Spooked

Ok, so I’m a little freaked out lately. No, it’s not because it’s Halloween season–I love that. Someone broke into the office down the hall from my work’s last week–apparently in the evening some time between 5 and 7 p.m., and I was there until 6 p.m. So I was just down the hall when it was happening.

Luckily no one got hurt; whoever it was took several laptops and apparently rummaged around in the employees’ belongings. One of the people in my office thinks she saw the guy that did it, though, walking around in our office an hour or so before the break-in happened. She said that a man wandered past her office, and she stopped him and asked what he was doing. She said he looked suspicious (She thought to herself to ask the building manager why he would hire someone who looked like he was on drugs) and was carrying residential-size air filters. He told her he was “just finishing up,” and was trying to find his way out.

Well, she knew better than to believe he was working on air filters, not only because she recognized the filters were small, home-use ones but because she knows that our office does not take conventional filters (we have some sort of industrial-style air system, and people come and work on in all the time–so she knows all the maintenance people.)

I was feeling creeped out today at work because there’s a side door to our office right next to my desk, and sometime after 4:30 (when one of my co-workers leaves and locks that door) I heard someone bang into it, like they expected it to be open. I supposed it could have been one of my co-workers coming back from the bathroom, not realizing the door had been locked yet, but I don’t know. It also could’ve been that guy trying to come in the side way, unnoticed.

Because I didn’t notice anyone walking past my desk, I felt pretty weird about that all day today, until I talked to another co-worker who was there at the same time I was. She said she didn’t notice anything, either, so the guy must’ve only been in there a few minutes.

Either way, the guy was in our office casing out the joint. And from now on, when I’m working there late, I’m locking myself in.

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I am not a baby-killer

Since my last post sparked some controversy, let me clear one thing up: I am NOT advocating people have abortions all willy-nilly.

I realize, however, that it is a serious decision to make, and believe that it should be made by the mother–with the input of the father, if that’s possible, fair or desired. A friend of mine commented that the debate should not be when life begins, but whether the mother will be able to deal with the consequences (“suicide, depression, scarred uterus causing infertility, cancer and many other things”)–I am assuming she meant of either choice.

I completely agree with her that the consequences should be weighed in this choice, but don’t agree that it’s what the law should be based on. Before making the choice you must weigh those consequences, true. But those will vary per person, and a law cannot do so. After the choice has been made, in the mind of the woman, then she must contend with the legal aspect. If her choice is to abort, the law provides that she may do so. If her choice is to allow the fetus to grow, she may do that as well.

The point is: She has a choice.

Enter the debate of where life begins–when people try to bring the court in to it. The abortion controversy is divided between people who believe life begins at conception, and others who believe it begins later. (This is WAAAY oversimplification but it’s 7:30 a.m. and I don’t feel like getting into all of this argument.) That’s all I was saying about that argument–in order for the court to make a decision on something, they have to go by something that will be a common denominator for all women, not something subjective.

Anyway, another argument I heard was that if you get pregnant, you are irresponsible and therefore are not responsible enough to make a sound, moral decision. My response to that is: If you are not responsible enough to make a life-altering decision, how the hell are you going to be responsible enough to take care of a damn child?! How are you going to be responsible enough to carry that fetus until it becomes a child, and until it is born, and then give it up for adoption and be able to deal with the emotions you experience afterward?

Look, people: I am not advocating abortion as a form of birth control. I am not advocating it at all. I can honestly say that I have had that “Oh shit where’s my freaking period” moment, a moment that lasted four days and got to the point where I really was thinking about the decision I might need to make. And my thoughts probably would surprise you. I am advocating a choice.

We need to acknowledge the fact that whether a woman wants to have an abortion is a decision she (whether the court permits or not) will make in her mind no matter what. Let her make that choice in her life, too. She’s the one that will be dealing with the consequences.

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I could never have been on the debate team in high school

I had a fiery debate with a friend last night about abortion rights and gay marriage. I hope he was just playing devil’s advocate or I will have to think him a closeminded fool. But I will still let him be the guy on the couch. Even if he still doesn’t provide me with drugs.

I was mad at myself because I thought of something this morning that I did not think of last night. We were arguing about abortion rights (much harder to debate than gay marriage rights, by the way) and he said that an abortion is killing someone and that is not ok. But what if she’s raped? I asked. Well that’s a different story, he said.

I’m calling bullshit.

Those who believe abortion is killing but then say it’s ok if someone was raped must live in the land of two wrongs make a right. Killing is either wrong all the time or abortion is not killing.

But alas, laws are penned in black and white and we live in the gray they create.

I can see how abortion rights are so hotly debated. I can see how the debate of where life begins is important. I suppose I should decide that before I ever need to decide whether to get one. Hopefully I will never need to make that decision. But if I ever do, I want it to be mine to live with. I am an upstanding citizen in good (ok, most of the time) moral standing and I will bear that cross myself. No one should have to share that responsibility with some 65-year-old fat white guy from Arizona.

However, last night I discovered that the debate over gay marriage is what really fires me up. Oh, I get so angry at people that want to ban gay marriage. Seriously, folks. It’s not like straight people have it all figured out and are right-on with their marriages and should be worried about the reputation of the institution being tarnished. Shit, I read something today in The New York Times that married couples are now a minority in this country.

My friend’s argument was that laws are made based on the morals of those creating the laws, and those morals come from the bible. And because they believe it is right they are allowed to impose their morals on everyone else.

My point is we are not a fucking theocracy, and I’m sure there are plenty of laws that have been changed as times changed. Although, it still might be illegal for unmarried couples to have sex, for women to perform fellatio and for more than six unrelated women to live under one roof. Gay people that would like to get married are not committing any moral (NEWSFLASH: YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ, FOLLOW, BELIEVE OR CARE A SHIT ABOUT THE BIBLE TO HAVE MORALS AND VALUES) sins, they are not undermining the sanctity of marriage (thanks, Britney Spears) and they certainly are not hurting the lives of anyone else. Hell, if every company, especially small businesses, would offer gay couples insurance, everyone (yes, you too straight people) could even benefit by getting their premiums reduced based on how many employees are participating in the plan.

So, in closing, I would like to say: if you are against gay marriages and abortion THEN DON’T GET ONE AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.

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Fourteen more days

The illness woke up again this weekend. Today it stretched its arms inside me. I went to the doctor and got gray and peach pills to put it back to sleep.

The rain is beating my windows so hard; I believe it is something personal between those two.

My body is tired of healing. It wants to be reckless and irresponsible but I won’t let it. Yet.

Into the Depths of Hell I Wandered

Today I went shopping at the Stones River Mall–something I try really hard NOT to do, or at least not to do often. It was quite busy, so I am left with the impression that even on a glorious autumn afternoon, squirmingly annoying teens see this as a sign that they must head straight for the sale racks at Aeropostal and JC Penny.

Normally, if I need to visit a mall for clothing, I drive to Cool Springs, Hickory Hollow and sometimes Green Hills. But alas, I am broke (well, saving for a new car), and cannot afford myself the usual several hundred dollar clothing budget. I am also not using credit cards anymore, and this is the paycheck where I pay almost all my bills, so you can see I was in a predicament.

With the weather changing, I need some new clothes. Work clothes and regular clothes. I didn’t feel well enough today to make the trek to Cool Springs and didn’t have the heart to brave the ghetto of Hickory Hollow, so I decided to try my luck at Stones River.

Ugh.

I made out OK on the regular clothes, but no so well on the work clothes. I’m sorry, but at 27 with a “real” job, I just can’t buy $15 business casual clothes at JC Penny and feel good about myself. I can, however, buy $15 non-wear-to-work shirts at American Eagle and Old Navy and feel awesome about the money I saved.

Though I emerged from the depths of hell (aka the mall) empty-handed for work clothes, I learned (or remembered) a few things about the mall and why I hate going there:

  • Everyone working at the mall is younger than me. This is annoying, but not as annoying as the people working there that are older than me. Seriously, if you’re 45, why are you working the cookie stand?
  • No one cares about customer service anymore. They are totally wrapped up in talking to their BFF about who they “hooked up with” last night.
  • “Hooking up with” means making out to those under 16. (that’s not what I would have guessed, but I overheard this truth while in a dressing room)
  • 26 or 27 is old. Really old.
  • Fat chicks are still wearing clothing they shouldn’t be, and aren’t ashamed of their love handles hanging out. In fact, I think some chicks were flailing them at me today. (Note: I am not trying to be disrespectful to people that are overweight. But seriously, if you’re pushing 250 and trying to squeeze your cheese into leggings and a tube top: stop it. STOP IT.

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Playing Catch-Up

I’ve been bad at blogging lately, but mainly it’s because all last week we were painting our master bedroom. You wouldn’t think it would be such a daunting task, but apparently when you’re an anal-retentive perfectionist like I am, it takes three times as long to paint. But in the end it was worth it. Our room looks great, if I may say so myself. The color is as close to perfect as it could be–it’s exactly what I had imagined in my mind, and I’m not exaggerating. As soon as I get a picture I’ll post, though it might be hard to capture the exact color in print. It changes a bit depending on the color.

This Saturday my friend Aubrey and I went to the Tennessee Highland Games, which, for those of you who aren’t familiar with it, is a Scottish heritage festival. This year it was held on the grounds of Castle Gwynn (where the Renaissance Festival is always held), though in the past it’s been held at MTSU. Although the entertainment was better (sheep herding, log tosses, haggis tosses, bagpipe playing EVERYWHERE, Scottish bands), the food was pretty crappy (as in no variety AT ALL) and there were hardly any arts, crafts or jewelry. The Ren Fest has much better food and definitely better booths. I’m all about learning about my heritage, but 90 percent of the booths at this festival were about each person’s own clan/heritage. That’s great, but why do I care? Maybe I missed the point of the fest. The sheep herding by a border collie was worth it for me though. And I still have my MTSU ID so I got in for half price ($7). Hey, I’m still technically enrolled in grad school.

For pictures, go here. Anyway, in a little bit I’ll have pics from the festival posted on my Web site so be sure to check them out! Here’s one:

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