“This is fucking ridiculous! You should blog it!”
….Is, oddly enough, how a lot of my entries come to be born. My subjects: mostly sourcing from some one or more of the “family”…and more often than not: from Cecil.
…She’s sorta like a happenings-magnet, as far as humans go. Much more than I am. Because she puts herself out there in the day-to-day. She’s the kind of person who knows the names of and forges relationships with the checker at the grocery store, and her barista, and the guy in the mall who stops you mid-stride to try and sell you something from the hair-iron/cellphone shield/Hickory Farms kiosks. She’s the kind of person who will start talking to a total stranger sitting on a bench in the park. The kind of person who will look you in the eye and actually ask-and-wait-for-the-answer to, “How are you doing today…” and she will tell the god’s honest truth in reply.
“…Well, thank you for asking, Ben, but it’s actually not been a great day. The bank was closed, so I couldn’t get that money order I needed to pay my rent and now I’m worried about having to write a check and have it clear in time,” …she will say…to the guy bagging her groceries. I’ve been there and seen it happen. Countless times.
…And so, because of this, she is –no matter how well I know her– a sort of bafflement to me, as humans go. Because she is a literalist at life. She makes no exceptions to the processing of her thoughts and feelings…possessing still that thing we did once in childhood, before all the social moores BS took over, and we were made to understand that one doesn’t go around just honestly stating fact all the time. If fact, we try at all ends NOT to.
“Does this make me look fat?”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Did you like the show?”
“Do you think he’s gonna call me?”
…It’s not that you will get mean answers to these questions. You will get very weighed and creatively kind and honest answers. Something like:
“Well, I mean, you’re beautiful, so lemme ask you this: how do you feel?”
“I had great sex last night, so: really well, thanks!”
“You were having such a good time!”
“How about: yes, and then you have an even better second date, or if he doesn’t…he clearly isn’t a quality/content person, it’s about quantity or whatever, so: good riddance. ”
…This all — BTW, is nothing in commentary to her age or generation…this is purely Cecil. From her mother, I am told, she was terrifyingly always like this…a person to which no one has ever been a stranger. Imagine a toddler who makes friends with and will follow anyone? It’s frankly a miracle she was never abducted or worse. But that is just another witness to her special amount of charmed-life she carries around with her.
…Sometimes we really do wonder how two such polar opposite humans can even stand, let alone “like” one another. Family. Whatchugonnado?
…This is all set up to show you how different people can deal with frustrations. An offer of “study”…on how a struggle still wages for all of womanity…which fucking sucks, is ridiculous in it’s still existence, and in the end, must still be warred against…to the end…apparently, of all of time.
…It all starts with a little pill. Taken at midnight (for her) which single handedly prevents a world of problems, and gives her actual tangible control, of her own body. It’s one of the many things our grandmother’s fought and went to jail for…(in the annuls of our history), and yet, thanks to politicians and insurance companies, we are STILL having to wage an ongoing war with.
…And in this case, it took a responsible, proactive, determined, fully insured, College-educated, adult fucking woman…THREE DAYS, and FOUR HOURS, to attain said pill…in any form. After attempting to merely fill a legal prescription, at no less than 8 pharmacies, on a Sunday night… including one attached to a goddamn actual hospital.
…And as I was along for the ride of what should have been a sole drive-thru in five minutes, task…as she continued to call more pharmacies, whilst I Google’d others… I couldn’t help but think, that if it is THIS damn difficult to get some fucking birth control in this country in the “best” of circumstances…what the hell is it like in the shitty, super dire ones?! What the FUCK is wrong with a society that script you tiny blue pills to pop like tic tacs to get your dick up, but you need damn-near another revolution to protect the shit spewing out of it, from ruining our feminine lives, as consequence?!
…Which brought up the fact that every election year, we have to fight the same fight we’ve supposedly already won, over and over again, because of all the ignorant political limp-dicks trying to cock block us (literally) from living equal and free-willed lives.
…Which literalized what is happening to us, as a sex, as a part of this nation right now, this second, so specifically that maybe only a Cecil –charmed as she is– can manage to break through. With much, much effort. And a lot-too-many car miles.
…Because: what about the ones who can’t?! What about the ones with no voice, or capacity to beat their brains against the damn door over and over again, until they finally attain what is already rightfully THEIRS?!
…Which is as far as I will go, in saying –because I mutherfucking HATE, loath, and despise politics to the marrow of my bones– but despite that, here’s the little alagory to state quite plainly:
Get out and cast your damn votes, people. Because, no matter how accommodating, kind, affable, endearing, hardworking, dedicated, and responsible you are…it means dick when you are stripped of your own basic rights, because of whatever-the-fuck reasons they wanna throw at you.
…Cuz the rage of even a Cecil, denied these things across the course of that time in today’s age, leads to one hell of a “holy fuck” blow up.
As it should.
Sound out, sister!