Progress...

Remorseful Feminist


Rain was falling from the sky with a brutality that rivaled the offensive line of the opposing football team. And there I stood, wet up to my calves, grasping an insufficient umbrella that was no match for the violent wind and rain rapping my face. The Kennedy Eagles had yet to win one game this season, and this final game was not going to change that record. The weather was deplorable; it was as if the heavens recognized our gross insufficiency and was weeping for our embarrassment. But the question on my mind wasn’t “Why can’t we win one game?” , rather, “why am I standing here?” I was not and never had been a person who even faintly cared for sports , and football was one I found particularly annoying. Yet, there I was standing on the 10 yard line, umbrella in one hand, water bottles in the other. Our team played 15 games that year, and I was on the sidelines for every annihilation. I could thank my stupid mouth for my fate, but the real culprit was my feminist pride.
As a young girl, I developed a level of self righteousness that is required for survival when you live in a chauvinistic home. All of my ideas and insights were frivolous in the eyes of my father, brother, and even my mother at times. It was their general belief that I lacked basic common sense, and they told me this on a regular basis. Some girls would internalize their pain and develop an attitude of self loathing, or maybe they would opt for a good old fashioned eating disorder, but I didn’t work that way. As I grew, I developed a sarcastic wit that my father could not argue with, and instead of punishing me for my challenging behavior, he grew to respect me for it.
At the beginning of senior year, my graduating class was ushered into the gymnasium for cheerleading and football tryout information. I, however, despised both disciplines. Sitting through the twenty minute lecture gave me ample time to develop an argument and build up my nerve to initiate it; finally, it was time to leap into the spotlight and become my school’s own “Rosie the Riveter.” During the Q and A period, I waited for the traditional questions to be answered; then, I lifted my hand, stood to my feet, looked the football coach dead in the eyes and said, “Yes, I was wondering if I could sign up for football tryouts; I realize that traditionally only boys try out, but I would also like to .” The entire gymnasium erupted in laughter; I measured a miniscule 5 foot zero and weighed 100bls on a good day, but I stood there, unwavering, ready for a fight. Coach Marshall’s mouth dropped open; he stood there resembling a cod before the catch, but he recognized my challenge, and he was ready to take me on. He was not laughing. He began to stammer, “Uh..well…I..” Hah! I thought, “ Now I’ve got him.” His face had gone white; my father exhibited that look on many occasions, and to me, it never got old. “Sure!” he said. “Come by tomorrow and we will test you out.” “What!” I must have heard him wrong. Where was the argument; this is not how this scenario was supposed to play out? It was as if he stopped time and removed my five foot frame from the carefully constructed soap box I thought I had climbed upon. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew that I could not back down now; I had to show up at tryouts.
Saturday morning, 8 am sharp, I was there among the crowd. I felt as ridiculous as I looked. Before the tryouts became too involved, Coach Marshall pulled me aside and said, “Look, young lady, I know you don’t really want to play football, but as coach, it is my duty to place each person who tries out either on the bench or in a uniform, so here is what I am going to do. I will give you a jersey that you will wear every Friday, and in exchange, you will be our ‘equipment manager’; is that a deal?” Before contemplating my options, I quickly agreed. I was just relieved that he saved me the embarrassment of actually running plays. Coach walked me over to a large, broken down box full of rancid blue and white jerseys. I knew the team was laughing as I picked out the cleanest uniform in the pile; however, I was not about to let anyone see me sweat; I would ride this charade out until the bitter end, and convince myself I was still a credit to the female race for having the nerve to take on the high school football establishment. I plastered a smile on my face and quickly put the jersey on. When tryouts came to a close, I was given game information and a permission slip. I hadn’t even thought about how I was going to explain this to my parents.
During the next 4 months, I hauled sweaty equipment, taped up hairy sprained ankles, ran water onto the field, and serviced the needs of dozens of post-pubescent boys; I did what every generation of women did before me; I catered to the opposite sex. So much for feminism.

Wedding Night

What if on the night before
Ancient love rapped upon your door

And dispelled his devotion true
And bade to make away with you

Before the rising dawn of day
He took your hand and dared you stay

For tomorrow takes you to a place
Where vows affront anothers face

Then the deed will be complete
And spirit spilled upon tainted sheet

For your heart was stolen long ago
By the one whose face now shows

And in his eyes a piece of you
Lies in wait for answers due

Will you have the courage dear
To sever ties and quell your fear

Or relinquish hope, save reputation
Convince your soul through contemplation

That true love can be formed once more
And dismiss the soul that rapped your door

Vaughn my Muse

To the desk of Vaughn M. Maynard (2 ½ years),


This letter is in response to your request for admission to the Academy of Little Brothers.

Here at ALB, we educate only the finest younger siblings. We are an institution dedicated to the advancement of immature human beings.

Our mission statement reads “We will advance our interests slowly and continually while our parents rapidly descend into insanity”.

Initially, we only recruited the most promising young males, but in 2005, we began offering admission to a select number of little sisters who round out our student population. We find that the female ability to whine incessantly while maintaining dominance over her adoring father will serve to frustrate her mother and in effect advance our mission of paternal demise.

Each little brother/sister is evaluated for their ability to engage in various mind numbing activities: such as, repetitive noise making, paper destruction, and food refusal.

Upon enrollment, our students are trained in raisin manipulation, crayon consumption, remote control covert-ops, cabinet evacuation, and shopping cart tantrums. The shopping cart training program has been so successful, that this year we added a two week course specifically dedicated to the Wal-Mart experience. Our research shows that requests made at this mega store are given little consideration due to the frustration of parents, and we are currently developing a similar methodology for Kohl’s and Old Navy.

After careful evaluation, we find that you are a master in the art of aggravation, and we are particularly interested in your vast knowledge of small animal irritations. You possess large amounts of potential energy ,and you adequately manage your output by recharging yourself ,daily, during school hours; this allows for maximum, kinetic energy output between the hours of 3 and 8 pm. Your squealing skills are exemplary, and we especially enjoy your tenacity with regard to the opening and closing of doors, junk food requests, hair pulling, and booger distribution.

It is with great pleasure that we formally offer you admission to our prestigious academy. Tuition is fully reimbursable if your parents are not completely mental in less than 5 years. Thank you for your interest in our training program and we hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,





Ima Payne

Dean of Student Admissions

A poem for my paper

I have released my first born among many
Relinquished into the hands of a capable carver
And when she returns, a hollow shell of her former self
I will repair her disassembled limbs
And receive my reward

New Year...New Start

In my family, New Years Eve was just another night. Never were there riotous celebrations or late night affairs. We would saunter out of our respective bedrooms to watch the ball drop and then retire to our dens in solitude for the duration of the night.

Last New Years Eve has been erased from my memory; my father was clinging to life in a hospital hundreds of miles from my home. 2009 was ushered in with uncertainty, but it slowly became a year of progress. As the following 12 months marched on, new opportunities began to present themselves, and impossibilites became realized. First, my father made a miraculous recovery and finally made the move to North Carolina. Jason and I soon quit our employment as restaurant servants, and we returned to a simple life, a life that brought us time together with our children.

As a lark, I had applied for financial aid. I desperately wanted to return to school, but I never actually believed that it was possible. The whole registration process is a memory that now seems obscured. Looking back, I cannot remember a point that I clearly decided to start school again, yet I did. And without realizing it, I actually completed the semester with a full-time 4.0 GPA.

The children have had a fabulous year. They finally have both grandparents around to spend time with, and trips to their house bring them so much joy.

I have learned many spiritual lessons this year also. To begin with, I finally realized the the previous generations don't understand scripture anymore than my own. They are just as helpless as the generations that follow them. Purging my life of ritual and habit has not been a delicate procedure, for it more closely resembles a full body heave. Standing for truth often lands a person in the line of fire from friends and family...and their judgments soon abound. It is a painful process, but it has left me with a clear impression of who my true friends are...and for that I am grateful.

So cheers to a new year, a new decade. I have spent the last ten years with the man I love, and we have changed in so many ways that I hardly recognize the young couple who walked down the isle together so many years ago. We are a couple of travelers, and I am so glad that we get to walk the road of life...hand in hand.

Enoch

Chapter 48



1In that place I beheld a fountain of righteousness, which never failed, encircled by many springs of wisdom. Of these all the thirsty drank, and were filled with wisdom, having their habitation with the righteous, the elect, and the holy.

2In that hour was this Son of man invoked before the Lord of spirits, and his name in the presence of the Ancient of days.

3Before the sun and the signs were created, before the stars of heaven were formed, his name was invoked in the presence of the Lord of spirits. A support shall he be for the righteous and the holy to lean upon, without falling; and he shall be the light of nations.

4He shall be the hope of those whose hearts are troubled. All, who dwell on earth, shall fall down and worship before him; shall bless and glorify him, and sing praises to the name of the Lord of spirits.

5Therefore the Elect and the Concealed One existed in his presence, before the world was created, and for ever.

6In his presence he existed, and has revealed to the saints and to the righteous the wisdom of the Lord of spirits; for he has preserved the lot of the righteous, because they have hated and rejected this world of iniquity, and have detested all its works and ways, in the name of the Lord of spirits.

7For in his name shall they be preserved; and his will shall be their life. In those days shall the kings of the earth and the mighty men, who have gained the world by their achievements, become humble in countenance.

8For in the day of their anxiety and trouble their souls shall not be saved; and they shall be in subjection to those whom I have chosen.

9I will cast them like hay into the fire, and like lead into the water. Thus shall they burn in the presence of the righteous, and sink in the presence of the holy; nor shall a tenth part of them be found.

10But in the day of their trouble, the world shall obtain tranquillity.

11In his presence shall they fall, and not be raised up again; nor shall there be any one to take them out of his hands, and to lift them up: for they have denied the Lord of spirits, and his Messiah. The name of the Lord of spirits shall be blessed.

I give it all up...

Politics is crap. Democrat or Republican, it doesnt matter to me anymore.
I still read the paper and listen to the hype, but they are all insane. It reminds me of the backstabbing of Julius Caesar. I firmly believe what they do now is more sinister. It would be better if they faced each other in a duel. NPR was all a buzz about Arlen jumping ship and playing for the other team. I am sure they felt betrayed, but where is the root to this system. They lay the groundwork themselves, they are all out to get each other. It is like they are trying to play a basketball game, but each is refusing to wear a jersey like the other guys.What a pointless game that is, running around not knowing who is on your team, or who you can trust to pass the ball to. So each man hugs the ball when it comes to him and tears around the court screaming MINE, MINE, until at last he is tired and gives it to the next moron so he can run around for a bit.

I am not exactly sure when the parties became so divided on a religious level, but I refuse to believe that Christ would be mixed up in it all.