Happy Easter everyone,  if you haven’t already figured it out I have not been writing much (at all) for the past couple of months. 

I’ve moved home from Canada (for immigration purposes- I have to apply for stuff from outside of the country) and am living with my parents temporarily.  The husband is still in law school and is currently preparing for final exams (a very ugly time of year indeed!). 

Anyway, it’s not that I hate writing, I still have lots of things to say- believe me- but since living at home and working again I just don’t have the time to sit down and think.  My parents house is extremely loud (picture a keyboard, two dogs barking, yelling, and a blender going off all at the same time and those are the sound effects going on in my house at all times- no lie!).  Also, EVERY time I go on the computer someone has to sit directly behind me on the recliner and start to talk to me and ask me questions.  So, between the noise, the lack of alone time (COMPLETE lack of), and no time in general- I have not been as devoted to writing as I used to be.  Sorry, I miss it- mainly because I miss my nice quiet and organized apartment terribly (and my husband of course). 

My parents’ house is the total opposite of my apartment.  It’s loud and cluttered- much like the town it is situated in.  It’s VERY stressful to be living here again, even though I love my family and am thankful they are okay with me living here while I immigrate to stupid Canada… but dammit would it be nice to be back in my peaceful, quiet, un-cluttered apartment with my husband.  But until then, take care and have a nice spring.

 Cheers

April 15th nears…. and everyone starts making cute comments about the dreaded Federal Income Tax, and the forms start rolling in, and you call your accountant, and high school and college kids are excited because they get a few hundred dollars coming back to them, small business owners cringe for not filing quarterly, etc. etc.

All this ado in early spring every year; it’s a custom we’re used to and never question.  We know that if you do not bite the bullet and ‘Do Your Taxes’ you could face a fate worse than death: an audit.  OR jail, or a beating, or a big fine, or just a big pain in the ass. 

But guess what….?  There is no law that requires you to pay the Federal Income Tax.  That 1040?  Not required.  Taxing your labor?  Unconstitutional.

The 16th Amendment addresses taxation, but no where claims that the Federal Income Tax is a citizen’s duty.  Actually, when the government tried to get the amendment changed to make F.I.T. a requirement, the Supreme Court said ‘no’ and ruled the tax unconstitutional. 

Don’t believe me?  You look it up.  Call the IRS and try and get them to explain the law to you- or even quote the section of #16 that STATES you have to pay income tax.  Call your accountant, ask them.  You will never get an answer, not a real answer, because there is NO law that requires you to fill out that 1040, or to have your checks garnished and portions of your hard earned dollars sent to the… wait, where does the Federal Income Tax go?  What does it pay for?  Not roads, not schools, not even the salaries of politicians.  All those are already paid for by the dozens of other types of taxes we already pay (local, property, cigarette/liquor, etc. etc.).  Those types of taxes are perfectly legal, the Federal Income Tax is NOT.

Here is a great movie by Aaron Russo (director of Trading Spaces, The Rose….) called America Freedom to Fascism.

He’s an excellent director, and takes a good look at WHY we pay taxes, and questions the law (a law that doesn’t exist) that forces us to do so.  Certainly watch all of it, but if you can’t, AT LEAST watch the first half. 

http://www.freedomtofascism.com/

Google Video Link To Movie

*You can find it on YouTube too…

As we near the 2008 Presidential Election, and commercials telling us how important our vote is begin to grow in numbers, I would like to remind you that your vote doesn’t really matter.  Along with incredible fraud that is occuring at ballot casting sites across the country, there are many other factors working against you- the ‘voter.’

Why your vote doesn’t matter:  The Electoral College

There are many factors that work together to make your vote useless, but the main reason why your vote doesn’t matter has to do with a little thing we call the Electoral College.  The electoral college system dates back to ancient times, probably for the sake of offering representation to peons who couldn’t vote themselves. 

Today, however, most everyone is capable of voting themselves- yet we insist on this silly ‘middle man’ system anyway.  So the electoral college is a group of electors who are actually the ones whose votes do matter.  Each state has a different number of electors, so some states carry more weight than others.  The number of electors is determined by adding a state’s Senators (2) with US Representatives (varies depending on state’s population).  For example, Illinois has 21, California has 55, North Dakota has 3.  So, Califonians are more important from Illinoisans (?), who are more important than North Dakota.

When you cast your ballot on election day, you are really just voting for whoever the elector is that said they would vote for you candidate.  So if you go and check the John Edwards box, you are really checking the box of Joe Elector who says if he got elected for the college he will vote for Edwards.  Then, you put your trust into the hands of a guy who SAYS he will vote for Edwards, but who really knows?  And, for North Dakota, he doesn’t carry much weight anyway because he is only 1 out of 538 votes cast in the college.

Why do we still use this literally ancient system?  I don’t know.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to have everyone vote, and then count the votes, and then whoever gets the most votes wins?  I guess maybe that would take too long… so much for fairness.

An Example of How the Electoral College is Not a Fair Representation of the Little Person’s Vote:

The 2000 Election:  Al Gore had more ‘real’ votes (had we counted votes in a normal way), but according to the Electoral College he had less. 

Now, you may think- oh we’ve all heard of that one, it’s been beaten to death- but I am going to keep talking about it because although we KNOW, as a fact, that the 2000 elections were unfair and incorrect (for reasons besides the electoral college thing, which sadly is perfectly legal) we haven’t done a thing about it, and actually let it happen AGAIN in 2004.  ONE article of many suggesting this.  And we’re obviously letting it happen again.

Part 2:  Faithless Electors

A faithless elector is a member of the electoral college who says they are going to vote for one candidate, and then votes for someone else.  This behavior is punishable, but no FE has ever actually been punished.  Apparently FE’s have never changed the outcome of an election,  but I wonder.  That’s personal opinion, but take some time to think about it yourself.

Part 3:  ‘Winner’ Takes All

Another part of the electoral college which makes no sense is this:  After the electoral votes are cast, whoever gets the most votes in that state ‘wins’ and gets that state’s whole vote.  So if Clinton gets 40 out of 55 electoral votes in California, California switches and ALL 55 of it’s votes go to Clinton.  So during elections, when you hear about which candidates win which states, it’s not a matter of who gets the most votes, really, it’s who gets ALL the votes for that state.  So, for example, Clinton could ‘win’ all of California’s 55 votes even though technically she only got 40.  These numbers add up, and by taking away votes from other candidates who don’t get the majority of the state, this nullifies your vote and actually GIVES it to a candidate you did not vote for.  If you vote for McCain, but the majority of the electoral college votes for Clinton (just an example) then YOUR votes flips to Clinton as well. 

So, because we still insist on using the Electoral College as our method of choosing leaders, YOUR VOTE DOESN’T MATTER- unless of course EVERYONE votes for the same person.  The electoral college racks up big number fast for the front runners, and almost immediately nullifies votes for anyone else.  So after the big states flip to whoever the majority of the college votes for (not the majority of the PEOPLE), it’s pretty much a done deal.  You can go ahead and vote anyway, I’m going to, but just keep in mind that unless everyone else votes the same as you- your vote, more likely than not, will eventually go to a candidate you are not supporting. 

This is foolish, and makes no sense, but until we get off our asses and stop reading stupid articles like this and instead DEMAND a change, we’re going to keep getting Presidents in office who we did not elect.  I don’t know about you, but after some pretty shitty elections in the past I’m ready to step it up and create a REAL democracy, not a fake one run by the rich and the high up.

**Check comments below for a link to Citizen J’s site for further detail on this foolish and sneaky voting method!  …. well I’ll just give you the link here!

Son of a bitch, even the elk are blinged out.  What is the world coming to?

Many of you have probably stumbled upon the website About.com during your daily internet routine at least one time or another.  It’s a very useful website that offers advice and instruction on pretty much anything. 

Anyway, at the bottom of the site’s main page is a little link that says ‘Be a Guide.’  When you click on this link, you find out that normal people are the ones who write the content you see about anything from Ab exercises to flossing your teeth and they get paid for it!  There is an ever-changing list of available topics, and anyone can apply.  All you have to do is pick which topic you would like to write about, tell the site about your writing experience, yourself, and why you would be qualified to write about whatever topic you chose.  If they pick you they ‘test-drive’ you and several other applicants and then pick the best person for the job.  If you get picked you get to start a little page about your topic, and must write a minimum of one post every two weeks and you can make $750 a month!!  More if you get lots of views on your page! 

I thought this was awesome, and saw that one of the available topics was ‘Herb Gardening.’  Being the avid gardener I am, and considering my intense personal interest in herbs (mostly weed, but I can appreciate oregano and basil and all that too!) and gardening, and using various herbs for cooking, AND the fact that I can write (I think I can, at least- even though this is turning into one hell of a run-on sentence) I decided maybe I would get a chance to be a ‘Guide.’ 

So I sent in my little application and a writing sample and was promptly rejected by the powers that be at About.com.  How sad!  Apparently they’re looking for ‘professional’ writers. 

I’m sick of the word ‘professional’ because instead of meaning ‘an expert in that field’ all it really means is ‘has previously been paid for said activity.’ Well, I may not have been paid for my writing ever, but I happen to be a multi-faceted professional.  I am a Professional Reader, Typist, Researcher, Bullshitter, Small-talker, Phone-answerer, Planner, Gardener, Cleaner, Chef, Customer Service Ass-Kisser, Color Coordinator, Shopper, Money Saver, and Job Applicant.  I also happen to be a Professional Self-Proclaimer… meaning that I have the magical ability to turn instantly from someone with a hobby into a self-named Professional.  So kiss it About.com.  I may continue applying to be a Guide- if you’re lucky- but in the mean time I have an informational Herb Gardening Blog to create.  I may not receive a hefty paycheck for doing it myself, but since I was excited to try it anyway I’m going to do it all by myself- so there.

I could go on and on about this, but I’m sure it’s been done before… so I will make this a short rant.

1.  Why did I think I would have no trouble at all getting a grown-up job after college?  Oh that’s right… because everyone SAID I would, like it was some kind of guarantee!!

2.  How come only the trashiest, most rude and poorly dressed, unprofessional assholes get the best jobs at my County’s courthouse?  You know, the place that has the best starting pay rate, the best benefits, and gets every holiday off.  I guess you have to have a gang tattoo on your wrist and smell like alcohol to qualify to local government jobs in my hometown.

3.  Since when do you have to have 79 years of experience to be a good secretary??  Can’t you just be naturally organized and detail-oriented??

4.  Why on God’s green earth am I working in a shit-hole, raccoon-infested greenhouse and getting treated like crap for $9 measly dollars an hour and no benefits when I spent close to $80,000 on college tuition?? 

5.  Why am I spending all this time and money producing the most perfect resumes on the nicest cream colored paper and pretty much writing my cover letters with a goddamn quill pen using my own blood and not getting ONE phone call back. 

I don’t mean to be snotty, and I don’t think this is snotty… but whenever I go somewhere for personal business or something and see people working my dream jobs (secretary, human resources, anything in an office that doesn’t involve fertilizer or rose thorns) they are rude, look like crap, and don’t even DO anything that really takes any amount of talent or expertise?!  I could do these jobs too!  I could be the perfect secretary, the ideal Human Resources Assistant, even a reliable Call Center Representative!!  I’m not asking for the next position as CEO or even anything that would get me my own phone extension.  All I want is a job that pays double digits and hour and maybe offers benefits so I can go get my shitty old glasses replaced!!!  Why did I go to college if all I had to do to get one of these jobs is wear poor fitting clothing from Sirens and get a couple of visible tattoos and a bad attitude???

Since I have returned to my hometown, I work at my old job (a florist).  They were kind enough (desperate) to take me back, and it is nice to come home and be able to start working right away.  I have made it clear to them that I am only working there until I find something else (better) that offers medical benefits and doesn’t involve slave-style duties.

Anyway, other than the usual crap that takes place at that hellhole, I also got to witness one of the biggest shit-shows know to floral shops everywhere: Valentine’s Day.  Since most men do not understand the concept of planning ahead, we were very slow the week before the dreaded day… and the atmosphere was similar to the feel on a beach before a horrific storm, quiet lapping waves of the sea gently tapping the shore before a tsunami.  We prepared the balloons, decorated some azalea plants, memorized the holiday prices, and ordered about a million roses. 

Then came February 13th, the phonecalls began… and they did not stop.  Men calling, leaving it up to me (who could care less) to decide what they should send their girlfriends/ wives for the holiday.  Trying to make small talk as I read off prices of roses and other dumb arrangements that are just going to die in a week anyway.  I convince them to add a balloon, or a stuffed animal, or even an overpriced box of chocolates.  Most men just want a dozen red roses- how very original!  The florists (the one’s who actually make the arrangements- I just take the orders) are abuzz- and by abuzz I mean violent and bitchy.  Snapping everytime I place another invoice on their workstation- yelling that they need a second choice in case they run out of the first, demanding I slit my wrists and flail on the floor to redeem myself.  Well, not really- but they were really mean.

Then the 14th.  I wake up and suddenly know what a death row inmate feels like on his or her big day.  Dreading it, but somewhat releived that all of it is almost over.  I dragged myself to work, trying to meditate and create a calm atmosphere while driving through the type of traffic that only a certain type of neighborhood (shitty) can generate- people walking down the middle of the street, no turn signals, old rust-buckets broken down and taking up a whole lane, and a crater-sized pothole ever 4 meters. 

I pull into work and am immediately yelled at, for no reason at all, and have to start answering the phones before I even get my coat off.  There is a line of loser guys outside the door already, the florists are on suicide watch, and everyone is generally pissed off. 

It was awful, but like many trauma victims, the details of my abuse are fuzzy- I think I’ve blocked it out.  But it sucked, I have worked retail for 11 years now and through all the Christmases, spring blowout sales, and Mother’s Days I have never seen anything like it.  We all survived, but a little piece of me died that day- and my husband will never have to get me a Valentine’s Day present ever again.  And a note to all you men out there- don’t walk into a florist and think you’re cute and sweet for remembering, and expect us to give a shit about you, your girlfriend, whether or not she likes roses, or comment about the prices… we just see you as a hurdle, and want to get over you and move on the the next one as quickly as possible.  Pick your flowers, pay, and get out before you get hurt.

I need a new job in a bad way.

After a brief hiatus (travelling from my home in Canada back to my parents’ house in Chicago to start the dreaded IMMIGRATION PROCESS from here) and a general lack of material, I am back to my blog.  I was also a little pissed about some nasty comments I received here- defending Kat Von D of all people!  But then I realized that if I hate Kat Von D, then I probably hate her fans too- therefore, I do not have to give them the time of day AND I can delete whatever comments I want to!  So HA!  If you want to write something nasty just don’t bother, because it will be deleted.

Anyway, I’m back, working at my old job (at a Floral Shop), living with my parents once again, and getting all my papers in order to send in to the mysterious Canadian Immigration office (I imagine that it looks like the Emerald City in the Wizard of Oz, and instead of the floating head of Joel Grey it’s Stephen Harper).  So begins the final chapter of my immigration journey and the second book of “I’m too old to be living with my parents”

… Let the games begin!

 When I was in high school I struggled with your usual teenage problems.  I felt foreign in my own skin, completely alone, and useless.  I also worked myself into a nice little eating disorder too- which was pretty ugly and did not help my teenage angst at all.  It wasn’t like I had a horrible life or anything, I was just a depressed girl with no one to talk to and terribly low self-esteem.

Anyway, as my eating disorder spiraled out of control (like they always do) my poor mother did her best to try and help me.  I refused and refused for the longest time, I loved being at my low weight and had found comfort in the isolated life that eating disorders encourage you to create. 

After an especially scary episode, however, I finally decided to take my mom’s advice (mainly because I couldn’t take the turmoil that was being caused by me at home any more) and went to see a doctor.  My doctor was really nice, she was Scottish and really pretty and skinny so of course I liked her.  I was also under the impression, due to several comments she made during our first visit, that she struggled with an eating disorder at one time or another as well.  Anyway, after some blood tests and all that I was told that if I didn’t improve my nutrition I was going to end up in the emergency room and that I should probably seek treatment.  So I did, and along with treatment guess what else I got?  Anti-depressants.

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*Disclaimer* Antidepressants can really help some people, they could perhaps even save someone’s life.  This is a telling of MY experience with those types of drugs, however, which was horrible, and I personally believe that along with having the potential to do good, anti-depressants can also have the complete opposite effect on some people.  I am in no way saying that no one should take them, my point with this post is that you should always listen to your body, and don’t assume that anti-depressants are your only option.  Please don’t post an assload of comments about how great they worked for you and I don’t know anything/ I’m an asshole for saying they’re bad/You hate me because I am badmouthing prozac/etc.  This is my telling of my reaction. 

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Anyway, off I went to treatment, a semester off school and a full time job of talking about my feelings and my relationship with food, blah blah blah.  I completed treatment, became healed of my eating disorder (well, not really, but I could at least once again function in society), and went back to complete my final year in high school.  One thing that I had to hang onto, along with the mental tools I gained from my stay in the hospital, were those pesky pills that I never liked taking in the first place. 

The first drug I was prescribed is, I believe, what really caused me to crack.  I was messed up before, but after my visit with the Scottish doctor and right before I entered treatment (a span of about 2 weeks), I pretty much went bananas.  I went from counting calories and over exercising (anorexia) to eating 4,000- 5,000 calories a day (sometimes in one or two sittings) and throwing up after each ‘meal’ (bulimia) almost overnight.  I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin, and even felt the need to scratch and scratch myself- one time causing myself to bleed.  I felt like a zombie, hated everyone, and remember laying on the floor numb telling my father that I just hated existing.  After taking this medication for a few weeks, and then being in treatment for a few weeks, I talked to a different doctor and told him I did not like taking anti-depressants because of how they made me feel.  He switched me to a different drug.  Time went by, and like I said, I completed treatment and went back to school. 

I continued taking my prescribed medication for another year, yet still struggled with horrible ‘black moods,’ feeling as though nothing could fix me, and just wanting to cease to exist- a numbness and feeling of hopelessness that I can’t even begin to describe accurately.  I felt like I was just wrong!  Even though I was on this pill that was supposed to keep me from getting in my horrible states, it seemed as though they were worse now than they were before I was taking anything!  I continued to live this way, okay for a few weeks or maybe a month, then would be hit with a feeling of despair so deep I’m amazed I never tried to kill myself (the only thing that kept me from attempting this is the thought of how much it would hurt my mother). 

So I began college, still occassionally struggling with ‘food issues’ (i.e. making myself puke) and began to despise taking my medicine.  I would quit taking it (which is a BAD idea) and would feel even worse, but I knew that I was not myself when I was on it either.  So I would go crazy if I stopped taking it, and would go crazy when I did take it.  I would ask my doctors (three different doctors who I had been seeing since high school) to help me ween myself off (which is what you’re supposed to do when you quit) and they would just switch me to a different pill, which I would then not take because I was pissed.  I would argue with my doctors about whether or not I even needed it, telling them that I was 16 when I started taking it, surely I was different now and maybe no longer needed it.  Maybe my depression was a result of outside factors, not a chemical imbalance.  Their answer to this was: a diabetic can’t just not take insulin anymore- this is something you will have to take the rest of your life.

What a horrible thing to tell a young, thoughtful girl who just happened to have a hard time during her teenage years!!  What I heard when they told me this was:  there is something wrong with you that cannot be fixed, it can only be treated.  The phrase ’situational depression’ was not in their vocabulary, so I finally bit the bullet and threw out all my pills and quit cold turkey.  I do not recommend this, because when you quit abruptly like that it makes your ‘levels’ go totally wacky- leaving you temporarily bat-shit crazy, even if you weren’t that bad to begin with.  But I did it anyway because I figured anything would be better than constantly not feeling like myself and suffering from my ‘black moods.’  Luckily, thanks to smoking pot (I believe- because it got my mind off the bad thoughts I was having as a result of quitting my medicine instead of weening myself off) I managed to survive the following few weeks. 

To this day (4 years later) I have not suffered any ‘black moods,’ have not wanted to kill myself, have not had any urges to return to my old eating disorder habits, and have managed to deal with life’s obstacles.  Sometimes I still get in a bad mood, and feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders- but I can still go about my day and don’t feel paralyzed by sadness. 

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I think there are a lot of cases where anti-depressants can be very helpful to people.  But I firmly believe that you cannot just put someone on a pill and forget about them, it’s important to work through whatever is making you depressed, everyone needs coping skills.  And if you are taking medicine and don’t feel like yourself after giving your body a few weeks to adjust, then something is wrong.  You need to establish a working relationship with your doctor and they should listen to you, not brush you off simply because you’re young or you don’t have a medical degree.  If you are taking something and feel weird or feel like something isn’t right or feel like it just isn’t helping you, then you should really talk to someone and perhaps plan a different path for yourself (with the help of a professional of course- don’t do what I did).

Anyway, this is my story of eating disorders, teenage turnmoil, anti-depressants, and doctor’s who maybe need to work on listening to their patients.  During my experience I took varying levels of Paxil, Prozac, Lexapro, Cymbalta, Xanax (which isn’t an anti-depressant), and Fluoxetine (which I was told by my doctor is different than Prozac, but later found out it is just generic Prozac); I was not prescribed Wellbutrin because it can cause people to lose weight, and because of my eating disorder the doctors didn’t want to start anything.

After a drunken night out with my husband’s hockey team (which is an experience all on it’s own) I was left with many questions:  How can they drink so much and not die?  Does ‘hockey’ count as a language- because I can’t understand a word they’re saying?  Is this legal?  Where am I? etc. etc….

But a more important question that actually came up (in a drunken, ‘what is life all about’ kind of way, and stayed with me until the next morning is:  How come Florida is not like the rest of the Southern states?  They don’t have southern accents (I don’t think) and the state just doesn’t have the same feel as the rest of the South.  Now, between myself and a bunch of Canadians there was not much evidence to back up these claims- I have only been to Florida once and everyone had equal or less time logged there, but when you think about it- Florida really does seem to stand alone, the sore thumb of the United States, sticking out from the usual southern stereotypes us Yankees hold about the rest of the area.

I did a little research (i.e. typed in ‘Florida’ on Wikipedia) and could not find anything unique about the state that would set it apart from the rest of the area.  It was originally settled by the Spanish, and then some French people came, but was later conquered by the English (who cleverly armed the indigenous people with weapons and had them do the dirty work- sound familiar??).  AND, Florida WAS involved in the Civil War (I thought they weren’t for some reason, because I am an idiot who was robbed of a half decent education)-  They were the first state in the Confederacy! 

So, Florida DID have a different start, but eventually blended with the rest of the south and collected a similar history.  But why no accent then?  Why is it still so seemingly different from it’s neighbors?  Or is it?  Am I totally wrong?  What would I know anyway?

The only thing I can think of (if I am correct in assuming that Florida is different from the rest of the South) is because of the terribly small population prior to the Depression, and the difficult time the state had recuperating afterwards (Florida struggled until after WWII).  So I’m thinking that there just aren’t the same ‘roots’ in Florida as the rest of the south because the population didn’t really grow until much much later.  So maybe Florida is made up more of transplants from elsewhere, and does not hold the generations and generations of families like the rest of the southern states.  I don’t know, just a guess.  Can you grow cotton in Florida?  Is it because of the Everglades? 

Who Are You?

Update!  Oh my Gosh… I was just listening to WPR and they’re talking about Florida (election stuff) and one Florida guy mentioned that 75% of Florida’s population is from somwhere else!  That would explain some things I suppose.