“Get Rid Of Your Americanisms”…

marc-hackI am a firm believer that no matter where we’re from, it is always a part of who we are. The place where we grow up and spend our formative years is instilled in us, no matter how far away we may move.

As a Native New Yorker, you will never, ever hear me say I am from anywhere else on this planet. “Concrete jungle where dreams are made of…”

I’ve lived in other places over the years and to this day people still stay “You’re not from around here, are you?” I will never get rid of my subtle accent, and I refuse to allow anyone to make me feel self-conscious about it. I didn’t grow up easy, but I’m proud of where I’m from.

A friend of mine, after several years of “marriage” (I have a hard time calling it that), is immigrating to the United Kingdom. Her husband told her she had to “get rid of her Americanisms” because she will be “British”. I was utterly appalled reading her Facebook post, as if this was something cute. “Yes hubby bunny, I’ll get right on that.” I had a thought that went with that bit of submissive nausea, and I totally blame Jodi Ambrose for it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 😛 (I’m kidding, slightly. It just goes to show you our minds are both in the gutter, and thank GOD for that! Make sure you read Jodi’s awesome Eulogy post. It is a work of art.)

I was quick to inform her that citizenship, which will take 2-3 years, as she will be there temporarily on a spouse visa, will not make her British-born. She will never stop being a native of the country she was born in. That’s like me dying my hair blonde, moving to Finland, and claiming to be a native. No one would EVER believe me, so why pretend? Why would anyone ask you to change how you speak and how you think in order to make you something you’re never going to be, except on paper? It blows my mind.

She’s not American, but she was raised to speak American English and taught to aim for a better life. I told her she’s being brainwashed, and she is, because she’s willing to let someone a good 20 years older than her tell her how to think, write, spell, what to wear, eat, etc. Five years ago, she may have been single, but she knew how to think for herself. Now she has a “husband” with all of her passwords (If you’re one of “those types”, I strongly question your I.Q.) who is very quick to jump down anyone’s throat for reminding her that she has a mind of her own. I suspect there’s a reason he’s so controlling; and I don’t find anything cute or attractive about it. It’s worrisome, to say the least. Have we been over the fact that if you use the word “hubby” in my presence, I might lose my lunch? He’s British, shouldn’t she just refer to him as her “old man”? It’s what he is, let’s be technical.

Every friend I have that isn’t American born, but has dual-citizenship in this country, is the first to say “I’m Italian.” or “I’m Swedish.” They are proud of where they’re from, they’re proud of their U.S. citizenship, but that doesn’t stop them from also being themselves as people. They haven’t stopped saying “In my country…” no matter how long they’ve lived here. I find nothing wrong with that and I’d NEVER correct them or tell them to “adapt” or to change their method of thinking or their speech patterns. They are who they are, and I respect that. They can lapse into any language they want to speak in front of me, I do not find it offensive, its merely force of habit. They do it in front of husbands, wives, children, etc. It is what it is. But when someone is controlling you, it’s a whole other ballgame and it’s NOT okay. There’s a reason men don’t talk to me like that; it’s because they value their natural teeth and the family jewels.

Maybe submissive women is a thing I’m unaware of. I was not raised to be a passive, submissive, unquestioning, brainless, giggling little fool. If being a wallflower spouse/partner does it for you, well good for you, but it repulses me. Even when a man is super quiet and lets someone run roughshod over him, it’s repulsive to me. When people make their relationship your business by publicly discussing their life via social media, they should expect people to chime in. Her husband attacked me once for being honest with her and I told her if he ever did it again, he’d be sorry for it because her friendships aren’t his business. I’ve been friends with her for over 20 years. I’m not going to blow smoke up her ass. Good friends tell you the truth.

He got her a puppy about ten months ago and she is leaving three animals behind in another country to be taken care of “by family”, with no intent to bring them to England whatsoever. That too, is absolutely disgusting and heartless to me. I suggested re-homing all of them so that they could have good lives and her response was “This will be our vacation home, we’ll be back here when we retire, so we’ll see them when we come back.” I have NO IDEA what dream world she’s living in, but in my world, you don’t leave animals behind. That is cruel and evil. She has no guarantees whatsoever that her “family” is going to take care of her home and animals. I do not want to hear how that ends, but I’m sure I will.

When you truly love someone, you don’t tell them they need to change, unless it’s for health reasons via doctor’s orders. When you truly have someone’s best interests at heart, you realize that they’re uprooting their entire life to live in a foreign country for you and that it’s an immense sacrifice. They’re not “visiting”, though I already know the outcome of this story.

I am not good with “yes people”. It physically makes me ill when women behave like that in relationships, especially when they genuinely mean it. It’s not like the sarcasm of “Yes, dear.” that many American women use. Most of us say it, but we don’t actually mean that we’re going to wash, fold, and iron your underwear for you. If you do wash, fold, and iron someone’s underwear, I hope he’s paying you incredibly well, or he’s your son and you want him to look his best. Whatever floats your boat. <rolls eyes>

Wherever you are from, BE YOU. Don’t ever let anyone, not even a spouse, tell you there’s something wrong with that. My best friends are almost all overseas, and I love them like sisters. I would never tell any of them they have to change their speech, thoughts, views, etc., to be anything more than who they are as people. One of my best friends does hope to achieve American citizenship at some point in the future, which I will support, encourage, and assist with in terms of helping her study American history so she can pass her tests (She’ll probably learn way more than I ever did, or more than I can remember.). I want her to achieve that dream and be able to live out her days with an American passport if that’s what she desires. Why not? In my mind, if a friend has a dream, you help them to the best of your ability if they’re unsure if it is attainable or not. You support and encourage. Moreover, as a life partner, I cannot ever imagine turning to a man and saying “Could you not be Welsh, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Swedish…”, etc. and don’t speak the language in front of me “because you’re AMERICAN NOW!” Not only is that rude beyond words, but it’s disrespectful.

If you’ve been with a person for a while and marry them or live with them, then you pretty much know what you’re getting into. Yes, they’re going to have odd little quirks that will drive you crazy, but if someone is going to be a psycho control-freak, you might want to re-think how you’re treated and have a major discussion about respect and boundaries because being told you’re not good enough unless you do A,B, C, D, and E is utterly unacceptable.

When I hear crap like this and a woman accepts it like that’s what you do in a marriage, either to avoid conflict or to be a submissive dumbass, it 100% makes me want to say “FUCK NO!” the next time someone asks me to marry them.

No matter where I go in life, no matter where I live, no matter who I’m in a relationship with, I intend to continue being a badass bitch. Take it or leave it, gents.

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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What If You Could Pick…

“What if you could pick one day of your life, and everything would stop changing, every day would be similar and comparable to that one day, you’d always have the same people with you? If you could do that, would you do it? Would you pick that day and make that choice? We crave for things to stop changing, we wish that things would never change. But if we got what we wanted, there are so many things that are better, that we would never, ever know about. Sure, things would stay the same as that one wonderful day, but then there would be nothing else out there, ever. So can you remember the very first day when everything really did begin to change? Is there a thing that can remind you? Mine is a blue rose, and that’s when everything began to change because that’s the day I began to believe in things I never believed in before; the day I found three blue roses. Think about your first day of change, can you remember all the new heights you’ve soared since that day? All the new people? All the better things and times? Would you throw all of that time away? I wouldn’t. Instead, I want to finally accept all the things that I couldn’t change, which led to me being right here, right now. Maybe we all carry around inside us one day we wish we could keep forever, something we wished never did change. It’s time to let go of that day, and soar.”
―C. JoyBell C.

As We Grow…

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This is such an incredible message to share. I hope it means as much to everyone else as it does to me.

I do not know when I’ll be able to write a new post, unfortunately, but I will do my best. I fractured a couple of bones in my right hand and due to that injury, discovered exactly how hard I type and how much I use the first three fingers on this hand, which is where the injury is centered. It hurts ten times more today than it did Sunday night when it first happened, and the pain travels into my wrist, which makes it worse. I will be fine, so long as I don’t overtax it too much. I can’t really adhere to “resting it” or “keeping it wrapped” because I have to work, among other things, but as I said, I will do my best and be back to all of you ASAP.

Why Are Birthdays So Rough On Some Of Us & Happy-Go-Lucky For Others?

Why Are Birthdays So Rough On Some Of Us & Happy-Go-Lucky For Others?

I’ve never understood this, and maybe I never will. My birthday blues have hit me early this year, and they’ve hit hard. I’m days ahead of the actual day, and all I can think is “What’s the point? I might as well just stay in bed all weekend.” It’s a terrible attitude to have when a month or so ago, I was excitedly anticipating SOMETHING. ANYTHING. Lets face it, birthdays aren’t always happy.

I can’t remember the last time a birthday was truly joyous for me. I know it was under the age of 13, but couldn’t tell you for sure the who, what, when, or why of it all. I’m probably blocking it out for some reason (Most of my childhood should be blocked out for reasons I have yet to discuss here.). Generally, I remember everything on the long-term spectrum, I can tell you things about coming home from the hospital as a newborn (Crazy, right?), but as often as I’ve tried looking back on birthday stuff, I am a complete blank at the moment.

Was 18 a great one? No. It was the last one celebrated with my Grandmother before cancer fully took over, eventually taking her life a few years later. 21 was celebrated multiple times, because everyone was trying to top each other on the celebration and the gifts, but apart from coming out of the actual day with a new piercing, the day itself was nothing to write home about. Unless you’ve actually lived 21 years and have never touched a single drop of alcohol, it’s a ridiculous birthday to make such a big deal out of. I’ve never been a big drinker. I was given whiskey somewhere around age two by my Great-Uncle. Apparently that was much more satisfying to me as a toddler than my 21st birthday was because not only did I drink it, but with my discerning palette, I smiled and asked “More.” I was given more, until three appalled Jewish women lectured him on “giving whiskey to the baby”. It was cute and utterly hilarious while it was happening, and it’s still a funny story when properly told. The only time I drink it now is when I have strep throat, or a really horrific sore throat, and need to get rid of it fast. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve needed it for either, but I can tell you that it works. I have no idea why it speeds up the healing process, it just does. On occasion, I will have a drink or two. Hell, I might even have four, but it’s nothing to celebrate. I might just be pissed off on a Tuesday.

There are plenty of birthdays where it’s nice to spend time with friends and family, share a meal, and end the day with a cupcake. For the past six years or so, cupcakes have sort of become my staple. There is ONE company that makes the absolute best Triple Chocolate and Lemon Ice cupcakes. If you’re nice, I’ll even tell you who makes them and where to look for them. They’re amazing, everything else falls short, including the fanciest ones from a bakery. They come out about this time every year and you can find them until maybe March, after that, you don’t see them again until early Fall. There’s a flavor for everyone, but I’m addicted to the Lemon. I am going to look for both before “the big day”, in case I’m really blue and need sugar to help cope with my misery. 😦

I’m not an envious person, but even on the birthdays where I’ve intentionally gone away in order to be able to enjoy it, I’ve ended up waking up the morning of my birthday, growling in any direction, and going back to sleep. Or I end up sick and I never get to celebrate at all, which sucks.

In 2011, this happened while I was on vacation. I did end up going out with a family member later that day, in seriously cold New England weather with intermittent rain. I was an absolute unpleasant bitch, and it makes me cringe knowing how I behaved. After nearly a week of hitting up so many different places and great restaurants, we ended up someplace I would not have chosen off the top of my head, but had an amazingly delicious meal and great service. When we got home, there was Chocolate Raspberry Truffle cheesecake and Coconut Cream Pie cheesecake waiting. Too sweet to eat more than a few spoonfuls in one shot, but 100% worth it.

In 2012, I got sick and spent my birthday in bed. The next day, despite still being sick, I pushed myself out to celebrate. Two hours later, I was in a gun shop in the middle of nowhere. I’d been told it was a 20 minute trip, so by the time we reached the destination, I was pissed and in desperate need of stretching my legs. The shop owner told me to “just stand there and look pretty”. He’s lucky he was behind a counter, or he’d be missing a favorite body part to this day. Afterwards, I did end up having a great birthday meal and then spent some time at the mother-ship (Sephora). If ever you just want to get on my good side, throw Sephora gift cards or nail polish at me. No, I’m not kidding.

Last year, I forced myself to attempt a celebration. After a manicure and an errand, I was completely done for the day. I was exhausted, fine to be home early to enjoy seriously awesome Italian food as my reward for being born. Like most years, it came, it saw, it fizzled out before 8 PM.

Why is it so much easier for some people to go out, celebrate, and be thrilled on their birthdays? It can’t possibly be about material things or the people they’re sharing it with, can it? Is it all about gifts, alcohol, food you may, or may not, really want to be eating, and people you may, or may not, even like? Is it quantity over quality? Is it extroverts over introverts? If you know the answer to this, please step forward and spit it out!

My discussion this morning went something like this: “Mexican sounds SO good to me right now, do you want to go to…?” It’s a tiny little place, but the food is authentic and if you get there at the right time, the service is good too. “I’d rather stay local.” Mind you, the place I’m talking about is less than 10 minutes away, 15 if you hit traffic. “How about…?” Blank stare. And then I had a moment where all I could think was “It’s MY fucking birthday, douche bag! We’ll go where I say we’re going, and you’ll fucking deal with it.” Another suggestion was presented, probably because the look on my face showed that at any given moment, someone might need to sleep with both eyes open. Sadly, I’m just not feeling it.

Is it wrong for you to want certain days to have a special feel to them? I’m not saying you need a fortune spent on you, or that you need to spend a fortune, but on a special day, it shouldn’t just be “the same old shit”.

In the end, I’m leaving it all up to Fate. What’s meant to be, will be. If I wake up and I don’t feel it, then that’s okay. I’m sure someone will be more than happy to deliver.

copyright © 2014 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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