Pro Choice vs Pro Abortion

I know, I have been AWOL again - the upside is that we are moved into the new apartment and I have a new job! Yay! But back to the task at hand.

I know that the topic I have proposed is very sensitive for a lot of people. Whether it's for reasons regarding previous experiences or for religious reasons, people are completely entitled to their own opinion. Something that I've said before and I will reiterate now is the fact that I don't believe in posting political statements on Facebook, and this is where I found my inspiration for this post. My beliefs are my business and not to be influenced or forced upon others. For this reason, it rather frustrates me when I see posts on Facebook or Twitter that are hateful and use language towards others such as accusations or name-calling. The biggest problem that I have with political opinions on Facebook is that the majority of people proclaiming their opinions will never be subjected to making the decisions or dealing with the realities of the issues that these people are facing.

For example:

Dear young male. I respect the fact that you have an opinion regarding abortion and as you said, "women's rights." (Literally in quotation marks.) What I do not respect is the attitude that you use when passing judgement on these women and their decisions. Having a religion is perfectly fine. I myself identify with a religious background as well. However, when you preach your beliefs in a way that condemns the actions of others based on your religion, my respect for you finds itself in sharp decline. You are entitled to believe that abortion is wrong. You're entitled to believe that someone shouldn't get an abortion. That's the thing about abortions, though. If you don't like them, then DON'T GET ONE. I also would like to point out that considering your (assumed) lack of a uterus, abstaining from abortions should not be a problem for you. If on the off-chance do possess both male reproductive glands as well as a uterus, I am providing the contact information for Duke University Medical Center (888-275-3853). I am sure they would love to speak with you. 

I find so many people are, in my opinion, confused about the term "pro choice." I would like to clarify some points so that these people may understand what the true opinion of someone who is pro choice. 

• Pro-choice doesn't mean pro-abortion. Just because I'm pro-choice doesn't mean that I agree that abortions shouldn't be given simply at the drop of a hat. There should be rules, regulations, procedures to be followed, strict limits on the follow-up after an abortion, and so on. There are other options to abortion, however, in certain circumstances, the choice should be left up to the woman. 
• Abortions are not birth control. I'm a firm believer in the fact that if you get an abortion, you should have to receive a type of birth control (whether it's an implant, shot, etc.) so that there is a period of time where you are making a better preventative choice. 
• I believe that birth control should be taught to kids in school. The minute the term "teen pregnancy" started being a household phrase, we needed birth control education in schools. Shows like '16 & Pregnant' are ruining our kids - and abstinence obviously isn't the best option. Sure, teach abstinence AND birth control, but not just one. Kids are curious and whether we like to believe it or not, they're sexually active years before they should be. Would you rather shy away from uncomfortable subjects like sexual intercourse or oral sex and the diseases that you can get and how to prevent them through condoms and birth control, or would you rather educate children and reduce the number of abortions that kids are having because they get into a situation that their teachers and parents never prepared them for? 

The only way to TRULY know if you are against abortion in every circumstance is to be faced with a situation that you never anticipated. To be thrust into the shoes of someone who has to make that decision - who has to consider something she never thought she would. 

The Heart of the Matter

Some decisions should never be easy to make. I say this because I've experienced some of these decisions. What some may take lightly, I do not. Never have, never will. For some, the following story will be passed over without so much as a thought. No emotion, no pain, no sorrow.

My story started a few weeks ago, although I didn't really know it at the time. I live in a neighborhood that has quite a few feral cats. When one decided to make its home in my carport, I assumed it was just "one of those cats." Little did I know that this little cat would impact me.

Last night, I pulled up to the house and the cat was in the carport eating out of our cat's bowls. As I got closer, I noticed he had two open wounds on his chest, as well as scraggly fur that was thinning and matted. Now, most people would just call animal control and leave it to them. No worries, right? Yeah. That's not me. For those of you who know me, ignoring the suffering of something, whether it's an animal or a person, isn't who I am, and I'm proud of that. That being said, I promptly walked inside, got some cat food and a bowl of milk, and brought it back outside. Being sure not to get too close, I slowly set down the bowls and stepped back. The cat looked at me for a second and then completely chowed down. I went in and got Brian and made him come evaluate the situation. He agreed that a trip to the vet and then hopefully the humane society was definitely in order. Considering it was 8 p.m., the vet was going to have to wait until tomorrow.

We spent the rest of the night checking on him. When I woke up this morning, he was no where to be found. I went about my morning as usual - taking Chase to the groomer, going to the gym, and packing to go home. When I came back from the gym, the kitty was right where he was last night. Sitting in the folding tailgate chair in the carport waiting for more food. Of course.

I filled up the food bowl and tried to convince kitty to get into the cat carrier. Considering he's a stray, it didn't take much convincing - I carefully picked him up and scooted him in the carrier. After a few sneezes, he settled right in. I carefully put the carrier in the car and drove the 5 miles to the vet, deciding that I would name him Gibbs. I was promptly escorted into the room. The nurse was super sweet as she coaxed him out of the carrier and onto the table. She took him back to weigh him, and told me that the vet would be in shortly.

When the vet came in, her face wasn't exactly encouraging. As she examined Gibbs, her expression didn't improve. When she was done, she began to tell me what she observed. He had ulcers in his mouth and nasal passage, his eyes were oozing, his fur was thinning and falling out in clumps, and it was probable that his kidneys and liver were failing. I sat quietly listening to the grim prognosis while Gibbs sat and purred quietly and contently. I knew what was coming - I was dreading having to ask. The vet knew what I was thinking, and quietly said what I was fearing - It was probably best to put Gibbs down. Treating him would cost hundreds (probably $400) of dollars and it would only be a temporary fix. Gibbs was sick, and there really wasn't anything that I could do to make him better.

I couldn't imagine making the decision on whether or not to put Gibbs down. I'd never faced having to make any decision like this, but here it was. The tears started as soon as the vet started talking - I knew what she was going to say...It was one of the hardest things I have had to hear. The vet and nurse gave me a few minutes to spend with Gibbs and think it over. The nurse came back in a few minutes later and presented me with two options - putting Gibbs down, or running more tests to see exactly how severe everything was. I asked the nurse and the vet what they would do...they told me that even thought they couldn't really make the decision for me...I interrupted her and said that even though they couldn't choose for me, I wanted to know what they would do if they were in my place. After a few minutes of discussing, we made the extremely difficult decision to put Gibbs down.

I chose to be in the room with him while they gave him the injections. They sedated him and then gave him the injection. I couldn't stop crying and rubbing his head, repeating how sorry I was. The hardest part was knowing that he didn't do anything wrong. After he had passed, I made the decision to take him home with me and bury him in our backyard, just like he was a family pet...just like he had always belonged with us. If I couldn't help him any further in life, I could ensure that he was treated with respect and love in his death.

I know that this story is depressing - and it's meant to be. These decisions should never be easy. They should take thought, and should not be made with haste. I will end this blog posting with this thought:

So many people see situations as, "One decision won't change the world." While this is true, it's the heart of the matter - doing the right thing. When faced with a decision, do the right thing. Take up a cause that someone else has ignored. Be a voice for someone who can't be their own voice. Advocate for what you believe is right, no matter if it's the popular decision or not.

The Right To Bear Arms

I decided to get back to the Constitution tonight. I think I'm watching too much of The West Wing, but then I decided that there can't possibly be such a thing as watching too much of The West Wing.

I've shot two guns in my entire life, a shotgun and a .45 - I'm not exactly a gun enthusiast, but I also don't think that people should be penalized for wanting to uphold their Second Amendment rights. Now, here comes the tricky part that is going to upset quite a few people...but that hasn't ever really been a problem for me.

I have a serious problem with uneducated people owning guns, especially guns that have absolutely no sincere purpose in daily life. So many people want the right to own guns no matter what. No background checks, no waiting period, no anything. I completely disagree. In order to own a gun I believe that the government should regulate gun sales by enforcing a waiting period, providing background checks and a national gun database registry, and reducing the sale of assault rifles. 

Here is my argument: I believe that we are in a time with anger and fighting that runs deeper than our founding fathers could ever imagine. Our would is full of hate, so much so that people will do whatever it takes to end the life of someone. I understand the argument that if someone wants to kill, they will do so regardless of their access to guns. I am also in agreement a majority of the time that, "Guns don't kill people. People kill people." That being said, I must also ask, What about the child who, in finding their parent's gun, accidentally kills their sibling or playmate? Should those parents be allowed to continue to keep weapons in their house? Keeping a loaded gun around a child (even when you think it's "out of reach") causes fatalities that are completely preventable. Don't be mad at the government for wanting to reduce the number of these preventable fatalities - be angry at the idiots who are being stupid enough to cause them.

For those who say that if someone wants to kill, they will, I must also ask, but to what extent? One person killing another, yes. One person killing two others, yes. One person even killing three others, yes. However, what was the last mass-murder committed using something other than a gun? I understand bombs, crashing airplanes into buildings, yes. Aurora, Northern Illinois University, Columbine High School, Sandy Hook, the Safeway in Arizona, Fort Hood, Binghamton, Westroads Mall, the Carthage Nursing Home, and Virginia Tech...all of these massacres were carried out using guns. 

Some of these shootings are recent, others aren't. Some you may have never heard of...but that didn't stop them from tearing the lives of multiple families apart. Below I have broken down the details of the shootings listed above. These mass shootings are only a small portion of the deaths that have occurred from guns in our country in the last decade and a half. 

•   Sandy Hook - December 14, 2012 - Shooter: Adam Lanza - Total number injured & killed: 28, including 20 children under age 8

•   Aurora, Colorado - July 20, 2012 - Shooter: James Holmes - Total number injured & killed: 70

•   Safeway, Tucson, Arizona - January 8, 2011 - Shooter: Jared Loughner - Total number injured & killed 19, including Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords

•   Fort Hood, Texas - November 5, 2009 - Shooter: Nidal Malik Hasan - Total number injured & killed: 43

•   Binghamton, NY - April 3, 2009 - Shooter: Jiverly Wong - Total number injured & killed: 18

•   Carthage Nursing Home, Carthage, NC - March 29, 2009 - Shooter: Robert Stewart - Total number injured & killed: 11

•   Northern Illinois University, DeKalb, Illinois - February 14, 2008 - Shooter: Steven Kazmierczak - Total number injured & killed: 27

•   Westroads Mall, Omaha, Nebraska - December 5, 2007 - Shooter: Robert Hawkins - Total number injured & killed: 13

•   Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, Virginia - April 16, 2007 - Shooter: Seung-Hui Cho - Total number injured & killed: 56

•   Columbine High School, Littleton, Colorado - April 20, 1999 - Shooters: Eric Harris & Dylan Klebold - Total number injured & killed: 39

According to website Mother Jones, “Since 1982, there have been at least 61 mass murders carried out with firearms across the country, with the killings unfolding in 30 states from Massachusetts to Hawaii,” they found...In most cases, the killers obtained their weapons legally. 15 of the 25 worst mass shootings in the last 50 years have taken place in the United States. 


Gun policies aren't popular. Politicians tend to stay away from creating laws regarding gun control because let's be honest, voters like their guns for the most part. According to an article in the Washington Post: "Since 1990, Gallup has been asking Americans whether they think gun control laws should be stricter. The answer, increasingly, is that they don’t. 'The percentage in favor of making the laws governing the sale of firearms ‘more strict’ fell from 78% in 1990 to 62% in 1995, and 51% in 2007,' reports Gallup. 'In the most recent reading, Gallup in 2010 found 44% in favor of stricter laws. In fact, in 2009 and again last year, the slight majority said gun laws should either remain the same or be made less strict.'"


Now, let me be perfectly clear. I'm perfectly fine with people having guns. I don't think that we should make them illegal by any means. (We did that with drugs and how well has that worked?) I do, however, think that there need to be much stricter regulations regarding the purchasing of every firearm, whether it's from a dealer, a gun show, or a pawn shop. 

Not every law can make everyone happy. That's just a fact of life. I can tell you right now that my friends who happily own guns and believe in their Second Amendment rights are fuming at me right now, and that's perfectly fine, however, that doesn't make me rethink my point. I believe, like I said before, that the founding fathers could have absolutely no clue as to the devastating effect that firearms are causing their country. Do you think that George Washington or John Hancock honestly could have foreseen the argument over the right to own an AK-47 or an M-16? Do you think that they could have envisioned a time in their country where a man or woman could walk into a school and murder innocent children? If we want our rights to continue to be upheld, we must be more willing to work with our government. People who wish to continue to utilize their Second Amendments rights must be more willing to be angry at those people who are treating guns as if they're a play toy, using them to make poor decisions, and to create an environment of danger and fear in their communities. It's those people who are truly the ones affecting our Second Amendment rights, not the government. 

Do you honestly think that the government would have any objection to citizens owning guns if it weren't for people abusing their Second Amendment right? 

Okay - come on - share your opinions! 

For Thou Art With Me

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

My favorite Psalm, Psalm 23. It's been read at nearly every funeral and memorial service I've ever attended, at least the ones I can remember. I have a unique feeling for this Psalm, as well as for the song Amazing Grace. 

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me....

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind, but now, I see.

T'was Grace that taught...

my heart to fear.

And Grace, my fears relieved.

How precious did that Grace appear...

the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares...

we have already come.

T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...

and Grace will lead us home.

The Lord has promised good to me...

His word my hope secures.

He will my shield and portion be...

as long as life endures.

When we've been here ten thousand years...

bright shining as the sun.

We've no less days to sing God's praise...

then when we've first begun.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me....

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind, but now, I see.

They're both so beautiful, yet so sad. They're always played at the most disheartening of times; the loss of a loved one. I've come to associate death with these verses. 

I've been thinking about my grandparents lately. Their smiles, the way they laugh, the way they talk. I've realized that I'm slowly forgetting the little things that I used to love about them...how Pop used to talk...I'll never forget the day that I called my grandparent's phone number, like I had done countless other times, simply to hear his voice on the machine. What I didn't realize was that my grandmother had already asked my Godfather Randy to re-record a new message. When the machine picked up and it wasn't his voice..I'll never quite be able to put into words the feelings that rushed through me. 

We never called my grandma Charity anything but her first name...even her kids called her Charity. I'm not quite sure why, but it was just an adapted thing that always made people look at us a bit funny. When a 6 year old girl with spiral red curls is crossing her arms and shaking her head and saying, NO CHARITY!, people tend to take a second look. 

This post isn't focused on me, however. Or even my grandparents. It's actually focused on someone I've never even met. I won't divulge names or anything; it's not my story to tell. I hope they read blogs in Heaven though, because that's definitely where she is, looking down on her family with a smile. I know she would have made them proud. 

Time is sacred. The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. There isn't a countdown, a giant clock with a ball waiting to drop as people shout and yell and laugh. No one is given an itinerary, a check list, a map, or even a nudge in the right direction. No one knows when their time will come to an end, not naturally at least. 

Some people don't believe in the same thing I do. Heck, I'm not even sure what I believe some days. I sometimes have those moments where I think, 'Wow. I don't know what's out there...but it's definitely something great.' I'll end with a short story; a reason that always reminds me to believe in something bigger than myself. 

I was 15 when my grandpa passed away. It was the first true loss I had ever experienced when I was old enough to understand; old enough to grieve. He was the first of my grandparents to pass away, and I would go on to lose two more within the next twelve months. His funeral was held in Woburn, Massachusetts, a small town north of Boston. I remember piling into my mom's car after the service, following the hearse, and leading the long line of cars from the funeral home to the cemetery. Grandma was in the front seat. She didn't know that Mom had asked the driver to pass by Gram & Pop's old house on the way to the burial. The house across the street from where Pop saved the life of my Aunt Susan after a gasoline explosion ripped through their house. Aunt Susan spoke at the service, telling her story of how Pop, after seeing her parents badly burned come rushing out of the house and without any regard for himself, charged into the burning house to find her. Susan said every time she saw Pop for the next few years, all she would do was cry, too young to associate him with anything but being burned by the fire. At the cemetery, prayers and final goodbyes were said. A flag was presented, and Pop received an official military ceremony. I'll never remember what was said, but I will remember what happened next. As the bagpipes played Amazing Grace in the distance, a lone firetruck passed by the cemetery, giving one whoop of a siren. No ambulance followed, no police cars or additional noises were heard. Just a single sound; a final goodbye to the hero who drug my Aunt Susan out of the fire. Mom later told the funeral director that she was a miracle worker, since she didn't know until Aunt Susan spoke a mere hour before that the fire had ever occurred. The woman smiled at my mom and I, paused, and then said she wished she could take credit for it, but that Pop must have made an impression on a much greater being than her, because she had nothing to do with it. 

To this day, I look back on that moment, that lone fire truck, as my beacon of hope; my belief in a greater good, a greater being living far beyond my sight, but so close within my grasp. 

Rest easy, guys...Rest easy. 

Let's Get Constitutional

For the next few weeks, I am going to be discussing different amendments to our constitution, my take on them, and how they are playing a role in our daily lives.

Day One: The First Amendment

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

Freedom of religion. Freedom of speech. Freedom of the press. Freedom of assembly. Freedom to petition. These are the rights guaranteed to us by the first amendment. The bottom line is that someone can be standing next to you proclaiming at the top of their lungs for something that you have been proclaiming against at the top of yours...and there is nothing either of you can do about it. The law doesn't say that you must agree with what everyone thinks or says, but that's the beauty of the first amendment. It allows people with differing opinions to be heard equally. It allows people to voice their opinions to our political leaders. It allows us to practice whatever religions we wish, or to not practice one at all. We don't get to decide who has free speech and who doesn't. If we want free speech then we have to accept that our neighbor, our enemy, and our friends can have it too.

I belief in the equal treatment of others. Period. The end. I think that a restaurant should make the front page just as quickly if they refuse to serve people who are blatantly bashing gay marriage as they would if they refused to serve people who were advocating for it. Just because I don't agree with people who hate someone based on their race doesn't mean that I don't believe that the first amendment protects their freedom of speech to proclaim their beliefs.

This brings me to the one thing that people get into it most about in the news in terms of the first amendment: religion and homosexuality.

I'm completely respectful of people who have varying opinions from me. In fact, for those of you who have red my blog in the past, I completely advocate for it. I like having discussions with people who see things differently from me. If the world was full of people who believed the same thing, how boring would that be?

I can name 10 very close friends or relatives off the top of my head that are openly gay. So many of my dad's clients, my cousins, friends, you name it, are gay. However, and this is the biggest thing for me, that's not how I define them. Just like you wouldn't define me as the red-head, I don't define my friends and family by their sexual orientation. These men and women have done so many incredible things throughout their lives that it's a shame that people choose to only see them as gay or straight. They are business owners, lawyers, athletes, chefs, models, parents, and friends.

I have grown up believing that all people are treated the same way. Having seen first-hand some of the excruciating heartbreak that people have endured simply because they're gay, I have chosen a stance on the issue that is in complete support of equal rights for homosexuals, or as I like to call them, people. I've seen so many people, both in person, on social media, on television, in churches, in schools, and in public proclaiming against equal rights for gays because "It says so in the Bible." Honestly, how does someone being gay affect you personally? I'm straight. One of my best friends is gay...well, several actually but anyway. If they decide to get married, how does that effect me? Does it make my water pressure weaker? Does it make gas prices go up? Do I have to wait longer to receive a letter in the mail? Does it change how I see my significant other? Does it change my religious beliefs at all or the relationship, or lack there of, that I choose to have with God? No. It doesn't. But what it does change is the life of those two individuals who can finally receive the same benefits that other married couples receive. It may not change my life at all, but for them, the whole world changes for the better.

If people want to stand on the street corner and proclaim that civil unions and gay marriage is wrong and means the couple is going to Hell, fine. Let them.

Stand together and preach love and not hate. Accept do not condone. Judge yourself and not others.

For one day, try and see things from a different point of view. Try to understand someone's argument without fighting with them. Allow them to educate you about their beliefs without passing judgement or telling them they're wrong. If we can all do this, we can truly make the world a more peaceful and understanding place, and isn't that what we all want to begin with anyway?

The Lawnmower Has A Friend

You read it right! The lovely lawnmower that inspired this blog is now no longer an only child. The story takes a bit of time to explain, so I'll get right to it.

Brian and I have been renting from his parents ever since they moved from their house to the beach for his dad's job, which has been the biggest blessing ever. Not only have we had a fenced yard, but it's furnished, washer and dryer, appliances, quiet street, and really sweet neighbors. Plus it has given us a good opportunity to get on our feet financially (considering Brian's laptop went to the big Best Buy in the sky...that hasn't really happened).

Well, a week or so ago, Brian and I decided to try and try and spread our wings and begin looking at a place of our own. We quickly found a townhouse that we are absolutely in love with closer to our college campus that was offering a very nice rental price. The only downside is that we have no furniture, and more importantly, no washer or dryer, something that the apartment doesn't supply. My uncle has been awesome and is supplying us with a lot of furniture, but I have still been searching Craigslist and Target, etc. for sales and items we need.

So here we find the story. The other day I found a "too good to be true" ad on Craigslist for a Maytag HE top-loading clear lid washing machine...for $150. Wait, what? These things retail for upwards of $1100, so why is this one so inexpensive? There's got to be something wrong with it, right? So I email the guy expecting to be disappointed. Turns out he is a storage unit buyer and recently came across a single unit with sixteen appliances in it, including this washing machine. After speaking with him, we determined that the previous owner of the unit was probably an appliance dealer, because the unit also had two never-opened stainless steel refrigerators, washers, dryers, and other kitchen appliances.

This morning Brian and I talked it over and he gave me the go-ahead to make the decision if I thought it was a good buy. I took a friend with me and drove to Statesville to take a look at it and make a decision. We watched the machine cycle through with water, empty, spin, etc. and I fell in love with it.

Here are a few pictures that were taken from the ad, a picture that I took while looking at the washing machine today, and its new location in our car port. So, announcement made! Mr. Lawnmower now has a friend in Mr. Washing Machine :) Hopefully Mr. Dryer will be on his way soon!

Oh and also, I moved this thing out of my car by myself. That's right. By myself. I'm a beast.

The picture from the ad.

The picture I took during our visit.

The temporary home in the garage!

Country Roads, Take Me Home, To The Place I Belong

This is a bit more off the wall than the posts that I normally write. Or at least the beginning is going to be, so please bear with me for a moment.

I never remember my dreams anymore unless they are nightmares, so when I woke up in the middle of the night last night and could remember my dream that I had just had in its entirety, it was a pretty cool feeling. It was also a pretty amusing dream.

Basically, I was driving on the roads back home where I went to high school, up in the mountains of western North Carolina. I think at the beginning I was driving, and at the same time, I was trying to cook pasta. I'm not sure how this really fits in, but it was what was happening. So the next thing I know, my dad is driving, and I'm sitting in the passenger seat. I can't remember if I was still cooking pasta or not. Oh well. So as we come around a sharp corner, there is a truck that is stuck and can't get around the curve. My dad, the nice guy that he is, pulls over and tells the man directing the truck that a family friend of ours owns the land where the truck is stuck, and that if he gave him a call, he could help him out. The man looked at my dad, told him, very rudely, that he didn't need his or anyone else's help, and waved us on. As we were driving away, I mouthed the word "asshole" at the guy. My dad, being more of a quiet and reserved person in situations like that, got mad at me for responding the way that I did. My response, and the point of this story, was simple. "But dad, that's just not the SOUTHERN way of talking to people," referring to the man who was rude.

Now, let me make something perfectly clear. I can't really call myself Northern or Southern. My family history in terms of geography is a bit...muddy. Mom and her entire family are basically from up "Noth" in Massachusetts. Gram, my mom's mom, still has her Northern accent and probably will until the day she dies (which, considering the fact that she's 82 and still works 5 days a week, sings in the church choir, goes on cruises, and walks on her treadmill all the time, is not going to be any time soon). Dad on the other hand, was born in San Diego, California, moved to Key West, Florida, then to Jacksonville, Florida, and finally settled in Boca Raton, Florida. The life of a Navy brat at its best. Dad's mother hails from the land of peaches and magnolia trees, Rome, Georgia, while his father's family was raised in Connecticut. I was born in south Florida and raised in the mountains of North Carolina.

Long story short, my accent is a complete disaster. When I'm trying to slap on the charm, it's Southern. When I'm angry, it's as good as being born and bred in Boston. So why, suddenly, do I feel the need to identify myself with no conscious thought, as a Southerner? Don't get me wrong, I love the South and the people here. The men are sweet and the tea is sweeter. Everyone waves and says 'Hello.' When someone asks how you're doing, they actually want to know. And we have grits. What is a grit, anyway? (Whole other post, dude. Whole. Other. Post.)

I guess it's because, in the back of my mind, I know where I belong. The South. Capital S, o-u-t-h, South. I say y'all and I know what it means. I know who to go to if I ever find myself craving biscuits and gravy, true Southern grits (okay, so I eat them with heaps of sugar, leave me alone...), and straight from the woods venison...Google it.

My Southern Home: 

Main Street. The trucks parked on the right? If you tell someone you'll meet them on Main Street, that's where you're parking. Right there. Or in front of Loafers Bench.

I know these roads like the back of my hand...they bring me home. 

The Main Street Inn. We had Prom there my....senior year? Junior year? Senior year I think. Anyway, there it is. 

A continuation of Main Street during the summer months. How can I tell? Lots of pricey cars. 

Home. Whiteside Mountain. My house is off to the left in the valley. THIS is where I come home to. 

Homo...Sapiens

I kinda tricked you there, didn't I? You read the first part and was like, oooh here she goes talking about gays again. Well guess what. You're right.

I love gay people, or what I prefer to call them, people. One of my recent blogs was about a school teacher who was pressuring members of her community to form a "traditional" prom committee and hold a prom for couples made up of members of the opposite sex (one male, one female) to attend instead of attending their high school prom which was allowing same-sex couples to attend together openly.

Let me make my point perfectly clear. You may not like my blog, you may not even like me. You may think that I'm going to Hell for condoning (and downright advocating for) equality for ALL PEOPLE. If that's the case, that's fine. You can hate me and my blog all day long. You don't have to read it. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

I'm a fairly straight-foward person. When I have a question or an opinion, chances are you're going to know about it fairly quickly. When I was setting up my website for my new business the other day, Brian noticed that I had a picture of myself featured on my "About Me" section that he thought I may want to change. The picture in question is the one below:

When I asked why he thought I should change it, he stated that we were in the South, and potential customers might find my opinion "offensive" and choose not to use my company. Now, I would like to make it perfectly clear that I agree with Brian. There is a good chance that someone is going to be offended by my photo and choose not to use my design service because of my personal opinions. The best part, however, is that I don't care. 

My name is Amanda, and I am STRAIGHT AGAINST HATE. Some people skirt around topics that they think others may find awkward. I however, embrace awkwardness. For example, some people have questions that they are too embarrassed to ask someone for fear of what the other person may think about them. Prime example. I was surfing Pinterest the other day and realized that the majority of people on my Pinterest feed were women who were planning their grown-up lives of the future: the perfect house, the perfect husband, the perfect children, the perfect wardrobe. So I asked myself, hm...I wonder if lesbians like Pinterest as much as straight women. For some, this thought may pose a problem. What is the best way to ask someone without offending them? How about straight forward? 

It took me less than 30 seconds to ask my friend Ally - a confident, beautiful, athletic, smart woman who happens to be gay - my question. Her answer was straightforward and she thought it was hilarious that I asked her that. 

Our world is changing, and in my opinion, it is changing for the better. More and more people wake up each day with the realization that being gay defines you only as much as you let it. When I look at my friends I don't see them with a giant label that says GAY or STRAIGHT on their forehead. I see an athlete, an artist, a gamer, a teacher, a mentor, a son, a daughter, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a best friend, a Christian, a leader, a musician, an actor, a dancer, a singer, and most importantly, an equal. 

I'm not asking everyone to suddenly wake up tomorrow and see the world through my eyes. I know that isn't possible. I am, however, asking you to wake up each day with a more accepting view of others than you had the day before. Changing the world starts one day at a time, one person at a time. I am a firm believer in the It Gets Better Project, a group helping to unite and encourage LGBT youth that things really do get better. The teasing and taunting, name calling, malicious tricks and games that our LGBT youth are constantly subjected to is unjust, unfair, and unnecessary.  It happens everywhere. In every town, neighborhood, community, church, school, playground, and workplace. Many people choose to ignore it, but personally, I can't. LGBT youth have one of the highest rates of suicide in the world, simply because they feel alone, unwanted, unloved, and misunderstood.

YOU can help change that one day and one person at a time. The next time you're around your friends and one of them calls something "gay," stand up for what you know is right and tell them to get a dictionary. When you see a kid being bullied for trying to be themselves, step in and offer words of encouragement instead of turning a blind eye and walking away. YOU can be the difference in someone's life.

The Day With The Big Red Heart

Valentines Day. I feel as though everyone is black and white on this topic. You either love it or you hate it. There really isn't a middle ground. Most people assume that everyone in a relationship automatically likes Valentine's Day. False. I do not like Valentines Day, nor am I single.

I would like to go ahead and state that I do have an incredible Daddy and Grandma who sent me chocolate truffles from Godiva (Dad) and a lovely card (Gram) for Valentine's Day. Neither of them sent the items specifically on Valentine's Day, so it was just a nice surprise to come home to one day.

Okay so here is my unfrequent blog rant. I actually hope that you'll stick around for this one, because I really would like to have a few opinions on whether or not I'm crazy. Not that I care what you think...but still. (Humor, guys. Like "hahaha") Moving on.

What is the honest point of Valentine's Day? You go out to dinner and spend silly amounts of money on chocolate, candy, flowers, stuffed animals and cards for a holiday that was originally started by an imprisoned religious saint. That is romantic in what way exactly? Well, it's romantic by the standards of the greeting card companies, people who make chocolate, the creators of stuffed bears, and florists because they make a crap ton of money off of it.

Now, I realize that there are a lot of you out there who are thinking, dang, something really bad must have happened to this girl on Valentine's Day one year for her to be this negative. Actually, the opposite is true. Let me break down my thinking for you.

Some people will argue that Valentine's Day is the day that you are supposed to show your love to your significant other. Oh, I'm sorry. So you only do that once a year? The last time I checked, that was supposed to be every day. As for the chocolate, flowers, stuffed animals and all that stuff. Why? This year, Brian and I didn't do anything special for Valentine's Day. I actually went out and babysat and didn't really spend any time with him. However, that's okay because it's Valentine's Day, not our anniversary, not a birthday or a special occasion. Who wants to spend tons of money on sending flowers (that you could just have easily gone to Costco, Sams Club, Lowe's Foods, Publix, Ingles, etc. and picked up for WAY cheaper) and going out to a fancy dinner?

Of course you have the girls who are reading this thinking, But it's SO romantic! No. No it is not. Spending over $100 on something stupid like jewelry, flowers, chocolate, and dinner is not romantic. Making a handmade card and writing how much you appreciate your significant other just because? THAT is romantic. Coming home to no dirty dishes in the sink, the floor vacuumed, the laundry done, or dinner cooked simply because your boyfriend or girlfriend knows you've had a rough day? To me, that's ten times more romantic than shelling out money for some generic dinner and chocolate.

I guess I can attribute my up-bringing to my feelings towards generic love holidays. I was always one of the guys. I didn't date in middle or high school. I wasn't the popular girl, on homecoming court, prom queen, a cheerleader, or a star athlete. I was always the one guys turned to for advice about girls, and never the recipient of anything special when it came to Valentine's Day. I have seen so many girls treat perfectly nice guys like trash because they weren't fulfilling what the girl thought was acceptable boyfriend behavior. I've also seen people shell out way too much money on expensive gifts, jewelry, dinners, etc. for a significant other who didn't deserve any of the attention they were being given.

Gifts aren't everything. Someone who can't buy you an expensive present must find other ways to show their love, and those are the ones that are truly worth keeping around. A man who spends $12 on chocolate roses that his students are selling to benefit their school and then gives them to you as you walk together on your way to chaperone the Valentine's dance? That's a guy worth keeping.

You can't put a price on love, so don't bother trying. At the end of the day, it's how you feel about your significant other that counts. Find someone who accepts you for who you are...who hugs you when you're sad, laughs at the stories that you've told ten or more times, and lets you lay on the floor and cuddle with their leg while they're sitting at the computer playing League of Legends because you're sick and you took cough medicine with hydrocodone in it and you feel high as a kite.

Happy Sunday, guys.

What Is Your Purpose In Life?

I know that it has been way too long since I have blogged. Things have been so crazy in Amanda-land that I haven't had time to breathe lately. Just a quick update: I started my own business (Amanda Grace Design, and yes we are on Facebook!) and have been ridiculously busy promoting and establishing clients and such.

A friend of mine shared this with me this morning, and it really made me realize how instrumental teachers are in the lives of children. I not only date a teacher, but I am very good friends with a large number of educators, including an Exceptional Children teacher. I think that this article speaks for itself, so I will let you read it. When you're done, please continue reading my post, because I have a few things to add.

Indiana Teacher vs. LGBT Students

Change.org Petition

As everyone who has read one of my blogs before knows, I love everyone. I don't judge based on your race, skin color, religion or lack-there-of, and especially, their sexual orientation, which is why this article truly upsets me. 

As a teacher, you're supposed to support and encourage all of your students, not just the ones that you happen to agree with. It's one thing to state that you don't agree with people who are gay. It's a completely different situation entirely to respond, when asked if she thought that gays had a purpose in life, "“I don’t. I personally don’t. I’m sorry. I just — I don’t understand it… A gay student or adult or person isn’t going to come up isn’t going to come up and make some change, unless it’s because they realize, ‘You know what? It was a choice and I’m choosing God.’”

Wait, what? I'm sorry, you don't think that people who are LGBT have a purpose in life? Someone needs to stand up and inform Mrs. Medley that passing judgment is not the job of earthly beings, and is instead reserved for when we ascend into the next life. We were all created equal, but we were not all created the same. I'm sorry if this is something that is beyond the comprehension of Mrs. Medley, but I certainly hope that her bigotry, hatred, and downright rudeness is not beyond the comprehension of the Sullivan County, Indiana school board, her fellow teachers, her principal, her neighbors, and her family. 

Lord knows I'm not, and have never claimed to be, a perfect Christian. However, I do have to say that the one area that I will never fall short in is loving thy neighbor as thyself. 

Each person that we encounter in life deserves to be treated with respect, decency, love, kindness, and equality. So today when I sit down to eat dinner, I will add a moment of prayer not only for the students of Mrs. Medley, but for Mrs. Medley herself. May God allow her to open her eyes, heart, and mind to the reality of our world, and to accept others for the way that God created them, whether she agrees with Him or not. 

Amen. 

Do You See In Black & White? An Honest Talk About Race

Let's be real. I'm about as white as you can get. Fair skin, very few dance moves, and a lack of any jumping abilities. I'm like pristine snow; fluffy and white. My realistic jokes regarding my lack of exposure to diversity growing up always draw laughs when I'm around my friends, especially my former roommate Dawon.

The Rooms and Myself!

I've never noticed people's race. I know a lot of people say that, but I don't believe that race is ever a determining factor in someone's personality. I remember a conversation with members of my college sorority where a sister asked me what my parents would do if I came home with a black boyfriend. I remember thinking, that's a weird question...Why would it matter? As far as I was concerned, race didn't matter, and that's exactly how I was raised by my family. Unfortunately, the generations that have come before me haven't always felt the same way. Racism is still ridiculously prevalent in some areas of our country, something that is so hard for me to grasp.

My sophomore year of college, I lived with my friend Dawon. A funny, athletic softball player, Dawon had fair skin and red hair, just like me. However, she grew up with a much higher exposure to diversity than I did. I sometimes think that Dawon took it as a personal mission to expand my exposure to diversity. She definitely succeeded. It was through Dawon that I met Tyeesha. She is one of the most self-confident women that I have ever met. She's also black. Tyeesha and I routinely joked back and forth regarding aspects of race, both of us poking fun at different situations usually starting with, "It's because I'm white isn't it?" or "It's because I'm black, isn't it?"

Our friendship was recently brought to mind when I was working at Brian's wrestling match. I was helping one of his injured wrestlers, who happens to be female, keep score on the board, as well as helping one of the high school wrestlers keep score in the record books. While we were waiting for the match to start, the opposing team members were walking around being rather noisy. They were what some people would consider your typical country boys, Carhartt jackets and boots, southern accents, and farm-built muscles. A type of guy that I'm very familiar with having grown up in western NC. Something else I'm fairly familiar with is the frequency that these "country boys" like to drive with gun racks on the back of their trucks. The majority of them hunt, and they're damn good at it. So as the three of us are sitting at the score table, myself sitting between the two wrestlers, I made a comment that Susie better keep her "They better be quiet before I have to come over there" comments a bit quieter before one of them hears her.

This is where things get funny. Susie looks over at me and goes, "Dude, we're black. If anyone is going to be shooting, we got this." I'm going to be 100% honest. I never really thought about the fact that Susie and Khalil were black. No joke. So I kinda just look at them, and I said, Uh, I'm sorry. Have you looked at me? I'm as white as you can get. After a beat of silence, Susie and Khalil broke into laughter. No, she said. I meant "WE are black" as she points to herself and Khalil. Ever since then, Khalil has become my new Tyeesha. He likes to make fun of me, and I like to tell him that it's because I'm white.

Let's rewind about a year. During my senior year, I took my senior seminar class with the rest of my Communication major classmates. It was during this class that we took a good, hard look at stereotypes. Although nearly everyone had an opinion on being stereotyped, I was very quick to point out that the majority of people making the comments had most likely never been stereotyped a day in their lives, not for anything major at least. One of the guys in our class echoed my point by explaining that as a black male, he had been stereotyped walking through department stores under the stereotype that he was more likely to shoplift because of his race and gender. Aside from the occasional "ginger" joke, I've never been stereotyped. I've never been followed in a store, had someone lock their doors as I walk past their car on the street, or been subjected to any other similar offensive gesture.

So I'll leave you with this question. What makes race such a prevalent issue in our society? Why does race matter? Isn't it true that when you take someone's blood, no matter their skin color, it looks the same? Aren't our insides the same color? Have you ever been stereotyped?

Oh Danny Boy, The Pipes, The Pipes Are Calling

The past few days have been filled with so much to do. Brian's grandpa Walt passed away on Saturday at 12:15 a.m. Brian's parents were on their way to visit Walt, as were his other two children, when he passed. I think he knew everyone was in town and he was just ready to let go. I was so blessed that I got the chance to meet and talk with Walt in the week before he passed. He was absolutely hilarious and very sure of himself. He was joking even in the final days, telling us that the good thing about being terminally ill was that you didn't have a roommate in the nursing home. He even started to quiz me about how much I knew about him, asking which of the Mulligan boys (Brian or Shawn) was more like him. I failed the quiz, but got a few good laughs in the process.

Walt's funeral was last night. It was small and intimate. Brian's mom Kris played the piano and sang, and her choir was absolutely incredible. They sang Danny Boy and Amazing Grace, among other songs. It was gorgeous. Afterwards we ate lasagna and spaghetti, salad, bread, and took shots of Irish whiskey.

I woke up this morning pretty sure that I had the flu. I had a sudden onset of congestion yesterday while preparing for the funeral, but it had been easily remedied and not intense at all. This morning, however, I felt as though I had been hit by a truck. Stuffy nose, chest and head congestion, I can't hear, my body aches, I have a sore throat, and I go from freezing to burning up. I'm currently stuck on the couch with Chase waiting for Brian to come home from school and then wrestling practice so he can bring me Gatorade, Vick's tissues, and dinner.

Chase has decided that the best way to cure the flu is to lay on top of me. Not exactly what I would consider to be a solution, but he seems to think it helps.

If you have any well wishes for Walt, please leave them below. I'm sure Brian would love to read them.

I'm Not Unemployed...I'm Retired

That's what I've started telling people. It's rather sad actually. Fortunately, unemployment has a few upsides.

• I get to read as many Janet Evanovich books as I want on my Kindle
• Extra time to practice my cooking skills
• No piles of dirty laundry
• I always have time to vacuum
• My alarm clock no longer has a use past reminding me to take my birth control

Unfortunately, it also comes with a few downsides, such as money and a way to get rid of feeling like a complete failure. 

For those of you who are new readers (yeah...right) I'm Amanda, and I'm currently obsessed with reading Janet Evanovich books. If you have any thoughts about what book to read next, please pick up one of hers, because they are absolutely hilarious. Start at number one, One for the Money. This whole spiel has a point, just so you know. 

I've decided that I want to be a bond enforcement agent, also known as a bounty hunter. Unfortunately, I don't want to be just any bounty hunter. I want to be Stephanie Plum. Considering the fact that I am unemployed, I have quite an ample amount of time to think about how much I want to be her. Not in a creepy way, come on now. Who wouldn't want to be a bad-ass bounty hunter? Okay so the occasional shooting and explosions I may not like too much, and lord knows I am attached to my car, but really. You have to admit the similarities, mainly my grandmother. Lord knows I love her, but good lord. She's an absolute nut cake. Barely 5 feet tall on a good day and full of Boston attitude, Gram has a tendency to think that she's invincible. Add the fact that I'm terrified of guns, hate running, and have a tendency to have crazy things happen in my life, and I think I'm in the running. 

So anyway. If anyone has any job suggestions or leads, I would appreciate the leads. Considering the lady I sat next to on the plane back from Florida was encouraging exotic dancing (mom wasn't exactly thrilled on that one...) I think that anything is better than that. 

If all else fails and I can't be Stephanie Plum, I want to be Janet Evanovich. A woman who writes to her hearts content and just happens to be one of the most popular crime authors of our time? Stick a fork in me, I'm done. 

Check out the links below to connect with Janet Evanovich and please read some of her stuff. It's FANTASTIC! (Here's a hint: In book 10, you get to read about a school bus-driving drag queen who was packing an uzi instead of an AK-47 because it fit under the seat better...how 'bout THOSE apples)

Amazon Profile

@janetevanovich