The term "pro-life" is not appropriate. It implies that I am anti-life. I am not anti-life. I am against murder and suicide. However, I do not consider abortion to be murder. I am pro-choice. I am pro-abortion. I am not anti-life.

So, darlings, if you consider yourselves to be "pro-life" please do not take offense when I disagree and say you are anti-choice and anti-abortion. I would think you would at least be all right with "anti-abortion." But as you have not given me the same credit (which is to say you assume I'm a murderous horrible person because I am okay with abortion) I will not give you any credit either. You are anti-choice. Which could mean you don't think anyone should have any choices about anything, which is probably untrue.

Maybe now you will know what it feels like being mislabeled. Even though it's probably just little ol' me who will bother calling you that.

I've come to the conclusion that my cousin's parents love him conditionally. I know this because he has not turned out the way they wanted him to, and where they once gave him everything he wanted because he was a shining star (fantastic at golf, amazing grades, popular), they now treat him like he's some sort of mess that was switched at birth with their real, perfect baby. As long as he met their expectations, they loved him. My guess is he came to realize this and quit meeting their expectations because they were too damn high for him.

Though I am not at all close to my cousin, I feel for him. Of all the people in the world that should love you unconditionally, it's your parents - or at least one of your parents. But he doesn't have that from them. Instead he has snide remarks and looks of disappointment. He's had that since he graduated high school and opted to skip college altogether to play golf professionally. His parents were OK with that until he quit playing golf and went on to be a food server/bartender. They hate it. He, on the other hand, seems to love it. So they should be happy because one should live their  life the way they want it, not the way their parents do.

Aunt and Uncle don't see it that way though, so my cousin is pretty damn well fucked. And that is all aside from the fact that he is probably a very closeted gay man. I think he is closeted because his father absolutely hates gay men and could not be more homophobic around them.

Anyway the most important moral of this very true story is pretty simple: the more conditions you put on the love for your child, the further they are going to be from what you want.

Depression creeps in as a slow coil of smoke; I am slowly suffocated in my restless sleep. I wake wondering how bad the day will be, instead of how interesting, beautiful, or sweet. I don’t know it, but the smoke is expanding in my body, slowly poisoning all that is precious and worth living for. I forget about the flowers, the shining eyes of hope, the tears of would-be sadness that become tears of relief once shed; I forget about tender embraces on a cold, dark night, smiling faces and beautiful things older than time. It all gets lost in a close, penetrating fog of emptiness, loss, and unwarranted apathy.

It’s all lost, lost until passion regains consciousness and banishes depression back into the shadows.  

Most of the time I don't bother getting to know you because it comes to the point where I can see right through you. So if I don't even try getting to know you, it's probably a compliment in that I don't want to ruin your mystery or an insult because you never had any mystery to begin with. If you know anything about me, you know that I think transparent people are boring. I want to figure you out.

I need you to be a puzzle I can't complete.

jewelry that costs more than ten bucks, constipation, republicans that are republican just because their parents told them they should be, fanatics, raspberry iced tea, lime, the taste of alcohol, skinning my knee, roller coasters, yellow highlighters, gray cubicles, mustard, mayonaise, people who think they are better than me, people who think that being smarter than me makes them entitled to be assholes, the fact that there will always be smarter than someone else, infinity, the concept of heaven and hell, driving, people whoa re as bad as/worse than I am at driving, conflicting smells like popcorns and taco bell, feeling sick, being sick, wondering if I'm ever going to leave the country, the word 'pussy' in any context, the word 'hubby' used in any context, shampoo that smells like flowers, lotion that smells like anything at all, soap that doe snot smell like soap, electric toothbrushes, cancer, heart disease, bugs, wet pant cuffs, scratched dvds, torn pages, newtgingrichrushlimbaughgeorgebushetc, women who want to be n.gingrichr.limbaughg.bushetc, people who don't wash their hands with soap, male gynecologists, feeling like a guinea pig, people treating me like I'm helpless because I'm small, driving fast on winding roads, 100+ degree weather, global warming, SUVs, riding on the bus, flights with connections, figuring out what to eat for lunch, feeling like a maid, pop rocks, mother hen-types, cooking shows, safety scissors, diamonds, yellow blankets/pants/jackets, paisley, theme parks that makes animals suffer through screaming chillden and loud rides all day, littering, commercials, old food rotting in the refridgerator, waiting for people to return important calls, teenaged girls, the mall, stop signs, uncomfortable shoes, sunburns, screaming children, waiting in line, people who are rude to perfectly nice customer service people for no reason, paying to see movies I don't want to see, the word 'nude', getting false praise, being the only person who cares, plastic wrap and tape disasters, bug bites, bug spray, fatigue, time management, and most of all I don't like that all I ever do is complain about what I don't like. So. 

I do like. . .

the smell of wet cement near a pool, lilies, sleeping, waking early enough on a weekend to feel like I have an entire day to play around, restaurants, homemade salads from scratch, strawberries, good books, learning, not having to do any homework, sex, clean laundry, shows with imagination,  satellite radio, buring my feet in the sand, walking along the coast, smiling, laughing, making other people laugh, jumping up and down because I'm so excited I can't help it, dancing badly in my bedroom, music that makes me want to move, music that makes driving a better experience, knowing I can be myself around someone without feeling at all awkward or weird or annoying, typing too fast, writing, reading, people watching, going places I haven't been before, cemetaries at night, slow walks without a destination, self-iscovery, seeing someone else's self-discovery, marine life, people who actually try to do something about global warming, feeling important at work, heights, adventure no matter how small, old photographs, black and white photography, the word 'naked', playing in park playgrounds, summer bbqs, beach bonfires, being with a few close friends, seeing the moon reflect on waves, doing things I'm afraid of on my own terms, getting sincere compliments, bear hugs, climbing trees, ice & roller skating, dogs & cats & rabbits & mice & other small(ish) creatures, people who are strong in ways that have nothing to do with physique, watching my cats roll around in sunny spots on the carpet, rubbing my newly shaved legs together in clean sheets, feeling better after a h uge burp (or fart), knowing that though I may be a woman I'm not necessarily a lady, hopscotch, burned to blackness hot dogs/chicken/popcorn, handwritten letters, fresh orange juice, a cold pepsi on a hot day, the kind of nachos you can only get at ball games and amusement parks, water slides, chocolate ice cream, ice cubes, surprises that don't suck, waterfalls, swimming, diving, seeing underwater, seeing old friends and feeling like no time has passed, good memories, secrets that don't hurt anyone, solitude when I need to think, friends that listen to be vent about complete bullshit, friends who realize they're always welcome to vent to me, the desire to scream because it's just so damn rare and shocking for me, blowing bubbles through a straw, watching someone (who knows how) play the guitar, eye contact, feeling comfortable enough to touch, hot showers that end with a cold blast, candlelight, full and/or yellow moons, conversations that never end because you're always coming back to them over time, passion, silk, inside jokes, "reading" minds, jinxes, taking my mom to dinner, tight t-shirts, knowing I could win a wet t-shirt contest if I felt like being in one (never), finding the perfect gift, purple highlighters, motorcycle rides, how he looks in leather jackets, dancing in the dark, reading old cards, shaving my legs, french fries (with or without cheese), caring too much becaus eit's better than not caring at all, squeegees, sitting in a car as it goes through the carwash, pacman, graphic novels, beautiful men and women who don't realize they're beautiful, dancing in my chair at work, making funny faces, stickers, tearing paper out of notebooks, thinking about religion, black ink on white paper, not always getting the joke and not being afraid to admit it, good tattoos on surprising people, haggling, earning my paycheck, taking much needed breaks, vacations, hot food, warm bodies, cold water, touching snakes that aren't poisonous, taking pictures of weird things, magnets, cutting my own hair, talking about books with people who read them, and so many other things I don't even know how to begin describing.