Equality, and Some Feels:

Dear Ex-Girlfriend of Mine,

You were the still center of the spinning world. 

I was eighteen, and confused. This was the first time I was acting on feelings that I had always had since before I even understood what they meant. This was something that at one time I had considered morally impossible. 

I loved you, completely, and felt compelled to hide it from every person I knew. 

I was scared, and ashamed for feeling like I was perhaps even a little gay. 

I liked boys, but girls were pretty, that person who looked like a girl was pretty, and that girl with the short hair who dressed like a boy had something pretty foxy going on--I was so scared of everything. 

It would take me years, long after you left, for me to realize that my sexual identity is fluid, and importantly--that it's okay. 

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. 

Just keep repeating that, Ashlee. 

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. 

I've apologized to you in my head and in my heart for years and years. 

Sometimes I look you up, and i see that we both have partners, and we're both happy. Your happiness makes my spirit fly. You deserve every happiness, and on this special day, I've finally found the nerve to put into words everything I've been feeling these long years. 

I am sorry that when you asked me why I would never introduce you as my girlfriend to my family and friends that I was a coward, and told you they would never accept us. 

It was 2008. I was living at home, surrounded by everything and everyone against the idea of us, and I hadn't learned yet to be brave, to be me. 

When you ended it, I respected you. 

I respected that you knew you were worth more than what I could offer you at the time. 

In the years we haven't spoken, my family became more tolerant, my circle of friends changed, and now I couldn't imagine life without the beautiful, accepting people I have in it. 

I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough then to create a world for us where we could be safe. I didn't want to be rejected. I was so angry, and tired, and disoriented. Things turned out wonderfully for us both, but I am still so very, very sorry that I hurt you so badly. 

This is your day, this is our day. 

Today we see the image of what we could have been reflected in the smiles of thousands and thousands of people lining up for marriage licenses as I write this right now. I am so happy my heart could burst. 

I still love you, dear friend, dear girl, wonderful girl.

Congratulations, to our wonderful, wonderful memories, and their validity.

Ash

Why I Identify As Liberal, and What It Means To Me.

I feel like I'm starting this off as a high school paper, and for good reasons!
These days, I feel like I'm in fucking high school with all of this political nonsense being thrown my way from biased sources that really knew nothing about politics (and probably still don't) not too long ago.

First of all, the title of this little "rant" piece is appropriate: I am a goddamn liberal.

No fluff. No denial.

Yet, what people associate with this term often comes with a very negative notation that I would like to take this opportunity to correct.

Firstly, I am a woman. I am a woman who thinks very long, and very hard about every step I take in life. I have accepted government assistance through a loan for my college education, and that is the extent of that. I work to pay my bills. I live a moderate, comfortable life.

On the outside, this is very normal. On the outside, this is accepted by generally everyone because this behavior is common. Now, it is only whenever my internal views conflict with others, shit hits the fan.

Identifying as a liberal in an environment of "conservative" minds can be extremely vexing. I am often faced with harsh and unfounded criticism, odd comments, and sometimes utter confusion. The confusion is usually caused by people who simply cannot wrap their heads around why I believe what I believe, when there is so much proof that ignorance and a closed mind (and interchanging the words socialism and communism as if they mean the same thing) are so effective!

In other words, I am a liberal yankee bitch because...

I am pro-choice. This simply means that I believe in the choice for all women. This means, not that I would necessarily choose abortion myself, but that I believe in other women's right to choose what is best for them. This means I do not make another woman's decisions for her. 

I believe in one's right to be politically ambiguous. I will be clear about my views, but only when I choose to. This is my prerogative. I don't need to tell you who I'm voting for. It's none of your business. I will not let my emotions cloud my good judgement, and I will not tell you that you are wrong for believing what you believe.

I believe in equality. I have heard some people say that they aren't racist, and then they refuse to give someone a chance because of their color. I have seen it done, and it disgusts me. I used to be racist, because it was how I was raised. When I dropped other ignorant ideals, this was one. I never fathomed that it was right to discriminate...I was an innocent child told to do so. I am now an adult who does not.

And finally, I just want to be left alone for who I am. I just want to be passed off without a double-take because I like the gays and don't think my life is all that bad.

People, we live in a first-world country. This is not Uganda. You are very fortunate. If you're reading this right now, chances are you have a bed to sleep in at night. Stop bitching about the economy, and consume less if you want more in your pocket. It's simple as that.

Stop.

I really don't know why the term "liberal" scares so many, because I'm not the one trying to change what other people need to believe to get them to fall asleep at night.

All I'm saying is, leave my beliefs alone.
Leave this dumb liberal bitch alone, in her whore hole, with her birth control and rainbow flag.

My Womb, Not Yours.

As I sit here and watch the Republican summit, I'm feeling a strange sensation that I simply cannot ignore...

I'm usually not very "out" about my political affiliation. Personally, I think it's tacky for people to constantly jabberjaw about something so uninteresting. But at this moment, I feel the need to be as nude as the news--isn't this always what happens when people watch too much Fox News?

I guess it's because this completely irritating subjection of women keeps occurring over and over and over again--the shiny toy of this ridiculous political game. No offense to the gays (being 1/2 a fag myself), but I wish their marital rights were at the forefront of this race now more than ever...if only to cease my seemingly constant annoyance these days.

But nay, it appears that the topic on the tips of these suited-up asshats tongues appears to be the Woman and her Womb.

Between all of these fuckers with their slicked-back hair and their more-righteous-than-thou-art monologues--I'm getting really, really weary.

"Legitimate Rape"
"Abortion is Murder" 
"Moral Law"

I am a modern woman, who has usually indifferent, and sometimes ambiguous, ideas of abortion.
Why?
Because I've never been pregnant, and therefore I have no real right to have an opinion on what I would do when faced with that sort of responsibility.

Honest to god, I do not know what I would do...so, I reserve my right to not say what I would do--because, when I have previously debated the topic, I was faced with certain hostility upon being perfectly honest. Most likely because, when faced with the "morality issue", I can only say:

I'm sorry, but as a modern woman in a modern age, I REFUSE TO BE A PRACTICAL SLAVE TO MY REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS.

I mean, I have my own opinions on all of these matters of course, and you do too. Looking at these men up on this podium, preaching about civil liberties whilst directly contradicting what's coming out of their mouths is absolutely sickening to me.
This is America, people...opinions, options, differences, that's what makes us.

 It pisses me off that there's this guy talking about fetuses being human lives, and how when he's in office he'll do everything he can to insure that abortion will be illegal.
Firstly, he'll never be pregnant himself, ever (unless he's trans, and still possesses a vagina under the ill-fitting crotch of his designer pants)...so why is he educating me on what is right in my reproductive system?
Why is he insisting he make this choice FOR ME?
And for that matter, no matter what each and every one of us believes, there are ALWAYS exceptions to everything. There is never just one answer.

So, let's say this poor girl is walking home from school, and she's backed up against a wall by a child predator. She's raped. She somehow survives, and stumbles home to her Christian parents. Being a good Christian girl, she decides to have the baby. At some point in her pregnancy, she encounters a life-threatening obstacle which forces her to make a very adult decision--abort the baby and live, or do not abort the baby and die.

The civil liberty OWED to this poor girl, is her ability to choose her path.
And would you dare to judge her, should she choose the option you do not agree with?

It is not my problem if you don't believe in what I believe. My problem is with the male section of this bi-partisan tango (which, let's face it, is majority), trying to tell ME, a WOMAN OF AGE, what I can and cannot do with my fucking body.

I stand up for you, the woman who does not believe in abortion, has nineteen kids, and raise them all in a Christian household.
I stand up for you, the single teenager raising a child in front of the glaring eye of a reality television camera.
I stand up for you, the rape victim who chose an abortion as a concentrated decision to not have to face her attacker again.
As women, we must stand up and respect each and all of our decisions, for they were made on our own accord and with our own beliefs in mind--preserved for us by a government built on the fundamentals of freedom.

Women throughout history have been used as tools for what their wombs can provide, and based on this knowledge, I have chosen to have my own mind and to make my own decisions. And, since I have a voice, I will use it. I will use it to combat all of this ridiculous anti-woman mumbo-fucking-jumbo.

I am a registered Libertarian.
I am a woman.
I have a womb, and you will not tell me what I can and cannot do with it. 

To Whom It May Concern.

Dear Odd Neighbor, Boring Office Job Insurance Guy, Relatives, Friends of Friends, Parents of Friends, Etc,

When I was young, I wanted to be a lion. I was told I could not be a lion, that it simply wasn't possible that a little girl could grow up to be a lion. I was confused. I had never considered that I couldn't be something. Teachers always told me "you can be anything you want to be".

I wanted to be a goddamn lion.

In my head, I felt like a fricken lion. During gym class for "capture the flag", when a member of the opposing team would get close enough to me, I would fall on all fours and growl a ferocious growl. They would run away terrified, and I felt like I was on top of the world.

But when I was home, it wasn't okay to be a lion. I was admonished, and above all, I was told I COULD NOT BE A LION.

I gave up, and I never dropped on all fours and growled a ferocious growl again.

When I was eighteen, I wanted to write. I was told I could not be a writer, that it simply wasn't possible that a girl like me could make any money with a degree as a writer. I was confused. I knew I had a talent, and I knew that I was passionate about what I was doing.

I wanted to be a goddamn writer.

In my heart, I felt like a fricken writer. Every spare moment that I had, all during high school, I would scribble fantastic stories in my journal. I would create fantastic heroines of dramatic fiction, women who could hold their own and conquer any situation presented to them with elegance and wit. I felt like a winner.

But when I was home, it wasn't okay to be a writer. My efforts were ignored, and above all, I was told THERE IS NO MONEY IN BEING A WRITER, BE A NURSE INSTEAD--THERE IS ALWAYS A NEED FOR NURSES.

This letter is addressed to every single person who told me I "could not" be.

Here is a great big FUCK. YOU.

I wasted six years of grade school, four years of high school, and two years of my college life wondering why I was so confused, why I wasn't truly happy, why I was trapped into thinking I was never going to be anything that made me feel special.

I am glad that I eventually made up my mind to not listen to any of you. I am so, so glad that at the age of twenty I finally decided to embrace exactly who I am. I am glad that I am a fricken weirdo who growls ferociously.

People who spend their lives passionless are not living. People who are a slave to the idea that money is THE SOLE THING one needs to live are completely out of their goddamn minds. There will be money in what I do--not a lot of it, but it will be there.

I know I'll be okay, because I know what I have to do to achieve what I want to achieve. I know that my dreams are mine, and not yours. There is something so precious about identity, something so miraculous about realizing that everything you were conditioned to think is utter bullshit.

While you pray that I come to my senses and return to a mundane sanity, I'll get naked and press my tits up against your window singing Freedbird.

Isn't that what all drunk blondes from the South are supposed to sing, anyway?

Sincerely Yours,

One Fierce Lioness

The Truth of the Matter

A lot of people have often asked me why I decided to fall in love with a man who lives 5,000 miles away from me. I cannot tell you how many times I have stooped to explaining my relationship to people who are so incredibly ignorant.

Frankly, I did not decide to fall in love with anyone. Any person with slight knowledge of what love actually is, knows this weird phenomena is the one who does the picking and choosing--we, as people, are completely out of power.
As fate would have it, I fell in love with a man who is not from my country. And thankfully, fate was kind enough to have him fall in love with me.

Incredibly, I shouldn't have to explain this to anyone--but for the sake of getting records straight, I often do.

But now, I find myself in a troubling situation that is perhaps more infuriating than petty inquiries.

I'm marrying this man, and the entire ordeal the U.S. Department of Homeland Security is putting me through is completely disgraceful.

I am a law-abiding American citizen who wishes to marry a British subject, and bring him to the U.S. legally in order to do so. This should not seem so difficult, as we have been in a stable relationship for two years or so, and have known each other for four. We have incredible and extensive evidence of our relationship, and are able to prove that we are legitimately together and have been for a long time.

It shouldn't be so difficult to do what we wish to do then, correct?

Wrong. Very wrong.

In order to apply for what is known as the "Fiance Visa", you must first create a box of the timeline of your relationship. This wasn't very hard to do, only time-consuming, and honestly very annoying. In this box, you must include the payment for the filing of this visa in the form of a money order, which has been recently adjusted to $340.

Mind you, this box has been returned to me twice since our initial filing in April.

The first time was understandable, as I had carelessly forgotten to sign one important document in the box that needed my signature in order to be filed.

The second time was for a petty and ridiculous reason that I still cannot fathom.

The website on which you find the information on how to file this ridiculous thing is two shots away from being complete and utter shit.

We had initially sent $350 in the box, which was what the website had said was the amount needed. Upon being sent back the second time, we are informed this is the wrong amount to send. Doing research, we see that the amount to send has been changed, indeed lowered--to $340.

What in the name of god, U.S. Department of Homeland Security, are you going to send back and entire fucking box of information because I overpaid you $10?

Let's put this into perspective: In order to reissue the money order, there is a fee of $5, and in order to send the box back to you, it is a fee of at least $15 depending on the size and weight of the package.
So, in essence, you have put me through all of this trouble and disappointment in order for me to give you an extra $10 to put in your pocket...

With the number of illegal immigrants in this country, you would think living in obscurity and swindling the government may be entirely more appealing than doing things the right way...

Les Lettres Romantiques

There is perhaps nothing I enjoy more than antiques. The age and the delicacy of these items elate me--the materials, the stories they tell. And while one can look at a particular item for hours longing for the story beneath, there is perhaps nothing more telling than a love letter of old.

So, I've decided to collect excerpts from some of my favorite love letters in history--to pay homage to some of these wonderful, thrilling tales--the grotesque, sexual, brazen, and passionate.



"--Methinks I could write a volume to you; but all the language on earth would fail in saying how much, and with what disinterested passion, I am yours ever."

Richard Steele to Mary Scurlock
1 September 1707


"--Oh, my dear, I can't be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don't love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defenses. And I don't really resent it."

Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf
21 January 1927


"--I went away from you. I have had three more sherries. I vowed I would never see you again, but I cannot keep my vow. Albiet I come back to my love for you."

Caradoc Evans to Oliver Sandys 
9 June 1930


"--My good qualities have been so frozen and locked up in a dull constitution at all my former sober hours, that it is very astonishing to me, now I am drunk, to find so much virtue in me..."

Alexander Pope to Martha Blount


"--When shall we pass a day alone? I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love--but if you should deny me the thousand and first--t'would put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through. If you should ever carry your threat yesterday into execution--believe me 'tis not my pride, my vanity nor any petty passion would torment me--really 'twould hurt my heart--I could not bear it..."

John Keats to Fanny Brawne 
11 October 1819


"--I love you terribly today. The whole world is gone. There is only you. I walk about, dress, eat, write--but all the time I am breathing you..."

Katherine Mansfield to John Middleton Murry 
28 March 1915


"--If I look at nature with the eyes of a sensitive reader, when I hear music or see paintings or--but why go on with a list of all the things which have come to life in me only through you?"

Alban Berg to Helene Nahowski
Spring 1909 


"--My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again--my Life seems to stop there--I see no further. You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving--I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you. I should be afraid to separate myself far from you."

John Keats to Fanny Brawne
13 October 1819


"Not believe that I love you? You cannot pretend to be so incredulous. If you do not believe my tongue, consult my eyes, consult your own. You will find by yours that they have charms; by mine that I have a heart which feels them."

William Congreve to Arabella Hunt 
1690


"--There is so much you want to know. I remember your phrase: 'Only whores appreciate me.' I wanted to say: you can only have blood-consciousness with whores, there is too much mine between us, too much literature, too much illusion--but then you denied there had been only mind...I love this strange, treacherous softness of you which always turns to hatred..."

Anais Nin to Henry Miller
9 March 1932

I Do...Not.

I'm pretty sure I was as shocked as everyone else was when my boyfriend asked me to marry him over the Christmas break this past December...

Our entire relationship has been this crazy whirlwind of circumstance.
We met, and fell in love, and it really isn't as complicated as people think it all is.

I mean, he's from England and all, and he's living there at the moment...but, still, in the grand scheme of things, it isn't entirely complicated.

Loving him has never been difficult. We don't live our lives asking questions. We just know we're in love and want to be together.

Well, promptly after he proposed, and we were driving back to my home town to break the news to everyone else...I was a little skiddish...

The last thing I wanted to do was tell everyone. I'm not the kind of person who likes to be thrown into the limelight. I don't like being the center of attention for the wrong reasons. I've always felt as if marriage is the sort of thing people should share between each other, and not with the entire world.

It just all ends badly if everyone knows the details--check it, Kim Kardashian.

So, when Richard finally convinced me to wear the ring home...I knew what was going to come.

Sure enough, everyone was up in my grill about it, particularly my mother.

I mean, I was flattered that everyone wanted to talk to me and such...but I was suddenly bombarded with attention from people who on the regular never gave a shit about anything else I had managed to accomplish--suddenly, I was thrust into the spotlight because of something that just happened to me, not something I earned.

Of course I understand that the epitome of most women's' existences in my hometown is to be married and have kids--but that's never the first thing I've wanted for myself.
In fact, it wasn't even on the list.
In fact, I couldn't have been more freakin thrown off about it.

And now that it's come down to the point of seriously planning the wedding, I've never felt more out of control.
I guess it was initially because I hadn't an idea about where to start, but then it became all about the show and not about the actual event.

I know my mother means well (somewhere, and somehow), but she took it upon herself to speak for me in every instance she could, and open her mouth about it to anyone and everyone she encountered.
Mind you, nothing I have ever done in my entire life has reached the accomplishment of finding my future husband.
Of course I find it all ridiculous.

What had started as my idea of an intimate ceremony with, perhaps, 50 or 60 people has turned into an event with 93 people...simply because of such a thing as protocol...something I don't really believe in.

Lots of girls say they can't wait to plan their weddings. If you're anything like me, of course you can.
If you're anything like me, elopement in the Florida Keys sounds like heaven on earth.

My initial idea, of course, was to elope.
But then, I got a visual of the disappointment it would bring to everyone in my family and his who wouldn't be able to see us get married before their very eyes. I think this is the first time I've sacrificed myself in a platter...

It's been really, really painful.
And frankly, it's hard to hold my tongue about it all.

It's hard to feel as if you have control when you simply don't.

But, this is the way I see it...

Everyone has their last chance to say goodbye to single Ashlee and Richard, and to be able to see us say our vows--

And afterward, they can leave us the fuck alone. (: