
Why is courtesy the first thing jettisoned in intimate relationships? Is it the dynamic of the thing itself which fosters it, or do we simply feel safe enough to behave like complete idiots?
I have often wondered why politeness is reserved for strangers, but not extended to loved ones. It is the daily grind whose gears require greasing; so why hold out? Do we honestly expect the mechanism to run if it’s not properly tended?
If we do, then we know as little about loving relationships as we do car mechanics… which tends to explain why we’re more devoted to our vehicles than to each other. I suppose it’s easier to love an inanimate object, no matter how broken down and unreliable, than one who habitually criticizes your wardrobe, table manners and take-home salary.
Then again, if confronted with a beligerent stranger, would you just as readily acquiesce to their demands? Of course not. You’d tell them to mind their own affairs and butt out of yours.
So why do we lie down and take it from those who’ve promised to love, protect and cherish us? Shouldn’t they be our greatest champions? All things being equal, we only share our life with others; we are not beholden to them. There is no good reason to tear apart the person you love most just because you’re in a bad mood.
Yes, we all have rotten days that challenge us to the nth degree, but that does not give us license to indulge in willful and juvenile behavior. If you find yourself angry enough to belittle your companion, perhaps the person with whom you are truly disgusted is yourself. It’s said that we are all but mirrors to one another; if this is true, then acts of incivility do not end with tears from our partners, but tears from our own eyes.






I absolutely did not want to get out of bed this morning, being caught up in a dream so vivid and sensual that I wasn’t sure where I was. When the alarm sounded, I wanted to throw it across the room for daring to interrupt.
“You throw like a girl.”
I don’t want to be a man. If I did, I would have had a sex change years ago. Instead, I happily accept my XX assignment and furthermore, I’m going to shamelessly revel in it. 

I’ve been here so long that it’s beginning to feel like home. What is it about interminable waiting that makes it so irksome? The tedium? The powerlessness? Or knowing that you’re being shaped for some unknown purpose?

Have you ever been faced with an insurmountable problem and known that the solution lays at the bottom of the abyss? It’s there, ripe for the plucking, if you can muster the courage to jump into the unknown.



You’re not fooling anybody. Do you really think you can maintain the status quo by pretending not to see the mess in front of you? What kind of twisted logic has brought you here . . . the type that conveniently fits into your preconceived delusion, or the one that completely excuses you from interacting with others?
It may not look like much, but from where I’m sitting, it offers the best view in the house. There’s something to be said for observing one’s life without paying admission. Who wants to pay inflated ticket prices to watch mayhem?




It was nearly three months since I last talked to Diane. At the time, she was nearly giddy, just having met the man of her dreams on e-Harmony and spending every available moment on Skype. She fell in love, and off the radar, into what I hoped was well-deserved domestic bliss.

I wondered how long he’d continue to harangue me. After nearly two hours of pointless arguing, I hung up the phone and stared out the window. Talking to a bully is not only exhausting, it’s an exercise in futility.
CORPORATE HOSE JOB
Posted in politics, rants, social commentary with tags politics, life, thoughts, random, corporate greed, failed banking institutions, government bailout, public looting on December 2, 2009 by kimmyAnd you can stop the liberal kaffeklatsching because your voice was silenced years ago. Nobody cares about your rights. All that fluff about the Constitution is nothing but that: a pile of fuzz meant to distract you from the menial work you’re obliged to perform.
You mean you didn’t notice the shackles around your feet? Look down. They’re the shiny happy ones with the Wii trademark embossed on the side. Keep jumping and buying, my little serf friend, because you’ll never get off this farm. And neither will your children or your great-grandchildren.
You’ve amassed such a huge pile of debt that indentured servitude is your only option. Consider yourself lucky; if you weren’t needed to keep that grist mill turning, you might be sweating it out in a debtor’s prison.
Oh, wait a minute… this is a debtor’s prison. It’s just the extra-large house arrest variety with the flip-top work release option. They think of everything.
But don’t worry; everyone’s plugged into the same matrix. As long as you’re kept doped and exhausted, who cares if you’re pimped out to the highest bidder? Besides, even if you wanted recourse, to whom or what would you appeal? There will be no one to hold sleazebag corporations accountable and they know it.
So relax and enjoy it. You might find sitting a little painful, but that’s all by design. Time is money and loafing around in chairs is counterproductive. Remember… you’re a team player now.
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