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  • How About We Stop Trying to Empower Women?

    Women in the Western World no longer face the same blatant discrimination of the past – we can vote, have custody of our children, and participate in the work force by being cogs in the wheel of capitalism slaving away endlessly in a soulless pursuit of wealth just like the boys! But of course that doesn’t mean sexism is behind us. The world is just as rapey as it ever – which is why I created the new “Pussy Protector” that works like a rat-trap and will tear off the hand of any presidential candidate who tries to grab yours. I’m selling them on Ebay.

    The current battle against misogyny in the Western world is a more nuanced, psychological one. A lot of progress has been made in the past 100 years, yet the lingering mental conditioning that women are inferior still remains. Empowerment has become a big theme in modern western feminism, and many think that is the solution we’ve been looking for to address the gender hierarchy. We have to empower women. Women need to be sexually empowered. Woman would be so much better if they just empowered themselves.

    But is the pursuit of POWER really what we should be encouraging?

    Power is a corrupting force. People in power are by FAR the most shady, greedy, selfish, destructive, murderous, and thoughtless people on planet earth. Power doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Power is in direct relation to what you have over others. You never have power WITH other people. That sentence doesn’t even make sense. My autocorrect hated it. You have power OVER others.

    Check it:

    Simple Definition of power
    : the ability or right to control people or things

    : political control of a country or area

    : a person or organization that has a lot of control and influence over other people or organizations

    Full Definition of power
a (1) : ability to act or produce an effect (2) : ability to get extra-base hits (3) : capacity for being acted upon or undergoing an effect
b : legal or official authority, capacity, or right

a : possession of control, authority, or influence over others
b : one having such power; specifically : a sovereign state
c : a controlling group : establishment —often used in the phrase the powers that be
d archaic : a force of armed men
e chiefly dialect : a large number or quantity

a : physical might
b : mental or moral efficacy
c : political control or influence

    I don’t know if we want to be “empowering” women as much as we want to “disempower” everyone! Having power over others is too much for the human psyche to handle.

    I want to believe that if women had more power then we would handle it differently, but that implies women are somehow more morally high-minded then men. If we look at women that have rose through the ranks of power, Margaret Thatcher, Hillary Clinton, Angela Merkel, Dilma Rousseff… it’s not like any of them have been flawless saints. They played the game of politics and power, and compromised just like men do. There are women CEO’s for General Motors, Hewlette Packard, IBM, and I don’t see these giant corporations as righteous. These companies aren’t helping to save us from the transhumanist, apocalyptic, World War 3, nightmare that lies ahead of us.

    There are “good” women leaders, and there are “good” men leaders, but ANYONE who get’s into positions of power can be seduced into making decisions that prioritize their power over what’s best for humanity. A selfless person in power is about as easy to find as the G-spot when you’re drunk and stoned.

    When I think about the messaging I want to internalize and teach my daughter, I’m not convinced I want it to be predicated on power. I want women to be tough, feel comfortable in their own skin, and question the status quo that shapes us as people. I want to teach my daughter to be insightful, strong-willed, compassionate, thoughtful, inquisitive, empathetic, tell funny dick/vagina jokes (equal opportunity genital humor) – but most importantly I want her to be philosophical. I don’t think humanity needs more people striving for power, but more people approaching life philosophically.

    This is not a new concept; the great philosopher Socrates was assassinated by his community because he encouraged children to question authority and think for themselves. It was his belief that the ONLY people fit to be kings (he was kind of sexist in that way) were philosophers. They were the sole humans who could handle the job because they were the only ones NOT seeking power. Yet of course the tragic irony is philosophers don’t want to be kings because they understand the moral vulnerability of that position.

    I think we should be teaching our daughters and sons to seek a philosophical understanding of themselves and the world rather than suggesting a vague quest towards empowerment. Think about it. Philosophers are not slaves to materialism. They aren’t out shopping for plastic bullshit that will later be dumped in the ocean to choke an octopus. Philosophers aren’t starting wars or enacting genocide. Can you imagine a philosopher in charge of nuclear weapons? That button would never get pushed because they would spend the rest of their life with their finger hovering, pontificating endlessly about the consequences of their actions. Philosophically minded people are not violent or reckless because they are too busy peacefully staring at their belly buttons pondering the meaning of it all.
    I don’t want to be sexually “empowered” because my sex isn’t a weapon I want to lord over, or control some one with. If I am sexually attracted to someone all that means is that I’m waving my DNA flag, and he is waving his, and we happen to have enough variety where we won’t create a deformed spider-child with 7 legs. Sexual attraction has to do with biology, and I shouldn’t be told to feel powerful because someone has a different double helix than me. If I’m attracted to a dude, I want him to know, because that’s the whole point right? And if I’m not attracted to a guy, I don’t want him to be attracted to me, because that feels manipulative.

    When we equate sex with empowerment it suggests that sex is a part of power. I don’t want to feel like sex has anything to do with power. I want to be sexually free. I want to be sexually explorative to make my own decisions. I want to be sexually liberated and begin relationships with the man knowing blowjobs are a great gift I bestow upon him exclusively for birthdays and anniversaries. But I don’t need to feel powerful because I am sexy, or have sex.

    I’ve always thought sex was about genuine desire and mutual lust. But maybe I have been wrong about this?? I guess if I’d been thinking about fucking my way to the top, I wouldn’t still be at the bottom of this mountain kicking rocks. Shit you guys, did I not capitalize enough on my youth? Was it a mistake to only sleep with people I actually liked? Did I waste my 20’s fucking DJ’s, skaters, and club kids? No wonder why I’m not a millionaire – but I at least I can scratch a record and do a kick flip. I didn’t learn about power through my sexual exploits but I did learn I probably shouldn’t fuck dudes who expect me to do more than 2 positions or care about their orgasms after I’m done.

    Power dynamics exist within sexual relationships because there are power imbalances of who likes who more. But aren’t we all searching for that one relationship where power doesn’t exist? Where you love each other equally. Isn’t equality what we are seeking in every aspect of humanity? Racial, gender, and economic equality!? Fuck power… we want an even playing field!

    Power struggles are all part of the patriarchy no matter who is struggling for power. Women don’t need to be encouraged to fall into the same trappings that culture has put before us for thousands of years. Let’s abandon this way of thinking where power is what we seek and instead focus on what women are inherently talented at; building community, developing intimacy, prioritizing connection, and using methods of communication over force. I want our (potential) woman president not to solve problems with the same solution of war and violence, but instead by talking off Putin’s ear until he just gives the fuck up. Then this tension with Russian can end just like every argument between a man and woman… with the guy saying, “you’re right, I’m wrong, I’m sorry.”


    October 20, 2016 • Current Events, Musings, Political Banter, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 353

  • Let’s Get Real Intimate about Intimacy

    The other day I was in the shower debating whether or not to shave my legs, and then remembering… Who cares? No one eats out my legs! I was listening to music, and the song” Elenor Rigby” by the Beatles came on my Pandora radio station. After it was done, my brain immediately started singing, “When I wake up early in the morning…” because “I’m Only Sleeping” is the next song on the Revolver album. Then it dawned on me… HOLY SHIT I AM THE LAST GENERATION OF HUMANS TO HAVE LISTENED TO ENTIRE RECORDS!

    I grew up in the 80’s, and sit right on the cusp of Gen X’ers and the Millennials. I may be one of the fastest texters this side of the Mississippi, but I also had a Walkman and know what the fuck a fax machine is. I have a relationship to technology that is of course foreign to my grandparent’s generation, but my connection to machines and the services they provide was very intimate.

    When I was growing up we didn’t have the access to variety that there is today. There was still an element of sacredness to technology and the media it provided. Entertainment was something I had to patient for. I had to wait until Saturday morning to watch cartoons – then hold my pee until a commercial came on so I didn’t miss a second of “He-Man.” If I liked a movie, I watched it again, and again, and again, and again because it was all I had – a VHS cassette. I didn’t have streaming or downloading. I saw “Annie” over 60 times, “Wayne’s World” well over a hundred, and I could recite “Dumb and Dumber” and “Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure” word for word right now!

    When I got a tape – like Billy Joel, Paul Abdul, Public Enemy, The Police, Led Zeppelin, Michael Jackson – I would listen to it thousands of times. I knew the lyrics to every song, which song came next, and what songs were on which side of the tape. The music and movies I loved implanted into my soul. To this day I quote “Zoolander” at least 8 times a week. The cultural references I share with those of my generation runs profoundly deep. There are so many inside jokes we have because most of us were so limited in what media we had contact with. We all saw “Dazed and Confused” at least 10 times, and will say “Alright, alright,” to perfectly express ourselves in a moment. We didn’t just consume media; we embedded it into our psyches and personalities.

    Our attention spans were more focused because we had less to pay attention to. I had access to similar distractions we battle with today, but it was less distracting because I had less variety. I was forced to be focused within my escapism. I played computer games, but I had two to choose from. You bet your sweet ass I killed at “Frogger,” because I spent 10,000 hours playing it. I still know what every single level looks like in “Super Mario Brothers.” If I could have built my career around saving a Princess by jumping on the head’s of turtles, I would be a goddamn millionaire.

    Yet now, with our immense and immediate access to media, it passes through us like dysentery. Nobody listens to entire records or obsessively watches the same film over and over. There are too many options. We live in a disposable culture where nothing is meant to last. We swipe through humans like we do videos to watch.

    Our relationship to technology doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It is a direct reflection of our psychology. In the 50’s we had the expectation of our appliances to last for decades – much like our marriages, and our careers. Now in modern times we expect all of those to break down. It’s no more shocking to replace your dishwasher than it is to trade in your husband. There are no more lifetime guarantees and we don’t even really care anymore.

    The manifestation of what technology has turned into is in direct relationship to how we view each other. We are so over stimulated that actual stimulation feels boring. The result is a rampant lack of intimacy that is spreading through society. We feel connected through our social media, but we are physically connecting less and less. We hang out less, have dinner together less, leave our houses less, and look for sex less.

    Millenials are having less sex than any generation in the past 60 years!!!! I know!! We all thought they were fucking their way through their hook up culture but no! They are in front their screens because their virtual world is safer, more predictable, and easier to control than the real one.

    There is no turning back from what we have created, and we know this. The momentum is propelling us forward at lightening speed, and there aren’t enough scientists to study the impact all this will all have on our brains and psyches until the damage is done. We don’t know what we are evolving into, but it’s happening rapidly.

    So why does intimacy matter when we can Skype across the world and connect on those terms? What does sharing physical space provide when we can transcend space and time through our keyboards? Why fuck when we can watch other people do it and spare ourselves the emotional and actual mess?


    When we let go of our intimate connections to each other we are easier to control. When you see more people on screens than you do in real life – then what differentiates them from the characters of fiction? They become vague representations of people, so why care about them? If we had to look Syrian refugees in the eyes we would be WAYYYY more prone to take them into our country and actually do something to help them. But a suffering face on a screen is more abstract, so essentially easier to ignore.

    The reason it matters that people are having less sex is because sexually frustrated humans don’t think straight!! Why do you think religion is always trying to control sexuality? The religions with the MOST restrictions around sex are the ones that are also the MOST prone to war. Men who are not getting laid excess testosterone running through their veins so they’re easier to manipulate into violence. Keeping us away from sex doesn’t make us more loving – it makes us more volatile.

    When people honor intimacy and sexuality they are more likely to value humanity as a whole. When you are touching, biting, and kissing another human on the regular, than you are reminding yourself that people matter more than material objects. BLACK LIVES MATTER YOU GUYS and if you were having more intimate connected sex you wouldn’t even question that!

    Sexuality in our current culture is being broken open, examined, and redefined. We have a major opportunity here to awaken a new understanding, but we have to do so with intentionality and care. Systems are raping the earth much like the rampant raping women, and its all a symptom of a similar lack of respect. Rape culture isn’t about sex, but more about power and the dehumanizing of women. If we took a step back and looked at society, our lack of intimacy with everything is at the core of so many of our issues.

    We are facing political, social, and environmental crisis… these are scary times, but withdrawing from humanity isn’t going to save us. Diving in will. We need to get dirty together, and be dirty with each other. We have to remember that human connections are not simple algorithms and even though they leave you vulnerable, they can’t be replaced with microchips. I don’t want to live in a transhumanist nightmare, and they only way to avoid that is by prioritizing intimate connections in every facet of our lives.


    October 12, 2016 • Current Events, Health, Musings, Sex Stuff • Views: 994

  • Raising a Little Conformist

    When you have a baby, and that baby cries, it’s not trying to manipulate you. An infant cries because it has a genuine need, and that’s its only mode of communication. The first year of parenting is simple in that way. Your baby cries, so you address their relatively basic problems. (I’m hungry, I’m tired, I have to fart, I have a shit in my pants). But as soon as your kid becomes a toddler and understands that it’s screaming can make you do things you don’t want to do – but will do anyway just to shut them up – you bet your sweet ass that kid is going to exploit the shit out of your weaknesses.

    Once your child is no longer a baby, you have to start considering a discipline strategy, and how you are going to condition them. You’re not just raising a kid, but a future adult you’re going to have to deal with for the rest of your life. There is a major shift of consciousness that has to place for the parent making this transition. Figuring out how and when to say “no” to your child is more complex than you’d think. You don’t want to give into all your kid’s demands because then your kid will be an asshole when they grown up. But when you push back and deny your kid of what they want… they turn into a serious fucking asshole right in front of your goddamn face.

    Modern parents are all products of the baby boomer generation and I love you guys, but you were kind of neglectful parents in a lot of ways. LOVELY people those baby boomers… but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only person in my 30’s who was raised by a Television. Probably why the Bill Cosby story was such a hard roofie-cocktail to swallow – it was like finding out your Dad was a rapist. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US DADDY!!!!

    So a lot of us who are parenting now are doing so in direct reaction to feeling slightly abandoned as children. Yet with every pendulum swing, a lot of times things go wayyy too far in the other direction. As children we may have been latchkey kids, but we also had independence, which was crucial. Today’s kids can hardly even pick their noses without parental supervision. We’re so afraid that our kids won’t feel cared for, that we don’t give them any space to figure out the world on their own.

    The same thing goes for discipline. There has been a major shift of thinking regarding how to deal with a kid’s emotional outbursts. Spanking is now ONLY appropriate between two consenting adults in the bedroom. Most of us can agree that yelling at a child is ineffective and cruel. Ignoring your kid only makes them create more havoc to get your attention. Yet rationalizing with a young child is bit like talking to Donald Trump. There are moments when they speak complete sentences and seem to understand you, but then they just say random words and make funny faces.

    In my personal parenting journey I have been working with two concepts. One idea is that I want The Munch to know she is allowed to have emotions, and doesn’t have to not feel the pressure to “always be happy” or “suck it up.” I am a new age hippy who drinks water filtered by moon beams, so of course I my want my kid to be connected to her emotional self and explore the entirety of her emotional spectrum. At no point do I want to be a force that enforces emotional repression. But… I also don’t want to create a goddamn monster that allows herself to express every feeling like an emotional terrorist!!!

    So my strategy has been trying to find a balance between these extremes. When she is upset I ask if there is a solution to her problem. If she is too pissed to think of solutions I suggest she go into her room where she can feel all she wants, but I don’t have to be a witness to her outburst. Then when she is ready to talk, we can talk about solutions and move forward with our lives.

    It took time to get this to work, but now that she is 6, we are in a pretty good place. Not just because of my parenting of course, it’s not like I’m some kid whisperer. Her personality was easy to work with because The Munch’s natural disposition is pretty mellow. She has her moments of expected child rage, but her core essence isn’t very confrontational. She is mostly a “well behaved” kid, and when she is feeling really upset and doesn’t want to be reasonable, she goes into her room and then comes out when she is ready to discuss things more rationally.

    All great right??

    NOT SO SURE!!!

    This is the NEW problem that I’m seeing. The Munch is REALLY RESPECTFUL OF AUTHORITY!

    The Munch listens to her teachers at school, and takes instruction very seriously. When she recently had to deal with the hospital and all her surgery she did everything the doctor said, and was very compliant. The doctor said on multiple occasions “what a good girl she is.” The Munch went to the dentist for the first time yesterday and came home wanting to brush her teeth 3 times a day and floss every morning and night. She listened to her dentist because she is a “good little girl” who does what she is told.


    Have I raised a little conformist!!!??

    As a parent yes I want my daughter to listen to me… but as a woman I want my daughter to LISTEN TO NO ONE!!!!!!!!!

    As a parent it is really amazing that she is so easy tempered, empathetic, thoughtful, nice, caring, but as a feminist I want her TO SHAKE SHIT THE FUCK UP AND CHALLENGE ALL STEROTYPES AND NEVER MAKE IT EASY FOR MEN TO TAKE ADVTAGE OF HER!

    As a parent it is so nice that my kid takes direction well, shows adults respect, isn’t a problem at school, is easy to teach… but as a wannabe revolutionary… FUCK AUTHORITY! FUCK THE POLICE! FUCK THE SYSTEM!!! FUCK GOVERNMENT!!

    Do you see my problem!!

    So here is my plan for the next 6 years… slowly undo every thing I have done and recondition her. This way by the time she is 12, she will be a fucking nightmare – just in time for her teen years. She can rebel against everything and everyone, have ton of fun, and become a total bad ass. Then from 18-24 we find the balance between the two.


    October 5, 2016 • Disciplining, Education, Family Drama, Mommyhood, Parenting • Views: 626

  • Bitches and Beauty

    Recently Alicia Keys went to the VMA’s without any make up on. My reaction to this was as complex as – “that’s cool.” I posted an article on my FB wall and kept living my life. Yet now the “news” is talking about her “bare faced” look spurring a revolution! Ummm… really? A REVOLUTION?? Does that mean that I am now considered a guerilla warrior because I am too lazy to put on fucking foundation?

    I’m not wearing make up in the above picture, but does that make me brave??! UMMM not really because have you seen my abs?? I think it’s depressing that the world is shitting golden eggs because a painfully pretty woman dared get her picture taken looking painfully pretty without lipstick. SHOCKING!!!

    Pop News” is asking me if I will I join her #nomakeup movement. MOVEMENT?? It’s seriously such big deal that a chick goes outside without mascara that we are actually comparing it to a social movement?! Sure Keys is a celebrity and thus judged for her looks, but the way the media is reacting, you’d think that she was as bold as to tattoo “Politics Can Eat My Pussy” across her forehead.

    At this very moment I am sitting at my computer wearing tie-dyed “Hammer” pants… much like Joey Buttafuoco circa 1992. I haven’t washed my hair in a week, and when I did, I used body soap because why bother with a variety of substances that make bubbles? I have never in my life received the compliment “you smell amazing,” and I’m pretty sure the dirt under my fingernails has it’s own eco system.

    I could put a lot more effort into this package… Bitches are supposed to be beautiful, and when we are not, we are expected to feel bad about ourselves. Oh no, my skin isn’t as smooth as a baby’s scrotum, and I haven’t scorched my cootch with a blowtorch to remove all unwanted hair follicles. DO YOU STILL LIKE ME? Have you seen my abs??!

    Beauty, sex, and physical appeal are all part of the trademark of femininity. It is a constant conversation in society… more than Syria, Yemen, the Federal Reserve, and the ruling lizard Elite. The only thing we talk about more than women’s being beautiful are women NOT being beautiful. How dare you be unfuckable you whore!

    The problem with “beauty standards” is the consequential brand recognition of what is considered attractive. You see something enough times and it becomes engrained in your psyche. See this?? This is what you should buy into!! If you go to a grocery store to get detergent, most people will buy “Tide” because they’ve seen it before. It’s familiar, so it must be good right? Who cares that it’s a bottle of toxic chemicals? Same thing goes with beauty. These photo-shopped, over made up images are slammed down our gullets, and we deep throat that message without even gagging… unless you are retching to puke up dinner to be skinny enough by tomorrow. PS don’t forget to shoot some Botox into your lips and ass because those are the only parts of you allowed to be fat.

    Even industries that claim to be about acceptance and soul seeking are just as superficial. If I see one more skinny white chick in a yoga video wearing her underwear while doing a split – I will literally turn my labia inside out, use it as a cape, and fly to another planet like a goddamn super hero. Hey Yogis… you could be doing a lot better with your “being the change you want to see in the world.”

    I am so bored of this being such a huge issue in the collective consciousness of the female identity, yet at the same time, I WANT TO BE BEAUTIFUL SO YOU WILL CARE ABOUT ME!

    Sometimes I try. I slap some make up on my face and run my fingers through my tangled mane, but then give up because I am pulling my hair. It’s too knotty! I will throw on a sexy outfit, stick my tits out, and strut around like a peacock with a feather up its ass. I am not saying it doesn’t feel good when people look at me like I am hot… yet at the same time, what the fuck? Why do I care?

    I care because I am conditioned to care. I care because it does matter what I look like, even though it doesn’t, because actually it does. For thousands of years, beauty has been part of female survival, and in many ways we are still making it so.

    For most of recorded history, women were commodities and property. In that paradigm, attractiveness added to the value of what we could be purchased for. Being beautiful was a strategy of success. There was hardly any chance for us to have power beyond what our husbands could provide. So in order for a woman to have any influence, she had to be part of the right family – all Game of Thrones style.

    There then comes this massive social shift where women start earning value with their minds. We start to intellectually compare with men, so now their competition for achievement has doubled. Smart women eat into the economic and political pool that was once dominated by men, and that is a threat to their livelihood within a capitalist model.

    But… if we make women use their psychic energy worrying about what they look like, and feeling insecure about their thigh canyons – that will chip into their life force… therefor making them distracted! I am pretty sure Stephen Hawking wasn’t freaking out about which wheelchair made him look chubby. Obsessing about beauty has become a prison of our own making.

    All humans are at their core artists. Everyone has creative energy – it just varies on how we choose to express it. Yet women are encouraged to put a vast majority of their creativity into their looks. This isn’t to say that sexy chicks aren’t bringing positivity into the world. It is nice to look at beautiful women. But at the same time, there are a variety of other outlets for you to pour that exertion into – like say, baking cookies.

    When I was a kid my mom told me I was beautiful every day of my life. You’d think that would make me vain, but it had the opposite effect. If made me feel like that was a meaningless statement. It made me stop caring. Yeah yeah yeah mom, sure I’m beautiful but did you know I could do a back flip? Could we talk about that shit?

    Because I have a daughter, I am extra concerned with her future relationship to beauty. I don’t want her to be defined by it, afraid of it, or confined by it. She is a pretty girl and there is no reason to pretend otherwise, but that doesn’t mean she needs to over think it’s meaning. The Munch should honor her natural beauty and see it as a gift, but it’s not more precious then her winning personality and genius mind… a brain that makes up songs like “a penis is an instrument that nobody wants to play.” WHICH IS A REAL GODDAMN SONG SHE WROTE!!!!

    This chick don’t give any fucks

    munch goggles bike

    August 31, 2016 • Current Events, Musings, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 5274

  • When You Have Nothing To Give But Forgiveness

    The thing about family that is both comforting and challenging is that much like a herpes infection, they never go away. They’re not always there, but when they show up, chances are there will be some soreness. Yet most of us value family and want to maintain that connection, despite the inflammation they may cause.

    Now that the matriarch of my family has died, I wonder what will be the link that binds us together. My grandmother was the last of her generation, and we no longer have a point at the top of the triangle of our family tree. It’s all just branches scattering off into different parts of the world. My grandmother’s womb was the origin zenith which sprouted these many beings, and now we have to find different motives to share time and space.

    I have an idealistic vision when it comes to family. I believe in the relevance that our DNA binds us through quantum ties, and that we are uniquely connected through our chemical make up. Knowing my family ultimately means knowing myself. We were cut from the same physical cloth, even though we are not all the same psychological tribe of people. We all process the world very differently, and yet we all share a similar frame of reference. Some of us rebelled against it, some of us dove into it, but there is a culture that prevails.

    But how do families stay together? How do you keep the same people in your life for the entirety of it? By seeing them less? Or seeming them more?

    I crave the life long relationships. When I seek out relationships, I tend to do so with a fervor that says “guess what, we are in this together – FOREVER!” The friends I make, I make hard. I don’t have casual acquaintances. If you are going get to know me, we are going to go in deep. Unless you do something really brutal to me, like rape my cat in front of my child, chances are I will be committed to you for life. I can’t think of one person who I’ve loved who I’m not still there for.

    I think my commitment to family and friends stems from my best friend dying when we were 20. It was such a crucial and painful moment in my life, and it shaped my worldview completely. It is through that experience I came to see how precious human life is. People aren’t disposable. Even when they suck super hard… and are really annoying and shitty… and you want to shake them like British nanny they are being suck a prick, I will tolerate it and try to work through the bullshit.

    Through our family (and the friends that become family) we find true intimacy. The better you get to know someone; the more comfortable you are around them. The more another person knows you, the greater the opportunity for you to know yourself. The less we posture and hide our vulnerabilities, the more we can delve into the chasm of our own psyches. The value of commitment is having a witness to your personal growth and evolution, but that can only truly take place when you allow that person fully into your heart.

    Yet the irony of my wanting this intertwining of spirits is that the opposite is also true. The more someone knows you, the more they can emotionally eviscerate you. The more capable they are of tearing apart your weaknesses and slapping you in the face with them. The more deeply insulting it is when they misunderstand you. The more time for resentment, bitterness, disappointment to build up like plaque, and no matter how hard we try to brush it off, it’s hard to let go of the pain people cause.

    Seriously, people can be such selfish assholes.

    We are all emotionally damaged. We all have our moments of immaturity. We are all dealing with the primal wounds of childhood and reenacting them in destructive ways. The only way to work through the emotionally complexity of how imperfect we are as humans is through the practice of forgiveness.

    Every goddamn day we have to forgive. We have to truly move on from the past, and recognize that everyone is always growing. We have to let go of the mistakes. We have to forgive people fully and leave room for them to change. We have to know that they are moving towards being the best versions of themselves, and the road to get their will be messy.

    I will leave you with a story where I had to ask forgiveness. I horrible story, that is made from the stuff of nightmares.

    The Munch had her little friend sleep over and as kids tend to do, she brought a LOT of stuff. Bags of toys, pajamas, sleeping bags, nighttime equipment etc… The kid needed a Sherpa for all her gear.

    Munch’s friend had forgotten one of her backpacks at my house, so I left it by the door of my porch so I would remember to give it back. I noticed a small plastic bag also near the door, so I figured it belonged to Munch’s friend. Over the next few days I would move the backpack around to clean, and also move the small plastic bag – assuming I was doing a good thing. When it came time to finally return the backpack, I took the small plastic bag, and stuffed it into the backpack so the precious contents wouldn’t get lost.

    I was trying to be a good mom right!?

    Ten days later I received this text.

    “So I unpacked the backpack left at your house, and inside was a plastic Wal-Mart bag with two tissues and two very dead mice dried up inside. Do you have any idea how they got in there?”

    So basically this mom thought I was sending her kid home with some sort of demonic message. Like I was The Godfather, or Glenn Close in “Fatal Attraction.” Maybe she thought her kid was part of a satanic ritual and this was my initiation!

    I had to call her up and explain that I didn’t purposefully send her daughter home with carrion in her bag!!!!!!! I later realized my friend who had been visiting was kind enough to pick up the dead mice killed by my cat, but didn’t know where to put them – so she left them by the door thinking she would discuss with me later… but then forgot. I then gingerly moved the carcasses around for days, thinking I was doing the right thing…


    The mom forgave me though, because luckily our daughters are friends for life so she had no choice.

    Here is my face in a toilet…

    toni face in toilet

    August 11, 2016 • Family Drama, Musings, Relationships • Views: 555

  • Making Memories Isn’t Always Easy

    The thing that sucks about growing up is that we get too attached to our mundane patterns of existence. You wake up, go to work, come home, cook food, watch TV, and go to bed. Maybe every once in a while you go out to dinner, get laid, or attend a party where you awkwardly chat until you’re tipsy enough to flirt with someone you’re not supposed to. But even when fun presents itself we often shy away because, “we have to get up early the next day.” So we say “no” to taking ecstasy on the beach with a bunch of strangers with lotus flowers weaved into their blond dreads – even though maybe 10 years ago you would have been the one dry humping the waves.

    Now that I’m in my 30’s, I have different priorities than I did in my 20’s – my work, making my work meaningful, and being successful at work. Oh yeah and my child/family/personal growth/health… snore I just feel asleep. There are more meaningful parts of my life that pull me away from frivolous fun because I know that I have to work hard in order to get the work done. Oh and also spend time with people I love.

    Even though I may not be as reckless as I was in my past, I still feel this undying urge to break out of my own shell. I don’t want to lose myself in a schedule, or in a regime of my own making. When my weeks blend together like an amorphous routine, time becomes indistinguishable. I find myself wondering, “Did that happen that last week, or 7 months ago?”

    The days of doing cocaine on a rooftop may be behind me (probably because more than my soul blew away that evening), but that doesn’t mean I want to live everyday like I did the last. The way I make memories is not by doing the same thing day in and day out, but instead by doing something out of the ordinary.

    When I do something unusual it makes me think of conformity, and reminds me how desperately I want to push against the status quo. I used to do that with bong hits and watching conspiracy theories, but that resulted in eating a lot of cereal. I want to be responsible, but I don’t want to be conventional. I want to be doing things that other people aren’t because being on the fringes of culture is where I like to be – it’s just that now I have to be more creative about finding those moments.

    ESPECIALLY BECAUSE I LIVE IN THE WOODS and am hard pressed to be seduced into making bad decisions by hanging out with the wrong trees.

    In my quest towards making memories I do things that challenge me, scare me, or make me uncomfortable. The more I struggle through something, the more it imprints in my psyche. So if something is hard, you bet your sweet ass I am going to try and do it.

    So last full moon I decided I wanted to bathe under its luminescence and swim across the lake. Now, this is not my first time doing this. Swimming across the lake is something I have done for most of my adult life. The lake has a 3.5-mile circumference, so you do the math of how far that is because I cheated in high school geometry. The probably with this adventure was not the act itself, but the fact that it was the coldest day of the summer at 55 degrees.

    I asked my friend to join me, and she was down… yet as the day went on, we had our doubts. All afternoon it rained, and my friend and I went back and forth on whether or not it was worth it. The rain stopped so we met up, but still deliberated. We sat in our sweatshirts and looked out at the dark water – smoking weed and losing our courage. We took off our clothes and dipped in our toes, both shivering uncontrollably.

    My Friend: Should we do this?
    Toni: I don’t know. I am getting eaten alive my mosquitos though.
    My Friend: What should we do?
    Toni: We don’t have to do it?
    My Friend: But maybe we should?
    Toni: Let’s do it.
    My Friend: But it’s so fucking cold.
    Toni: I know. We don’t have to if we don’t want to.
    My Friend: But we’re here.
    Toni: So let’s go.
    My Friend: But I’m freezing.
    Toni: We have to decide this is crazy.
    My Friend: So what should we do?

    Come to think of it, maybe being stoned was not helping our decision making process.

    My Friend: If you go – I will follow you. But I’m not going to be the one who makes this happen.

    I counted to 3, and dove under. I swam as fast as I could until my body no longer felt numb, and then looked up. Around the corner I could see the moon rising, and it was SO FUCKING WORTH IT!

    It seemed insane that we were the only people making this life choice that night. Yes it was cold. Yes it is cozier inside. But nothing could rival the beauty we experienced, and it was only highlighted by the effort it took to be there. It’s like we were in on a secret that no one else knew. If you push past the discomfort, there is a glory to behold that is a much greater gift.

    For the next hour, my friend and I swam towards the open arms of the full moon. We talked, laughed, thought, and dreamed. From the second we submerged ourselves we were so grateful that we had. Everything that we went through, the struggle, the cold, the indecision, made it all the more memorable.

    I realized something about myself in the middle of that lake. I almost need things to be hard and arduous to fully lose myself in the process. My friend is the type of person who could just go for a night swim. She could swim around, enjoy her self, and then get out. But not me. I’m the type of person that’s either swimming across a fucking lake or not at all.

    When I do something with a specific goal, like getting to the other side of the lake, I can let go of thinking about all the discomfort of getting there. I don’t allow myself to dwell on how my body is cold, or that my neck is tired from holding my head up. Anytime my mind wanders to complaining, I just say, “Well there’s nothing you can do until you get to the other side – so think of something else.” Having a goal keeps me in the moment. It frees me up from thinking about all the things that make it challenging, and anchors my mind in the present. It’s when I’m in that kind of headspace that there is the potential for spiritual awakening. When I am not thinking, but being. That is when I am most myself. When I am most creative. When my heart is most open to listening to my soul’s cries.

    lake swim weather

    August 4, 2016 • Adventures, Musings • Views: 668

  • Death, Doughnuts, and Defecation

    Returning to my blog is kind of like coming back to an ex lover. I know I can eventually get off, but it’s gonna take work to get there. Mostly because I already know how everything can go terribly wrong.

    The month I was filming my movie was intense. My cinematographer and DP is a vampire who doesn’t sleep, so he insisted we film at sunrise because blah blah blah magic hour zzzzzzzzz. I’m the kind of lady that leisurely wakes after the last rooster has been slaughtered at my command, so I would have preferred if we just drank the blood of virgins instead.

    We got into a groove and became increasingly manic as the days went on. If we happened to have a break in the filming schedule, we would make a short film, or a music video to pass the time –we both entered into a frenzied state of hysteria. The seduction of the muse was so alluring that I think we became the bottom in a BSDM relationship with creativity.

    Retrospectively I realize that a huge part of my impulse to create is because it anchors my mind. It gives me something to think about, and having that structure helps me stay sane. When I listen to music I envision dances in my head. When I have no one to talk and nothing to distract me, I daydream about scripts I want to write and stories I want to tell. But when I don’t have anything creative going on, my mind wanders into a land of anxiety. I think about the past, conversations I wish I had, future events that will never happen, people I can’t control… Thinking about my actual life is way more boring than thinking about the made up lives of characters in my head.

    My creative drive keeps me on the road of mental stability, even though most of the things I create are mentally unstable.

    In the midst of filming my grandmother died. My mom called to tell me the news, and I realized I was eating a doughnut the moment her spirit traveled into the other dimension. It was a delicious treat, but it felt kind of strange to think that the person you owe your heritage to can die while you gingerly enjoy a yeasty delight. Then I had to continue moving forward with the filming because I had been planning it for months so what could I do? It’s kind of surreal how quickly life moves on. I was like “oh she died… and scene.”

    My grandmother had been sick and was suffering quite a bit. One of the last times I saw her she told me “I don’t want to leave the party, but I don’t like the way I am dancing.” We both agreed this was a pretty amazing metaphor, and congratulated her on her poetic phrasing. I have a lot of respect for a person who even when they are in their weakest time; they still have the strength to recognize their own epic quote. She was right though, the party will go on, but what’s the point of being there if you can’t get down?

    I don’t think it’s a tragedy when an 89-year-old person dies, yet I did feel sad. Not the kind of sad that elicits an outburst of emotion, but more a subtle sorrow. She had been my neighbor for the past 6 years so I saw her all the time. I didn’t have any regrets, or anything I wish I had said. I felt like I had closure, and genuinely learned a lot about life through her process of dying. In a way it’s a great gift to experience the end of someone’s life. It’s of course hard to watch them physically and mentally deteriorate, but at the same time I had this rare exposure to what she thought about during her final months.

    My grandmother’s mind was totally preoccupied with feelings about relationships – she had 6 kids, 9 grandchildren, 2 husbands, many friends, and a big family. She reminisced constantly, both about good times and bad, and didn’t care about much else. When we are dying I think we tend to think most about how we treated those we love. When our minds go lucid, memories of people are what will traverse our consciousness. Yes we all have ambitions, ways we distract ourselves, superficial concerns… but it’s our connection to others that will have the greatest pull in the end. The more strings you tie with care, the more your heart will feel secure as the spaces between the beats grows longer.

    The Munch would visit her great-grandmother a lot during her final months. Munch wasn’t fazed by my grandmother’s oxygen mask, the wheel chair, the fading ability to communicate, or her increasingly frail physique. Munch was lighthearted about it all, and saw my grandmother as a “legend that would always live on – like ‘My Little Pony’.” A week after the death my friend asked Munch how she felt about it. Munch just looked into her eyes for almost a full minute then said, “I didn’t want her to die.” I think we all feel that way. We knew death was going to happen, but we didn’t want it to.

    The death hung over me for the rest of the film shoot, but in a way it also protected me. I didn’t really have to process it because I was so overwhelmed with the task at hand. When the movie was done, it was like I had given birth, and lost a lot of blood. I was exhausted and all my life force had been drained out of me, but unfortunately I didn’t have any placenta to make soup out of ☹

    The crew was gone and because no one was around to film me I started to have a hard time appreciating life. Everything felt so meaningless. I would watch my daughter run through a field of wild flowers at sunset and feel so much regret that I wasn’t recording it. What was the point of this beauty if I didn’t have my camera to capture the moment!!?? Look at all these sun flares – am I just supposed to remember this perfect lighting and not show it to any one else while I edit in more reds??!!!

    I knew I was supposed to “relax” and take it easy, but it’s not relaxing for me to relax. It takes work!! I would sit outside under a shady tree and spend the entire time waiting for it to be over. It was really stressful.

    I figured I should go see my hippy healer and get some healing done. That would put my soul at ease right? And maybe that would have been a good idea, but instead my healer told me I had parasites. PS…. THAT WAS NOT WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR!! She put gave me some herbs and I left her place looking forward to shitting out worms for the next few weeks.

    I took my new age tinctures and went to bed dreading the next morning. It was a living nightmare – wondering what was going to crawl out of my anus the next day. Every bowel excretion I envisioned an army of critters having a mass exodus out my ass. I was so afraid to look… but OF COURSE I DID ANYWAY! So far it’s been two weeks and I still haven’t seen any serpents in my feces, but maybe that’s because I didn’t poke around enough.

    Look at these fucking sun flares!!!!!!! And am I seriously supposed to drive around now and not have a reflector to catch the light?

    toni abner elise family filming

    abner filming toni

    July 21, 2016 • Musings • Views: 826

  • Taking a Break to LIVE MY DREAMS

    Holy shit you guys! It’s been 6 years that I have been writing Toni Bologna!! Who would have known I had so many vagina jokes in me! I can’t believe it!

    For the first time since the birth of this baby I am going to need to take a break. I am already sad. The thought of this just gave me hives and anal leakage.

    The reason why I am taking this hiatus is because I am going try and live my dreams for a moment and make a feature film.

    Holy shit… writing that makes me feel like a crazy person who is mostly likely delusional. Hold me!

    I will be back in exactly 3 weeks. In that time here are my predictions of what is going to go down.

    1) I will think of the most amazing joke involving labia and then weep terribly for I will have no venue to express myself.
    2) Donald Trump will resign from being the republican nominee and form his own political party called “Orange You Glad I’m Gonna Take Over the World.” Bernie Sanders will lose the democratic nomination because of super duper pooper-scooper delegates and also from his own political party called “Kale Today Gone Tomorrow.”
    3) I will finally come up with the perfect metaphor involving the shedding of uterine lining and the corporate take over of the lizard elite.

    I will see you guys back in JULY!!! Please don’t forget me. The thought of you not thinking of me just disrupted my colon so deeply that I may or may not have just shat out my mouth.


    June 9, 2016 • Musings • Views: 1114

  • Learning To Live With your Inner Demons

    If you see a bug in your house, how do you react? Do you kill it? Do you trap it and release it outside? Do you call it a monster and shame it so severely that it’s self- esteem crumbles and it commits suicide?

    I have done all of the above. There was a point where the fear of an exoskeleton was so great that I would murder it viciously with a shoe, book, or in one case a used condom – drowning it in my misery. Then I started doing yoga and became all newagey and one with the universe or whatever the fuck, and I started capturing all of god’s creatures and freeing them outside to live their destiny while gifting them with my positive intentions. Looking back on that time, I realize that it was actually the same spider that just kept coming back in over and over again.

    Now when I see a bug in my house now you know what I do? Nothing. I just acknowledge its presence and hope it doesn’t crawl into my mouth while I’m sleeping and lay eggs.

    I feel like this is all a metaphor for my personal demons. There are many ways of which I deal with, or try to cope with the darkness inside me. Yet no matter what my strategy, there are going to be insects of my self-destruction crawling around inside my consciousness. The common solution to an infestation is to have an exterminator come and bomb your house with chemicals, and maybe that is often what we do to ourselves? We often rely on substances to free us from the contamination of our thoughts. I guess all that acid I did in high school was an attempt Raid my mind? And the coke I did later… and ecstasy… and the one or two times I tried meth. YOU GET THE GIST!

    There are desperate times when I feel plague ridden with vermin, yet in my attempts to create a manageable ecosystem where my psyche is not overrun by parasites, the solution is not to kill everything in sight. The more reasonable idea is to get the numbers down.

    Bugs are part of nature’s plan no matter how gross and yucky their gnarly crunchy little bodies are, much like the shadow side of our humanity is part of our experience on planet earth. We can’t poison all the bugs without killing all of life, much like we can’t ever truly get rid of the negative thoughts and still be alive. Unless you are enlightened, chances are if you are breathing air, every one in a while your mind will come up with some shitty shit.

    I live in the country so I have to co-habitat with many bugs. Yet when I see their creepy little physiques I think how we are not that different. I force myself to accept that I can live with them because they are the physical manifestation of my journey to become an evolved person and how I will come across plenty of creepy-crawlies inside myself as well.

    Well, well, well… so we meet again.


    June 1, 2016 • Musings • Views: 816