Hanging onto Seasons

I live in Florida where there are two (sometimes three) seasons, and neither (none) can be considered Fall*. So what is the significance of the first day of Fall here? The leaves haven't started to turn, the air isn't growing brisk, the pumpkins aren't about to appear in the ground, there are no apples to pick, and NO ONE wants to ride around in hay in 90 degree weather. No, the significance lies entirely in the big-fucking-deal that the news was making about it last night. "How the FIRST DAY OF FALL will affect your temperatures tonight at 10!"

 

Fuck you, weather man. You know how my temperatures are going to be affected? We'll be lucky if it drops in to the low 80s. That's how. Stop making a big deal about it local news stations. No one cares about the first day of fall around here. Except the Pagan club at my church who are celebrating the Autumnal Equinox, but of course that is there choice, but it's probably going to be hot that day so I'm not sure I want to hang around outside welcoming AUTUMN. I think I hit the Maybe button on that one. Of course I want to go, but I don't know if I can make it…

 

*Ahem* My fiancé and I are getting married in the Autumn next year. I've chosen my bridesmaids dresses already and I want to put the maid of honor in a reverse color. "But, but, but" one of my bridesmaids sputters. She is joined by a friend of ours who was tagging along "but, but, but."

 

But WHAT?

 

The color isn't a FALL color.

 

You mean to tell me that my Maid of Honor is going to clash with the changing leaves? No, that can't be it, because the leaves in Florida don't turn.

Will she clash with the pumpkins growing in the ground? Do pumpkins grow in 80 degree temperatures?

The only thing standing between me and my chosen color is the IDEA of Fall. That's it!

 

On top of that we're getting married in an AQUARIUM. I know, right? So cool. Anyway, my point is that we'll be inside the WHOLE time! And my only concern needs to be, will the dresses look okay next to the fish tanks?

 

As a former Northerner, I too had trouble letting Fall go, but after years of disappointment around this time of year. The temperatures don't change much and the trees are perpetually green. I've let go of my favorite season and so should every other person who's thought it was a good idea to move down to Florida; including the local news stations. The pagans can keep it.

*Our seasons are Hurricane and Sunshine. Seriously, they call it "Hurricane Season."

A New Direction

So, I had originally hoped that this blog would be a serious window into my serious opinions about serious topics, but it turns out that I'm not nearly serious enough to pull that off. So I've decided to make an attempt at light-hearted and funny. Because those are things I consider myself to be. I suppose in time we'll find out if I am. Here we go…

I noticed just today that I am extremely neurotic about facebook events. If this is your first jaunt on the internet in 5 years and you're still using Myspace exclusively and you just happened to stumble upon my tiny little blog by accident, facebook is like Myspace on crack, sprinkled with jimmies and deep-fried in awesome. So when someone on facebook decides to throw a party or advertise an event or just wants your attention reeeeeaaaally badly, well, they create a facebook event. You know why? Because you can't ignore it. If you don't RSVP in some form or other it will taunt you every time you go on facebook. And if you don't RSVP the person who sent you the invite will know, because you're little picture will show up under "No response." But lucky for you, there's a little box where you can type some lame excuse for why you're not attending the event. If you don't make an excuse, you'll look like a bitch, so you'd better make one up. But wait, try and make it a good one, like "I've got syph" or "I'm having my leg removed that day" because every. single. person invited to that party will see your excuse on "the wall." That's right, the event has its own wall. So if anyone bothers to look at the details to this event then they will also see your pathetic attempt at an excuse.

This is a conundrum for me particularly, because I'm not a social creature. I'm not a person who likes to jump up and do every single thing that is suggested to me. It also sometimes depends on how I feel on a given day. As a fairly chronic hypochondriac I often believe I have illnesses that are deadly. As with most hypochondriacs who have the internets I can substantiate my delusions with WebMD. So if I wake up with a belly ache on the day of an event that I responded "yes" to, well, I can't possibly attend a Solstice Gathering while I have stomach cancer, can I?

So here's how I get around this. Understand that I'm giving away my secrets here and that I will never be able to do this without feeling like a douchebag again. You should feel extremely lucky to learn this mystical secret. Here it is. I'm doing this now. For real, I'll do it right now. Okay, no more stalling.

There's a maybe button.


That's right. There's a MAYBE button. The get out of jail free card. The Holy Hand Grenade. The Golden Ticket. The MAYBE BUTTON. If you hit the maybe button there's no excuse necessary. If it's someone you know well and like and don't want to lose as a friend, make an excuse. But if someone you knew from high school is throwing an anniversary party for their dogs, then hit the MAYBE button! Go crazy! Maybe it up! Have a maybe party and invite all your friends on facebook so they can hit maybe too!

The point is, if you're like me and you can't stand to see little numbers and red boxes all over your facebook newsfeed then the maybe button is your best friend. I know it's mine.

My Miserable Life

Forty-two years ago the United States Supreme Court had a case at bar for which I am extremely grateful, Virginia v. Loving. In 1958 a white man and a black woman went to Washington D.C. to get married. The Lovings returned to Virginia afterwards and were arrested for violating the "Racial Integrity Act." The police invaded their home and caught them sharing a bed together. This sounds atrocious to us, but back in Virginia in 1967 the State Government actually thought they were furthering a legitimate interest. The interest of preserving the white race. Thankfully, especially for me, the Supreme Court struck this down as unconstitutional.

Five years later, my Filipino father met my white mother at a wedding party in Washington D.C. and a short time later they were married.

This may not be news but very recently a Louisiana Judge has refused to marry a white woman and a black man. He's not a racist though! No, no, no, he marries black people all the time! Equal, but separate, amirite? His extra super awesome excuse? The children will suffer later.

I'm sorry, what?

Let it soak in, rinse it around in your mouth a bit. Now spit it out.

"'I don't do interracial marriages because I don't want to put children in a situation they didn't bring on themselves,' Bardwell told the Hammond Daily Star. 'In my heart, I feel the children will later suffer.'"

Okay, okay, it's true. No child brings situations on themselves.

Wait. Did he just call an interracial marriage a situation? Yeah, that's what I heard.

Judge Bardwell thinks that I'm suffering. Obviously as the product of an interracial marriage, my brother and I must have led awful, miserable lives full of suffering!

No. Not to my recollection. I can collect a dozen reasons why I don't get along with my father, but who can't name a few issues with their parents regardless of their race?

You want to know the absolute worst part of growing up bi-racial? My last name is unpronouncable. I have to coach people for months on the proper pronunciation. I've had people GIVE UP and call me by a stupid nickname. Boo hoo. I have a hard to pronounce last name. Poor me.

That last name keeps me fresh in the mind of every teacher at my law school. I have a half a dozen recs at my fingertips because no professor is going to forget that last name. Score.

What else, what else, let me think...

Oh, I know! I have this skin that tans at the drop of a hat! From my front door to my car, if the sun is out, I'll get a tan! That's just...um...yeah, that's kind of awesome, isn't it?

I can swear in two languages, I can understand accents like its nobody's business thanks to growing up with a very thick accent in my ear. I have great hair. I have my mom's height and my dad's coloring. I'm an amalgam of the best features on both sides. As per tradition my middle name is my mother's maiden name and that comes in handy, too, sometimes.

Let's think about these hypothetical bi-racial children of the Louisiana couple. Half Asian, half white is, admittedly, different than being the child of a black/white relationship. But you know what? Children have coping mechanisms. I used to get curious looks from people when I was with my white grandparents during summer breaks. But you know what? Who cared? I was with my grandparents who love me and it didn't matter what anyone thought about how we looked. I was never going to see them again. I was never going to talk to them. As long as I had my Grandad everything was great.

Frankly, every child experiences hardships in one form or another and frankly those experiences shape our lives and frame our futures. And who is this random judge to decide that someone shouldn't procreate? Frankly, Judge Oldtimey, the couple can procreate with or without your stupid marriage license, so get off your high horse and stop thinking that you're saving future children from some imagined "suffering."

You big jerk.