Suggestion Saturday: January 11, 2014

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, poems, art sites, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

Silk – Interactive Generative Art. I’ve always admired people who can draw. Sadly, it isn’t a skill that ever developed for me beyond the stick figure level, but this website makes me feel like an artist. All you have to do is point, click, and drag the lines in this page to create beautiful works of online art. It’s really interesting to compare this link to the interactive art site I posted last week.

Life and Donuts. What is the meaning of life? I think this is a pretty good answer to that question.

Do we hug? Because my feeling is that no, we don’t. I’m very cuddly in certain situations and not at all a hugger in other ones. This post has some great advice on how to politely refrain from hugging someone when you really don’t want to.

How I Cured My Imposter Syndrome. This is such good stuff.

From The Heartbreak of HyperEgoRidiculousness:

I’m always a little bit amused when somebody feels like I should care whether they “approve of my lifestyle.”…It’s really pretty simple. If people disagree with who we are or what we do, and based on that they choose personally not to do it, that’s fine.  If they feel the need to be vocally against who we are or what we do, and they do that at us, that is problematic behavior.

From Used To via carolynlawrence:

I used to steal carrots from grandpa’s garden and wash them in the birdbath
I never concerned myself with
the appropriateness of this
the possibility of illness
the disgust of it all
I did so because it was there


Have you ever wondered what it’s like to live with Tourette’s Syndrome? Against Medical Advice is the autobiography of the childhood of a man who was diagnosed with it alongside a few other illnesses.

This book is  a fascinating glimpse into an illness that most people don’t have personal experience dealing with. This is a great introduction to what it’s like to live with Tourette’s Syndrome, and although I wish it had gone into more depth about certain aspects of the author’s illness  I think it will be especially interesting to readers who haven’t studied any mental illnesses in-depth.

What have you been reading?

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After the Storm: Part Thirty-Eight

Photo by Paul Goyette.

Photo by Paul Goyette.

Just tuning in? Start here. 

The next few days passed quietly. Ephraim was called to another household only to discover there was nothing he could do to help a woman who’d been badly burned in a kitchen fire. He’d had precious little training since that solitary winter apprenticeship five years ago, but he was the closest thing they had to a real doctor.

The little mite was growing quickly, although Daphne still tried to keep her distance from it for now. Babies were fragile creatures.

It was better not to get attached until it was older and stronger.

If only she wasn’t the only person available to rock it while Mariposa bathed a very agitated Paige for the second time today, the children stacked the last of their firewood by the front door and Ephraim trudged home with as much water as he could carry. The baby was beginning to figure out how to lift its head and smile, and it hated nothing more than to be left alone in its crib while the adults worked. She would have strongly preferred to pass it off to one of the older children, but her knee was too tender to support any weight other than her own.

Daphne had never imagined this would be her life. She’d grown attached to Wilma and Felix, but she’d never intended to raise one child. Now she somehow had accumulated four of them. Even years after starting the process all over again she still wondered if she had done the right thing when she allowed them to claim her.

A creaking front door interrupted her thoughts.

“Oma, we’re finished.” The girl brushed a tangled lock of hair from her shoulders as she stepped inside. Her brother quietly followed her, his face even dirtier than hers.

“Wash your hands and faces and stir the beans. We’ll eat as soon as Ephraim is back.”

The house grew quiet again for a moment as they washed up in the kitchen basin.

“Hello!”

Daphne’s heart skipped a beat.

“Isaac? Is that you?” She scooted to the edge of her seat and leaned forward as far as she could manage with a baby in her lap. She smiled when he popped his head around the door and grinned. It had been nearly a month since her younger son had left on his latest trading mission, and she was surprised by how much she’d missed him. Daphne never would have a guessed that a house as full as theirs could feel so empty with just one member missing.

“You’ve got that back room all cleared out!”

“Yes, finally. Mariposa wants to give it a good scrubbing, but we thought we’d save the major construction for the summer.” The house had once included two extra rooms that were now in disrepair. Mariposa had seen no reason to fix them when she lived alone, but they desperately needed the extra space now. Their ceilings were full of large, gaping holes and the few pieces of antique furniture in them were all but unusable.

“What have you heard?” she asked. It was better to get straight to the point now before the room filled up again.

“Tinsdale is with us. Sloane hasn’t decided yet. Mercy wants to help, but their population is even smaller than ours and they don’t believe in self defence. I don’t know how much good they’d do, although of course I said yes.”

“Weapons?”

Isaac smiled.

“I take it that’s a good thing?”

“I’d rather show you than tell you, but I want to eat first,” he shrugged. The excitement of nearly getting caught by the patrol was still coursing through his veins. His mother would find out soon enough just how lucky he’d been. For now Isaac wanted to prolong her good mood.

It was a quiet, pleasant dinner. Paige, freshly scrubbed and no longer smelling like the feces she’d hidden underneath the bed, listened intently to Isaac’s stories as they ate. The older woman had seemed to recognize Felix in the morning, but after her second nap of the day her mood had quickly soured. She was so pleasant at dinner, though, that for a moment Daphne wondered if this was going to turn out to be a good day after all.

“Lucio, did you feed the chickens?” An old ache brushed against Daphne’s chest. She’d never been particularly close to her neighbour, but the death of so many adults in his family had left a gaping hole in the community.

“No, but I will after we eat,” Isaac said, not missing a beat. It had been many years since anyone in the area had owned chickens, but he’d learned from experience that telling Paige this was nearly as upsetting as reminding her that all of her children and grandchildren were dead. Chickens had been a valuable source of food when she was young, and she hated the thought that the practice had died out.

“See you it that you do. You really should have finished your chores before we all sat down.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

“She’s getting worse,” Isaac said in a low tone as he and his mother began washing the dishes.

“I know,” Daphne said. “She still has her good days and her bad days, but it seems like she takes more time to find her way back now.”

“Is the medicine working?”

“No.” That wasn’t a surprise. Herbs could be used to calm a patient down, but Daphne knew of nothing that would restore old memories.

“The exchange is tomorrow at sunset,” he said as the main room slowly emptied out. It took both Mariposa and Ephraim’s efforts to get Paige to go to bed, and even then she slept better if the children laid down next to her.

“What do we tell your brother?”

“Let me handle that. Just be there on time.”

 

 

 

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December 2013 Search Engine Questions

Photo by Mbruciak.

Photo by Mbruciak.

Sometimes readers find this blog through unusual search terms. Here are my responses to the ones that showed up last month. 

How do you solicit a donation from amazon.com? Go here.

Can I keep my child away from his grandparents in Ontario? So far yes. It’s very, very sad when it happens, but this is one of those things that should be worked out without outside influences. It’s not our place to judge how other people live. ,Whether the parents were justified in their decision or not the truth always comes out eventually. Kids are intelligent, and by the time they reach adulthood they’ll know if they were being protected from extremely dangerous relatives or sheltered from loving, caring ones. (Or some shade of grey between the two).

How long does it take to forgive a friend? Between 30 seconds and a lifetime.

How to forgie someone without saying it? I can only assume you’re part of this family and want to know how to add to it.

Option #1: If you have a uterus and would like to use it, ask someone you know and trust to lend you some sperm. With any luck you’ll have a baby by next autumn. And babies don’t talk.

Option #2: Marry someone who doesn’t speak.

Option #3: Adopt one or more children, but never teach them how to pronounce your last name.

😉

When shouldn’t you wear eye liner? When you know you’ll be applying it with a shaky hand.

Is “on the other hand” a metaphor? Technically it’s an idiom. I picked that name for my blog because I want my readers to look at issues from every angle. Few things annoy me more than black and white world thinking. Yes, I realize it’s a little bit of a contradiction, but I have trouble being patient with people who think that their way is the only one.

Should a pastors kid be better than other children?  I understand the urge to set a good example, but that’s a ton of pressure to place on someone who has no say in the matter. It’s better, I think, to focus on your own behaviour. That’s all any of us can actually control.

What is Wes Moores attitude toward wearing uniform? I’d imagine that he’s in favour of it. If I ever meet him in person I will ask him!

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Secular Meditation Redux

Photo by Miguel Virkkunen Carvalho.

Photo by Miguel Virkkunen Carvalho.

Longterm readers may remember how I dabbled with secular mediation a few years ago.

This is generally how those sessions went:

Ok, it’s time to meditate! 

Shoo, thoughts.

<silence>

How long have I been doing this?

<silence>

The silence is nice, but how do I know when to stop? 

<silence>

How long has it been, again? What if I fall asleep?

I’m not Buddhist, but the idea of meditating is very appealing to me. Unfortunately the actual practice of it has been pretty elusive. Once every year or so I’d try it again with equally non-meditative results.

And then late last year I discovered Calm. It’s a free meditation site that can be used in a few different ways. You can set a timer on the site and otherwise not interact with it at all. You could also participate in their prerecorded guided meditation exercises, download the Calm app, or set a timer and simply listen to the instrumental background music they play continuously.

I didn’t expect this, but my favourite part of the Calm site is their guided meditation exercises. They are as short as 2 and as long as 20 minutes in length. As a beginner I find it really helpful to follow someone else’s prompts, although I suspect there may come a time when I no longer need this guidance.

The background noise on it’s own is a little distracting for me because it cycles between nature sounds and instrumental music so rapidly.

It will be interesting to see if I can keep up this new habit!

If you meditate, how did you learn how to make it a longterm part of your daily routine?

 

 

 

 

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Suggestion Saturday: January 4, 2014

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, humorous articles, short stories, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

From Morgan: A Lyric:

We talked a number of times about his decision over the next several weeks, though we both knew he had no real choice. I repeated what so many had observed: given the rigor and discipline of his therapy, given his unusual muscular strength and the excellent condition of his heart, of all his organs other than the lungs, there could be no more ideal candidate for transplant. He simply needed time to contend with the fear, and to accept the enormity of the challenges—and risks—he faced.

 A Report on Alien Life via Skelemika.  How would you describe an alien species unlike anything you’ve ever seen before?

Neon Flames. I found two different online art programs recently. This is the first one I came across, and I’ll share the other one next week. What I like about this site is its use of colour. The site I’ll be sharing next week is much more responsive to small movements in your mouse or keypad, but this one allows you to blend different colours in some very creative and beautiful ways.

I Tried Cosmo’s Weirdest Sex Tips So You Don’t Have To. This is the funniest damn thing I’ve read in 2013. Not a work-safe link.

Dear Lips. The whole blog is entertaining, but this is a great place to start.

Can We Talk about Susan’s Fabulous Adventures after Narnia? For anyone who doesn’t understand the reference, Susan is a main character early on in the Narnia series who is later written out of the narrative with the explanation that she now likes wearing lipstick and nylons. Because of this terrible “betrayal” she’s no longer considered to be a Friend of Narnia. I loved The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe as well as most of its  sequels as a kid, but I always hated how C.S. Lewis abandoned one of his most interesting characters. This post describes what Susan’s life might have actually been like after she grew up.

How I Met Batman. The less you know about this beforehand the better. No, it’s not fiction, I just think my readers will enjoy it more if they start reading with as few preconceptions as possible.


The Rebellion of Miss Lucy Ann Lobdell is the perfect book with which to begin 2014.

Imagine growing up in a society whose social restrictions on you are so tight they feel like a strand of fishing wire wrapped around your throat. You can’t breath, you can’t speak, and if you move an inch they will slice your skin open. Because you were born female the list of things that you are allowed to do is miniscule. You can get married and have a house full of children, you can live at home with your parents or another relative, or you can become a teacher for a short time before settling into what preferably would be the first option.

Miss Lucy Ann chose a different path entirely. This fascinating tale is written from the point of view of a woman who chose to start living as a man in a time when doing so was extremely dangerous.

Not to mention the fact that Miss Lucy Ann had to abandon her own child in order to earn enough money to take care of her.

What have you been reading?

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After the Storm: Part Thirty-Seven

Photo by Dustin Gilbert, http://www.flickr.com/photos/randomesquephoto/.

Photo by Dustin Gilbert, http://www.flickr.com/photos/randomesquephoto/.

Just tuning in? Start here. 

“Girl, you know that isn’t good for you,” Daphne wiped the sweat off of her forehead as a pale, young woman dragged an impossibly old dresser out of the back room. “You shouldn’t be working so hard in this heat.”

Mariposa smiled wryly at the older woman.  What heat? It was the middle of February, and a particularly cool one at that.

“You can only stay in bed for so long,” she replied after a long moment of silence that coated every inch of air between them like a miniature haboob. “It feels good to move.”

Harrumph. Daphne opened her mouth to push the issue and then closed it again. If there was one thing she’d learned about the girl since they’d moved in it was that Mariposa was even more obstinate than her mother-in-law. Since being pushed into making a particular decision had never worked for Daphne she had little reason to believe that it would be effective on someone who acted so much like her.

“Will you at least come inside and eat some lunch?” Most of the vegetables weren’t ripe yet, of course, but Daphne had gathered what she could from their backyard garden to supplement the last of their dried food. It would be nice to have fresh meals again for a few months. She leaned heavily on her cane as she slowly stood up and brushed the dust off of her tunic.

“Are Felix and Wilma back yet?” They were honestly too young to be bringing water back on their own, but neither Daphne nor Mariposa was physically capable of performing that chore at the moment. Daphne’s knee had slowly but steadily grown more painful, while Mariposa’s confinement was a much less permanent one.

“No, but they should be soon. Come in and have some tea with me while they wait.”

From the outside the house had changed very little in the last four years. No one had expected Daphne and her family to stay more than a fortnight, but once they realized they’d need to live with Mariposa at least through the winter Ephraim and Isaac had constructed a temporary shelter for the animals. In bitterly cold weather they would be invited into the house, of course, but three rooms was already a tight squeeze for the five adults, two children, and two territorial cats who needed the warmth even more.

Lemon lasted an hour in the lean-to that first night before his howls woke up the household. The mule didn’t mind sleeping away from the noisy humans, but a dog who had spent his first 8 weeks curled up next to his siblings and the next seven years keeping Daphne company was not about to be separated from her.

“Ambrosia is not going to like this,” Mariposa had said as Daphne lead her old companion to her corner of the room.

“I’ll keep them separated,” came a groggy reply. Within minutes Daphne and the dog were sleeping, his head tucked under her arm. Within hours the cats had learned to avoid that corner of the room for fear of encouraging the yellow beast to lick them, and after a few days they’d negotiated an uneasy peace. The storage room where Daphne and her sons slept was Lemon’s territory. The rest of the house belonged to the cats, although they pretended not to notice when he walked in and out the front door.

A soft whine interrupted Daphne’s walk down memory lane. An orange tabby had her old friend pinned to the floor, and as Daphne walked into the main room the cat paused for a moment before going back to his grooming rituals.

“That’s what you get for rolling around in the dust,” she teased as Apple began washing the dog’s ears. The mixture of pleasure and embarrassment on his face tickled the corners of her mouth. Daphne had hoped they would adjust to one another once conditions in Mingus grew worse and she knew they wouldn’t be returning for a long time, but she never expected the cats to become so comfortable around him that they began imposing their sense of hygiene on a creature who would honestly much rather avoid a bath.

It was an easy lunch to cobble together. Daphne had mixed up the bread dough as soon as the first streaks of daylight painted the sky, so all that was left was washing the vegetables and setting out the plates as Mariposa started heating up water for tea and checked on the baby.

When the table was set Daphne glanced at the stone out of habit. She’d set it on the kitchen table to catch the morning sunlight in the hope that it would charge up enough to turn on today. No such luck. The inbox was empty and there were no new messages. In fact, it didn’t look as if anyone had logged on in months.

Sometimes messages popped up when you least expected them to, though, and more than once Daphne had read a half-finished letter that later disappeared from view. The HantaFlu, as people had begun calling it, seriously disrupted the lines of communication in the capitol. For nearly a year there hadn’t been any messages from President Whyte at all, and even when the senate began meeting again it had taken another year for them to resume regular communications with the colonies.

That is what New Arizona was, after all. Or at least what it was supposed to be. Peoria might be governing herself for now, but Daphne had no illusions about who would really be in charge if the soldiers returned.  Her adopted home had neither the weapons nor the manpower to stop them.

Yet.

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After the Storm: The Story so Far

Several months ago I started blogging chapters from a post-apocalyptic novel I’ve been writing. I’ve had a bump in readership since then and thought it would be helpful to provide a brief synopsis of what’s happened so far for anyone just tuning in now.

Interested in catching up before the novel resumes later on this week? Start here.  Skip everything after this sentence if you don’t want spoilers.

Daphne is a older single mother to two teenage sons who recently moved away to start apprenticeships. She lives in a small, rural community called Mingus in what used to be Arizona, and she’s known in her community as an eccentric, stubborn, and not necessarily trustworthy individual. (You’ll have to read the first half  of the book yourself to determine if any of these accusations are true. 😉 )

After the Storm begins with Daphne desperately trying to avoid a flash flood. While sitting on top of a hill and waiting for the water to go down she spies a stranger who tries to continue on with his journey too soon. He’s swept away by the current and drowns before anyone has a chance to speak to him, although a waterlogged book in his possession eventually yields a few tantalizing clues about why he might have travelled to Mingus. 

The next few weeks are quiet until a mysterious ailment begins killing people in Mingus at around the same time that soldiers from a city that claims to be the new capital move into the valley. Crops wither or rot as whole families are stricken by this ailment. Despite her fear of her neighbours Daphne is voluntold to take a place on the ruling body of Mingus due to severe a lack of able-bodied adults who can take on the role. All of her experience with the justice system have shown her how corrupt and prejudiced small town politics can be, and she has no reason to think it’s changed in the intervening years.

Daphne’s nosy neighbour, Neveah, and her family are particularly hard hit by the virus.  When nearly all of the adults in that family die within days of one another, Daphne’s empathetic son Ephraim convinces her to take in the two small children and one very elderly woman who survived. One of the children was born with a physical difference that makes him an easy target in a society that has long since forgotten how genetics work. The polytheistic religion that many of her neighbours follow teaches that people like him aren’t to be trusted, especially during long periods of bad luck.

Without enough food to feed almost twice as many people as Daphne’s gardens normally support, the summer is long, hot, and miserable. A series of run-ins with the soldiers gives Daphne a chilling glimpse of the society that sent them. The people of Mingus are promised free medical care from a culture much more advanced than their own, yet they end up submitting to tests that do more harm than good and home inspections that are erratic and sometimes extremely dangerous. 

As fall draws near things become more dire. Mingus is growing more and more wary of the soldiers’ interference in their daily lives, and one of Daphne’s fellow ombudsmen is beginning to help her reach out to other communities in an attempt to fight back. Between starvation and disease Mingus is quickly losing social cohesion, so they have to act fast.

In one of the final scenes of the first half of the book, a neighbour warns Daphne that people are beginning to turn against anyone they perceive as different. She and her family escape to Peoria, a neighbouring town, to wait out the chaos. They expect to only be gone a few weeks.

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The Cupboard Mice: A Parable

Mice_(1)Originally posted on February 21, 2013.

A family of mice once lived in a drafty old farmhouse.

“They’re going to set a trap and we’re all going to die!” the oldest mouse squeaked every time someone forgot the rules: no squeaking, don’t leave droppings on the dishes, and never capture the cat’s attention. No one remembered what a trap was any longer, only that it was something terrible people did when they noticed mice.

As the family grew it became more difficult to follow the rules.

“We’ll be safe in this house if we teach the young mice that cheese is forbidden,” the oldest mouse insisted every time the humans shuffled into the kitchen. They’d lived in this farmhouse for decades and had begun to have trouble moving around.

A young mouse asked, “What makes you think there’s any danger? The humans don’t even seem to know we exists.”

“Not yet,” said the oldest mouse. “But the cat can smell us. Why do you think we avoid his territory?”

The young mouse wasn’t sure she believed it was that dangerous and decided to explore the rest of the house. The cat in question was old and docile.

“You’re all going to die!” insisted the oldest mouse as the rest of her nestlings slowly moved out of the kitchen and closer to the radiators. The humans had grown accustomed to leaving dirty plates on the floor and so the wanderers had food and a warm place to sleep during the long winter. Soon she was the only mouse left in the kitchen.

Every week or two the younger mice came to visit. She always made sure they knew how dangerous their lives had become since moving away. Some of her visitors smiled politely and nibbled the stale crackers she provided, others tried to gently reason with her. No one could change her mind, though, and she died at the first flush of spring without any of her warnings coming to pass.

 

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Suggestion Saturday: December 28, 2013

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, poems, comics, sketches, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

East Hastings via jtvancouver. Such creativity. Although I never want to visit East Hastings now! Hehe.

Objects Blended with Simple Sketches. I love this kind of art. Be sure to click on the link to part one of this series at the bottom of this link. It’s just as fascinating!

The Other Side of the Story. The author of this piece was abused by her eighth grade History teacher when she was 14 and he was 23. In the essay she talks about what happened during and after that time in her life. Fair warning: certain details may be disturbing to some readers.

From Vanilla via aBelaney:

 It was my crutch.  It was my refuge.  Ultimately, it was my executioner. I find myself railing against these circumstances that robbed me of perhaps another thirty years to put out my message.  I could have accomplished so much more.  It was my weakness that overpowered my strength.

It’s Sunday, Will I Be Seeing You at Church Today? Whether prayer bothers me depends on the circumstances. If they’re being used to push someone else’s religious beliefs on me or in ways that would not be accepted if the tables were turned it’s an issue. If they’re used as a substitute for sentiments like “I’m thinking of you,” or “I hope it all turns out well” I’m 100% fine with it. With that being said, this comic strip is seriously hilarious.

From Turning the Leaves:

We count our birds. We read their wings. We script
stories in the scrim of puddled ice, tell tales
to ease the winter in. We sing

From Secrets:

I am no stranger to holding my breath. I’ve ghosted through these family gatherings most of my life, at moments performing good daughterhood so well that I almost forget how much I have to hide and swallow in order to belong. But good daughterhood is a performance that must be continually enacted, reinforced, and that is where I fail.

My reading list has grown thin. What are you reading?

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The Case for Getting Married If You Want to and When You’re Ready

694px-PolyloveThis post was inspired by a tweet from Grace: “‘The Case for getting married if you want to and when you are ready.’ Someone get on this.” Originally posted on March 28, 2013.

Marriage isn’t only for opposite sex, monogamous couples who want to have kids. It should be an option for any constellation of consenting adults for the following reasons:

Symbols matter. Of course you can have love and commitment without marriage (or marriage without love or commitment) but the act of reciting vows or slipping a ring onto your finger is a powerful reminder of your emotional bond.

Longterm relationships are difficult. Sometimes you’ll be so frustrated with your significant other(s) that you wonder why you ever fell for them. Marriage is a public proclamation of your love and commitment that invites your community to share your joy and pain. A promise spoken out loud in front of everyone carries more weight than one you think but never say because it transforms an intention into a tangible demonstration of your emotions.

OttersHoldingHands

Photo by Penyulap.

Sympathetic friends and family members can also pull you through these tough times by reminding you why you married your spouse(s). Don’t underestimate the value of listening to outside opinions when you find yourselfhashing over the same issues with your significant other(s). Not all of this advice will be useful, of course, but sometimes a fresh point of view can help you understand the parts of your marriage that aren’t working well at the moment.

It protects you legally. To give just a few examples, if your spouse becomes extremely ill you automatically have next-of-kin status at the hospital. Upon their death you automatically inherit their assets if there isn’t a will. You can foster or adopt children jointly. Sponsoring a spouse for residency or immigration is faster and easier than sponsoring other relatives.

Should these benefits be constricted to married people? The answer to that question would fill its own blog post but right now marriage comes with a long list of benefits that aren’t available to the legally single.

 Married people have more satisfying sex lives. Ignore all of the TV shows and movies that portray marriage as an instant libido killer. Statistically speaking married couples have more and better sex than the single folks we assume are having much more fun than us. Trust and communication are incredibly sexy once you’ve been together long enough to know exactly how to turn your partner(s) on emotionally and physically.

The institution is evolving. Almost everyone living in the west chooses their own spouses and marries for love. The system is far from perfect but we are slowly creating a society that accepts a wide variety of ways to live. I believe there is great value in  changing our cultural expectations of marriage to a more inclusive and egalitarian form of it.

In no way does this mean that everyone must get married. What makes me happy might make you miserable but it can be a beautiful experience if it’s something you’re interested in pursuing.

Respond

Do you agree with me? What have been your experiences with marriage?

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