SUMMERS ARE FOR ROAD TRIPS

16 Jun

(this article originally appeared on ThoughtCatalog.com)

USA-352047

In Los Angeles, the jacaranda trees have started dropping their lavender blossoms, and they’re covering the cement sidewalks in color, like Prince painted the streets with purple rain. Those fallen flowers always indicate to me it’s officially the end of Spring and summertime is here. Now, if you’re a parent this means it’s time for you to figure out what to do with your kids since they won’t be in school. And thank you sweet Baby Jesus, I’m not one of them. If you’re like me and you don’t have children, the arrival of summertime means something totally different. It’s time to get out on the road, because summers are made for road trips.

My mother gave me gypsy blood. She loves to travel but like a penguin she keeps to the ground. You see, she refuses to fly. So to satisfy her wanderlust she’s always criss-crossed the country like a long-haul trucker. Every year, soon as school ended, my sister and I both knew it was time to load up the car and hit the highway. Thanks to our mother we’ve visited nearly all 48 contiguous states of America. And after seeing so much of this country, I strongly recommend you get to know the highways and freeways and see those purple mountains’ majesty and all that promised beauty for yourself. An American road trip is something of a birthright. You have to go see the country, you’re a damn fool if you don’t.

Traveling around Europe, I did what the locals did and took trains. And consequently, I feel like I missed a great portion of, and possibly the best parts of, Europe. You don’t stop and eat from as many bakeries when you go by train. There’s really no comparison to how it is when you’re traveling by road. For me, there’s a fundamental difference between planes, trains and automobiles. Planes are way too fast. They feel weird like time-travel. Trains are too limited. They feel like speedy sightseeing tours. But automobiles, are kinda like Goldilocks’ porridge, they’re just right. You really feel a journey when you travel by car. You can actually smell the world. I like that.

The greeting card industry is really keen on the idea: It’s not about the destination but your journey. And you know what? They’re right. It’s totally true. And the novelist, Robert Louis Stevenson, the guy who wrote Treasure Island, he phrased it in a far more eloquent way, one I always liked, “For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.”

Before this summer ends, go get some of that great affair and move. Tear up some open road. Even if it’s just a long weekend. Grab your significant other, or a few friends, maybe your sister, your brother or your favorite cousin and set out for the horizon and some destination you’ve never seen.

If ever there was a country made for road trips it’s the States. America boasts numerous regions so distinctly different from each other they really ought to be their own countries. But thanks to a violent history, we’ve remained one grand experiment stretching from sea-to-shining-sea across a vast and still rather wild continent. And unlike say, Australia, here in America there are people everywhere, so there’s plenty to do, plenty to see, and plenty of help if things go wrong. Also, unlike Australia, we have very few animals that’ll try to kill you. But I recommend you watch your ass, if you go down to Texas. Anyone who’s been there can tell you, Texas is a lot like Australia… just without any of the class. I’m kidding, Texas. You know I love you!

Speeding across America, the best thing you can do is get happily lost. Take that road less traveled Robert Frost advertised in his poem. Because no matter how far you wander from the freeway, you’re never more than an hour away from a good cup of coffee, and/or a tow truck, which makes traveling a lot friendlier. But that is the one thing about road trips you must remember… shit will go wrong. And really, in a backwards way, it’s part of the charm, the question of how you overcome unforeseen bullshit.

Like, I once ruined a car engine climbing a mountain grade out of Salt Lake City. Something about the gas pump and how I kept the engine in overdrive as I floored it for miles and thousands of feet of our ascent up a rather steep incline. The engine didn’t like that and crapped out. While we waited in Park City, Utah for someone to deliver a matching fuel pump and install it, we spent the afternoon, sliding down zip lines and riding snow-free summery slopes on luge sleds, which was an absolute riot. Would’ve never planned to do it but we were stoked to enjoy some Olympic-style sports while we waited for our broken car to be fixed.

That’s how road trips constantly surprise you. They remind you it’s crucial to stay open to whatever circumstances you find yourself in. Road trips are great practice at what Zen Buddhists, life-coaches and New-Agers like to call “living in the moment.”

The trick to an epic American road trip is pick destinations and places to stop that are absolutely ridiculous. Like, when else are you gonna see the World’s Largest Ball of Twine in Cawker City, Kansas? Or a nearly abandoned amusement park filled with life-size Flintstone houses? Or a real-live rattlesnake round-up? And eat foods you can’t pronounce but you’ll probably never forget?

When you share odd memories with your partners on the road, your experiences cement in your memory because they’re such specific stories. And if you get to be old-and-grey and you’re struggling to remember where you put your teeth and your house keys you’ll still remember the time when you vomited blueberry pancakes outside that Waffle House in Pensacola. Memory is funny that way.

The shit you experience when you’re living outside everything you normally do, while you’re free of it all for a brief spell, because it’s like some weird non-time, your memory gets filled with those rare experiences. We tend to easily recall four aspects of our lives: the most, the best, the worst and the least. Road trips are filled with all sorts of those moments. The most you ever laughed. The worst place you ever slept. The best meal you ever ate at four a.m. somewhere under the stars. And the least you ever paid for a new pair of cowboy boots you absolutely love and can’t believe you lived so long without. We write those moments a little more deeply. And it’s why road trips etch lasting memories.

It doesn’t matter if you’re bumming it this summer, broke as a public pay phone, there’s always a way to enjoy a road trip. Borrow a car, plan with friends, save up for a month and then take whatever money you have, throw it into gas, groceries and sleep in KOA campgrounds, or if you’re totally strapped, sleep in the car…. but get out there on the highways and byways of America, you’ll never regret that choice. Be curious. Wander like you’ve escaped and some authority was dumb enough to give you a driver’s license. It’s one of the greatest perks of being alive and able to drive… the reckless abandon of a Great American Road Trip.

Tags: , , , , ,

“YOU WANNA KNOW HOW I FIND WOMEN?” An Interview With A Sex Addict

16 Jun

addiction

 

For a few weeks now, I’ve been collecting answers from straight men about where to find single women. To borrow the oft-used hunting metaphor to describe the answers men tell me, well, it seems cliché. Let’s just say, there are parallels. All the locations straight men suggest sound like their describing women’s habitats. “You have to go to wherever they congregate…” Listening to them, I started to worry about the future. Based on what straight men were telling me, I could tell most of them had no idea how to find single women in a big city.

Then one day, I spoke with a guy who describes himself as a sex addict. I asked him where to meet cool single women. He told me- he goes online. He said sites like Adultfriendfinder.com. To him, going online is like sticking his pleasure-stick in a digital glory hole. He only needs an hour, his smartphone, a reliable internet connection, and he’ll find sex. He said he wasn’t sure if the woman would be single.

I interviewed the sex addict. And he was as candid as a deathbed confession. To protect his identity, we’ll call him… the letter H.

 

sex-addiction

 

-What sites do you use?                                

H- …Um, Fling.com, AirG.com, Plentyoffish.com, Adultfriendfinder.com

-How do they work?

H- They suck you in by- okay, like you’re on a different site, and then they throw one of those pop-up ads at you. It says you can join for free or whatever. Stupid me, I think cool and I join for free, y’know. And then, next thing you know, people started hitting me up. But in order to see them you had to pay. That’s 39.99. After I paid that, I created a profile with a name and a picture- I don’t use my real name. Once the profile is set, I start looking for women. I start hitting them up. Like I’ll leave a message- Hey, you look cute- or whatever. You wanna chat? Or if I think they look raunchy like party girls then I’ll just straight up hit ‘em up, like- You wanna party? I got party favors, y’know.

-When you say party favors, do most women know what you mean?

H- Some don’t understand the term “party favors.“ They think I’ll pay ‘em. And some know I mean drugs… and alcohol or whatever.

-Are women more straightforward than you would’ve imagined?

H- Well, nothing surprises me really, because women are just as scandalous as men. They’re just more discreet, that’s all.

-How often do you hook-up the same day you first contact someone?

H- Sometimes, it’ll be that day. Or maybe a week later. Or like, during that week. But mostly right away. They’ll give me their phone number. And we’ll talk for a couple minutes and we’ll take it from there.

-What do they ask you during these phone calls?

H- So where do you live? Send me a picture of your shit. You know, stuff like that.

-And so, you send her a picture of your shit?

H- Yeah, I’ll send her one.

-Do you keep pictures of your shit ready to send, or do you like to take a fresh dick-pic?

H- No, I delete them. Because sometimes when you get pulled over by the cops, they’ll look through your phone.

-So you send a new dick-pic every time? What are the secrets to a good dick pic?

H- Close-up. Get a good angle. From sideways. Make sure it’s hard, y’know. (laughs) Shit like that.

-Can you walk me through how it works, how you meet a woman for sex?

H- Like there was the one time with that chick in Passages. She was in a rehab. And I guess, I made her relapse.

-But you didn’t know she was in rehab?

H- Here, I have it. (pulls out his cellphone) I’ll tell you exactly. It keeps everything.

-The site keeps a record of all your contact?

H- This is her, right here. That’s her profile page. Oh yeah, she used like some kind of code. (selects the stream of messages). So the first thing I sent was- You wanna party? I got party favors. She says- I like party favors. I said- Okay then. Give me a call so we can talk about it. Yes? She said- I would like to go on a ski vacation. And so I said- Get high with me and you can be wherever you want. She said- I really prefer the snow. I guess that was her code word for coke. Y’know, for blow. I said- Powder snow. I can get you that. So then we didn’t talk until the next day. She said- Hi, Raoul. I’d like to invite you for lunch. And my roommate would like to meet a really good-looking friend. She’s gorgeous. You can also choose dinner if you like, my treat. So she invited me to that place Geoff’s in Malibu, or whatever.

-Geoffrey’s On the Bay? Nice place.

H- Yeah. So I said- Sounds nice. How do I get info about where and when? I gave her my number. We just kept talking back and forth. She gave me her email. And then she called me one night and wanted me to get some blow and come get them. I couldn’t get it at that time, she said- Okay, nevermind. But then she called me a day later.

-This place, Passages, it’s that clinic in Malibu where celebrities go for rehab, right?

H- Yeah. So the next day she calls me and says- How about that lunch? You wanna come on down? I wanna invite you to lunch. And I said- Okay, cool. And she said- Bring me a bottle of vodka. I said- All right. So I ended up going to Geoffrey’s. I meet her at the restaurant. She’s like- “Hey, what’s up? Nice to meet you, finally.” We’re talking. She has some wine. The next thing you know there’s somebody there. He comes over to talk to her, and he’s saying- “You know we’re gonna have to terminate you. We have to terminate you. You’re here drinking.” There’s two of them and they say- “We’re gonna have to bring you your stuff.” They have this whole big conversation. Next thing you know, I find out that I was her ride for her escape plan. She wanted to leave the program because she wanted to go get high and fuck. So she pays for lunch. We go out. We run some errands. I help her run her errands. Then I get a room. Next thing you know, I’m fucking her.

-From the point when the folks from Passages came to collect her, until the point you started fucking- How long was that?

H- It was two hours from meeting her. We started talking and she said- “Oewh! I like your attitude! Oh man, I like the way you think. You’re a real good guy.” And she was like- “Do you have a condom?” I was like- “Yeah, because, we’re gonna fuck.” I guess she was buzzing. We went to the hotel and we started fucking. And she was a good fuck, too.  She was really good. A whole bunch of stuff happened to her when I left. But that’s not my fault. She’s actually texting me again now. And she still wants to get blow. And I don’t know, maybe I’ll get it for her, maybe not. I’m trying to stay clean now.

-Do you consider yourself a romantic?

H- …In some areas. Yes. I like to please women. I do. I’m very sexually active. I like to please woman, y’know. But when I start doing drugs and shit, I get on one. And then I wanna get on these websites. That’s like my thing.

-Would you consider yourself a sex addict?

H- At some times… yes. I’ll say, usually. Well, only when there are drugs involved. Yeah, I’m a sex addict.

-What are your drugs of choice?

H- Methamphetamine. Very bad.

-So if you do some crystal, then you’re gonna definitely be looking to fuck?

H- Yeah, I’m fucking. But also… I mean, it just kills time, you know. Like I get addicted to it and I go through these cycles.

-Do you cycle quickly? Is it a matter of weeks, months-

H- If I stay clean, it all depends. When I stay clean, I don’t pay attention to it, too much. But if I’m using, I’m going through a long cycle. Like right now, it’s been a month since the last time I’ve done this. So right now, I’m pretty much done.

-You’re done doing-

H- …The websites. For now. Because I met someone I really like… She’s from the program. She’s in N.A. And y’know, I wanna see where that goes. She’s really, really pretty so…

-And you’re honest with her about your past?

H- Yeah, I’m honest. I’m honest to a certain degree. Like she doesn’t know about this. And I don’t think I need to tell her if I cut it all out, y’know. Because she was doing her thing, I was doing my thing… And now, that’s all in the past.

-Do you get tested regularly?

H- Oh, I do that like every three months. And I use protection.

-Do women care if use condoms? Do they care if you’ve been tested recently?

H- Majority of them use condoms. Some of them ask. “Do you wanna use a condom?” And I figure if they ask, then I think I should put one on. Y’know what I mean? Because, nobody gives you a choice… And if they do, something is wrong. You should always use protection at all times. Maybe… not for blowjobs. But I do get tested for HIV and all those other STDS because in case I do want to be with somebody or I end up being with somebody, I don’t wanna give them anything. Y’know what I mean?

-Is there anything similar about the women who respond to you?

H- I get all different types of girls. It’s like- I saw this on this tv show- King of the Hill. And Boomhauer is showing the little kid how to pick up chicks. He takes him to a  woman’s clothing store, or something like that. And I don’t know what he whispered to the girls but some of them were slapping him, most of them were slapping him, but one of them gives him her number. …I don’t care how many girls slap me. As long as I get that one number. Then it’s a success. That’s the same thing on these websites. If ten women tell you to go fuck yourself and one says- Well, let’s meet up. Then you’ve made it.

-And can you tell from pictures which ones are more likely to sleep with you?

H- We’ll go to one person. Here, we’ll pick a slutty one. See, how the women will  show pictures of their tits and their ass? And they just want a relationship with a good-looking guy? Come on. (pulls up a woman’s profile on his phone) Like this one… Twenty-four, woman seeking man. Montebello. She lives in Montebello. And she’s online now.

-She has pictures. And she’s bent over- Is that a dining room table?

H- She’s showing you her crack. Y’know what I mean? So what am I supposed to think? You think she’s looking for a relationship? (laughs)

-Does this change your view of other women, the ones who are not on these websites?

H- Well, for me, I don’t judge a woman because she’s sexually active. I don’t consider her a ho, or a slut, just because she’s trying to get her needs met. She’s just like me. She’s just a regular person like I am. So, I don’t judge them. I just try to have a good time. And If I can have a good time with her and we can continue- fine. If it’s just a one-night thing- fine. But I don’t think she’s a slut or she’s dirty- or anything like that because she’s doing what she’s doing to get hers, y’know. I respect a woman who does this for free rather than go charge a man a hundred to five hundred dollars. I respect this one more than that one, because she’s doing what she wants to do, y’know.

-How do these relationships end once you’ve had your fun?

H- Usually, I don’t call them anymore. If they call me, I just don’t pick it up.

-You never tell them anything?

H- Nah. No, I don’t. Unless, I get on one, then I’ll call back again and see if she’ll still let me in. If not, then I’ll just move on.

-What fantasies do women want you to satisfy?

H- The majority… like threesomes. Two guys and her.

-Do you find women looking for bondage, S&M, and things from the kinkier side?

H- I don’t really fuck around with that. (laughs) I’m not down for that. Maybe if the moment was there and she said, “Fucking choke me,” or something like that then I would, but I’ve never really found a woman like that.

-Have you ever had a woman freak out, before, during or after you had sex?

H- No.

-Do you think any of these women you meet are married or in relationships?

H- I don’t think so.

-You think they’re all single?

H- …For the most part.

-What’s the age range of women you’ve met for sex?

H- I’ve had women from nineteen all the way up to about forty-four. And I’m forty-one. With the nineteen year-olds, they’re good. It’s just because they’re young. Y’know what I mean? They’re very active.

-How much sexual activity can you manage in a day?

H- What’s funny is- I can’t fuck the same girl three times. But I can fuck three different girls in the same day. Soon as I fuck one girl, I’m usually just kinda done, y’know. And I just want to move on to the next one. Try something different. Y’know what I mean? Try to fuck as many different ones as I can.

-What would you tell someone who wants to start cruising these sites for sex?

H- I think that if you’re gonna do this- be yourself, be honest, and go for what you’re looking for, don’t settle for less. I mean, if you can work whatever girl you want, just enjoy yourself, have good clean fun and then just take it for what it’s worth. Y’know? Don’t go psycho on her. Don’t disrespect her… because we’re all human beings. Just have fun with it.

 

 

 

Tags: , , , ,

GIRL SCOUT COOKIES & THE DELICIOUS FEMINIST AGENDA

5 Jun

girl_scouts

 

When you hear the words Girl Scouts what’s the first thing that comes to mind? Is it their iconic green vests? Or is it their long history of teaching girls to become strong and independent young women? Maybe it’s their equally long-standing tradition of inclusion and dedication to social justice? All of those would be completely reasonable associations. However, I’d bet you dollars to donuts the first thought that popped in your head was… the cookies. Right? It’s the first thing most folks associate with Girl Scouts. Which makes Girl Scout cookies a great advertisement for an international organization dedicated to the betterment of girls and young women. And now, thanks to recent charges of a radical Feminist agenda, certain critics wish to politicize the cookies. And they’ve repeatedly called for boycotts of the yearly sale of Thin Mints. That’s right, the Girl Scouts and their cookies are under attack.

Last year, the Girl Scouts celebrated their 100-year anniversary. Founded in Savannah, Georgia on March 12, 1912 by Juliette Gordon Low, the Girl Scouts of the United States of America (GSUSA) was created as an organization that could provide for girls what the Boy Scouts of America offered to boys. As the sons and daughters of farmers embraced the switch to industrialization, more and more folks found themselves living in cities, cut-off from nature and the moral, spiritual and physical lessons one finds in the country. Organizations such as the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts seemed like the perfect way to ensure girls and boys could still become strong, independent, well-rounded members of society.

Taken from their website, the official mission of the Girl Scouts reads:

“Girl Scouting builds girls of courage, confidence and character and makes the world a better place.”

 

ConcessionBox4

 

One way the Girl Scouts make the world a better place, an enterprise that teaches girls how to be courageous and confident is the annual sale of their world-famous cookies. Designed as a fundraiser for individual troops of Girl Scouts, the sale and distribution of cookies helps girls understand market dynamics and the importance of money. Equally important, they’re a way for girls to offer the world something valuable and greatly desired that has nothing to do with their bodies. The iconic cookies are so popular they occupy a special place in the popular imagination. They are a guilty pleasure and a yearly treat. And perhaps, most importantly, they are a positive brand that keeps an organization dedicated to the betterment of girls firmly in the minds of those who might not otherwise think about or concern themselves with such an institution. However you consider them, Girl Scout cookies have cultural power.

As of 2007, Girl Scouts reported selling roughly 200 million boxes annually. At an average of $4 a box, that’s some serious coin and vital to fundraising efforts. As you probably would guess, the most popular flavor is Thin Mints, making up 25% of sales each year. Followed closely by Samoas, which represent 19% of total sales. The other two most popular flavors are Tagalongs with 13%, and Do-si-dos with 11% of the market. The first sale of Girl Scout cookies took place in Muskogee, Oklahoma in 1917. As a fundraiser the cookie sales were so successful that by 1936, the Girl Scouts officially licensed their cookie production to commercial bakers in order to meet the ever-increasing demand.

 

CookiesInfo_cookies

 

Despite their now long-standing tradition of market-based capitalism, and their rather harmless compliance with what many would call a typically gendered stereotype of girls selling baked goods, in recent years, the Girl Scouts have come under increasing criticism from conservative critics. Although it’s been gaining steam, this isn’t a new fight. In a post dated, October 23, 2000, Kathryn Jean Lopez, writing for the National Review claimed, “The Girl Scouts’ leaders hope to make their youthful charges the shock troops of an ongoing feminist revolution.”

Today, she’s not alone in this judgment. Other outspoken critics have begun to call for boycotts of the Girl Scouts and their delicious cookies. This may sound extreme, perhaps even a touch silly, but to the ones calling for the boycotts, they’re deadly serious and deeply offended by what they see as a coordinated effort by the Girl Scouts organization to popularize a pro-abortion message. They’re also angered by the Girl Scouts’ advocacy for women’s rights. Perhaps, most curiously, such conservative critics also often cite what they view as support for the United Nations. Yep, that’s right. Conservative critics believe the Girl Scouts are an instrument aiding the covert and intentional undermining of American values. There’s a subtle irony that an organization labeled as radically Feminist is still best known for selling cookies.

While running for Congress in 2010, Rep. Hans Zeiger, from the 25th legislative district of Washington, was highly critical of the Girl Scouts. Interestingly, one should note, he’s an active assistant Scout Master and staunch advocate of the Boy Scouts of America. However, rather than focus his criticisms on the social agendas of his own organization he often turns his vitriol on the Girl Scouts. This has been his modus operandi for years. As a teenager, Rep. Hans Zeiger wrote in an article for the website, Intellectual Conservative, “The Girl Scouts allow homosexuals and atheists to join their ranks and they have become a pro-abortion, feminist training corps.” His articles have since been removed from the internet. But according to the website for the Seattle Gay News, in one of the removed articles, Congressman Zeiger wrote that Girl Scouts are “radical feminists, Lesbians, and cookie peddlers & allied with the abortion industry and Planned Parenthood.”

Joining Congressman Zeiger, in his condemnation of the Girl Scouts is Indiana state lawmaker, Rep. Bob Morris (Fort Wayne). In a letter he sent to his fellow Indiana legislators, and obtained by the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette, Morris wrote, “I did a small amount of web-based research, and what I found is disturbing. The Girl Scouts of America and their worldwide partner, World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts (WAGGGS), have entered into a close strategic affiliation with Planned Parenthood.”

Citing the protective role of parents with like-minded interests and values as his, he pointed out, “Many parents are abandoning the Girl Scouts because they promote homosexual lifestyles. In fact, the Girl Scouts education seminars girls are directed to study the example of role models. Of the fifty role models listed, only three have a briefly-mentioned religious background – all the rest are feminists, lesbians, or Communists.”

Doing a piss-poor impression of former Sen. Joe McCarthy and his Communist witch-hunts of the 1950s, the Indiana state lawmaker choose name-calling and slander as his chief rhetorical devices in order to call attention to what he sees as a new front in an ongoing culture war. In his view, this skirmish is being fought by troops of girls in green vests and pigtails, and their best weapons are their delicious cookies.

Another weapon in his imagined war on American values are Girl Scouts pamphlets. The specific one that enraged the Indiana representative, was entitled, “Happy, Healthy and Hot.” It was designed to address a girl’s sexual education. It discussed topics such as vaginal and anal intercourse, as well, as the suggestion that as girls matured they should have fun and explore their sexuality. Not quite a hard and fast advocacy of lesbianism, but it seems, with a certain sort of imagination such as his it might as well be an outright advocacy of lesbian sex and sexual deviance.

Spurred on by such imagined attacks on traditional lifestyle choices and normative sexual practices, many Christian Right spokespersons have joined in the chorus decrying the values Girl Scouts are teaching young women and girls. Other critics tend to focus on the inclusive nature of the Girl Scouts. They point out the fact a troop of Girl Scouts in Colorado decided to admit a boy who identifies as a girl, allowing him to join and take part in all Girl Scout activities as an equal member. In 2012, angered by the inclusion of this transgendered boy into the ranks of the Girl Scouts, one California teen, identifying herself as Taylor from Ventura County, California, and herself a Girl Scout, as well as the daughter of anti-LGBT activists, called for a nationwide boycott of Girl Scout cookies. Her online campaign for a boycott was covered by news outlets all across the country and the blogosphere. Which helped make her boycott of Girl Scout cookies on moral and ethical grounds become such a popular conservative rallying cry it was repeated earlier this year.

In January of 2013, the president of the Catholic Family & Human Rights Institute, Austin Ruse, said in a comment to The Christian Post, “The Girl Scouts partner locally, nationally and internationally with Planned Parenthood, the largest abortionist in the world. They should stop this and the only way to stop them is by hitting them in the pocketbook.” With an eye on the revenue stream, conservative critics certainly recognize the popularity of Girl Scout cookies, and see boycotts as the best avenue to raise awareness of their issues with the Girl Scouts.

Since Girl Scout cookies are an annual treat most folks look forward to with an unmistakable zeal, it’s an unfortunate shame they’ve become politicized and are now being used as a tool in a much larger social debate. However, since the cookies are so iconic and since the media continues to report on such protests, the trend of conservative calls to boycott them will likely now also be a yearly tradition to coincide with Girl Scout cookie season. If Girl Scout cookies are to become an annual battleground, it’s important that feminists, and anyone who opposes these conservative agendas, engage and support the Girl Scouts and their cookies.

Perhaps, buying large amounts of the cookies in support of the Girl Scouts can become an effective and delicious counter-offensive against conservative blowhards and their boycotts. No longer just a guilty pleasure, buying Girl Scout cookies can now be construed as political support for an embattled organization that needs your help. Girl Scout cookies certainly reach across social divides, ones that often separate feminists and non-feminists alike. Together, let’s help turn Girl Scout cookies into a mouth-watering advertisement for a healthy feminist agenda.

Who doesn’t like Thin Mints? Or Samoas? Or Tagalongs? Or one of the many other flavors they offer?

Obviously, claims Girl Scouts are “shock troops” for a radical feminist agenda are ridiculous. But equally so, the Girl Scouts shouldn’t be shamed or economically forced to shy away from their feminist ideals, their inclusive attitude and their long-standing tradition of teaching girls and women to be whomever they wish to be. If this is to be a battle, with your support Girl Scout cookies will become the most delicious weapon ever devised.

girl-scout-cookies

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

LIGERS AND TIGONS AND MULTIRACIAL KIDS… OH MY!

23 May

(this article originally appeared on ThoughtCatalog.com)

Liger

 

When I was a boy, if you were multiracial you learned pretty quickly there was no clearly designed spaced for you in the world. Humans tend to like well-defined categories. We think in terms of boundaries and groups. The fact I didn’t fit in any neat package meant I was something of a curiosity. It’s why my favorite animals growing up were the liger and the tigon. You may remember the liger — it was Napoleon Dynamite’s favorite animal, too.

If you never saw the movie, ligers and tigons are what happen when a lion and a tigress mate. They only exist in captivity since lions are from Africa and tigers are from Asia, and thus, their habitats don’t overlap. I always related to ligers and tigons. They were the only creatures in nature that seemed anything like my sister and me. Luckily, as I grew older, I met lots of other liger-and-tigon-kids. And these days, there are more and more of us born each year. In fact, there are so many of us we’ve a carved out a space for ourselves in the demographics of the census. Roar!

According to the New York Times, multiracial children are the fastest growing youth group in America. There are now roughly 4.2 million multiracial people in America. And there are far more of us all around the world. Yet, for lots of folks they still have trouble knowing what to do with us because we’re not exactly one thing or another. This wouldn’t be as much of a problem in most nations of the Caribbean, in Brazil, and in various nations of Latin America, where multiracial is almost the norm, rather than a rare exception. But in America, we’re an inconvenient mélange. Thankfully, as our numbers rise, such difficulties of categorization are becoming less and less of an issue. Obviously, this wasn’t the case when I was a kid.

Imagine this scene.

A little boy stands at a circular clothing rack in the woman’s section of a department store, curiously fingering the fabric of skirts. To his small eyes the variety of colorful clothing seems almost endless. Next to him stands a middle-aged woman, browsing the same skirts. On the other side of the little boy, a young 30-something mother shops. Surprised to see a little boy, seemingly alone in the woman’s clothing section, the middle-aged lady grabs the child by the hand and drags him away from the clothing rack and out towards an aisle. She yells at the top her lungs…

“Has anyone seen this boy’s mother?!”

I was that little boy. The young 30-something was my mother. I was about four feet from my mother when the over-protective middle-aged lady grabbed my hand and dragged me away. Her heart was in the right place. She thought she was looking out for a lost child. What she failed to understand was how a brown-skinned boy could be the son of a little white lady. Our biological connection was missed because the middle-aged woman was looking for an “equally brown mother.”

It’s always been something of a problem for Americans to easily understand. Most folks usually require some math and basic biology to wrap their minds around our relationship. I’m not adopted. She’s my mother. I started life in her body. And yes, that means at one time she had sex with a black man and my sister and I were just two results of that carnal knowledge. You’d think based on some of the questions I’ve heard over the years, people were talking about breeding dogs, crossing donkeys with horses, or perhaps mixing wines, but certainly not children. It’s the 21st Century. Yet, many Americans are still surprised by how a little white lady could be my mother.

My father is American black (a mix of Ghanaian, Cherokee, British and some unknown West African tribes). My mother is American white. (English, Irish, Scottish, French, Swedish, German, and Dutch). They’re both mixes as well.

To make things in my family even more complicated my sister now has children. Their father is an American white guy. Her children are both fair-skinned blondes. One of her children thinks of herself as white and the other thinks he’s black. Being kids in Ohio they want to be one easily understandable thing. And my sister urges them to self-identify, so neither of them goes with the multiracial tag. I often worry about my nephew, who calls himself black despite his blond hair and fair-skin. Gotta love his chutzpah. But I imagine he’s going to endure all sorts of awkward and hurtful moments when he hears racist comments from folks who assume he’s just a middle American white kid.

When I was my nephew’s age, I was constantly surprised when I was confronted with racial bias- like the time when a racist owner of a Florida ice cream shop ignored me and kept serving white families instead of me. He served three families who came into his store after me before I realized what was happening. I thought he just didn’t notice me waiting. I’ve always been somewhat optimistically naive, kinda like Pollyanna but with a penis.

Now, my sister gets to repeat the same experiences we had as kids. Only this time she’s the differently colored mother. My niece and nephew are so stereotypically white-looking my grandmother, once told me on the phone, “Looks like we washed the black out in one generation.” She’s from Iowa. Her racial “white-washing” statement might strike you as patently offensive, but my sister and I are used to her. My mother’s mother is a straight shooter. She’s wasn’t saying it like it’s a good or bad thing- she just tells it like it is. Ignoring any offensive aspects of her statement, she’s entirely right. There are almost no traces of any American Indian or African ancestry in my sister’s children. None. Which continues to make things weird for our family.

There was this one time when my sister was in town visiting. I took care of my niece to give my sister, who was pregnant with my soon-to-be-nephew, time alone with our mother. My niece was a few months past two years old, new to walking and just learning to talk efficiently, but not expertly. Embracing her fast-developing sense of independence and self-government, as children do in their “terrible-twos,” she often threw temper tantrums when she didn’t get what she wanted. This intimidated me. Not being an expert babysitter, I thought it’d be cool if my niece and I took a walk to get some ice cream. She, like me, loves ice cream.

Halfway there I realized I’d forgotten my wallet. I told my niece we needed to head back to my place to fetch it. She was not into that idea. She’d been promised ice cream and had no interest in going anywhere else. So she turned and ran away from me, down the sidewalk in the direction of ice cream. Money wasn’t something she understood, but ice cream was. She had a head-start. I chased after her.

The problem was, to an observer, my little blonde niece was running from a black man with long dreadlocks who was dressed like an unemployed musician. She ran past a Korean church. The pastor happened to be outside. I was about to catch my niece when he stepped in to protect the crying, fleeing child.

He picked up my niece. And he refused to hand her to me because he didn’t believe I was her uncle. I didn’t get my niece back until two policemen arrived on the scene and were finally convinced when my two-year old niece called me Uncle ZZ. Once she figured out neither the pastor nor the policemen were going to give her ice cream, she knew she had to speak up. The adults listened to a two-year old before they believed me.

I know everyone involved did what needed to be done. In many ways, I’m glad they did what they did. It’s important we protect children. But I think if my niece and I looked more alike, or if the minister and policemen could understand that a black man might have a little white girl for a niece, it wouldn’t have taken them twenty minutes to clear it up and give me my niece back. And I’m sure any multiracial family can tell you similar stories.

When I consider my family tree stretching back into history, I imagine American Indians struggling to survive a surprise famine; and European peasants scratching at the earth, foraging for food to outlast the long winter; and West African hunters dragging home fresh-caught game to quell the hunger of their children, and thanks to all their efforts to live, thrive and survive, I’m here to write this. And yeah, I’m sure for some of them it would be totally confusing if they saw I was the end-result of all their labors, but imagining them gives me a global cultural view. The fact that my family tree’s roots are buried in three different continents makes me feel connected to a much larger story than race as it’s understood in America.

I know, as time goes by, there will be more and more of us caramel-colored kids. Maybe future generations won’t have to put up with so many awkward questions and sidelong stares. Perhaps, we’ll finally transcend the divisions that still bedevil today’s world. This thought makes me happy. Because as my family proves, just like the mutts that we are, stripped of the hues of our human skin, we’re all the same animal. We’re all one family sharing the same planet.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

HOW TO NOT HATE ALL THE HAPPY COUPLES

21 May

 

(this article originally appeared on ThoughtCatlog.com)

05-quintessentially-portland-oregon-sign-couple-kissing-photo-by-daniel-stark

Today’s one of those days when it seems like the universe is messing with me. Wherever I go my eyes run smack into yet another kissing couple. Warm weekend days in Los Angeles bring out the lovers. It’s like how Kelis and her milkshake bring all the boys to the yard. It’s one of those moth-to-flame scenarios. Los Angeles really knows how to do Spring. Everywhere one’s eyes focus flowers are in full bloom. The weather feels warm but not yet too hot. The flesh-revealing outfits of pedestrians are sexy in a way that makes horny drivers risk car accidents. It’s a perfect season for romance and love.

Earlier today, I was in traffic in West Hollywood, waiting at a red light. Two dudes on bicycles were standing at the same stoplight, also waiting for it to change colors. As if on cue, they leaned toward each other and started to kiss. Embarrassing as it is to admit I sneered at the sight of them. Then I felt eyes on me. When I turned my head, I caught the driver in the car next to mine, staring at me. He looked disgusted with me. His face pinched in the same way I was glowering at the two kissing lovers.

Quick to do the math, I guessed what his story must be. I figured the other driver assumed I was some certified homophobic asshole. I always hate how my face is so easy to read. Freeway billboards aren’t as easy to read as my face. I wanted to drop my window and explain to the driver I didn’t care a whit that two guys were lip-locking at the stoplight. I don’t lump people into groups and then hate on them. I always dislike people individually. I wasn’t mad because two gay dudes were kissing. I was mad because I wasn’t kissing.

Basically, I was envious of their affection for each other. I knew, with the same certainty one knows rain will get you wet, I had no one to kiss and my lips would remain dry for the conceivable future. Jealousy gnawed on my heart with the ferocity of a starving rat. It was just like how my girl Fiona Apple sings it, “hunger hurts.”

Those bicycle-riding lovers could’ve been two grey-haired geezers swapping spit and I would’ve sneered at them. Luckily, the two kissing dudes couldn’t see me. Only the other driver caught sight of my ugly face. But I couldn’t explain to him how I was solely disgusted with myself. The two dudes were just a mirror and made it impossible for me to ignore the fact I had no love to call my own. I’d been depriving myself the ecstasy of such a spontaneous kiss. Their sweet love moment made me feel all the more alone, sitting at that red light on a warm spring day in May.

Couple kissing on tandem bike on beach boardwalk

If you look at the world as a reflection of your state of affairs, you will experience moments like these. You will say to yourself in that hideous serpentine voice of envy, “Fuck that — I don’t need to see that.” It doesn’t really matter what “that” is, all you care is, it’s not you, or it’s not yours. This is a mistake we all make. Just like how children get upset when they see other kids enjoying bigger cookies than the one they got for snack-time. For some reason we tend to focus on how our cookie isn’t as large as the cookie others are enjoying. And then we get mad. It may not be love that upsets you but rather it’s the fact others have more money, power, or prestige. It doesn’t really matter. It’s not the cookie but the comparison that triggers jealousy.

It’s exceedingly difficult not to measure our lives by contrasting our circumstances against others. One of the hardest things you have to do on a day-to-day basis is ignore the temptation to compare yourself to someone else. It’s just so easy. And it’s so misleading. How do you know anyone else’s circumstances? Those two guys on their bikes might’ve been kissing because it was the last day they’d ever spend together before one of them returned to Portugal.

Rarely, if ever, do we detect the truth. Yet we think we know what’s going on when it’s happening right in front of our faces. We tell ourselves the story of what we see. And we’re almost always wrong. There’s usually something we’re missing from the picture. Yet this doesn’t stop us from having an emotional reaction because there aren’t many stronger or faster feelings than jealousy, which is usually followed by the anger that courses through us as we “see” how everyone else is doing better than we are.

We compare ourselves so often and so easily a casual observer would think we actually gained something from it. But on the real, nope, we’re just seeing the world as a reflection of our mental/emotional state. A person only knows what they know. And there’s just so much each of us doesn’t know. We rarely get it right when we guess. Which makes it a completely useless waste of your limited time on this garden we call Earth.

The guy in the car was most likely wrong about me. And it’s just as likely I was wrong about him. Maybe I reminded him of some college roommate he despised for sleeping with his ex-girlfriend and he hadn’t even noticed I was sneering at the two kissing guys on the bikes. And those two dudes enjoying a sunny day in May… maybe theirs was a secret affair, and there was no beautiful love involved at all, and instead it was a moment of escape and stolen romance. I don’t know. We never really know.

If, like me, you catch sight of what appears to be a happy couple, and their love makes you feel lonely, unwanted and passed over, the only truth in that moment is, you feel alone. Instead of chalking it up to the gross unfairness of life, do something about that shit. And rather than swallow any more bitterness or resentment, focus on the positive, think about how you can find someone who wants to wet your lips with kisses. Anger and jealousy won’t help you find such happiness. They’ll push it away. So fuck all that noise. Reject your tendency to compare. Seek what you wish to find. This is the season for romance not envy. And you deserve beauty and love, too.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

HOW CAN A CACTUS AND CLEAN LAUNDRY CHANGE YOUR LIFE?

16 May

(this article originally appeared on ThoughtCatalog.com)

 

beautiful-cacti-cactus-cactuses-colorful-Favim.com-206938-76006_640x480

 

How do you feel about doing the little things in life? Don’t know about you but I absolutely, fundamentally hate to do laundry. Like any normal person, I reserve most of my hatred for reprehensible things like child slavery, sex trafficking, and Donald Trump. But if there’s still any loathsome feelings left over I apply them to my laundry. Despite my irrational hatred for it, I just did all my laundry and I feel way better. Not quite orgasmic but it’s far better than my typical Tuesday morning. Smells better, too.

Why is it so easy to forget the good feelings we gain from doing the little things in life?

Why do we ignore that little voice that reminds us what we need to do, or usually, more accurately, what we should get up and go do?

Do we resent authority so much, that even when it’s the little voice inside us, we’ll ignore it?

Maybe you don’t. But I need to listen to mine more because I usually forget how good clean laundry feels. Every week it slips from memory. For some silly reason, I have trouble keeping in mind how little things like clean laundry actually make a huge difference. Perhaps I need to get a tattoo to remind me: Do The Little Things, Jackass!

You might have heard someone say: You are your truest self when nobody is looking.

In the moments when you’re alone, when there’s nothing to gain or risk socially, when there’s no one to impress, no one to scold or shame you, that’s when you see who and how you are as plainly and obviously as the sun in the sky. There’s no denying or rationalizing how you behave when you’re alone. There’s no one around to secretly blame, no one to motivate you to do what you must. Those dishes in the sink are like some accusatory finger. If company was coming over they probably wouldn’t still be there. That would be embarrassing. Since it’s just you… you can wash the dishes later.

Yet two unspoken questions remain: Doesn’t your environment matter? Aren’t you as important as your guests?

In order to enjoy some life in my home I keep cacti and other succulent plants. They’re not my favorite plants but they can live for weeks without water. It’s hard to kill a cactus. Of course… I’ve done it. But it takes time. It’s why I don’t have a pet. I’d worry about any creature that came under my care. You don’t need to watch me slow-kill a houseplant to know maintenance isn’t my thing. All you really need to see is my attitude towards laundry and there’s no denying I suck at doing those terribly necessary things we call life maintenance. The fact I dislike laundry means I also forget about oil changes. You’ll notice it’s the same choice disguised by details. There’s an invisible connection between the two. And it’s the same for you- any one choice you make resembles all your other choices.

Buying cacti and keeping them alive helps me to remember to do my laundry, which helps me remember to change my oil, which helps me remember to buy groceries on a regular basis. Each choice ripples and makes it easier to make other smart choices. Basically, not killing a cactus means I eat better.

If you have a few things about yourself you’d like to change, behaviors you’d like to adopt, bad habits you’d like to drop, it doesn’t matter if it’s a big thing like quitting smoking, losing weight, learning to save money, or just a small thing like remembering to do your laundry, here’s a little secret that’ll help you find the ceaseless motivation necessary to change. And trust me I know because I need the reminder probably way more than you do.

The secret is: don’t focus on the thing you want to change.

With such tight tunnel vision you’re often easily overcome by negative thinking. You psychologically compound the situation whenever you obsessively fixate on what you wish to change. And then every time you fail to change or make that new choice… you beat yourself up a little more. Instead of focusing on that one negative thing, such as a bad habit, enlarge your gaze and pay attention to how you do everything.

If you want to remember to do your laundry, make sure you floss. Value your health throughout your life. If you want to quit smoking, start playing softball or kickball, or whatever the hipsters in your ‘hood play in some league. It’ll help you make healthier choices when they’re fun. If you want to want to lose weight, don’t start some crazy strict diet and say no to yourself all the time. That’s horseshit. What are you a bad puppy? Something like weight-loss can be easy and fun. Don’t eat three hours before you go to bed, eat breakfast, then throughout the rest of the day eat multiple colors of food, which becomes a fun daily challenge. I had green, yellow and orange, what should my red and blue foods be today? And go find a pool and start swimming regularly. Or if a bathing suit makes you feel awkward, pick an activity you enjoy doing that gets you up and moving. Within a week, you’ll see how much easier it is to make new food choices. Your general attitude will shift from negative obsession to positive gain. You get to focus on yes instead of no. You’ll naturally shift your priorities and make different choices.

Experts say that after making new choices for 90 days or so, you unconsciously develop new habits. In three months, you develop a new way to move through the world. 90 days… that’s a quarter of the year, a season. You can totally do three months if you’re saying yes to yourself all the time. And as you benefit from doing those little things and you keep making different choices, you get stoked with happy results like clean laundry, good feelings like maybe a trip to the beach (or pool), and you’ll start to notice the effects of your spreading confidence, making it easier for you to continue to make better choices, and those old bad behaviors/old habits, your poor choices, they fall away like dead leaves in autumn.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

THE WAY YOU DO ANYTHING IS THE WAY YOU DO EVERYTHING

16 May

(this article originally appeared on ThoughtCatalog.com)

pumping gas

Whenever I meet a new person, I imagine them as a five-year-old. This isn’t some salesman’s secret. I don’t do this for a sense of power or to calm me down the way picturing an audience naked works for a public speaker. When you see the five-year-old version of someone it helps you get a sense of who they are on the inside, beyond their social cues of clothing, haircut, shoes, jewelry, purse, etc. You can hone in on that kid hiding inside their adult skin. It’s like seeing the best part of every person you meet. Your inner five-year-old is the dreaming and hopeful child who basically understands the world yet can only imagine adult life, and is the one clearly articulating your core values, voicing how you think and believe a person should behave; the kid holds the values you started out with before compromise and experience entered the discussion.

In so many ways, we’re all still basically children dressed up in our adult clothing. Yeah, you learned to drive, to show up to class and work, you may know how to shave without cutting yourself, match your handbag with your heels, drink like an adult, cook complex homemade dinners and pay your taxes on time; but I hate to break it to you, with just a little practice anyone can see through all your posturing and practiced behavior and spot that inner five-year-old, peering out from your adult eyes. The kid is that little voice you hear, the guiding spirit that suggests how you should do the things you do. Then your ever-aging conscious mind considers the kid’s opinion and decides. The result of their dialog determines your way through the world.

For some reason, similar to how we pay attention to and get tricked by haircuts and jewelry and shoes, we also tend to focus on what someone says more than what they do. Not just with politicians. We do it with everyone. We overlook the obviousness of a person’s behavior and choose instead to interpret a strings of words. Yet, even for the most eloquent amongst us, words are blunt inexact tools. At best they might convey the beauty of a poem or intimacy of a song. At their deepest they transmit the ocean of meaning found in a novel or textbook. But tripping from the mouths of most people and finger-punched into keypads, words are often indirect riddles of meaning. And thus, words easily confuse us, and we read into them whatever we want to hear or believe.

Any television detective worth their catchphrase proves the fallacy of this thinking. The boob tube gumshoes all agree. Don’t try to prove a presumed conclusion using what people say. Instead let a person’s behavior paint a picture for you. It’s the difference between paint-by-numbers and the richness of watercolor.

The underlying idea is: The way you do anything is the way you do everything.

It’s pretty simple when you get right down to it. From the ongoing dialog between your little voice and your conscious mind you develop your attitude, a way of doing things, an algorithm of choices you regularly make based on your behavioral preferences. And it’s observable in everything you do. As much as this process can help you see yourself clearly, you can also use it to understand others.

If you’re the sort who’s often tricked and misled by others, try studying a person’s way through the world and it will help you see them far more clearly. When you pay attention like Sherlock Holmes, you’ll watch without trying to see anything.

Our biases give us blind spots, our prejudices are like funhouse mirrors, and our desires offer us rose-colored glasses and tend to only remember the honey-sweet words, often out of context. We prefer to focus on what we want to see and hear- for both good and bad. Such as how you might try to read into the few words and glimpsed behaviors of a crush. But your data, your “evidence,” is usually faulty. If you want to see a person’s way just watch what they do and how they do it.

With a little practice, eventually it’s like using a telescope to reveal a distant galaxy. It’s the same trick novelists employ. And way back in the day, Aristotle famously said, “action reveals character.” That’s true for fiction and just as true in the stranger world of reality.

Imagine a moment when you have a limited opportunity to observe someone, like say, at a gas station. From just a few actions you can extrapolate all sorts of predictions about their future behavior. You will be generalizing. You will sometimes be wrong. But more often that not, when you pay attention, you’ll notice the way a person does one thing indicates a lot about the way they’ll do something else. Such as… how a guy pumps gas often illustrates how he’ll be in bed.

Consider his arrival. Does he pull up to the pump, slam on the brakes and make the car rock to a stop? Or does he ease up very slowly and gently apply the brakes to bring the car to a full and complete stop? Once he’s out from behind the driver’s seat, does the guy rush to pay, swiping his card with the speed of a hammer strike? Or is he the type to awkwardly fumble about as he pulls his card out of his wallet? Perhaps, he’s a little bit geeky and squints to read the tiny electronic numbers on the display; but you notice, he’s gentle with the keypad buttons so the transaction goes slowly, but smoothly. And you know there’s nothing wrong with slow and smooth.

Of course, there’s the obvious question. How does he insert the nozzle? Is he rough with it, forcing it in with no regard to the car? Or is he awkward about it, scratching the car with the metal tip? Does it take him three clumsy attempts to get the darn thing in? Or does he casually slide it in? Obviously, not his first time pumping gas.

And let’s say you have a little time on your hands, so you watch what he does while the gas pumps and he waits. Does he start grooming himself in public like an ape at the zoo? Or does he immediately get back in the car and start air drumming to some shitty band you don’t like? Does he keep staring at the under-aged girl leaning against her shitbox Nissan with Wisconsin plates? Or does he stare at himself, admiring his reflection in the mirrored aluminum paneling of the gas pump? Maybe he notices you and flashes a small smile, since he caught you watching him. Oh, look he has a sense of humor.

When the gas is finally done pumping, how he finishes is just as important. Sometimes, it’s more telling. Having gotten what he came for, does he yank the nozzle out, then quickly, almost automatically, slam it back into the pump and drive away? Or does he pull out too early and wind up shooting gas all down the side of the car? Or maybe he’s careful to ease the gas nozzle back into the pump. Perhaps, he’s also the sort who lets you pull your car out first so you easily merge with the flow of traffic and he smiles just before you drive away.

From a stolen moment at a gas station — you get a pretty good sense of a guy, and with a little imagination you can picture how he does other things. It works on anyone. And it also works on you. Others can detect what you’re like just by watching how you do what you do, too. We’re all transparent as windows… to anyone who’s really looking.

I hope you understand the gas station wasn’t some sexist or hetero-normative metaphor comparing a woman to a sedan getting gassed-up by a bunch of different dudes. The car in this particular metaphor could’ve just as easily been a totally transgender SUV. It’s not about the gender, sexual attraction, or the car, it’s about how people show their approach to life in everything they do.

A series of actions comprising a single human moment is a symphony of movement and motivation. If you want to understand other people, why waste time or sanity deciphering what they say or text? Instead, watch the ballet of their behavior dance before you. Ignore a person’s words. Just pay attention and they can’t help but reveal themselves to you.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

← Older Entries

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 39 other followers