Tax dollars…?

Just a quick thought here tonight:

I was thinking just yesterday, after I purchased my feminine hygiene products at the store, how I paid the standard 8.25% sales tax for Texas on the items.

I wondered briefly at how certain items (e.g. raw food items) are tax-free, and began to ask why feminine hygiene products weren’t tax-free.

And then it occurred to me that they needn’t be tax-free, because they are, in fact something people purchase, which is the whole point of sales tax, after all.

Therefore, since women can’t exactly avoid being women, which includes menstruation, and it is not acceptable by any means to walk around dropping blood all over the place in public, and women therefore need some sort of feminine hygiene items, would it not make sense that women have an ever so slightly higher vote as to what to do with those tax dollars they are paying?

There doesn’t seem to be anything that comes to mind for me that men have as necessity, at least that doesn’t balance out with a similar version for women (e.g. shaving)…, so the whole menstruation thing seems to stand alone with these extra tax dollars paid by women.

(For that matter, I guess pregnancy falls into it, too, but it can be avoided naturally and easily, whereas menstruation can’t, so it is kind of different… however, when the government wants the population to grow, it makes sense to have financial incentives [which, I think, are kind of in place here, but nowhere near the degree of other countries with their children-having people’s financial situations].)

Therefore, women ought to have a little extra sway in voting on how that money gets used by the government.

I know that isn’t really at all how things go, and I fully admit many flaws with the idea, but, in terms of sales tax alone, isn’t it a bit funny how this actually makes a tiny bit of sense, after all, despite how silly it is? ๐Ÿ˜›

Just a fun thought I had yesterday and today – hope you enjoy it!

Post-a-day 2019

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Speedboats and slow thoughts

I might have shared about this already, but I’ll share it again, because it’s on my mind…

I was thinking tonight about this boat thing.

(Well, actually, I was thinking about Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and how I’m looking at reading it with a friend, so we can talk about it, but that this time I might do well to make a list of reasons why it’s good that I didn’t live in Pride and Prejudice times.

You see, I usually get lost happily in the story, such that I am sad when I finish it and just return to real life… it only ever takes me a couple or few days to read, because I end up doing little else once I start reading it.

And so, at the end of it all, I am covered with a sort of depressive feeling of my life being inadequate and/or uninteresting and I likely to be anything wonderful compared to the world of which I’d just been dreaming in Jane Austen’s book.

Anyway, so I was thinking about making a list of reasons, right?

I’d thought, ‘Oh, the whole bathing part makes me glad I don’t live there… that’s for sure,’ because I like being clean, and clean didn’t seem to be so precise a thing in those days, and smelly was all too common…

‘But then,’ I thought, ‘I couldn’t have ridden on speed boats or gone water skiing…, though I could have ridden on big boats between countries… like the Titanic!… only not the Titanic, because that was terrible, and, besides, it was much later in time, anyway…’

And that was then I thought of tonight’s topic renewal!)

Sophie Kinsella has a book where the main character has amnesia… when she watches her wedding and honeymoon DVD to help jog her memory, she sees herself beside her husband, who happens to be driving a speedboat.

She is absolutely delighted by the fact that her husband can drive a speedboat(!), and brings it up in her mind somewhat regularly, partly as a reminder that it it worth staying with him, despite the fact that she doesn’t remember him or seem to have a connection with him, and partly just as an adorable and silly reminder of how amazing her life has become (since she can last remember it), because, goodness, a man must be amazing if he can drive a speedboat(!), and it is even more amazing to be married to such a man.

Totally silly, I know, but that in no way changes the fact that I love it every time I think of it.

The main character does such a good job of convincing the reader of her belief in the fact that her husband’s skill is spectacular, that I found myself even thinking how amazing it would be, even dating someone who knows how to drive a speedboat.

‘Wow!’ I would think, ‘What could that be like, knowing, let alone dating or marrying, such a person?’

And this thinking continued for rather some time – even a couple or few years, I dare say – before something absolutely absurd hit me.

Growing up, two of my grandparents lived in a private community of lakes a ways North of Houston.

It would take us about two hours, door to door.

My uncle kept a ski boat there.

And we grew up kneeboarding and water skiing.

The damn broke terribly when I was supposed to start to learn to ski, but I eventually had the opportunity, when the damn and lake were restored.

And so, for the last couple years my grandparents lived there, I was the only child living at home, and so the only one who went to visit with my dad whenever he went up (the other went, too, but nowhere near as often).

My dad, therefore, taught me just about everything needed in terms of caring for and using the boat.

The ski boat… a speedboat…

Meaning, of course, that I not only know my dad as someone who can drive a speedboat, but that…, well,… I know… myself… you see…

Yeah… not too sure how I missed that one… for years.

๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

Not so impossible after all, to find someone who can drive a speedboat. ๐Ÿ˜›

Post-a-day 2019

โ€™Sโ€™wonderful (!)

Starlight, start bright

All you stars I don’t see tonight,

Take this wish I wish tonight –

I wish I may, I wish I might…

Have another day tomorrow that is as wonderful (or more) as today has been.

Thank you for the love, Universe, etc.

I might not be at par on the whole adulting thing, but I’m delighted with where I am on the whole pursuing passions and being self-expressed ones. (!!!)

โค

P.S. A selfie with the tubby guy at my internship

Post-a-day 2019

How You doinโ€™?

How am I doing, she asks?

Iโ€™m doing okay, I think. Dealing with a school mental struggle of being tired of it and not wanting to do semi-pointless work (i.e. work that serves no value whatsoever in why I am getting the degree). I got sick, too, and so that aligned interestingly perfectly with the assignments, and so they are excused from being late. I still donโ€™t want to do them, though. Life has become so interesting outside of school recently, it makes me want to take a big break from school, possibly permanently. But mostly because โ€˜I donโ€™t Feel like it(!)โ€™, and Iโ€™m not sure if it really has anything else behind it. Laziness might just be all there is in the matter, ultimately. :/

That’s the just bulk of my daylight hours… evenings and nights are a whole ‘nother conundrum these days. ๐Ÿ˜›

How are you doing?

Post-a-day 2019

Tantalizing Fantasizing

At this one school where I worked, it wasn’t that I felt unappreciated, because I didn’t…, but more that I felt unnoticed…, which, in a way, feels kind of way worse.

I remember finding myself fantasizing about receiving this particular award at the end of the school year – it was an award given to a teacher whom the senior class had elected as invaluable for their own educations… aka an extra-special teacher.

Since the students elected it, I had a chance of actually winning the award, though I had so few of the seniors, it wouldn’t happen, anyway.

Nonetheless, as I sat amongst the miniature version of the band during the senior awards ceremony, at which this teacher award also was awarded, I would ‘read aloud’ in my head the write-up they would give about me, before officially revealing my name… mentioning how I was involved in many areas of the school: dance PE class, teaching foreign language, helping with theatre on many levels, assistant coaching and co-founding the women’s lacrosse program, helping and participating in band events, actually playing trumpet in the band (including at this ceremony), founding of an acts of kindness group on campus, and much more in the unique realm of student interaction… and the kids would choose me for the award, because they acknowledged my utter awesome-ness and outstanding-ness as not only a person but a person who encourages and empowers them to be the best people they can be… I think no student who has known me would deny that fact.

My students know that I love them and that I want all the best for them, including if that means they need to suffer a bit to get themselves straightened out… they know and understand this all just from being with me in class or the various activities.

I take no nonsense, which they know, too, but my love and concern for them are unwavering and undeniable, and they know it.

I miss that.

And that is why I allowed myself to fantasize about receiving the award – if enough kids had known me, I could have won the award… if the administration ever would have allowed my winning it, of course. ๐Ÿ˜›

Anyway… yeah.

P.S. Tomorrow holds something new for me, in a sense…, if you feel up to it, I would appreciate your sending good intentions and/or prayers my way. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Post-a-day 2019

Evening Rest

Pressure, pressure, pressure

Pushing from the inside, pulling from the out-

side

My head turning every which way, wondering where to take me,

where to head

head-on

And then I curl up after my shower, just letting it all go,

including the gas,

and I feel intensely improved,

almost great

Now just ready for bed, to rest my head

before I consider more intently what my next steps will be,

where I next shall leap

full-on, head-on, full power

of me propelling the energy around me, like magnets at work in this swirling world of life and such

Post-a-day 2019

Phone crush!

Are we allowed to crush on people we meet over the phone?… on a help line?…is that a thing?

Certainly not, but that’s okay – I have a mini crush anyway.

I think it was his chuckles that got me… we were talking about how somebody messed up delivering a package, and yet somehow we both ended up chuckling a lot during our 14-minute phone call… that and his real warmness every time he said my name, calling me “Miss Hannah” in an uplifting way (as opposed to the near disrespectful and demeaning version I have heard on many a helpline).

I just got off from a phone conversation with an adorable Bradley, who happens to be living in the future (by eight hours) in Cape Town, South Africa.

Sometimes, the whole outsourcing of help lines is terrible, and nothing seems to work out, due to language and culture barriers, combined with a terrible phone connection, or something else absurd.

And sometimes, it works out wonderfully – I’ve already had one of my absurd fairy-tale-like stories play out in my head, where adorable, chuckling Bradley in South Africa and I end up meeting in real life and becoming besties or something – maybe even marrying…. ‘How did you two meet?’ ‘Well, it was an outsourced help line phone call that brought us together… Hannah called, and Bradley answered… and it turned into true life, half the world apart.’

๐Ÿ˜› hashtag guffaw ๐Ÿ˜›

It is things like this that make me feel confident in my ability to produce absurd and entertaining stories that nod to Sophie Kinsella books – silly and goofy and crazy things already go down in my life, and then my mind takes them, in a mere moment, to a whole ‘nother level… truly.

What’s really fun to me about it all is the fact that I had called in to the hotline already, but the person had somehow messed up the call, or something, and had just disappeared… so Bradley was my second call in to the hotline.

Boy am I glad my call was messed up the first time. ๐Ÿ˜›

I really do love my life, and I am grateful for it, with all of my being.

๐Ÿ™‚

Post-a-day 2019