Kat Schultz

There are a few website’s I visit occasionally. We all have them. Those sites you read, but don’t actually love, yet like clockwork, there you are reading more articles and information that you really could care less about… except, perhaps the gossip of them.

For me, most of these sites are military related… in some sense. I am after all a military spouse. It keeps me in the loop and gives me something to discuss with my husband once in awhile. I am, when all is said and done, a woman. And as a woman, I cannot help but point out things that are probably better left unpointed-out. So I try to pretend my husband actually cares when I am telling him all about “This woman, she actually did THIS, how stupid of her… and these other women??? They are saying she should do that and she is probably listening to them RIGHT NOW, and whoosh, there goes THAT chicks marriage.”

I am also big on OPSEC. Which is why when I read this in conjunction with another story recently posted on an “ask  Ms. Vicki” forum, it really got me thinking.

First, the post I had read (which I cannot find the link to at the moment) was about a woman who had met a soldier online. He sweet talked her and they began an online relationship. He would send her pictures of himself and said he was currently deployed. She wanted to talk to him on the phone and he told her that she had to have permission to contact him, and made her send copies of certain documents to a random email address, claiming it was governmental. These documents included a copy of her I.D., Passport and Social Security card (IIRC). The woman was dumb enough to send it. WHO DOES THAT!? Anyhow, he eventually started asking for money, a lot of money, to help him with pay off his ex-wife. It finally dawned on her that he might be lying. WHAT IN THE WORLD, LADY!?

Anyhow, awhile back there was a debate on banning social sites, such as Facebook, from military usage. When it was decided it would not happen, they did something I found appalling; they let employees access these sites while at work. Whaaaaat? Yeah, I know, stupid and stupid.

Apparently, these scams are popping up all over. They are in-line with the good old “Send me your bank account information and $600,000.00; cash and you can claim the $5 million that is sitting in an off-shore account that once belonged to the King of Jimbobwooloo.” So, these people are popping on to social networking sites, like Facebook, and stealing information on various U.S. military personal. Photo’s, names, you name it. They then claim to be this person and meet women and/or men on various other sites and forums and chat rooms and make elaborate stories up and lead people on, creating relationships with them in hopes of obtaining information to most likely use for identity theft.

I am not against online relationships and am not against helping out your online friends. But, I am against people who are old enough to know better being stupid enough to fall for this crap.

Even worse, I am starting to think that perhaps Social Networking websites should be restricted. Yeah, yeah, I know… It’s against freedom of…. Social Networking?? So, because I doubt that the military will ever ban Social Networking sites like Facebook from U.S. military members use… I do wish that military members would be a bit more cautious. This poor sod out there has his information hijacked and used to scam some poor desperate lady out of HER information.

I think I am nearly done with Facebook, myself. I intend on removing my Facebook in the near future. I also fully plan on watermarking all of my photos to reflect the website they come from. That way, I don’t find out that my husband has turned into some Arab prick scamming little desperate ladies. What a shock it would be to find out that my husband owes me alimony and cannot afford to pay me off! Heh.

It’s time to start protecting ourselves, people! Let’s do it!

1.  A cheat, liar and/or a thief. If there is one type of person I cannot stand in this world… Only the weak and lazy must use such crude tactics to get by in life.

2. Total lack of common sense. If we were animals without an intelligent thought process, you’d be the first to go. Sometimes, I wish it were the case! And please avoid feigning ignorance because:

3. Ignorant/Stupid people. Unless you have a good reason, you have no reason with me. If you don’t know or understand something, take some initiative to understand and know it. Otherwise, keep it to yourself.

4. Close-minded persons. I may never support the things I oppose, but that does not make me close-minded. If you’re out to simply put down others with different opinions, beliefs and views, please steer clear of me. I don’t have time for you. At least make an attempt at understanding one another, you do not have to believe as another does, but do not put them down, dislike them or breed stupidity and hatred simply because you do not feel as they do. Keep an open-mind to the world around you, it may surprise you.

5. Unwarranted Entitlement. Being a King’s brother does not make you King. Just because you CAN get it for free does not mean you deserve to get it for free. Just because you found it, does not mean you should get to keep it, or be paid to give it back to its rightful owner. This list can go on forever but, I hope you get the point.
 

There are quite a few people I know who fit into these categories. And as much as I would LOVE to call them out, I cannot bring myself to do it. I suppose it is partially because I believe myself to be above that. I am also not one for conflict. But, the biggest reason I am unable to, regardless of how much I wish I could, is because I don’t like to hurt people.

However, do not believe me to be scared of it. All it takes it pushing me a little too hard! Still, I want to just reflect on my first reason… I am above that. However, I am sure that people who fall into these 5 categories know who they are. Only a stupid person would speak out about it. Which, there are a few of them.

Okay, so twice over now. My brother-in-law and his beautiful wife did have a baby a couple of months ago. But the time has finally come when one of my own siblings produced offspring! Andre Lamar Mabey was born today at 11:40 am. He weighs 8 lbs 5oz and is 22 inches long!

And he is absolutely BEAUTIFUL! Mother and baby are both healthy and fine. There was a bit of a struggle to bring this baby into the world. After 18 hours of induced labor, he was finally taken via c-section. Mommy was preeclampsia, so Andre was taken to NICU to monitor his health for a bit. The tubes (seen in the picture below) was simply a precaution. They scared me at first — I have never seen I.V. tubes in a baby’s head before. But, that is all they are; I.V. tubes in case they needed to administer him anything while he was in NICU.

I just read an article here about a set of parents who decided to keep their child’s sex identity a secret until he was five. The only reason he was ousted was because he entered school.

Many people argue that she had gone to extreme lengths to feminize her son, allowing him to wear a pink bikini but not allowing him to wear shirts that scream “I’m a boy!” such as ones with skulls on them. Granted, I don’t like shirts with skulls on them on either of my boys, but that was only one of the few clearly defined types of masculine clothing banned by the boy’s parents.

Others argue that it’s an experiment set by the boy’s parents. Some argue it is setting the child up for loads of ridicule in the future. Teasing and taunting by his peers while the boy is sent to school in his uniform half boy, half girl.

I personally sort of understand the parents meaning behind this. However, I still do not agree with the length’s these parents are taking to allow the child his own identity.

My own son is allowed to play with whatever toys he wishes to play with. He has dolls and he has cars, he has a kitchen set loaded with play food and a tool bench loaded with tools. He loves them all equally. When he is at his friends house, he gladly plays with her “feminine” toys and she doesn’t seem to mind playing with his “masculine” toys. In fact, he REALLY wants one of those Playhouses, my husband and I have been trying to find one similar to his friends, because he likes that one. No luck still. Hoping on a garage sale find one of these days.

My son LOVES Dora the Explorer. (He is also very fond of Go, Diego Go!) When he turned two, he need a new pair of shoes. Off to Target we went. I allow him a lot of say in the things he gets. Clothes, Toys and even shoes. However, the pair of shoes he wanted the most were a pair of pink Dora the Explorer shoes. I am sorry, he does not know what genderization is. But, I could not bring myself to buy them for him, even though I wanted to – just to please him! So I showed him all of the boys shoes and he ended up picking a pair that lit up. He was content with that. So, we walked to the toy isle and I got him a Dora toy. Problem solved!

As screwed up as it may be, we have a set of standard norms in our society. Of course things always change over time, else I’d be sitting here writing this in a Poodle Skirt, although, I don’t think I’d mind that actually. It’s also different for boys than it is girls. Girls are given much less thought when they are seen running around dressed like a boy. But to see a boy running around in a dress? It does not bode well for that child.

I also want to express that these parents are not so much allowing their child freedom of choice (as his choices are limited by *banned* items), but more forcing him into a life of feminism. There is a very strong difference there. As an example, a woman that I had once lived near had the most adorable little boy I’d ever seen, except he was a she. Admittedly, at first thought I was appalled by this situation. So were others. I never actually got the chance to get to know this family before I moved, but I was insanely curious. It went beyond the typical “tom-boy” you see. This girl lived like a boy. I’d even heard her father call her names like, “Bud” instead of “Sweetheart”. My dearest and best-friend who I sadly left behind is now wonderful friends with this woman and her family. I could slap myself a thousand times for my feelings because I judged without knowing her. This child TRULY was given freedom of choice. It was not a social experiment. The child wants to be a boy. Her [his] family supports him. It’s actually endearing! But as a mother I can understand.

A mother of two boys and I want a girl!! I’d be a little heartbroken if my girl decided that she was a BOY. But with the love in my heart that I have for my children I would support her the best I could. Which is what this mother does, supports her daughter [son]. Same if one of my boys decided he’d rather be a girl. Later in life, I am sure that the kids will become crueler.  Kids are cruel no matter what. Finding flaws in a person seems to be everyone’s most treasured gift in life. As a parent we want to protect our children. Why is it that most parents will recite their child’s name over and over and rhyme it with words but to test what may take place later in life. As an example, I could never name my daughter Aisha Serena Schultz. ASS! I am trying to convince my younger brother not to name his kid Cooper as a first name. Cooper Pooper! If your last name is Cox, don’t name your daughter Sookie. So even before our children are born we are trying to protect them.

But you can only do so much. But, please, even if boys like shiny and frilly things, don’t take pictures of the kid wearing his older sister pink bikini and sure as hell don’t announce it to the entire world so that more than his peers think the boy is a bit odd.

I am a major supporter of OPSEC. I firmly believe that ALL spouses should be REQUIRED to take an OPSEC course upon agreeing to marry military persons. I mean, why not? This IS the military after all, and the military is not set to the same laws and standards (high or low) as the rest of the country. If it can save lives and ensure the success of our military missions and operations then why not force us to take a class on it? And all you naysayers out there, you’re part of the damn problem. “I am not in the military! The military has no right to tell me what I have to do!” Right, that’s okay. Just remain uneducated. Half the damn spouses don’t even know what OPSEC is, else I wouldn’t see so many dang posts stating down the very minute their husbands will be home from their deployments.

The military men (and women, I need to start including these rare beauties with their civilian spouses) need to be diligent in their efforts to educate their spouses. Mine own husband was extremely pressing in matters including OPSEC. I learned very quickly that OPSEC had not only meaning to ensure his safety and his missions safety, but that he would NOT tolerate a stupid wife with a large flapping mouth. He was never harsh and never cruel, but he did instill the importance of OPSEC on me before we were married. He takes it very seriously and so do I. There are times when I have doubts about what I can and cannot say, or should and should not say. But, I have given myself a motto: When it doubt, leave it out. Catchy, ain’t it?

I don’t expect many civilian’s to actually understand our lifestyle. It’s very different from their own. Even family, it’s hard to make them understand why my husband will not say specific dates and locations over the phone. If you truly believe that it’s safe, you’re a fool! The only time information should ever be passed is in person. Even then it is better that details are left out.

Here are some examples of how I answer typical questions:

If my husband wants to privilege people with this information, that is up to him to do. But, I won’t do it. It is not my place to, and you just NEVER know who is listening. Or who is really on your side, for that matter.

There is an old saying “Loose Lips Sink Ships.” It originated during WWII, in an effort to educate others on the importance of not giving out information about their spouses, children and friends who were deployed to prevent possible spies from obtaining the information to harm the U.S. soldiers and thwart missions.

If you asked me what church I attend, I could not answer you. At the moment, I attend none. Growing up, I did not have an easy life. For the longest time, however, I took my faith as serious as a child was capable of doing. I went to church every Sunday. It never mattered which church I went to, as long as I went. Sometimes I’d go to church on my own, sometimes with my best-friend Sabrina and her older sister Janelle. I had also attended church frequently with other families.

Why not my own? Well, simply put; God had no place in our home. I battled this often in my head and heart. I was shunned by my Pagan mother. I felt like an outcast in my own family. God had no place in our home. Even before she hopped to her Witch-craft, God had no place in our home. So I loved visiting him in his.

Over time, I lost that innocent faith in God. My rugged childhood. The abuse and torture. What did I do to deserve it? Even as little as a year ago I was asking this question.

But each year I grow older I long to feel God’s presence again. But, how do I get back into Church? How do I find the right church for me? All the years I had attended, it was based on other peoples preferences. It never mattered to me as long as I sat through it, read from the bible and listened to someone preach to me the word of God. A little Hispanic girl, sitting in an all Black Church based out of a random lot in a shopping center, yes, I have done that. It never mattered where I heard the word of God, just that I had.

I must point out, however, I was not the only non-black that sat in those fold up chairs inside of that church. Another woman, who at first glance you’d assume was homeless, did as well. Rarely had I ever sat close enough to her to see what she had dropped in the basket as it rotated around the room. My friends and I, though, always made sure to drop a donation. Kids, we were, but we’d save all week to donate on Sunday! The first time I’d ever sat near the woman I was shocked to see what she did drop into the basket. A $20 bill. Understand to a child, $20 was a lot. While we dropped handfuls of pennies and nickels, this seemingly homeless woman was dropping a LOT of money into that basket. From that day on, I thought she was rich. She had to be, humble and gentle, a rich white woman in rags among a church full of blacks. I was in awe over her.

So what is it that scares me now about a random church? When I was even younger, I had attended church with my Aunt. It was some progressive type church where the choir honed guitars and drums rather than a piano. They passed out pamphlet’s with stories of wickedness. Wickedness of man, the dangers of the devil. Satan was depicted as a businessman, or a wife or some other person guised to fool you into his bidding on some little comic strip. At the end of each Sunday, the usuals would take their places on knee at an alter and throw random words out of their mouths. Rolling their eyes around and quite frankly, looking like idiots. But, I was a child, one who felt she had no place in this world and all I wanted was to be dutiful to Christ and God. So I gained the courage to kneel beside my aunt one day and rolled random vowels around as the rest had. Only, my aunt turned to me and told me that I had to stop. “You don’t know how to speak in tongue.” Apparently, this is when the holy ghost had invaded their bodies and spoke through them… or some such nonsense. Outcast… outcast once again. I never attended church with her again. I may have been a child, but I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that nearly all the adults in that so-called church had been filled with a ghost who caused their eyes to go googly and their mouths to spew hums and dum-diddly-ums. Horseshit!

I did not know immediately. I was angered, confused and upset. But after those feelings subsided had I realized they were all fakes. Every. Last. One. Of. Them. Fakes! My aunt ended up pregnant eventually with a “bastard”. The church shunned her. Her bastard child was going to hell, they told her. She was distraught. Her bastard child had no chance in this world… nothing could ever save him from damnation, they told her. My grandmother comforted her and told her that the Lord loved her child as much as he loved any man. It took time, I feel, to mend her broken heart. But, I know she know has forgotten the cruelty shown by the false worshippers.

So what had happened here? My aunt was young. This church offered something new, something fun. Sometimes church is just boring. But that was never the case with this one. The rocked out, and preached in ways that made people giddy. Either they truly believed God was talking through them due to being crazy or they did not want to be left out, they all lied and faked that they had been imbued with a spirit, Jesus, or God himself. NONSENSE. But it was easy for any young person to get involved, because they made worship FUN. Just like Sunday school to me… When I’d get to listen to my teacher talk about stories from the bible, and we’d always receive FigNewtons for snack. We’d paint and draw. It was appealing to a child because they aimed it towards a child.

Admittedly I could never be sucked back into a situation like that. I learned my lesson through a lesson my aunt had learned. Sometimes I wish I could go back, sit in Sunday School Classes on Sundays and Bible Study on Wednesdays as a child. The child that was excited for the holidays because it meant making glittered crosses in class and the huge Christmas dinner where the church passed out toys to every child that had attended from under the huge Christmas Tree that stood in the middle of the giant auditorium. How easy it was for me to step outside my shell and ask questions and feel blessed for the answers that were so easy for the adults to address. My troubles at home always melted away the moment I set foot inside that church because I knew God had seen me. He loved me and as long as I was there, I was safe.

It’s not the same now. I don’t expect my troubles to wash themselves clean for the duration I am sat there. God cannot take away my school loans. That is my responsibility. He won’t come clean my tornado stricken home, either. Again, my duty. And the questions I have now are harder for any man to answer. I know that. Man cannot have the answer to all questions, else what is God worth? That is why we do not have the answers. We are no Gods. We are men, and soon enough we will all know the truth.

The last time I had attended church was with a friend a few years back. I was pregnant with my youngest living child at the time. I felt awkward and judged. It wasn’t that I was judged, I was not. The people were welcoming enough. My husband was deployed and they thanked him for his service and me for my duties as a wife. They introduced me to one another, each with a loving smile on their faces. I was ashamed. It was my guilt that was judging me, no other. No good church should judge a person based on their attendance. Whether it be the first time in ten years or the first time in a lifetime, a good church will welcome all. This church did that. I was truly welcomed… but, I found it hard to welcome myself. I am an outcast. These are good people who praise God often and this is the first time I have stepped foot in a church since I was 12.

I let the emotions of guilt and judgment get the better of me and did not go back. I avoided even the notion of attending church with my dear friend again. That only led to more guilt and I eventually splintered away from her all together. That has never caused her to leave me out of her emails, the ones she passes on every so often preaching about God and his will. Even if they are chainmail. I am still there to receive them all. I read them all. I never forward them, but I scroll down to the very last line… having read every word. I silently thank her for them. I am sure she just clicks a send to all, but regardless, wordlessly I thank her for including me.

God, grant me the strength to stop being a chicken and get back to church. It would do me good. It would do my family good.