RedHead Confetti

Today is "Good Friday", the Friday that Christians believe their God-man Jesus was crucified first thing in the morning, died in the afternoon and was buried-- just in time for Passover to start tonight at dusk (Jewish holidays start the evening before). Today is also a banking holiday, and often a day off of school for American school kids. In Germany we didn't have school Good Friday or Easter Monday-- they were both banking holidays, although usually our spring break was called "Easter" break, and started Friday. My children are scattered through my house reading PC Gamer , a Horus Heresy book, or randomly torturing each other-- it's what kids do, or well, my kids anyway. They had spring break last week, school for four days this week, and now another long weekend. Their AIMs start next week-- those would be the standardised tests that prove the school has managed to teach them something this year. I'm not sure how I feel about those tests, but t...

It's hard to describe a cult to someone who hasn't been in one. But at it's most basic, a cult is a group, led by an often charismatic leader that cuts itself off from everything “outside”. Inside, insularity rules; it's us versus them, and we're most holy. Everything that makes you question, everything that makes you doubt, it's evil, the Devil, Satan deceiving you! It must be cut off, removed, cut out. Otherwise, you're going to hell. Scientology is a cult, as are several splintered off Jewish, Christian and Muslim sects. So, is the Protestant sect most often known as the Independent Fundamental Baptist Church. I'm sure not all IFBC's are cult-like. But I've been churched in four of them over almost twenty years, and they all taught the exact same, evil, insular, we're better than everyone else, because we're more holy gospel. If you find one that isn't, you've found your unicorn. Good luck with that. When I turn...

Trigger Warning: This post is about the purity myth, the protection of virginity at the cost of a girl's self-esteem and self-worth, it's about my sexual experiences as a teen, and how it warped shit badly for me. It's also how I got through it. If sexually active teens offends, or talking about a non-consensual sexual experience will set off your triggers, please don't read this. I'm OK now, and I will unpack rape later, I gloss over it here, because it isn't important to my central premise. If you haven't heard of it before, I urge you to read the book by the same name by Jessica Valenti. She talks about how difficult it is for women in today's society, either we're Madonna or Whore. We're either virgins, or have “lost something precious”. It's fascinating, horrifying, and there's even a short docu that I watched.  What got me thinking about this, though, how it touched me, was nothing more than a random thought last ni...

Trigger Warning: I'm going to rant and rave about Evangelical Christianity. If you are one, and you find this rant hits too close to home, then instead of yelling at me about it: take a good long look at your life, and change it to be more like your Jesus and less like the fabled Pharisees.  I promise, there's a very good reason why I put their book on my blog. Otherwise, I'd only indulge in spreading the lascivious, sexy, over the top awesome, Song of Solomon, the sexually explicit love poem/song between a man and his beloved wife. Just bear with me . “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others . Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.     But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.      And when yo...

That old proverb about a journey beginning with one step is always true, no matter how  clichéd it seems. Today I'll take some first steps, and start this blog off right, by talking about my childhood. At least a little. It's contrariness and general oddity will probably go miles into helping me understand me... the real reason anyone writes is to know themselves, after all. I hope I don't lose you. If so, let me know, and I'll circle back and pick you up. I'm the oldest of three. My mother and Dad married young, and Dad worked at the paper mill. I lived in a (now) fairly big city not too far from Kalamazoo, Michigan. Most of my peers had parents who worked at James River's or Manasha, or Plainwell Paper, (all three paper mills) or the various steel mills. We were poor, everyone was poor, but we were well fed and had plenty of space to grow and play outside. Dad worked seven days a week, "swing". That's when you work 11p-7a one week; then switc...