An Open Letter to Haters and Bigots

While walking across a college campus, the faces seem a frenzied blur, too many to count.  The majority of those faces are female, as the New York Times states at least 57% of college enrollments in the United States are women.  With so many educated women across the U.S. in colleges and universities, you would think sexism was no longer a prominent issue.  Sadly, 1 in 5 university women will become the victim of an attempted or completed rape by the time she graduates, and approximately 25% of female graduates will become victims of sexual assault (RAINN.org).  The walk across campus suddenly seems darker knowing that many of those visages are masks, hiding the new truth of our generation:  every day when students walk across their campuses, it is guaranteed they will pass multiple victims of sexual assault. 

So why does it matter?  As Martin Luther King, Jr. once stated, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.  Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”  Whether discussing our local community, nation, or world at large, we are all part of the fabric of humanity, the tapestry of our time.  Our actions and reactions are tangible evidence of not only who we are, but where we come from, and where we are heading.  Although progressive since the 1960s, many Americans are still exposed to bigotry, racism, bullying, and hate crimes.  A forerunner to these systematic oppressions within the United States is widespread violence against women – a topic often dismissed and rarely addressed.

You see, one person’s choices and actions do impact others.  I know this for a fact because I am a living example of Dr. King’s statement, made some 30-plus years before my birth.

The actions of others almost killed me.  From sixth grade through eleventh grade, I was bullied.  In tenth and eleventh grades, the bullying became sexual harassment and assault.  More than that, I am a statistic.  On April 23^rd, 2010, when I was only 16 years old, I was brutally gang raped by peers from my school, and as a result was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) - a common anxiety disorder that develops after exposure to a terrifying event or ordeal in which grave physical harm occurred or was threatened (MedicineNet.com).  The rape was designed to belittle me and take away my very womanhood, a trait they viewed as weakness to be taken advantage of.

Unlike the Sexual Assault Statistics (OneinFour.org), my rape didn’t occur in college but in high school.   Approximately 44% of sexual assault victims are not legal adults, meaning they were assaulted under the age of 18, as I was.  An average of 237,868 women are victims of sexual assault each year in the U.S.  This computes to 28 women per hour (www.oneinfourusa.org/statistics). 

I’ve learned that I can make a difference, one person at a time.  Like a ripple in the water, a drop of rain on parched ground, or a smile or hug to someone who’s hurting, I will make a difference in the world.  Finding my voice, literally and figuratively, was more than overcoming my past or my disability.  My voice is helping me stand up against numerous kinds of injustices: bullying and cyberbullying, violence and abuse against children, acceptable treatment of the LGBTQIA community, racism, and abandonment and cruelty to animals.   But more than that, my hope is to speak out for and continue to work with women who’ve been abused or victims of assault, and to educate those around me about the horrible and far-reaching epidemic of violence against women.

Recently, after a YouTube video of mine was posted on the TESSA of Colorado Springs’ facebook page, I was asked for an interview with a local news station. In the interview, I spoke about teen dating violence and an abusive relationship I had been in. However, following the interview, one comment on the webpage’s link really stuck with me. An anonymous writer commented, “Im not sure this addled little hooker should have been in a "relationship" at 14.. Im also not sure why this bubble headed bimbo's dating "advice" is "news" ??” Now, imagine after opening up about something difficult and challenging in the hopes of making a difference, only to be greeted with harsh criticism and insults. Here’s the thing – I get it ALL the time. I talk about relationship abuse, rape, sexual assault, feminism, racism, ableism… and I am often greeted with hate and even threats from the cyber community. I have been called “cunt, bitch, faggot, pussy, feminazi,” told “get back to the kitchen you ignorant slut” and my personal favorite: “you sound like you microwave hamsters,” among many others. I have been through so much, and when I try to make a difference for young women like me, I am often re-traumatized when I am met with pure hatred and ignorance.

It is never easy to fight for what is right. It is never easy to educate others or push for progress in our community. It certainly isn’t easy for me, with a disability that often hinders and limits me. But, to Mr. Anonymous (whom I call Jerkface in my head), and to all the other cyberbullies I have met… THANK YOU. You are the reason I do what I do – literally. Because there will always be someone who doesn’t understand, who doesn’t see the issues. Let me assure you, Mr. Anonymous, every time you post something ignorant on a webpage, I will be there. I will NEVER be silent. I will NEVER stop talking about what is going on in our community, and I will never stop fighting to make the world a better place for my children and for YOURS. This “addled little hooker’s” story IS newsworthy because 1 in 3 women and 1 in 10 men will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. Until it changes, I can promise you every time you turn on the news, I will do my damndest to be there, talking about assault, raising awareness, and making a difference in our community. Thank you for empowering me to never stop fighting for change.

“I write for those women who do not speak, for those who do not have a voice because they were so terrified, because we are taught to respect fear more than ourselves.  We’ve been taught that silence would save us, but it won’t.”  Audre Lorde.

Adults are Liars and Other Lessons

            You, a counselor, are seeing a client who is engaging in self-destructive behaviors. She demonstrates interpersonal chaos, impulsive and irrational behavior, cognitive dysregulation, and succeeds in not only harming herself emotionally, but those around her. Her relationships are strained or in conflict, she is not mindful of her actions nor of the influence they have on the people around her.

            As humans, we often encounter people in moments of distress. Life is challenging to say the least, and we being imperfect, flawed, and broken, tend to have lives that reflect this. There isn’t necessarily such a thing as “having your shit together” – it’s an illusion. Life gives us lemons, throws us curveballs, and is sometimes a general shitshow.

            As a child, I used to envy adults. They were so calm and collected and put together. My life existed in a state of pandemonium and disarray where scraped knees and being put in time-out were crises of epic proportions. As a teenager, heartbreak was a common occurrence, and life basically “sucked.” Again, I idolized the picturesque perfection of adulthood.

            Here I am, at the dawn of said adulthood, and I realize… it was a farce. A lie. A Façade.

            Adults, once long-legged creatures of grace and composure more closely resemble fat, fluffy, baby pandas, excited but lazy, rolling over one another and bumping into each other in confusion and blind frenzy, mostly curious as to where the food is.

            Furthermore, adults are constantly in distress. Money and bills and jobs and interviews and dating and student loans and marriage and babies and divorce and taxes and death and mistresses and relationships and confusion and heartbreak and BEDLAM. You adults LIED TO ME. Where was the class where I would learn how to handle everything with composure?

            Back to your client. Her behavioral, emotional, and thinking patterns are creating dissonance in her world, causing misery and distress. Now, our natural reaction not only as a therapist but as an empathetic being is to help our client. Let’s take a step back. Let’s fix it.

            WRONG.

            Here is the true secret to adulthood, and potentially to a happy life. Are you listening?

            We are not here to FIX it. Life itself can be generally lousy sometimes. We hear over and over again that it won’t be easy. We do not FIX our client, we do not FIX our own problems, we do not FIX our lives. We learn skills on how to handle, how to cope, how to reframe, how to regulate. We learn distress tolerance. Core mindfulness. Emotion regulation.

            If your client asked you to fix her life, you would not have the power to do so. Even she lacks that power! But we can learn skills that prepare us for the chaos of life and tackle it with grace… like adults.

            I can’t tell you life will be great or easy. In fact, I can pretty much promise you the opposite. But even in our moments of distress, there is great beauty. With the right tools and mindset, you can tackle just about anything.

And as my wise mother often says, “Happiness is a choice, not a destination.” 

Travels

Over the past two years, my relatively quiet life has suddenly included a significant amount of travel. Between being in a long distance relationship, studying abroad, and rediscovering a general love for new places, I’ve found it hard to sit still for too long.

Now that travel has become relatively commonplace for me, I consider myself on my way to becoming a traveling pro.

Whether genetically inherited from my father – a pilot in the air force who gets antsy if he doesn’t fly at least once a month – or simply a disease caught by chance, I have a terrible case of wanderlust.

That being said, it’s time to start passing on information that I have found useful in my travel. Much of what I learned was through some trial and a lot of error… so hopefully I can spare my followers the misfortune of my travel mishaps.

Stick with me over the next few weeks as I discuss how to pack a carry-on like a pro, how to visit NYC, and even share my own misadventures here.

Ciao, miei amori!

A letter to our parents:

We are embarking on a journey. After much discussion and dreaming, Erin, Hollis, Brett and myself are going to western Europe. Why? How? Let me explain.

Last summer, Hollis and I both studied abroad in London. We knew each other for only three weeks, but she became my soul sister. We talked about our deepest desires and fears, our families and friends. Making friends abroad is a totally different experience – you cling to one another with an equal mix of love and desperation. Living with one another gave us a new appreciation for the simplest of things. We learned budgeting, self care, and the true value of a shared, cheap pasta dinner.

I thought I was crazy to go all the way to London with no one to meet me at the other side. My first night in London, I got miserably lost trying to get back to campus. I was so exhausted I was falling asleep, I had to navigate the tube by myself, and it was extremely late. But I was never scared – I am smart and stubborn. I made it back after three hours, and I never had troubles navigating the transportation system again. That experience taught me self-sufficiency, independence, and that the world doesn’t have to be a big, scary place. I sought help without being a target, I was aware of my surroundings, and for the first time I didn’t depend on my parents to get me out of a sticky situation. Hollis had a similar situation and traveled to Ireland and Scotland completely alone! We were empowered by our own strength, explored and pushed our limitations, and expanded our educational horizons.

I have been told “the habits you form now will be with you for the rest of your life.” Many people I once knew have demonstrated the truth in the statement in a negative manner. I have watched youth I knew grow in to adults. Laziness turns into apathy and lack of ambition. Partying, once so cool, turns into alcoholism. Sleeping around turns into failed marriages and accidental pregnancies. While I don’t want to sound all gloom-and-doom, and I believe your life can turn around at any moment, there is an important lesson here: life is a result of intentional habits. So I decided to do the things that were most important to me first, not last.

As we get older, life can just sort of happen to us. Whatever we end up doing, we often end up with more responsibilities, more burdens, more obligations. This isn’t necessarily negative – it’s part of growing up. It means you’re influencing people, leaving a legacy. Youth, in contrast, is a time of total empowerment and change.  We still have ‘room to grow,’ and are at the time of mistakes, discovery, and seeking direction.

I have grown and changed through travel – and what better habit is there than appreciating the beauty of life around me? Traveling changes the way you see the world. You are humbled to realize the world does not revolve around you, and find new ways to relate to others.

I have lost people who are dear to me far too soon, and I am reminded of the fragility of life. We are not promised old age, we are not guaranteed more time. I choose to see the world and taste the fullness of life, I seek to give my life meaning.

Why now? … Why not? I refuse to let my dreams be only dreams.

So, with three dear friends, limited funds and only a backpack, I seek to expand my horizons. We travel not to escape life, but for life to not escape us.

The Trouble with PORN

The Trouble with PORN

Yet Another

It’s impossible to say what’s next Currently, to take one breath And another And another To remind my aching heart to continue to beat While my mind screams for release And I lay Shaking Cold Empty on the floor To he, a game To me, my life And I was a casualty Nothing more, I suppose. His friends who mocked me For my silly photos Silly videos Silly girl Yet, I thought that’s what he loved My passion My childlike innocence My laughter My naivety My zest for life My hunger for adventure and experience Me.
But he loved nothing
I suppose
But his own selfish desires
Not knowing with every breath he drew
I was counting on him
To be the man I knew he could be
To be different
To be the one who finally saw me and loved me for who I am
Who caressed these fermenting thoughts
Trapped in rotting flesh
Who would nurture back to life
The sweet, careless girl
Reckless, in love He was my breath My light And I managed to lose myself in him The permeable membrane All to eager to give it all And now I am left with nothing He, not knowing Me, not seeing That no one can love me But myself.

Sex Education

A Letter to the Moon

I am tired of allowing you to make me cry.

I swore I would never let anyone put me in this position again. It’s all you do.

You mock me, you blame me, you know exactly what buttons to push to get me upset. And the worst part it, I always blame myself. Whether or not I should is up for debate.

But this is what happens with the turning of each page, the close of each month. I watch you fall out of love with me all over again. 

And no matter what I do, how many letters I write, songs I croon to you, how much I make time for you, offerings I make to your glow, nights I howl at your retreating and rising figure… you lose your emotional intimacy with me. I grow clingy, you push away. And when I’m upset I no longer absorb any of the love you have reserved for me, because I so clearly see the absence of it more.

You’re holding out on me.

There’s more to give.

It’s not enough.

I find myself hating you for not loving me like you do when we’re together.

The moon becomes a stranger once more.

Because my love for you is constant – it does not wax and wane with the passing of time. I can hold onto the memory of holding you like it would save my life.

But you… you cannot.

There will not always be a tomorrow to save the day.

There will not always be a plane to carry me to you.

One day there will be too much time insulating us from one another.

And that is the day you will stop loving me.

Until then, faithfully yours I remain. 

Skin

Flesh stretched over muscle

 ligament

and bone

Intended to protect

Instead imprisons

Skin

A face,

A body unrecognizable

Sunken eyes gazing back in the mirror

Dull

and lifeless

A plastered smile disappears

The mask dropped,

 but the hurt remains

I stand under the stream of water,

empty

Scrub it away,

 rough

 and harsh

Tightening across my limbs

Glistening wet

Skin

Trapped within my own body

My very identity as a girl,

ripped away

I became a woman…

 through no choice of my own

Tissue tearing

Blood staining

Arms flailing

Tearing at tissue

As though I could wash away the feeling

Goddamn skin

Fingers bleeding

 have a mind of their own

My own touch disgusts me

Skin

I remember how gently Daddy used to wash my hair

Soap now has a different purpose

The limbs,

the organs

Membrane stretched across

Filth,

rot,

decay

Within my very soul

All the bubbles in the world cannot wash away the shame

Skin

Lungs straining

Bones encasing

My very breath suffocating

Weeping for the loss of control of my life…

No longer mine

Skin

NO.

You

cannot fuck away my innocence

You

cannot own my corpse

You

cannot tell me my body is not my own

You

cannot keep me silent

Enclosed within ribs

Another organ

Trapped and safe beneath

Skin

It beats incessantly

on and on

From final breath and back

To when I lived within another

It has thumped within the cavity

It calls home

It is broken

It is misused

But unlike skin… it is mine.

Despite your efforts to maim my body

Take my virtue

Screw me into silence

Rape a girl into a woman

Skin

It mocks you

Safe within my chest

Beating on, my willpower

I will survive

I will thrive

Heart.

A Letter to my Ex

After almost 8 months of dealing with the finality of what you have done, as well as the end of our once strong relationship, I am no longer angry. I pity you.

So eager to pass the blame and call me a liar, you have turned out to be so much like other exes you once mocked. “We’ll never be like that. Those guys are idiots.” Why yes, yes they are.

You see, it is far easier to demonstrate anger rather than guilt. And I know that what you have become has to be a source of guilt for you.

I have watched as you begged for forgiveness, pleaded that I take you back. But, I have stood strong in my decision.

You see, darling, we outgrew one another. It doesn’t mean that what we had was meaningless; it doesn’t mean that I’ll ever stop loving you. But as I grew stronger in my walk to find myself, you slowly slipped into your indiscretions, and I no longer wanted to have to forgive you for continually hurting me. I realized… I deserve more than that.

Recently, that sad little boy who implored me to forgive him turned bitter. The things you said to me were cruel and hateful and entirely untrue. I stood on the sidelines and observed the once kind, sweet, loving young man who proposed to me was warped by anger and resentment.

As I wept for the loss of any resemblance to the person I once loved, something within me snapped. WHY am I feeling guilty for hurting you, when you have only hurt yourself? Why do I grieve for the old you, when he is no longer within you? And why, after breaking off our engagement many, many months ago, am I still allowing you to hurt me? You know me, and you know the person I am. I am kind, trustworthy, loyal, giving and fully loving.

I understand that you spoke out of anger. And when I was shaking in pain, crying in my mother’s arms, weak and vulnerable for the first time in many years, screaming that I hate you… I realized that I don’t hate you at all. I feel so, so sorry for you.

You took something beautiful, and your selfishness destroyed it. I understand that by demolishing something with your own hands, you feel the need to lash out because the burden is far too heavy. But I am no longer there to carry it for you… you have ensured that.

It’s time for you to move on. Let go of your anger and hatred before it destroys you. You should have been spending this time introspectively, learning who you are and growing through our breakup. Instead you have spent your time alternating between pining for me and hating me-which often involved lashing out at me, and succeeding in cutting me deeply.

As for me, I’m done playing your game. I am learning to be happy again. I have amazing things ahead of me, and I have a great capacity for love that I will not squander any longer.

Mostly, I will NOT apologize for loving myself when you could not.

I loved myself enough to leave, in spite of loving you. But you see-love is not selfish. Your love should have made me stronger, but in the end, there was no longer any to be found.

So, goodbye my dear. It’s time for you to learn to love yourself first. I can no longer hold the mirror for my love to pour onto your own self-reflection. I will remember you always, and I have no regrets. We learned so much from one another.

LET IT GO.

“So love me. So Miss me. Send me love and light every time you think of me… then drop it. It won’t last forever. Nothing does.”

You will survive, and you will be stronger for it.

"I am learning to trust the journey, even when I do not understand it." -Mila Bron

Doggone Tired

I recently received my first “pawprint” pin, meaning I have completed over 200 hours of community service with the Humane Society. I was thrilled, but it is also bittersweet.

You see, every Saturday, I go to the Humane Society of the Pike’s Peak Region in an attempt to give back to the community. But often, I leave upset and even angered at the treatment of many of the animals there.

I participate in “TLC”-which stands for Twice Loved Canines. These are dogs with “behavioral” problems who we work to train to put back in the community. So, you envision a rowdy dog, one who needs a firm hand, right? Wrong. The majority of the dogs that are in the programs are skittish and fearful due to abuse. Week after week I work with these dogs, patiently having to train dogs to trust humans again, when quite honestly-dogs are the most trusting, loyal creatures on the face of the planet.

So many people in our community are cruel and careless with the lives of animals, and I see that hurt reflected in the eyes of so many dogs.

We have people come in and get frustrated because the HSPPR euthanizes dogs. You have to understand, there is no other way.

Typically, dogs that are euthanized are both sick and old, show signs of aggression that is harmful to others, or most commonly, they weren’t adopted in 8 months. Once they hit the 6 month mark, dogs are placed in the “lonely hearts” club. We place a sign to be viewed through the window, illustrating that they have been in the shelter for a long time. But ultimately, dogs that aren’t adopted within 4 months will not find homes.

So why euthanize them? Why not keep them in the shelter?

First, our funds are produced mainly through adoption fees or limited funding through the government. The fee you pay when you adopt an animal covers a portion of what it cost to keep them there. More “adoptable” dogs are given higher fees (ex: puppies) so that we can lower the fees on older dogs who may have more difficult times finding homes.

The longer an animal stays with us, the more they are taking funds from dogs that have a chance to get worked into the system and find homes. And honestly, would you want to continue living in a cramped space, scared as other dogs howl around you, and sometimes only get to be taken out once or twice a day? We have limited space, maxing out at about 300 dogs, 150 cats, 25 rabbits, turtles, or birds and maybe 50 rodents. The design of the kennels are solely for accommodating as many dogs as possible and functionality, as they are obviously neither spacious nor comfortable. They are meant as a usable living space for an animal for a limited amount of time.

The Humane Society is meant to be a temporary fix for a permanent problem… growing animal populations. We are not meant to be a boarding house for the duration of ANY animal’s life.

In the United States, 6-8 million animals enter the shelter system within a single year. That is more than the (human) ENTIRE NEW YORK CITY POPULATION. There are as many as 300,000 animals euthanized in Colorado per year. Do you see a predicament?

WE created the problem. We breed animals and abandoned them. We teach them dependence, and then desert them because life is “too stressful.” Most dogs are domesticated, and simply cannot live on the streets and fend for themselves.

So my advice?

First, a dog is a commitment-much like marriage or a child. Do not enter into the commitment unless you are prepared for the responsibility that comes with it.

Secondly, if something DOES come up, do NOT send your animal to a shelter. It is YOUR responsibility as your dog’s FAMILY to find them a HOME, not take them somewhere convenient for you. Don’t say, “Oh, Sally will get adopted. She’s a great dog!” Bullshit. Shelters can be stressful for dogs. They have limited human interaction, and you essentially deserted them. Sally isn’t going to be herself. She’s going to be scared and alone, and may not get adopted. Would you like it if your parents did that to you?

Finally, get your dogs FIXED. Yes, puppies are adorable, and breeders make good dough. But why would you want more animals to be continually brought into the world, when there are literally THOUSANDS starving? You want another dog? Great! Adopt one, and give them another chance at life. By fixing your dog, you are decreasing the amount of homeless pets, improving your pet’s health, and pretty much saving the world. (In my eyes!)

My rant is over, but remember… your dog depends on you for happiness, food, a home and family. You are his entire world, and that’s a great honor. Don’t let him down.

And as always, support your local shelter. We may be only a bandaid, a temporary fix, but we are trying to make a difference in these dogs’ lives.

“A person’s a person, no matter how small,” Horton Hears a Who.

Friendship

recently, i have learned that people i trusted and depended on do not value me the way i had hoped. as i went through difficult times, i watched as they alienated me and left me to overcome obstacles alone.
on the other hand, i watched other friends support me and love me, and truly step up to the plate when i needed them.
however, i happened upon this article and it got me to thinking. why would i continue to put myself out there when those individuals have shown they don't know what it means to be a friend?
just... food for thought. a true friend would never abandon you in your time of need.

http://www.marcandangel.com/2013/07/21/9-things-a-true-friend-would-never-do/

God is Gay

Falling in Love

Before you fall in love with me, you have to understand. I come with baggage. A lot. You must know about the meltdowns, the nights of endless tears, the depression. You must know about my damaged heart, my broken soul. Be aware of the nightmares, the fact I sleep with a  teddy bear, and am deathly afraid of the dark. You must know about my insecurities, my constant fear of being left behind, my tendency to talk in my sleep.

But once you fall in love with that part of me, you can fall in love with my smile and my freckles and the way I crinkle my nose when I get excited. You can fall in love with my dimples and my ticklish spots and my willingness to be the big spoon occasionally. I'll kiss you when you're hurting, I'll always listen. I'll be your best friend, you confidant, your support. You can either fall in love with me as a whole, or not love me at all.

The Perfect Man

I am no longer half of an engaged couple. That's pretty hard for me to wrap my head around, mostly because I have not been 'just' Kaeli for three years. For three years, my name has immediately been associated with Michael's.

Now I'm in a difficult position. Who am I without him?

Truth be told, our relationship broken a long time ago. But when you love someone, you're willing to play pretend, and smooth over the wrinkles.

So now, I see all these single girlfriends telling me that there are better men, I deserve my prince charming, you'll find your soul mate, and have been pushed towards 'I know this great guy,' or, 'Let me tell you, I have a friend...'

I have come to a compromise.

Yes, I deserve better than the way I was treated. Those hidden, secret wounds ripped open by someone who was never supposed to betray me.

But... I'm not convinced there's a 'better' or a 'perfect.'

I see cutesy little posts on facebook with long, elaborate descriptions of the perfect man. Let me break it to you, ladies. No man is going to go buy you tampons, chocolate and a chick flick, then come home and watch it with you lovingly while you are a raging, angry, hormonal witch, bloated and negative and complaining about every move he makes.

Why can't the perfect man exist?

Because you yourself are imperfect.

How can you expect something from someone when you are unable to replicate it yourself? Remember, if you're allowed to mess up, he should be too. Be forgiving, be patient.

You will find him. He will be wonderful. But occasionally, you will want to strangle him. He may not be able to show you he loves you in the way you want, because honey, he's got a different downstairs mix-up. He's a man. You don't actually want to be with your best friend minus the boobs, do you?

Hold out for passion. Hold out for friendship. Hold out for butterflies and romance and let yourself fall hard. Because love, true love, is a beautiful, messy, confusing thing. And quite honestly, it wouldn't be nearly as special if it wasn't such an imperfect journey.

“They didn’t agree on much. In fact, they didn’t agree on anything. They fought all the time and challenged each other every day. But despite their differences, they had one important thing in common. They were crazy about each other.”

― Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

A Letter to My Sister

After reading my own sister's blog about the trials she faced in her life, I can't help but feel the strongest urge to weep. You see, The King girls haven't had it easy. Between our own mistakes and the folly of others, this world has certainly taken it's toll.

My sister, Tiffany, is the reason I am alive today. When I was in a place all too similar to what she has endured in the past, my mother packed me up, drove my across the country, and led me to my sister who greeted me with open arms.
When living with my sister, I was anything but helpful. Still dealing with unbelievable pain and agony, I had yet to verbalize my struggle to my sister. I resented her in this time. Here she was, with such a modest life, and yet, she was so happy. Tink had gone through a different struggle than my own, but one of similar magnitude. I watched her be gracious to her husband, gentle and patient with her children, and loving and giving to myself. Me, still dealing with immense anger with God... I began directing that anger towards my loving sister.

Over that summer, I struggled to maintain the walls I had built around myself. I slept late, went to bed early. I ate, I babysat, I existed. I was not helpful. I was not open. I was not thankful for the sister who had opened her home and heart to me.

However, Tiffany's patience overcame my stubbornness. The walls began to crumble. I began listening to the teachings of my sister. I began opening my heart to the family surrounding me... that small, four person family with a faith in God's plan that I still envy.

Tink loved me when I appeared at her door, scarred and angry, hurt, closed, and alone. When the entire population of Asheville, North Carolina could not love and comfort me... my sister loved me enough.

I wish I could put into words what that summer gave me. But no words are adequate to demonstrate the strength of my sister. When I picture God's grace, I see my sister's face. There is no person in my life who has been a better depiction of a Christ-like grace than my own flesh and blood-Tiffany.

To this day, she is still my guide and confidant in terms of my faith. When I had lost that faith, she led by example and brought me back into the fold.
Again, words are not adequate. But the love I feel for my sister... I hope she feels it.

Tink's Blog:
Tink Happy Thoughts: Growing Pains... (long but worth it) *wink*: When I have a conversation in my mind the world outside goes blurry. Kind of like the teacher on the Peanuts cartoons, or moments that ar...

My Life as a Sorority Officer

This article was posted on a "TSM" website. And it's pretty much my life in a nutshell.


If you want to develop character, better yourself, and regularly contemplate homicide become a sorority officer. Being on exec board will inspire you, excite you, and put you through hell. It’s a totally different type of hazing. You will learn how to become a leader, and you will learn it the hard way. Girls will disagree with you every step of the way. Over-opinionated seniors will tell you you’re doing everything wrong and leading to the destruction of the chapter. (They’re just sad they’re leaving…let it ride.) As a matter of fact, you will consistently feel like the chapter is about to fall into chaos. I remember the night my sophomore year when we went into crisis mode over formal t-shirts and I sat up with the other officers until 2:00 AM, comforting our crying t-shirt chair and making phone calls. Like seriously…we were CRYING over T-SHIRTS. However, in the end it makes you stronger. You learn how to run a committee meeting, judge the talents of your committee members, and effectively delegate all the stuff you’d rather have someone else do for you. You learn that exec meetings are a completely useless necessity, and you will sit quietly through them each week pretending that you don’t have wine in your travel mug. You learn how to speak so that people will listen, and how to give orders politely…most of the time. You learn how stuff really gets done. This is one of the reasons that Greeks are better at life.
This country would be better off if it were solely run by sorority girls. Not only would everything be more organized (since we’re obvi the most organized creatures on the planet) but there would probably be a lot more pink and glitter too. Kidding. Kinda. But seriously, you have to learn to be organized if you want to finish your schoolwork and sorority work in time to go to the bar. We might not (ever even attempt to) stick to a “budget” when shopping for ourselves, but the recruitment budget is written in stone, and we know how to make the most of it. A seasoned sorority officer could have this little deficit problem sorted out in a heartbeat. Finally, we know when to listen and when to talk. I listen to opinions and advice, but in the end I do the job I was elected to do and make the hard decisions, even if they’re unpopular. The chapter’s needs come first.
One night this semester a sister was comforting me over wine as I had a meltdown after a brutal recruitment workshop. A group of newly initiated sisters came home from dinner, and we watched them cross the entryway, giggling and gossiping. “Remember,” she told me, “you’re doing this for them.”
In the end being an officer is one of the most selfless things a sorority woman can do. Sure, you will go on a crazy power-trip or twelve at some point, you will argue viciously over insignificant details, and you will learn the frighteningly awesome feeling of telling people what to do and having them listen because you said it. However, you will also be securing the future for your chapter. Someone has to care about all those silly little details so that every event can be as perfect as your sisters are. It takes that level of absolute devotion from a handful of women to keep the chapter running smoothly. Your sacrifices of time, energy, sleep, and sanity will guarantee that all of your current and future sisters can continue to have the amazing experience you have had.

Read more at http://totalfratmove.com/756947#thR4wGKOTl8dEI57.99

The Trouble With Government

 Charley Reese has been a journalist of 49 years. His final column for the Orlando Sentinel is as follows. I encourage you to read it all.


545 vs. 300,000,000 People
-By Charlie Reese

Politicians are the only people in the world who create problems and then campaign against them.

Have you ever wondered, if both the Democrats and the Republicans are against deficits, WHY do we have deficits?

Have you ever wondered, if all the politicians are against inflation and high taxes, WHY do we have inflation and high taxes?

You and I don't propose a federal budget. The President does.

You and I don't have the Constitutional authority to vote on appropriations. The House of Representatives does.

You and I don't write the tax code, Congress does.

You and I don't set fiscal policy, Congress does.

You and I don't control monetary policy, the Federal Reserve Bank does.

One hundred senators, 435 congressmen, one President, and nine Supreme Court justices equates to 545 human beings out of the 300 million are directly, legally, morally, and individually responsible for the domestic problems that plague this country.

I excluded the members of the Federal Reserve Board because that problem was created by the Congress. In 1913, Congress delegated its Constitutional duty to provide a sound currency to a federally chartered, but private, central bank.

I excluded all the special interests and lobbyists for a sound reason. They have no legal authority. They have no ability to coerce a senator, a congressman, or a President to do one cotton-picking thing. I don't care if they offer a politician $1 million dollars in cash. The politician has the power to accept or reject it. No matter what the lobbyist promises, it is the legislator's responsibility to determine how he votes.

Those 545 human beings spend much of their energy convincing you that what they did is not their fault. They cooperate in this common con regardless of party.

What separates a politician from a normal human being is an excessive amount of gall. No normal human being would have the gall of a Speaker, who stood up and criticized the President for creating deficits.. ( The President can only propose a budget. He cannot force the Congress to accept it.)

The Constitution, which is the supreme law of the land, gives sole responsibility to the House of Representatives for originating and approving appropriations and taxes. Who is the speaker of the House?( John Boehner. He is the leader of the majority party. He and fellow House members, not the President, can approve any budget they want. ) If the President vetoes it, they can pass it over his veto if they agree to. [The House has passed a budget but the Senate has not approved a budget in over three years. The President's proposed budgets have gotten almost unanimous rejections in the Senate in that time. ]

It seems inconceivable to me that a nation of 300 million cannot replace 545 people who stand convicted -- by present facts -- of incompetence and irresponsibility. I can't think of a single domestic problem that is not traceable directly to those 545 people. When you fully grasp the plain truth that 545 people exercise the power of the federal government, then it must follow that what exists is what they want to exist.

If the tax code is unfair, it's because they want it unfair.

If the budget is in the red, it's because they want it in the red.

If the Army & Marines are in Iraq and Afghanistan it's because they want them in Iraq and Afghanistan ..

If they do not receive social security but are on an elite retirement plan not available to the people, it's because they want it that way.

There are no insoluble government problems.

Do not let these 545 people shift the blame to bureaucrats, whom they hire and whose jobs they can abolish; to lobbyists, whose gifts and advice they can reject; to regulators, to whom they give the power to regulate and from whom they can take this power.
Above all, do not let them con you into the belief that there exists disembodied mystical forces like "the economy," "inflation," or "politics" that prevent them from doing what they take an oath to do.

Those 545 people, and they alone, are responsible. They, and they alone, have the power.



Here is "The Tax Poem" that went along with the article:

Tax his land,
Tax his bed,
Tax the table,
At which he's fed.

Tax his tractor,
Tax his mule,
Teach him taxes
Are the rule.

Tax his work,
Tax his pay,
He works for
peanuts anyway!

Tax his cow,
Tax his goat,
Tax his pants,
Tax his coat.

Tax his ties,
Tax his shirt,
Tax his work,
Tax his dirt.

Tax his tobacco,
Tax his drink,
Tax him if he
Tries to think.

Tax his cigars,
Tax his beers,
If he cries
Tax his tears.

Tax his car,
Tax his gas,
Find other ways
To tax his ass.

Tax all he has
Then let him know
That you won't be done
Till he has no dough.

When he screams and hollers;
Then tax him some more,
Tax him till
He's good and sore.

Then tax his coffin,
Tax his grave,
Tax the sod in
Which he's laid...

Put these words
Upon his tomb,
'Taxes drove me
to my doom...'

When he's gone,
Do not relax,
Its time to apply
The inheritance tax.
Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
CDL license Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Excise Taxes
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel Permit Tax
Gasoline Tax (currently 44.75 cents per gallon)
Gross Receipts Tax
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Inventory Tax
IRS Interest Charges IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Personal Property Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Service Charge Tax
Social Security Tax
Road Usage Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
Sales Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone Federal Excise Tax
Telephone Federal Universal Service Fee Tax
Telephone Federal, State and Local Surcharge Taxes
Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge Tax
Telephone Recurring and Nonrecurring Charges Tax
Telephone State and Local Tax
Telephone Usage Charge Tax
Utility Taxes
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft Registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax

What Makes Me

I wouldn't be me without Phi Sigma Sigma.