because I have no mountain.
I am an extremely passionate person. I have a hard time letting things slide, especially if I find something to be unjust. Tireless cheerleader for the underdog, that's me! And lately, I have been putting in some serious over time.
See, that is what is so great about the internet, and blogging. You can paint yourself any way you want. You can say anything! Be the person you mostly are, just without the nasty bits. Good god, I wish I could pull the trigger. I wish I could go into full blog-world delusion. Maybe we'd even make a few bucks. Gahhhhhh.
But, as we all know, the truth always comes out. So, I try to go with it as often as I can. That stuff about being passionate, yeah, that's kinda true. Tireless cheerleader, sort of...... Honestly though, I am just a total fucking hot head. I have a short fuse, and if you do something that I find to be in poor taste, threatening, or that compromises the happiness of another human, well, you're going to hear about it. Unfortunately for any offending party, during those situations I rarely remember to turn off my asshole switch. To bad for you. However, I do try to choose my battles wisely. The problem for me is, those times when the chances of me snapping completely, and going into a full on Bruce Banner tantrum seem to be steadily on the rise as of late. Which leads me to my current fixation.
The frequency with which we browse through shared articles and "like" the content within is sometimes staggering. I am sure we all have our own personal microcosms, given our specific groups of "friends", where we spout off our little agendas back and forth. For me, it's usually either a heated debate about the legitimacy of carving out yet another genre of Metal, pictures of animals I will never own, or total full-on parents only soapboxin'. The parent talk is what always gets me going nowadays. That is when I start to fear for the safety of the keyboard in front of me, and the ears of anyone close enough to hear me. I wish I could turn it off and leave it be, but I can't stop reading. I have to continue to remind myself that there are actual people in this world that believe that they have a better idea of who/what my child should be, than my child does! Totally fucking crazy, I know. But it's true!
Until recently, I never really took much stock in 90% of these stories being true. I looked at them more like those "Wal-mart greeter sticks it to a rude customer" kind of stories. You know the ones, the kind that are most assuredly based on a real life situation, but with non-cringe worthy grammar, and the added bells and whistles of the snappy comebacks that the author wishes they had thought of in the heat of the moment. Because, who doesn't like a feel-good hero story?! Even though they are most definitely fictitious accounts, I still like to read them and say "I am glad I never have to deal with that shit". See, there's that delusion again. Sooner or later, you have to acknowledge that even made up assholes are still rooted in truth.
Only one day following a rather emotional read (that also took place in a Wal-Mart, coincidentally), about a little boy being publicly berated by some psychotic redneck, I got to actually see it all play out in real life. Albeit, in a much less forceful and slightly less dramatic way. Trust me when I say, that didn't make it any easier to digest. Thankfully for everyone, I was not there to actually witness the event. I really don't know what I would have done, had I been present. I play these scenarios out daily in my head, to try and keep myself sharp for anyone foolish enough to challenge my children's curiosities, or their own ideas of who they are. Which, during a recent encounter in a checkout lane, was obviously too much for a certain narrow minded cashier.
Lately, being who F chooses to be means lots of rainbows and anything full of color. If you are lucky enough to meet him, you would see that this decision seems more than logical. He is bright, inquisitive and totally open to anything. He is an open book, with no preconceived ideas of how anyone or anything should be. A total free spirit. If we could all be so lucky. If he wants a tie-dyed rainbow backpack, he gets one. If he wants to paint his nails, we paint them. We let him make his own choices, because he is entitled to them. No strings.
I think the real reason I intentionally continue to read all this anger inducing fluff, is that I want to make the right choice when it comes down to actual real life situations. Because inevitably, it will. I want to be a good example to him when some jackass makes a comment that something he enjoys is "only for girls". It would probably serve me well to plan these things out, rather than run solely on impulse. I need to remind myself that my need to make these people pay for their archaic ideas is not so much a political stance, as it is a belief that there is really only one way to truly be happy in life. Call me corny if you want to, but that's the truth. What makes me want to scream at them is not because they think he is "gay" or that we are pushing some sort of "liberal hippie agenda". It's not about any of that. It is because they are totally missing the point. Think about life without labels. Think about a life where there is no god, or freaked out rednecks judging you for loving what you love naturally. That is the epitome of being happy, and not so coincidentally, a child. I am not trying to say that we should not shelter our children from the evils of the world, that would be naive. All I am saying is that, should you choose impose your own ideas of evil on them, you are about to have a most unpleasant experience.
Childhood is untouchable, and so it should remain.