Two Minutes

It only took two minutes

Her eyes a stoic green 

Brought me to a beating heart

Brought me to my knee

A trickster, a hipster

I, the man of her dream 

so jealous, so overzealous

She's a drama queen

A two step I won't forget

A date, a dance, or three,

A kiss, a chance,

A real romance, 

A catch, an expiry. 

Two minutes and I slip

I slip into fantasy,

I slip into a state 

Disregarding fate 

Where she is everything. 

Her plane left on time 

Charcoal moonless eve,

Her static kiss sullen, 

A simple "I'm sorry." 

Now she dances so symphonic 

On some cinematic scene, 

An HD portrait, 

Paid well for it,

On a 32 inch screen. 

Her dance gone cold, 

Tired eyes of green, 

Tired of the dance, 

Tired of the dream. 

Still forever I am harbored 

In our two minute ecstasy. 

Never would I come near though, 

She is not the girl for me. 

Not Insulted by the Non-Atomic Housewife War

I've always marched to the beat of my own drum. This makes me socially deviant. I am totally unpredictable, thus chastised as an absolute x-rated, emotionally off-limits, one night only, garden variety sinner. This isn't an insult. 

But It was at one time. 

The secret ingredient is Radium!

I wanted to buy into social norms. I wanted to care about wedding planning, calculating the perfect moment of child rearing, fiscal responsibility, managing an atomic household, catering to a patriarchal society, and giving myself vehemently to a protective and sound man. I wanted to placate the illusion of keep up with the Jones's, suppress my creativeness, stifle my abnormal and abhorrent self centered dreams, and strip all sense of individualism to paint a facade of the atypical American middle class mother. 

I had a Rachel Ray personality, a Max Weber philosophy, and a Sasha Grey sexuality. This character trifecta rendered perpetual cognitive dissonance: a self induced personality disorder.

Before we go any further, I will say this, I absolutely love my 2 year old son. He is raised with a non-religiously underpinned moral compass thanks to his cultural feminist fanatic grandmother (also a Sociology guru), and an entailment of common civility.

I currently reside in Limerick, Ireland on Erasmus (EU)/Study Abroad (US/CA.) I came here alone. I have a son, an ex husband, and a dog. I have this family. Even though I am divorced, they are still my family. I separated myself from my family to follow my dreams and finish my education. This is a social taboo. It is also quite deviant that I had a boyfriend. It is even worse that after that boyfriend dumped me (twice), I began seeing someone else here in Europe. Even though a few of those things are not in my control, I am shunned as some kind of social fuckup: someone who is attention greedy and unstable. Sure, I understand their presumption and, if I wasn't well versed in abnormal psychologies and the intimacies of being a total bitch (like those who judge me for trying to make my life better for my son and myself- or call me a fast lay and unfaithful after my ex dumped me, did I mention, twice?) I would be insulted. 

But that's all fucking non-sense, and I am sick of apologizing for the insecurities of the jealous, and the labels and degradation they transpose upon me as a guilt.

My wild life is like eating potato chips in the middle of church service. Everyone shuns the things I do, but secretly, they wish they could do the same. People like me (intense, intellectual, driven, charismatic types) are deeply despised because of jealousy. Love us or hate us, we really couldn't care less.

Thus, instead of constantly apologizing for my actions of separating from my husband, for temporarily leaving my son to finish my education, for feeling attraction to other men, for dating again after my ex dumped me twice, for oil spills in Galveston, and the troubles in Belfast, for everything ever in the history of time that is somehow entirely my fault, I am putting down my stiletto and saying a brave "fuck off." 

I am tired of harboring guilt instilled upon me by 28 years of constant bombardment by my estranged family that I am destined to fail. I am sick of jealous people who want to see me fail and find pleasure in my misfortune. I am tired of taking the judgement brunt of every obnoxious externally perfect but internally rotting miserable middle-class person who gave up their dreams to cater ignorant gender roles. That's isn't my theme. I don't pray in that denomination. I don't subscribe to that newsletter.

I despise this cold sexist categorization women have been labeled into, ironically, by other women. Either we are married with kids, we are prudes, or we are loose party animals. If we get a little tipsy and dance with strangers, we are sluts. If we have kids, our lives are over and our proverbial baggage is a ball and chain, our ears tagged with some random man's name. If we travel the world, we are unstable, unpredictable, selfish, and thrill-seeking. If we stay home, live modestly, and are straight edge, we are boring. We cannot do anything right. And why is it that we cannot do anything right? Because we are women, of course!

Guess what! I would rather be a slut dancing with a ball and chain of life experience baggage, a straight edge, "boring" modest homebody, and a well traveled college educated woman- than a stuck up, vapid, personality void, college drop out, gym bunny, prescription pain pill addicted, Starbucks inebriated, judgmental sheep, ready to mull over anyone with a Target shopping cart.

/rant /rave

While I sound fairly hateful, I am quite a happy person. My name is Kati and I am the only person ever who has encouraged me to follow my dreams. I am my own hero, and a soldier on the forefront of the Non-Atomic Housewife War.

Unembracing Fat Acceptance

I do not embrace "fat" culture, nor do I believe in thinspiration, anorexia, preggorexia, or any other extreme weight-based lifestyle. I believe both externally-revolved lifestyles pull on obsessive self destruction and compromised self worth. I have been in both places. I have been the "fat" girl and felt the constantly humiliation of mere existence. I have been the "anorexic" girl who was immediately labeled a slut for wearing my shorts a little too short. Both extremes are full of hate-driven self-acceptance. You would never let an alcoholic on the verge on a shot liver continue to drink themselves into oblivion. You wouldn't let an injured friend bleed to death without calling EMS. So why should there be a cultural acceptance for extremes in weight?

I will be the first to tell you, it is easier in this country to be a normal sized (according to the BMI) white woman. I have seen my friends of other races and sizes get profiled due to their appearances. I also noticed this odd benevolent gravity strangers feel toward me. I am a sociologically minded person, I take in all and every social interaction, and the older I get the harder it is to bite my tongue at these bigoted judgement calls.

I believe the root of tension between thin and fat people lies at a perceived deprivation they find in each others character. Larger people carry more dominance and appear stronger. Thin people are more sexually pursued. Power and beauty are two traits most anyone would agree are the fundamental influences of success and sex. When someone lacks what the other has, it breeds a serious disdain and desire to discredit.

The silent war of size is what I call "weight hate." It is not just envy, it is also a misunderstanding of another's life. Being overweight, I had a raging jealousy toward any woman who was smaller than me. I never let it show but it seriously effected my happiness. When I was underweight, I hated being around larger women because of the threat of stereotype and judgement. In both situations, my own brain was tricking me into feeling like everyone else's opinion mattered but my own. The more I tried to embrace being a fat girl and being a thin girl, the more I was lying to myself.

Then I realized it- I just want to be happy.

At my heaviest, I began running. I promised myself that weight loss was just a side effect of a path to emotional recovery. I began to eat right and I felt stronger and much more motivated about life. With a healthier body came a healthier brain, and my ambition skyrocketed, and I finished my undergraduate degree that I kept putting off due to self induced social anxiety.

I learned a lot about self acceptance through my early and mid 20's. I realized so much criticism we give others is a projection of internal voids in personal fulfillment. I realized the non constructive criticism we give ourselves is just a barrier to becoming the most successful person possible.

I realized how to love myself, and that a huge piece of being a good leader is to pull someone up not put someone down.