It would be incredibly cliche to write a piece detailing just how insanely awe inspiring it is that two people such as ourselves could create another living, breathing, tiny human being.  Along the same lines it would also be cliche to marvel at the journey from zygote to embryo to fetus to person, millions of cells dividing at rapid pace, forming bones and organs and skin and hair, even though it is utterly amazing.

So instead I present you, dear reader, with the consideration of Maddie’s big toe.

Maddie’s big toe is a perfect miniature clone of her father’s big toe.  Everything about it is exactly and unmistakably identical to her father’s.  When considered this means that somewhere, somewhere among millions of genes, lies a singular allele.  This allele is composed of a very specific combination of amino acids, coded in a very particular way, forming a linear protein structure,  laying on the tiniest portion of one of her chromosomes.  Is it this sequence of amino acids, this allele, that determines the very specific appearance of her big toe: an exact miniature of her father’s.

Out of infinite possibilities, out of all the combinations that could have arisen when my chromosomes and Mark’s chromosomes split and combined to form her’s, out of  all mutations that did not occur… we end up with a perfect baby with a perfect foot sporting an exact (albeit tiny) replica of her father’s big toe.

Now that is mind blowing.

I’m beginning to think I am one of those people who actually NEEDS stress in their life.  Periodically, as things settle down and chaos gives way to routine, I am confronted with the elusive and very desirable aspect of life known as “free time.”  Too much of it, however, always seemed to lead to an existential crisis. It was almost as if, when given a free moment, the mind simply started jumping to the question of “what’s the point?” Yet at the same time a life filled with too much stress was something I fought against in earnest.  Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe stress is less like my archenemy and more like a casual lover in many respects.

I’m trying to think back to a time when I had nothing going on and, honestly, I think I’d have to go back to high school to find it.  When Mark and I decided to get married, I was working as a waitress.  I picked up doubles every weekend in order to put money away for the move.  We planned a wedding, got married, and I continued to work overtime each week whilst putting together and sending off an application for my visa.  When I moved over, I was not only in a foreign country but also seeking employment.  When I switched jobs over to where I work currently, it also seemed like a logical time to move to a new flat as well.

I then began school in the fall of last year and, in order to free up time, I elected to drop most of my recreational activities in favor of studying for the Life in the UK test, beginning university science, and working full time. Except, I didn’t need to.  I passed the test and made the application for my next visa and quickly came to realize that if I stayed on top of the reading requirements for school, I still had copious amounts of free time.

Then, we got pregnant unexpectedly.

I guess the universe has a way of self correcting.

So now it was juggling full time employment with schooling and the pregnancy.  It was working out chemical equations whilst feeling highly nauseous and extremely tired.  And most days I wanted to quit everything, but instead powered through it.  And if that wasn’t enough we began looking for a property to buy as well.

After two dud properties Mark and I upped our viewing game and at 41 weeks pregnant, huge and overdue, we viewed 14 properties in a single day… and I was the one who scheduled them.  It’s almost as if, subconsciously, I was harboring an unfulfilled desire to have my waters rupture all over some stranger’s rug. We actually put in the offer on the place we are currently proceeding with the morning of the day I was scheduled to be induced.

It’s scenarios like these that make me think actually, as much as I fight against being stressed, I think I do a lot to invite it into my life as a means of giving my days structure and meaning. And I don’t mean that in a bad way either.  Consider Maddie:  having a baby IS stressful, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world and she gives my existence meaning.   Soon, we will be moving into our new property and soon, I will register for my next class at uni… due to begin in November.  I think it’s the stress that motivates me, it prevents me from asking “why?” because the why is obvious and unspoken, especially now in the sense that it can always be answered with “for Maddie.”

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If we were to look at a venn diagram of people who are capable of killing another human being vs. people who hate Glenn Beck, I’d be willing to bet there is considerable overlap.

What I am trying to say is these people need to step up and get the job done.

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Because boobs should only be exposed when you are using them to further your “career” as a no talent assclown, AMIRITE?!?!

Alternative blog title: Why some people should be both muted and sterilized.

It always starts innocently enough:  you belong to a community of people online, and as you browse the various recent forum topics you come across an off topic post, a debate about the new Arizona law enforcing spot check ID sessions for anyone who looks like an illegal immigrant.   Cautiously you may even open the thread and have a look at the responses people have given, but by then it’s too late: you’re going to post and your blood pressure is already on the rise.

I’ve been apart of this debate many times before in different settings with different people and it never turns out any differently.  My argument is well tuned: I’ve got the facts, figures, and links all to hand.  As one who is an immigrant, I can provide insight into a system most people don’t know a thing about…. and I do.  I first read the points others have made… if you can call them points.  Mostly it’s parroting of conservative media propaganda: Mexicans take our jobs, they ride the welfare and benefits system, they choose to come here illegally as opposed to legally.

So I lay my argument out: 99.9% of Mexican migrants do not qualify for any of the US visas which would allow them to live and work in the country legally.  The current systems needs to undergo reform so that we may ensure wages are taxed correctly, that equal wages are being given for equal work (most illegal immigrants make far less than minimum wage… which is why companies hire them), and have a means by which to track who is working.  Illegal immigrants are unable to claim for or file for any government assistance programs, and the statistics even show that there are far more  white, able bodied Americans taking advantage of the government welfare system than any other ethnic group.

So what am I countered with?  Not logical thought, facts, and sources but thinly veiled racism / xenophobia, outlandish claims based on what an individual has “seen” or “witnessed” and little gems of intelligence such as: “They come over here and have 5 or 6 kids each. And don’t tell me that’s their culture… they are trying to take over the country!”  And I hang my head in shame.  I love my home country. I have alot of pride for America and I try to defend America and Americans at any cost especially since living abroad, but comments like the aforementioned one make me so ashamed of my fellow countrymen.

And I thought that this being a DEBATE people would be on the same page: a coherent stance on an issue backed with actual facts and logical arguments.  But sadly this is “TEH INTERWEBZ, LULZ!” and such a thing doesn’t exist.  Instead it was page after page of the most ignorant opinions I have ever had the displeasure of reading… and it wasn’t the STANCE of the opinion that forces me to say that, but rather that most of the people in the debate could not form complete sentences with proper grammar let alone a coherent argument.

But I digress, this post isn’t actually ABOUT the debate itself.

Later that night I run the debate by my husband as we are lying in bed so I could at least salvage an intellectual conversation about the topic from the experience.  And he brought up the most interesting stance of all:  The way these people feel, the racism, the fear, the mere parroting of conservative scaremongering, was natural. It was more than that: it’s evolutionary.  We are nothing more than a group of monkeys and we have food, water, land and mates that we perceive this other group of monkeys (illegal immigrants) as wanting to come and take from us.  It’s us against them and we are primordially programmed to fear those different than us for the fear that what we have, now, will be overtaken.

“But if that’s the case that makes us no better than crapping in our hand and throwing it.”  I argued.

“Exactly.” Mark mused.

The thought certainly bothered me: all the evolution we’ve undergone, all the things we’ve accomplished as a species, ages of literature and thinkers and scientists and yet still all the average person can muster isn’t but a step ahead of flinging one’s own shit in self defense.   At the same time it made perfect sense: we’re nothing more than animals ourselves really, why should I expect us to rise above such primal dividers such as territory and race?

But I did have an answer to the question that had been bothering me:  Why, when you present someone with logic, reasoning, and facts, can you not change their minds?  The answer is simply because we are not programmed at a primal level to see beyond the Monkeysphere. We are a group, a clan, and we  have things we perceive others want to steal from us.  So we bear our teeth in a threatening display and raise the alarm, which will be heard and repeated by all the other monkeys.

Then, we fling our shit.  And it’s never going to get any more advanced than that.