A Look Into the Milo Situation

I have been aware of Milo Yiannopoulos for quite some time. Intrigued by his confidence, fearlessness, and intelligence. He had a direct voice and said everything everyone wished they could say, but didn’t have the words to as effectively. You can tell he is a very unusual person, that does not come around often but his voice needed to be here. People were afraid to speak up about political opinions. People like Milo did give a voice to the voiceless.

That is why I do not think Milo is a bad person. He could have stepped away and left the movement completely without his voice. But he didn’t. The problem is people tend to think because Milo is in the spotlight he is this sort of superhuman, capable of upholding his strength in every situation. What we witnessed of Milo trying to explain how his abuse taught him how to be sexually proficient, is a victim trying to protect themselves from reoccurring trauma. Perhaps, you think it is cowardly. You have a right to think so. Maybe you feel sorry for him. You have a right to think so. But overall this brings up some interesting questions.

Boys tend to hit puberty later than girls so if pedophilia is having sexual urges towards children that have not yet hit puberty, then boys that are taken advantage of very young are more likely to have not reached sexual maturity. Therefore, there is a flaw in his stance.And I would go further to say it isn’t even that black and white. States define legal adults differently across the country.

The fact is any adult who takes advantage of someone who is not yet a legal adult is not a moral, healthy, and beneficial member of society. Simple. Unless the entire country can agree on one age which would be considered a legal adult nationwide, pedophilia will continue to be based upon which state you reside in. Unfortunately I think this leads to confusion on the matter. Some are convicted while others are not. Perhaps, coming up with a general consensus of what is a legal adult nationwide could help define laws more specifically and make things like social security, IRS run a bit smoother as well.

I believe Milo is sadly a victim. How could he possibly know what he wants sexually at thirteen years of age? Most kids are developing interests, hobbies, and thinking about their future. It is not biologically possible nor psychologically possible to comprehend abuse at that age.

Unfortunately, we live in a day and age where even the strong have some weak spots in their armor. Everyone has a different way of coping when it comes to reacting to uncomfortable questions.

So is it okay to use humor to hinder the effect of trauma? Use your own moral compass. Is that considered denial? The only person who truly knows that answer is Milo himself. If he is content with his lifestyle choice, then he is content. If not, he needs to figure out why.

His comments suggest to me, he may have some personal issues to deal with or perhaps he has developed a coping mechanism. Regardless, I suggest people read the entire transcript before reacting. Then draw your own conclusions.

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Being Honest…

I just want to go back there. Go back where it smelled like corn and grass and fresh air. I want to feel my hands in the dirt and know I belong right there, with nothing but a tool and the earth. It is all I ever needed really.  All I ever needed was to become one with the land. I did not need this education, this annihilation of my true self to survive. All I needed was a mentor. Or to take the time to become my own mentor. Somehow I lost sight of my own objectives in life. I tried to pursue something big, perhaps to impress people around me more than myself. I just want to be accepted, to be loved, to be thought of as intelligent and beautiful. Not just a face. I wanted to have it all but what I didn’t realize is I already did have it all. I just wouldn’t allow myself to give myself credit for anything. I had this mentality that nothing I did was good enough.

And I notice this in myself and other people. I notice this social occurrence where people keep beating themselves and others down to achieve greatness. It is trying to think of how much energy is wasted on this mentality. All the energy could be used to be productive if people were respectful of other peoples talents.

Let’s be realistic. Not everyone is meant for college but some are. Some should go to trade school. Some should start a business or a farm. Either way, people should be able to choose what they want without this intrusion of free will. In my opinion, people have adopted this go to college and get a job ideology. It is unhealthy to push someone into something which is not for them. Period. We do not need more student debt but we need more welders and skilled workers more than ever in this country. We don’t need a hundreds of thousands of people with a Bachelors degree and no job. In this push to push the next generation forward with education, a lot of parents have created a nightmare. Their children just want to impress them, rather than be happy. They end up misdirected, depressed, unemployed, or having to move away from the family structure for any opportunity.

What happened to the family structure in America? What happened to the I have your back mentality? I feel as if it was more dominant in this country in the past. The wealth was more distributed when American families stuck together. Is there a connection here? I am not sure. However, I am sure if a family sticks together and either passes down a trade or supplies the funds for an education there is little struggle usually. Divorces shouldn’t be done so often in this country. People need to learn how to mend what is broken rather than running away from it. We need to be not so hard on each other, and practice a gentle hand.

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The Woman Who Lost it All (A Fictional Short Story)

She sits on her leather sofa they just bought a year ago, thinking “oh how I once worried about what color this is. Now I just want to get rid of it for free.” Caressing the leather, she imagines she isn’t even there but rather in another state, in a new house, with a new man, and her beautiful children treating him as if he is their blood. Over and over she tells herself it isn’t too late to fight for what she has always wanted; peace.

Their pictures are everywhere. Old memories once kept her sane, but now make her think she is headed inside a straight jacket. His scent is everywhere. All over her clothes especially. She has spent the entire day re-washing everything. Almost symbolic in a way, cleansing the filth of his wrongdoings off of her. So much blame, she says to herself. So much blame I have taken on to get to this point. All the introspection, day and night, beating myself up for what? To be forgotten. What happened to not giving up on someone? These days she perceives everyone as on the go, on to the next, and rather than fixing what is wrong, finding the new thing that might feel right for an evening or two.

Where do I get my faith? Do I ask god why this happened to me?Or rather just face the fact he would rather kiss the lips of another than mine. Why? She asks. In my head, he is still like a god. I still love the part  of him I first locked onto. How could he make it all go away? So quickly? Why can’t i?

She is convinced her heart is a fool or it is derived from gold. She chooses the gold because it makes it easier to hope. Hope for herself and hope for her children to grow up with a male figure who teaches them how to play ball, treat women, and straighten their tie. She wishes it could have been him but some play roles rather than living them.

The kids will be home shortly. So should he, but maybe he won’t be. He will probably call and say he is late at the office but she knows where he will be now. Thanks to a good friend at the restaurant, the reservation isn’t unnoticed. All bad deeds come to a bad end. Sometimes they just need a push into the end part so the dignity and esteem of the innocent remains intact.

She knew something was wrong when she tried to use the credit card last week but the credit line was used up. An expensive purchase, a ring, she waited for it last week but it never came for her. She thought it could be hidden around the house but after two days of searching there was minimal hope. She ponders: Why are my dreams always sold away to the desperate girl who would love a towel? That is not love. To be so desperate for someone to take care of you, is never love. I spent my life bearing his children, cleaning his underwear, cooking his food, and paying for a house I cannot even stand in without wanting to cry. I deserve that ring or no one will have it.

It is five thirty. The reservation is for 6. She kisses her children, tells the babysitter it will be a while, then leaves. The sound of the rain upon her windshield reminds her there are some things out of her control; like the weather. Like in life but she would have it no other way. Forget the umbrella she mutters. I want to feel the rain. For so long he kept it out, hid it inside, and now there is a storm.

She is on a mission. Briefcase in hand. Her soon to be ex husband, is desperately trying to woo a young lady after his wallet. Risking his children minds, money, his wife, and the rest of his life for what? An empty mind which needs to be developed. The girl knows better, she wants an easy way out. They both are in the wrong.

She sits down. Rests the briefcase upon the table. Everyone is suddenly still. They think there is a bomb, but no it is a lie detector. She tells him to put his finger in it like it has been in other places it shouldn’t have. Question by question she writes down the results in front of the other woman. For some reason it doesn’t bother her this man is a complete liar. Disgusting, the wife thinks. The crowd in the background is roaring with excitement. They think this is some kind of reality tv show like cheaters. She ensures them it is, knowing people will fall for anything their own mind creates.

At the end, she asks the other woman, knowing he is a liar for years, do you still want this man? The woman says, he won’t lie to me. Noticing the ring on the table, the wife quickly snatches it up and says well then if you are so greedy, why don’t you just eat this ring? If you can swallow it, you can keep it. Their faces are lined up, and the wife aggressively pops the ring into her mouth, makes her swallow it and says well that will be a memorable proposal. And by the way, hunny, could you sign these divorce papers? He quickly does and she is on her way.

The home is still riddled full of his memories and an occasional scent, but she laughs thinking of the last time she saw him. The woman, the ring, the detector, the crowd, and the papers. Her children are playing in the pool, as if nothing has happened. She thinks, I did it soon enough. She watches her new husbands muscle definition as he scrapes the pool, smiling at her children, then running to fetch a band aid after one of them falls to the ground. She thinks again, there is hope in people if they have it in themselves. Glad I never lost myself completely.

The Things You Said

If you said those things to me

and they were true

I might as well make a noose

and hang myself until blue…

but their not true…

they no longer turn me blue

and I cannot sit here

and watch all the rainbow of colors

turn into a select few…

and before you came along

I sang to  a song

inside my head

but there you had to go

pumping your lead

riding your horse

then taking off the saddle

when you offered me a ride…

only to make me hide

in the nap of the mane

cuz’ no one can tame

my spirit…

so take the lasso

the haircut I bought for you

the gas I blew threw

the money i spent on you

and burn it

cuz it never existed

I’ll never miss it

I’ll never wonder if I made you kiss

the bruises left behind

if in time you’d see how blind

your mind was wrapped in twine

never to be mine.

 

 

 

Who Told You Who I Am?

Who told you who I am?

how can they speak for me when they can’t speak like a man?

You come at me like a bull in heat

desperate for a person to complete

your next sentence like the fucking movies

but hate to break it to you this is reality…

you don’t maim who you love

you don’t break someone down

unless you want them to run off

with a better fucking clown….

I hate the way your lips move

but cannot rhyme

you have no talents

you can’t even focus on them

cuz’ you’re too blind

to your own sickness

running out of your veins

out your nose

then onto your face

teeth rotted out like they were never touched

you a man?

I think you need a toothbrush…

I can’t speak for all you men

cuz some of you have game

you can run in other people’s face

and the truth you can claim

but some of you should take the advertisement down

cuz you look like trash with that big old frown

Who told you who I am?

how can they speak for me when they can’t speak like a man?

you come at me like a pilot but without a plane

you acted all pimp without the cane

I wish I saw the stars in your eyes

were just reflections of the street lights

cuz the way you lit that cig

could make any heart stop…

Who told you who I am?

how can they speak for me when they can’t speak like a man?

How do you even know me when you were always in command?

A person ad midst a war is never able to stand.

 

The Angry Man

Did I look down

see an address on my chest?

Did you suddenly own me

and I became depressed?

Why yes I say

I don’t play that game

you had my head in circles

the minute your feet came

through the door

then out to the parking lot

late night drinking

it didn’t mean a lot

you wanted to escape your own reality

and in an essence you made mine so cold you see…

how could I not want to tear you down?

What did you give me from day one?

a frown.

Screw your entitled attitude

you’re a felon with a cause

blowing away other people’s confidence

instead of building yours

Go back to the 50’s

when women cooked and cleaned

and made babies

cuz you words spit verses

that carry on like hearses

but to your own funeral you ride

you make a cocktail

that could kill anyone’s insides…

you should be off the market

like a car with a catalytic recall

you acted available

but your brain was too screwed

to kick a ball

ruined your serotonin

with too many drug binges

held onto the pieces

but the puzzle never makes a picture

so you go to scripture

but the words never become clearer

cuz you keep takin’ your meds

takin’ the easy way out instead….

Did I look down

see an address on my chest?

Did you suddenly own me

and I became depressed?

Why yes I say I became a mess

your words cut through my skin

until I couldn’t care about my own flesh…

go back to the 50’s when women just popped out babies

cuz men like you end up in their own cages.

 

Realization

He stares into the night as if the road isn’t there anymore. He is driving but he appears to be floating mentally above the clouds, placing himself so high no one can catch up. Not even the pope, an oracle, Einstein, Dali, or any brilliantly crafted person could reach him. He chooses to be lost. There is the road but it goes back around in circles, creating a diversion even the strongest person could fall into. I have seen those eyes before, saddened, beat down, and fallin’ like the sword of a samurai. I don’t know when your eyes lost their color but I wish they could be restored the brightest color possible. I try to figure out all the triggers but so many exist it is nearly impossible to sustain some kind of bliss. Your mouth moves like a poem then a dagger. I blame myself but there is no way all your pain was caused by just me, you barely knew who I was. Perhaps, you could not see all your pain eventually manifested in me, like a ghost haunting a soul so I became the warrior. Left with scars, empty eggshells I once cracked to make you breakfast, I hold onto the thought the scars and eggshells will eventually just be nothing more than what they are.They will no longer remind me of suffering but of sacrifice. To change, is to sacrifice a part of yourself you no longer can be at harmony with. You were the part of myself I let go. You are a reminder pain exists but should never be laid upon another soul, already lifeless, already bruised, already out of battle. I may not be perfect but my god I have sustained myself through the impossible of times, and deserve a heart not secured by cast iron. I am too tired to peal back the layers of what is to find what was in someone. I am too broken to trust a world of creatures who move calculated rather than spirited. I will adore those who remain true and ignore those who chose a lie.