Dear “Dedicated Thin”-

Fist off, thank you for stopping by and reading my post. (I use post vs. blog because your comment leads me to believe that the probability is high that you haven’t ready anything else I have written.) The fact that you took the time to not only do so, but leave me feedback as well is appreciated. Seriously.

Secondly, in re: to “what a piece of complete shit”, it is good to know that I’ve done something right in your eyes. You see, I pride myself on not doing things half-assed, so accomplishing a complete shit versus a partial or incomplete shit is a concept I can more than hang with. So, yay for that!

Now for your big question- “Are you really that much of an egotistical, self-centered asshole?” That is a bit more difficult to answer. I say this because your vagueness doesn’t really give me much to go on. The mere fact that I have a blog where I spew forth random babblings about my life and expect people to read it could indicate yes to egotism and self-centeredness. Then again, one could point that same theory at anyone who has a blog. Further, one could point it toward someone who posts such a comment on someone’s blog whom they don’t know. Goodness knows I would not want to indicate those were my feelings towards them. I am constantly amazed that anyone reads my babblings and frequently thank them for doing so. I put it out there not really expecting anyone to read it at all and am grateful when they do. (I could reference my introductory post regarding my blog and its description, but quite frankly that may come across as snotty and I really don’t feel that is necessary at all.)

Is it the whole topic itself that seems to wreak of egotism and self-centeredness to you? I understand that keeping some tadpoles from being flushed and opening my big mouth when I feel that things are wrong isn’t really saving the world. There are thousands and thousands of people out there that have done and will do great, heroic things to truly save this world. Their stories are FAR more worthy of reading than mine and that fact is one I do not lose sight of. They are also people I strive to be more like on a regular basis. Even if it is just in my own quirky, dorky lil way.

To some extent, I can see why one may question me being egotistical and self-centered based solely on that one post with those points in mind and knowing or reading nothing else about or by me whatsoever. I do honestly apologize if that is the only perception received as such.

Having said that, who does such a thing? Honestly?

Mr./Ms./Miss/Dr. DedicatedThin. You set up an account with LiveJournal, filling in only that you are allegedly from the US and that your birthday is supposedly January the 3rd. That’s it. No entries on it. No following of anyone. No friends. You leave your vague, judgmental comment while hiding safely behind your cloak of anonymity. I trust I won’t offend you by stating that has just a tiny lil whiff of self-righteousness to it. Which brings me to the last word of your question/comment…

Asshole? No, no really I am not. An asshole struts about on a regular basis exuding negativity and unprovoked, rude, inappropriate, unwarranted behavior. It is a skin worn daily and an ugly one at that. So, I say, with great confidence, that I am not an asshole. Can I be a bitch? You betchya.

For instance, I’m willing to bet you may find it just a touch bitchy when I say that before you go on anyone’s blog and start leaving comments such as the one you left me, you may wanna put on your big people’s panties, lay your own self out there for others to see and scrutinize and lob a couple of bricks at your own glass cottage.

Say what you want to say, think what you want to think about me. At least I have the balls to look someone in the eyes. That includes myself in the mirror.

Thanks again for stopping by and have a wonderful day!

Sincerely,
Natali

P.S. You may want to avoid reading part three of my Save The World Syndrome Saga sugar because I’m guessing you’re not going to like that one either and I’m not going to refrain from writing it (or anything else for that matter) due to your comment.

P.P.S. It just occurred to me that another possible reason for your disgruntledness could be that you are an angry PETA supporter that has become offended by my comments regarding them. Well, it that’s the case… fuck you. Yup, I said it.

Displaced paragraph time.

Middle school saw little “activism” action from me. I did end up throwing one bully up against a locker and scaring the ever lovin’ shit outta her for picking on M, the special ed student I was most protective of. Other than that, challenging Mrs. L, our accelerated English teacher who was a total condescending, uppity biotch, on a regular basis was it. Nothing much to report.

Then came High School. My lack of desire to eat meat continued. I went around and around with the principal repeatedly until Mr. W caved and added a salad bar as a healthy, non-meat alternative in the cafeteria.

I rescued a tank full of tadpoles doomed to be flushed. Ok, so the teacher was just scared of me at that point and handed them over. That was a feat in and of itself considering the guy walked, talked and acted like a varsity wrestling coach. Not that an accelerated, college level, Biology teacher can’t be a wrestling coach or vice versa, but com’mon now it was just weird. (side note: him teaching “reproduction” redefined the term “awkward as hell.” ) The tadpole’s poor father was sacrificed in the name of science. Teach decided to just spring a lesson of how to artificially inseminate a frog on us. This started with poor Kermy getting plucked from his lil ole tank, pithed in the head and well I won’t describe the rest to spare my guys that read me. Needless to say, I went OFF. Forced dissection was expected. Springing a frog slaughter on an innocent gal will get you a verbal woopin’ you aren’t soon gonna forget.

The other cause that was important to me was the continued segregation by some. Through a program called “220” here in Milwaukee, city kids could get bussed into the burbs for school. I was close with the three of them that started with the program back when we were in elementary school. Despite knowing these kids for what 8-10 years, well let’s just say “better schools” still have ignorant fucking students. I’ve never been one to label people, especially my friends and certainly not with something ridiculous. They weren’t my “black friends.” They were my friends. Period. Many smaller battles were waged on their behalf. The one that sent me over the edge?

One had a little sis, R, who was a freshman when we were seniors. Her locker was down the band geek/art hall with mine and I loved the hell out of her. (Still do 🙂 ) There was this one girl (I’ll call her IB for Ignorant Bitch) that used to be mean as hell to R for no damn good reason. R just took it each time. I was constantly showing up and threatening IB to back off. One day IB got REALLY stupid and jumped my girl. I came around the corner just as she grabbed her from behind, threw her on the ground and started swinging. R didn’t fight back. At all. I had dropped my bag and hauled ass down that hall. The band director came around the back corner just as I pulled IB off her. Probably a good thing he did in hindsight. He took both of them down the hall toward the office.

Next period I find out R got a three day suspension. IB got two days detention. I shit you not. Yeah… into the principal’s office I STORMED. I suppose I should mention that I’d known Mr. W. since I was in Kindergarten. His son and I were in the same class and I used to tutor his youngest son, who I swear works for like freakin’ NASA now. He sat there listening to me rant not only about this absolute bullshit that just occurred but all the other copious amount of uncalled for shit my friends quietly put up with and shouldn’t have had to. By this point he knew better than to interrupt one of my rants. My happy ass sat in that office until he called R and apologized. Then I made him promise to suspend IB and permanently relocate her locker. Forever. And he did. I just couldn’t be in there for that part.

I then turned around and waged war on the School Board. I insisted they include cultural diversity into the curriculum starting in elementary school. If only I could visually share with you my memory of the looks on their faces when they attempted to use the celebration of Black History Month as a defense. I do feel a tiny bit bad for making the Secretary cry. Just a tiny lil bit though.

It’s safe to say MANY were happy as all get out to see my ass graduate and get the heck up out of there at that point. Guess I can’t really blame them. I kinda screwed up their whole little ignorance is bliss thing. If that is true, if ignorance really is bliss, well I guess I’m just a wipe the smile off my face then kind of gal.

On to UW-Milwaukee. College is fodder for one with Save The World Syndrome’s soul. The list of student orgs you can join is more fun and more difficult to choose than picking your classes. You name it and I wanted to join. The one that seemed most suited to my non meat eatin’, salad bar gettin’, tadpole savin’ self- yup, Students for Animal Rights.

Hold up now! I know the first thing you thought of when you read that was PETA. Don’t even. I’ll get to them assholes later. Just chillax and hear me out.

I think it was like four meetings in when I got nominated and voted in as the first Freshman President they’d ever had. Before I agreed to take it, I told them I would do it ONLY if the group embraced my philosophy on what the group should be and how we should represent ourselves. I even made them revote after I was done with my little speech. The vote came back with me still President. Six members quit and walked out. In the next three weeks though, we gained 45 new ones. My philosophy?

We act as a RESPONSIBLE voice for the rights and treatment of animals and an educational resource for the students. Our library had squat covering anything to do with animal rights. This meant stocking books and literature that presented ALL sides to the main issues that were at hand and allowing those reading them to come to their own beliefs- whether it was that same as ours or not.

We did NOT call people who ate meat evil, we did offer sound, trusted information on how to healthfully embrace vegetarianism. ALL “shock material” was tossed. I got huge shipments of bumper stickers, samples, buttons, literature- you name it- from The Body Shop, The Humane Welfare Society and other groups and companies that did not test on animals. We were not to protest in any way, shape, or form unless it was agreed upon by the whole group. In fact, a dog farm in Darboy was our only real protest. That and assisting in getting steel jaw traps banned in Wisconsin (yuppers, I actually spoke at the hearing they had at the state capitol) were our two big stances that year. I’ll save those stories for another day cuz this bad boy is already way too long. Sorry bout that. I also worked with several other student groups and organized the first ever Earth Day Festival at UWM. That day just kicked ass. Last, but not least, we were NEVER, EVER to portray ourselves as the student division of PETA.

While, at that time, fundamentally I do believe PETA’s heart was in the right place, they’ve had (even then) a history of goin’ about it the wrong way. I don’t do backasswards well. At least not when it comes to important things. My grandma always taught me you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Sittin’ in the Union by the food court with giant posters of scalpless monkeys and gorey lab animals = beyond vinegar. Sittin’ in the Union by the food court with vegan brownies, Kiss My Face samples, Body Shop animal friendly buttons and please adopt, spay and neuter your pets posters= honey. And I am all about the sweet folks.

I’m gonna wrap this part up for now (finally!) But, I’ll leave you with a lil something to kick back and ponder while I’m writing the third (and last) part of my Save The World Syndrome “affliction” saga…

Nowadays, you mention PETA and people think of a bunch of crazy assholes that want Obama to apologize for a fly. Seriously, a fly. No matter what you picture, then or now, I never understood one thing. Perhaps it’s just the dork in me. But, it’s the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. “EH-THICAL.” Not “EEE-THICAL.” So why the hell do they pronounce it like they’re freakin’ pocket bread???

Yeah, yeah, yeah… if you read yesterday’s new post, you probably came running to this (who am I kidding? I’m surprised I have anyone that reads my babbling) thinkin’ this was post #2. Sorry, it’s so not. BUT, before you get all cross-eyed, it does kinda fit in the theme and it’s a quick one.

What’s the best way to get this girl to do something? Tell me I can’t. Seriously, I have a huge history of this. I love it when someone tells me it’s impossible or I can’t and I get to turn around and say “HA!!! YOU WERE WRONG!!!” So…

First tattoo. I thought long and hard about it. I knew, even at 18, the permanency of it. It wasn’t some accessory I could just take off. It was a part of my skin, my soul exposed and brandished proudly. (This was before it was ultra “cool” by the way and the term “tramp stamp” wasn’t even remotely thought of.) I had it drawn up for months. My choice? A Japanese cartoon frog. Now hear me out.

It is still symbolic for two reasons and I still love it.

1. The cartoonyness reminds me to hold tightly to all that is amazing about being a child. Looking at life in wide-eyed wonderment, that ability to cut through all the bullshit that we learn as we grow up that taints things and see clearly through to the truth, the purity of things. And.. that ability to love undconditionally. Screw all that color, race, creed, political view, sex, sexual preference, all that stupid tagage that gets attached to everyone. I HATE (yup, not a word I really ever use) labels. Period. I am simply Natali. No more. No less.

2. I had a huge love for frogs growing up. LOVED them. Would pluck them out of the creek behind our house and try to sneak them in through the pockets of my overalls all the time. My sensei told me that the reason for this was two part. She still feels I have a very strong understanding and connection to their culture. In their culture frogs represent healing. She sees me as a great healer and therefore, it fitting that I would bond affectionately to frogs so much.

So, in my lil purse I carried this drawing around with me. One day sis and I happen to be near the Black Dragon, where she’d gotten hers a couple years before. They had a really great rep too. In we go, I lay down the drawing and ask them for a quote. He tells me $35. I’m shocked. That’s it? Sis was shocked too. I say ok. They say they have an opening right then. I totally freeze.. EEK! I just wanted to know how much! I remember- no cash. 🙂 They point out the ATM down the block. They are a touch goating at this point. The fiesty starts to come out. Down the block I go.

I come back wielding my cash, slap it down with the design and say let’s do this. Now, if you’ve gotten a tat- you know there really isn’t any way to describe the feeling of getting one. If you’ve not gotten one one, you can understand the wondering of “how bad is this really gonna hurt?”

I ask the guy “ok, what kind of pain am I looking at here.” Then they start. Yup, they. There were only 2 artists in the shop, both guys. Big, burly tattoo looking guys. I looked like a lil freakin’ cartoon character myself. (Seriously, w/ my red hair a ton of peeps at UWM called me “Pebbles”) They start going on and on “Oh, you’re going to scream and cry.” “Oh you’ll pass out.” “Oh you’ll think your leg is going to fall off.” Each one translates in my head of them saying “Oh you can’t handle this.”

Then I hear “Oh and there’s going to be so much blood.”

I snap.

I look the guy who is gonna be “my first” dead in the eyes and say “I bleed once a month mother fucker, give me the goddamn tattoo!”

My sister gasps. A wicked grin forms over the artist and he says “You, sweet child, fucking ROCK! Get your ass back here, this is going to be fun!”

I took it like a champ. When it was done, he kissed my hand, told me I’d always remember my first and that I would be back. He did my second one dirt cheap after that.

But yeah… go ahead. Tell me I “can’t.” I dare you!