Quarantine Begins in Earnest

Dear World,

Up until today, I felt peachy.

I’ve had a little bit of a runny/sneezy nose for a few days, but that’s been normal for me my whole life.

About an hour ago I started feeling slightly weak and a little warm. I took my temperature, which registered 99.5. I usually run cool (96 degrees and change, since I was a kid) so definitely running a bit hot right now. My heart rate is spiking during normal activity, too. Sitting in my chair typing this on my tablet, it hasn’t dropped below 80. Usually it would be more like 60.

Of course I have no way of knowing WHAT I have, but it’s obviously not nothing, so I will be staying home for the foreseeable future.

I’m still going to make masks (they can be bleached); I guess now I get to wear one, too.

I’ve been really careful about what I touch and where I breathe regardless – but man, I’d hate to accidentally bump off someone’s grandma.

 

PPE Shortage Hits Home

Never before in my life have I prayed to God for my labors to be in vain.

That’s what I’m praying for now.

I keep hearing, from people who are plugged into the mainstream media, that more PPE for healthcare workers is on the way – but I’ve been hearing that for days now.

More credibly, I’ve begun hearing through the grapevine from healthcare workers in my community that PPE is running out and being rationed. Boots on the ground are telling me it’s time to start sewing fabric face masks.

I happen to have all of the necessary materials on-hand, so I’m all over it.

I’m praying really hard that I will sew up a big stack of these only to be told “Oh! Sorry! A whole truckload of N95s just rolled up. You did this for nothing.”

None of these people WANT reusable fabric masks. In theory they can work as well in most cases (likely even this one) – but let’s face it; crises do not lend to best practices. I’m not a huge proponent of consumer disposables, but the medical field is EXACTLY where single-use plastics belong.

But I’m going to make fabric masks anyway. Because they’re better than nothing at all – and nothing at all is apparently exactly what some of our men and women on the front lines of this battle have to protect themselves.

May God protect them where we fail.

Mass Depopulation Events

This is something I’ve been thinking about for months, and this pandemic is only throwing fuel on the fires of my contemplation.

The thing is this: every so often, throughout known history, a whole bunch of people have to die.

No matter what sorts of technological or social structures we put in place, this seems to be a hard and inescapable rule.

This is why I’ve never bought into the hype about anthropogenic climate change – it’s pretty obvious to me that when humans reproduce and consume beyond the threshold that is sustainable, SOMETHING WILL HAPPEN that kills a bunch of them off.

War. Famine. Pestilence. Disaster. Disease.

In ages past, people understood this phenomenon in the context of “angry gods” who required large-scale human sacrifice (population control) for their appeasement. Human sacrifice was a way of ensuring that harvests and rains would be sufficient – effectively by way of limiting the population to a number that can sustainably live off of the natural resources available in any given area of settlement.

Today, people STILL understand this phenomenon in the context of angry gods, more or less – rebranded as “nature” and “science” – which require large-scale human sacrifice for the implementation of their “scientific” population-control models which are aimed at mitigating, or avoiding entirely, the natural consequences of unchecked population growth and unchecked resource consumption. The key difference being an overwhelming shift in sacrificial demographics – namely, the shift from conscious (if not necessarily voluntary) sacrifice of the already-born, to the unconscious sacrifice of the unborn.

Something I’ve repeated a million times, grumbling under my breath in response to people who usually look at me like I’m crazy, is that humans seem bent on working on the wrong end of every problem.

This is perhaps one of the most fundamental problems which faces humanity today. Even if you don’t believe in God, the idea of limiting the size of a population by killing new growth in lieu of pruning away that which is closest to death can ONLY have the effect of slowly killing the entire population. The rate of decay exceeds the rate of regeneration.

People seem to have it in their heads that by selectively sacrificing new life, they can somehow halt the decay of old age, and at the same time eliminate or reduce the incidence of mass-depopulation events.

This isn’t a new idea – it’s only a new FORMAT. Prenatal Termination of Life (and, to an extent, all contraception technology) is the latest trend in human sacrifice.

And it does. not. work.

It undermines the adaptive mechanisms of human biology. Period.

What does NOT undermine the adaptive mechanisms of human biology is for the old, the frail, the terminally ill, etc. to die and to more or less become fertilizer for future generations.

This is the natural order of things; an order which will continue to dictate the terms of our existence, no matter how hard we try to circumvent the consequences of our own mortality by hastening those of others. It is a losing strategy which leaves us systemically weak, both quantitatively AND qualitatively, in the face of the ultimate consequences of unsustainable behavior and consumption on the society level.

From a “faith” perspective – this sort of pandemic illness is the righteous consequence of the hubris that created the global systems which have allowed it to explode into nearly every population. Big-picture, it’s like a microcosm of the fall of man.

I’m not totally convinced yet that this will be “the big one.” I’m not totally convinced that this virus is not actually ITSELF a deliberately engineered mechanism of population-control-by-involuntary-human-sacrifice. At this point I’m just waiting and watching to see how things shake out.

But at BEST, all I can really say is that “the big one” is still lurking somewhere around the corner.

You can still run… for now. But you can’t hide.

Writing about Writing

Dear World,

The most important thing is that I don’t want anybody to take me too seriously.

Frankly, I might say a lot of things that are wrong.

I’ve come to accept over the years that I am a highly intuitive thinker. This means that I don’t always have an “argument” for everything – and no, I likely CAN’T cite any sources without taking at least a few minutes to hunt one down first. But my intuition has been right a whole lot more often than it’s been wrong, so I’ve learned to roll with it.

My brother said something the other day that really struck a chord with me. Paraphrasing:

“If I say something that is FALSE, it is only because I am TRYING and FAILING to say something that is TRUE.”

I do this a lot. My words don’t always come out right. Or sometimes I “put two and two together” not realizing that one of my twos was actually supposed to be a three.

So you might see me correct myself a lot. I might un-publish entire posts and then re-publish them later with some bits changed or left out or added.

I often become emotional when I write – especially about issues that are near to my heart, or that hit “close to home.”  A natural consequence of this is that I don’t always make my points well. I don’t always represent the truth (or even my limited understanding of it) clearly – even when I am trying earnestly to do so.

On the other hand… sometimes I say things that are patently wrong, for no other reason than to make people THINK. It seems to me that particularly hungry TRUTHS are often effectively baited by little floundering lies.

But I DON’T say things that are false or wrong for the purpose of misleading others. There are a lot of nasty things you could call me that just might be true – but “liar” isn’t one of them. If I’ve lied to anyone since I was a girl – it was only because I lied to myself first.

This “information age” is a very interesting time to be alive, because suddenly anybody and everybody can put on an air of authority and offer counsel to the masses.

I’ve seen a lot of people come under fire for backtracking, redacting, reshaping (and so on and so forth – in other words, changing somehow) the counsel that they offer up. If you backpedal, if you change your opinion, if you start singing a different tune – your “authority” is suspect. People who cling to obvious lies for the sake of seeming steadfast and unchanging are lauded as “consistent.”

Whether you’re more of a “faith” kinda person or more of a “science” kinda person – this is silly.

Faith in a higher power is predicated upon human fallibility.

The entire premise of science insists that we must be willing to reshape the parameters of our understanding when presented with new evidence which challenges those parameters.

To be changeable – to be adaptable – to be malleable in the face of fallibility – is the very basis of mortal existence (and survival), no matter which side of the fence you’re looking over.

I’ll be the first one to tell you that I’m a bit of a hot mess. I have emotional and psychological baggage which prevents me from seeing some things clearly.

Don’t we all?

So here’s how it goes:

In the first place, I don’t claim ANY authority upon which to assert that the words I speak or write are necessarily the objective truth.

Furthermore – I am, above all, angling to discover the truth. Above all, I want the TRUTH.

I’m not putting myself out there as someone who “has truth to give” to other people. All I can offer is a small glimpse into my own personal search for truth.

Kitty

Pardon My French

Dear World,

Never let it be said that I am above clinging to dogmatic and incorrect teachings if they suit me well enough.

My mother taught me as a girl that it would be appropriate to begin swearing when I was able to do so with grace and style. I know there are MANY people who do not think it EVER stylish or graceful for a lady to swear – but here’s the thing:

I am not a goddamned lady. I was born into the peasant class, and here I have been my entire life. So please, kindly, do not mistake me for a woman of high or noble birth as would be subject to such requirements of etiquette. I’ve enjoyed exactly none of the privileges that go along with that gig, so if you want me to play at being one of those girls, you can go eat a whole bag of dicks.

XOXO,

Kitty

Contemplating Mortality

I’ve never been afraid of death. It’s been on my mind since I was quite young. Not that I particularly WANT to die – not until I’m good and old, anyway. But it’s not scary.

The scary thing is realizing that I’ve wasted a lot of my time. The scary thing is realizing that I could have done a lot more by now – if I had made better choices.

This has all been driven home for me recently. In the Summer of 2017 I was bitten by a tick and contracted a form  of Lyme Disease that aggressively attacked my nervous system (neuroborreliosis). I’ve taken several courses of antibiotics since then, but it seems like nothing has killed it entirely yet.

When I first developed symptoms, they were sudden and horrific. Each time they’ve returned (they start creeping in several months after treatment), it’s been milder and more manageable – though it can still be somewhat debilitating for several weeks at a stretch, it’s not as bad as it was.

The next step is likely IV antibiotics – but I’m not quite willing to “go there” just yet. My understanding is that this bacteria is fairly persistent, and may need to be strategically defeated rather than just bombed with antibiotics which will also compromise the balance of other bodily systems. The good news is that it almost never kills people!

… Except by suicide. But I don’t think that will ever be my cup of tea.

Now there’s this whole COVID-19 Pandemic going on. I don’t even know what to think about that. On the one hand, we’re due for a good pandemic. On the other hand – it’s an election year. *shrug* Just saying.

I have no idea if I’d be considered “high risk” for this disease or not. I’ve read and heard and been told by doctors an awful lot that Lyme Disease suppresses the immune system – and I’ve definitely noticed a few little indications of that – things like my hair and nails growing more slowly, cuts and scratches taking longer to heal, easier bruising, stuff like that. But who knows! I’ve been around an awful lot of sick people and not gotten sick in spite of that. I like to think I’d pull through this virus like a champ, were to catch it.

But having been ill for so long already has left me feeling a bit… delicate, shall we say.

I’m a “better safe than sorry” kinda gal anyway – and to be frank with you: I like a good conspiracy theory. So the way it shakes out for me is that I’m buckling up for this to be something pretty big.

My family operates on some pretty tight margins (lol peasants). We can’t jet off to a tropical island or retreat to our home in the rural countryside. So for me, preparedness is all about buying time. Just enough time – to survive and to adapt to whatever it is that life is about to throw our way.

And it really struck me over the last few days, that that’s all I’m really doing, when you boil it down. That’s what life is: buying TIME.

Time for WHAT, though?

That’s the thought that kept running through my mind as I was stocking up over the last couple of weeks.

I’m no stranger to buying in bulk. Fun story about me: when I was 13 years old or so, my mother sent me to the store for “some ketchup.” She gave me five dollars. I walked the half mile or so home from the store toting a paper bag with no fewer than SEVEN bottles of ketchup in it. Because that was a darned good price, and I knew it would get used before it went bad. And I had a $5 ketchup budget. The folks at the local foodservice and wholesale places know me pretty well by now.

Buying enough of everything to last at least a couple weeks is second nature to me. I just bought a little extra this time. I had a lot of opportunity to take in the “vibe” of the stores where I usually shop in the few days leading up to the panic-buying-in-earnest. It was eerie. There weren’t very many people out and about. Some were stocking up on huge quantities of staple items. Some were only picking up one or two things. Everyone seemed to be “testing the atmosphere.” Fear and anxiety seemed to be literally IN the air.

And I just kept wondering: what is this time FOR? What is any of it FOR?

In my last post, I touched a little bit on the sorts of dreams and aspirations I had as a little girl that gave me my sense of purpose: I wanted to be a wife, mother, and homemaker. And eventually a grandmother. And a great-grandmother, and a great-great-grandmother… etc.

I didn’t think much beyond that. When people have asked me “don’t you want to be MORE than just a wife and mother?” I look at them like they are CA-RAY-ZAY insane. Nutso. What sort of other endeavor could I possibly come up with that would be more worthwhile than THAT? Do they really think that motherhood is a part-time undertaking? What in the heck?

I’m reminded of a quote I read somewhere, which is apparently from an out-of-print book I’ve always wanted to get my hands on and never have: “No other success can compensate for failure in the home.” (Home: the Savior of Civilization, James Edward McCulloch)

I recall thinking when I was younger that having children young would afford me time in my middle-age-and-older years to “have fun” or “make money.” I would achieve success in the home – and THEN I would achieve success in the world!

But these days I’ve discovered that I don’t like fun OR money. I find them disingenuous.

These days I see that there truly IS no logical end to this undertaking of motherhood.

What I have been searching for is the answer to the wrong question: the question of “what THEN?”

The correct question is “WHAT FOR?”

And as soon as I asked THAT question, I realized I’ve had THAT answer all along. I’ve just been a little bit afraid to come out and say it:

For GOD.

I’ve learned to keep really quiet about my faith over the years.

I even spent a long period of time actively denying my faith – to suppress the cognitive dissonance of living wrongly for the purpose of seeking the approval of MEN. I chose to put a man before God, and I have paid dearly for it.

In all my wounded stumblings back towards God, I have effectively lost people I love dearly; people who could not reconcile my love for them with the fact that I believe differently and choose to live differently than they do. I never preached to them; I never judged them. I gave of myself to these people freely and selflessly – time, money, labor, attention and kind words. I do not hold very MANY people dear, and it pains me to wonder if there might have been something that I could have said to any or all of those people, to somehow make them understand that my beliefs and the things I choose to propagate in the world are not a condemnation.

But I cannot continue to make the same mistake of seeking approval from my fellow humans before seeking approval from God.

It occurs to me that I have even still continued to effectively DENY God for the purpose of not ruffling feathers. I mean, I’ll tell anyone who directly asks that I believe in God – but how many times have slunk away from a conversation, for fear of potentially “triggering” someone by offering ANY kind of non-secular perspective?

And that’s all kinds of silly, isn’t it?

There are so many things in this world that could kill me, nevermind this stupid virus. I could be dead tomorrow for a hundred different reasons. And the same goes for every single tomorrow after that.

So, what’s it all for?

For GOD, dammit.

Goddammit.

Running My Mouth

I recently became aware of the “#TradWife” movement. I can’t say I like it. It makes me roll my eyes. Activism has that effect on me. There’s a saying I heard one time that goes something like “if you’re talking, you’re not working.” Now, that’s not ALWAYS true, but it often is – especially for us, ladies.

There’s also the allure of attention and validation, which is innate to the sorts of activism that thrust people into the public eye, and which ends up corrupting many young women who start out with otherwise good intentions.

A couple posters over on RVF articulated my own thoughts more succinctly than I could:

“Well if said influencers are serious they will be anonymous and they will not show their faces.

Otherwise the temptation to attention whore will be a problem. And they end up a ethot grifter instead.”

That resonates with me – although personally, I have something of an aversion to being in the spotlight. But I’d say the understanding of the principle rings all the truer for me on account of the fact that I’ve been painstakingly aware of the attention I’ve received my entire life, more or less just for being female – because I don’t like it. It makes my skin crawl.

I’ve become reticent over the years in writing and sharing my thoughts – and especially afraid of having those words associated with my actual face – because it’s so profoundly uncomfortable for me to have people paying attention to me. If I already get so much attention without even really ASKING for it – what would happen if I were actually TRYING? And heaven forbid, what if I actually LIKED it? I’ve thanked God many times for making me shy and socially anxious. 🙂

The next quote really drives it home for me, though:

I agree with everyone who pointed out that a real “trad wife” would not be broadcasting her life choices (or her children’s lives) on social media.”

Broadcasting your young children’s lives (showing their faces and saying their names) on social media before they are old enough to know what’s going on is not “tasteful.”

As far as women broadcasting their own lives in order to “teach other women,” there is a reason why pretty much all major religions forbid women from becoming priests or spiritual teachers/leaders.

Even if the woman’s heart is in the right place (unlikely), all the women she influences are likely to only follow her out of narcissism and the desire to get attention. She would be encouraging narcissism and attention-seeking behavior in other women rather than encouraging virtue.

In any case, if these women are so family-oriented, then why are they prioritizing “teaching other women” over caring for their own family in the best way possible (which means not broadcasting their lives on social media)?

Lastly, although I have no evidence of this, I’d be willing to bet that these “trad wives” on social media are more than willing to show cleavage, wear makeup (which in past traditional times was considered to be for prostitutes) and show off their bodies in general.

Even it they are only showing off their faces and not their bodies, I’d bet that they get a sense of satisfaction, rather than disgust, when they receive messages from their male followers telling them how beautiful they are and “I wish I could find a trad wife like you,” etc.

BOOM. Yes. All of this.

ALL. OF. IT.

So why am I even sitting here writing this blog entry instead of scrubbing toilets or teaching my children how to properly conjugate verbs, or work out long division on paper?

Well, because what the “Trad Wife Movement” doesn’t understand is that this is WAR.

I’ll admit that when I was a little girl, I essentially dreamed of being a “Trad Wife.” I held my traditional religious views (cultivated in spite of an exceedingly liberal upbringing) near and dear to my heart, and I wanted to be a shining example of how even today, women can still choose homemaking and childrearing; that women CAN find joy and fulfillment in traditional, feminine, domestic roles.

I was a cultural reactionary at the tender age of just five years old: stomping my foot and crossing my arms and telling my father that I would NEVER go to college; that I did not NEED to go to college in order to get married and have babies. It felt like the entire world was against me. “You MUST go to college,” they said. “You MUST have a career.” “You won’t find a man who will support you and give you the life that you want.”

I was going to PROVE THEM WRONG.

I see the same naive idealism in the “TradWife” scene. Even the ones who are not straight-up e-thots – there is so much idealizing and romanticizing. These women are broadcasting the idea that the lifestyle they are living is not only readily available to OTHER women – but that it is leisurely enough that they are able to invest considerable amounts of time and energy into broadcasting their lives to the rest of the world. And so can you!

In other words, the “TradWife” movement is not representative of any sort of traditional REALITY. It’s a sugar-coated portrait of something people desperately want to see. It’s not REAL. Add in the monetization factor (or the “thotting around to snag a husband” factor), and most of it amounts to pure self-interested pandering to and in support of consumer desires and behaviors.

It’s another a shiny consumer trap.

I’ve learned the hard way that, while certainly not impossible, achieving a traditional marriage and family structure in this day and age (especially in the Western world) is exceedingly difficult. The entire cultural and economic deck of cards that is modern civilization is stacked against you. In short: you’re not ALLOWED to even DO that – let alone enjoy it. You have to be willing to endure a lot of blows and undertake a lot of hardships.

The “TradWife” movement portrays itself as a matter of CHOICE. It asks: why don’t more women simply make the decision to live this way?

Well, no offense here, sweetheart – but would YOU be able to live that way if you weren’t a monetized/affiliate-marketing/self-promoting/gold-digging ho?

No, you wouldn’t.

And yes, that IS overly-harsh of me.

But it’s also kinda true.

Upholding the cultural traditions that are conducive to the formation of strong marriages, families, and societies is not about posing in pretty dresses in meadows. It’s not about taking selfies around the house. It’s not about fetishizing wifely submission or male leadership.

Unless you are VERY privileged, it’s a tooth-and-nail fight that frankly ought not to leave you with the sort of time on your hands to be flaunting your exploits all over the internet.

I’m here running my mouth because I want more people – and especially more women – to understand this.

THE CAKE IS A LIE.

You can either fight, OR you can whore yourself out on the platforms of your enemies for validation and resources and material success while they salt the earth of your homelands and deliver your sisters and your daughters into bondage and death.

THAT is the simple choice you have to make.

Listen Up, Ladies:

Imagine that the world has gone all to hell (because it has – even if you haven’t noticed yet).

The institutions you have previously relied on to support your existence have crumbled.

It’s every woman for herself out there – and every man for himself.

Conflict is everywhere. Cooperation and community are virtually nowhere to be found.

Our FAMILIES – the most foundational and fundamental building blocks of society – are crumbling, being torn asunder, prevented from forming.

Do you relish this? Do you thrive on this chaos – on this decay of traditional society? Are you a strong, independent woman who rises up and whispers into the void that once was civilization – that it better get ready for the storm she’s about to unleash into it?

If yes, please kindly GTFO. There are plenty of places in the world which cater to that perspective, and this isn’t one of them.

But if you’re like me – if you’re standing here wondering what in the everloving hell just happened and why everything sucks and why everyone is stupid and wrong and delusional; why nothing is sacred, why traditions that might have sustained you are mocked, and why the children you dreamed of having in your youth are either nowhere found or formed in this world – or realizing that they are in grave peril for having found themselves in it…

YOU are my sister.

Whether you believe in any God or not. Whether you would stand with me in the bright-eyed optimism of purity and innocence – or in the anger and the sorrow of the deepest depths of degradation. Whether you have learned in the relative safety of faith and discipline – or in the costly school of experience and “hard knocks.”

If you have recognized the untruths that preside over the modern world – and if you give a damn about the ACTUAL TRUTH, and if you are willing to stand AGAINST the lies of modernity – to not give in to the temptations of their convenience and indulgence – then I would have you stand with me. And I would stand with you.

America

Have you heard the lamentations of the women
driven from their homes before the dawn?
Can you hear the crying of the children
in the morning, when they wake to find them gone?

Don’t lie to me, America;
don’t stand there and try to tell me we’re all better off this way.
Those freedoms that you gave us,
when you said you came to save us,
(all these bonds which now enslave us)
cost more than all we had to give away.

Do you see the desolation of the valleys
where so many generations’ fields were sown?
Or feel the silent sadness of the fathers
aching for a child they’ve never known?
You pawned them for the highest price
their innocence, their souls, their lives
their involuntary sacrificial offering to sin and vice –

so small
in light of all you stood to GAIN.

But all your tears could not recuse me
so my darling, please excuse me;
I’ll not echo your Malthusian refrain.
For the grand manipulations and the false emancipations of
your wretched supplication to your god of liberation –
how many of my sisters have you SLAIN?

So come here, sit down, shut up – and listen to me, little girl.
You want to enchain the whole world, and it’s NOT OKAY.
But in the end the truth will find you
that the only chains that bind you
are the decisions that define you;
no matter what those other voices say.

We’re all prisoners in the dungeons of our making;
we all must choose the penance that we pay.
Down in the darkness waiting,
just before the dawn was breaking –
when the devil knocked, you smiled and bade him stay.
And you’ve been selling all your charms,
now your crying for the arms
of a man who says he wants you anyway.

But did your white knight on his high horse tell you –
why his armor’s shining?
Could it be perhaps he’s spent more hours polishing than fighting?
Have his hands grown soft?
His face gone pale?
Have his limbs grown weak?
Does his spirit quail?
Will his feet falter when the battle falls like lightning?

Will you watch the tables turn?
Will he be bleeding while you burn?
Or did you think that all the world would be your stage?
Now your curtain call draws nigh –
but you can’t run and you can’t hide from
the dragons you have summoned to your cage.

But don’t cry for me, America;
you’re just another girl with a beautiful face.
When you’re gone, it won’t be long –
some other pretty girl will come along to take your place.