Politics. It isn't a subject I like to breech very often. All the conflicting ideas. People tend to get really upset when you don't see things their way. Human nature I suppose. Being the top of the food chain makes us a bit prideful at times. We get too wrapped up in the "I'm right and everyone else is wrong" attitude.
I have opinions, you have opinions, the other guy has opinions... blah blah blah. The deal is we all have our own thoughts, beliefs, and opinions. It is what makes us unique. It is what makes us human. Some disagree less and some don't agree on anything, but what we all have in common regardless of our beliefs, thoughts, or opinions is that we bleed red. Well unless you are an alien hiding among us humans with some weird blue white blood or something. The point is we are all human and we all have the right to vote.
Nothing burns me up more than to hear someone say they don't vote because it doesn't matter. We fought long and hard for this right. Blood mixes with sweat throughout history, some not so long ago, to ensure we have the right to vote. I for one fight a little tear each and every time I vote as I think of those who gave everything to ensure I had that right.
So no matter what you think or feel, find the candidates that align most with what is truly important to you and ensure you are registered to vote. It isn't hard and it isn't time consuming, but it is important. And don't forget that you aren't just voting for a president. There are many offices to fill and those offices will shape the future of our country. If you don't vote and it goes bad you've no one to blame but yourself. Your voice deserves to be heard. Now go get registered.
And that, ladies, gentlemen, and those in-between, was my public service announcement for the night. Until next time... BUBBLES!!!
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Small Town USA
I've heard of Small Town USA, but before now I'd never really experienced it. I had just assumed that it was exactly like larger towns only fewer people. I am never afraid to admit when I was wrong. Clearly this is one of those cases. In fact I've never been more wrong.
I realize I've been MIA for some time now and I have a good reason. I went back to school to be a medical assistant while working full time. It was a fast paced, 12 month, program that required all of my attention. So as you can imagine between the full time job and full time school I had no time for anything else. Sadly this meant putting my blog on the back burner. But I am back and ready to entertain once again. Especially since it would appear I am going to be jobless for a while.
So after graduating my partner and I moved to Trenton, TN. Don't bother looking for it on a map, it is a tiny pinprick. Suffice it to say it is north of Jackson, TN. At any rate since moving here I have come to feel the full shock of small towns.
As you may or may not know I like to dress to impress. What that means to me is not wearing the most expensive designer or the flashiest colors. I simply like to look nice. I like to match and I like to wear clothes that make me feel... well for lack of a better word... pretty. People in Trenton like to wear sweat shorts and T-shirts 3 sizes to large. I have no problem with this. I say people should wear whatever makes them feel comfortable. I personally am more comfortable when I feel like I look good. So I go to the market (yes, that is actually what we call it here) wearing what for me is a very normal outfit. Cyan with black stripes V-neck T, white-washed faded jeans with a few holes in just the right places, blue and black checkered slip on shoes, and a brown/blue plaid fedora. Some may consider this over the top, but I consider this normal attire. The faces that stared and jeered at me as I walked into that store seriously made me fear for my life. I was seriously afraid someone was going to jump me and beat me with a baseball bat. Now to be fair I am a tad paranoid of such things having heard stories in the news, but still. So I've decided it might be safer if I only wear my fedoras if I'm planning a trip to Memphis or Jackson. Here the extent of my dress will be jeans and a pull-over. Unless it is Sunday in which case I could wear a shirt and tie and no one would think anything at all odd about that.
Which brings me to my next story. Apparently here everyone doubles as a preacher. OK so maybe not everyone does, but our plummer does. When he first arrived he asked me if I was Jason and I of course said no I'm Chris. This caused him to ask who Jason was and I told him he is my partner the teacher who is at work currently. I thought nothing of it and moved on. Seemed like a perfectly normal conversation to me. I moved on to the back yard so I could stay out of their way. A little later he comes to the back yard to tell me all was fixed and then asks if I minded if he asked a personal question. I thought what the heck I knew it was coming sooner or later. We are after all only one of Trenton's two gay couples. (The other couple owns the feed store down the street. Or so it is rumored. I haven't actually met them.) So he proceeds to tell me he was impressed by my candor in admitting that Jason was my partner and then begins to ask very predictable questions; how long have I been with men, how long have I known, do we have a church, what can you tell me about Jesus... etc. So I did the only thing that made sense. I answered his questions truthfully and to the best of my ability and then began quoting scripture. Such as where Paul says to work out your own soul salvation with fear and trembling, thus saying to worry about yourself and leave others to do the same without meddling. And then my all time favorite judge not lest ye be judged. Which pretty much says the same thing. I would have went farther, but since he was clearly shocked by my quoting scripture at him I decided to stop. Poor thing. He was all ready to be the first to witness to the new gay couple, but instead got a little sermon of his own. I believe it took him off guard.
And my last and final qualm with Small Town USA is the stress of finding a job. I won't say much on this subject as there isn't much to say. Frankly I don't even begin to understand it. If I were still in Knoxville I would have had at least four or five job offers by now. Here I have applied for everything I'm even remotely qualified for and not even a single call. I have what I believe to be a pretty impressive resume. I should think it would have warranted at least one call from the dozens of places I've applied. Apparently I am mistaken once again. I don't know what these small town places are looking for, but it clearly is not me.
So having said all of that I ask you... How do I begin to understand Small Town USA? Cause right now I'm at a total loss. Until I do, however, I've decided to dive into my crocheting. I've tried selling my works before and I doubt now will be any different, but at least it is something to do. So stay tuned to my store www.etsy.com/princeyuri for my creations born of boredom.
So with the question of "where am I?" Ladies, Gentlemen, and those in-between I bid you all... BUBBLES!!!
I realize I've been MIA for some time now and I have a good reason. I went back to school to be a medical assistant while working full time. It was a fast paced, 12 month, program that required all of my attention. So as you can imagine between the full time job and full time school I had no time for anything else. Sadly this meant putting my blog on the back burner. But I am back and ready to entertain once again. Especially since it would appear I am going to be jobless for a while.
So after graduating my partner and I moved to Trenton, TN. Don't bother looking for it on a map, it is a tiny pinprick. Suffice it to say it is north of Jackson, TN. At any rate since moving here I have come to feel the full shock of small towns.
As you may or may not know I like to dress to impress. What that means to me is not wearing the most expensive designer or the flashiest colors. I simply like to look nice. I like to match and I like to wear clothes that make me feel... well for lack of a better word... pretty. People in Trenton like to wear sweat shorts and T-shirts 3 sizes to large. I have no problem with this. I say people should wear whatever makes them feel comfortable. I personally am more comfortable when I feel like I look good. So I go to the market (yes, that is actually what we call it here) wearing what for me is a very normal outfit. Cyan with black stripes V-neck T, white-washed faded jeans with a few holes in just the right places, blue and black checkered slip on shoes, and a brown/blue plaid fedora. Some may consider this over the top, but I consider this normal attire. The faces that stared and jeered at me as I walked into that store seriously made me fear for my life. I was seriously afraid someone was going to jump me and beat me with a baseball bat. Now to be fair I am a tad paranoid of such things having heard stories in the news, but still. So I've decided it might be safer if I only wear my fedoras if I'm planning a trip to Memphis or Jackson. Here the extent of my dress will be jeans and a pull-over. Unless it is Sunday in which case I could wear a shirt and tie and no one would think anything at all odd about that.
Which brings me to my next story. Apparently here everyone doubles as a preacher. OK so maybe not everyone does, but our plummer does. When he first arrived he asked me if I was Jason and I of course said no I'm Chris. This caused him to ask who Jason was and I told him he is my partner the teacher who is at work currently. I thought nothing of it and moved on. Seemed like a perfectly normal conversation to me. I moved on to the back yard so I could stay out of their way. A little later he comes to the back yard to tell me all was fixed and then asks if I minded if he asked a personal question. I thought what the heck I knew it was coming sooner or later. We are after all only one of Trenton's two gay couples. (The other couple owns the feed store down the street. Or so it is rumored. I haven't actually met them.) So he proceeds to tell me he was impressed by my candor in admitting that Jason was my partner and then begins to ask very predictable questions; how long have I been with men, how long have I known, do we have a church, what can you tell me about Jesus... etc. So I did the only thing that made sense. I answered his questions truthfully and to the best of my ability and then began quoting scripture. Such as where Paul says to work out your own soul salvation with fear and trembling, thus saying to worry about yourself and leave others to do the same without meddling. And then my all time favorite judge not lest ye be judged. Which pretty much says the same thing. I would have went farther, but since he was clearly shocked by my quoting scripture at him I decided to stop. Poor thing. He was all ready to be the first to witness to the new gay couple, but instead got a little sermon of his own. I believe it took him off guard.
And my last and final qualm with Small Town USA is the stress of finding a job. I won't say much on this subject as there isn't much to say. Frankly I don't even begin to understand it. If I were still in Knoxville I would have had at least four or five job offers by now. Here I have applied for everything I'm even remotely qualified for and not even a single call. I have what I believe to be a pretty impressive resume. I should think it would have warranted at least one call from the dozens of places I've applied. Apparently I am mistaken once again. I don't know what these small town places are looking for, but it clearly is not me.
So having said all of that I ask you... How do I begin to understand Small Town USA? Cause right now I'm at a total loss. Until I do, however, I've decided to dive into my crocheting. I've tried selling my works before and I doubt now will be any different, but at least it is something to do. So stay tuned to my store www.etsy.com/princeyuri for my creations born of boredom.
So with the question of "where am I?" Ladies, Gentlemen, and those in-between I bid you all... BUBBLES!!!
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