In Random Pieces

Don't Tell Me How to be Gay

Oliviamaxell@live.com (Olivia Mistelle Mistelle) — 2010-06-27T23:09:00Z

Posted by Olivia Mistelle Maxell June 26, 2010

Word to the wise: Don’t tell me how to be gay.

I recently read an article of sorts stating open gay and lesbians who choose not to emerge themselves in the whole gay/lesbian history/art/literature and lifestyle are just self-loathing homosexuals. It went on to add these “straight-acting” gays/lesbians want to be accepted so much by the evil heterosexuals, that they desperately mirror the “sinister straight lifestyle.”

I pause to roll my eyes and take a deep breath to say with assertion, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Who sold out to push this shit?!

It’s ridiculous to denounce open gays and lesbians that supposedly “act straight.” It’s no different than those ‘straight camp’ fanatics handing out manuals on how to be straight instead of queer.

Who the hell gives anybody the right to push such intolerant sanctimonious asinine rhetoric to isolate certain members of the gay and lesbian community? Projecting much? I don’t need a "how-to guide" on the acceptable manners one should display if gay or lesbian. We are trying to evolve past labels but yet I see so many tossed around by the ones preaching to look past them? And please, if you disagree, don’t sigh in sorrow for my supposed “minimal enlightenment” with that burdened over-educated ideology, either. This egotistical socialist approach in presuming to know what others feel or what’s good for them is just ridiculous. Shut up.

The LGBTer’s living in between the larger cities are doing their best being who they are. Some don't have the luxury of being ‘super gay’ and others are just not naturally ‘super gay’. Most are just living their lives and happen to be gay. What's the big deal?

So, I say, shut up about what a dyke or butch should wear or not wear to be a ‘true dyke’ or a ‘real butch’. All this is showing is lack of tolerance to the LGBT and straight community by others in the LGBT community. It’s the same kind of narrow-mindedness shown by the bible thumpers who tell us how to be less gay and more “Jesus like.” I’m tired of being labeled this or that. Let’s stop manufacturing so many brands to stitch on people.

Be yourself. Love yourself.

All content and subject of this site is copyright of Olivia Mistelle Maxell

Rearview Mirror's Influence

Oliviamaxell@live.com (Olivia Mistelle Mistelle) — 2010-03-31T17:03:00Z

Rearview Mirror's Influence

Written by Olivia Mistelle Maxell 2009 posted Mar 31, 2010

Looking back I see I’ve lived the

life of a very selfish child.

Entitlement has bordered my ego,

bound by books I protected in

shelves to draw assumptions of

intelligence to defer from my 'less than'.

Conclusions surface through uneasy

sounds of this house:

First memory of insecurity when I

realized I wasn’t a boy;

first time I looked past my own nose

to see most of my wounds were

self-inflicted with no regard for the pain

it bestowed on my relation’s unconditional

obligation—and no respect to myself.

Let me stretch the tears back

before they became excuses;

connected like dots to paint a picture

of the very first moment I gave up:

The molding of a painted

grin victim who trips over circumstance’s

practical jokes by rationalizing a whiners

riddle.

My voice morphing into an appendage

of familiar deflective accents as it bellows

the mantra I silently scream on a tear

soaked stage;

performing for a faceless

crowd of aches and pains.

The wet spot still damp; the residue still

sticky on my skin—No good covers the

penetration of an evil mind, busting first

times with a poisonous thrust of a

forever shame.

No soap tough enough to wash the memories

from my dry cracked compulsive hands.

No mirror strong enough to capture each

still image in rolling frames of instances;

squaring the hazy pupil of worn out smiles.

I’ve made this my life without realizing it.

The repercussions of one simple act has lead

me into a whirlwind of an obsessive need to

numb away the bad…leaving me killing off

my good in order to achieve this goal.

Peeling back the onion of my truth waters

my eyes as it reveals my wasting of life by

executing all my potential with toxic

solutions.

The inward ladder to forgive myself brings

me to the core of forgiving the unforgivable

with no name.

I’m sorry to the selfish child I am, that never

grew past this obstruction and the protecting

defenses which nourished its option to

not evolve in trying on new aspects of colors

of character.

In remorse to my heart that hung in the closet

of pronouns next to the love I had for

unpainted masks of so many nameless

identities with invisible genders.

I lay to rest the misplaced anger that I

passed around in an over opinionated blanket

of a passionate desire to insure the belief

I’m not wrong, because in essence

I’ve never felt just right.

My day’s resolution is to learn the art of

admitting when I’m wrong without

resurrecting an excuse to justify the overload

of insecurity.

My life’s publication will reflect a moment

when I emerge from this sheltered excuse to

encourage the sparks inside to flicker bright;

exposing the good I lack the ability to tell

myself I have;
to open up the chance to

see the trail of scars along my skin that

lead to every insurmountable quake I endured;

to stop the running away in

leaps and bounds, as my life passes me by;

to collect my ambivalence and not trust in

the melting of my father’s lies.

To station myself in the belief that I am

fine no matter the outcome; no matter the

sin; no matter the error.

To release the burden of self loathing to

forgive myself in order to truly appreciate

the sensations I create.

To give myself a chance to be more than this—

To move past this—

To go forward—

without a rearview mirror’s influence.

All content and subject of this site is copyright of Olivia Mistelle Maxell

Back on the Train

Oliviamaxell@live.com (Olivia Mistelle Mistelle) — 2010-03-21T20:14:00Z

Back on the Train

posted by Olivia Mistelle Maxell March 22, 2010

The creation of Falling From Trains came after being told my general opinion and views needed to be elaborated on a more “acceptable” forum rather than Facebook, Myspace or Twitter. I still don’t agree with the general consensus concerning which of the three forums are appropriate and which isn’t considering they're mediums which we're encouraged to express our individuality. (or in some cases, lack thereof) The particular situation in question which gave me the opportunity to create an alternative venue to publish my manifestation of thought about life, politics, entertainment, and religion came as a result of my arrogance.

I basically pushed my opinion on another’s Facebook status concerning my unease with his belief God will cure cancer one day. More so I was upset with the presented rationalization that until this miracle comes to pass, all the ones who will and have died from cancer are just casualties of God’s Will or ‘big plan’. I should have let the comment go because it wasn’t appropriate given the circumstance of the individual’s mom passing away from breast cancer. It was just a statement he put on his wall about his hope for a cure. My extreme ego felt the need to question this person’s religious beliefs and I think in hindsight my rebuttal was a result of some old misplaced anger. Afterward, I was given the advice to create my own space to center my opinions. Thus: Falling From Trains was born.

The site wasn’t about becoming famous in the blog world but was just looking to find others like me. I never really felt a belonging in any group I’ve stumbled upon. I knew there had to be others that identified with this since of isolation of sorts.

Examples: A) I’m fluid in my sexuality and a large number of lesbians and straights have their own prejudices concerning bisexuality. I just think of it as being open to the possibility of love no matter the gender. B ) I believe in a higher power (maybe), but never was able to fit in with religion and trust me I tried. C) I have more liberal political views but find myself being more independent as of late.

So, you can see I’m literally the ugly duckling I wrote about in, The Ugly Duckling Syndrome; migrating from group to group trying to find my home.

Along with Trains, I began writing for another site and finally had a platform to be myself. (or so I thought) I went off on extreme liberal rants about republicans, religion, and the ‘evil conservative right-wing extremist agenda,’ and felt a sense of release that all the frustration for the state of the world was put into cyberspace for others to read.

Then my brother had to go and fuck it all up!

He sent me a message via Facebook with a subject line which read, “Starting to worry about you kid.” He went on to compare my writing to the likes of ‘right-winged extremist with a different agenda.' What?! I thought. I’m fighting for what’s right and I’m nothing like those extreme-right wing nutsacks! How dare he compare me to them! I was offended and deflated. I relish my big brother’s opinion because I’ve always looked up to him, plus he’s a highly intelligent man.

He was right and I acted defensive and patronizing in my response. He wasn’t gentle in his observation so it stung somewhat, but I put away all that to discover the underlying point he was trying to make.

I stepped back and took a good look at myself. Fortunately, my blinders opened and I saw no difference in my extreme measures of delivering my opinions as compared the methods extremist of any kind use in their push for a cause. I didn’t objectively look at the situation but just always slanted toward the left because it what’s to be expected of me as a sexual liberal, right?

Ugh...no.

What the fuck had I become? What did I truly believe and did I have the courage to challenge what I always perceived as ‘right’? Was I ready to think for myself and face the consequences of not fitting in with my fellow liberals? Was I going to be able to release myself from the noose of conformity and breathe in free thought no matter what political or personal line it may cross for some? Was I prepared to step outside the extremity lines of the ‘us vs. them’ war of words and revive my individuality and think for myself?

Yes. I had no choice but pack my bags and jump off this particular train of thought into a more vast scope of objectivity.

After realizing I couldn’t face the consequence of not pursuing my own point-of-views I changed the tone of Trains and made the decision to write in a less bias manner of sorts but still stick to my style and evolving opinions…no matter who it offended.

Even if it meant pissing off those I once advocated so fiercely against and alongside.

I love them!

Now, I still write with fire when necessary, and I will not contribute my writing to any site I feel will mutilate my words and judge and throw false accusations towards others whose opinions do not mirror their own. I don’t agree with prejudice and any injustice against a group of individuals or laws that strip civil liberties in the name of God and religion. But now, I try to be objective and gather both sides with all facts instead of blindly throwing my metaphorical punches around.

So, I’m back on the Train. We’ll see where it takes me this time and what lesson the next fall will teach.

Thanks for reading!

All content and subject of this site is copyright of Olivia Mistelle Maxell

Redneck/Roughneck Barbecue Etiquette

Oliviamaxell@live.com (Olivia Mistelle Mistelle) — 2010-03-09T02:39:00Z

Some might say I’m from the South, but I say I’m from Oilfield country. I was raised around a lot of cowboys and rednecks. Where I’m from, rednecks generally are roughnecks, because oil and football goes hand in hand in my hometown. This varies from place to place depending on what resources each have.

Now, roughnecks are oilfield hands and though some may not be very book smart—they make damn good money risking their lives everyday on a rig. If you marry a redneck, you are, by default a redneck yourself and will have little child-RENs running around with bright red necks. Now, my mom married a redneck/roughneck after I was born so by default I got some traditional behaviors but it’s not in my blood line. I’m a mix of all kinds of desirable concoctions and some less than desirables brews. I come from cowboys, Frenchmen and IRS tax agents.

Now, I was raised about 100 miles west of Midland TX in a little town called Lovington. Yes, the same Midland Texas our former good-ol’-boy George W. Bush called home for many years. I wasn’t born in this tiny desolate town, but came into this world through my mom’s vagina in a little hospital in Utah. (No—I’m not a Mormon). As a child, we moved around a lot, but always went back to that small dogmatic town resting inside the southeast corner of New Mexico and about 20 minutes away from the Texas perimeters.

So, you ask, “What does Lovington have to offer?” Well, a career in oil and dairy cows is not a bad way to make a living in Lea County. Actually, it’s pretty much the only way. Now, most of the residents in Lovington believe in Jesus and has a vast scope of dominations and churches. High School football follows Jesus and the Wildcat is the town’s second messiah. Now, this town’s not all bad, but it’s not all good either. It has its fair share of corrupt law enforcement, guns, domestic beer, dirt weed and a high teenage pregnancy rate. Some living there might find a few of those to be assets not problems. I don’t own a gun but I haven’t stopped lookin’ for one yet, either. It’s in my nature to desire shooting a gun. (Not at animals) Thursday Tejano night at the Inn is a big deal and on many occasions will result in a bar fight and (a lot of the time) drug deals gone, well…good.

It’s not secret Lovington has a large number of crystal meth/cocaine addicts. Sadly, it’s a growing trend in rural areas in between the bigger cities. Lovington can be really dull and stagnant so kids end up doing drugs and fucking—in that order. Then they grow up to be parents who do drugs—not in that order. Drugs are an addicts first priority and everything else comes last.

Lets us accentuate the positive and point out Lovington has produced seven world champion calf and team ropers, and most notably the famous Chicago Bear, Brian Urlacher, as well.

Anybody living or passing through Lovington’s city limits knows how proud the town is of Brian. They have a monstrous size mural of Urlacher painted on the side of the old abandoned Gibson’s store building. You can’t avoid noticing this tribute as you drive into the town. He was the football jock that farted extremely loud in class and blamed it on less popular unsuspecting individuals. Yes, yours truly was one of those less popular unsuspecting nerds in Jr. High and some of High School. At one time I was good friends with Brian; then he became popular overnight and left his out-of-favor friends behind. I’ll be honest; it took me awhile to be happy for him and his success. I got tired of being resentful and put that burden down and moved on to wish him nothing but the best.

Okay, back to my point: What else, besides the great/bad qualities I mentioned does Lovington have to offer? The answer: REDNECK/ROUGHNECK BARBEQUE’S! That’s right—beer guzzling, shitty dirt weed, pit bull on a thick chain (if you’re lucky), crispy skinned chicken legs, hamburgers, potato salad/beans and hot dogs burning on a small charcoal grill cookout!

Throughout my on and off again living arrangements in Lovington, I attended many redneck barbeques throughout the course of my adolescents and young adulthood. For those of you that have never had the pleasure of attending one of these great “special” events, I’m gonna break it down for all of you.

Oh, you'll only find a house like this on the outskirts of LVT
(funny though)

First you’ll arrive to either a house with weeds as grass and blankets as curtains. Or for some it may be a trailer house with rusted aluminum siding and at least one cracked window with duct tape holding it together. You’ll have to park on a dirt road somewhere in between all the trucks with big tires and rebel flag décor on the license plates with “piss on Ford” stickers next the gun rack in the back window. You’ll either hear Lynard Skynard’s, ‘Free Bird’ or ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ blaring from inside of the house.

It’s usually so loud that that the ones smoking weed in the back have to scream at each other during a rather stoned and ‘enlightened’ conversation.

Good ol' trusting Jimmy Joe

Now, Rednecks usually smoke weed inside the house but are too paranoid at the beginning of a cookout. Mainly because they’re not drunk enough to worry about Jimmy Joe bringing over a sneaky snitch because he’s slow and trusts anyone that has a bag of weed— including undercover narcotic officers.

There’s no need to knock on the front door. Nobody will hear you over the cheap stereo with busted speakers and no bass that sounds as though Johnny Van Zant has the microphone right up to his tonsils.

This is when you reluctantly walk around to the backyard hoping the pit bull (because there will be one) is tied up with a very thick SHORT metal chain. You push the gate back as far as it will go before it gets caught up in tree size weeds blocking the path. You will then have to climb over the weeds and creep into the backyard. This is when you will notice a circle of guys standing around the grill. They all will have a beer and cigarette in the same hand while passing either a pipe or joint with the other. This will be around the time your presence is noticed and the pit bull begins snarling while dispersing lots of dog spit that hangs from its jaws.

REDNECK/ROUCHNECK BARBEQUE TIP 1:
If there is no thick chain on the pit bull—don’t run! Be patient and stand very still until you are placed. Otherwise you will only provoke the dog and your mauling will become a source of entertainment.

Usually whoever has the joint will desperately hold his hit in while hiding the joint behind his back trying to determine if you’re cool or not. He’ll spend the next ten minutes hacking his brains out and If he doesn’t know you then you better hope someone around him does. If you’re found to be ‘cool’ you can join the circle. It’s important to make sure and take a hit to show just how “cool” you really are. If you don’t smoke weed then save your ass by telling them you’re on parole and have a piss test the next day and they might let you slide but you still will be treated like a narc.

REDNECK/ROUCHNECK BARBEQUE TIP 2:
Watch out for the children. They can be mean little dysfunctional fuckers. Usually, you’ll spot them teasing the dog by throwing flaming Black Jacks or bottle rockets at its head. Watch your ass because they will steal your cigarettes or wallet.

REDNECK/ROUCHNECK BARBEQUE TIP 3:
Sometimes when the fire goes out (yes there will be a fire) and the wood is gone, rednecks/roughnecks get drunkenly creative. Don’t laugh when they leave and come back with a very large tree dragging behind their truck (roots and all) because it will piss them off. Folks, I’ve seen it happen first hand and not making this shit up! We sat on one end of the tree while it burned from the other end.

It’s important to be aware of my tips and etiquette of a redneck barbeque if ever find yourself midst of one. Trust me certain things do not fly at hillbilly social events. If you do not heed my warnings it could cause a lot of, “you better not be hittin’ on my ol’ man,” confrontations. You must learn the basics and follow the rules.

First: Everybody is suspicious of everybody else at a redneck barbeque. Someone is either not breaking down with their coke stash; another person’s bag of weed is missing or someone is fucking another persons husband/wife. I’ve been at both ends of that latter part of that warning and it wasn’t pretty. I ran into a husband and a wife I had sex with (on different occasions) and I left quickly.

Always note, toward the end of the night there will be drama. An old argument from the past will come up in a drunken conversation between Billy and Tiny Joe which later will make amends by one or the breaking down with their stash.

Secondly, a cat fight will happen between two middle-aged females with names like Tammy Jo and a Barbra. Why? Most likely because Barbra consoled Tammy Jo’s ol’ man (she gave him a blow job in his truck in the parking lot of a local bar) while his marriage was going through a rough patch. This is when the red chipped nail polished claws come out and a hair starts being pulled; flying about inside a dirt cloud.

Sadly, it’s not erotic as you’d hope. Both are wearing very short daisy dukes with old shirts from their ol’ mans closet they cut into half shirts with no sleeves. They’ll have a red burn tan on their arms (up to were the sleeve’s been cut) but everything else is ass white. Now, both will have two handful of kiddos between them and it has taken quite a toll on their bodies.

Beware: During these fights legs will twist in all kinds of un-aesthetically pleasing directions. You will unwilling observe both have neglected to maintain their hairy pussies for many years— and are obviously not wearing any panties.

REDNECK/ROUCHNECK BARBEQUE TIP 4:
During the fight, do not taunt the angry pussy because it will have teeth and bites! Trust me on this. I was once a drunken fool that dared to get close enough to point my finger five inches away from an angry bearded vagina, while saying, “Dude, check out that hairy vagina.” It gave a growl and snapped at me.

After both females are finally split apart all of the remaining drunks will itch to get invited to the back room to do a line of whatever stimulant is being offered. Most need it because they are too drunk to function. Be careful because there’s a lot of ass kissing around this time mixed in with paranoia. Most will be pacing as they wait on Tommy to get back with the bootleg liquor and Billy to return with more drugs and or their money.

It’s sad, because several days later you will run into Billy or Tommy at an Allsup’s convenience store looking disheveled buying beer and cigarettes. Both twisted off to go on a week long coke/speed bender; the party never stopping until the money from their last paycheck has gone up their nose or in their arm.

Oddly, as much as I hated going to those redneck barbeques and all the dysfunctional drama they embodied I find myself missing them from time to time. I don’t miss the drugs in the slightest and glad I don’t find myself in the position of seeming ‘cool’ any longer. As I grow older I’d like to attend more ‘King of the Hill’ like barbeques that bring good-hearted people together over food with a simple ‘hometown’ atmosphere; void of pretentious assholes that base their values on trends and labels.

I may seem as though I’m making fun of the people of Lovington and I will tell you what…I am. But I’m making fun of myself as well; because it’s the place I spent most of my life. It’s apart of me. I have many wonderful friends I love dearly from that area. Not all the law enforcement is corrupt, but by-the-book and hard working. Not all my memories are bad but warm and kind. Some living in Lea County are conservative bigots but some are giving and accepting to those less fortunate or different from themselves.

So Lovington: A place you can go to feel relieved about leaving but happy to spend a minute to reminisce. And until it crumbles into a big oilfield ditch, it will always be a place for the best Redneck/Roughneck Barbeques on this here earth...I'll tell you what...

Thanks for reading.

All content and subject of this site is copyright of Olivia Mistelle Maxell

In Pursuit of 'Time'

Oliviamaxell@live.com (Olivia Mistelle Mistelle) — 2010-03-02T20:25:00Z

In Life and News Commentary

"A female soldier in Iraq is more likely to be raped by a fellow soldier than killed by enemy fire."

The 2010 Mar 8 edition of Time magazine has an essay, The War Within, by Nancy Gibbs, addressing the growing number of American female soldiers sexually assaulted by fellow comrades deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan.

A good friend brought this essay to my attention and as I listened to her read it to me over the phone a sense of urgency flooded over me. I needed to get in my car and drive to Hastings and have those words in my hands—immediately. Now, the story of the events leading up to me getting a copy of this essay, are not as important of its subject matter, but almost as interesting in it’s on way.

As I hung up the phone I could still hear her reading, “the Pentagon estimates that 80% to 90% of sexual assaults go unreported. Victims stay silent because of the belief nothing would be done; fear of ostracism, harassment, or ridicule or demotion.”

This is typical, I thought as I brushed my teeth. What surprised me most was that I wasn’t shocked to hear of how the soldiers protecting us are not being protected from unbalanced younger recruits in their units.

I wiped the toothpaste from my mouth and scooped up my little crazy dog, Einstein and rather than put him in his cage, I opted to just tie him up by his food/water supply in the kitchen. (which later on proved to be a bad idea because he got loose and terrorized the house) I gave him some toys and told him I’d be back shortly after I picked up Levi from school. I grabbed my bag, keys, and water then headed out the door.

I started the engine to my cock-blocker (2000 Chevy Lumina Sudan) and turned off the radio. I leaned back in my seat and looked out the passenger window toward my house. Silence is rape’s best companion, I thought as I sat there in my own stillness. I was quiet way too long about my own sexual abuse; mirroring the same reasons of ostracism, ridicule, no one believing me, and demotion in the eyes of family. My mother still hasn’t spoken to me in three weeks after calling me ‘crazy’ and a ‘liar’ referring to my own admission of being sexual abused by someone she respected and feared most of her life. We live in the same house but miles apart.

My friend’s voice began reading to me again as I drove down the freeway, “The sense of betrayal runs deep in victims who joined the military to be part of a loyal team pursuing a larger cause; experts liken the trauma to incest and the particular damage done when assault is inflicted by a member of the military "family." Women are often denied claims for posttraumatic stress caused by the assault if they did not bring charges at the time.”

The words: Betrayal, family and trauma kept repeating in my head as I pulled into the McDonald’s in front of Hastings to grab a $.99 cup-o-sweet tea. After going in and placing my order I gave the cashier a handful of change, grabbed my not-so-biodegradable cup and went to the soda fountain to get ice. As the ice fell rapidly into my cup, a pungent smell of human feces slowly started consuming the air around me. I looked around to find the source of the smell and made out what appeared to be a disheveled homeless woman pouring coffee next to me by the tea canisters.

I have a very strong empathy for those living their lives homeless since I heard that Phil Collin’s song, Another Day in Paradise, as a child. Now, as a parent, when I see a homeless individual, I wonder whose child they are—and give them any change I have to spare. As I would hope someone would do for my child if he, god forbid, ever finds himself living on the streets without a name or home.

Seeing this woman carefully holding the steaming cup of coffee in her hand as she walked away my friends voice was back reading Gibbs words, “Female vets are four times more likely to be homeless than male vets are, according to the Service Women's Action Network, and of those, 40% report being victims of sexual assault.”

I always wonder how the homeless become homeless and maybe this statistic helps answer the cause for some.

I got in my car and drove a little ways down to the Hastings parking lot. As I went in and raced toward the magazine section I overheard a man raising his voice inside the coffee shop next to the check out lanes. This wasn’t too unusual, considering many care givers of the mentally ill take them in groups to Hastings so they can look at books and have coffee. Well, the guy raising his voice ended up having a full-blown ‘episode’ which escalated into physical assaults on other customers and the staff. Seems he threw a movie at the cashier and hit a customer over the head with a magazine. I was going to be late picking Levi up, so I stopped watching the ‘episode’ and carried on with my mission in finding this weeks issue of Time. I wasn’t alone. There was an elderly man ignoring the drama to continue gawking at his “Biker Babes” Special Edition issue. Needless to say, of all the thousands of magazines Hastings carries…they do not have Time in stock unless it’s a special $20 issue.

I walked toward the exit door to see they had locked the troubled man out of the store and blocked the costumers inside from leaving. The guy was so angry he was banging the glass doors screaming, “Let me back in!” Then a mother had to console her toddler because he got really frightened and began crying as loud as crazy dude making all the scary noises. The employees were all on their cell phones calling the police while the woman who got hit in the head with a magazine started threatening to press charges.

Again, I heard my good friend’s voice reading to me: “Women are often denied claims for post-traumatic stress caused by the assault if they did not bring charges at the time. There are not nearly enough mental-health professionals in the system to help them.”

This made me curious about the man and his ‘episode.’ What was this guy’s diagnosis? I mean, he didn’t seem to be bipolar and I ruled out schizophrenia because he wasn’t mentioning anything like, “they’re telling me to do this!” or “I talked to God and told me you all suck!” And my bigger question was why were the employees taking this so personally? They were arguing with this man like he was just another angry customer that had problem with their service. They acted completely offended instead of realizing he has an obvious mental defect that apparently discriminates against everyone in general.

There was no tolerance or compassion for this man’s noticeable mental anguish as there is any rarely shown for victims of rape in the armed services. Only 8% of the rape cases investigated by the military end in prosecution and 80% of those convicted are just honorably discharged.

The man was eventually restrained and we were able to leave the store. I could still hear him screaming, “Stop! Please, let me go!” as I drove off as the familiar cries of my voice echoed in my head— pleading those same words as child. I ended up at Barnes and Noble, where I easily found my own copy of the time issue and began flipping through the pages to read it as soon as I got in the car. I lite a cigarette and exhaled as I heard my own voice begin to read:

“What does it tell us that a female soldier deployed overseas stop drinking water after 7 p.m. to reduce the odds of being rapped if they use the bathroom at night? Or the solider who was assaulted when she went out for a cigarette and was afraid to report it for fear she would be demoted—for having gone out without her weapon?”

Women represent nearly 15% of our armed forces and they are most likely to be raped than killed by enemy fire. Doesn’t that astonish you, that they fear sleeping around their fellow soldier’s more than they do being killed in combat in IRAQ?!

I thought to myself, Can you blame these women for not speaking up? I mean, there’s a war out there ladies and gentleman and who has time to deal with a woman getting raped when there’s a war going on around it? Is it taken seriously? No, it’s not because war crimes are just collateral damage as are the victims. Women have and still are used as weapons of war in many parts of the world and the American government can not righteously speak out against these acts when we have our own military personnel sexually assaulting our women in uniform.

The lack of effort to help stop the silence and do something about this situation is justified by the military’s mentality of ‘they can’t do anything if nothing is reported.” Have they ever considered this way of dealing with the problem is enforcing silence about the issue? This kind of rationalization reminds me of when my Grandpa told me at the age of 8, that “a woman can not be raped because she can move a little and it will slip right on out.”

If the act doesn’t exist—then how can it be stopped? And how can we be survivors of rape and thrive if we are never given the chance to break the silence and be acknowledged?

As those thoughts swam through my mind, I drove off to pick up my son from school and face the silence in own personal experience at home of being ignored and ostracized.

The crime does exist and ignoring the victims or intimidating them into silence to suppress the problem just makes the ticking of the time bomb that much louder. It’s only a matter of time before the pressure mounts and that unmovable force explodes to expose that unstoppable objectivity of secrecy into little tiny pieces of all its victims.

The crime of rape can’t win no matter the status, rank, or celebrity of who commits it.

All content and subject of this site is copyright of Olivia Mistelle Maxell

If You See Haley Jo

Oliviamaxell@live.com (Olivia Mistelle Mistelle) — 2010-02-11T21:07:00Z

by Olivia Mistelle Maxell

If you happen to see Haley Jo
tell her our Leviticus sin became
a stepping stone, for hours of
seconds to expand throughout
the unknown.

Tell her we had no choice but to stretch
the time far past its unexpected span—
To reach down and pull out frozen
rocks from the Devil’s hand.

Show her the miles that made shadows
of the dead examples we had no choice
but to execute in a room of rusted locks;
keeping our minds wandering within
different painted masks of broken
winged gray flocks.

Show her the graves each divide of our
sanity sleeps below to block out the night.
Take her finger and help her outline the
courage that looms down from the moon’s
unreachable light.

Give her the promise that each day whines
up the flammable struggles we started long
ago, and if she holds on tight, our hearts will
not die from consequence’s blinding fold.

Give her a moment to inhale the sound
from an art of thriving which shakes the
forever rumbling chalice ground.

Let her know: I’m so sorry I couldn’t save her…
I couldn’t even save me.
We got tangled up in the roots of this
crystallized brittle tree—
never knowing a better place to just be.

Teach her to rage the quivering of my crying
hum that rattles the insides of a growing
rhythm planted within a medicated bottle,
keeping branches of my hurt unattached
and numb.

If you see Haley Jo, tell her to warm
herself by the cold flames resting in
between the friction of our harbored ties,
giving our chances a release
from the pulpits ascetic lies.

If you happen see Haley Jo—
tell her Anna says hello…

by Olivia Mistelle Maxell

All content and subject of this site is copyright of Olivia Mistelle Maxell

The Gay Gene-A Moral Question

Oliviamaxell@live.com (Olivia Mistelle Mistelle) — 2010-02-04T07:12:00Z

Recently, I watched an older episode of Law and Order, Special Victims Unit. This particular episode had a couple that went to a doctor who could provide a simple blood test that could determine if their unborn child would have the “gay gene”. So with studies and books coming out about how the combination of both parents’ genes can play a part in whether a child is born gay or straight I figured I dissect the premise of the episodes argument.

Part of the argument is if expecting parents had to option to discover their unborn child had a high percentage of being gay, would most abort and eventually produce a “homosexual genocide?”

On a positive note, it’s a great victory for the gay community to actually have the proof our sexual orientation was no more a choice than the color of our eyes and skin. On the flip side, it gives the public and governments around the world, a choice to completely wipe out the gay population in the not so distance future.

Think about it: what if it wasn’t in our hands as parents to decide whether or not our children were desirable and worthy of being born. What if this decision was in the hands of governments around the world to decide? I honestly think pro-lifers would actually sacrifice their convictions, in order to satisfy their bigotry and comfort levels to support abortion—as long as it is doing away with, that scary evil “gay gene.”

I’m not saying all of them, but I truly believe many individuals of different faith/dominations would easily flip on their self-righteous beliefs to make “exceptions” in their stance against abortion. Possibly to prove to the world, once and for all, that being gay is for worse than, (according to their rhetoric) killing a baby (fetus). Sadly, most pro-life supporters believe this extremist propaganda, and deem the gays a far worse enemy than anything else this world has created. Gays are the less tolerated group of individuals in the world.

Lets think about if one day soon, it could be determined if your unborn child will be a drug addict, mentally ill, handicapped or eventually die of cancer or god forbid be a serial killer. What if the science couldn’t predict how severe the case? What if it just gave a 20%chance?

What if, Heath Ledger’s parents knew he was going to die one day of a drug overdose and decided it would be something too painful to bear and aborted him without knowing he would be a celebrated actor before his death and give them a granddaughter to cherish? What if the government decided that any fetus with the potential of being (what they consider), “defective” didn’t need to be a part of society and ordered the termination of their lives?

Now this is a touchy subject, because it also plays into Roe vs. Wade. Now, I believe in a woman’s right to choose and always have. But is there any difference if a woman wants to terminate her pregnancy because she is either ill, raped, not ready, too young, or because she doesn’t want to have a gay, sick, or addicted child? Caucasian women have aborted for the very reason of being pregnant with part African-American fetuses in the past due to society views and fear of families disowning them—And it was their choice in most cases.

Will the liberal pro-choice supporters and gays be okay with an apparent discrimination toward any fetus and still be back Roe vs Wade? Or maybe, I should be honest and say there should be conditions that apply to abortion. But if conditions apply, more illegal abortions will be preformed and more deaths will be a result. So, I say, if it’s the woman’s choice--then let it be, but lets not let fear, governments or religious bullies determine what is deemed desirable for us.

What could happen is a higher degree of gay bashing and self-loathing. Children born with the gay gene, to conservative parents that did know of their child’s sexual orientation during pregnancy and do not believe in homosexuality or abortion, run a risk of taking their self-hatred out on the very people that they are. Not uncommon of what happens a lot today, but possibly more and more frequent if the option to identify a probable gay gene of a fetus becomes available.

So, my question is: what would you do if you knew your unborn child was going to have a certain percentage of being gay? Would you abort? Would you have the child and create a self loathing in them, and try to “fix” them? Or would you love them unconditionally, and let them be who they are?

I’m glad, that I have the Mom I do, because as much as she thinks I’m “confused” she would never abort me if she knew I was going to be gay/addict/mental. Those things do not define me as an individual. I am so much more than those three small portions of who I am. I’ve done badly, but I’ve done a lot of good as well. Now, if it were up to my father (who abandoned me at the age of 3) if I had lived or died had he known before hand I was going to be a lesbian…I think you wouldn’t be reading me right now, but some other queer that got lucky and lived.

Thanks for reading.

Below is a list of famous gays in histories past and present. You might be surprised.

Alexander the Great

     *Macedonian Ruler, 300 B.C.
Socrates
     *Greek Philosopher, 400 B.C.
Sappho
     *Greek Woman Poet, 600 B.C.
Hadrian
     *Roman Emperor, 1st-2nd c.
Richard the Lionhearted
     *English King, 12th c.
Saladin
     *Sultan of Egypt and Syria
Desiderius Erasmus
     *Dutch Monk, Philosopher
Francis Bacon
     *English statesman, author
Frederick the Great
     *King of Prussia
Lord Byron
     *English poet, 18th c.
Walt Whitman
     *U.S. poet, author, 19th c.
Oscar Wilde
     *Irish author, 19th c.
Marcel Proust
     *French author, 20th c.
Colette
     *French author, 20th c.
Gertrude Stein
     *U.S. poet, author, 20th c.
Alice B. Toklas
     *U.S. author, 20th c.
Federico Garcia Lorca
     *Spanish author, 20th c.
Cole Porter
     *U.S. composer, 20th c.
Virginia Woolf
     *English author, 20th c.
Leonard Bernstein
     *U.S. composer, 20th c.
Pope Julius III
     *1550-1555
T.E. Lawrence
     *English soldier, author, 20th c.
Jean Cocteau
     *French writer, director, 20th c.
Charles Laughton
     *English actor, 20th c.
Marguerite Yourcenar
     *Belgian author, 20th c.
Tennessee Williams
     *U.S. Playwright, 20th c.
James Baldwin
     *U.S. author, 20th c.
Andy Warhol
     *U.S. artist, 20th c.
Michelangelo
     *Italian artist, 15th c.
Leonardo Da Vinci
     *Ital. Artist, scientist, 15th c.
Christopher Marlowe
     *Eng. Playwright, 16th c.
Herman Melville
     *U.S. author, 19th c.
Horatio Alger, Jr.
     *U.S. author, 19th c.
Tchaikovsky
     *Russian composer, 19th c.
Willa Cather
     *U.S. author, 19th c.
Amy Lowell
     *U.S. author, 19th & 20th c.
E.M. Forster
     *English author, 20th c.
John M. Keynes
     *English economist, 20th c.
Ludwig Wittgenstein
     *Australian mathematician, 20th c.
Bessie Smith
     *U.S. singer, 20th c.
Noel Coward
     *English playwright, 20th c.
Christopher Isherwood
     *English author, 20th c.
Pier Paolo Pasolini
     *Italian film director, 20th c.
Yukio Mishima
     *Japanese author, 20th c.
Eleanor Roosevelt
     *U.S. stateswoman, 20th c.
Julius Caesar
     *Roman Emperor, 100-44 B.C.
Augustus Caesar
     *Roman Emperor
Harvey Milk
     *U.S. politician, 20th c.
Bayard Rustin
     *U.S. Civil Rights activist, 20th c.
James I
     *English King, 16th-17th c.
Queen Anne
     *English Queen, 18th c.
Marie Antoinette
     *French Empress, 18th c.
Melissa Etheridge
     *U.S. Rock Star, 20th c.
Pope Benedict IX
     *1032-1044
May Sarton
     *U.S. author, (1912 - 1995)
Edna Ferber
     *U.S. author, 20th c.
Elton John
     *English Rock Star, 20th c.
Margaret Fuller
     *U.S. writer, educator, 20th c.
Montezuma II
     *Aztec ruler, 16th c.
Peter the Great
     *Russian Czar, 17th-18th c.
Langston Hughes
     *U.S. author, 20th c.
Pope John XII
     *955-964
Madame de Stael
     *French writer, 17th-18th c.
Martina Navratilova
     *U.S. tennis star, 20th c.
Greg Louganis
     *U.S. Olympic swimmer, 20th c.
Billie Jean King
     *U.S. tennis star, 20th c.
Roberta Achtenburg
     *U.S. politician, 20th c.
Barney Frank
     *U.S. Congressman, 20th c.
Gerry Studds
     *U.S. Congressman, 20th c.
Hans Christian Andersen
     *Danish author, 19th c.
Tom Dooley
     *U.S. M.D. missionary, 20th c.
J. Edgar Hoover
     *U.S. director of the FBI., 20th c.
Frida Kahlo
     *Mexican artist, 20th c.
Suleiman the Magnificent
     *Ottoman ruler, 15th c.
Rock Hudson
     *U.S. actor, 20th c.
Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
     *Mexican author, 16th c.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
     *U.S. author, 19th c.
Candace Gingrich
     *Gay Rights activist, 20th c.
Margarethe Cammermeyer
     *U.S. Army Colonel, 20th c.
Zoe Dunning
     *U.S. Military Reservist, 20th c.
Tom Waddel
     *U.S. M.D., Olympic star, 20th c.
Kate Millet
     *U.S. author, 20th c.
Janis Joplin
     *U.S. singer, 20th c.
Rudolf Nuryev
     *Russian dancer, 20th c.
Waslaw Nijinsky
     *Russian dancer, 20th c.
Ernst Röhm
     *German Nazi leader, 20th c.
Dag Hammerskjold
     *Swedish UN Secretary, 209th c.
Aristotle
     *Greek philosopher, 384-322 B.C.
Paula Gunn Allen
     *Native American author, 20th c.
Angela Davis
     *U.S. political activist, 20th c.
June Jordan
     *U.S. author, activist, 20th c.
Rainer Maria Rilke
     *German poet, 20th c.
James Dean
     *U.S. actor, 20th c.
Montgomery Clift
     *U.S. actor, 20th c.
Baron VonSteuben
     *German General, Valley Forge
Edward II
     *English King, 14th c.

All content and subject of this site is copyright of Olivia Mistelle Maxell