How to Say No - Lesson 1

He will not hate you if you say no - unless he's a jerk and in that case you don't want him anyways.

They say you can't change someone, but I am not sure that is true.  I've seen women quickly mold themselves into who they think their man wants.  Maybe it would be more accurate to say you can't change a man.

I am not talking about only sex, ladies, though it is extremely important to be able to say no to sexual activities.  He started dating you because of who you were without him.  He must've seen something in you that he liked before you molded yourself into what you think he wants.

Relationships are about compromise - both of you.  If he wants pizza again and you don't - say so.  If he wants to see that scary movie and you absolutely don't - say so.  Odds are, if he is asking you what you want, then he wants to know.  I am no expert in men, but in my experience it is the woman that expects the "correct" answer not the man.  Generally, I think, if he doesn't care, he won't ask.

What bothers me the most is clothing.  I think it is a gross abuse of power when the man tells the woman what she can or cannot wear.  I think this is the hardest time for a woman to say no.  You want to look good for him.  You want him to think you are pretty, but clothing is truly a personal expression.  I am not talking about when you put on that top that shows all your cleavage to go to his parent's house.  He says no, and, well, maybe you should change.  But if you are wearing something appropriate and he just doesn't like it, say "No.  This is what I am wearing."

You mustn't lose yourself in your relationship.  You must be confident enough to say no and to hear it.  There were a lot of problems with my marriage, but saying no was not one of them.  I want to help you learn to say no.  You are wonderful and beautiful and you do not need to change yourself for him.

Life As Eye See It

Have you visited Eyegirl?  Well, go over to Life As Eye See It today, she is on vacation and I am guest posting over there!  I'll show you around my favorite little city!

I Love You Every Day

Happy Mother's Day!

With that said, I hate fucking made-up holidays.  I hate the pressure society puts on you to celebrate your mother on the second Sunday in May.  What if you are planning a bridal shower, vacation, and wedding in the next month and don't necessarily have the money today?

I think the Jehovah's Witnesses have it right.  They do not celebrate holidays.  They celebrate every day.  That is how it should be.  If I didn't have these standards imposed on me by Hallmark, I would give gifts and cards when I wanted to.  It wouldn't be as weird to take Mom out for dinner and cake in August.

Ryder came home from school Thursday with a gift he made me.  I put it aside to open it today, but then I was thinking, why am I waiting?  Who cares the date I am given the gift?  It was wonderful even though i opened it Friday.  Actually, I think it is the nicest gift I have ever received.

It's not just Mother's Day or Valentine's Day or Bunker Hill Day.  It is everything.  Christmas.  A lot of people celebrate Christmas on a day other than the 25th and that is always strange.  Why?  Jesus wasn't even born in December. 

I guess what upsets me the most is that I expect today to be something special because it is Mother's Day.  I don't know what exactly it reminds me of, but it reminds me how sad I am.  I realize that just because Hallmark says it is supposed to be this sacred day, it isn't.  It is just another day.  The dog still needs to be walked, dinner still needs to be made, the shopping still needs to be done.

Tolerance vs. Acceptance

tol·er·ance –noun
1. a fair, objective, and permissive attitude toward those whose opinions, practices, race, religion, nationality, etc., differ from one's own; freedom from bigotry.
2. a fair, objective, and permissive attitude toward opinions and practices that differ from one's own.
3. interest in and concern for ideas, opinions, practices, etc., foreign to one's own; a liberal, undogmatic viewpoint.

ac·cep·tance n.
1. The act or process of accepting.
2. The state of being accepted or acceptable.
3. Favorable reception; approval.
source

If I say that I tolerate something, I feel like I am implying that I do not like the something.  That it has a negative connotation.  That I am permitting it to continue out of the goodness of my heart.  If I wasn't feeling so generous, I would put a stop to it.  But I preach tolerance.  I wish people could just tolerate one another.  Maybe they could just not kill each other.  That would be good.

I never think of tolerance like that, though.  I say that I am extremely tolerant, but perhaps i should say accepting.  Wouldn't it be nice if i had to preach acceptance?  If everyone tolerated each other, then the next step would be to accept one another.

I thought about this because I was thinking about people who are not tolerant of others.  People who can't accept small differences in opinions, such as whether pit bulls are dangerous or whether people who dislike Phish are retarded or not.  Whether using the word retarded is grounds for lynching.  People have such strong opinions that any one who thinks differently is a complete idiot.  I feel like I am very opinionated, passionate, and right.  But even when I know I'm right, I realize that the other person has had different experiences.  They grew up with a different set of values.  Perhaps they hate pit bulls because they have been bitten.  Maybe they love them because they breed them.

It really boggles me why people cannot tolerate each other.  Gay marriage.  Even if you believe that homosexuals are the devil incarnate, why do you care if they are allowed to wed or not?  I suppose people believe that these different people are somehow affecting their lives.  Illegal immigrants are stealing our jobs and selling drugs to our children.  God will send a plague of locusts if we allow homosexuality to continue.

I will teach my son to accept all people no matter how different they are.  Even Republicans.

Memories

Memories are funny things.  I went to a seminar wednesday about the biology of memories and the role of Capase 3, which I will not bore you with, but it got me thinking.  Sometimes the memory is clear and sometimes it is not and that is independent of whether it is a real memory or not.  For example, I remember very clearly watching the Challenger explosion in third grade.  I know it was third grade because I remember the room.  But the Challenger exploded January 28, 1986.  I was five.  I was in Kindergarten in a different state.  Maybe I remember watching the Discovery being launched September 29, 1988?  Maybe I associate it with the Challenger because it was the first flight since then.  I don't know.  Maybe we were watching a movie.

Anyway, you see my point.

I have always believed that my first memory is of my first panic attack.  Of course, I didn't know that it was a panic attack until many many years later, but I always kind of used it as a turning point in my life.  Before that attack and after.  I always kinda felt as if my memory was wiped clean in that moment, that is why I don't remember anything before it.  Or perhaps that is false too.  Maybe it is not my earliest memory, but just a very clear early memory.

Recently my mom has been saying that things we remember as children didn't happen.  Thankfully there are four of us children, so when our four stories match and she says we're lying, we know it is her.  Makes me wonder, though, if she doesn't remember, if she doesn't remember correctly, or if she is just plain lying.

I know that sometimes your mind makes you forget unpleasantness.  I'm sure I don't have to tell you.  I don't remember most of my son's birth.  I've read that your brain does this so that you will have children again, because, God knows, if I remembered how much that hurt, really, I'd surely never want children again.  I also do not remember what happened when the car hit our house.  I remember tiny snippets, like thinking my ex was dying and my dad yelling at the driver to turn off his engine because the house was filling with exhaust.  I remember the driver apologizing and me not giving a shit.  But that is about all.  No one was hurt, but it damaged the house so much that every time we look at it we are reminded.

Sometimes all you can remember is the unpleasantness.  I was with my ex for 7 years.  We were happy for most of it, I think.  God knows I don't remember when.  I sure as hell remember the bad shit though.  I wish I could remember some of the good times, too.

The last memory I want to share is a memory that I have no idea why I retained.  I was young and on a bus with my Nanna.  The bus was tilted, so we must have been on a hill.  I remember looking out the window and seeing grass.  That is it.  Just that moment.  I don't know where we were going or coming from.  I have no idea if this is even a real memory, because why would I remember it?  It was nothing special.

Depression

When good things happen and you don't give a shit.

When your friends are there for you and you don't know how to accept their help.

Dave Sings to My Soul