Now it’s time for so long…

saaaad little D.A.!

saaaad little D.A.!

Okay, so, this is hard, but it’s necessary.  It’s time to start over, and there’s been too many changes since I started this blog.  This is part of my massive overhaul.  I’m not the same woman I was, and I don’t want to go through and edit or throw things away either.  the past few years of my life while I was writing this blog have been exceedingly hard.  Time for fresh starts, fresh breaths, and turning over fresh leaves.  I am, and will always remain, a domestic anarchist, but the title relates for me to a different time.  A time of love and loss.  A time that knocked me off my feet, and knocked the wind out of me.  A time that forced me to grow in ways I didn’t know I could.

And now it is time to end.  But every ending is also a beginning, and everything must first be broken down in order to be rebuilt.  so, thanks to my few friends that followed me, and also the few followers that I picked up in my short years of sporadic blogging.  It won’t be long till I form a new blog, I’m sure, and I shall be sure to post a link, so that you can all come see it.


The Domestic Anarchist

Personal Autonomy or “For Love of my Brewpub”


Okay, I am aware that at first glance “personal autonomy” looks to be a redundant statement.  However, it’s just the comment that this particular post is not necessarily a commentary on the autonomous collective of family, but my own personal autonomy and balancing my personal choices and rules with the rules that surround me as a member of society and the groups and collectives that I live inside of.

So, the primary collectives I’m part of are of course, first and foremost, my family, and then secondly, The Grove Street Brewhouse, which is my place of employment, and my home away from home (I’m writing this blog update here, and I’m here on a daily basis), it is the place I come for downtime, when I need to be able to flex my brainspace without the screaming of toddlers or ranting of video-gaming 8 year olds.  Let’s face it, no matter how much any parent loves their children, without the option of being ourselves OUTSIDE of our role of parenthood, we quickly disintegrate as individuals.

However, even here at The Grove, I’m not merely an individual.  I am a member of a team, personally doing my best to contribute to a business that I love and believe in.  My own autonomous rules that tell me how to function, do not necessarily tell me how to best function as a member of this said team.  We have to have our own rules that are also flexible to fit into the the structures around us.  This does not result in being mindless cogs, this results in the improvement and fluidity of our own lives.  To be independent and yet be able to function with a group is one of the most important skills we can learn.  For those as fiercely independent and anti-authoritarian as myself, it can also be one of the hardest skills to learn.

Obviously, this isn’t the first time I’ve been part of a “team” of employees.  However, I have little problem saying that this is the first business I’ve worked for that I cared about separately from the concept of “not shitting where I eat”.  Obviously, the more successful any business I work for is, the more successful I will be.  However, this place has acquired such value in my life, that I have to learn how to think of it during the moments where I’m not realizing that that I still reflect back on this business.  For the first time I find myself not struggling daily to assert my individuality despite all odds, but actually figuring out how to function more thoroughly as part of a collective that matters to me on more than just a personal level.  Which provides me with somewhat of an interesting quandary.

The balance, again, of finding the self-control to set aside my personal battle against authority and allow the love I have for an establishment to reflect in my behavior.  Reminding me, perhaps, that my personal arguments shouldn’t be brought up aggressively against people who help the fluidity of this business, and that, regardless of how much I love the beer here, tossing back 8 pints after I get off work might end up causing problems or embarrassment for this place I hold such high regard for, and want so desperately to succeed.

After all, though I am an atheist, beer is definitely the closest thing I have to a god, and in this small, sad, economically struggling little pacific town, the fact that we have a brewery at all is one of the few redeeming qualities.  But more importantly the people I’ve met through this place include many of the best people I’ve ever known.  From employees to Mug Club members, they’ve become people I consider family, filling out my fluid Ohana.  Being myself, this isn’t something I speak of real frequently (except in those embarrassing occasions where I’ve opted to toss back a few too many pints after work), but my soul feels enmeshed in this place, after only about 6 months.

I do hope to run my own sustainable brewhouse one day, and while I don’t really plan to run it in the same way as The Grove, I’ve realized that each place kind of has it’s own personality.  And the personality here just somehow feels like home.

This is the difference between working here, at a small, locally owned business, or at a large corporation, in my mind.  Large corporations function as machines, mindless, lacking in personality, and using people as cogs, small parts working synonymously to keep the overall machine plowing forward, with little thought or energy.  Small businesses, oftentimes, are more of organisms.  Employees are the microorganisms that live and stretch and flex within it, impacting and furthering the evolution of the organism, each part autonomous and individual, but reflecting the whole macrocosm.  This is the importance of craft beer, and brewpubs.  Anheuser-Busch and MillerCoors are machines, not organisms, and the flavor and spirit of their drinks reflect that.  Let’s support organisms, not machines.

When I first started this entry, I didn’t mean for it to just be a reflection on The Grove and my place within it, and my personal responsibility to protect and honor it, but that has become very much what it is.  Thank you to Tessie and Jeff, and everyone else here for letting me find my place within the organism which is the soul of The Grove, I hope to be a part of it for a long time to come.

So now, I’ll raise a pint of Big Tiny, smell the hoppiness, the rye-malt back, and drink a toast to everyone who’s found themselves with the opportunity to be an autonomous microcosm within the macrocosm of a brewpub, from Busser to Brewmaster; and also, to my own.  Grovestreet, long may your kegs be full, and your taps flowing.


-Domestic Anarchist

The Relation Between Marriage and Anarchy… OR puttin’ the FUN in Dysfunctional

The Husband and I met in July of 2006.  We married in December of 2008.  A few months back we celebrated our 3rd wedding anniversary.  so, it’s getting close to 6 years now we’ve known each other.  Earlier today we were talking about the hardships in life, and the value of experience and self-examination, being able to think freely about things without having mother culture dictate how we experience the events in our lives.  The experiences we go through can either strengthen or weaken us depending on our reactions and outlooks.  It was actually watching The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo {Extended Swedish Version} that inspired this conversation, but then I realized how this doesn’t just apply to a single person.

It also applies to relationships.  The trials and experiences the husband and I have gone through together make us stronger as a couple.  Sometimes we haven’t necessarily realized it at the time (as demonstrated by the numerous times we broke up before we got married, and then the almost year we spent separated after), but now we’re so very aware of how much we can survive.  From homelessness, custody battles, unemployment, madness, breakdowns, and deaths, not to mention all the horrible misadventures during our separation, and then a million little (and not so little) fights and arguments, there’s a multitude of things we’ve been through, and never fallen out of love.  The most important thing is probably that whether or not we get mad at each other, our personal anarchist principles mean that we allow each other the mistakes we make and the experiences we need. How do we support a marriage with anarchistic ideals?  How do we support our partners in the life experiences they’re going through, supporting them to strengthen, evolve and develop, and do so in their own way and manner, without neglecting our own needs?

It is a fine and complicated line we walk, but the line that gives us the individual strength and power to do what we need for ourselves, and at the same time, take care of eachother and our children.  We adjust and adapt to eachothers struggles and phases.  My depression and PTSD is a prime example.  The Husband did not enable me, but he was present, accepting, and loved me through everything.  Being with a woman who was suffering from extreme PTSD, anxiety and depression definitely required him to adjust and adapt, and being with him allowed me to process and experience the things I needed to, until I resolved my issues and became the (moreso at least) functional person I am today.  I want my husband to be happy, be the best he is, and be proud and secure in himself and his family.  But I cannot know the choices he should make in order to grow and evolve, he is the only one who can possibly know those things.

It’s a matter of not telling eachother how to live our lives, while still expressing honestly our experiences and perspectives.  With communication comes understanding (sometimes!) and with love comes acceptance.

I’ve known a lot of “dysfunctional” marriages in my life, and I’m sure from an outside perspective we’re definitely in that category.  Still, we are so happy.  With eachothers, our lives, our family and our marriage.  We do put the “fun” in dysfunctional, and we are probably the healthiest dysfunctional family I’ve ever known.

With love to my Husband, and our two wonderful children,


“Off My Chest”

I am so very ready for this year to be over.  Though I myself have made tremendous progress in this past year, and I believe The Husband has as well, it has been excruciating.  The concept I developed so many years ago of “forced evolution” has proven itself far more brutal than I realized.  I am no longer trying to throw myself into the arms of the universe, unworried of scars, but they keep coming.  My heart literally hurts and the losses I’ve experienced and the people I love have experienced are overwhelming.

The Husband is out of jail.  He is a free man, who has served his time, and has no further probation or legal pressures hanging over his head.  He was released early due to a family tragedy.

The Father-In-Law passed away.  …death is something I tend to touch with kid gloves, it cuts so deep.

I hurt, and the passing of the person who I accounted to be the closest thing I have to a father has brought up some shocking things for me.  The Husband, is of course, reeling.  I know it weighs on him.  I know he relives it over and over each day.  I know because I do, and my loss isn’t even comparable to his.

The Squid, has stopped mentioning him.  Stopped asking.  In fact, now she sort of pointedly avoids it.  I’m glad I’m in tune as I am with my kids and can see the moments when they hurt, since both of them have been hurt so much that now they push it aside.  I see The Squid’s head pick up and turn to the stairs in excitement, the second she hears the squeak of the door and the sound of someone whistling.  I also see it drop the second she realizes that it will not be her Pop-Pop.  Then I see her start to destroy things and whine immediately after.  The Wizard actually makes me a bit more worried, because he’s turned so far inward.  From all the craziness he’s lived in during his short life, and the excruciation of being torn between two families, his experience of pain is so disconnected.  …we all seem so disconnected from it.

It’s strange how we all don’t know how to say how badly it hurts.  This family is so accustomed to pain that we choke on it.  …I meant to say “choke it back”, but maybe this is more accurate.  Maybe we are just choking back our tears until we cannot breathe.

…I guess this is me trying to take a breath.


R.I.P. Big Sid

-Domestic Anarchist

Consequences of our Behavior

The Wizards hardcore sense of fairness continues to please and impress me.

Yesterday, I got to take the kids to the jail to visit The Husband, and then immediately had to drop them off with my dear sister Brette, who The Squid has taken to calling “Auntie Butt” which gives both me and The Wizard much entertainment.  However, I ended up doing decently well @ work (especially for not being on the schedule, which provided me with the opportunity to yell “I’m not even supposed to BE here today!” in an enjoyable homage to Kevin Smith), and so after I got off, I took the kids out for a rare eating-out type experience (fast food yes, but we need to find our highlights even while balls-deep in poverty, and 5 dollars for 2 burgers, fries and an ice cream cone cannot be complained about), in order to discuss their feelings about our visit, and have a nice chillaxing time.

Beforehand, we discussed how ice cream would be an option if everyone did a good job and was well behaved in the restaurant.  For The Squid, the most I can really ask is not climbing out of the booth and running around, and this was one of those running around kind of occasions.  Poor kid.  I never was angry with her, rough with her, or raise my voice, but we did discuss the fact that she had lost her ice cream opportunity.

The Wizard, who, having six years on The Squid, of course had a much better time managing his behavior, and was well aware that he was going to receive an ice cream cone for this.  However, he asked me if he would be allowed to share some of his cone with his sister, and let me know that if this was not an option, he would pass on the ice cream, because having an ice cream while his sister couldn’t have any violated his sense of fairness.  Is it strange that I’m pleased to be the mother of an eight year old communist?

I told him that his ice cream was his own and whatever he chose to do with it was up to him.  So he did share with his sister.  This might go against the common perception of “punishment”, but while I don’t tend to have a really big reward system for good behavior (other than letting my kids know that I’m proud of them), because I want my kids to know that good behavior is what is expected from them, my “punishments” tend to run much more along the lines of consequences.  I try for those consequences to be as natural as possible, but at the same time, there’s only so often that natural consequences even apply.  The most common consequence for The Wizard is a loss of video gaming privileges, or an occasional writing assignment when I feel like he really needs to take time and think about his behavior.  The Squid’s most common consequence is a time-out.

I also try to always take into account the circumstances surrounding my children.  This will not prevent them having consequences for their behavior, but it may gentle them.  The Squid, for example, is acting up a lot since her Dad-Dad’s incarceration.  Her potty-training came screeching to a halt.  She started having tantrums, and has even taken to using a pacifier occasionally.  However, even at the ripe old age of two, she needs to know that regardless of circumstances, she is still accountable for her behavior.  I feel for her.  It’s impossible to explain to her when her Dad-Dad is getting out, or why he’s gone.  She cannot understand why she only gets to see him through a little window one hour a week.  All she knows is that Dad-Dad is “in a big time out”.  I believe she understands it better than she can communicate, but it still is a difficult situation.

I do not agree with the legal system in this country (nor any other, as far as I know), but I believe the best way to keep my children from becoming involved with it one day, and to show them how to deal with it if they ever chance to become involved, is by teaching them accountability.  No matter how much we hate the figures of authority that come down upon us, the only way to be able to exist as sane individuals within the insane system of government, is accepting accountability for our choices.  If we make the choice to protest, we are accepting the possibilities of pepperspray, police brutality, and incarceration.  Does it make it fair or okay?  Of course not.

But that’s the way it is.  This is the world we live in.  If anyone is to change it, it will not be from fear or anger at our unjust punishment.  As unjust as it is, it is a possibility every day in this world, and we must be willing to accept the consequences of our behavior with our heads held high, and with a righteous disagreement.  I don’t have to agree with the fact that when I had 5 police officers beat the shit out of me in Santa Barbara I got charged with assaulting an officer.  But I do accept that I am the one who placed myself in a situation that brought about those consequences.  I wish we lived in a world without those consequences.  I believe someday we will.  But the only way that Anarchy will EVER work is if humanity is able to start personally, one by one, to accept their own accountability for the things that happen in our lives.

I have lead a devastating life.  I have been abused by countless people in pretty much every possible way.  My mind was twisted at an early age.  I am not responsible for the things I have suffered.  …I am accountable, however, for the person I am today.  Each day, we choose our own behavior.  Regardless of our circumstances.  We choose the risk, sometimes, of very negative consequences.  If you believe the risk is worth it though, you have already accepted accountability.  If you say, “I am aware of the things that could happen due to my behavior, but this is important enough to risk it.” you have accepted accountability.  No matter what comes of your behavior, you can hold your head high.

To everyone who has children, I encourage you to raise them with a sense of consequence and accountability, but respect their right to make their own choices.  Don’t be angry at your children for choosing something against your wishes.  Do make sure that they’re aware that there will be consequences for their choices.

To everyone without children, I encourage you to greet each day with a sense of accountability.  We are not victims.  We are warriors.  We make our own choices.  Each creature on this earth makes choices each day, and our consequences can vary.  As long as we believe in our choices, we have no reason to feel shame.

This post is dedicated to everyone who is being a strong voice in the Occupy Wall Street Movement.  Keep your heads up, and continue the fight within yourselves every second of the day.

-Domestic Anarchist

Housewife, no. Anarchist, yes. Domestic…? Trying.

Since my last post, I have moved into a new apartment, briefly separated from The Husband yet again (he got to go on a bit of a soul-searching experience himself, spending a couple months training for forest fire training, and doing flood relief in North Dakota), and made some absolutely horrible life decisions.  While we were separated, there was a tragic loss of a much loved friend.  I dealt with it poorly.  I also realized the pettiness of so many of our arguments, and I urge all of my readers to try as much as they can to set aside the petty things, the beef that will inevitably arise between all of us, because without a moments notice, people whose presence we’ve taken for granted can leave us.  Arguments we assumed would be resolved can be left hanging forever, without us ever having the chance to say how we feel.

After The Husband completed his venture, he returned home to me and the children, and I am still amazed by how well we’ve done since then.  We still, of course, have our petty arguments.  But we now have the knowledge of their pettiness, and that no matter what happens, our family and our friendship, comes first.

So, now my beloved Husband finds himself incarcerated (apparently, doing public services and working on personal growth isn’t acceptable reasoning to the municipal courts to leave state while on probation, nor is honesty in court appreciated.), and I find myself struggling to balance everything.

I have left my previous bartending job, and acquired a position at The Grove Street Brewhouse, our local neighborhood brewpub.  I like it a lot.  It fits much better with my mindset, and hopefully all will continue to go well there.  I love the idea of DIY beer, and plan to start my own batch at home sometime soon, and being surrounded by this business that is truly an effort of people who deeply love  the process and culture of brewing so much that they’ve built a life around it is inspirational.

Regardless of my contentment with my employment, I’m struggling financially, and have used my poverty as a silly, silly excuse to let my domestic tendencies slide.  Of course, the concept of poverty preventing domestic tendencies completely collides with everything I’ve ever said.  I’ve just been slacking.  This is something that I desperately need to get on top of in the next couple of months, since I plan to start school in winter Quarter, attending Evergreen State College in an attempt to acquire my bachelors degree in Social Anthropology.  Hopefully I won’t butt heads with too many trustafarian hippies.  …yeah, right.  We all know I will.

It will, however, keep me busy while waiting for The Husbands release.  But my goal now is to balance it all.  I have to balance a semblance of single-motherhood along with a fairly full work schedule and education… is it possible to continue to create a creative, encouraging, thought-provoking environment for my children?

I believe so.

Am I going to undertake the challenge?


Am I going to continue to log my socio-economic experiment in parenting while supporting an anarchist mindset?  …I shall at least thoroughly attempt!

Thank you for everyone who continues to read my staccato blogging.  This post is dedicated to my Husband, the love of my life, father to my children, a man who stands up honestly for what he thinks and could never be anyone other than himself.  My lover, my best friend, and the finest person I have ever known.

You are so fine to me, my love.  See you friday.

-Domestic Anarchist

Housewife No More

I know it’s been a wicked long time since updating has happened here.  So, here goes the backstory:

in September of 2010, I re-acquired some suppressed memories which required significant dealing with.  These memories at first shed a whole new light on my life and worldview, and then immediately buried me within a deep dark pit of cynicism.  They shook me to my core, and at the same time, allowed me to connect more thoroughly with myself than I ever have. My sense of myself as a survivor, as a woman of power and strength, battles frequently with the self-loathing that I know is unjustified but cannot help but rise during flashbacks.

I gutted my impressions of myself and started over from scratch, seeking to find myself as a person who was more than just a product of a corrupt and sick environment.  Every time I attempted to engage in activities I enjoyed, I found myself questioning and re-examining.

Do I still enjoy this?  Do I still agree with it?  From everything from political interests, to cooking.  From concerts, to video games.  Am I really this DIY feminist “suburban subversive” I had come to define myself as?

I find now my definitions to be less harsh, less desperate, less pleading.  My perspectives have changed in several ways, I no longer feel an imminent need to change the world, though I still have the instinct to live in it as though it will change.  I have accepted that even with my anarchism, I am very fond of technology, and have been enjoying touching back with that, roots I hadn’t really felt around with since I was probably about 13.  I still have stances about health, though my raging fear of carcinogens and all processed food has evened out a bit.

One of the most drastic changes was that in the process of gutting things and finding myself, I gutted my relationship.  The Husband was not prepared for the shocking and brutal tearing down of everything he knew about his wife, his marriage, and his home life and our marriage went on hiatus for more than six months.  This, naturally, put a rapid end to my experience of housewifery.  Which, along with the fact that The Husband took The Laptop, put my blogging also on hiatus.  I hopped around through a few different theories of employment, no longer really wanting the stress of teaching preschool, and the frustration of not being able to school crap parents on their crap parenting.  I was briefly a grill chef, and then I was a waitress at a 50’s diner and pho restraunt.

I’ve now settled quite happily into a bartending position, which, aside from the mixology, is actually not much different than teaching preschool, but a lot easier to leave behind me when I leave work.  The availability of a shift shot when I get off also eases this transition.

So, now you see my quandry.  If I’m no longer being a housewife, and this blog was formed to document the fascinating situation of  a feminist woman finding herself in the position of being a housewife, should the blogging continue?  What will I blog about?  However, I am still an anarchist, and I am still quite domestic, though my domesticity has gone through some changes.  I find myself being more feminine, though it’s still quite tongue in cheek.  I’m still opinionated, though less fanatical, and I’m less angry.

The Husband and I are still working through our issues, though our time apart let us come much closer together, a time filled with mistakes on both sides, which forced us to admit our own humanity, our need for compromise, and our love for each other, that through all the changes, failures and growth, has not dissipated, no matter how much we tried to make it.

It’ll probably be about a month before I update again, the changes in our lives have forced us to admit we are living above our means, and we’re working on moving into town, selling our car, and trying to consolidate our possessions from a 3 bedroom apartment and large storage shed into a two bedroom loft.  I am looking forward to the ease of commute, and also having a smaller area in which to be domestic, with the decreased time I have to be so.  I shall update again though, just thought I’d let my small following know that I am in fact still alive and kicking.

-Domestic Anarchist