Craziest thing...

Hey all. So yesterday, the craziest thing happened. It was a weird day, Riley had slept only a few hours the night before. Amy had to catch sleep in the guest room since she had work, and I spent the night alternating between begging Riley to sleep and trying to command her to. (Sidenote...neither works...). She was cranky as all hell in the morning and took an early nap. My parents called, mom who has been knocked out of commission with Shingles was all clear to come see Ri. Sure, come on up. So Pops and Mamacita came up, Riley was ecstatic. Now my day is already off schedule and I still need to shop and pick Amy up early. So we go through Target, and I literally have to turn and burn. No problem. I will leave the car and Ri home with the 'rents and use their car to pick up Amy. Great. I hope on their car and take off. Barely even ten minutes into the drive a red sedan comes flying around a curve on the opposite side of the road, pointing towards me. I can't even really tell you what happened. I know that I went oh f**k he is going to fast. I slammed on my brakes and instinctively pulled to the side of the road as he flipped his car in front of me, sliding off the road on the roof of the car into a front yard. I saw the person behind me swerve left as I swerved right and he barely missed me and was breaths within of this sliding car, which if I had been even 20 seconds earlier would have taken me out with him.
I don't know how I knew the car was going to lose control. I can't think, looking back, of anything that told me...no bobbles, no swerving. Just and inherent sense that it was too fast, and to stop and avoid. Now, being involved with the volunteer  fire department as long as I was, first as an explorer, then as a fire fighter, instinct took over immediately. I ran to car, seeing the neighbor of the yard he lay in already on the phone. As I dropped to my knees beside the car I took in so many things at once. The car was still running. There was a gentle smoke starting. The car was almost flat. The windshields, both front and back had smashed out, flying away from the car in their respective opposite directions. Debris was littering the ground in a circle around the car, probably about a mile each way. There was an acrid smell to the smoke. I circled the car, not seeing anyone in or thrown out of the car other then the driver. As I circled back to the road, I dropped to my knees calling to him, sir are you ok. This is a long run on sentence paragraph so you would think it took forever. It had to have been no more then a minute by the time I dropped beside him.
I saw some bad sights my years as a volunteer firefighter. Nothing I ever saw compared to or prepared me for looking into that car. I think that as a firefighter, you pull up you have your gear, you have a sense of what you are walking into from dispatch and you have a job to do. You are there to fix the problem, you have the know-how and tools to do so and that's just it. As my father a long standing Volunteer firefighter, an officer up to and including chief over his time has always said...if you are doing your job on the scene, you don't really have time to see the victim(s). Here I had no job. I was just trying to figure out if I could help.  As I dropped down, calling out to him, I saw that the car was as flat as it appeared. He was hunched over, as the car was pushing him down almost into a 90 degree angle, but not quite. His head was at an impossible angle. He had a seatbelt on that was holding him in enough it was probably saving him from breaking his neck. I smelled a sweet, slightly Metallic (almost like that smell if you clutch coins in your hand on a hot day) smell that is unmistakeable if you have ever been exposed to the scent before...blood. A lot of blood. I got lower as I heard him moan and saw (*ATTENTION GRAPHIC*) a huge chunk of skin just hanging from his left arm and blood just pouring out of it. His face was called in blood. His right arm must have flown up at some point , it was across his body and the hand was pinned underneath the door jam. The woman on the phone ran up yelling for them to hurry damnit. I started firing information at her to tell them rapidly and she looked at me and just held her phone out. I said hello and told the dispatcher what I had. She figured out quickly I had some kind of experience. She asked how dire the situation was frankly at that point. I said to her quite plainly, he is losing blood quickly and in a big quantity. Get em here. The woman looked at me I am a home health aide and we need to apply pressure and she ran back to her house. I noticed he was quiet and yelled out buddy you there.
Keep him talking from the dispatcher.
Duh.
Yes. He groaned. What's your name bud. Steve. How old are you Steve. A fainter groan. You gotta stay awake Steve. How old. 42. What year is it. Pause. What year Steve.....STEVE. 2017. To dispatch as the home health aide ran up joining me next to the car and wrapping the towel around his arm. Another neighbor ran up, I gave her the phone, dropping back down. Pressure I said to her. Hard. Steve who is President. No response. The lingering smoke was getting less white, more grey...bad. STEVE WHO IS PRESIDENT. f**king Trump the response through clenched teeth as I got further down trying to see if I could get to the ignition...no go. I put my hand in the car, no go, but pulled it out ant saw that the car was leaking fluids. Not good. Can't get it off I said to some guy on the scene. Him and another guy looked at the car circling it, and I don't know what they did, but it turned off and as I shifted to say thanks I looked down. I realized that the fingers popping out of our side of the car didn't match up to where I saw his hand was under the jam. I looked at the woman who now had the phone, hearing a siren in the background. Steve was now yelling incomprehensibly, with pain laced so strongly through his voice that I knew whatever adrenaline had him answering me before was gone. Quietly I said tell dispatch that his right fingers are amputated.
From there, officials took over. I told what I knew and had to continue on to pick up Amy, now running late. We continued on with our Thursday. Even our Friday. But I wonder what happened. I hope he is ok. I heard his screams last night in my sleep. I can't shake it. Today I am sitting here and am blogging this hoping that I get the screams out of my head. I hope that I can get the smell out of my nose and I want to close my eyes and not see those mismatching fingers and hand placement perfectly.
Mostly I am confused. I have been to fires, I have been to accidents. Am I that out of practice? Was it different because anything that had happened to make me even 20 seconds earlier would have put me from a bystander to a victim myself? Is it sticking because I am a parent now? Is it because I have never seen it not in an official capacity before?
I don't know. But I know I am grateful I was so off schedule yesterday. I hope that between me and the others who weren't scared to stop and help and try that he is alive. I hope it will stop haunting me. Mostly, I hope Steve lives today, tomorrow, and for a long time. Thanks for listening.
Until next time.

Introduction to my strange and secret passion....

Blogging is something I want to do regularly and often fall behind in - I mean, a lot. Why?? Because I worry too much about putting out there what I feel people may want to read, or that I feel I should due to the current terrifying climate of the world. I am scared to write anything that my family or friends might take offense to or be embarrassed by me. Why is that a problem - why does it make me just stop writing instead of giving into what I think people want from me? Because when you don't write about what you want to write about, what you care about, your writing suffers. You may technically still write properly, it may even be good - but it will be missing a spark - a fire. Without that, writing is nothing but lackluster. The most flawless, perfect technical writing can fall flat if there is nothing sparking the subject matter. Also, if you feel like you are forcing it, you won't write - as evidenced by myself and my blog. So here is my wholehearted attempt to return to my roots and what I like.
So I admit it may be strange, but my secret passion/obsession is cold cases/historic cases. Not in some creepy, psychotic killer re-enactment way. I am obsessed with trying to solve the puzzles, or studying the facts and the results of a case. Am I egotistical and blind to the truth enough to think that I can see something others missed, or solve crimes from my home office when trained professionals couldn't - NO, not at all. I do, however, think that I can totally give a case an open-minded, objective and "woman of the people" look and analysis. So, why do I have this desire to learn about cases - whether just historically significant or long wondered about cold cases? Honestly -  and a bit sadly - I think that a large part of it is from growing up in the 1980's and 90's.
During this time period, there seems to have been A LOT of cases in the news there were baffling, terrifying and many of which remain unsolved to this day. Of course, though, when you have that interest sparked in you, you start looking back into history. So far warning, that is what is going to be dominating my blog-space for awhile. Please, keep in mind (if anyone is still reading this rambling) that I am a trained Paralegal, and have my degree in History and English. Why am I mentioning this? Because literally EVERYTHING I have studied and prepared for in my life has trained me to excel in 1 thing - researching. I am a multi-trained researcher, and I don't half-ass it. I immerse in my subject, and look at everything with an eye and mind trained to observe and pick apart. I in fact often find myself approaching life in that way. I will be presenting my cases, research and conclusions as that trained researcher. This will interest me and people like me. I hope it puts the spark back into my writing that and if so I hope that spark will draw in people who don't normally care about this. Either way - sit back and try to enjoy. I will be starting with the most notorious case of the 1990's, the one that sparked this all in me. A case many people forget is actually a cold case. The 1994 double murder of Nicole Brown-Simpson and Ronald Goldman.
Until next time.

Let's ALL commit to taking a risk today...

In today's turbulent world it may seem strange that I am saying today it is more important then ever to take risks, but that is the idea I am proposing today. Whether the risk is talking to someone you normally wouldn't, going skydiving, joining an organization you normally wouldn't, taking your dream job or attending your first protest, do yourself a favor and make the leap. Taking risks will inevitably lead to new discoveries. These new discoveries may be about yourself or about the world around you. Maybe you will find out that the person you talk to loves to read your favorite author of enjoys playing PS4. You might see the most beautiful scenery you ever will jumping out of that plane. You may find your true passion by joining a community organization or taking that leap of faith to take your dream job. Whatever the risk you take and the result of it, it is a step towards growth. Growing yourself as a person. Growing closer as a community, and even hopefully growing our country - together. Without risks, we all become stagnate and subordinate to our routines. We forget the thrill of trying that new thing and the feel of the inherent rewards of doing so. Risk taking has been essential to this rebellious country of ours since the beginning. Centuries ago, our first ancestors took the risk of getting on those boats and crossing the ocean. Then our forefathers risked declaring our independence. Still more risked electing a controversial President Lincoln knowing what the result could be, and fought a civil war to unite our country under the stars and stripes. From the risk takers of the roaring-twenties, to the freedom fighters of the 1960's to those standing on the right side of history today, never bending to bullying even from the highest positions, every pertinent time in our long history leads back to people who were willing and even excited to take risks. To further extend my point, I feel that on the flip side the periods of the greatest unrest and oppression can be documented when the majority of the people are too scared to take even the smallest of risks. So go out there today, right now and take a risk, no matter how small it is, no matter what it is. Small risks will awaken in you that part of us all that needs encouragement AND engagement to grow. The will lead to bigger, better and more risks. The rewards will astound you and lead to a better life not just for you, but for us all.

No such thing as color blind...

OK, so, have always prided myself on being color blind. Oh I don't notice people's skin color I say witheringly. Well I used to. I would get enfuriated when people said that it was impossible not to notice people's skin color right away. As I got older, as I became a fighter for rights for my LGBTQ community I was forced to a realization. I do notice. They were all right. There is NO such thing as color blind. I, Heather Corinne Marlette, notice the color of people's skin. Am I...racist!?!?!?
Even longer then I have fought for rights for my own marginalized community, I have fought racism and bigotry. So this was heart breaking. So I sat and thought. And I realized something. It's not that I don't notice skin color, because as I have realized of course I do. But I can breathe easy because I ALSO realized that I am not a racist or a bigot for a very simple reason. When I realized this I asked myself if I notice skin color how can I not be racist and the simple answer is...I notice skin color and realize that the only thing it tells me about a person is LITERALLY the color of their skin. As in pigment. So I know a person has white, brown, black, red, purple, blue skin. I know nothing else and therefore I proceed  on with - get this - getting to know the person inside that pigmentation. Craziness I know. I realize that I must be stuck at age 7. I do not make a decision upon meeting people as to their entire life and personality simply because of what Crayola I would use to make my rocking stick figure portrait of them.
The color of skin doesn't tell me if the person underneath is gay or straight, Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Atheist, spiritual, happy, sad, a football fan. It won't tell me if they like baseball or soccer, if they are a Republican, Democrat, Socialist, conservative, liberal or Libertarian. I don't know by how light or dark they are if they are a reader, do suduku, how they like to relax, if they can dance or if they wear contacts or have perfect vision. It won't tell me if they are kind or nasty, if they like cats, dogs, neither or what their favorite color is. How do extremeists look at some one, see their skin color and automatically know where that person falls on the subject of O.J.'s guilt? Am I just slow that indeed I need to hang out with a person to find out if we have enough in common to hang out and be friends? Skin color means nothing, but you can identify the musical I just broke into right? No? Oh you like plays, yeah I love Shakespeare too...you haven't lived until you hear me recite Puck's closing monologue. Not a theater person? That's sad. I will judge for that. I mean skin color is genetics but theater ignorance is a choice I can't get behind.
I am holding paint swatches up here to try and place your exact shade, but close as I get it still isn't telling me if you are a hipster, a nerd, a geek or an iPhone user. I mean, can you please tell me how skin color tells people if a person likes LOTR, plays D & D, gets inked at every opportunity or likes to go to the final frontier. Do they go to the hippest clubs all weekend? Do they have long debates on what the kids means in Empire and if George knew they were freaking siblings. Are you brave enough for Gryffindor, smart enough for Ravenclaw, loyal enough for Hufflepuff or sly enough for Slytherin? If I say goodbye with"May the odds be ever in your favor" are you going to get it...and books, movies or both? If I look at a  dog fight that ends in the participants licking wounds and sah still a.better live story then Twilight. I going to have to explain myself? Do you fight over Yankees vs. Redsox with your buddies, or is the fight more about DC vs. Marvel. PS I love me some wonderwoman but it's Marvel and if you don't like it get outta my multiverse.
I could go on for literal pages...but I think you get my point. So I want to change my tactic. I used to implore others to be colorblind. I get why you can't be, but please, if I can be honest about it we all can be. No colorblindness fine. Understand though...color is nothing but a finishing touch. It's the paint color that you have to look past to see if the structure of the house has good bones worth further investigation. The bones may not be for you, but don't judge it by what is on the outside. We are all such complex, multifaceted beings, why can't we all see that color ain't no thing, but if you want to fight it out over whether Coke is better than Pepsi, we can have a valid debate.
So if you made it to the end of this, please take me up on the challenge to try not to care about what crayon you have to use to depict a new person you were introduced to and actual get to know them. I promise you, people can surprise you in as good ways as we are seeing bad in the news of today's world. Let's all hang in there together , arms linked, hearts connected, and minds open to be blown.

Writers Block Rant

So I am doing better with dieting and exercising then writing...what????????? I am down 6 pounds since May 1. I am exercising at least 3 days a week, sticking to the diet and going strong. I am sucking out at writing. I can't focus. I have no clue what to write about. I sit down and can't get there. So I am keeping myself honest by updating the blog. I hope that it will jump start something. I am not sure what to do if it doesn't. How do you create when you can't get the creative juices to flow. I don't know. I may have to do a series of shark blogs again, history maybe. Something to get into the flow of it. I need to do something. So I am going to reflect on it. I am going to decide by Saturday at the latest what I am going to write about and stick to it. I need to get back into the frame of mind. Yes, writing is about being creative and inventing worlds and people and getting you to care. It is also about being disciplined, consistent and writing. No matter what. What you put onto paper doesn't necessarily have to be good. You may never show anyone 90% of what you write. That part of it is just about doing it. SO, I will be back soon, with an idea of a series of blogs, and hopefully another good update on the rest.

So It Begins

I am not going to give numbers, but I am going to be completely open and honest. My doctor really isn't giving me a choice anymore, and I have to lose weight. I know I need to. I want to. I want to be the best and healthiest me for my daughter and wife - but this is an area that I truly suck at. I simply am not good at sticking to it. I should be. I have pretty good self control. I can deny myself things I want if I know that they are bad for me, mentally or physically. So why do I suck at sticking to dieting and exercising. I don't know. The choice is over though. I can no longer suck at it so here it goes. Starting now, I have to turn over a new leaf. So here I am blogging about it. Because I hope that it helps. I need to stick to blogging and writing, because that is truly what makes me happy and what I want to do in life. I need to stick to dieting and exercising to see my daughter grow up. I suck at both even though doing both make me feel good, and why? I don't know. SO I am holding myself accountable. This is my first blog in my new leaf life. I am going to blog and write and enter competitions and be true to my dream of becoming a writer. I am going to diet and exercise to see my daughter grow up and be the awesome person I know she can be. It won't be elegant, but I am going to do it this time. I am writing this and declaring it to you. I will try to make it clear when I am blogging about my diet and exercise, or when I am blogging about something else to make it easy for people to follow whatever they want. Either way, its gonna be a bumpy ride - but hopefully successful, and always interesting.

Yes, I am Mom

In today's society it is normal for families to be made up of many different kind of mixes. No longer is this the world of racially ambiguous Dad, Mom, 2.5 kids, dog and white picket fence. This is the world of advancing melting pot families – at least on first look. Being a part of one of those families however is completely different then checking a box for diversity. I love my wife and my daughter more than life itself. There is no doubt in my mind that how we are a normal family is because they have made my life complete. I have never known happiness or the feeling of love that I have had in my life since we welcomed out daughter here. With it though is the undeniable sense of how the outside world views us, and more specifically me. I was there as any father would have been through the 3 trimesters of my wife’s pregnancy. I was there at the beginning of it all, through the IVF appointments, the psych-social we had to have to use donor sperm in NYS, the 2 insemination attempts to get a successful one. I waited with bated breath the first time when we found out she wasn’t pregnant. I was more upset then she was I think. At attempt number 2, when we knew there was a good chance and we made it to the blood test, I am not sure who checked the portal more that day. When it came back positive, I felt my whole life change as much as her. I was there for every appointment, every ultrasound, and when she was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, I was there for every endocrine appointment, every blood stick, and every insulin shot. I went on the diet with her and did all I could to support her and make it as easy for her as possible. I was there when she went in to get induced, and I held her hand and slept less than her for the 42 hours it took for our girl to come. I got to do skin to skin in the delivery room, held our baby when she was too dizzy to after labor, and pushed the bassinet over to post-partum right beside her wheelchair. My name is on the birth certificate as her parent. I stayed awake that first night so that my wife could rest but that when the nurse brought our girl back from her initial check-up, I could read off the numbers on my bracelet and we could have her in our room. Over the nine months of her pregnancy and the nine months that we have had our baby girl I have been her mother in every sense as much as my wife has. Yet I still get the questions. So – what is she going to call you? Why didn’t you carry? Are you going to carry the next one? What are you going to tell her about her dad? Why don’t you want one of your very own? Um, okay, personal much? She is going to call me mom because you know, I am her mom. I didn’t carry because I never wanted to…and in nope, not carrying the next one if we have another because still don’t want to. My wife and I have not fully decided on what we will tell her about the sperm donor…but let’s be careful applying the word dad to a dude who never wanted it and got paid for his donation. I do want one of my very own, and I already have her. Have had her for 9 months. Thanks though, oh and in some cases nice to meet you. I was completely unaware of how fast boundaries come down when 2 lesbians have a baby. What I have noticed is a complete lack of resources for people in my situation. There are some books that you can pay an obscene amount for, but this is still pretty unchartered territory. So I am hoping to help both myself and others by putting this out there. You aren’t alone, and you aren’t crazy. You are not the other mother. You are mom, your wife is mom, and you are a family. I am a first time mom trying to learn how to do that, so though I embrace it, also trying to educate people around me on LGBTQ familial rights will make for an interesting ride…so buckle up and let’s do it together.