Booze: Part I

(I decided to write the following as a precursor to a commentary I'll soon be writing on the Straight Edge and how it affects my relationships with others.)

I've been Straight Edge for nearly seven years. I was a non-drinker for eighteen years before I chose to imbibe. My time as a drinker spanned my half of my freshman year and entire sophomore year of college -- a fairly short span within the bigger time line of my life, but an important span given the point in my life at which it came.

I didn't drink in high school because I didn't see the point of it. A lot of kids seem to think that "because I can" is a good enough reason to do things like that, but I never got that. Also, I respected my mom too much to do something that I knew would have disappointed her. We never had any alcohol in the house when we were growing up, so it seemed unnatural that I would want to pursue it outside of the house as I got older. I guess it was an unknown thing, on some levels, which I was fine leaving alone.

I started drinking in college because I got tired of telling my friends "no" when they'd ask if I wanted to "party" with them. Also, alcohol became less of an unknown once I got to college. I became something in which I have no explicit interest, but which I really couldn't escape given my living environment and the people with whom I spent my time.

My first drinking experience was odd. My friend Tim asked if I wanted any alcohol for the night. Initially I declined like normal, but later talked myself into thinking that I might as well go for it. I didn't know what I should drink, though. Tim bought me vodka and orange soda, which I mixed and drank from the two-liter soda bottle. Not a very manly drink, I guess, but what did I know?

It's important to note at this point in the story that although I've since turned my back on vodka and alcohol in general, I still love orange soda. That's probably not actually important to note, but I thought I'd throw it out there. Orange soda is my preferred drink when I choose to gamble. This is because casinos distribute soda for free and orange soda is not something I generally drink on a regular basis. Hence, it's novelty when gambling. I haven't been to a casino in five years, though, and don't plan on returning to one anytime soon. Perhaps I should find a new and different event with which I might associate orange soda.

Anyway. I got drunk on vodka and orange soda and started feeling all funny like drunk people do. I remember thinking "hey, this feels sort of weird, but I still don't really see the big deal." My friends all thought it was awesome that I was drunk, though. They made this point repeatedly the next day. It was the first time I was really able to participate on a non-observatory level in the "on man, I was so wasted last night" conversation which happens over 1pm lunches the day after a group of college dudes drinks together. So that felt sort of rad. So then I decided that I should keep drinking.

I should point out that I never drank after that because I enjoyed the taste of alcohol. I drank only to get drunk. I still didn't see the point of drinking otherwise. I have the sneaking suspicion that most college kids don't actually see the point of drinking, but that they make drunkenness the "point" in order to justify their choices. There is no point, really, but they create one because they don't have the sack to go against the norm. At least I was normal in that regard, I suppose. It's probably one of the last times I was "normal" in relation to the people in my social circle. I've generally been the outlier in one regard or another since then.

I decided to stop drinking because I grew up and realized that I had no real reason to drink. I remember sitting around a fire at my friend's house one night during the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college and drinking a lot of alcohol. I didn't feel drunk, though, and I was angry that I wasn't drunk. So, I stopped drinking for the night. Thinking over it the next day, I was sort of angry with myself for being so angry about not being drunk the night before. What right did I have to be mad about not being drunk when I didn't even really like alcohol in the first place? So then I decided that I should stop drinking entirely.

Some people have alcohol abuse in their families. Others have very traumatic experiences with alcohol which make them choose not to drink. My choice was not necessarily driven by either of these things (though both have inspired my decision to remain Straight Edge). More than anything, I guess my choice become Straight Edge was a result of my acknowledgment of the fact that I had been illogically choosing to drink for the two years leading up to my sobriety. It's one of the few "a-ha" moments that I can point to in my life and definitively say that I was more mature after that moment than before (in my own perception, anyway).

So now I'm Straight Edge and I will be until my life is over.

Hence... Stay Gold.

MMK

Silence.

I don't remember the last time I was this thankful for peace and quiet. The last 24 hours has been memorable but not enjoyable.

The three of us have been trading germs and fighting off the cold for the last week or so. Poor Norah has had a snot fountain for a nose the last 4 or 5 days. MK and I thought she was getting better. Last night we went through the normal bedtime routine, and Norah went down for the night without a fuss. However, much to our surprise, she woke up a couple hours later screaming. Most of you know...this is not normal for our little one. Norah will usually go down for the night around 7:30 and not wake until around 4:00 in the morning for a feeding. MK and I went in to console her. Norah's face was flushed and when I put my head against hers to snuggle I knew she had a fever.

Anyways, to make the story short, we are blessed to have a doctor who gives out her cell phone number to first time parents. She was very reassuring and calmed my nerves. The three of us didn't get much sleep last night. Norah would scream every time we tried to lay her down so for the first part of the night, we held her while she slept. Then we got smart and pulled the car seat out of the car. I'd say we are running on about 3 - 4 hours of sleep. Eeek. But we were able to take Norah to the Urgent Care Clinic this morning - she was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection and an ear infection. Nothing too serious, but she's now on an antibiotic to hopefully clear up the ear infection. So I'm hoping...no, scratch that...I'm praying tonight is a better night (so far, so good).

Other news? MK and I aren't too great at waiting until Christmas to give/open presents. Per MK's suggestion, I opened up a present tonight. He got me a sweet new pair of kicks. Perfect for work! Thanks hubbs, you're the best!

Work is going great. My boss is super nice, I've connected with my shift co-worker, the tasks are easy, and the hours allow me to be a mom. What more could I ask for? I still struggle with the fact I'm not really using my degree or adding a ton of money to our savings account...but I know where I'm at right now is exactly where I'm suppose to be. And that, is such a great and welcomed feeling.

Oh, and the silence tonight is not only from Norah (actually) sleeping but is also from the residents being on winter break! HOORAY! I LOVE this time of year! Hubbs & Norah...get ready for massive amounts of family hang out time! :o) I'm excited for our first Christmas as a family of 3! We will definitely post pictures.

I'll leave you with one of me and the babe. I love her so much.

Warm Clothes

The recent downturn in temperatures here has us bundling up and trying to stay warm. It's also made Norah a snotty, cold-ridden mess. We've begun to employ her fleece winter sleepers during the night.

Great-grams Mabon sent this one last year after she found it at a post-Christmas sale. It's sized at "12 Months." Oi. Norah's huge...


A warm sweater made by Norah's Great Aunt Marcia:


Good stuff. You're all so appreciated for all of the things you have made and given us for Norah. Thanks for being such blessings to the three of us.

Stay Gold!

MMK

i am not a public display

The following was written by a good friend of ours:

"i received a text the other night from a friend telling me how Taylor Ryan, the tattoo artist working on my left sleeve, will be coming back to Iowa so i could make an appointment to get worked on. Over the past couple months i've sat down with company reps and discussed body modification with my boss and decided i wanted to turn my 3/4's sleeve into a full sleeve and continue it onto my arm, seeing as body modification is pretty accepted in my career, that is by most companies, but maybe not so many clients.

Two years ago i stepped foot into a tattoo shop not realizing that the minute i decided to tattoo my skin i would be losing complete freedom of my body. I cannot count the number of times i have had random strangers grab and twist my arms into positions they do not bend. I also do not enjoy the quiz questions i get that go along with my piercings and tattoos...."do they hurt"...i mean it is a needle so yes..."how long did it take"...i don't know i didn't time them..."how much did it cost"....quality not quantity...."do your parents know"...yes...."do they approve"...it's my body i don't quite care...etc, etc. I really love the question "does your mother accept the way you look", not realizing that i can't even tell you what my mother looks like, but as awkward of a question that is, i will purposely make my response just as awkward in hopes of making that person feel just as little as they tried to make me.

I really, REALLY, do not like when someone asks me to show them my tattoos. I do not ask to see you naked, or to take your pants off, or to lift up your shirt. my tattoos are apart of me, they are permanent. I cannot take my arm off of my body, and i cannot remove the ink that lays upon my skin, therefore i have the right to not show off my tattoos. my body is my body and i am not a public display for anyone to look at, twist in odd positions, and gawk over. favorite example of personal space, i bent over one day to pick something up, i had a lady say "are those hands?"...yes, i have a pair of butchered hands that are on my lower back and bleed onto my ass. after i told her that she proceeded to pull my pants down and lift up my shirt, HELLO PERSONAL SPACE. my ass is my ass, and i do not have any intentions of showing it off, especially not to some random asshole lady who cannot keep her hands off me in public. Of course, if i were to yell or swing i'd be a terrible person because those covered in tattoos are either thugs, drug dealers, drug addicts, sluts, demon possessed, or criminals. I'd love to tell someone who calls me a terrible person for my appearance that i am happily sober and drug free and i did not get my tattoos in hopes of finding men and i do not steal or so i sacrifice animals of any kind, thank you.

It is 2009, i feel as though it is quite sad that my appearance and the appearance of others with body modification can be "offensive". It is also sad that racism, sexism, homophobia, and all forms of prejudice still exist in 2009, but that's a whole different rant and story.

end of rant."

I can relate to the rant. I, too, have lost count of how many people have grabbed and twisted my arm just to see all of my tattoos. At one point, I even had an elderly woman grab my shirt and pull it down just to see more of my chest piece. AWKWARD. I felt so uncomfortable I don't even remember what she said to me...I just wanted to get away from her.

It's funny - most of the time I forget I have tattoos. As mentioned in the rant, the tattoos I have are on my skin, and they have truly become apart of me and who I am. When people point them out, I'm like, oh yeah...that.

Why have I chosen to be tattooed? A few different reasons I suppose...
1) I personally find them attractive or as Marshall would say aesthetically pleasing.
2) I value the opportunity to "wear" my faith. But don't be confused - this is more for me than for those who observe my art...but then, doesn't that benefit those around me?
3) To hold fast to my choices, decisions, and commitments. I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am an Iowan. I am a child of God. I am drug free.
4) I enjoy art. And I'm honored to have met such great artists (well, minus one...but that's another story for another blog).

Anyways. You don't have to like tattoos or agree with my decisions, but please...just respect me and my body.

Please and thank you.

Seven Months

Norah turned seven months old a couple of days ago. As is our custom, we took some birthday photographs...

Reading what it's all about:


Waving to people back home:


Annnnd losing it entirely:


It was a solid day overall, I'd say.

If you can't tell from the pictures, she's looking more and more grown up every day. She sits up on her own, can turn around while sitting without falling over very often, picks things up, intentionally reaches for and rolls to get to things she wants, babbles to herself, mimics sounds we make, and laughs a lot. Still no teeth, but she's eating all sort of soft foods and baby cereals. I processed some green beans the other day and she's been eating one or two bean cubes with some apple sauce for her nightly meals lately. We're trying to get her to drink water out of a sip cup instead of a bottle, but she's yet to take too heartily to either the cup or the water without any formula. All in due time, I suppose.

More pictures from the past week:







That's it for now. You're welcome America.

Stay Gold,

MMK