I am Pro-Women.

I am a firm believer that if you don’t have a vagina you are not in any sort of position to be regulating one.  According to the Guttmacher Institute, in 2011, states enacted 135 new reproductive healthcare laws. Personhood amendments, transvaginal ultrasounds, and attacks on contraception make 2012 sound more like 1912.

In 2012, 42 states and the District of Columbia enacted 122 provisions related to reproductive health and rights. One-third of these new provisions, 43 in 19 states, sought to restrict access to abortion services. Although this is a sharp decrease from the record-breaking 92 abortion restrictions enacted in 2011, it is the second highest annual number of new abortion restrictions.

Last year in six states, lawmakers brought men’s health to the forefront of the debate. All women and all Democrats, these people brought forward their ideas, my favorites being Georgia’s House Bill 1116 that would prevent men from having vasectomies, as well as the legislation pushed by  Ohio State Senator Nina Turner that would require men seeking drugs like Viagra to first get a cardiac stress test to ensure their heart is ready for sexual activity. Oh, and they would also have to obtain certification from one of their recent sexual partners that they are indeed experiencing problems with erectile dysfunction. And they would be required to see a sex therapist before getting a prescription. The bill stated “The physician shall ensure that the sessions include information on nonpharmaceutical treatments for erectile dysfunction, including sexual counseling and resources for patients to pursue celibacy as a viable lifestyle choice.”

Turner says society has been programmed to accept the idea that legislators can regulate a woman’s ability to obtain contraception or get a safe abortion. “We don’t see anything wrong with it because that’s the way we’ve been socialized,” But now that the tables are turning and the focus is on men’s reproductive health, people think it’s strange. Because it seems absurd to regulate men.

Whether or not a woman is choosing to have an abortion, she deserves to make that decision herself.

People keep deciding the outcome of things that they have no right to be deciding, and it is unjust, and it is immoral. Women are not animals to be regulated. We are not the playthings of others. Our choices are ours to make, not yours. And unless you are capable of having an abortion yourself, back off. This isn’t your battle to fight, and thinking otherwise just makes you pretentious.

If men were under the same scrutiny as women, things would be a lot different. And who knows, there may come a time when this isn’t a battle. Until then, I will always be PRO Women.

PRO “you do what you want with your life and body and I’ll respect your decision no matter what you choose because it isn’t any of my goddamn business.”

 

 

 

Somebody has to

 

Somebody has to go polish the stars,

They’re looking a little bit dull.

Somebody has to go polish the stars,

For the eagles and starlings and gulls

Have all been complaining they’re tarnished and worn,

They say they want new ones we cannot afford.

So please get your rags

And your polishing jars,

Somebody has to go polish the stars.

~Shel Silverstein

 

 

This really speaks to me today.

I’m feeling a bit frustrated with the universe.

And myself.

Mostly just myself.

Some days are really really good.

There are bad days. There are really bad days.

And then there are days like today.

I feel like I could use some fixing up.

A new coat of awesome, a couple more sprinkles of intelligence, maybe a hint of humor.

And a large dash of “I know what i’m doing.”

I’m so very lost today. Please help.

 

 

This is my angry, heartbroken blog post.

An open letter to heartbreak.

To whom it may concern,

Teenage girl hearts are not playthings. They are not silly, or simple, they do not lie. Hearts never lie. They do not forget, they sometimes forgive, and they do regret. They wish for the best, they think they can’t do better, and, when they give you everything, it is not to be taken lightly. They trust, they adore, they soar. They flutter around cute cheesy things, they crack with every Adele song. And they demand not to be lied to.

Teenage girl hearts are strong, for they do not yet know the power of heartbreak. They love unconditionally, and it isn’t the way a child loves. It is wonderful, scary, beautiful love. It is the kind that they fight for.To parents, to friends. 

Teenage girl hearts are easily bruised. They are fragile. They hold your heart in such high esteem, it is hard to do wrong. They are your best friend, your biggest proponent, your softest touch. They are new, fresh, they are young, and so old.

But they can be broken. And lied to. And tossed aside for another.  

They can wonder. They can wish and beg and pray and dream. And they can hope.

Hope is a heart’s worst enemy and kindest friend. Hope for change, for a phone call or even a simple text. For an “I was wrong,” or even better, “I’m sorry.” Hope that in a few days you’ll change your mind. Then a few weeks, a month, a year later. Hope that they left enough of an impression, that they were not wrong for loving you.

That someone else will leave you thinking the same thing.

That someone else will have you crying at night, wondering what they did wrong.

That you’ll understand one day the repercussions of being careless.

That you wont lie with your eyes, or say words you don’t mean. 

That you will miss this heart one day, the freshness of new love. 

That you will understand.

That one day they forgive their trust, at least enough to let someone else in.

That they will flutter again, soar, with the knowledge that things are ok. We’re ok.

That someone will come in, slowly break down these walls, make us laugh.

That one day when we hear these songs we wont break a little, but know there is good coming. And we will sing along. Loudly.

We don’t ask for the world, for your world. Just for enough grace to handle things like a lady. We ask for our hands to be held, for cute texts in the morning, and goodnights at night.

And we ask that we be treated with respect. 

 

 

 

Aside

Things worth saying

I’ve been told that the perfect man,
“Is one who listens.”

Then would that make the perfect woman,

“One with something more to say worth listening to?”

– Justin Foyils, my bistro friend.

I want to be one of those people – the ones that can move a crowd in a matter of sentences. The ones for whom the world stops turning just to listen, even if for a moment. I don’t want the fame, I don’t want press conferences or memoirs or anything like that.

I just want something to say.The thought that can rally movements, change futures. Something profound and unique and worldly, something that would be quoted for its truth and honesty so often that my name would be lost. But that would be ok, because I don’t want the recognition or the praise -I just want something to say.

I’m guessing one has to live for a while, experience things, soul search. If that is what it takes, ok, I’ll do it.

I don’t have a specific movement in mind, and most of the profound things I come up with have been said before. But that doesn’t matter.

Maybe I’m batman – only there when the world needs him. (I sure as hell don’t want to be the Amanda Bynes of the world.)

I just want to have something worth listening to. The average seventeen -almost eighteen thank you- year old doesn’t have much wisdom to offer. Just things like “Don’t sneak boys into the house” and ” Dude that new xbox is going to be cray cray.” I’m hoping I’m a little different.

Maybe I’ll have some big inspirational moment. Maybe not.

That being said, this is what I’ve come up with:

– When people show you who they are, believe them. (or, don’t fall for the same guy twice knowing the end of the story months in advance.)

– Homework may not pay for all of your college experience, but it will sure help. (I’m selling my first and second born children in advance to pay for a double major and law school.)

– Don’t be afraid to speak your mind to a bunch of adults because you’re young. The smart ones know that you may have insight that they haven’t thought of. (Thanks Mr. Kaufman.)

– Meatloaf is never an acceptable dinner item. Ever.

– Listen – what you hear might surprise you.

 

I’m working on not passing up experiences that I will regret not having later.

All the adventurous women do.

 

Things that irk me.

Well, let me start off by saying I dislike math homework.

Now, I am an opinionated girl. My brain is full of things that I feel the need to discuss. Today kids, this discussion is on gay marriage. Who died and gave you the right to prevent two people who love eachother from getting married? Let’s be real here. Who? As a Christian myself, I find it awfully hypocritical of you (ESPECIALLY the WBC) to claim to be doing God’s will, when you won’t follow any of his OTHER commands. You like shrimp? Sin. Oh, your clothing is made of two different fabrics? What about tattoos? Yeah, I’m talking to you with the tweety bird on your ankle. And let’s not forget about the females who didn’t live outside while on their periods. To hell with ALL of you.

Just kidding. I don’t really believe in hell. No, what REALLY irks me is the jump people make from two men getting married to bestiality. Would you marry a goat? No. Can goats say “I do”? No. And better yet, they can’t sign marriage liscenses. So there.

Seriously. All day I’ve heard people make that argument. If my baby sis wanted to marry a girl would you really stop her? She has just as much of a right to happiness as any of you fools. And believe me, if you try to stop her, or anyone I know from loving who they love, I will fight with every ounce if my will. With every bit of power I have I will fight for what is right.

We look back at the arguments made for women’s equality, for civil rights. We all just want to be happy. Why is it ok for us to vote on someone else’s happiness? Why is this even an issue?

I don’t get it. I don’t understand. The second someone brings up marriage equality, someone else says their rights as a Christian are being infringed upon. Don’t like abortion? Don’t have one. Don’t like Gay Marriage? Don’t have one. Saying gay marriage is against your religion is like saying you’re on a diet and everyone should lay off the donuts because it offends you.


Stop.


Stop with the hate.


Stops with the violence.

I stand by one of the most truthful phrases ever: make love, not war.


Stop the unkind words, stop the name calling. Start appreciating eachother for the vast diversity within us.

What would happen if we decided blonde hair was agains a mainstream religion? Do we force blondes to hide their natural state? Do we dye their hair by force?


See how silly that sounds? Yeah. Me too.


So go find a little time to research. Look at how many families are being screwed over because they don’t have the ability to love who they please, freely.

Denying someone the rights you already have is immoral and to say anything otherwise is ignorant. If you believe in a right, of any sort, it has to be world wide. Every single person on the planet is entitled to that same thing as you. Remember that.

Hello again, to the three you that read this. I have a question for you. Are firefighters, those in military service, and police officers heroes? I’m going to say no, and before you come at me with pitchforks and torches, listen to my reasoning.

I am a firm believer that if something is in your power, you have the duty to fix it. If you see a baby fall through the fencing around a second story balcony, and you have legs, it is your DUTY to get your ass over there to the baby. If there are starving people in your city and you can afford to feed them, and you just watch children wither away day after day, you are an awful person. But if you feed them, that doesn’t make you a hero. Because you had the ability to fix a need, and you did so. Saying you’re a hero is like saying I did my math homework. Ridiculous. I didn’t do my homework because I was in the right place at the right time, no. I did my homework because it is my duty. And I want to graduate.

Hero: Someone who gets other people killed – Serenity.

Whether or not this makes me an enemy of the state, I don’t belive in heroes. I just don’t. Now, I believe in good people doing good work. I believe people are mostly good, that society may corrupt them, but for the most part, humanity doesn’t consist of heartless, awful people. I also don’t believe in original sin. I don’t get it. Partially because everything is blamed on a single woman, and partially because HAVE YOU SEEN BABIES? They are cute. They have little toes. And they can’t even wipe the slobber off of their chubby necks by themselves, so how can they be the root of all evil? Babies come out of a body knowing nothing, unable to fend for themselves. Brand new babies can’t be sinful. They just can’t. Jesus sasys children are allowed into heaven by default, because they are innocent. So how does this original sin stuff work? Oh wait…

This is why I hate getting a “who is your hero” prompt on an essay. What if I don’t have one?

sweet dreams are made of these

I’ve been having really messed up dreams lately. I don’t know why, but my subconscious is either telling me to watch out for people with Molotov Cocktails and people robbing GoodWill, or I need to do some soul searching. That, or I need to watch the icecream eating before bed.

I think stress makes my dreams wack. I guess that makes sense, I’m too busy freaking out when I’m awake I push down the real freaking out so I don’t have to deal with it till the stress goes away. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I would write a blog about such a trivial matter like teenage girl’s dreams. I don’t have an answer.

Now on to something unrelated. Moving out. That’s right. I’m heading out. Not for another 3 months, but I swear, the weekend after I graduate, i’m out of here. I’m moving in with my best friend and it is going to be glorious. See, she understands my need to get out better than almost anyone, that other anyone being my dad who totally gets what i’m dealing with. I’m excited. No scolding. No more you can do betters. Well. Mayne sometimes.

It is going to be totally of our making. The room colors, the furniture. We get to decide how things will be, when to go to bed, what to make for dinner. I’m excited to paint the house. My room, in case you were wondering, is going to be grey/purple and blue. And black.

It is going to be hard, and expensive. Messy at times. Possibly scary. But it will be ours. And I can’t wait.

Holy Matrimony via the Internet

A little while ago I broke down. I gave in. I did what I said I would never do. I got sucked into pinterest. I know, I know. There are no excuses. But I can’t help it! I swear!

Basically, I have found something that wastes more time than Battle Star Galactica. And I watched all all four seasons in what feels like two weeks.

Anywho, back to pinterest. There are a bunch of categories to choose from when debating what to spend hours on. Usually, I scroll through the geek tab or the tattoo tab, but lately I’ve had a new addiction-the wedding tab.

*gasp* Ashlyn looking at wedding stuff? Yes I’m 17. No, I don’t want to get married right now. But eventually? Yeah. I do. This is why pinterest is a problem. I could spend hours daydreaming about that day. It’s the thought of
planning the whole ordeal. I’m a planner. Or, possibly just a schemer. I like thinking. So when I’m sitting here, scrolling through dresses and gifts and photographs, I’m planning. I’m thinking of all the different combinations.

The stereotype that girls spend their childhoods thinking about their wedding day is false. Some play with trucks. Others read harry potter religiously. I sort of missed the memo and am just now catching on.

I want the dress. A gorgeous, wonderful dress. No veil-they’re dumb. And flats because I’m clumsy and you won’t see them anyways. A cool yet cliche wedding band, one that you would see in movies like time traveler’s wife. But it isn’t the dresses, the great food or the decorations that I get excited about. No. It’s the party afterwards. My family is Italian. They like their wine and they know how to party. We rent a hall and dance the night away. The women spend all day cooking (unless someone is catering) and they make enough to feed about a million and two people. After the ceremony we dance and dance and dance. That is the best part. We come together to celebrate and we do it right.

I want to look back at that night and remember the dancing. Being surrounded by people I love, being goofy.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do care about the dress and the crappy decorations-i’ll keep dreaming. But in the long run, I’ll be running through potential playlists.