneath the tree on Christmas morning and every lovingly wrapped present was from “Santa.” Oh how she loved Christmas. Trips to her house in Minneapolis were my favorite times ever growing up. Second only to their trips down here. Trips, I am very grateful to say, that happened pretty frequently.

Aunt Carol was also my very first official Partner in Crime. Many of you know that I inappropriately grope my coffee mug every morning. What you don’t know is how deep my love of coffee goes. Ever since I can remember, I have loved it. I would bug my parents incessantly when I was little for some. As it would “stunt my growth,” it was off limits. Bless Dannon’s heart though, they made a coffee yogurt that my parents would get me. When we visited aunt Carol, she would sneak it to me. She was so slick about it too. When she made me hot cocoa, she’d use coffee instead of water. We called them “Cocoa Mochoas” and they were our little secret. They were so delish. That’s right, screw you Starbucks. I still make them for myself during the winter. And it still brings tears to my eyes on the first sip.

I have a million great aunt Carol stories. But damn it, I should have a million more. My monkeys should have their own arsenal of great aunt Carol stories forming. OMG she would so love them. And she would so be their favorite. But, Cancer felt otherwise. Fuck you very much Cancer. I swear one day you will wreak the just desserts you deserve. If only it were a person we could torture for decades day in and day out.

It was roughly the late 80’s when she was first diagnosed with Breast Cancer. A time when little was really known about it and old people whispered “Cancer” as though anything louder would summon it like a beast from the deepest bowels of Hades. No one wants to wake that beast. Doctor’s didn’t really do mastectomies. Radiation and chemotherapy were their sole weapons of choice. “It’s not the Cancer that kills you, it’s the treatment” we’d hear over and over. WTF does that mean?? Then why do it?? She beat it over and over again. A tumor would pop up and she’d ride it out until it was gone. Then I guess it got really pissed. It came back with a vengeance and it spread. At one time she had a brain tumor the size of a golf ball on her brain. Oh the grin on her face when she looked back at the baffled doctors when she lived through the treatment for that one and it had completely disappeared. Eventually, the beast decided to devour her entire body at once. No holds barred, spitting in the face of all the prayers and hopes for recovery. The last 3 1/2 months or so of her life, my mother lived there so she could take care of her. Every Friday after school, my dad and I would make the somber trip up. Every Sunday, the dreaded ride home. No matter how bad she felt,, even when she was down to 84 lbs and you could SEE the tumors all over as she lay in her hospital bed, aunt Carol was always smiling. She never once complained, never once screamed “why me?!?” and she always asked how you were doing right at first sight.. Not out of a point of formality, but because she truly cared.

I was 15 when she was taken from us. Her funeral is still vividly etched in my mind. I sat paralyzed at the back of the funeral home at her wake, praying repeatedly that it was just a nightmare and I’d wake up any minute in my own bed, back in Wisconsin. That is until I noticed my grandma alone in her own little corner with the same desperate look on her face. My ever constant personification of strength sat there looking so small and fragile. Like the weathered depiction of heartbreak. It pained me to hear her “no” when I asked her if she’d gone up yet. Everyone was so busy surfing their own overwhelming tide of pain that she got lost in the proverbial shuffle. So, I took a deep breath, grabbed her hand and up we went. Our slow and heavy stride in unison, the closer we got, the tighter our grip to each other. When we got there, both of our breaths were held as we looked down at our own version of an angel knowing each other well enough to know that we wouldn’t be uttering the typical “they did a really nice job on her” or “she looks peaceful” bullshit. Nope. We were both thinking “ fuck you, I want her back.” There is only so much heartbreak even the strongest of people can bear and grandma, though tough as nails, was no different. She lost it. Yup, grandma literally tried to climb into the casket with her. I thought she was just going to hug her goodbye. I should have known better before I saw her little leg hike up over the top of the casket. It’s ok, you can laugh at the image. I can giggle a bit about it now. Knowing I was about to get my ass kicked, I proceeded to pull grandma up off of aunt Carol and the casket. I swear to you she was laughing her ass off up in heaven looking down at the scene. Everyone else stood there dumbfounded. It didn’t sink in until I had struggled/dragged grandma half way to the exit door of the funeral home and by then she was in no mood to be coddled by them. I am proud to say I had the sense to grab her purse on the way out and not just for the possible need for self defense should she try to turn and make a run for the casket again. When we got outside, I shoved a cigarette in her mouth, lit it, did the same (not many can say they smoked their first cigarette with their grandma nor that it was a Pall Mall straight) and said “go ahead and hit me for saying it, but someday, this is all going to be ok. It’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch and that pain will never really go away, but it will be ok.” She took a long deep drag, looked at me and said “You’re right, I do wanna punch you and it does hurt like hell. But, no one loves you more than I do. Thank you Carol Ann.” For months she would repeatedly call me Carol Ann. For years after she would still slip and do it on occasion. You know what, it was the best compliment I have received. That I will ever receive.

So, yesterday I stumbled upon @boobiewed on Twitter. I always support Breast Cancer awareness and the fight to end it day in and day out. This is our month though. What @shimmer418 and @honey_is_evil are doing is amazing, brave and yes, fun. Above all, I found it very liberating. The goal is to show your breasts on Wednesdays across Twitter to raise awareness for Breast Cancer. I’ve seen people bare their breasts for awareness before, but I have never had the courage to do it. I’ve had issues with mine for the better part of my life now. I showed up to fifth grade sporting a b cup on my (then) little frame. My maiden name ends in witz which was changed to “tits” for that whole year. And the damn things just kept growing. Teen years with a D cup was rough. By the time they hit DD, they had turned into an entity of their own to some respects. No matter how hard I tried to hide them, they were ogled. Older people would talk to me like I was stupid because I had big breasts. I know, it’s like the size 4 friend we all have that likes to complain about being fat while we all want to smack the shit out of her. It’s really not my intent. And in all honesty, I don’t have the right. My point is that I’ve got some body issues going on, which every one of us does whether we admit it or not on some level. My tatas just happen to be one of the biggest catalysts for that. No pun intended there. Even though I’ve come to terms with them in some aspects, I still always hide them. Until yesterday. I thought about it, thought about aunt Carol and my grandma and lifted my shirt, snapped a pic and plastered my polka dot bra proudly all over my lil corner of Twitter. And, I will continue to do so. Hell, I submitted it to the @boobiethon today.

I am sure I speak for all those involved when I say that if just one person learns to do regular self exams, one person learns they may be at risk, one person learns about early detection, then by god it is more than worth it. There are some of my sisters out there that have battled Breast Cancer and won that don’t have the luxury of bitching about breast size any longer. They are merely thankful to be alive. So, for them, for my aunt Carol (who was the polka dot bra in the drawer of life), my monkeys and for every woman out there I say “Yup, I have boobies. I am proud of them, I vow to examine them regularly and to remind every woman in my life to be proud of theirs and do the same.”

Please take the time to follow: @boobiewed, @shimmer418, @honey_is_evil and @boobiethon.

Please take the time to visit:

The Official BoobieWed Page

The Official Boobiethon Page

And, pretty please with bra whose underwire never pops out on top, check your breasts monthly, encourage the women and men (yes boys, while you cannot live the dream of staying home and fondling them all day, you are able to get it as well, though much more rare) in your lives to do the same. Get involved, help raise awareness and show us your tatas!

*Please feel free to e-mail me at JustNatali@gmail.com with any links or tweeps you would like added to my next post which will be a resource of information regarding Breast Cancer. Give me your touching, your funny, your painful, your medical, whatever you would like. I welcome them all. Hell, I’m even going to post a pattern on how to knit a breast. Seriously. One survivor uses them for implants in her bras. I would LOVE to start a group that knits them for survivors, so if you are interested in that, shoot me an e-mail too.

Solace Complete With Coop

2009-09-18T17:11:00.000-07:00

Though I am a firm believer in “everything happens for a reason” when I’m down or upset, I’ll still wanna smack ya for telling me that. No matter how much I know it’s true. So, for the last day or so, I’ve been just off. Kinda up and down and all over the place. Like more all over than usual. Life’s been chucking curve balls and so go go go this last two months, I think it may just be finally catching up. If you’ve been reading my lil ramblings, you know one of the biggest upheavals was our move back to the town I grew up in. I will never be a cheerleader for this town, but today, I found some solace.

Well, this morning was rough. Lil one is still mopey that sis is going to school. On the way home from dropping her off, lilest yelled “LOOK MOMMY A RUMMAGE SIGN!! Can we go???” I figured, sure, why not. We’re driving down the long street and not seeing anything. I’m just about to give up and I spot a barrel with two blaze orange flags sticking out of it at the end of a driveway. The house that hugs this driveway was a beautiful, almost log cabin looking house. One of those that beckons you to come inside and put your feet up for a spell. I look down the driveway and see a full working stop and go light flashing and yup, rummage stuff. The light alone was enough to tell me it was going to be fun. When I began walking down the driveway, lilest monkey in hand, I realized that this was going to be much more than fun. It was transforming. Invigorating. Comforting. Blissful. Slightly sad, but all around wonderful.

At first site I spotted two HUGE displays of hand made purses and scarves galore. I had found me a knitter. A damn good one at that. To my left, just past them, were two HUGE bags full of beautiful wool yarn. Price $5.00 each. Seriously one skein of them was worth more than that alone. Lil one spots a box of books and we start digging through. For a whopping 10 cents a piece, they have a bunch of Little Miss books and a book long packed away in my memory. Spider saves Christmas. Spider and Peanut were scholastic books from waaaay back in the day when I was little. So, I tell lilest to go nuts and pick out whatever she wants while I check out what’s in the garage.

Two steps in I stop and tears well up. There on a table before me were stacks of artwork done by Mr. Pierce. He was my first art teacher ever and was amazing. He came in to our elementary school on a special basis and I just loved him. While registering eldest monkey for school, the walls of the hallways in the school administration building were peppered with the same work of his I remember once hanging at my school. I stopped to explain to the girls who he was and how wonderful he was. I began wondering what had happened to him. Today I found out. Mr. Pierce is no longer with us. But, I now have in my collection a wealth of his work. Ink drawing after ink drawing that will forever remain priceless to me. Including many drawings of, yes, monkeys.

While I lovingly went through them all, secretly wanting to just purchase them all and horde them, lilest discovered their chicken coop. Seriously, a coop with two live chickens. One laying an egg as we lingered there. The couple that were rocking on their back porch, him smiling, her chatting with us and crocheting (she does knit too), entertained lil one with stories about the chickens. The woman, Cathy, then came over and took the male out and let lil one pet him. His name was Raven. By the time I had finished sorting through my memories on art board, lil one was in a rocking chair on the porch gleefully petting Raven and chatting about the scarf I was making her for winter.

All of my artwork, two big bags of yarn, countless books, two leather binders, a big ole box of vintage Valentines and a huge art pad cost me all of $15.00. We actually hugged our goodbyes to the couple and made our voyage back to our getter. While loading our new prize purchases in, Cathy came running down the driveway (she’s pretty spry for her age) yelling “WAIT!” She brought this giant red plastic case and told us we could have it for free, to put all the new books in. She then asked us to come back any time we want to say hi and pet the chickens. Then, more hugs all around.

It wasn’t a difficult decision, next week lil one and I are going to bake some banana bread and stop on by. And to hell with a whole knitting group, I think I found me a new knitting pal.

As I drove home, which was just a hop and skip away, I realized, I had found my spot. The spot in this town that made me cease to feel quite so displaced. A point of reference that reminded me that home is indeed where you hang your heart. The view outside your window may contain ugliness, unpleasantness or way too much Stepford for your taste, but the warmth inside remains. Outside our door may lead to Monotonous Flaws, but inside is the eastside, bay view, even the SF bay area. It is what we make it. And just down the street and up the driveway is solace, complete with a chicken coop

Secret Sex Life of Snails

2009-09-14T06:00:00.000-07:00

When it comes to memories, elephants got nothin’ on my monkeys. Back in like May we were at Wally World getting my oh so beloved Sudafed and crabbiness ensued. So, in an attempt to redirect, I told them if they were good, I’d take them to see the fishies. Thus a ritual began. Every trip to Wally World led to a pass by the fish. When they first saw them, they of course wanted to bring them all home. “But mommy we can have a whole wall of tanks." I knew we were going to be moving in the next couple of months and moving fish is NOT fun. So, I told them when we moved, we’d get some fish. They made me pinky swear.

Months later, we did indeed move. Two days after that, they began to not only ask when we were going to get fish, but reminded me that I did pinky swear. Never mind boxes were everywhere, complete exhaustion on my part and having to run around the entire town a million times to get eldest signed up for school, they wanted their fishies. So, I did what any mom in my position would do. I stalled my ass off.

End of August neared and eldest monkey’s birthday rolled around. Yup, mom got her a fish tank. We marched into Wally World and marched out with a feeder goldfish lilest monkey named Tink, a “fancy” goldfish I named sushi, a spotted Molly eldest monkey named Wonder Woman and Chauncey The Wondersnail. Oh the love and excitement. They wanted to sleep by the tank. They wanted to tuck them all in with blankets and yes, I had to sing the tank the bloomin’ lullaby.

Next morning Chauncey ole love was bobbing around on the top of the water, floating like a lil golden apple. I am FREAKING and googling the hell out of Gold Mystery Snails. We have to rush off to start the day. On the way home, I decide to stop at the pet store and see what they think of what I read and get Chauncey “a friend,” just in case. Kind of a soften the blow kind of thing.

Before we walk in there, I type up a lil explanation of what’s going on to show the sales person on my iPhone notes. (I swear I would marry that phone and bear its children.) She rocks and did really well with explaining it without the monkeys catching on. Of course it helped they were wielding their own mini carts (which amped my anxiety off the charts) and were distracted by more fish. She agreed it could just be an air bubble and instructed me how to handle it. WOOT! Small problem- they didn’t have ANY snails. Grrr. But, the girls spotted the smallest lil African Dwarf Frog I’ve ever seen. Seriously, it’s like Über Dwarf. So, we brought Princess Leia home and added her to the aquatic tribe.

BTW, we get home and and that lil shit Chauncey is happily whipping around the tank. Sneaky lil snail.

Two days later the lights go out on the tank. Grrr..

Then Wednesday morning rolls around and the dreaded has happened. Wonder Woman is so not wonderful any longer. Thankfully, instead of floating to the top, she’d gotten stuck between the wall of the tank and the giant dayglow colored stone thingie that I thought was obnoxious when the girls picked it out, but now want to hug. Eldest thinks her fish is just sleeping.

Now, lil miss “Wonder Woman’s Mommy” just started kindergarten the week before so she is a wee bit on the emotional side right now. Plus, if there’s a way to keep my kids from suffering a loss, even just a fish, I’m gonna take it. Knowing her lil sister will rat me out in a heartbeat (I seriously tried to give her a lesson on avoiding the complete truth to keep from really hurting another person’s feelings the week prior. I know mother of the year here. She ate a coveted Lunchable while eldest was at school and I told her instead of saying a Lunchable, just list the contents of it when eldest asked her what she had for lunch. First words outta her mouth when eldest climbed in the getter at the end of her school day “Mommy got me a Lunchable and I ate it. I’m sorry,” DRAMA commenced.) yeah off to grandma and grandpas she went. Thing was, I only had a little over an hour window now to pull this all off. Operation Wonder Woman II is on. Come Hell or high water, I’m not failing this one. So, I haul ass to the pet store and am about to start running to another store when out from some crazy tower thing in the tank pops a spotted molly that looks miraculously close to the original Wonder Woman. (The fish, not Linda Carter, but I guess you knew that.) The lil fish guy tosses in like 5 of the teeny tiniest lil itty bitty snails that I’ve ever seen. YAY! A distraction, just in case. I fly home with 30 minutes to spare. I give a quick porcelain funeral, then tank clean and treated and all critters in place. I barely made it. But, it was a complete success. We actually still need to name all the bitty snails that are currently being collectively called “cutie pies.” Lilest monkey comes home and checks the tank and is none the wiser. True test comes when we get eldest monkey. She burns a path in the hall carpet racing to their room to see the new snails and yells “MOMMY!! MOMMY!" I freak until I hear "Wonder Woman is awake now!! And how cute are these lil insy snails!?!??!” **HAPPY DANCE** Mission successful.

This was a monkey weekend away so I was on aquatic tribe feeding duty. Saturday night I sat in there for a bit just watching our crazy lil tank family. Of course I am now neurotic about checking and counting heads in there to make sure all are still kicking happily. Now, the lil ones are hard to find and tend to tribe up at times, crawling all over each other. Poor Chauncey had 2 on his shell the other day. But, I swear two of them were getting it on. Their lil heads were all intertwined and there was definitely something going on. Now, I’ve never seen a snail throw down, so for all I know there could have been some brawl going on over territory or one of the other snails or maybe one was just talking some smack. I’m a lover, not a fighter though, so I’m really thinking they were doing the lil snail nasty. Which means I should probably start googling snail birthing . By the way, you are all getting early holiday presents. Start picking your snail names now. Gotta be honest, whatever they were doing, it was kind of cool. I didn’t stand there long with my held tilted wondering what was going on. I turned off the light and pondered playing them a lil Barry White. Get down with your bad selves lil itty bitty snails.

I Am Geek Girl, Hear Me Rawr

2009-09-08T12:50:00.000-07:00

It’s interesting the debates that exist over the differences between what exactly a dork is vs. a geek vs. a nerd. Truth is, I’m all of ‘em rolled into one on any given day. Hmm.. gnork? Out of all of them- geek is the one I’m called the most. So why not ÜberGeekGirlie? Cuz. UberDorkGirlie is actually a nickname I earned in an argument with a friend. Some may say I lost that one. I say it suits me just fine.

Nowadays it’s “cool” to be geek, or actually declare yourself as “geeky” or “a geek”, but I’ll hop on that whole soapbox later. Let’s back this to way back in the day first.

If you’ve been reading my blog, you know this next part, so feel free to skip ahead. My quest for knowledge has always been there. When I was four, the birthday cut off for Kindergarten was December 1st. Mine is December 2nd. (Yes boys and girls, this is back in the stone ages when K4 did not exist.) Feeling I was more than ready, my mom gave the principal a call. She told her to bring me up and they’d test me. I remember getting a picture of a clown holding balloons. Each test I passed, a balloon received a sticker. I walked out of there with a big smile and every balloon filled with a sticker. Then my mom got the call. The “If we make an exception for her, then someone comes in with Dec. 3rd & 4th, where do we draw the line?”call. I won’t lie, I totally cried my lil heart out. Then, I woke up the next morning pissed. I grabbed all my lil Dr. Seuss books and sat down in front of Sesame Street and taught my geeky ass how to read. Screw them. So, next fall, I show up to Mrs H’s class all kinds of proud and twitchin’ to stuck up some knowledge. During story time each day, I raised my hand and asked if I can read the book to the class. Each day, she replied “No, Natali, you can’t. You don’t know how to read.” Each day my retort was “I’m sorry, but yes I do.” Come Friday, Mrs. H was irritated. So much so, that she yelled “FINE!” and threw the book at me. I smiled, picked it up and started to read. Mrs. H turned white, then red. Then left the room. I kept right on reading Mrs. H returned with the principal. “Oh shit!” I thought as I finished the story, just a touch shaky.

So, that Monday I was pulled out of my class and taken to a big, mostly empty room. There was a big conference table with four adults lined up behind it staring at me as I sat before them in my lil chair. I’d done a quick tally in my head of what I’d done at school the last week, including the couple of boys I sent to the nurses office and was thinking I was really in for it now. Instead, they began firing question after question after question at me. I remember only one of them:

Some Lady: “How many lives does a cat have?”
Me: “They say that cats have 9 lives, but I think that’s a myth. I have a feeling that they are like any other lifeform, if you kill it, it dies only once.”

Yup, total geek. That’s when they slapped me with the label “gifted and talented.” I was then only in my “regular” class room for a limited time daily. The rest was spent with Miss F and eventually more students were added. Miss F ROCKED! As much as I hated the label they gave me, the program was amazing. It’s where my love of Apple was born and my inner geek was nurtured. For example, for those of you that may not know, the Apple II “OS“ was only a built-in BASIC interpreter contained in ROM. So, any game or program you slipped the floppy in for booted directly on the hardware and either had no OS or one that was self-contained. I will so spare you the Commodore BASIC vs Applesoft BASIC and how Beginner’s All-purpose Symbolic Instruction Code was conceived and how it’s grown and changed to Visual Basic used today. The point of this lil BASIC tangent- in fifth grade, I taught an adult Apple BASIC class at night. My geek runs deep. By middle school I hacked the library computers and would access a BBS from there. And yup, I played the Island of Kesmai. (But by the time Legends of Kesmai hit AOL, I had already despised AOL ;-) )

My academic life was spent in accelerated classes, my electives in Japanese , other foreign languages and art. My freetime went to reading (seriously, I had reading contests with one of my friends to see who could read the most books in a week), drawing and playing Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy on my beat up ole used Apple. My posse were the band geeks and the skaterboys. Despite being like the only betty in town, the most commonly used words to describe me growing up were “smart” and “weird.” They were titles I wore proudly though. I learned early on in life what it felt like to not be truly understood. Sure, some people got some parts of me and others, different parts. No one truly ever gets the whole picture though. Well, perhaps my daughters do. There’s a strip mall here in town that has a comic/anime store called Lost World of Wonders and a place called American Science and Surplus (seriously check out the site). If they added a B&N, a Micheal’s, Izumi’s for sushi and a Gamestop, I’d plant a double-wide in the parking lot and call it home like forever. (Note the B&N would undoubtedly have Starbucks in it to sate my love affair with coffee.) That strip mall is me in a nutshell. Someday I’ll find that counterpart that gets the whole quirky, dorky, geeky package that is me and want a piece of that double-wide. :)

Another thing I learned early on was that while being a bookworm was nongender discriminatory, the science and computer sides of geekdom were definitely male dominated in my time. When I was roped into being a last minute stand in on the science team for state, one of my teammates (who were all male) literally announced to a rival team during pre-round smack talk “oh yeah, well we brought boobs. And they’re actually attached to a girl who is gonna kick your ass in genetics.” In college, yeah, totally the only girl gamer I knew. The shortest lines in arena ladies room history could be found during my first Web Developer conferences. Hell, one of my geek-related nicknames is male! Will. Short for Good Will Hunting. But, thankfully, times they have changed.

Now, back to the whole “cool to say you are a geek” tangent. Through the years, the coin has flipped a bit on the rep of Geeks. Thank you interwebz. When it became clear the geeks shall inherit the earth, peeps started taking notice. Now, they are cool, but to an extent. I mean, let’s face it American Pie upped the street cred for our beloved band geeks, but you didn’t see the “popular” crowd rushing to join the band. And we all know about men’s fantasies about a “naughty librarian”, but outside the bedroom, different story. I’ve been approached by guys swearing they “love geeky girls” only to be told after a conversation I am “too geeky.” What is that?? Of course, my geeky ass then asks them to define the quantitative parameters that constitute “too geeky.” That never really goes over well. I’ve got many a guy friend that has experienced the same, or the flipside. Yup, the geek poser. That just makes me giggle. Geek poser. But, they so exist. My friend, C, found a girl who boldly called herself a geek. He asked her why and she declared herself a “web goddess.” Turns out that means she used Front Page to create a Paris Hilton fan page for herself and a Twilight one for her BFF. I asked him if that meant her friend was “totally goth” then. Turns out (cuz he’s so the male version of me) he asked her the same thing. She didn’t get it. * sigh * They are out there.

Not geeky enough. Too geeky. Poser. Legit. All are in the brain of the beholder. All I know is that because of people like GeekGirls we breast totin geeks are coming on strong. We are standing tall, head held high, glasses straight (ok, cept mine) invading your geek havens in all kinds of ways. If you’re one of us, shout it out. Let your geek flag fly. You’ve freakin’ earned it. It makes you, you. Throw your Star Trek fingers in the air and wave them like you just don’t care. Geek Girls FTW!!!

And I am creating a place for all of us to hang, to play, to proudly wave our lil geek/nerd/dork/gnork flags.

Click here to learn how you can help this dream become a reality for all of us and for future lil geek girls everywhere.

P.S. All my geek girl tweeps, please join me in support of @GeekGirls and add a twibbon here letting others know you’re girl, you’re geek and you’re proud!

Lil Geek Girls FTW!

2009-08-19T06:30:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, I have been a Star Wars fan. I'd get pissed because I'd tear open my gifts and instead of an At-At or the Millennium Falcon, I'd get a freakin' Monchichi or Strawberry Shortcake's latest sidekick. Some solace was taken in the fact that I was the only girl that ever got to play Leia at recess. Part of that was probably the fact that I was the only one that could do the buns, but I didn't care. I remember tearing ass down the isle to front row center when we went to see Return of the Jedi. While I may have lost my Star Wars sheet set along the way, I still have some of my trading cards left and my trust, rusty Return of the Jedi lunchbox still faithfully holds some of my art supplies. And, of course, I own the DVD box sets.

One cold, rainy Saturday morning (i.e. perfect couch and movie day) a couple of months after she turned 3, my eldest monkey figured out how to open the secret door of the entertainment stand and handed me "Phantom Menace." "Mommy, this is my movie choice. I wanna watch this one." The pride, oh the pride. I patted her head, told her it would be too scary and too hard for her to understand and insisted she pick a new one. Bless her gorgeously geeky heart, she stood firm on her choice. Her arguments in the end were simple. "If I don't understand something, I'll ask you mommy and if it gets too scary, we can turn it off." Hells bells, you can't really argue with logic like that.

Ten minutes later, another fan was born. Two more actually. Lilest monkey sat in wide-eyed wonderment cheering and booing right along with her. But, edlest took it to a whole new level. The rest of that weekend was spent watching all six in order up to her new beloved Anakin was "saved." It floored me how little I needed to explain to her. There are so many favorite moments from that weekend. I think my favorite was when Luke made it out with Vader and she looked at me and said "Wow, he actually managed to pull it off." Not remembering at this point I was talking to my 3 year old and being mother of the year- my response? "Right? He's such a wuss." Sorry folks, I was a Han Solo girl all the way.

Most of my friends weren't entirely surprised at my lil "how I spent my weekend." I swear everyone we encountered over the next few months heard her tales of the battle of dark and light, the path of a Jedi, the power of the force, the wisdom of Obi Wan and Yoda, her undying love for Anakin and the importance of having really good friends be they human, wookie, droid or otherwise. Then one of my friends sent me a now rather famous YouTube clip of a 3 year old explaining Star Wars. I watched it and giggled. It didn't really occur to me the vast differences between that 3 year old and mine. VAST.

Thinking she'd be happy to find a kindred spirit, I showed her this.

I expected a giggle. I did NOT expect her to lose her lil mind. She seriously damn near cussed that lil girl out! It went a lil like this:

(Bear in mind, I did warn her it was only about New Hope aka "When they save Leia"- Ooops! I forgot to mention she renamed them all. I'll footnote the rest.)

"What? The 'sand people' are Jawas and they aren't that important."
"'Shiny one?' 'Shiny one?' It's C3PO. Duh."
(At this point I am blankly staring at my irate lil monkey. Head all cocked to the side-like.)
*HUGE GASP* "NO ONE MISPRONOUNCES OBI WAN KANOBI'S NAME! NO ONE MOMMY!!!"
In the backgound the lilest monkey then yells "That's RIDICULOUS!!" (WHAA??)
"Huh? That 'light up sword' is a light saber! Light SABER!"
"Leia wasn't in jail, she was being held capitve by Imperial Forces."
"That's it?! That's it?! What about the subplot?! (WTF!?!? Did she really just say subplot??!?) No Han? No Chewy? MMMMOOOOOOMM!!!"
"Yeah, Darth will getchya because you, you are NO JEDI!!" (Yes, she was totally pointing here lil finger at her too.)
"Mommy, please don't EVER show me that girl again."
And in the background her lil cohort was yelling "Yeah, she's ridiculous!"

That's when it became clear to me that she wasn't your average 3 1/2 year old. It also became clear I was raising a lil ÜberGeekGirlie in training. That, in my book, is just awesomesauce.

Yup, she's still planning on marrying Anakin, is practicing her use of the force and is desperately trying to plead her case to her sister for decorating their new bathroom all Star Wars. My money is on her. Lil geek girls FTW!

***As promised, she renamed them all right away to remember them better. Never mind the fact she could tell you who Qui Gon Jinn was. So, in order:

"When Anakin was lilttle"
"When Anakin became a Jedi"
"When Anakin caught on fire"
"When they save Leia"
"When Luke becomes a Jedi"
"When Luke saves Anakin"

And now these girls are helping their mommy to create a place for them, for all of us to hang, to play, to proudly wave our lil geek flags.

Click here to learn how you can help this dream become a reality for all of us and for future lil geek girls everywhere.

Lilest proudly displaying our Star Wars Cookie Cutters

Forget Dorothy, Give Me OZ.

2009-08-16T07:31:00.000-07:00

The choice to move back to a town I swore I never would was a very hard pill to swallow. Actually, it was more like the seemingly gallons of penicillin I guzzled as a kid growing up during my 3-4 times a year battles with strep throat and whatever other ailment that came along for the ride. I don’t care what anyone says, that shit does NOT taste like strawberry. It’s just vile. Yet, it was the easiest choice I made because it was done so through the eyes of a mother. I rarely refer to myself as that. Typically, it’s mommy. But, this was a very motherly thing to do.

So why so vile? There are many reasons I suppose. But, none are the seemingly obvious ones. I’m not one of those people that thinks they are “too cool” for the suburbs. I’m about the furthest one can get from cool. I’m not one of those people that fear it will change me. I change me. On my own terms. For my own reasons. They failed before, it would be futile for them to even try now. Put me anywhere and I can hold my own.

I guess, in the simplest terms, it may be that I just know too much. Towns, like people, have skeletons in their closets as well. They vary, just like ours, in size and stature. When you spend your whole life in a town and do so with open eyes you see them. Sometimes you crack open the door and peek. Sometimes they are blatantly waving from an attic window. Sometimes you kick down the door and bravely stare them in the eye sockets. No matter the way, once you’ve met them, they’re damn near impossible to forget.

Yes, people change. Yes, towns change. But when generation after generation remain or return- how much change is really made? To change would mean that they'd have to have opened their minds to new ideologies, new people. Embrace that change and then bring it back and cultivate it. That just doesn't happen around here. At all. I so wish it did too. And the more gruesome the skeletons, the smaller the benefit of the doubt one can muster. And we’re talking pretty gnarly here. The following is where I dig deep and lay it on the line. It’s not pretty and the pacing is pretty odd for me. I have no problem babbling on about things. Trust me. So, yup, it is odd that I rush through them. If you venture on, at the end, I think you may understand why. If not, you are always welcome to ask. Ok kiddies, disclaimer/excuse/stalling over.

It all starts with my parents and how they met….

The biggest suburban fairytale of yore was high school sweethearts getting married, building the ole white picket fence and popping out 2.5 offspring. My parents fall under the next biggest one- my mother ended up marrying her best friend’s older brother. Out of high school my mom and my aunt Diane (my dad’s sister) got a place with another girl. After going through the loss of several of her friends from deaths due to drunk driving accidents (most the other driver’s fault), my mom had no desire to get her license. So, aunt Diane would drop her off and pick her up everyday for work.

On the evening of Thursday, November 3rd, 1966, my aunt was uncharacteristically late to pick her up. Worried, she called my aunt’s other brother (my uncle). He picked her up and they went by my aunt’s job to see if she was still there. No one’s lives would ever be the same again in our family. They still aren’t. There is simply no bracing one for what they saw. The coroner estimated her time of death around 5:10pm. Cause? She was stabbed to death. While the local news toned it down for the public, she suffered over 100 (no, the second 0 is not a typo) stab wounds. Most of which were to the chest, neck and face. Psych 101 will tell you that leaves a high probability that she knew her murderer. Despite the fact that there was a rather large amount of blood, tissue and hair samples found under her fingernails (she put up a fight) and that’s a hell of a lot of DNA for today’s technology- her killer remains unknown. The case is still open. There is no way to describe the weight, the hole, the heavy hurt that this has had on our entire family. I can tell you that growing up in the same town where the mere mention of your last name brings up a story about it, another reminder, another lump in your throat, another case of the hair on the back of your neck standing up takes its toll. The police, despite it still being an open case, have obviously just given up. Leaving a family, still mourning, abandoned. I could write an entire post just about this story, the journey and my encounters with those over the years that came across my name in a phone book or somewhere online and came crawling out of the woodwork with questions and theories and occasional drunken babblings, but that will be for another time. This, my friends, is gnarly skeleton number one.

Number two sits without a date. I recall being young and think perhaps around 1st grade or so. The first “official African American” family moved in to our town. They lived in the subdivision in front of ours. The kids were my sister’s age, so I didn’t know them. But, I remember the entire family being so nice. I also remember the morning I found out that the night before someone had placed a cross on their front lawn and lit it ablaze. Seriously.We’re talking the 80’s here. I had on a yellow Strawberry Shortcake nightgown. At the time I wasn’t sure why it happened. It didn’t make any sense to me. While it still doesn’t, I clearly know now what the significance was and it makes my stomach turn. Roughly a decade later “we” received our first African American faculty member. Mr. Mr. (my nickname for him hee hee and he called me Nata ata li) was a guidance counselor and he freakin’ rocked. He lasted a year and a half before the death threats and people calling the police claiming he was breaking in to his own home chased him out of town. I have NO tolerance for that. I have even less for the cowardly masses that allowed him to leave instead of standing up and screaming “bullshit!”. Gnarly ass skeleton.

Skeleton number 3 still brings a tear to my eye. Throughout elementary school we had a Teaching Assistant that was amazing. Those of us in gifted & talented knew her best, with me knowing her the most. She was in charge of the art supply room, so I used to volunteer to help her out whenever needed. I really loved Miss L. Flash to 4th grade, It was late fall, early winter. I remember it being the time of year it got dark early. It was a Saturday evening and my mom sent me downstairs to get something out of the basement freezer she needed for dinner. My sister just got home from some Forensics thing up at the high school. I was walking up the stairs, in fact I was 3 stairs from the top when I heard the conversation. Miss L hung herself. I would learn on Monday that it was my home room teacher that had found her. It was in the basement, the athletic supply room, with a jump rope. Christ that sounds like a bad game of Clue. Rumor is she left a note. My teacher then has since passed on. So, any remaining hopes of answering the haunting question of “why?” seems small. It just doesn’t seem right. It never did. She would have known there was a possibility of a student finding her and I truly believe she would never, ever do that to any of us. No matter what the reason was she felt her only way out was suicide, she loved her students and was proud of what she did. Am I saying there is some deep, dark murderous plot here? No. Am I saying it’s less than Kosher? Perhaps. All I know is it just doesn’t make sense. Something is blaringly wrong with it.

So, by age 11 I had confirmation this town was full of ugliness and shit. It likes to appear all wonderful and happy. Such a lovely place to raise your family. In reality, it was a Stepford town where football was almost a religion (though we sucked) and nonlocals and those even remotely “different” were completely unwelcome. If they couldn’t chase them out, they would harass them until they masterfully donned the mask of the fake smile. It’s one thing if you are dealing with a town full of arrogant, unkind people. This was an entirely different ballgame (football of course). They were all of that, just plain wrong and (I know this seems like an exaggeration) somewhat topped with a bow of evil.

I learned how to fake the mask when needed. Oh the absurdity of faking a fake smile. It wasn’t easy and there was a price to be paid at times. I managed to dance around it all and even grew to stand firm and speak up when I felt things were wrong. Fuck, growing up is hard enough as it is without having to learn how to float like a butterfly and sting like a bee for what feels like is just to save your soul. In the end, I escaped this town, soul intact, non Stepfordized. Truthfully, I never even went back to pick up the hard copy of my diploma. I hit the ground running and swore I’d never be back.

Yes, I do have happy memories of growing up here. I really do. Sometimes they fight to cloak the skeletons.

And here I am. And here I stay. And heaven help this town.

Take My Husband Please. Seriously.

2009-08-12T06:17:00.000-07:00

I’ve gotten to a point in my life where it truly does take quite a bit to phase me. Most events turn into a tiny dip, lil hill or occasional loop de loop on the roller coaster that is my life. This latest one is gnawing at me a bit though.

It’s at times like these that I wished events in my life were made up. Partially because then they wouldn’t be real. Partially because it is just so bizarre that it would make me pretty damn talented. This is one that combines them both.

I’m having many mixed emotions about moving back to the town I grew up in. It’s only been a week so they are all still very fresh. This is a town I swore I’d never live in. A town I loathed for many reasons. Funny how life works out.

So, this past Friday night I’m getting ready to go out and I notice an e-mail notification pop up for a new message in my Facebook inbox. It’s from a girl I’ve known for years. Decades even. Like basically since the 1st grade. Despite being really close (like BFF forget passing notes, we had a notebook we'd pass) a couple years after graduation we lost touch off and on. We’ve kept in spotty contact for the last five or six years. Even this last year on Facebook, our contact remains pretty here and there. It’s been a couple of months since we’ve really had some solid interaction with each other. When I saw the “OMG too funny” subject, I fully expected the message to be a “Ha ha I heard you moved back!” kind of thing. Oh how I wish it was. Instead I got:

“Hey Nat. . .
*** and I are getting divorced, and we are both on evenfreaksneedlove.com. I just logged onto his account. .i like to help him find dates, and I just saw he winked at you!!! OMG too funny. He is (Insert user name here), his pic is bad, he is cuter in person. And the greatest guy!!! btw i am dating girls now, so that kindof was a problem for our marriage. lol Anyway, thought it was super funny, and if you are lookin for a great guy. . he winked.

BFFKindOfFriendYou’veKnownSinceFirstGrade

WHAT THE FUCK!!?!??!??!! Seriously. What. The. Fuck.

I think I read it like three times before it truly started to sink in. Holy range of emotions batgirl!

Ok…

1) Usually one would get more of an ease into things. Maybe not so much on the divorce part. I think even I’m guilty of dropping that one like a “Yeah, Prick is an abusive fuck and I’m done” kind of bomb. But, the lesbian part is usually not quite sammiched between “BTW” and “LOL.” Truth be told, not an entire shock she’s batting for the home team. Also, she knows me well enough to know I’m the gal that’s going to be supportive and all about whatever makes her happy. Still, lil bit of an ease in to all this is all a sister is askin’ for.

2) Not yet divorced and helping him find dates. That’s…ummm…sweet? Perhaps it is the therapist in me, but they’ve been together far longer than my ex & I were and have kids as well. Now, I don’t really know him, so I could be way off on this, but after years and kids and being told you ain’t sportin’ the right equipment, there’s gotta be some healing time involved there. Even if he wants to jump back on a mare- she’s a new lesbian. Do you really want a rookie pickin’ dates for you?

C) WHY WOULD I WANT YOUR HUSBAND?? There may be a sub clause I’m missing in the chick rule book about suddenly jumping off the heterosexual ship but OMG NO! Beyond creepy!! Beyond wrong!! Like I’m calling a technical foul here! And what the hell must you think of me if you feel I’d be all up on that????

Perhaps I should simply be flattered by this whole situation. Lord knows I am no angel and certainly no prude. But leapin’ jeebus on a pogo stick, even I have a threshold of yuckyness. This done sprinted its happy ass right on past it.

And how does one respond to that message?? My first response of “Are you out of your fucking mind???” was put on the back burner while I let this all sink in and fester a bit. Instead I opted for a much more politely worded version of “WOW. Sorry to hear about your divorce. Congrats on embracing your inner lesbian. The offer to date your husband is very flattering but I’m gonna have to pass because umm.. I’m kinda seeing someone. Yeah. That’s it. Best of luck to ya both. I’m here if you need me, but forgive me for not winking back. What a small, crazy, fucked up lil world we live in.”

Still haven’t heard back from her. Future reunions shall be interesting.

Neo Maxi Zoom Dweebie Meets Basket Case

2009-08-09T08:17:00.000-07:00

Who loses their journal during a move but has every cable and cord wrapped, organized and labeled? That would be me. My journal is where most of my posts stem from. I have many that I want to put up now that we're all moved in to our lovely new digs. But, goofy me can't find it. So, you're getting one pulled fresh from my sleepy brain. (Well, it was fresh Thursday night when it was written.) Courtesy of an Office Max legal pad from 2005 (as dated by the state hearing screen card from my lilest monkey's birth shoved in the back of it) and the pack of papermate pens I happened upon while searching for something to write on.

Despite the bliss of a bit of closure to a month of much hell in my life, today I am deeply saddened by the loss of John Hughes. No, I did not know him personally. But, the mark his work left on my life and who I am can not be denied. I don't idolize celebrities and I damn sure am not going to be the crazy chick tweeting about wanting to join him in the afterlife. I am, however, going to give him a lil blog love. I wouldn't be me without a lil babbling side note in a post and would hate to let anyone reading this who knows me down. It will be short, it will be sweet and it may piss some off but here it is:

I firmly believe that we should mourn the loss of John Hughes on the same level as that of Michael Jackson. In reality, part of me wants to say more than, but who am I to pu tone person's life above another's? Yes, as an entertainer MJ was an inspiration for some. His musical catalog, however, was not exactly life changing. While Thriller was fun, grounbreaking and will remain a classic, Hughes gave strength to the underdog, love for the geeks, helped a world understand what it was like to be a teenager and The Breakfast Club should be mandatory viewing for all as it contains one of the single most important lessons we should all learn in life. Will they fill a stadium for Mr. Hughes, hell even a theater, and televise it? Probably not. That, my friends, is a damn shame and breaks my heart.

While I was not even close to a high schooler when the bulk of his greatest hits came out, my sister was. The soundtracks to his movies became the soundtrack to my life. Bits and pieces of each of his movies have been found in my memories, gift wrapped lovingly and stowed away to hand down. From my Duckie who used to ride his 10 speed past the ad agency I worked at in high school every day to me sitting on the floor with my old sewing machine whipping up my prom dress (no, it was not pink, but close). Hell, I even dated a guy named Blaine. While my underwear was (to the best of my knowledge) never up for viewing, the science team appearantly had a bet going where $10.00 went to the first one of them I actually touched while we were at the State Science Finals. I had agreed to fill in for one of the team after they came down with chicken pox or some such thing. I was the Genetics ringer. Also, the only girl. That day is a whole nother blog though. I think you get what I'm laying down here.

John Hughes Rocked. In a BIG fucking way. For the memories, the lessons, the Duckman, the misfits, the no more yanky my wanky the Donger need food, the rise of the science geeks, the stand of Cameron, the hopes we'd all have an Uncle Buck someday, the understanding of a generation, the love. Thank you just doesn't seem to be enough sir.

I leave you with my favorite moment of his...

Dear Mr. Vernon,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...and an athlete...and a basket case...a princess...and a criminal...Does that answer your question?...

Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.

One Day Elphaba Was Born (Pt.3)

2009-07-23T06:46:00.000-07:00

Harold: So. you don't use the umbrella any more? No more revolts?

Maude: Oh yes. Every day...but... I don't need a defense any more, I embrace. Still fighting for the big issues but now in my small, individual way.

After my year term as president for SFAR, I stepped down. No more standing at the edge of a corn field on dark, damp nights with a half ass tv crew facing the owner of a dog farm, his friends and the damned Sheriff all glaring at us while toting shot guns. I will have to find the photo of his giant “stay off my land or alce” sign. Yup, alce.

I had to. Not long into my sophomore year of college, my year from hell began. From that point on, my umbrella was put to rest. The next few years were simply survival mode and healing. But, slowly, surely, my inner Maude returned. I too embraced embracing. Years, experience and some wisdom gained through those had shaped a different spirit of protest for me. No longer standing with a picket sign did not mean I turned a blind eye either. I never stopped voting, writing letters and signing petitions- using the voice, albeit more tempered and quiet, that I had. I strived to lead by example. Hoping it would be infectious. I also learned to choose my battles wisely.

It wasn’t until I left graphic & web design and went back into health care that my voice would once again return with some chutzpah. I have a fiery instinct to protect my residents. My first round back was at a company with all new construction and hoity toity lil old people for residents. So, my biggest battles typically were with hospitals that wanted to discharge them to nursing homes and doctors that didn’t follow through. There is, however, one priest that is not likely to forget me anytime soon.

One of the hardest things to do is to get a priest to come to a group home. Seriously. I’ve had Catholic residents whose entire parish was off on sabbatical and they were dying and no priest from another parish would come to visit them to administer the last rights (now called “anointing of the sick”.) I had a 92 year old lady move in from Racine ( a good 1/2 hour away from where the home was). She was Catholic, came from a nursing home and her priest had developed Alzheimer’s. She still wanted communion every month, so it was my mission to make that happen. Well, I struck out everywhere and finally just called the priest that came by already for another resident. What’s one more for communion? He was a crab on the phone, but agreed to see her and “see what he could do.” In he glides on his monthly visit and all the staff are warned not to let him leave without seeing the other lady. Sure enough, he tries to fly out of there and encounters me at the door. Smiling. I gently remind him of his promise. This jack ass then walks up to my lil 92 year old in the dining room and YELLS in her ear “ I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M SUPPOSED TO TALK TO YOU. YOU ARE NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY. CALL YOUR OWN PARISH.” Oh the seething. I turned and walked outside to the parking lot while he said goodbye. As soon as he walked out that door (all the staff’s faces now popped up pressed against the windows) I let him have it. Both guns blazing. “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? You can NOT talk to my residents like that!” He didn’t even looked shocked. Just smug and pious. “She is not my responsibility. She is not part of my parish.” “Really? Well it’s a good thing Jesus didn’t operate on that theory now isn’t it? That is THE most unchristian thing I have ever heard.” His retort? “I don’t expect you to understand. You are just a commoner and most likely not even Catholic.” *deep breath* “I’m a recovering Catholic and they have the likes of people like you to thank for that. As far as the ‘commoner’ thing goes? Well, you weren’t born with some special mark on you that deemed you the chosen one, you pompous ass. ANYONE can take the vows you have. Clearly they were nothing more than some regurgitated words for you and hold no meaning. Even a “commoner” grasps the concept of the Golden Rule. If Jesus not only did not turn away lepers but embraced them, what gives YOU the right to turn anyone away? Let alone some sweet little 92 year old lady that has been a devout Catholic her entire life. So, go ahead and prance your self-righteous self back to your Mercedes and drive off out of here. But trust me- when it comes time for the God to whom you have supposedly vowed your life to judge you, He will knock that smile off your face.”

I called my mom when I got back in “Mom, it’s official. I am truly gong to hell. I just cussed a priest out in our parking lot.” My mom, bless her lil heart, “Well, that took longer to happen than we all thought and I’m sure he had it coming..”

Then I began running the “community based residential facility for those with chronic mental illness.” My first couple of weeks there I heard the phrase “ Oh ___ , you guys will take ANYONE.” At first I was offended. A long time case manager friend of mine came in surprised as hell to see me there one day. Just like the rest, she uttered “What the hell are you doing here? This place is a total hole and will take ANYONE.” And it hit me. Harder than Bobbie slapped Whitney around. “You’re damn right we will, J. You know why? EVERYONE deserves a home. Period. Yeah, it’s a bit of a hole right now, but I’m working on that. Someday we’ll be the Pfister for "crazy" people.” My crusade on behalf of those with severe chronic mental illness in Milwaukee then began.

The biggest thorn in my side? The VA. They HATE me there. I have gotten in more knock down, drag outs with them than I can honestly count. The reason? I have never seen a more gross negligence for the care for one’s patients EVER. And these are VETERANS. The very people that have laid their lives, and sanity, on the line for us. I have marched my happy ass down there and stood outside doctor’s doors waiting for them to sign off on a script renewal because it’s Friday and they have ignored my gentle fax reminders for two weeks letting them know their pharmacy will not dispense another supply of oh Depakote until the order is renewed. If it’s not signed that day, they don’t have Depakote for the weekend and the last thing that a person with schizoaffective disorder needs to do is go cold turkey off of that. They also insist on messing with the dispensing as well and that is a fight I have yet to win. The prescription will read “75mg of Zoloft, one tab, by mouth twice daily” Do they dispense 60 tabs of 75mg Zoloft? No, they dispense 30 tabs of 150mg and tell us to cut it in half. Not only does this not match the order, most of these medications they have us do this with are not to be cut PER MANUFACTURER’S INSTRUCTIONS. They don’t care though, because it’s cheaper that way. And, well, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder doesn’t really exist. They’ll tell you so.

So, I found my voice again, using it boldly with my head held high, but only for small, individual “fights” if you will. No picket lines. No rallies. No mass assemblies. No newspapers. No half ass TV crews. No fields at night.

And then, one night, a tweet passed by my screen. It caused me pause. A desperate plea from what appeared to be an Iranian to hackers for assistance. It was @PersianKiwi and I knew there was a chance it was real. From what it was requesting, I knew what it was looking for and why it would be. (Sometimes the 2 years I dated a hardcore hacker comes in handy). As I clicked and read and clicked and read, the story unfolded. I began to research the Iranian election and the candidates that ran. That is all I could find. Nothing of this scandal that they were tweeting of. I then stumbled upon one Twitterer whose emotion was way too human for him to be bullshit. When my eyes could no longer focus, I went to bed.

My head swimming. My heart aching. My eyes wide open.

The decision was simple. I was picking up my umbrella again. That morning, Elphaba was born. My own little personal declaration of unity and support. Over the course of the next weeks I stayed glued and focused on what was going on. I am not ashamed to admit that I have sobbed, screamed and wished that I could do more to help these people that, yes, I don’t even know.

There have been many arguments thrown out there and at me:

“These are Iranians. They hate us, They are our enemies.”

“The change of power will do nothing to protect us from their nuclear program.”

“They made their own bed, let them lie in it.”

“How do we know it’s even real and not some propaganda to engage us in war.”

My retort is simple. Firstly, I respect the opinions of others. It would be hypocritical of me to not and I do understand where their points may come from. Mine is this:

Ghandi is the man in my book. We do need to be the change we wish to see in this world. Whether they are in Iran, China or Istanfreakinbul, they are people. Humans. Just like us. People have been a fascination of mine all my life. I have taken several different language not just for the language, but to understand the culture as well. These people standing (for the most part) silently declaring their desire for independence, for their vote to actually count, for their government to recognize they have given them a vote and need to uphold that are not the same “Iranians” that we have been shown via media for years. Propaganda and distortion of the facts by government and media works all ways. Could their nuclear program remain intact regardless of a change in regime? Possibly. But, I highly doubt it. One of their platforms for change is peace. Symbolized by the beautiful green ribbons bound around their peace fingers. Their eyes have been opened to the truth of the world, not what their government has force-fed them for years. They know. They don’t want to become another America, they don’t want to completely abandon their culture, their beliefs. Their requests are simple. Basic. They want to live peacefully with the rest of the world, they want more of a real say in their government, they want to live more humanely. And I wholeheartedly support them in all of that. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are basic human rights no matter what soil ones bare feet intertwine with. No matter what language they speak. No matter what God they pray to, or don’t pray to.

Perhaps I am odd, but, if someone walked up to me, told me they hated me (yes even if they stated they wished me dead), then was being beaten in the street two minutes later because they were simply walking down the street holding the hand of the person they love, I would stand next to them in saying it was wrong. That, dear friends, is just how Elphaba rolls.

And, for now, Elphaba isn’t going anywhere.

Dear "Dedicated Thin"

2009-07-07T05:48:00.000-07:00

Dear “Dedicated Thin”-

Fist off, thank you for stopping by and reading my post. (I use post vs. blog because your comment leads me to believe that the probability is high that you haven’t ready anything else I have written.) The fact that you took the time to not only do so, but leave me feedback as well is appreciated. Seriously.

Secondly, in re: to “what a piece of complete shit”, it is good to know that I’ve done something right in your eyes. You see, I pride myself on not doing things half-assed, so accomplishing a complete shit versus a partial or incomplete shit is a concept I can more than hang with. So, yay for that!

Now for your big question- “Are you really that much of an egotistical, self-centered asshole?” That is a bit more difficult to answer. I say this because your vagueness doesn’t really give me much to go on. The mere fact that I have a blog where I spew forth random babblings about my life and expect people to read it could indicate yes to egotism and self-centeredness. Then again, one could point that same theory at anyone who has a blog. Further, one could point it toward someone who posts such a comment on someone’s blog whom they don’t know. Goodness knows I would not want to indicate those were my feelings towards them. I am constantly amazed that anyone reads my babblings and frequently thank them for doing so. I put it out there not really expecting anyone to read it at all and am grateful when they do. (I could reference my introductory post regarding my blog and its description, but quite frankly that may come across as snotty and I really don’t feel that is necessary at all.)

Is it the whole topic itself that seems to wreak of egotism and self-centeredness to you? I understand that keeping some tadpoles from being flushed and opening my big mouth when I feel that things are wrong isn’t really saving the world. There are thousands and thousands of people out there that have done and will do great, heroic things to truly save this world. Their stories are FAR more worthy of reading than mine and that fact is one I do not lose sight of. They are also people I strive to be more like on a regular basis. Even if it is just in my own quirky, dorky lil way.

To some extent, I can see why one may question me being egotistical and self-centered based solely on that one post with those points in mind and knowing or reading nothing else about or by me whatsoever. I do honestly apologize if that is the only perception received as such.

Having said that, who does such a thing? Honestly?

Mr./Ms./Miss/Dr. DedicatedThin. You set up an account with LiveJournal, filling in only that you are allegedly from the US and that your birthday is supposedly January the 3rd. That’s it. No entries on it. No following of anyone. No friends. You leave your vague, judgmental comment while hiding safely behind your cloak of anonymity. I trust I won’t offend you by stating that has just a tiny lil whiff of self-righteousness to it. Which brings me to the last word of your question/comment…

Asshole? No, no really I am not. An asshole struts about on a regular basis exuding negativity and unprovoked, rude, inappropriate, unwarranted behavior. It is a skin worn daily and an ugly one at that. So, I say, with great confidence, that I am not an asshole. Can I be a bitch? You betchya.

For instance, I’m willing to bet you may find it just a touch bitchy when I say that before you go on anyone’s blog and start leaving comments such as the one you left me, you may wanna put on your big people’s panties, lay your own self out there for others to see and scrutinize and lob a couple of bricks at your own glass cottage.

Say what you want to say, think what you want to think about me. At least I have the balls to look someone in the eyes. That includes myself in the mirror.

Thanks again for stopping by and have a wonderful day!

Sincerely,
Natali

P.S. You may want to avoid reading part three of my Save The World Syndrome Saga sugar because I’m guessing you’re not going to like that one either and I’m not going to refrain from writing it (or anything else for that matter) due to your comment.

P.P.S. It just occurred to me that another possible reason for your disgruntledness could be that you are an angry PETA supporter that has become offended by my comments regarding them. Well, it that's the case... fuck you. Yup, I said it.

PT 2. They're Crazy, Not Pocket Bread

2009-07-02T04:40:00.000-07:00

Displaced paragraph time.

Middle school saw little "activism" action from me. I did end up throwing one bully up against a locker and scaring the ever lovin' shit outta her for picking on M, the special ed student I was most protective of. Other than that, challenging Mrs. L, our accelerated English teacher who was a total condescending, uppity biotch, on a regular basis was it. Nothing much to report.

Then came High School. My lack of desire to eat meat continued. I went around and around with the principal repeatedly until Mr. W caved and added a salad bar as a healthy, non-meat alternative in the cafeteria.

I rescued a tank full of tadpoles doomed to be flushed. Ok, so the teacher was just scared of me at that point and handed them over. That was a feat in and of itself considering the guy walked, talked and acted like a varsity wrestling coach. Not that an accelerated, college level, Biology teacher can't be a wrestling coach or vice versa, but com'mon now it was just weird. (side note: him teaching "reproduction" redefined the term "awkward as hell." ) The tadpole's poor father was sacrificed in the name of science. Teach decided to just spring a lesson of how to artificially inseminate a frog on us. This started with poor Kermy getting plucked from his lil ole tank, pithed in the head and well I won't describe the rest to spare my guys that read me. Needless to say, I went OFF. Forced dissection was expected. Springing a frog slaughter on an innocent gal will get you a verbal woopin' you aren't soon gonna forget.

The other cause that was important to me was the continued segregation by some. Through a program called "220" here in Milwaukee, city kids could get bussed into the burbs for school. I was close with the three of them that started with the program back when we were in elementary school. Despite knowing these kids for what 8-10 years, well let's just say "better schools" still have ignorant fucking students. I've never been one to label people, especially my friends and certainly not with something ridiculous. They weren't my "black friends." They were my friends. Period. Many smaller battles were waged on their behalf. The one that sent me over the edge?

One had a little sis, R, who was a freshman when we were seniors. Her locker was down the band geek/art hall with mine and I loved the hell out of her. (Still do :) ) There was this one girl (I'll call her IB for Ignorant Bitch) that used to be mean as hell to R for no damn good reason. R just took it each time. I was constantly showing up and threatening IB to back off. One day IB got REALLY stupid and jumped my girl. I came around the corner just as she grabbed her from behind, threw her on the ground and started swinging. R didn't fight back. At all. I had dropped my bag and hauled ass down that hall. The band director came around the back corner just as I pulled IB off her. Probably a good thing he did in hindsight. He took both of them down the hall toward the office.

Next period I find out R got a three day suspension. IB got two days detention. I shit you not. Yeah... into the principal's office I STORMED. I suppose I should mention that I'd known Mr. W. since I was in Kindergarten. His son and I were in the same class and I used to tutor his youngest son, who I swear works for like freakin' NASA now. He sat there listening to me rant not only about this absolute bullshit that just occurred but all the other copious amount of uncalled for shit my friends quietly put up with and shouldn't have had to. By this point he knew better than to interrupt one of my rants. My happy ass sat in that office until he called R and apologized. Then I made him promise to suspend IB and permanently relocate her locker. Forever. And he did. I just couldn't be in there for that part.

I then turned around and waged war on the School Board. I insisted they include cultural diversity into the curriculum starting in elementary school. If only I could visually share with you my memory of the looks on their faces when they attempted to use the celebration of Black History Month as a defense. I do feel a tiny bit bad for making the Secretary cry. Just a tiny lil bit though.

It's safe to say MANY were happy as all get out to see my ass graduate and get the heck up out of there at that point. Guess I can't really blame them. I kinda screwed up their whole little ignorance is bliss thing. If that is true, if ignorance really is bliss, well I guess I'm just a wipe the smile off my face then kind of gal.

On to UW-Milwaukee. College is fodder for one with Save The World Syndrome's soul. The list of student orgs you can join is more fun and more difficult to choose than picking your classes. You name it and I wanted to join. The one that seemed most suited to my non meat eatin', salad bar gettin', tadpole savin' self- yup, Students for Animal Rights.

Hold up now! I know the first thing you thought of when you read that was PETA. Don't even. I'll get to them assholes later. Just chillax and hear me out.

I think it was like four meetings in when I got nominated and voted in as the first Freshman President they'd ever had. Before I agreed to take it, I told them I would do it ONLY if the group embraced my philosophy on what the group should be and how we should represent ourselves. I even made them revote after I was done with my little speech. The vote came back with me still President. Six members quit and walked out. In the next three weeks though, we gained 45 new ones. My philosophy?

We act as a RESPONSIBLE voice for the rights and treatment of animals and an educational resource for the students. Our library had squat covering anything to do with animal rights. This meant stocking books and literature that presented ALL sides to the main issues that were at hand and allowing those reading them to come to their own beliefs- whether it was that same as ours or not.

We did NOT call people who ate meat evil, we did offer sound, trusted information on how to healthfully embrace vegetarianism. ALL "shock material" was tossed. I got huge shipments of bumper stickers, samples, buttons, literature- you name it- from The Body Shop, The Humane Welfare Society and other groups and companies that did not test on animals. We were not to protest in any way, shape, or form unless it was agreed upon by the whole group. In fact, a dog farm in Darboy was our only real protest. That and assisting in getting steel jaw traps banned in Wisconsin (yuppers, I actually spoke at the hearing they had at the state capitol) were our two big stances that year. I'll save those stories for another day cuz this bad boy is already way too long. Sorry bout that. I also worked with several other student groups and organized the first ever Earth Day Festival at UWM. That day just kicked ass. Last, but not least, we were NEVER, EVER to portray ourselves as the student division of PETA.

While, at that time, fundamentally I do believe PETA's heart was in the right place, they've had (even then) a history of goin' about it the wrong way. I don't do backasswards well. At least not when it comes to important things. My grandma always taught me you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Sittin' in the Union by the food court with giant posters of scalpless monkeys and gorey lab animals = beyond vinegar. Sittin' in the Union by the food court with vegan brownies, Kiss My Face samples, Body Shop animal friendly buttons and please adopt, spay and neuter your pets posters= honey. And I am all about the sweet folks.

I'm gonna wrap this part up for now (finally!) But, I'll leave you with a lil something to kick back and ponder while I'm writing the third (and last) part of my Save The World Syndrome "affliction" saga...

Nowadays, you mention PETA and people think of a bunch of crazy assholes that want Obama to apologize for a fly. Seriously, a fly. No matter what you picture, then or now, I never understood one thing. Perhaps it's just the dork in me. But, it's the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. "EH-THICAL." Not "EEE-THICAL." So why the hell do they pronounce it like they're freakin' pocket bread???

Go Ahead.. Tell Me I "Can't"...

2009-06-27T04:53:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah... if you read yesterday's new post, you probably came running to this (who am I kidding? I'm surprised I have anyone that reads my babbling) thinkin' this was post #2. Sorry, it's so not. BUT, before you get all cross-eyed, it does kinda fit in the theme and it's a quick one.

What's the best way to get this girl to do something? Tell me I can't. Seriously, I have a huge history of this. I love it when someone tells me it's impossible or I can't and I get to turn around and say "HA!!! YOU WERE WRONG!!!" So...

First tattoo. I thought long and hard about it. I knew, even at 18, the permanency of it. It wasn't some accessory I could just take off. It was a part of my skin, my soul exposed and brandished proudly. (This was before it was ultra "cool" by the way and the term "tramp stamp" wasn't even remotely thought of.) I had it drawn up for months. My choice? A Japanese cartoon frog. Now hear me out.

It is still symbolic for two reasons and I still love it.

1. The cartoonyness reminds me to hold tightly to all that is amazing about being a child. Looking at life in wide-eyed wonderment, that ability to cut through all the bullshit that we learn as we grow up that taints things and see clearly through to the truth, the purity of things. And.. that ability to love undconditionally. Screw all that color, race, creed, political view, sex, sexual preference, all that stupid tagage that gets attached to everyone. I HATE (yup, not a word I really ever use) labels. Period. I am simply Natali. No more. No less.

2. I had a huge love for frogs growing up. LOVED them. Would pluck them out of the creek behind our house and try to sneak them in through the pockets of my overalls all the time. My sensei told me that the reason for this was two part. She still feels I have a very strong understanding and connection to their culture. In their culture frogs represent healing. She sees me as a great healer and therefore, it fitting that I would bond affectionately to frogs so much.

So, in my lil purse I carried this drawing around with me. One day sis and I happen to be near the Black Dragon, where she'd gotten hers a couple years before. They had a really great rep too. In we go, I lay down the drawing and ask them for a quote. He tells me $35. I'm shocked. That's it? Sis was shocked too. I say ok. They say they have an opening right then. I totally freeze.. EEK! I just wanted to know how much! I remember- no cash. :) They point out the ATM down the block. They are a touch goating at this point. The fiesty starts to come out. Down the block I go.

I come back wielding my cash, slap it down with the design and say let's do this. Now, if you've gotten a tat- you know there really isn't any way to describe the feeling of getting one. If you've not gotten one one, you can understand the wondering of "how bad is this really gonna hurt?"

I ask the guy "ok, what kind of pain am I looking at here." Then they start. Yup, they. There were only 2 artists in the shop, both guys. Big, burly tattoo looking guys. I looked like a lil freakin' cartoon character myself. (Seriously, w/ my red hair a ton of peeps at UWM called me "Pebbles") They start going on and on "Oh, you're going to scream and cry." "Oh you'll pass out." "Oh you'll think your leg is going to fall off." Each one translates in my head of them saying "Oh you can't handle this."

Then I hear "Oh and there's going to be so much blood."

I snap.

I look the guy who is gonna be "my first" dead in the eyes and say "I bleed once a month mother fucker, give me the goddamn tattoo!"

My sister gasps. A wicked grin forms over the artist and he says "You, sweet child, fucking ROCK! Get your ass back here, this is going to be fun!"

I took it like a champ. When it was done, he kissed my hand, told me I'd always remember my first and that I would be back. He did my second one dirt cheap after that.

But yeah... go ahead. Tell me I "can't." I dare you!