Letter to MY Unborn Son

Author’s Note: I am writing this in the wake of the last thing I wrote, but this time, it’s thanks to my newest blog subscriber, so follow My Ramblings on WordPress after reading this. Enjoy.

Dear Unborn Son,

I’d like to welcome you to a broken world. Like I told your potential unborn sister, I want to show you what kind of world I exist in. AS your potential mother, it is my responsibility to tell you what you’ll likely see, and try and help you become the man you want to be. Whether you’re as fierce as Boba Fet fighting off Tuscan raiders in a camp on some distant planet or you’re as rugged as Han Solo on the Millennium Falcon or you’re as upright as the Mando when he’s rescued the Grogu child, well, whatever you become I can’t wait to find out. There is one thing I want to give you a few pointers and advice on.

Please do me one favor when you exit my body and enter this violent and uncertain world. Don’t, play, with, guns. I don’t want to ever see a headline with your name on it as being a mass shooter. IF you see someone committing such horrific things, do what you must, even if it means giving your life. Hey, even Darth Vader gave his life for his son too. IF your daddy isn’t around for this heroic act, well, he just might, you will know him by then. Just remember, when your father pulls off the Darth Vader mask behind the genteel features he possesses, you will notice the man you want to become, the man you should strive to be. I imagine that sons would be more like their fathers, not obviously the opposite. Right at this moment, I’m asking questions, thinking of the kind of person you want to become. As a boy, you will want to swing on the monkey bars, pitch baseballs on a field, and don’t worry, if you have a little or bigger sister, she will be raised equally along with you, and she’ll play ball the same if she chooses. For you, it is your call whether you want to play ball with the other boys in the hood or stand out as someone who actually gives credit to wherever credit is due, and plays ball with the boys not necessarily in the hood. I can’t wait to meet you and see your personality shine through. Perhaps you’ll have your father’s wayward but beautiful locks, reddish blonde in color, his blue eyes, but I kind of wish you would look more like myself. My eyes are brown, my hair as well. My nose is a bit short, so that nose is good on you too. I’d like to think you have a fierce determination, and like Boba Fet, you are determined to get payback for what is done to you. But like Luke Skywalker, you do what is right. Even in the final act of heroism in your life, I will want to see it be that you save your daddy from a world of learned helplessness, hopelessness, gloom and doom. Like Palpatine and Darth Vader, the men I’ve dated seemed like impossible mountains to climb. I’m picking up the pieces from a fifteen years in captivity, and if you’re fighting to get down here, keep fighting, because trust me, you will want to raise your saber high when you grow to be as tall as your father. Unlike Luke Skywalker however, I don’t ever want to tell you that the father who gave you life is dead. Ben Kenobi told Luke Skywalker this in Episode 4, so when you get to be a good age for this, I’ll let you watch that, and you’ll get the point. When Darth Vader rolls into the big paternity reveal, you’ll understand that is the most iconic line in all of history in terms of Star Wars. Your sister and you will not join any such thing as the dark side, and if your father emerges from that funny Darth Vader mask of cold and distance, well, how can I best explain it. There was a time your daddy and I were cold, and I was oblivious to your presence in my body, but trust me, your daddy would probably have thought I should burn in Hell for having you, but when he sees you exit and hears you cry, whether on film or not, maybe he’ll understand that as a man, his son is his life. It’s like that with most men. Men must gage with what they have with one another.

For a time, I thought love was a cruel joke, that is until you came into my thoughts. Perhaps it is not a cruel joke. Your strength and determination to live will probably baffle both me and your dad. It’s not like you will be conceived by the miti kloriets, remember that. I have never heard of but one boy conceived without the touch of a man, and that was Jesus, son of Mary. Even so, your father will be a strong and determined man, wanting to stand on his own two feet in a world that hates every last thing in him, blindness included. I’m also blind. We may both be blind, but we’re not stupid. We know that if you arrive in this broken tattered world, you will be loved and greeted with the same pomp and circumstance as anyone else. Your sister will get the same treatment as you will, and she might be as badass as Princess Leia, and someday there will be a gentle and strong being who will ask you to be their sidekick, guide in life.

Here’s what I want you to know about me and your dad.

I think you should know about him first. For one, he’s had it rough. Forgive this guy, it’s not like he wants to break back and bend you over his knee and whip your body if you misbehave. I won’t let that happen either. Like in the prior thing I wrote, I will only spank you if it’s your birthday, and even then, only in jest. When you mature into manhood, I ask you to do a few things, not too many things, just listen as I advise you because this is going to be tough on any young man.

One, you will have plenty of opportunities to explore your options. IF you see a girl, you like the girl, ask before you embrace or kiss her, and later make love to her. Consent is what it’s all about. You’ll thank me for this pearl of advice, trust me. IF you want to be a father, and your dad in turn becomes a grandfather, don’t impose your will on minor kids and women. Respect your girlfriends’ bodily integrity. Don’t ever, ever ever use force or physical means to tell your girlfriend something, don’t ever create an environment where your girlfriend can’t speak or do things she wishes. IF she is having trouble with money, ask if she wants or needs help. You can only go so far but breaking her heart over piles of banknotes is simply raw hurt. Love her through the good times and the bad, through thick and thin, and show patience. Just as Han and Leia have had their arguments I’m pretty sure, remember that love is a piece of work, and should never be a cruel joke. You will be celebrated not for your hunky looks, your blue eyes, your blonde locks of hair floating about your head, or even your ethnic makeup. You will want to be remembered for your strength of character. I’m determined that you go get ‘em like Han Solo did in his story or like Luke Skywalker facing down his own father, Lord Darth Vader. If you do cross swords with your father, just remember that you must, like Luke did, feel the good in him. You will be determined to save him, but as Anakin says in his death throes in Return of the Jedi, “You already have, Luke.” Unlike the Skywalker saga, however, I hope you don’t have to carry your father’s, my lover’s body to a funeral pyre. I don’t want to see the ghost of him in the air too soon, but I want his dying words not to be just directed at you, like, “Now go my son.” Anakin had the best death words ever, but the saddest. I hope that you will unmask the good in the man who said it would be a cold day in Hell before he loves me again. There is good in him, I see it all the time, but it is mired by trouble from his own family. His blood has been tainted by desire for blood of the kind that is shed for no reason, and his heart is so almost like the Anakin Skywalker at nineteen, but unlike Anakin, this man truly does not need to be going around killing Jedi knights, killing anyone who stands in his way, taking a Sith title and tapping into dark forces. I feel like I’m fighting those dark forces, not necessarily him, every day. HE is a bit grounded at times, but when you cross sabers with him, don’t whatever you do strike him down. Do not surrender, not ever. Take down the guards, the storm troopers in your path, but your father will eventually tell you he wants to see you with his own face, cup your head in his hands and maybe he’ll tear up a bit seeing you like that. Blind people don’t always show affection the same way.

Whatever you become, I’m delighted to know which side you’ll be on. Another piece of advice you will need to survive in this world is to know your true enemies. You will need a lot of tools to equip you for life. Don’t ever address women as “bitch”, for example. The next time you do that, well I won’t ground you but I will give you a good scolding and you will get a lecture on the true definition of a bitch. That’s a female dog, not a malicious woman, and calling every woman a bitch is disrespectful, no matter if she is or isn’t. Respecting women is a big tool in your box you’ll need so you don’t get blacklisted for jobs and other things. When you get a supervisory position in your office as a man, please don’t advance on your employees because it’s unethical. Create a place where your underlings can talk about what they do, and without consequence, say no to a male underling’s advances. Treat every being on this planet, not only the women, with reverence and respect, even if you don’t think they deserve it. IF someone you feel causes drama, or you feel is draining to them, think about what you do to contribute to this.

MY son, there is one more … I can’t say too many more things I want to give you that will help you get here immediately. Come here for a few moments, if you are an angel, and speak gently to the man you want to become. Do not try and deceive anyone and don’t mask your feelings. It won’t help you in the long run. IF you ever need to cry, unlike conventional males, just do it. Go to your pillow, lock the door, and silently or whatever volume you want, just let it out. You will have friends one day who will listen without judging you as a crybaby. My dad did this to your uncles, your future uncles, and it was painful to watch.

IF you want to know who your father is, unlike my mother and me, you will know who your daddy is. He will have to visit you, and when you are being born and on your way to this world, I will make sure your father lets me hold his hand, bite a rope, whatever it takes to get you into this world. Unlike Padme Amidala, I promise you i’ll be here to raise you, not your father’s family, not even an ex. Unlike any mother, I promise you the moon, and if you feel this world is too much for you, please don’t leave it and your body behind. With your brilliant mind, perhaps you can build a rocket ship that travels light years away, and take the whole family on a million light year mission to explore new worlds like Captain Kirk. We would encounter the stars, many alien civilizations, hell we’d get lost in space. Your father and I will marvel at your work, and we’d fly to the moon and back with your help. I want him and I to step on Mars together, perhaps fly past Saturn and explore beyond Pluto. There has to be another system beyond Alpha Centauri we can explore, carve out a life for ourselves. We will be a great dynasty of sorts, and with your help, we will all soar above the sky. Your daddy is a rap god, and if luck has it, he’ll be releasing an album highlighting his hunger to succeed in all the things he wants to do. I wish for him and you to have a strong bond, not at my expense. REmember the thing about bad words directed at women? NEver ever disrespect your mother, not ever. I want your father to respect me not just because I’m a woman, or because I’m all together or anything else, but because I care deeply for him. IF you float along the tracks above our heads, just let your father know I love him. I care too much to let him fly off to the painted desert and mock me in front of a bunch of guys at a bar, calling me the same words I entrust you won’t. Son, you will have a name, and that name will reflect on your courage, heroism, and strength as well as your ability to fight. Your sister may have the same thing in her name, we’ll just have to see.

Son, if you truly want to make sure your daddy doesn’t mess up my and another woman’s life, all you need to do is go all Karate Kid on him too. One other piece of advice, if your daddy and you are crossing sabers and he’s mocking me, calling me names, all of that, turn the other cheek for me, and tell your father that in his heart of hearts, he must stay with me and go back to me and tell me he’s sorry. IF there ever was a rift between us, like Luke had with Anakin Skywalker, just stand your ground. IF Daddy says you will have to beat up girls, destroy women’s lives, that if they don’t bow down to your wishes, blah blah blah, just say it like Luke. “I will never join you.” Luke had and always has had determination. This all boils down to this. What would a good Jedi master do? You don’t have to do things like Yoda, being that there is nothing but do, not try. Grand Master Yoda had a lot of good tokens like these, but try to be as noble as Mace Windu, and as giving as Anakin Skywalker, but not as compulsive should we say. You will be a fine Paduan in the game of life, and I am delighted to write this in your honor.

With love,

Your future mother,

Beth

P.S. The force will be with you always.

Letter to My Unborn Daughter

Author’s Note: The following came as a result of a major crying spell. It’s been a week since I’ve been heartbroken over a myriad of things, but a vision of a little girl with reddish blone hair and blue eyes appeared in my mind, invading my thoughts. I thought I’d write her a letter here, and you all are welcome to join me on this journey while I’m writing this. Please read the following.

Dear unborn Daughter,

First of all, I just want to say I am the one who could become your mother. I want to welcome you to a world without certainty, without security, with a lot of bad things such as war and poverty. There are, however, a few good things in the world. You invaded my thoughts, and thinking about you just brought tears to my eyes. I could see a vision of your golden hair, and my oh my you look like your father. You have your father’s beautiful blue eyes. He can’t see that, but though I’m blind, for all I know, I have inner sight. There was a Greek blind prophet Tereisius who couldn’t see anything, just like me, but he could see the future within his mind. That’s what happened here. The prophet I speak of appears in Oedipus the King and several other things, but you won’t read those till you’re older, my daughter. IF only I could tell you what I am seeing now, but alas, you are only but a thought within. IF you come into this world, promise me this, you won’t forget me. IF they take you from me, if they tell you that Daddy was evil, which isn’t the case, if they tell you Mommy can’t and won’t be able to take care of you, again not the case, when you see my picture on the TV, don’t forget the name. Your father is a gifted rapper, and he made such beautiful beats, and he cried out through one, “I want to know what love is.” Well, I loved him. He probably didn’t love me because I mismanaged money, but he just overstepped a boundary or two, and things didn’t get the right way between us for a time. There was a time the father in your life was cold to me, but then you appeared, a thought bubble in my mind. This is why I’m writing this.

For one, I love your father. HE had the most gentle heart when I first saw him. He was very strong, is still that way and he had a daughter in his home state of Iowa. Well, you don’t realize you have a big sister there. One day when you are older and able to travel in this big world, you will meet her. You two are always on my mind, even if Daddy says it’s not right for me to think about that. We want to make you out of love, not violence, and when you only know violence, uncertainty, and misinterpreted viewpoints, that’s all you can know. It’s a thing in psychology called “learned helplessness.” I think Daddy is helpless to get out of this vicious cycle, and I just want him to get out of it, rise above this, and say he cares about me. That’s all. I could only picture your tiny voice at the door of my bedroom asking if I’m all right, the sweet innocence piercing the air.

The one thing I don’t want to have to deal with is postpartum depression, and that’s because I don’t want you to bear the sufferings I’ve endured. I want you to be a happy little lady, playing on the floor with your Legos and just imagining a world you’d like to build. Your Daddy might cry a little, he might just lose it seeing me rock you to sleep, sing to you and even when you get fussy, I won’t stop till you laugh and get quiet. IF you get colic, I’ll make sure it goes away, one way or another. Come Hell or High Water, you will have a mother, and your life will be the best it will ever be.

I will tell you, there won’t be violence in your home. I won’t let you watch Top Gun, for example, without making sure you don’t have to enact the things that Maverick sees. I don’t care if you try to watch that movie, but besides that, I will never let a guy or any being enact violence upon you. When you exit my body you will find a world where there won’t be a chance for myself even to commit abuse or violence on you. You will never know a spanking, except for birthday spankings. I will sing Happy Birthday to you, and when you turn six, for example, I will give you birthday spankings on your back, not your bottom. I’ll gently slap you six times, and give you a playful hard one to grow on. That’s all. You will not know the pain of injury due to discipline, and you will not have to spend fifteen years of your life in captivity because of some lie your parents doled to a court of law. You will be allowed to date a man, and I will be nothing but honest with you about the man’s character. My character is good, and honestly, I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, Daughter, because I want to not only have you, don’t tell Daddy about the bio clock thing, that’s a minuscule reason he’s here in the first place, but because you are someone I could tell so much to and you will become wiser than I have been. I want to undo the damage between me and your potentially awesome daddy. He will have released his rap album, and I want to see it chart. I don’t want anyone to doubt his skills, and I want him to get a good coach who can help him improve, I mean everybody needs improvement. I want to improve my singing, and when you enter the world, Daughter, I want to hear you sing. I will sing for you, and in turn, I hope you hear the golden notes of my voice and pick up what I’m singing. You will one day receive a piano in your home, and your Daddy and I will probably end up paying for lessons so you know how to make music on the piano. I took my first lessons when I was five.

Your daddy I want to say a few words about. First, I get the learned helplessness, but sometimes there is a silver lining. I want you to be that silver lining, and I’ve never seen so many opposed to your life, but when you finally enter my womb, I want to hear “Congratulations.” I want Daddy to write on social media that his queen is pregnant, and you, Daughter, will be my little princess. I want to pass by your bedroom door every night and say, “Goodnight, Princess.” Your daddy will probably cry really hard because when he looks at you, he will not see the craziness of the past week and a half from a past you will never know, but. he will see hope for a future for all of us. He will say, “Goodnight, Princess. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.” I have deeper respect for that phrase as you will never know the bite of bedbugs, if I can help it.

One thing I want to promise you is this. You will never know the biting sting of abuse. I won’t do it, Daddy won’t do it, nobody is going to do it if I have my way with it. We will protect you as best we can, given the circumstances under which you are born. When I hear you cry for the first time, trust me I might cry too. But you will enter a world of gadgets, including smartphones and tablets, and you won’t believe the apps out there that will remind me to feed you every four hours. When you turn four, I’ll start teaching you your alphabet, your name, and I will also teach you about black and gay history, and someday you will learn about Stonewall and all the rioting and the way the NYPD could have been a lot worse but the gay folks taught those NYPD people a lesson. Do not ever make people give up who they love. IF you want to, you will be able to talk to myself or Daddy. IF you are transgender, Daughter, do not be afraid. I will make sure you belong anywhere, if that means we have to move states, move countries, or god forbid take a rocket ship off to Neverland just to give you a safe place to be yourself, that’s what you will see. I will take Daddy and myself too on the rocket ship, and we will explore new worlds together, find alien civilizations, and do many things with the stars. IF we move states, it will be because the hate toward LGBTQIA+ people, particularly the T people will not persist. We will make sure you will have a place to do sports, trans or not, without some guy or doctor seeing your genitalia and I won’t let anyone touch you without consent from both of us and then, only then when you turn eighteen and get married later on. It is your body, yourself. You own your body, not anyone else. You will never have to face the choice of abortion to save your life or having to die of childbirth. I will fight for you, and even if Daddy doesn’t want to be with me or have anything to do with you, no matter what his feelings are, you will be the number one priority. IF I have to celebrate Mother’s Day without support or compassion from him or anyone else, so be it. I know that when you turn eight or so, with maturity, you will walk into my bedroom and squeal happily, “Morning, Mommy, happy Mother’s Day.” You will one day hand me a couple bouquets of flowers, all manner of flowers present, and someday your daddy will understand why you are the priority, but he will present me with a tray of cinnamon rolls, bacon, and so on but if not him, I could let my friend Barbara over and she’d be there and we’d all go out to someplace and eat. Good times is my friend Barbara’s favorite burger joint. Your daddy will never forget when I say something about the time we were in Arizona together, and his hands and hips were gently against mine. We made love for the first time, and if you wonder what making love is, I’ll explain, little one, when you are old enough to understand. But even so, I will only say, the act of making love is the best thing in the world. When his body was on top of mine, I was transported somewhere far beyond. That is all.

Daughter, your image is so palpable it is there to stay. I did say you have your father’s eyes, and I want you to have your father’s eyes, maybe the blue eyes you have will look at me once and say, “Mommy, you’re crying.” I will be happy to explain, the crying will never stop until I can find a resolution. Within myself, I don’t feel that love was kind enough but only to create you. What made you wasn’t an extraparanormal deity called Jehovah or God. It was an act between two consenting adults, Daddy and me, and we made you in good faith. He said he wanted me to get my heart checked, but because I hadn’t noticed it, maybe I should. The heart checkup could be because my own biological father, your biological grandpa, had a history of heart attacks and such. LEt me tell you a little story, maybe a big one for such a tiny thought in my mind, it may be a huge story, maybe inappropriate for children, but you are just an angel wanting to fight her way down here, so let me begin.

I was the product of a Catholic mother, but she never told me who the dad was. Later, I was adopted by a David Taurasi, who I guess didn’t want me to know who the bio dad was. David wasn’t a bad person in the beginning, but in the end, I don’t know how to feel about him. David and my mother, Patricia, got guardianship of me at seventeen years old, presumably because of blindness, but they might have abused me for years, and it wasn’t too physical but it was more mental, verbal and emotional. See, abuse is damaging to everybody, but you’re immortal and an angel, so you don’t have to worry right now about abuse or damage because of such things. So back to my story. David and Patricia never told me who bio dad was, so I thought my ex boyfriend Trenton, would be able to give me a DNA test, but alas, it would cost a lot. The Human Service office was closed and as I type this, still is because of a pandemic. You may not have a physical body, but you do need to know that pandemics can rip a body apart. I indirectly witnessed a chorus mate’s p-parents both die one at a time from this virus. I was almost attacked by that virus, but alas, got better. I had a ceremony with my ex shortly after, but honey, I think my voice sucked. DAvid and Patricia weren’t invited, trust me I won’t ever let them hear of me getting married, but Daddy and me? Well, it’s obvious he doesn’t understand I want a joyful moment in my life. I might have written something or two, but Daddy just has to work out his own inner demons, and mental illness can spring from the abuse of body or mind. It’s not something that can be changed easily without a professional.

So when you ask me, “Do I have a daddy?” You know what I’ll say? “Yes, Daughter, you do.” I will tell you his name, and you will smile and look at me in wonder. You will want to know what jobs and things he’s into. I’ll tell you, his album will give you a sense of who he is. He wants to see and feel love, so part of this composition is about that.

He does have love but for me, well, I love him, and I love him dearly. I want him to stay with me so he doesn’t have to do this to someone else. I can’t explain what happened without crying, but you are an angel and you don’t need to look too far down here to see what happened. Some things are best left unsaid. This man is a powerful advocate of the blind community, yet nobody in that community cared any for him. IF you ever pass down here, and float upon your wings, Daughter of heaven, tell your father to be that you are waiting for him. Tell him I love him, that all I want is to be loved and accepted, that he doesn’t need a deity to believe in angels. Angels exist, I believe that much, and to see you troubled by my crying and all of that troubles me too. Sit upon that man’s shoulder, give him tranquility and peace, and speak to him if he so wishes, if you so dare, whatever. Just tell him he has someone in this room, in this house, that loves him dearly and I want the pieces of my heart to be fixed. He hugged me one day, and on Sunday, we listened to a Juneteenth concert and he just picked me up off the floor with both strong arms, seasoned by years of weight training, and twirled and carried me around the room. I want him to do that to you. Daughter of Heaven, shine down on your father, tell him things will be all right. He is someone I want to be my anchor, my rock, and I want my friend and lover to love me forever until time and eternity. I promised him time and eternity, and I would be willing to forgive him if he just doesn’t mess up again. Forgiveness is not, as an ex of mine would say, a free pass to do bad things again. He isn’t my ex. Daughter, if you should so much as enter my body, enjoy your time in it. Don’t kick me excessively, but if you need to kick, fine. Just when you exit, we want to hold you and fawn over the body you have presented to us. When you blossom into a woman, Daughter of Heaven, we want you to be the best advocate for yourself, the people in your life, and the big wide world. Your father will be extremely proud of you. When you come here, whether it’s an Arizona desert or the Colorado mountains, you will be welcomed with open arms. You will be celebrated by us, the parental units, as a good option and a great achievement and a milestone long since overdue especially for this girl, who was released from guardianship just two years earlier. I am trying to pick up the pieces of freedom in my hand, but you, Daughter of Heaven, are my light and my salvation to no end. You will be the person that nobody will expect. Your name will be able to appear whenever it does, but furthermore, you will be a shining example to me and your father. We may both be blind, but we will forever be that power couple. We’re going to knock the world over, not fight with each other. As you are an angel, you might have watched the things unfold, but if you truly are an angel, not a demon, please bless my dear love with all the blessings and especially your presence. Get him out of the cycle of violence and abuse and into the house of David, king of Israel, or better yet, get him a house of peace beyond all understanding. I threw up yesterday morning, and maybe you’re waiting to grow in my womb, but if you are, great. Stay right there, and when you come into this troubled world, please let me see your light in that troubled world, and let me hold you while you feed, when you cry, and when you laugh. When you get too big to hold, feel free to play in the park, we’ll run around together, and throw a ball further than any boy. You will someday dance as you do in the Heavenly Realms you reside in, and maybe you will wear ballet slippers. Perhaps you will be a Swan Princess, and Daddy and I will enjoy the waltz as Siegfried and the Princess dance down stage, pirouette after pirouette and catch after catch, every move in grave detail described and you will come out to us in your dressing room, your ballet outfit all glitter and lace. Your pointe shoes will have been rosened but after your stellar performance, we will give you hugs every day. You will practice every day as if you want to practice, placing your slender legs on the ballet bar, stretching them out. You will have beautiful hair, I suspect you will have your father’s reddish blonde, but everybody will say, “What an angel.” When you walk into a room, or perhaps you will dance your way into the living room, your daddy will smile and say, “Ready to go to dance class already?” I will nod and we’ll watch you dance but what will surprise me is wen Daddy goes and dances with a bunch of forty something guys, Daddy ballerinas all dressed up in girlish costumes, but trust me, the dance will have a good effect on him. He would dance the waltz across the stage. When the old men are finished, all of us will clap. I can’t, however, get the Swan Lake scene out of my mind. If they choose you to be the Swan Princess, we will jump for joy. I will hope that your Siegfried the prince will have much good dancing ability and will be as strong and tall as your father. Perhaps my Siegfried does not understand that at seventeen, I will have been a caged swan. He doesn’t understand taht deep down inside, I am a princess, no, a queen. Swan queen. IF I was a free swan, I’d gather him up in my tallons and fly him off to my castle, and I am not going to be rescued.

There’s one more thing I want to say here in this letter. You are a wanted by happiness child. I also want you to know that not all men are monsters. He is not a monster, not at all. He’s just a bit off because of the violence he was subjected to. I just don’t want the cycle to continue, and I want him to see your big sister, but furthermore, I never said I hated men. I don’t hate men. I never will hate men. There is a good man behind the monster that possessed my apartment, screamed in my face, and said he wanted nothing of a love with me. Well, I am even more dedicated to making sure this doesn’t turn into any monster. He is not a monster. HE has never tormented me in my bed, but the few times he did, he said I was crazy but I don’t think he gets it. PErhaps the Prince Siegfried would think the same if the swan Princess was in a cage, her wings clipped so she could not fly. When she transforms into the human so beautiful Siegfried could kiss her, she would fly like the wind on her feet to him, but I didn’t want Daddy to see this stuff. It reminds me of Lord Farquad from Shrek, but please, don’t tell anyone his name should have been Fuckwad, but yeah, that guy wanted to lock Fiona the princess up because she transformed into an ogre at night. Guess who took her hand and loved her through that? Shrek, the ogre. Shrek and Fiona are a reason for believing in love, but yet I don’t see a real life Shrek anywhere willing to love this Queen Fiona. I will make this one thing clear. Daddy isn’t Lord Farquad, he is nothing like that. HE might even be Shrek, for all I know. Shrek said he was troubled by the way people treated him, grab your torch and pitchforks, and the Beware and wanted signs all over the place. I will tell you, Shrek was understandably angry. I mean, who wants to marry a big “stupid ugly ogre?” He even confronted Fiona about that, but Fiona learned that this man/being loved her with all his heart. Thanks to Donkey and Dragon, Lord Fuckwad did not marry Fiona for real, and when Shrek kissed her, she took his form, but furthermore, the two lovers learned that love does not have looks on its mind. Love knows no bounds, and my love for you and Daddy will always continue. Even without him around, a piece of my heart will go with him, wherever he decides. Daughter of Heaven, you will always be my daughter, you are the one I want to create and it is you who will succeed, do better at life, perhaps you will undo the damage between all the guys and me. But speak to Daddy, fly to him, and if he wakes up with tears in his eyes, if he doesn’t understand you, make him hear you. Angels are like that. I’m drained, I feel like an empty paper bag. I want to go straight back to bed, but when I wake up in the morning, you might have been there. But you invaded my thoughts, but trust me I welcome you as I will when you exit the sacred spot in my womb. I can’t wait to push you out, Daddy being kickass enough to say, “Push, push, push, that’s right my queen.” He will push my hand toward him, and I might have hormones and bite him or I might not. But when you come rolling into the world, your slimy body bathed clean and bundled in blankets and diapers, we will celebrate your arrival, champagne and all. YOu will cry like all babies, but it won’t be a scream as if to say, “I hate you. Why’d you bring me into this world?” I will connect with you and when you arrive, your whimpers will only serve to say, “Mommy, Daddy, feed me.” That’s what happens. All beings of the living sort are born hungry. I will hold you tight, and there wil be lots of cuddles, hugs, kisses and blankets and toys for you to play with. I will rock you to sleep and put you gently in a crib beside my bed. I will be awoken and will be able to nurse you to life. I will hold you tight even when you are sick, I will calm your fevers, rub your back when you are in pain, give you medication to calm you down, give you a spoonful of sugar so that the medicine isn’t so bitter. I will make sure every doctor gives you the right medication if you have maladies of any kind. When friends come to play with you, you will have many I hope, I will welcome you playing with those friends forever. YOu might lose a few in middle school, but when you reach high school, there will be a few handsome and good looking beings in your life you could end up dating and loving. I will never tell you that boys are bad. They aren’t. IF you kiss a boy, at least you will have more opportunities than I had to kiss boys. YOu will one day experience the lovemaking I mentioned earlier. I will tell you though, when you become thirteen or older, you will likely need a lesson or two on safe lovemaking and such. Someday, you will marry a great person, man or woman or nonbinary being, but whichever being marries you, that being will be proud to have you as their wife. Your sister will be flower girl, and you will have many relations and friends at the wedding. I hope you will die an old lady warm in her bed, not now, not before you are born, not before I can redeem myself.

I want to be with your daddy, but to see you in my mind was a pleasant shock. Thank you for coming to me in a crazy vision, but albeit a crying spell. IF you have to be away for a while, I’ll just say I would miss you lots. I will miss Daddy, and if he widows me too early on, you will know his name and we will lay a rose on an altar for his spirit every year. His spirit will glide its way around, perhaps he will sit by and touch my shoulder. I will love him no matter what physical state he’s in.

Goodbye, Daughter of Heaven, and be well. I hope your mission wil be a success. I love you, and I will never forget you. Psssst, I hope you look like Daddy.

Your future mother,

Beth

The Sins of Who?: Plain Communities Under the Microscope for Sexual Misconduct By Males

Dear readers,

Has anyone heard of the Amish? Okay, has anyone even seen the Amish at work? Behind the picturesque horses and buggies, the farmers working the land, there is a deep dark pit of evil and despair lurking. What is this evil we speak of? You’ll find it in a recent Peacock original docuseries called The Sins of the Amish. Now, let me just explain what the hell I’m talking about.

The Amish may seem like a hardworking people, born of service to a church or whatever, but there is rampant male entitlement, rampant sex abuse, and rampant child abuse as well. Let me summarize. In the Sins of the Amish, we meet a group of Amish women who were discounted repeatedly for filing police reports on their brothers, husbands and fathers. Here’s another thing. Forget the why’s and ways of the Amish culturally. Think about why the plain community of such is so far behind. LEt me tell you why. Take a train or time travel trip back with me to the 1800s, and look at a sexual education book. It suggests that girls be submissive unto their husbands, sound familiar? “Wives, submit to your husbands as they do unto the Lord as Christ is the head of the Church.” This was written in the book of Ephesians, but for crying out loud, this never applied to modern marriages in my humble opinion. I only feel better about this submission thing because I do it every day, not in the sense of abuse, but in the sense of I can give myself freely to my man without his judgment of me as sickening, sexually unattractive, things like that. The Amish girl who does not listen to her father and keep her brother and father standing tall is a rebel, usually put in an institution as in the nineteenth century, treated like total trash.

If you wanna see just how behind the Plain communities, which include Amish and Mennonites are, just look at the sex ed books they use. Girls are expected to marry at nineteen, sometimes younger, otherwise, like in the old days, they are considered old maids. This is not even about the card game, folks. This is the reality of unmarried Amish women.

While my sympathies are in some way with the Amish, all they care about is work, no play, and the farming communities have also been known to sell puppies illegally bred from puppy mills. Some Amish and Mennonite farmers have been themselves puppymilling around in Pennsylvania and other states where puppy mills are born. They’re everywhere, and the Amish farmers are not helping the problem.

While I was at Amish Acres, a museum and farm in Indiana, I was forbidden from using my mobility aid, a white cane, on the stairway and my parents forced me to follow the rules. I want to say to those folks in charge of Amish sites in Indiana and other places, do not even bother opening a place if you’re gonna do a big injustice toward your blind clientele. Please cater to folks with disabilities, and include the blind in your thought and planning of any touring and such. Please tell any blind person they can use the cane on stairs, on the floor, anywhere because it is required. Blind people in your facilities must also be allowed to use a guiding or service dog of any kind. Usually, guide dogs are trained in helping the blind up and down stairs, through doors, around things, all sorts of stuff awaits a guide dog handler and the dog themselves. If you’re one of those Amish or Mennonites, chances are you’re not reading this, but if you’re on the outside of such communities, know this. I have no qualms about turning the Indiana Amish in for discrimination against me and other blind tourists.

The Amish have had many sinful things done to each other and other people. I think more than the women they mistreated, and trust me that’s important too, but the dogs and the blind tourists and the wives of some if not every Amish man should know that there is a big wide world outside that protects women from these insular practices. While Carolyn Jessop was fighting for custody of eight little lives, Merrill Jessop, her good for nothing jerkish husband with a bunch of other sex toys to play with was demanding the same. Why did Carolyn win? Because she was smart, independent, sick of the sister wives being bratty with her and the kids. All but Betty ended up staying with her. Why did Flora Jessop get out of the FLDS too? Because she knew the world would protect women and such, and she had a very supportive husband and family of her husband. The other problem here is that plain communities are stuck in the past, not willing to move forward. Stuck in the past could be an understatement, but most religious groups that are not Amish or Mennonite are now going face down in piles of sex abuse scandals. There is no way that I would ever want to join a Plain community, and perhaps Weird Al wasn’t too far in making fun of the Amish. Yes, the song itself called Amish Paradise is rather comical, but the Amish and their sins are a reflection on us, the United States. What can we do to curb all the stuf going on in insular communities?

  1. First, could we revise the First Amendment to include you can have opinions, freedom of speech and the press and assembly which is safe and peaceable? Yes, peaceful assembly at all levels is great, but when the purpose of a group of folks is to do what the Heaven’s Gate nutheads did to those victims they encouraged to kill themselves, you got a problemo.
  2. Houston, if there’s a problem with a certain religious sect, one must be able to report it to a government task force set up for this purpose. While I value freedom to have and practice religions, practicing one’s religion should also mean that hateful thoughts and actions don’t mix themselves with the teachings of a deity or Jesus or Buddha or anyone else. Religions should be about freeing, not controlling mankind.
  3. If you want to see hate groups on a map, the Southern Poverty Law Center has a whole big map full of these such groups, including Neo-Viking, NeoNazi, Neo-Vulkish, and many others. In Colorado, there are a few underground hateful groups. Unfortunately, I’m sure Malcom X is rolling in his grave because the Nation of Islam is listed in Colorado as a hate group for being and speaking Antisemetic. I can’t stand antisemitism as much as the next big black guy can’t stand racism, but shouldn’t we include the Plain communities on a certain level of a hate group registry? See next item.
  4. Let’s say you’re browsing a group database thing so you can find something to be part of, you’re a new person to this country, or you’re new to the state you live in and you’ve been American all your life. LEt’s say you got swept up in a group, and you found out the group doesn’t like your gay son or your lesbian daughter or your transgender grandchild, your blind relatives, etc etc. Things like this happen a lot. So here’s the skiny. Level 1 registered hate groups should not be allowed to receive government support and funding, should be taxed for hate, and should be told how to operate safely because people can die from such groups. These level 1 groups would include terrorist orgs like the KKK, NeoNazi groups, and a lot of your white nationalist orgs as well. I’d also classify America’s alQaeda groups as level 1 and add terrorist to the label as well. This would be classified as code red level 1. All groups in this tier would get a red bar code symbol to place next to their name. So let’s see how this would work. Level 2 groups would be all of level 1’s criteria, but no violence would be pinned on it. Such groups might include, sadly but accurately, your Neo-Vulkan groups, some of your anti LGBTQI+ churches, including the Westboro Baptist Church and some of the Pentecostal churches that preach only to include cis males and cis females, think about it. These churches would also have to be taxed, and would not receive government funding or support, and did I want to say the Word of Faith Fellowship should get a level 2 on this registry? The big bad reports of abuse would go here. There have been incidences of violence and isolation of cult members, and this is a dangerous cult status group we’re talking about, but WFF really should be a place where politicians are barred from. They should not be part of this organization if they want to govern our country. WFF has been noted as abusive and not following the word in its entirety, using scripture as a means to abuse kids, all that stuff. The ax on this church will be because they won’t be able to run in a whole county in North Carolina.
  5. Continuing from the previous item, the Amish would be a special case, level 3. Level 3 groups would be the groups that have been known to be abusive, are everything but racist. The Amish don’t like disability, don’t like gays, so they’d probably fall under this category. There will be a little orange dot next to those groups. Level 2 groups, btw, would get a yellow thing next to their names because you know what yellow would mean right?
  6. There would be a green dot to the proximity of groups that do the following.
  1. Green coded groups would welcome all people in its ranks provided the criteria for joining the club can be that you may be interested in a subject, golf for example, or you have a like mind with the club’s members, ham radio for example.
  2. The clubs in the green category don’t hate people based on protected class status, including disability, sexual identity, sexual preferences, and many otyher combinations of protected class.
  3. The group would accommodate people with disabilities. All materials should be made into formats we can read, including on the Internet.
  4. Recruitment is not aggressive or some marketing tactic.
  5. No way will I join a group that lovebombs its potential recruits. Jim Jones and his people did that.
  6. Green coded groups would exhibit the ability to bring people together, get awards, and do good acts of service that can be demonstrable in getting grants. Examples, Soar Youth and Adult choir, though I can’t be part of them anymore, has a good habit of inviting all manner of person to their choir. Foster kids and others share a meal, and it’s fun. I hope that someday I will go back to Soar. They’ve been instrumental in helping me realize my dream of maybe fostering and adoption. I’m not sure about that though given discrimination against blind folks in all countries, so if I did adopt, I bet it would be domestic.
  7. Green coded groups would encourage, not discourage talking to outside folks.
  8. The group with green on it would also not exhibit scandalous activity.

These databases and ideas are not meant to necessarily impede on freedom of speech, but I want to see more protections in place for former cult victims, victims of folks like the FLDS and the Amish and such. Thank you all for reading.

Beth

Why a Waiting List for Disabled Young Adults is Sabotaging Our Human Right to Shelter

Dear readers,

I know this sounds wrong, I know this might come off to some of you as entitlement, but imagine yourself a senior 62 years or older. How many places and things do you qualify for? Now, go blind and be in your young years, like 18-60, just below the senior line. How many places do you qualify for? You’re at the bottom for consideration for marriage, social status, jobs and transportation and that’s not acceptable. I was recently attacked on Facebook for begging in some people’s minds. I was literally beyond furious with a law firm that refused to represent me, and it led to one woman calling me a narcissist. First and foremost, what is narcissism? That’s for another post for another day, but the takeaway I got from most of these vehement critics is that I was “entitled” to “special treatment.” That’s not the case, not at all.

On April 19, thereabouts, my beloved Clayton Jacobs applied to be a resident here at this building, the one on West Ninth, but was met with barriers along the way. He was met with much opposition from the staff, which included but was not limited to a print or PDF image application he could not read or even render with his Voiceover or NVDA (nonvisual desktop access) screen reader. Most of my Facebook cohorts suggested a risky venture to get that done, divulge personal information to strangers. Clayton does not like to do this, and does not trust anyone to fill out papers for him which is understandable because of his upbringing, which on no uncertain terms, nobody is familiar with. LEt me give a brief backstory, and use one sentence to describe Clayton’s upbringing. It’s only one thing: toxicity but also violence. People have done violent and toxic stuff to him in the past, same with me, so we’re demanding that the building change things so we don’t have to put ourselves at risk and divulge personal information. In an age where a credit card can be compromised on the dark web, we should be prioritizing blind people’s identities and interests, including making all housing applications usable and accessible online through PDF’s that are tagged for being filled accessibly, meaning all the form fields can be rendered so you fill them out easily with a screen reader. I saw such forms for Denver’s court system when applying for a restraining order against an online frenemy. I was scared that this frenemy was gonna put me in danger by being present in Denver, spreading rumors, threatening me and my then boyfriend and congratulating him for hurting and abusing his power as a man to be insecure, impose religious sexual restrictions, and many other things. Men who do this type of thing don’t appeal to me, and that’s a whole post for a different week.

For all I’ve been through, I want to explain the reason we’re seeking front of the line preferential treatment as it were from this building.

  1. Trenton and I split amicably, and I want to ensure that both my cell is paid off, Trenton gets a pad and the mother doesn’t make him block or report my contact information.
  2. I do not see this as any less of a case, but Clayton was gentrified out of Arizona because of high housing prices, high rent from an apartment building which is fair market no assistance, and of course he’s also blind.
  3. There is a special risk for blind females, LGBTQ males and females with disabilities, and so many other groups of people who are homeless. Homelessness is not fun, and I’m not going to allow myself to be pregnant with someone’s kid other than Clayton’s, which means anyone who tries to rape, rob, steal or mug me is going to have to head for the high jump because I’m not interested in anyone else. A women’s shelter and men’s shelters are not safe places for Clayton, myself and Trenton. Clayton’s experiences as a homeless man in California have taught him a lot, and Trenton does not even deserve to be left in the dark. I may be an ex lover of his, but for you who say I’m selfish and narcissistic, go fly somewhere else because I care about Trenton’s risk of being shot, mugged or raped. Clayton has seen it all, practically, but I don’t want him to see anything detrimental to both of us. All I see in our cards is victory, and if this building case is any example of how persecuted we are as a people who are young and blind, I don’t know what else to say. This building does not administer a waiting list properly, and it prioritizes Hispanic seniors over younger blind American adults. They Bombshelled Clayton with the 3.5 year wait list, and I won’t allow them to do this because of the print and the inaccessible parts of the common areas we discovered.

Here are the highlights:

  1. We saw inaccessible buttons in the laundry room on the washers and dryers, and a very visually based machine that tells you how much you have on your laundry card. The machine pretty much is visual, not adaptable for blind people, so if a building says they’re for seniors/disabled, they must accommodate blind people. End of story. Laundry rooms like this one require the so called assistance of a sighted caregiver, and even that is not good. Only two washers work at a time, and there are many more, but the residents seem to enjoy breaking and defiling the washers and dryers. That makes it hard for people like my caregiver April to do her job. People need to respect all property on the premises.
  2. We discovered inconsistent locker labeling, some keys weren’t also labeled, and there are a lot of things about the mailboxes I could say that wouldn’t look too good in print. They’re not labeled to put it mildly.
  3. The vending machine things aren’t labeled, and they need to be because let’s face it. Blind people see the vending machine, or they hear it if you want to be so politically correct, and the machines just have blank buttons on them, plus sometimes you don’t know if a product is sold out or the thing is empty. Shame on the building for doing this.
  4. Pertinent information such as lease agreements, papers related to important news about building stuff and the calendar must be made accessible. They aren’t. The building’s excuse? “We have to print the stuff in nine languages.” I call bullshit. I call serious bullshit because bullshit is as bullshit does, and there is technology that can enable you to change languages and scripts so easily, plus Braille is though a loud thing to print out, it is still doable with the writing programs and transcribing things like Duxbury for example. There are tons of transcription softwares available for Braille and yet nobody cares. Well, blind people need to learn Braille anyway, and deafblind people need access too. The blind and the deaf/blind need to be able to have independent lives, and the community unfortunately is responsible for this. Why? Because the sighted and able community has set up a world that doesn’t like or care about blindness or deafness or both in combination.

How do we expect to do things? Well, here’s what we are doing now.

I’m fixing to apply for more creative writing jobs, but music lessons require a Bachelor’s, which for me has been a barrier because of blindness and people’s misunderstanding of such. Blindness is a sensory disability, and let me tell you it’s been a rough road for nearly 36 years. Blindness in the skills terms is the use of nonvisual techniques to achieve the same thing as a sighted person, but the kicker is that society is sight supremacist. How is it, you ask? LEt’s take a look.

First, the minute you’re born. When Clayton and I were each born in places like Iowa and Florida, the docs told our mothers differing things, but I clearly remember my mother telling me what her OBGYN said, or was it her obstetrician? He said clearly, “She will not get a driver’s license.” That was the beginning of my mother’s furious wrath about me being blind. Clayton’s mother might have heard a similar thing, but what doctors do in the pattern of dissing disability is simple. They tell you to put the kid away in a box and forget the child, have another to replace them. This happens to a variety of kids, including blind and intellectually disabled people. 80% of Down’s Syndrome babies are aborted through the use of prenatal testing every year, and people get the wrong impressoin of disabled infants and childcare for those people. Down’s babies and children need special consideration for all kinds of aspects, but blindness being the most biblically feared makes doctors do a double take. Both mine and Clayton’s blindness conditions were from birth, but both of us got blind in different ways. My mother had Rubella syndrome, but Clayton once said something about genetics, but what are the chances of us having blind kids? We could keep going but it would lead down a strange path.

The minute you enter school, there are barriers everywhere. Clayton’s and my lives were very different, but still almost similar. My mother didn’t know how to bring up a blind female child, and she abused me because she didn’t want an illegitimate child out of wedlock. Clayton’s mom and dad had two more kids, a boy and later a girl. I had two brothers to contend with. While we both had issues with siblings, mostly because they got all the gold and attention, we had far different experiences when it came to violence and how each family unit dealt with it. While my parents kept on rewarding my brothers for hurting me, only to stop when I kept telling them it was unfair what they did for them versus me, Clayton’s parental units rewarded violence and anger out of his brother, as if to say, “Okay, go ahead and kill your brother.” It was as if the violence in his own family was a game to get rid of the most vulnerable person in the house, and for a variety of reasons, the brother went on to become a criminal in a prison system. Clayton lives now with all the anger and hurt inside, and it comes out sometimes, but it’s not necessarily his fault. I try to be there, but it’s tough sometimes. I love him so much, and I see good in him a lot, that good being the tender way he embraces me, kisses, and whatever else he does. I won’t go into it here.

AS for both our educations, they were hampered by teachers. My teacher of the visually impaired, while I had a long relationship with her, was stupid enough to tell strangers about my love life. Clayton had a variety of personalities and TVI’s to work with. There is a TVI shortage, so if anyone wants to be one, just learn Braille and cane skills too, and close your eyes and try to live as we do every day. I had good cane instructors, but I was experiencing a lot of emotional abuse at home. Clayton’s abuse might have looked a bit or a lot worse, but abuse is abuse no matter what the cause. Most disabled children experience one or more forms of abuse, especially female children around the world. Disabled females seem to be undesired all over the globe, especially in the third world, but it doesn’t get much better in the United States and first world countries. For instance, the Braille literacy rate among blind people is now 7%, according to some new study Clayton pulled out. Not shocking, it was 10% in my youth. 7 is unacceptable, only 3 out of 10 blind children are taught Braille by a properly certified TVI, teacher of the visually impaired. Clayton and I are the lucky few blind adults who read Braille, which was invented by a twelve-year-old French boy in a blindness school, but was vehemently opposed by his French school directors for the reason that the directors wanted the students at that school to be so heavily dependent on them. Sight supremacy at its finest occurred in this school back in the day. We would visit French monuments, including the blind school in France, where Braille was invented, but what I want to really do is visit Notre Dame, listen to the sounds of a pipe organ, hear the bells peeling the vespers and evening mass or something, but that doesn’t mean I’m discounting blind schools. They might have restrictions on visitors. Foreign visitors might be intimidating, but if I spoke French, I might have the ability to persuade the heads up that I can visit the spot and learn about the history of braille. Louis Braille invented this writing system, yet only 7% of the blind read it all the time.

When you leave school, you get seriously destroyed in college. Both Clayton and myself are college dropouts, neither of us has a Bachelor’s, but I have an Associates of Arts degree, which Clayton said was more than he could get. That AA is going to serve me in some areas, but Bachelor’s degrees are required for so many things. I can’t get the Bachelor’s however because of general education requirements that may have visual things to fix. In Clayton’s case, community college and universities refused him, didn’t accommodate, or flat out violated his right to get the degree of choice, and left him with so much debt. I won’t go into detail here, but for me, that debt was there nonetheless, but debt collectors met me on the phone and said to me to pay up, but I said, I don’t have any resources and won’t enrich those who threaten or harass other people for a living. I ended blocking university style debt collections agencies instead of answering the phone anymore. Clayton was still required to pay back his debt, which is hampering him from doing other things he wants to do with his life, things like provide for his partners or buy a home for himself and anyone else who cares to say they love and appreciate him. I do, of course. I have possibly got a credit freeze, and this is because of my parents or someone hiding information about me from credit bureaus. I don’t know if this is sert in stone but that’s one possible reason I can’t use credit apps and such, can’t get a credit score in Braille because I have zero. At least I don’t use credit careds, but I need to be able to build credit. Most disabled teenagers and adults don’t even know the first thing about finance or credit, and most apartments are requiring credit checks and so on. This makes it an affront to blind and disabled young adults. We need shelter, and without credit checks, we’d be better off.

Now, when you marry, you lose benefits. Blind people should not lose anything for loving another, and to love another is the greatest feeling in the world. Clayton’s marriages ended but the takeaway is that divorces are not pretty, benefits and SSI is cut, and the women he married expected him to get a job, any job. For me, the man has to do honest work, legitimate work at home jobs included. Clayton has had some work experience, has an excellent work ethic, and gets stuff done. He recently laid out a beat for a song he composed, and he’s bound to get an album full of songs done under his stage name, esoteric Quality. I love his music, and some of you may say nay to his stuff, but his stuff speaks truths no rapper dares venture into. NOt even Dr. Dre or Snoop Dogg gets into things like blindness and the struggles of a disabled or blind man. I do want to confess his latest track, Conniving Mastermind, is a gem. When thousands of years pass, and both clay and myself are dead and buried, I want that track to be considered a classic alongside Tupak and Biggie and all the other rappers who are either dead or gone in a time gone by. Rap and hip hop is one way Clayton has found helps with his coping skills, and I’m proud of him for writing the lyrics he does, but here’s the kicker. Both of us have similar experiences with psych wards and psychological care. What some people don’t understand is that rap and hip hop artists are not psychologically unstable people. Tupak was a great rapper, so was DMX, so was the Notorious B.I.G. Esoteric Quality will go down in history as someone who’s trying to wake up the world with his music, and I love what he’s doing because having your independence or writing rap lyrics are no justification to put someone in psychological confinement, and that’s what happened to each of us. I want to say the therapists at Wuesthoff Hospital in Melbourne, Florida should have taken a closer look at the guardianship and realized my parents were abusing me with it. Clayton got his wish from what I can see about his rap lyrics, but not without a school reprimand which was unreasonable and so on. I also wasn’t allowed to socialize with my class on a Disney or Universal Studios theme park trip. Clayton got no walk across the stage at high school graduation. It always saddens me when I try to think of what our children’s future will be, Clayton having to tell this part of the story. Some disabled people don’t even get to walk because they are on special diploma and have bad grades. Exceptional education students oftentimes have to stay till they turn 21, colleges refusing to accept them.

Some kids get married out of high school, and others college. When a blind person tries to start life out, housing is difficult to find, wait lists abound, and we have no choice but to live with Mommy and Daddy, but in our case, we fully refuse to do so because of abuses. Clayton’s and my parental units do not deserve access to their grandchildren from us, which we agreed on, and my parents don’t deserve a daughter if they can’t treat my rights and my finances and yes, my person, with respect. They did none of that. Allowing a violent sibling to rape, rob and abuse the blind person is not being nice and not contributing positively to that person’s upbringing. Moving on.

While seniors can apply for untold numbers of services, blind adults are left isolated and alone, some committing serious suicide, some crimes. It has become apparent that the National Federation of the Blind is untrustworthy because of sexual abuse scandals that rocked the organization’s training centers. It is not safe for anyone to attend Ruston, Littleton’s or Minneapolis’s training centers because the staff and students need to relearn boundaries and proper relating to each other. End of story.

As for the entitlement, we’ve fought all our lives for existence. I have to fight for existence that is more peaceful, including the right to vote, marry and love the man or woman I deserve and the right to be respected. I have a right to being included in all decisions pertaining to myself, including about where I live, in whom I should trust and with whom I have intimacy. End of discussion. My rights are mine, not up for debate. Entitlement is a dangerous thing to think about disabled people. With the rampant abuse of disabled males and females, there are other people to consider.

First off, I want to consider what happens in disaster circumstances like the pandemic. Clayton and I need to be given material that helps us foster our independence, not forces us out of activities and isolates us. I was forced out of DWC and Soar because of rides and illegitimacy of any request for such. Soar wanted $5 of my wallet, but that ain’t happening. It’s not contributive to my survival at this point, and it’s not contributing to my self care. I’ll do a post on self care and what that means later.

For jobs, I want to tell you I applied for two jobs, and I’m applying for more, but they’re in creative writing. I might be a ghost writer for some random company. I don’t quite know, but it’s a romance sample they want, and that’s what they’ll get.

However, the process by which most applications work is sickening to say it mildly. Clayton can’t readily apply to just any job because it has to match skills and requirements, some including that you need a driver’s license. Even if the job doesn’t need driving, this piece is designed to wipe out disabled applicants for such. This must stop.

If no one is willing to hire blind people, that is why the so called entitlement should exist, and should be considered more than that of seniors and sighted supremacists. In fact, a white supremacist who shot up a supermarket was glorified by not only the fact that someone liked his manifesto, but that someone had the guts to say he was mentally ill, but I’ll give Jason Black credit for saying he knew what he was doing. He’s right. Sight supremacy is dangerous, and this housing crisis spells out why.

So we filed complaints with HUD and the CCRD, Colorado Civil Rights Division, and we got almost a slow as sugar molasses response from different people, but we’re chugging along.

Thank you guys for reading, and please feel free to engage in the comments.

Beth

Tribute to Ray Khan

Author’s Note: The following contains some references to drugs and rehab, mental health issues, sometimes even guardianship abuse. Reader discretion is advised. Also, this is a sort of tributary note to Raymond Khan, a young man I knew from way back in 2006, both of us were jailed, sort of, in rehab. LaAmistad should be ashamed of itself for its ableist and controlling approach to rehabilitating substance and non substance use peoples with mental illness. You put up a big fight with me about relationships, and I need to be able to forge connections, not forget them. I want to say a few words I should’ve said to Ray, and I want him to know that things are going good, but without further adieu, here it is.

Dear Ray,

Things have been crazy since you last saw me. I think about you sometimes, although the times I thought of you were very hard ones. When I thought of how you almost lost yourself to crystal meth, how you almost killed yourself a few times, maybe more, my heart went and stopped in the middle of everything. Ray, you really are someone I cared about in 2006, and yet a piece of you stays with me every day. I have at least a few things on my mind I wanted to straighten up with you.

First, I should have never been forced to end relationships and not forge a connection with you. I loved you, and what any nurse or doctor should know is that forging connections helps and stabilizes an individual’s treatment by a long shot. Undoing all the person’s health and well being by disconnecting them from everybody in the world doesn’t help. Ray, I loved you dearly, but I tell you, I have a partner and a good life ahead of me. The guardianship’s been discharged, and you can tell everybody that you and I could have been freed from this had Florida not fucked up and gotten me in trouble at seventeen, and nobody believed that my mother was capable of slapping me in the face. I would love to charge my mom with assault if she ever pulls shit like this again, but no, I won’t. Why? Because there’s. more stuff she did that I could tell you and you wouldn’t believe me anyway.

The guardianship was abusive, I had to stay in loveless or unromantic relationships because of the possibility of being abused at home. Orien, a young man I knew in high school and who’s grown now, will not have anything to do with me. Trust me, not that way. We’re friends again on FB, but trust me on this, my parents deserve a lawsuit and jailtime for committing probate fraud. I didn’t even know what the fuck probate was, and trust me, you would think I was nuts if I told you. Guardianship is evil, it destroys families, it tears apart lives. It did so to me, and did you hear about Britney Spears? She’s out of Conservatorship.

Ray, I hope you are there somewhere in the ashes of my existence, dancing on a cloud, or perhaps you’re alive on Earth somewhere far beyond. Canada? Maybe. But have you watched what’s going on in America lately? Please tell me you’re not cooped up in some prison cell lamenting on drugs, being on drugs, etc. I wanted you to be strong and try and be someone that you can be, the best version of yourself. I cried today thinking of the stuff I should have said to you, but it got worse. When we were in the so called catapult ceremony, the one where we pass the coin and say our goodbyes to the people leaving the treatment center, I was a wreck. You remember right? I told you I’d be the lead actress in your movies, whatever they were to be. Ray, I tell you, I felt the whole time that I was not the lead actress in my own story, not until recently. Ray, if I could only tell you that Clayton Jacobs, the man I call my boyfriend, is the best supporting actor in my story. HE gets the Oscar nod and perhaps he wins Best Supporting Actor in. my personal story. Why? Because Clayton heard your name and your story from my lips, and he understands greatly. Clayton has held me while I cried, kissed me when I was sad or happy, and has made love to me through all kinds of stuff. We’d always had each other’s backs, even through some rough stuff we both had to deal with. Ray, we’re coming up on some currents in our lives, Clayton and myself, and trust me, I am always the lead actress in my personal story now. I changed my bank account, I changed my direct deposit amounts and info on it, and my dad will soon have to close the account. I’m not going to have him sit there and say he can have his name on my account, which he will no longer do. My mother and dad think they can tell me who to be with, but because the guardianship was abusive, I had it discharged. My parents woke up only halfway. They won’t define the guardianship as abusive, wrong, and fraudulent. Probate fraud should and will always be one day against the law, but I want guardianship to be a federal goddamn crime. Why? Because it tears apart families, rips people’s lives to shreds, and for disabled women, sometimes we have to sterilize because in the minds of the government, we are less than, inferior. Ray, I’m sorry to say you weren’t the love of my life, and I didn’t exactly get the chance to give you the flower of my virginity. I don’t care. What virginity?

It started with a Dallas, Texas convention I was coerced into attending by the center in Littleton, Colorado Center for the Blind, and they required everybody to fly to Texas for this stupid conference while you had National Federation of the Blind (NFB) people sitting there praising the god of their own, Kenneth Jernigan. It was a motley crew of idolatry, sexual misconduct, and more. I lost my virginity to Deq Ahmed and Mosamil Yahya or someone like that, but we’ve had to mull over such things. Clayton would never have cared, at least, that I had to break it off with Deq Ahmed because his clan and family didn’t approve of him marrying a blind American woman. I would have argued that the clan had no right to Deq because of blindness and because such honor is antique. No, the word here is antiquated. I would suggest at a clan meeting that we move forward and modernize and recognize the right to choose one’s own mate. Period, point blank, end of story!

Ray, when I was with a man named Jason, the whole time things just didn’t work. Jason was abusive, and he was pro on the case of my guardianship, he wanted to say I needed it. What a very inglorious bastard. He liked the reactions of folks when he said, “You’ve signed your death warrant for being friends with Beth Taurasi.” I call bullshit. Death warrants are for murderers, Aileen Wuornos included, or perhaps Ted Bundy. But not me, I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t do it, and if I did, it was an accident. I have no capacity to see where I’m aiming that stupid gun, and where I’m going to aim it is anyone’s guess. Jason had almost killed my friend Trenton’s current girlfriend, and furthermore, Jason wishes all his exes dead. Oh wait, Jennifer died. I can’t believe she did, and that bastard wants me to forgive him? I can’t forgive myself for even loving the guy. But thinking back, Jason was a big turning point into why I hate almost 80% of guys, not all guys, but I kinda don’t like a lot of them. IF a guy suggests that a woman’s place is beneath him, where she submits, etc, he isn’t for me.

When I dated Blake, things got hairy. His mom said I was “psycho” and should not date Blake. Blake lost his brother to gun violence, of course, but I’m not a fan of the woman who did it, although in some ways gun control might have stopped the murderer from ending the brother’s life, and the mother blames me? She didn’t have to blame me, she didn’t have to justify Clara Deitz dating Blake for the short time she did, and the impression was fake. All of it, fake. Clara should not have broken Blake’s heart in front of the world, and she did. Blake I wish as punishment should “take a wife of whoredom” as in the Bible, Gomer was a whore who went with Hosea, her husband, even when she was being bargained for and such. Hosea brought her back, but they had two kids together, I forget the names. But if Blake wants to try and mess my life up he can’t. Our friendship is rocky because of his mother’s prejudice against psychological diagnostics, and she doesn’t realize I have PTSD. Not quite as bad as a guy Blake knows, but not as bad as my cousin, Robert Zemcik, a veteran in the army who’s survived many many occasions I can’t go into. Zemcik’s experiences in the army should not be forgotten, and neither should those of other vets, Afghanistan and Iraq war vets included. I donated money to the wounded Warrior Project years after Blake’s breakup, but alas, I don’t know where it all went.

Trenton is my current latest ex, after Joey who was a bad boy. Joey tried to mess with me, tried to egg me on, and a troll tried to fuck with me while I was just getting started with Trenton. I was frequently accused of whoring around, told to get a proper marriage, all that. But now, Clayton is probably the only man I could say is doing it right. I can’t believe he would know me for five years, would let me into his life, would hold me the way he did, and would make love to me the way he did. Ray, if you only saw my face when I found Clay at the airport, I was overjoyed. He was sitting there waiting for me, and I ran forward to give him a big giant hug. I wanted to love him right there. We got back to his place, and lo and behold, his hips got close to mine, and his face. Oh, his beautiful face. Ray, Clayton can’t see as I don’t, but trust me on this, he is a good man. Clayton treats me like a beautiful queen, honors me the way men should honor the women in their lives, and in turn, I want to do nothing more than honor him. Like in Gladiator, I will honor Clayton, and because he’s honored me, I will do what is right. I’m behind him 100% of the time, and trust me, he is for me as well. Ray, if you only knew.

IF you only knew the way things were back in the day. I still can’t get a job, can’t do things without verification, oh so they wanna believe I’m not who I say I am? Bullshit. I am Beth, the girl you once knew, and I hope you will always remember me. I hope you will remember me, and it is because I remember you that I can’t forget. I can’t forget the time we were walking around, and we kissed somewhere outside of staff eyes. All this and other bullshit, I just wanted to kiss you again. YOu really do have a lot to offer someone, and I hope you found a beautiful pair of lips to kiss, arms that will hold you, and a pair of eyes to stare into. My eyes, god forsake me, are blind. You never understood. You never wanted these eyes. These eyes cried for you, and my heart beats every day regretfully for all the times you had to stay ten feet away. I’m done, I’m done trying to cry over this spilled milk. I love you dearly. I don’t know what to say. But Clayton is my true love, not you, because you don’t seem to get it. Ray, my pain is great, but my heart soldiered on for years knowing you were out there somewhere.

Ray, if there’s one thing I should have said to you, it was this. Clayton is the right man for this undertaking of loving me because he’s blind, has the same eye condition, and we’re on the run with all the love we have in our hearts. We love one another with such passion it isn’t funny. Ray, contact me if you dare. If you read this, you will be rewarded for your trouble. The water of time may stand between us, but for Clayton, he has ferried himself over the waters of space to me, and has offered me his heart. Ray, this truly isn’t goodbye, not forever. It is a new beginning. Perhaps you will understand if you see this blog and understand what kind of person I am.

Sincerely,

Beth Taurasi

MY New Life

Dear readers,

I’d like to come forth and tell you all that Trenton, while we’ve split amicably, is still my friend and perhaps he could be a great roommate. Clayton, on the other hand, wants to be my partner, so yeah, I am letting him do this. I will be Clayton’s lover, partner, friend, and loyal supporter. Clayton Jacobs has done something else as well, he’s confessed he loved me, wants to stand by and let me be me. HE looks and acts like the stuff of dreams: he’s sweet, funny, brave, strong, true, loyal, fun to be around, and some aspects of him require a good sense of humor. Clayton is also a very handsome guy, some of my fans here have noticed that Clayton is a handsome guy. Five feet ten inches, very sleek, reddish blonde hair thicker than normal for a typical white guy but that’s great actually, beautiful blue eyes, a big smile every time I notice him and I did so at the airport. His face is beautiful, I’ve even touched it, it’s just pretty awesome looking. His nose is bigger and more prominent than mine, but oh well. Mine is a bit short, but he has this long narrow nose and he has a lovely sense of who he is, and he’s very grounded with what he wants to do.

For those of you wondering, no, I’m not kicking Trenton to the curb the way others do. I’m advocating for Trenton and I to continue being friends, continue being roommates if possible here, but here’s the kicker: Clayton and I want to continue being partnered with each other and stay for life. I just hope this doesn’t break, and moreover, I want Clayton to be my protector, lover, and friend for life. We both want the same things, we both have the mindset to get this done, and he is sweeter than candy. I’ll never forget the night I came home with him from Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport to the town or city of Mesa, Arizona, and we noticed each other. Should I say? Well, his hips are very strong, his whole body close to mine was like being placed in a rocket ship, about to launch into outer space, or deep space perhaps. When we first kissed, held each other, made love with one another, we were soaring high above what was possible for me, especially me, at this time. His life is my life, we are the reflections of each other, but for me, he is the strength I need to get going in life. MY parents certainly don’t need to know what is going on between myself and Clayton, and we’re going to rock this life together like nobody else.

The one thing I want us both to do is heal from whatever traumas but especially for Clayton, I want him to know that there is nothing more awesome than the good things about him. HE has had a toxic and rather violent upbringing, which could have translated to something worse for both of us, I won’t go into details. Most kids from violent homes become violent adults, but not this guy. HE at least has the determination to heal and become someone worth the time of others, to become a strong and best version of himself. I’m proud of him and I’m also proud to say he’s moving to Denver, will obtain a counselor for solo therapy, and eventually we’ll do couples counseling so that we can navigate each other’s particular lives together, heal together, and become stronger and better and break this cycle. I do not under any circumstances want a father, I said, I wanted a guy who would treat me with love and kindness. Clayton is kind, sweet, intelligent, smart, a bit sassy or should I say rebellious? He’s a rebel in all senses of the word, but the best thing about him is he’s willing to admit his faults, and together, we will rise. You know what I mean when I say we will rise? We will, indeed and forever, rise.

I want to let you guys know how we all got started. I can vaguely remember five years ago and I’ve told this story before, but if you haven’t checked out his Twitter space, you don’t know the story. First, I wrote something on Facebook about girls being labeled bossy and boys being labeled leaders, etc etc. Clay supported me all the way, and even if we had fights and differences, he always seemed to come right back around and touch my heart. Five years later, well, it all began with a breakup on his end. He broke up with a prior partner, and this partner wasn’t very close to him in the end because the guy was apathetic toward him. I won’t write down this guy’s name out of respect, but Clayton carried on. I said to him one day I’d give him a lot of affection, love, and all the stuff and what have you he wanted. On Clayton’s twitter space last night, he was all, “I saw her and it was like Bam, she’s the one.” Clayton and I are excited to begin this long and eventually prosperous journey, and I’m excited too because now, I get to kiss the love of my life at New Year’s Eve parties, I get to make love to a guy who has never tried to throw me out, and he understands how the abuse has affected me as well. NOt his, but my own. I have had unhealed relationship traumas because of past boyfriends who were just plain stupid, either they were stupid or unwilling to give themselves to me the way Clayton has done so lovingly. HE has the love in his heart to do things, and he has taken steps to make sure we can have a life together. Clayton and I are very close to being together at last, forever perhaps. I don’t know if there is such thing as till death do we part though, because marriage is fleeting so much so in my opinion, Trenton and I at least did not have a full legal wedding. I was never Mrs. Trenton Matthews, so to be honored with a name like Mrs. Clayton Jacobs, this is a big huge step. I don’t want to jump the gun on Clayton, but he did say he’d marry me, and it was only a matter of when. I’m excited but I’m not gonna reveal any more detail about any such things, not yet.

What I do know is that taking his name would be a big honor, and it would be a bigger honor to carry the little lives that he and I create. It does take two to tango. Furthermore, Clayton has the best personality that matches mine. I am a bit scared of posting this because I don’t know what he’ll think when he sees this. I’ve had people tell me that I shouldn’t be with Clayton, or should be exclusive to Trenton. I was tempted to close the door too, after a young lady from Georgia suggested that mine and Clayton’s relationship should fail. Well, she’s gone from my pages, gone from my phone, I can’t stand this woman anymore.

As for the unhealed relationship trauma, Clayton is one who wants to help me overcome and conquer all the traumatic stuff from Jason, Blake, and Joey. Unlike Jason, Blake and Joey, Trenton is not leaving my side yet. He’s never going to, even when I give birth to child number 1 or 2. Who knows. I don’t want to have more than 2 unless I have money to handle it all. Clayton wants to invest and work and all of that. I can’t wait to start my life with Clayton, and he can’t wait to do this either. We’re going to be a great team, and Clayton is going to be the best teammate and lover and friend I could ever ask for. HE is though wilder than the roses on the prairie in Iowa, he has the gentlest aura and most awesome way of saying I love you in so many different ways. We’re not exactly lost on the Southwest United States and the best cuisine is here in Arizona or colorado. I am sitting in my apartment in Colorado, and Clayton has the best outlook on moving to Denver, he’s going to hang with me and we’ll just have so much fun together. He’s been a tower of strength, an anchor even when Trenton and I were having arguments, fights, and the like. I didn’t want to reveal things because Trenton and I truthfully have a good friendship. We will not stop being friends, but Mom doesn’t think we should even have anything to do with each other. What does she know, however? Guardianizing Trenton was definitely not smart, and he is not a guardianized man, he’s free to make decisions, and Mom should realize that. I have a few things to say now.

Clayton, my beloved one, you are the best thing that’s ever happened, and I wasn’t expecting you to be so up front with me. You’ve been the best I’ve ever seen, heard, tasted, all of that. IF I had written a juicy romance novel earlier, I would have made you my main character. Perhaps I could, but I’m not a reader of romance. However, you are the sower of my plants, the tender of my garden, and many wild roses shall I bring forth to you, many more I will plant too. You and I will blossom into something special, beautiful, and truie. I love you.

Beth

Love Letter to a Loyal Friend, and a Deep Apology

Author’s Note: it was two or three years ago, on March 13, 2019, a day I don’t even want to remember, but it was this long ago, and I was a rotten hot mess at that time, we had a blizzard. We had a huge bomb cyclone, and I remember someone with the pseudonym DJ Hey calling me up and almost, I mean almost, stealing my beloved Clayton away from me and he himself thought I was not worth speaking with. Months later, I got this admission that he had been reading my blog, which I thanked him for, and he said he had missed me. Who knew that we’d be going from almost just friends to something more? Who knew I’d be meeting him soon? Who knew! So today, I’m going to write what I want to for him, I’m going to write him a love note today. Yes, this is unexpected but sort of a shock to me that I could compose a love note at all. For a long time, I was accused of flowery words and such but this time, this is how I am feeling. This is probably going to be the best piece of prose I could possibly write. I hope you readers will understand but this is a note dedicated to my most beloved fan, and I hope you the fan who reads this will be cool enough to respond or something. I love my readers and fans, and hope you will enjoy this little bit of my feelings. Also, I want to thank my guardian angel, whatever and wherever she is, for saving this friendship turned love. Thank you.

Dearly beloved Clayton,

My love runs deep as I type this. I have up to this point never said anything horrific or cruel or even awful about you. I wouldn’t dare. Even when I said those things on April 6, 2019, that was not intended to hurt. Not to much at least. I’m still kinda upset at DJ Hey for being the kind of arrogant person she had been, not realizing how much her words hurt. I don’t want to ever see you hurt, cry, or even frown at anything that happens in your life, and you’ve done this so many times. People have refused to help you, and that hurts me too. People might have tried to kill you, and honestly, if you ever died, I would rather take your place. I’d give my whole life for you, maybe I would lie for you. Well, as long as the lies are little white lies, nothing too serious of course. I’d do anything for you, walk a thousand miles in my shoes, your shoes rather. I’d rather have been the kind of gal who walks all the way to you because it would show my dedication, and I am thoroughly dedicated. I believe in you, and as I type this, just as so happened those years ago, tears fill my eyes thinking about how much we really truly needed each other. I love you so deeply, and I enjoy our deep conversations, I want that affection too. What else can I say! You really have made every day special, and your light shines brighter than any other. Trenton is my sunlight, but you are the stars in the sky I can’t even count. Your lights are so bright but it complements everything nicely. I love how you pointed things out, but truthfully, I want to apologize if I ever ever hurt you in any way. You are someone who is very gentle, sweet, strong, transparent, honest, friendly, did I mention you are very powerful? Strong would be the word. I love you so much I could devour every part of you in the most loving way imaginable. Well, don’t think I’m a vampire who sucks blood till you’re dead. That’s not me. *laughs*

Clayton, I was looking forward to all this good in my life those years ago, but I want to make an open public apology here because you never did deserve the hurt and the words I said about the actress, the actor, and all the things I could’ve done. I could’ve easily thrown you out but you came back, and I heard a wise old woman once say, “if you love something or someone, set them free. If they’re meant for you, they’ll come back.” My love, you came back. You really have, and I want to treat you like the king you are. Darling, I’m sorry you ever endured a few hangups from me, maybe you understood me better than anyone. But I want you to understand I will never hurt you, and if I did, I’m sorry I ever did. It is with my heartfelt gratitude that I say this because I’m deeply ingratiated by your presence. You are a sweet and loving guy, strong as nails, tougher than nails, and I know you got this in the bag. But all I really want to do is love you the way I love Trenton, and many others I’ve loved, but for you, you have something that you will someday have. You will have a gift and that is me. Okay, maybe not all of me, but you’ll have all of me in the end. I want to give myself to you and if I love you too hard, please I’m also sorry I did that or do that. You are the most beautiful wild flower in the entire world, something wilder than a rose. I did mention that. I love you to the moon and back, King, and I will never stop loving you till the day my heart stops beating. You have given me so much and I don’t want to waste it. You have taught me something, and I look forward to the day when I am standing taller than anyone you and I both know. I love you too much to ever hurt you, and I promise if anyone else tries, they won’t get far. It’s hard to be mad at you, as you know full well, because you give me the kind of life that I deserve. You gave me the strength to think about doing things I should have done a long time ago. I want to one day not have to have a caregiver around for too many things, I would not have the luxury of this. I want to have a life where I do get out and do plenty of walking and running and god forbid, a bit of jogging. Maybe I should live near a convenience store, a grocery store, who cares. I’d try walking in my area, but I hate this area and it scares me a little. Maybe a lot. I hate my laundry room, there were some creepy people in there, so yeah. IF anything, you have inspired me to do better with life itself, and I will carry it with me everywhere.

Thank you so much for being as awesome and as true as you have been. If anything at all, I apologize deeply for anything that may have offended you. I don’t want to offend you in any way even by writing this. I hope and look forward to the release of your album and future projects, and I can’t wait to work closely with you on those. Beloved king, you will soon have a queen. I will never stop thinking about how lovely you are, but let’s just say you are the best friend and perhaps more than that, I can’t say right now. I love you forever and always.

Love always,

Beth

Your queen

An Open Letter

Author’s Note: The following contains some if few or some more spoilers for the Handmaid’s Tale, any season applies. This also contains some sensitive information and I hope you will read carefully.

Dear Jorge,

I’m writing this letter to you as a matter of principle. You said some pretty hurtful things about my beloved Clayton, for whom my life is going to probably revolve, I don’t quite know. Clayton has treated me with nothing but loyalty and respect, but you think you can tell me he’s the fool. Here are a few things that made me cringe when I saw your last messages to me.

  1. This is the big thing. You said Clayton gets off on the handmaid hierarchy thing, as though I am not Beth, but ofClayton. That is not true. He does not roll with commander types such as Jason or Wes or anyone else who would reportedly want to hurt me and Clayton altogether. Clayton has been nothing but a friend and a genuine caring person toward me, no hierarchy has been seen in this. What’s weird is that he caught me red handed watching the show, the handmaid’s Tale to be exact, and he asked me why I watch such things. He pointed to my own mental health, I just have to say this. It’s a warning, it’s a foreshadowing of what could be to come if we all don’t stand up and shout back at the commander types, the white supremacists, and the fools who don’t see the truth in all this. I watched a documentary about Atwood, Margaret Atwood, the book’s author, and she did lots of homework before she wrote the first words in the book. As any author should do the same. IF it weren’t for folks like Atwood, I don’t know where we’d be.
  2. You say that Clayton is a fool, but he said you were the fool. You dudes better stay away from each other, I guess. My brothers would have killed each other in their bunks, but this kind of fighting is worse. I don’t like a lot of conflict.
  3. You say I’ll have a right to die on a hill. Well, at least my name is my name, my body is mine, and if I give this thing a name, the name is assigned at birth and such. My name is Elizabeth Ann Taurasi, it will never become Mrs. Steven Rudy, get the song reference.
  4. You ditched my commitment ceremony with Trenton, which makes me so sick. Why you did this, I’ll never fucking understand. Don’t ditch your friends when you say you’re gonna do something for them.
  5. You really need to give the Handmaid hierarchy a damn rest, fool. You really don’t get what these women will represent in a future life and Clayton knows this gets me riled up more than anything, he deeply caring about my mental health doesn’t bother me.
  6. You also tried to not understand me because of my mental health, and you blamed me for any breakups that could occur. You broke code with me when you were all, I’d rather be single than deal with someone who yells. Bullshit, if I don’t scream at a guy who wants to throw his dick in the wrong direction, I have every right to. I don’t want to have any pain while doing such things, so if a supremacist of any kind comes knocking, I’ll just throw him out the door with a few things. I would force all the white supremacists who want to egg themselves on to parade outside naked, and I’d write their crimes on their chests even with the hair hiding some of it, just wait till I get my hands on tattooing equipment. I should laugh sarcastically because these people don’t think we’re people, and that includes myself, Clayton,and Trenton, my beloved partner.
  7. You disgrace humanity with a belief that I am being used. It is my right to be either a sex object or not a sex object, and I’m not a sex object. From what I understand, sex objects can be found in the fictionalized hamlet of Fat Lip, Arizona, blame that on Blake. Fat Lip is a place where you get a big fat swollen lip, probably where you were punched in the face because you violated some rule or something. In other words, don’t mess with me or you’ll take that trip to Fat Lip, Arizona, and you’ll have lips the size of Hollywood girls’ lips and you’ll also have some chapping and maybe a few drops of Jupiter running down your shirt. Just don’t accuse my beloveds of using me, and no, Trenton and Clayton would not dare mistreat me.

If you want me back, here’s what you do:

  1. Worship me as your queen. Duh. Well, okay, not that extreme. But you must put a picture of me in your mind, in your living room, and remember that when you fool around, I’m watching. I’m so watching you.
  2. Bow to Clayton when you see him and say to him, “I’m sorry I’ve been the fool. I’m the dumbass who decided to accuse you of using the Queen as a maid.” Perhaps he will tell you that you’ve been foolish, you’ve been stupid, or both.
  3. Stop making me look bad and get the fuck off of other people’s pages who dislike or hate myself, Trenton, or Clayton. We are done with all the foolishness, and I don’t want my vacations and other things ruined. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Beth

Alternative Jobs for the My Pillow Guy

Dear readers,

Ever wonder if you’ll be happy with MyPillow Guy and his stupid infomercials? ARe you tired of his raving mad conspiracy crap? Well, I kinda thought about this and want alternative jobs for this dude. Here they are:

1. It started with a joke. My partner has a habit of stealing my actual bed pillow at night. So I humorously said, “If I catch you stealing my bed pillow, you will have to put the MyPillowGuy up for $5.” In other words, the first alternative job for the MyPillow guy would probably be a male sex worker. Simple, right? Well, at least he’d be shipped off to a different spot on the map and wouldn’t do anything there but hang around the red flag districts in a place like Amsterdam and go to strip clubs where women frequent. He’d have fun giving lap dances to ordinary gals, but as a sex worker, he’d be like, oh, okay. He’d go for whatever price he could put on his own self, and he’d be contributing to Europe’s economy, some other place’s economy and not selling fake pillows.

2. Well, if this guy didn’t like the shipping out thing, maybe he should try male private freelance stripper. He’d be able to entertain the top elites in their hotel rooms, go to strip clubs, bling himself out, and maybe not sell fake pillows.

3. If MyPillowGuy doesn’t like stripping or sex work, maybe he could try waitering at a restaurant, maybe a place like … um, okay, not Hooter’s. But not Twin Peaks either. I’d put him in someplace like Denny’s or something. Or make him a busboy. He’d have to carry drinks and food to customers, and yes, not sell fake ass pillows.

4. What if he really didn’t like the jobs listed above? MyPillow Guy might want to consider dog food taste tester. It makes good money and you get to make sure it doesn’t kill you off or make the dog sick. And he’d be telling plenty of stories about the nasty tastes of dog food to his colleagues at one of the other alternatives listed above, or to his wife and children around the dinner table. No fake pillows needed.

5. Perhaps he should try donating plasma. MyPillow Guy might enjoy the poking and prodding in his skin, or not. But does anyone know how important blood and plasma sales or donations are? A pint saves quite a few lives. And he doesn’t get to rave on about his pillow crap either.

6. Maybe he should just be a paparazzo and harass celebrities if that’s what could put him to a close but sticky jail sentence, depending on what pics he takes. paparazzi are paid to harass and take pictures of people, and maybe he could take the pics of people wearing his fake pillows around town, and you’ll be darned to see Norwood College nannies doing the defensive driving of their celebrity kids around so that people would really be like, that’s no guy in the Paparazzi at al. That’s the MyPillow Guy. …” The people would proceed to yell out that his pillows are just pillows, nothing special.

6. Idk what you all think, but most of the weirdos who commit crimes are hired as sewage workers or janitors. Perhaps this MyPillow king could sit down and get dirty for a living. Maybe he should be a janitor or house man maid, so he would clean up rich people’s dirty poopy crap and have to unclog pipes like a plumber, but not go super into that. Maybe a handy dude as long as he finishes the damn job and doesn’t promote his fake pillows.

7. IF he could sing, maybe he’d be charged to sing the national anthem at ballgames, but I would go a step further. MyPillow Guy would be required to sing the Black national anthem, Lift Up Your Voice and Sing. Maybe we’d have him sing that while his fake pillows are being unstuffed right in front of him. I’d torture him by making him sing that song twelve times. Okay, moving on.

8. Maybe he could be a construction worker, a builder, building affordable houses for the poor. He would not be allowed to put his pillow crap in those houses though.

9. IF not, just make him contribute to a soup kitchen, one that accepts sexual minorities. He’d be required to put all his soups there, and all the people would say, oh, is MyPillow Guy doing something productive for a change? He donated the shrimp stew his wife made to us. Yes, I’d be clapping hands for this one. And he’d not be allowed to promote his pillows too.

10. IF there’s one thing I wish for MyPillow Guy, it’s that he understand the meaning of life. HE needs to consider if not anything else being a philosophy professor, be forced to research liberality and topics he doesn’t like, and maybe he’d be waking up and changing his name from Michael Lindel to something else. He’d be all, “I don’t like you, Trump.” He’d be going, “Oh, dearest Judge Judy, I want to change my name to John fogerty or James McMichael and I’m not the MyPillow Guy anymore.” Perhaps when he sees the dead people who die because of his conspiracy theories, the deaths due to hate crime laws that Trump doesn’t or didn’t care about, the people being disrespected at Valor Christian School, and he hears the kids cry, well, the answer would be in a song I love so much. Blowin’ in the Wind. Bob Dylan, back me up.

IF anyone wants to tell me how many times must a man cry himself before he notices he is doing such, the many times bullets hit the streets, if MyPillow Guy had any good in his heart, he’d stop doing this crap he’s pulling on the world, and maybe he’d join Bob Dylan on the stage, singing a song that asks and answers many questions, that brings attention to the sad state of our human race. Mr. Dylan, I love you profusely because your music is so awesome. You bring attention to everything, you are a songster. Could you do me a favor and teach this My Pillow trash talker how to be a hippy? I transformed from a Conservative Christian into a life affirming liberal, and I hid all the liberality, but maybe the whole time I was in Colorado, I was and stil am a liberal thinking but Conservative dressing unlady who is so unladylike she doesn’t need to hold a flip you off sign that says, patriarchy get out. Truthfully, I don’t hate people, and I’d be glad to invite MyPillow Guy to become a UU in my church, and get rid of his fake pillow ads for good.

Have a happy holiday season, and I won’t be endorsing or listing Mike Lindel’s crap on this blog, so stay tuned for a gift guide soon.

Beth

How Hard Is It to Process When Freedom’s Gone?

Dear readers,

A spoiler alert is in effect for Handmaid’s Tale Season II. Please skip if you haven’t seen or watched this show. However, if you have seen the show and know what came after, do read this post.

This is hard to process. Emily found out in Season II of the Handmaid’s Tale that her professor colleague was hanged and called a really bad word that refers to gay men. Emily herself is in a lesbian relationship and her Martha partner got hanged for it. Emily was forced to go to the Colonies with the so called unwomen. Same with Janine. I feel bad for Janine, and for all the Emilys out there in Afghanistan who will never see her lover again.

There is something quite different about OfFred in the handmaid’s Tale. She’s spunky and she’s ready to rebel at all costs. Now I know why a buddy of mine hates Serena, and that gal deserves the same fate as the unknown wife in the colonies who was being punished for what? Falling in love. Women are assigned in marriage in Gilead, but let me tell you where in the real world that happens. Africa, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, the entire third world, and the United States, so hell bent on “not offending cultural sensitivities” insists on legal child marriage. Let me explain why I hate this. Because little girls are too young to figure the love thing out … and too young for sex and relationships. Teenagers should never be brides, period.

The Taliban are notorious for acting just like the commanders, Sons of Jacob, in Gilead. And for those who say the Handmaid’s Tale is “irrelevant fiction”, go to Afghanistan. Try living under Taliban rules, no education, no work, just sex and breeding for you who say this who are straight females. My worst analysis of the recent scenes I saw in the Handmaid’s Tale are also true. I personally want to make sure that all my sisters and brothers in all communities outside of Christianity and Islam are safe, and the Handmaid’s Tale as I have said is a dire warning. It is a dire warning to us all, and Atwood’s book is even deeper. Need I ask that you read the Testaments?

The big thing is that Serena is about to find out how wicked she was to her handmaid, June Osborne, also known as OfFred. OfRobert, also known as Alma, had both her hands burned off. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kill a woman like Alma. Then there was Moira, who was a Jezebel for a time, but now, boy she’s going to be very very important.

I honestly am glad we don’t have Aunt Lydias in the world, but you could say Isis’s AlHamza Brigade is similar to the aunts of Gilead, only they’re Muslim ladies with guns who force their beliefs down girls’ throats. People, if you’re not paying attention to the similarities between Gilead and Afghanistan, I don’t know what planet you’re on.

I’ll b writing an analysis of a new book by Laura bates, a book about Incels and Pickup artists and the like. I will be talking about her book, how it analyzes the internet, the trolls and former community members she’s interviewed, and so much more. Yes, I’m going to tell you, there are plenty of incels in the white communities here in America, and I did write about one such. I do have some ideas about how we can fight back against such people, but if we don’t, we’re going to be a Republican right extremist country possibly called just plain America, or Columbian Gilead, or something else. We women won’t be able to write these blogs, read other blogs, or do anything but breed and marry, and handmaids could. be the surrogacy contract that most couples could arrange and I could be in big doo doo. People say, “Block the trolls.” But the truth is these trolls are like Eliot Roger, who said he’d punish women for rejecting him. Well, I’ve got something to question Roger’s actions.

What if all men had the government right and duty to kill or maim or impregnate women? I’d have to get out a pistol like June does in the Handmaid’s Tale and … not sure what I’d do exactly, but I’d have to do a resistance thing and take down the incel regime because that revolution is invalid. First and foremost, they’re racists. Incels also don’t like women to the point where they dehumanize and downgrade women from humans to “foid.” Notice the quotation marks I put that word around.

So what are the precautions we women must take? First, I’d never go to places where these men hang out, but if you have to work at a bar, things will be different. First, I’d stick a rapex device in the birth canal, I’d warn my partner I had it there, and go to the bar. Then if a guy tries to approach me and try to work sex like a vending machine, he’d get zapped or cut, simple as this. Something like this happened to a lady in New York, and the guy was forced to go to the ER for treatment, but then the cops showed up and the DA charged him with attempted rape, and that device is evidence of such a thing taking place. Another thing women should know about these types of guys, they could organize, form a male only government, and partner with terrorist orgs. Guess whawt? It happened in Afghanistan for the second time. Taliban rulers will not allow women in cabinet positions, government positions, or what have you. They are lying to all women in their borders, and trust me, they’re a lot worse than incelibates on the internet who say, “Women are not human.” There are men who avoid women too, thinking they’ll charge them with sexual harassment. Well, here’s a tip for gents who want to approach me: don’t catcall or harass me, or you’ll get kicked by my partner because it’s not cool to harass women to begin with. My short skirt is not a license to rape, and neither is my tank top, my dress, or what have you. Neither is a geisha’s gold kimono dress or what have you. Just … don’t … do it at all. Hold your dicks in your pants, don’t open your fly at the bar, just do not do it. You can approach me as a friend, a colleague wanting me to do more with my career, help me and train me as a conductor with a choir, whatever you have to do to get to me and train me in a profession other than sex work. the sex workers have to control the situation anyway, and I don’t plan on doing such things because hell, my partner would be a bit sad, so yeah.

Now if any of you people think this Handmaid’s Tale and incel post is scatterbrained, think again. Women who’ve told me I was incapable and incompetent should know that they will lose their freedom if they associate themselves with a Gileadean government. Here’s what I think the solutions should be regarding feminism and progressive causes and women’s rights. How do we protect boys from incel communities and MGTOW as well?

1. We need to ban these communities altogether, I don’t care if you think freedom of speech. We need to set up algorithms on Facebook and other social media platforms to catch the bad guys before they act. And here’s the good news: we have that capacity, so use it or lose it.

2. We need to establish that gender and sexuality evolve over time, and reteach all these boys in our schools that it’s not okay to handle women the way a pickup artist does, and we need to make boys aware of incel communities so they stay far away from them.

3. Girls must take governing positions as women, and we need to ban some things along the way. One, we need to ban sexual harassment at work, in schools, at home, and in play. Boys need to be taught by good parents, myself included should I birth such a person, that girls are humans, and that girls are not to be raped or violated in any way possible. Boys and girls in high school should be required to read the Handmaid’s Tale and the Testaments and … explore the possible distopian results of not standing up and saying no.

With all this in mind, I’m going to continue watching the Handmaid’s Tale another time.

Beth

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