All posts by AmberRose

About AmberRose

I am tempted to paste a MadLibs in here....

The Problem with Dating Online

There’s a sickness spreading online.

 It’s not just the hatred polluting people & covering America like a thick smog.
No.

 American Men online are lashing at strangers in an attempt to degrade them into some sort of a relationship.

 This may sound generalised but there is so much truth to the words that I type.

 When I connect with men from other countries, I am never treated the way I am by the American men who respond to my ads or dating profiles.

When I don’t include what I look like in a post I get horrible responses from people about how I am probably a fat ugly cow and they will only talk to me if I include my measurements or show them my breasts. If I include photos, I get responses of “How about a blow job?” or “let’s meet and fuck.”

When I don’t include my political beliefs, I get responses of how I must be a smart sophisticated independent woman who supports Trump. Or I get lashed at by guys assuming I supported Trump.

When I post about my political beliefs, I get called stupid, ugly, whore etc from people for not supporting whatever they support.

When I don’t discuss a career, I get harassed and lashed out at by men who assume I’m on welfare and “living off the system”

 When I do ask about careers I’ve been called a gold digger.

Whatever the complaint, it truly reveals way more about the men responding to me than it ever does about me.

You wouldn’t be happy with whatever I say, because inside, they themselves are truly unhappy.

Misery spreads – it is these men who are destroying opportunities & possible relationships for the few good men still out there. I am not counting the men who feel the need to flaunt & shout from their basement apartments how they are “good guys”

The true good guy never talks about being a good guy because inside he is completely convinced he is a horrible human being. 

“How do you know he is a good guy then” you may ask.

His friends, his family, they all speak about his actions on his behalf. You can see that goodness radiate from his being. It penetrates deep, and sticks with you. 

Those few good men, they grab at your heart & soul,  even from afar – like a strong liquor you swallowed down too quickly. The warmth spreads through out you. Your center feels the licks from the flame.

Yes, there are still a few good men – but they are being overshadowed by those straight white males, behaving like howler monkies, banging on their chests about “alphas”, how women are keeping them down in that pit of despair- all the while forgetting that if it weren’t for that woman who suffered through hours of agonizing labor, they would not be here.

That same woman (or possible some other who is now stuck for life, shackled to his side) cleans his filthy drawers, restocks his mini fridge with sugary drinks & may even work her hands to the bone so he can sleep peacefully with a roof over his head.

For you out there, wondering which category of man you neatly fit under – turn and ask that person sitting beside you. They most likely will assure you that yes, you are one of those few good men.

Only you can truly reflect, look inside yourself & ask – Are they lying?

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Dottie the Polar Bear Cub – a Children’s Story

A while back I posted the first part of a children’s story I wrote. It was written after the death of my grandmother. Unfortunately, she and I were never too close and other than a once a year visit we never spent too much time together. This wasn’t her fault or mine, but was due to my mother who chose to separate herself from that side of our family.

After her death, I knew I wanted to write something in her memory but I didn’t know what animal I wanted to focus on. My family is originally from NYC so I quickly went online to scan through the central park zoo. That’s when I learned that the Polar bear at the zoo was named Ida, the name of my grandma Dot’s twin sister who had also passed.

It felt like a sign.

Please enjoy, Dottie the Polar Bear Cub 💗

Dottie the Polar Bear Cub
Dottie the polar bear cub was completely content. She loved her home. Dottie loved climbing all the rocks. She loved climbing up to the highest point and jumping into the pool of water, making a big splash. Her mommy would get angry whenever Dottie climbed too high, but Dottie didn’t listen.

 It was too much fun!
Dottie also loved her blue ball. She would tackle it, jump on to it, and play catch with her daddy. She loved wrestling with her daddy and climbing on her mother’s back.

Dottie loved feeding time too, because visitors would come into her home. Dottie loved all the humans who came to play.  They usually had treats or toys. Sometimes they would poke and prod at Dottie, but the fishy treats she got afterwards for being a “good girl” always made her happy.
Her habitat also had a giant window. People would come visit, just so they could see Dottie, her mother said.
Dottie loved to make a big show for the people. Especially the little tiny humans that were her size. They wore things over their bodies that her mother said were to keep them warm. The humans only had fur on their heads. Some of the daddy humans had hair on their faces and none on their heads. Dottie thought this was very silly. She would walk up to the big window and make faces, throw her ball, splash the window and just be silly. Sometimes she asked the little humans to come play, but her mommy and daddy said they couldn’t come in.

One day, after Dottie had a big breakfast and lunch and a long swim she decided to walk past the window to see what humans had come to visit that day. She saw that there was no one looking in. This made Dottie sad. She decided that maybe she would go take a nap in the cave with daddy, she after all had a big long morning!
Just then, Dottie heard a knock on the big window. She turned around to see a little human girl stand at the window knocking. But there was something different about this girl. She had something on her paws, something bright and pink!

Dottie quickly ran across the habitat. She had to get a closer look!
Dottie walked right up to the little girl, placed her paws on the glass and called to her.
“Hey! Little human! What is that on your paws?”
The little girl giggled and called to her mommy. “Look Mommy, the baby polar bear likes me!”
Dottie knew that humans had a hard time speaking polar bear, so she tried again.
“Hey, little girl! What’s that on your paws? I like them!”
Dottie’s mother and father stuck there head out of the cave when they heard the commotion. Dottie’s mommy called to her.
“Dottie, come here! Stay away from the people!”
“No,”  Dottie said, disobeying her mother. “I want those! I want to see her paw covers!”

Dottie’s mommy came down from the cave. She circled Dottie to protect her from the crowd that was forming.
“Dottie, sweetie, you don’t need those. Humans don’t have fur or protective pads on their hands and feet. They need to wear those covers, or mittens, on their hands to protect from the cold.”
Dottie’s daddy came down from the cave.
“Dottie, you are a polar bear. We don’t wear clothes. Forget the mittens and come here, it’s nap time.”

Dottie’s mommy and daddy lead her back to the cave.
She laid down in between her mommy and daddy and started to doze. As she fell asleep, she mumbled “We’ll see about that!”
As she slept, Dottie’s dream was filled with mittens. Mittens of every size, shape and color. Some had patterns and textures. In the dream Dottie dove into a pile of mittens, giggling as they flew everywhere.
When Dottie awoke, it was the middle Daisy Lowe the night. Her parents were still fast asleep in the cave. Dottie knew that one way or another she would find herself a pair of mittens!
Dottie knew there was a hole that food was pushed through. It was too small for a grown polar bear, but just the right size for little Dottie to squeeze through!

Dottie pushed herself through the flap covering the hole. It was a snug fit, but with a few wiggles and kicks, Dottie made it through.
Dottie recognized the room right away. This was the place where the zoo keeper gave her shots, and weighed her on a scale. This was also the room with the yummy fishy treats!

Dottie didn’t have time for treats. She was on a mission! Dottie pushed open the door and headed out into the center of the zoo.
She saw the other exhibits that surrounded her. Penguins, seals, even some fish! Dottie walked past all the sleeping mammals, birds, amphibians, and other creatures.

The zoo was quiet at night. Peaceful and beautiful. Every now and then she heard the sounds of the other creatures there.
Suddenly, in the corner of an exhibit, right next to a trash can, she saw it! They were white and red with some blue. They fit perfectly on her paws!
Dottie was so happy with her find. Her midnight search was a success!
Dottie ran back to her habitat as quickly as her little legs and arms would carry her. She snuck back in through the food shaft, climbed up to the cave and snuggled back in between her mom and dad.

The next day the Zookeeper was preparing his walk around the zoo. Every morning he liked to walk around and visit every creature in the zoo. As he was walking towards the Lion exhibit one of the workers ran to him.
“Allen, quick! You need to come to the polar bear exhibit “You’re not going to believe this….”
The zookeeper ran to the exhibit and saw a crowd of people “Oohing and Aweing” over the polar bears. Lights flashed as pictures were taken.
The zoo keeper made his way through the crowd excusing himself as he parted the large group of adults and children in front of the window.
That’s when he saw it.
“Why does the baby polar bear have cups on her front paws?” He asked the polar bear feeder, Bill.
“We don’t know!” Bill said. “We have no idea how she would have gotten ahold them!”
“Well, go take them off, and check the exhibit. Maybe someone was throwing trash in the exhibits.”

Dottie was very upset when her mittens were taken away. She tried to explain to the humans that she wanted them there, that her mittens weren’t hurting her. But the humans didn’t understand polar bear and took them away, calling her a very silly polar bear.
Dottie knew she had to get another pair of mittens.

That night, when her parents were asleep, Dottie snuck out of her habitat for a second time. She wiggled through the food shoot, opened the door and went back to the center of the zoo. Dottie walked farther this time, past the snakes, the lizards, the birds, all the way to the flamingos.
Dottie quickly discovered that flamingos are very smelly. The stench was overwhelming. Dottie sat down and put her paws over her little nose. She looked around searching for mittens.  And that’s when she found it. They were white and red striped. When she stuck them on her paws she could smell something yummy and she got salt on her nose. But they fit perfectly, and that was all that mattered. Dottie was so excited! She quickly ran back to her habitat as fast as her little paws were take her. She pushed through the door, climbed down the food shoot, climbed the rocks to the cave, crawled between her mommy and daddy and fell fast asleep.

The next morning Zookeeper Allen was walking towards the gorillas when Veterinarian Sonja ran to him.
“Allen, come quickly! You have to go see the polar bear exhibit!”
“Oh no, not again!” Allen thought, as he ran to the polar bears.
There was a bigger crowd around the polar bears today. The flashing lights made Allen see spots as he made his way through the crowd.
Allen looked through the window. That’s when he saw it.
“Why does the baby polar bear have popcorn containers on her front paws?”
“I don’t know!” Said Sonja. “I went in to check Dottie’s weight, but she ran from me! We can’t get them off of her, she just runs away!”
“We need to find out how trash is getting into the exhibit. Please make a sign and put it on the window.”
The zookeeper wasn’t convinced that visitors were throwing trash into the exhibit. Allen decided that he would spend the night and watch the polar bears to see how the little cub was getting a hold of all this garbage.

Dottie was very upset that the humans had once again taken away her mittens. Dottie had put up a fight! She ran all over the rocks, yelling to them “No, these are my mittens!” But the humans didn’t understand polar bear. Eventually she was cornered by three caretakers. They grabbed her, took off the popcorn containers, patted her head and called her a “very silly polar bear”
Dottie sulked for the rest of the day in the cave. That night, when her mommy and daddy had finally fallen asleep, Dottie the polar bear snuck out of her exhibit for a third time.

This time Dottie turned left to explore another part of the zoo. She walked past the gorillas, the orangutans, and lemurs. It was hot in this part of the zoo! Dottie knew she couldn’t stay long in this area. She sat down and looked around quickly, trying to find a pair of mittens. That’s when she saw it!
There it was, lying on a bench all by itself. Some little child must have dropped it or taken it off and forgotten to grab it. There on the bench was a small bright orange knit mitten. There was only one and she didn’t really like to color, but Dottie didn’t care! Finally, a proper mitten!

Allen the Zookeeper had been camping out outside of the polar bear exhibit. Imagine his surprise when a baby polar bear strolled out of the backroom of the polar bear exhibit! Instead of grabbing Dottie and putting her back in the habitat, Zookeeper Allen chose instead to follow the little cub and see where she was getting all the trash. Allen kept his distance, tip toeing and staying silent. He followed the cub past the gorillas, past the orangutans and lemurs. Then he finally caught up to Dottie. He found her on the ground, struggling to put an orange mitten on her left paw.

Zookeeper Allen laughed loudly.
“So that’s what this has been about? You want a pair of mittens!” Allen picked up the polar bear cub and carried her back to the back room of the Polar Bear exhibit. He placed her on the ground. Dottie knew she was busted. She quickly slipped into the food shoot. Zookeeper Allen laughed again. He moved a chair to block the shoot and left the room. Allen had to go talk to his wife about a special project.

Dottie the polar bear cub was very sad. Ever since she was caught out of the habitat the Zookeeper and other zoo workers had made sure to block the food shoot every night. The little polar bear had no way of sneaking out of the exhibit at night and her mommy and daddy were keeping a close eye on her during the day. Dottie was no longer happy in her habitat. She no longer played with her blue ball. She no longer climbed up the big rocks and jumped into the pool. Dottie sat in the corner all by herself instead of looking out the big window. Even when daddy wanted to play she would wander off into the cave to sulk.

Allen was worried about the little cub. She wasn’t as active as before. She wasn’t climbing and jumping or playing with the animal handlers.
But Allen knew that he soon would have a special present for the little cub.

The day finally came! The zookeeper knew what a big day it was so he took an announcement out in the local newspaper.

“We are having a party! Come celebrate our beautiful polar bear cub Dottie! We are giving her a wonderful gift, and want you there to help surprise her!”

The crowd was huge outside the Polar Bear Exhibit. There were banners and colorful balloons. There were little humans with their faces pressed against the glass, hoping to spot a polar bear.
Once the clock struck 12:00pm Zookeeper Allen entered the Polar Bear habitat. Using the microphone on his collar Allen spoke to the crowd as Polar Bear handlers made sure that everyone was safe.
Allen walked over to little Dottie who was sitting in a corner.
“Come here” he said quietly, motioning to Dottie. “I have a present for you!”

He placed a red wrapped package in front of her. Dottie approached Allen, and patted at the package. The color was fun, and she liked the crinkle noise. Dottie wrestled with the package while Allen spoke to the audience.

“Dottie the polar bear was born 5 months ago. She was 2 lbs, blind, and yes, very cute. The first time I held her, she couldn’t see yet. I wrapped her in a blanket, and she smiled. I have told this to other zookeepers, who tell me that polar bears can’t smiled. But this little girl smiled.
Our polar bear habitat is very important. We use it to teach the general public about polar bears and their home.

 Currently there are approximately 25,000 Polar bears in the Arctic, but this number is dwindling.  Global warming is affecting the poles twice as fast as it is here. This means that ice is melting earlier and Polar bears are not getting enough food.
Polar bears are clever, and while they are very cute, they are also extremely dangerous in the wild. As you can see, I have many professional handlers around me to help with safety.”

Dottie had almost ripped into the box, so Allen knew he had to hurry along with his story. Zookeeper Allen then told the crowd the story of little Dottie the cub. How for three nights in a row she snuck through a feeding shoot out of her habitat and into the big scary zoo all by herself. But she wasn’t scared. Instead she explored. He told the audience about the soda cups on her paws. They laughed, and laughed even harder when they found out about the popcorn buckets.
And then he got to the end, where he described how he found her, cute little Dottie, wrestling with the orange glove, trying desperately to put on the mitten.

“And today I am very proud to present Dottie the Polar Bear with her very own custom mittens!”
Dottie stopped playing with the box. She saw it. The box had tipped over and something fell out. They were purple knit with silver strands knit through. Dottie was so excited she couldn’t contain herself! She shouted out, which sounded like a grunt to the humans around her. “Mittens! I have mittens!!!!”
She ran in circles, pranced her way to Allen the Zookeeper and pawed at his shoes.
A handler approached the two of them and picked Dottie up.
“Here you go, Dottie,” The Zookeeper said
 Picking up the mittens, he then placed them on her paws. They put Dottie down, and she jumped and pranced and tackled her blue ball. Dottie was happy again.

And from that day on, unless she was jumping into the water, Dottie wore her mittens. As she grew, she was given bigger pairs. The zoo kept all the mittens and hung them in an exhibit that told the story of the clever and silly polar bear. Dottie was forever happy and content. She never wandered out of her habitat again.

The End.

F🐚cked Up Fables – Out of the Woods

The last month I have been working hard on a short story idea. In all honesty, I am running low on steam and could use some encouragement. If you like what you read and would love to read more, please leave me a comment. Feed back is very appreciated 💖
Fcked Up Fables: The Little Mermaid

Fables once occupied the woods, but recently all the property and lands were bought up by large Nonfiction faceless corporations .The families believed they were blessed as they all finally had the income to move out of the forest and into the modern world.

Once the fables joined modern day society a law was passed across the States.

Segregation became common. If you were a fable, you no longer were permitted at state or federal funded public schools. Restaurants, churches and communities were left up to the owners or public debate.

To enter the Storytown School for the Feeble Minded, Women, Insane, Backwards or Fabled

You had to cross a line of screaming protestors. The signs were waved frantically while incoherent slurs and insults were flung.

*They Aren’t Real, They’re Just Characters*

 *Go Back To the Woods!!*

*Leviticus 11:12!!!!*

“If only there were woods to go back to” Ella thought. She passed through the crowd daily, head held high. She stepped proudly, and ignored the screams. That’s when some bastard hit her in the back of the head with an egg.

She spun around, frantic , high tops slipping on yolk from previously missed targets.

“That poof ball on your head was easy to hit, you story trash!!” the man shouted, his face flushed red from exertion.

“I’m guessing that’s the most exercise you’ve gotten in years, Non!!” She shouted.

Ella gripped her books and ran into the school, immediately running for the girls room, to inspect the damage done to her beautiful brown locks.

The sink ran brown, then red and slowly faded to a clear that signaled it may be safe to wash her hands or possibly even her hair.

She took off the small gold crown that held her bun in place.

Ella was once a princess. Look how far she had fallen.

When Ella was 6 her father, a Wealthy man, had fallen ill and passed away quickly one night at his desk. Ella had no other relatives. Her entire inheritance lay in a vault she had no access to until the age of 21. Until she was of age, Ella was in the care of an all girls foster home run by strict nuns. It’s name was the Uglistep House. Ella hated the Uglistep Sisters with all her might.

Ella rinsed egg out of her hair. She wrung out the sections, put her hair back in a bun and placed the crown.

She stared at the mirror, her hands upon the sink.

“This is just for now. This isn’t forever. It will get better.”

A stall opened suddenly which caused Ella to jump.

“Were the herds still BAAAAing?” Mary asked, approaching a sink to wash her hands.

 “One hit me with an egg”

“Oh, they’re throwing produce now? That’s new. Usually my brother gets hit with rocks.”

Mary grabbed a paper towel and rolled it into a ball.

“All I want to do is hit them back, but J.J won’t let me. He says not to stupe to their level. I don’t consider it stuping if they are the ones setting the bar…” She threw the ball into the waste basket.

“J.J is right. You are so much more than this. You could march every single one of those people off a cliff like lemmings. But you shouldn’t , because you are better than that.”

Mary smirked. Her actions at her last school helped to form her reputation at Storytown school.

Once after being bullied by a group of kids for her slightly morbid fashion sense , Mary hypnotized an entire herd of sheep. In their zombified state they followed her to school one day where they proceeded to disrupt every classroom in the building. 

Now Mary wasn’t allowed around farm animals and kept away from large groups of stupid people.

Mary, who’s father was half Fable half NonFiction married her Fable witch mother. Their mixed family wasn’t truly accepted by either Fable or Non communities, making Mary and J.J school outcasts.

As Mary’s hand grabbed the handle, the bathroom door swung open.

Golden locks of curls and not much else, were outlined by the bright morning sunshine streaming through a large window across the hall.

Goldie had her usual crowd of girls around her as she walked in, leading the pack.

While she looked the part of a popular teenage girl, Ella had to remind herself that Goldie was at  THIS school for a reason, and she wasn’t a Fable.

Until the age of 12 Goldie had lived in the forest, raised by whatever wild animals took pity on her.

One day she stumbled upon the log cabin belonging to a polygamist trio of bears.

When PaPa, MaMa, and their lover Baybae came back from their date night, they found their beautiful home in shambles, their fridge raided and a small child piddling in the corner, marking her territory.

PaPa was the first to stop screaming and try to approach the child. He held out cookies, calling out to her while she shook and shivered with fear 

“Here, Goldie, Goldie, Goldie….”

The three bears continued with their usual hip and posh lives. Every night they set the dinner table with a place for Goldie. She hid behind the couch and watched closely.

By day 7 Goldie walked into the room, sat down in a chair, picked up a fork and joined her family.

The Bears watched quietly.

“Oh, look honey! She thinks she’s people….”

The Bears adopted Goldie. While she was kept more like a toy poodle than a child, Goldie loved her new clothes, consistent  supply of food, and expensive life style. While she loved all her dad’s and mom, Goldie clearly was the closest to PaPa who spoiled her often.

The Locks family were one of the first to move from the woods. Goldie’s parents believed it was best for Goldie to grow up surrounded by her culture, stating over and over “It’s the right thing to do…”

Mary and J.J’s dad had fought for weeks with the neighborIng bear family as their property touched. Shouting matches occurred daily over who owned which trees and what roots were connected to which property.

 Mary was happy to no longer live next door to Goldie.

Since the Bears were the first to sell, buildings quickly rose to the sky next to them. Cabin by cabin was replaced with steel monstrosities and belching factories.

J.J’s and Mary’s family held out the longest, but they too signed over their home and moved to the modern world.

Goldie wasn’t in public school for very long. The most expensive clothes in the world couldn’t hide that Goldie still had some serious triggers from her previous animal lifestyle. Bells would send Goldie into a frothing fit. Locker slams caused her to whimper or howl.

Goldie was now a student at the Storytime School under the label “Woman, Insane.” Her money helped her rise quickly in popularity. Girls anxiously waited at the bottom for the hand me down crumbs she scattered.

Weekly visits with the school psychiatrist Dr O’Hare helped to train Goldie. She learned new coping methods. Now at the ring of the school bell the most you saw from Goldie at her desk was a facial twitch. Yes, Goldie sure looked like a normal, popular, rich, pretty girl. Everyone knew different and chose to err on the side of caution.

Mary left the washroom, rather than continuing to stand there viewing the gaggle of make up applying girls and breathing in the fumes of hair spray flying through the air.

As she turned down the hall to class she couldn’t help but stare at the frail girl in the wheelchair, skin blue tinted, pale. Her arms hung low, her entire lower half covered by a grey blanket that had photo realistic legs pictured on the front. A bubbling noise erupted from the tank device attached to the back of the wheel chair . Tubes wound around the girl’s nose and mouth, allowing her to breath in the water on land.

A large Jamaican nurse wheeled the girl everywhere, even accompanied her to class. He was always a few inches away, ready to intervene at the sudden case of a medical emergency. A sudden cough, twitch of the hand, head or arm, sent the tall man into quick action. Having him in the school was often handy. The man acted as a on hand translator as the breathing device, the noise of the bubbles and the girl’s muffled voice accompanied by her severe exhaustion made talking quite difficult.

Mary stared too long, her gaze connected with the red head’s eyes. The large Nurse and the frail girl stared back in silence. The bubbling noise echoed down the hall.

To save herself any more humiliation, Mary hurried by, grunting a polite greeting to them both in passing.

“Hello, Sebastian. Hi iReaeL….”

As she opened the door to her first class, Mary couldn’t help but take one last look.

This was the first aquatic exchange student to enter their school. Her fascination with merpeople was only enhanced by the student addition. She could see the mermaid’s tail poking out from behind the blanket, a trail of wet drips spotted the floor creating a trail that was easy to follow. Mary noticed a fish swimming around the attached tank, seeming blissfully unaware. She pondered the advantages or disadvantages of having a fish swimming in your breathing apparatus. Or perhaps, the fish was a pet.

**********

First of all, her name wasn’t iReaeL. Every student and staff member pronounced the little mermaid’s name wrong. It wasn’t their fault, they were trying so hard to be polite and accommodating. She was the first merperson at Storytown School, it was a great honor! No, the people were not at fault for this error. They assumed her name was strange due to her sea heritage . It wasn’t. The mistake could all be traced back to her first school introduction, her nurse and his ridiculously heavy accent.

The mermaid’s presence hadn’t gone unnoticed . Rumors spread like oil across the top of the ocean. None of the information was accurate or true, just hate filled mutters of ignorant individuals.

The new addition to the signs out front was a scathing insult towards her. This knowledge didn’t slip past the mermaid. While quiet and unable to speak in large coherent sentences, this did not at all limit her intelligence. At just 14 the little mermaid had been at the top of her class. Her thoughts moved quicker than she could express herself on land.

At the discovery of merpeople, devoted religious humans quickly dove down to spread their message of Christ. Having skimmed the reading material, the mermaid had a fascination with the religious beliefs of other cultures, she knew the passage well.

 “Anything living in water that does not have fins and scales is to be regarded as unclean by you”

The little mermaid had both fins and scales. She had gills as well, but that wasn’t mentioned. The passage originally meant that if you followed the religion, you personally, could not eat shellfish.

Hate and prejudice fueled the new meaning, a dirty lie spread by Non-fiction individuals trying to prevent mixed relationships. The old belief that mermaids or mermen all were product of a human sleeping with a fish. Her mother wasn’t a fish!

 

Had her Merman father slept with fish? As The Sea King often said to his daughters’ embarrassment  “Everyone experiments in college…”

She however was a pure blooded mermaid and quite proud. Her mother had died in birth, after laying her giant egg sack, leaving The Sea King to raise his 6 daughters’ all on his own. The sign outside perpetuated a stereotype. Every ignorant person or creature who passed by and read that sign upon entering the school had this information absorbed into their brain. She wasn’t a sophisticated, smart Daughter of The Sea King here. The little mermaid was a half fish- half human unclean handicapped sea monster in their eyes, followed everywhere by a hulkingly large, unintelligible nurse.

The little mermaid couldn’t express any of these complex feelings or thoughts verbally. She had no voice on land.

*********

Age 15 was a magical year in a merperson’s life.

You were legally an adult. You could vote, have access to blowfish and other intoxicants, and as long as your 90 hours of military or community service were complete you were eligible as a land exchange student for 1 year.

The little mermaid had spent her childhood fantasizing, researching and preparing for her time on the surface. Every merperson who returned she hunted down and interviewed. She pried every piece of information from them that she could.

“It was incredible.”

“I was so popular …. Everyone wanted to be my friend.”

“Everything is so different , it was amazing.”

“It takes some adjustment – not for me through, I picked everything up quickly.”

“It’s not for the weak! You have to be prepared for danger at every turn”

There was one thing she couldn’t grasp. Why did they all return?

Since the exchange had first taken place over 60 years ago, not one 15 year old merperson had chosen to stay on the surface. They all returned to the sea.

Everyone had their reason. It sounded like an excuse to her.

Dangerous? What was more dangerous than a shark suddenly appearing on the grade school playground.

Adjustment? She was like water. Every challenge the mermaid faced she smiled through. There was no fear, just excitement and wonder.

And weak. She smiled. Her secret trips to the surface and her last incredible find hadn’t been for the faint of heart.

The little mermaid had found a beautiful treasure sunken down in the deep sand after a huge storm one night. Often after big storms she would sneak out to unoccupied areas in the deep ocean. She would scavenge, keeping track of her archeological finds.

Last one was the biggest item she had ever moved.

A large marble statute had fallen from a ship above. The white and black swirls were beautiful alone. It was the carved face that stopped her, breathless. He was beautiful, the long legs meant he was from the surface. The hair looked as though she could run her fingers through -an amazing effect in solid marble.

She had to have it for her collection.

It took the whole day. The mermaid persisted through the pain. Little by little, she pushed the statue across the sandy ocean bottom pausing only to stop and navigate a safe path or shift towards a new direction. It took hours. The shadows passed above, she could track her time and progress. Finally, the mermaid reached the cave where she hid all of her treasured items.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Well that’s it for ! I truly hope you enjoyed this short walk into the world of Fables 💗

Story Time: My Custody Battle

In VT, 57% of abusers (serious abuse, possibly spent jail time) still have visitation rights and even full or partial custody due to a ruling of “Just because they abused their partner does not mean they will abuse their kid/s”

I am all for equal parenting rights  but those numbers are insane. Imagine having to hand your children over to someone who seriously abused you for a weekend-whole week long.

Terrifying.

He was violent. He would wait for people to be out of earshot or when we were alone to whisper or say horrible, emotionally and mentally abusing things. He would do so in front of our son.

He was in the local sheriffs dept. Often he brought a weapon or asp along to exchanges and would lift his shirt towards my direction or tap the weapon and lock eyes with me.

I was told to be careful what I say around him, to not set him off or start a fight. I started bringing 1-2 people along on the weekly exchanges so I could feel safe. He did everything he could in court to prevent this. Anyone I brought along suddenly had to go through a screening process to be eligible to be at the exchange.

Every horrible dirty thing you could do, he did (bring up depression, indicated I did all types of drugs *I am 100% clean* shaved my child’s head after I payed for hair cuts, every cut somehow was a mark against my parenting even ones that occurred at daycare, he got married secretly within 5 months so his new wife could seek custody, he fought me for custody and visitations then joined the army and disappeared for a year….) It was hell.

No matter what game or dirty tactic was used, I refused to do the same. No matter how much I was angered or hurt by the false accusations, I wouldn’t do the same.

There was in fact a time I stayed silent and shouldn’t have. It is one of my only true regrets in life.

A week before we separated permanently He told me about his depression. He said he was so depressed and numb that he would put the barrel of his gun to his temple…. Pause. Then decide against the action.

I immediately advised that he see a therapist or a psychiatrist. I urged him to talk to my therapist who could possible suggest someone he could see. He walked out and we never discussed it again.

I only ever confided to one friend about this incident. She urged me to bring it up in court. After all, he was attempting to get a judge to release all of my mental health records.

I said no. I fully believe that mental illness, like physical, needs to be treated. It also shouldn’t prevent someone from a relationship with their child (the exception being if the person is a danger to others)

I did not want a moment of weakness during a state of depression to prevent him from a relationship with our child.

I was wrong. I should have said something.

He committed suicide. 

After all that. All that pain, suffering, turmoil, years dragging me through a court room, and he was the one with a substance abuse problem(if you consider marijuana a substance to be abused. I was however worried about his drinking) and serious depression.

It’s been 6 six years and I am still not fully recovered. I also have much love for him as the father of my child, but have none for our relationship as a couple or for the years in court.

Good luck to everyone and your children who may be going through a similar situation. Be strong, don’t play games or seek to hurt your ex partner and always do what’s absolutely best for the child.

Why is Paid Maternity/Paternity Leave Important?

Some people out there don’t know about my son’s rough start.

When G was born early, I had luckily just started my maternity leave, hoping for a month to prepare.  G arrived less than a week later. What a surprise!! My health insurance had finally started, 3 days before.

I had to quit my job because we were then in and out of hospitals with him until G was 3 months old. G couldn’t breastfeed, and I had to stay near by to pump and care for him. Then, we had to go to Boston for a month for G’s open heart surgery, so G’s dad had to leave his job as well (What was he going to do, NOT be with his 3 month old who was having open heart surgery??) We ended up not going home until G was 5 months old.

So there we were, two brand new parents, no income, forced to drain our savings so we could be with our baby while he healed from his surgery. We lived in strangers houses or slept on cots in the parents wing of Boston Children’s Hospital if they weren’t filled. There was a group shower area to use, but I was usually too uncomfortable to use it without Alex, I didn’t even sleep in the woman’s section, at night I would sneak into the men’s cot area and curl up next to Alex. The McDonalds house had no openings and we couldn’t afford a hotel. 

DHMC had the Davids house which became our second home while in Lebanon NH, and they had food we could eat to save money (Chef Boyardi, soups, oatmeal and an insane amount of sweets, cakes and cookies donated from a local BJ Wholesale)

We lived off of food donations to the parents section at the hospital. We spent our days wandering the vast hospitals halls and wings or cuddling with G on a chair and watching hours of tv in between check ins with doctors and nurses.

This is not any easy life. Parents who put their entire lives on pause for the health of their children, they are out there. New ones every day. It is terrifying, lonely, exhausting and amplifies anxieties. The added stress of less or suddenly no income is just the match that lights the dynamite.

Paid maternity/paternity leave is extremely important and would have made a HUGE difference in our lives. This would make a difference in lives across the United States. Now is the time to catch up with all the countries that are so far ahead of us when it comes to the treatment of its citizens. Lets take care of our people who are in need and not discard them during their struggle.

It’s a dark, scary world out there. We will only survive if we all stick together.

Why Mila Kunis Telling Ashton Off Was a War Cry For Parents Everywhere

Today during my usual morning Facebook perusing I read the following article from the Huffington Post.

Click the link below to read the article

Ashton Kutcher Is Learning He Shouldn’t Reward Himself For Basic Parenting Stuff  
Mila Kunis whooping Ashton’s ass about parenting was a war cry for every parent out there struggling through those issues with their co-parent( or lack of) and those who continue to remain silent.

 Many out there fear having this conversation with their partner. 

The article struck a chord with me personally.

 Perhaps I resonate with Mila; I am also a tiny fiery dark haired woman. Perhaps its her intelligence and willingness to speak her mind on such things that should be common knowledge. Both intelligence and common knowledge seem to be lacking lately in the world.

I made the following comment on the Huffington Post article. It seems that many out there have a similar story to mine, or relate to the timidness during hard times, a choice to keep peace rather than fix an issue.

Below is the comment in full:

“Dude, its actually a big deal. Like it shouldn’t be as big a deal and is a huge part of parenting.

I used to wake every 2 hours every night to pump milk for my disabled baby who couldn’t get a latch with breastfeeding due to complications and had to use a haborman feeder.

 Often my baby would wake up right after I was finished pumping and my son’s dad expected me to also do those midnight feedings because hey why not, you happened to be already up.

I fell for it for a while. I then noticed a huge difference in the way my mother in law approached my sons dad when he woke with the baby compared to when I woke up with the baby.

If he actually got up with the baby and left the room to head downstairs, Mother in law was up in seconds to relieve him of the baby and he would crawl back into bed. If I woke up with the baby, the entire house was silent and I was left to handle it all by myself. Mind you, his family is very old fashion and truly believes that moms are supposed to raise the children and care for the entire house as well as all cooking and chores. Having a kiddo with serious disabilities and multiple surgeries, daily physical therapy etc, it takes a huge toll on you. 

Between being a nurse for my son during the day, very little sleep at night and a partner who believed that once he was home from work (he guarded a metal detector while sitting on a chair for a few hours) that clearly he needed a break from the baby and needed to go play video games and hey, why didn’t I get all the house work, laundry or dishes done while he was gone? I mean, its just a baby.

As I am sure you can tell, this relationship ended after a few years.

 Having a partner who is actually willing to be a second parent is a huge deal and needs to be normalized. I was shocked hearing from friends who’s co-parents or husbands would let them sleep through the night because being home with a child all day is exhausting and its extremely hard to accomplish full complete tasks while handling a fussy baby. People who come home from hard work, or from a grocery shop, errands etc and understand that their time away was a break from the baby and now its their turn are absolutely amazing 💖

Lets normalize that behavior.”

I Dated a Schizophrenic

I dated a friend who was diagnosed as a schizopath. 

I did not know this until 3 months in and even then he told me he was a diagnosed schizophrenic but that he wasn’t really, he was being gang-stalked for being the grandson of Whitey Bulger. 

Then Aliens started communicating with him along with his ancient Viking “blood relative” who referred to himself as Redbeard.
Within a year I knew I needed to get out of the relationship, because he was never going to get better if I was still in his life. 

It took 4 years and a restraining order after a violent outburst to get him to leave.

I hope he is getting better and is doing well. I hope he has stopped using his medications incorrectly and stopped using various drugs. 

I hope he is treating his wonderful, amazing parents the way he should be treating them. I hope he is being honest with his therapist and psychiatrist.

 I hope that his mental illness is never a badge that prevents him from doing great things and having a career.

I also hope he is as far away from me as possible.

How I Lost 80lbs Without Dieting

Being more active. Seriously. That is it. No miracle diet, not staying away from gluten or fatty foods. No crazy surgery or stomach stapling.

All I did was be honest with myself and seek help from a competent physician.

There is absolutely no secret to weightloss. I was someone who spent years battling weight gain with every possible diet plan or program from Atkins to Weight Watchers. I popped more brands of diet pills than I can name. I watched every calorie and fat content that entered my body.

Yet I still couldn’t lose that weight.

Finally, I found an endocrinologist who listened to me. After blood work, I discovered that I not only had a thyroid disorder but poly cyctic ovarian syndrome, which causes a band of weight around the stomach that just wont leave. With the help of the correct medications and an increase in activity the weight finally started to come off, almost like magic.

I moved to a home off the grid. Walking down and up our insane hill that the show the Biggest Loser could use as a challenge was hard. Very hard. Swearing under your breath and cursing every damn thing within eyesight hard. It still feels impossible every time I climb it and yet I still make it to the top, exhausted every time.

Lugging and chopping wood helped increase my activity level as well. Try lifting a container of 8+ logs of wood 4 times a day and you will see a difference!

I went to a physical therapist and learned stretches and exercises that targeted the areas on my body that needed more help. Any time I find myself doing absolutely nothing I do one or two of these stretches.

I noticed certain foods caused my body to be more swollen and puffy looking. I learned to stay away from soda and fast foods or to throw in an extra work out if I indulged. I also learned that indulging in correct portions of those foatty or sugary foods I craved is ok as long as I kept up with my exercise routine. Eat two oreos and put the package away. Buy a smaller bag of chips so you aren’t tempted to eat it all in one sitting.

I became stronger, happier, was in less pain and went from having type 2 diabetes to not being even pre-diabetic. I loved my body, no matter the weight, instead of the hatred I had felt since my teen years.

The whole experience was life changing.

For those of you reading this, looking for a miracle. I will leave you with this.

Be honest with yourself. Do you eat as well as you should? Do you go for a second, third or even fourth helping? Food was never my issue and it took a long time to find a doctor who (doctor who, hehe) would listen to what i was sayong and believe me when I told them I ate healthily. 

If the portions and type of foods you eat are healthy and you still can’t lose that weight, increase your activity levels. Again, be honest with yourself. Are you active enough or are you more of a couch potato? Its ok to be a potato but try keeping some hand weights next to where you watch TV. At every commercial, see how many crunches, squats, or reps you can do before the show comes back on. Don’t eat snacks while you view your shows, instead lift those weights and see if there is a difference.

If you’re eating healthy and remaining active and STILL can’t shed the pounds, please go to your physician and discuss this. If your doctor doesnt listen, find someone who will. Don’t give up until you have someone who listens to you. You and only you are your best advocate. Part of loving yourself is using your voice and seeking the medical help that your body needs to be in the best condition it can be.

Love yourself, love your body and every inch and pound. You will lose that weight. Just be honest with yourself.

Cutting Those Cords

One of my biggest struggles in life – Helping out everyone and anyone I can and eventually getting seriously fucked over. It is way past time for me to realize that there aren’t too many like me out there – The people who put themselves second, the people who are struggling to make ends meat and still donate, clothe and feed the homeless, broken and wounded.

I once had a guy friend who told me one of my bigger faults is seeing the beauty and love in everything and immediately trying to help – “and that’s why you get screwed over” he said, blowing smoke from his mouth.
Many years later this “friend” would lie on the witness stand in an attempt to help my ex win custody of our son instead of splitting custody. My ex who then passed away suddenly, but I digress. The entire situation was eye opening and taught me to be much more on guard.

When you live on a path of magic, you forget that others out there don’t feel the same. They don’t care about helping those in  need and only reward themselves or those who they feel are “deserving”

Heck, one of my biggest struggles with the witchcraft community is the mass of fake practitioners – They don’t care about making the world a better place. They don’t care to help those who are in dire need. They only do magic to make their own lives better and usually don’t think twice about using magic as a weapon instead of a tool. Just because someone walks the path of the witch does not mean they actually care about any living thing but themselves.

The hardest person in my life to seperate from was always my mother.  Between, the abuse, the insults, the irrational behaviors – I always desperately clung to the hope of having some sort of connection. I tried music, films,  even approached from an angle of her interests, not mine. No such luck.

There was however one common ground – My mother spent hundreds of dollars on psychics, tarot readers, people who took photos of your eyes up close to see your future (I got a nifty photo of my eyeball out of the experience)
pet psychics, purchasing spells from online wiccans, even aura cleansers who would unblock your every obstacle for the low price of $400 an hour.

I would open my mother’s closet and find male and female candles covered in oils, or jar candles with photos of Tarot cards on the outside.

“Mom, why are practicing witchcraft?”

She would look shocked and disgusted at me, stammer about how this isn’t magic – her tarot reader or psychic guide had advised this!

I held onto that hope that this was our connection.
As I grew up and started reading cards professionally some of my mom’s psychic guides started to do exchanges with me. They were clearly impressed but I couldn’t win my mother over with my skills or knowledge. Some went on to ask to take me under their wing, but I didn’t feel ready.

Then I learned yet another hard lesson –
Just because someone walks a similar path as you (In my case, Witchcraft) does not mean they have the same goals, opinions, ethics, or understanding.

I have always been a solo practicing witch. I use magic to help those around me who ask or are in need. I put clauses (Seriously, if you are a practicing witch and have yet to add a “clause” to your magic- HIGHLY recommend) in spells that would make them inactive if it would have caused harm to a friend, family or loved one in any way because I absolutely don’t want to bring any more pain into this world, and all those tiny threads connect in bizarre and often unseen ways. I do the same type of clause in my protection spells so they aren’t suddenly set off or activated on the wrong person. And when they go off on the right people, (anyone purposely sending harm towards me, my family, animals and loved ones) BAM – Instant. You’re fucked, and most likely three times worse.

So, I think it’s time for me to go back to my magic, which while solitary, always leads me where I am needed and away from those who are dangerous for me to be around.
We all have unhealthy relationships or connection s in our lives. You, who have taken the moment to read this, also have people in your lives – those connections you absolutely need to sever- should have severed years ago, please do. Lift that weight from your shoulders and cut your chains. Stop seeking or expecting approval, love, affection, kindness from people who don’t deserve you.

Yesterday, I did something that has been brewing for 30 years. I finally severed the cord with my mother. I made it clear that if she had nothing helpful or kind to say or do, she could stay away permanently. It was hard, it was exhausting. It needed to be done.

I will leave you with one of the absolutely most important rules in Witchcraft –

“An it harm NONE – Do what ye will”
Most witches see this as golden ticket, an opportunity to do whatever they want as long as they aren’t “harming”

I view it differently. I see it as a path – a life where in every action you take, you do your absolute best to not cause pain, to not cause harm and misery. To not torment or hate, including yourself. Take a moment and pause before your actions. Go through a list in your head – Will this action/spoken or thought words/ or hell even taking the “passive” stay out of it stance hurt someone or something around me?
Will it help make things for someone, something, or the world better?
Really visualize those scales in your head, see and feel those cords and connections and see where it leads. And then, decide.

My Mom Hates Steve Buscemi

Hate may be too strong of a word. But there has always been a certain dislike.
I have always been a fan. From the smaller roles like in Big Daddy or one of my absolute favorites, Ghost World, Steve Buscemi absolutely has talent. The work he did after thr twin towers fell was incredibly selfless and brave. My mom however, does not feel the same.

Growing up, any time Steve appeared on screen, my mom would make a small *tsk* noise or say “Oh look, its Steve”
She seemed to avoid movies he was in and complain whenever I brought him up.
Then once I made an absolute horrible mistake. A few years after my parents divorce I absidmindely said
“Hey mom, have ever noticed that dad looks like Steve Buscemi in a Weird Al Yankovic wig and glasses?”
She exploded.

My mom has always been a very independant woman. While our relationship is complex -at best, I wouldn’t be the strong woman that I am today if I hadn’t learned from her.  She taught me how to handle customer service representatives in a way that I have never seen elsewhere. She is that person who will keep argueing until she absolutely gets what she needs. My mom will reward amazing service and argue to the death when given poor service.
Whenever she is challenged by a male authority figure she always says the same phrase,
“He was an ass!”
My mom taught me all of my sales skills. She used to take me on the road with her when I was young, and I got to see her sell all types of natural products, suppliments, and vitamins. I got to see all of new england and some other states as well if she was flying somewhere. Her territory has always been large and her independance shines through. It was also some of the only time we could spend together as she was often gone for a week or more at a time.

My mother grew up in New York and majored in Opera with a minor in Guitar. She always encourage my sister and I when it came to music, theater or art in my sisters case.
Quite a few of my moms high school and college friends went on to be in the entertainment industry. She always told us about a friend who was in the movie Into Thin Air and another who around last year has produced a show about making wedding dresses on TLC (I tend to ignore that reality stuff but my mom was thrilled)

So last year when I was talking about Steve Buscemi and his work on Portlandia, I heard words come out of her mouth that I had never heard before “I went to Highschool with Steve. I was two years below him…”
I was floored! I had so many questions. Why hadn’t this EVER come up in the last 29 years?
“Wow, what was he like?”

‘He was an ass.”