We Spend Our Lives Doing TWO things: Becoming and Dying…

I know this sounds bleak in a title, but it really isn’t. It isn’t fatalistic either.  Is it just possible that we spend so much time trying to work on others that we forget where our focus really SHOULD be? I think so. That is why I opt for brutal honesty. I know I can’t change a damned thing about the past or the future because those are two things I cannot control, but I can control how I react when put in a certain spot.

I nearly got killed tonight. No kidding. Some bonehead decided to slam his brake when NOTHING was in front of his vehicle. My son was driving and we were going the speed limit (75 mph). He swerved to the right and fish-tailed.  “Ease up on the brake and stay calm.” Shit! I don’t know how that came out of my mouth, but it did. He swerved again to the right and fish-tailed again, then over corrected. This resulted in being spun around across the freeway and landing in the median. He tried to start the car and it wouldn’t start. “Brian, put it in park.” Once he did, it ran fine. No damage to the vehicle and more importantly none to us or my dog!

I don’t know HOW I managed to stay calm during that crap, but I was shook up when it was over. I said, “Let’s get the hell out of this ditch and go home!” and we did.  It was a miracle that he didn’t hit another vehicle, and more importantly, that we are alive.  He was laughing a few minutes later, and made a comment about reliving “Too Fast and Too Furious”…

I looked at him and said, “Brian, that is not funny to me.”  I think he was just grateful that we were alive and that is how he handled being shook up.

Either way it could have turned out very differently.  Brian and I are working hard on improving from within, and then this happens. It just goes to show that in an instant, the world can be changed for our loved ones. When we got to Kevin’s house (my other son), I gave him his birthday presents and hugged my daughter-in-law and my son. I held onto my grandson for a bit as well.  Let’s just say it gave me a new perspective on things this time of year, but  in the end, are we not all born to die?

Better yet, didn’t Beckett describe it best?, “…We are all born astride a grave…”?

I’d rather die working on the person I’m trying to become, than to regret the person who is now dead that is my past being,  OR  meet my future being who might be a bit more cranky than this particular incarnation of me in the present…

And how was your weekend?

 

We Aren’t Born Free…Women, ‘Tis All An Illusion (or Bullshit)….

Warning: This post contains adult language. If you are an adult, then you’ll have to deal with it (mostly the word “bullshit”). Once again, I’ve gotten into an all time, funk–aka one of my bullshit moods. It is within this realm that anything might emit from my pen or keyboard–and this is not  (pause here)  “The Twilight Zone” so even I do go off into left field on this particular venting session, it is hopefully a lapse into a temporary case of posterior cranial rectumitis…If so, I’ll be back to my normal bright and bouncy self in a few days, hopping around like Tigger on steroids…Maybe it would sound like this–then again, maybe not… 😉  By the way both the sped up and slowed down versions are on here!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rek6ZL9tHYk

We begin in confinement.  We begin in a very small place, that adjusts with us as we grow.  We wait to break free,  It is warm, solitary and quiet there, and then we’re sent into another form of confinement–with strange voices, bright as hell lights and we freeze our ass off until we’re sent to our new quarters. No one understands us there either, so they learn to communicate with us by trial and error, and as we haven’t yet realized that we are as humans truly born astride a grave (as Beckett says), they eventually learn to interpret what certain cries mean and such… We are then confined in a home, sometimes full of love, sometimes not. That depends on those charged with protecting and guarding over us.  Some shield us from the fighting and such. Others take no thought at harming us by acting out their anger.  Others actually love and care for one another, so the confinement seems more like a safe, secure place with perks and such…That is, until we assert our own individuality. God forbid we do that!

We have to be carbon copies and if not, all the arrows become pointed at us:  “I didn’t raise you to be that way!”, “You should never have had that kid!”, or better yet, “I don’t care what your parents say, I’m all you’ve got and you’ll damned well do what I want you to do!”  That last line did not work very well with one of the matrons my dad brought home either. That was when the riot began.  It was more like a strike.  Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose and sometimes winning doesn’t seem worth it in the end.  In my case, I still question it.  However the fourteen year old I was, who had to endure much torture in that cell, didn’t–at least not until well after she was grown.

Then more of those “what if’s” crept in to antagonize her a bit… Those “what if’s” from our past are only pictures of former cells we were locked into, but if we have a place to escape to, even if for a little while, the cells we spend our lives in and out of are much more bearable. I for one, am glad that I am getting older. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I sure as hell don’t want to see what this world is going to be in the next 50 years.  Why? It will only get worse. People become more selfish with each passing generation and want to control everyone around them–thus making neighborhoods and such “mini-prisons” all in the name of what they hold to be “valuable” and it is not always their property, but they are really trying to force their way of life on other people. It really is to the point that where when someone says to me, “We are born free…” I strongly object to that.  We are not free when rules and such of one segment of society are forced upon the rest. I find it ironic that we have to fight to maintain our individuality as artists and such because someone says, “Oh…this is what is marketable.” OR “That is what is correct to say.”  That’s bullshit.  It is what they want to market to keep others from exercising critical thinking skills.

They have conformed and they want the audience to conform to their own way of thinking, and that is manipulation, which I also feel is bullshit. Quite frankly, this whole idea of the “world community/village” is bullshit.  There will always be leaders fighting and arguing over who will control this bitch of an orb, and if people are dumb enough to allow it, then it is their own fault when their children and grandchildren suffer for their lack of foresight.  It is always about what people and their leaders want HERE AND NOW and that is where the problem lies. This world is so riddled with problems and complications it cannot be corrected in OUR lifetime so what have we done? Passed the bullshit on to our children and grandchildren to deal with. Welcome to the world, where we aren’t born free…and probably never will be again. THAT is what the media fails to tell you all.  And hopefully tomorrow, I’ll be my bright and cheery self again and will be proven wrong, but it may take a week…Or two…or three. I just really got peeved at this article below and it set off a chain reaction in me…As a woman, this is only a reminder to what I feel is true, at least tonight…Here’s your “war on women“, Alice

http://jezebel.com/yale-officially-declares-nonconsensual-sex-not-that-b-988475927 And a lot of our leaders have come from that University…That should really piss you off.

And I do like the one below!

 

Touchy Topic…True Story…Food for Thought…When Educators are the Bullies…

It was 1978…I was a kid who was going through hell at home.  I was abused…I won’t go into every little detail, but my stepmother’s favorite mode of discipline when I was a child was to pick me up and throw me into a cabinet or up against the wall–if she wasn’t waiving a gun at my head…While my classmates enjoyed slumber parties, discovered the opposite sex and enjoyed some normal teen-aged fun–I spent my days and many nights hiding in my room and watching old movies or reading books–even after Judy’s death.

Some of what I write is through a character called “Kit”.  She’s merely a facsimile of what I might have been, or am depending on any given day of the week.  While my father turned more to his alcohol, and other family members only sought an escape, I followed suit and my pen became my weapon against all evil entities foreign and domestic.  I killed off more characters who did horrible things than Dexter–most likely, so I guess you could say I was a “serial slasher with a pen”.  It is through these writings that I ended up in a counselor’s office at the age of 15.  They really thought that rather than the escape vehicle my writing was, that I was actually planning to harm myself for some strange reason.  I think it had more to do with the fact that my stepmother killed herself and my writing became darker with each passing moment.

However this is about a Monday morning in September when I came back to school after her having been buried a few days prior.  The whole town knew that she shot herself.  I was sleeping with the lights on, still not believing that my chief abuser/warden was gone.  It was worsened by the fact that my father left me to my own devices for the most part.  The alcohol became the next woman in his life for some time. Before I get into this, I just want to say that in the present, if a teacher does this, he or she can lose their license for it.  I found out today that I was vindicated when I found out through a classmate that the teacher who was so cruel (a coach) was fired on the football field not too long after this incident.

I remember walking through the halls that Monday morning…Even some of the kids that picked on me were nice to me.  “I am sorry, Tina.” they’d say.  Or “If you need anything, my mother said you can come to our house.” etc..Everything seemed okay.  I avoided writing in my journal and the teacher, Mrs. Eaves was okay with that.  She understood that I just wanted to read that day.  I remember what I was reading too…I was reading “Silas Marner“…George Eliot–not my usual Edgar Allen Poe or Samuel Beckett fare.  I dreaded going to Biology class because HE was going to be there.  This teacher was a pure asshole.  He singled students out daily and humiliated them.  He picked on the ones that had long hair.  We felt more like marine recruits than students in his charge.  This incident would be the first nail in the coffin for him.

I walked into the room and sat at the desk where I usually went in the back of the room…He always gave me bullshit before–along with a few other students, but this was not the day he wanted to do that–only he didn’t realize that yet.  Somehow, one of the new kids (who truly didn’t realize who I am) asked about suicide and why people do that.  I was livid.  This is not what I wanted to hear at all.  Somehow that student got to ask why women do that when the coach commented, “Women don’t usually go around shooting themselves because they don’t want to mess up their looks.”  The class became quiet and those who knew me turned and look back at me.  I stood up.  I heard one of my classmates say “Holy shit! He’ll kill her…”

“O’Neill what do you think you’re doing?  Sit back down.” he said to me.

“Go to hell.” I said as I headed for the door.  I left my books and everything on the desk.  He tried to grab my arm and was yelling something, but for the first time, I pulled away and ran–not walked–RAN to the office.  I slammed the door behind me and they instantly  knew something was wrong.  I wasn’t crying either. I wanted to, for the first time, really bitch slap that man.  I was seething with rage. The principal called me into the office and he and the counselor calmed me down.  They called my Dad.  Once I calmed down they asked me what happened.  “I will never go back to that class.” I told them.  They asked why.  I told him everything that this coach had said.  They had my books brought to the office.  When my dad showed up, they had him take me home and told him that I could stay home for a few days with no penalty while they straightened things out.

They talked to my dad for a long time after I went back into the waiting area and sat down.  I remember Dad saying something like, “You should have reported him a long time ago for talking to you kids like that.  He has no right.”  All I said was, “He is the teacher and isn’t he ALWAYS right?”   “No. He isn’t. And you’re going into a different class next week but I’m keeping you home for a few more days.” he told me.  I went into my room, closed my door and THEN cried a bit.  I didn’t want to let anyone see me like that–devastated…

I went back to school that Friday.  They had that coach in the office.  “Tina, I’m sorry.  I had been out-of-town for a week and I really didn’t know what happened.”  My response, “You’re a liar.  You are mean to us all every day and you treat us like crap.  Everyone in town knew so you can’t tell me you never got a phone call or a note in your box. I’m not stupid.  That was the last straw and if they put me back in your class, I’m dropping out.”  He then said, “Tina I really am sorry.  I really didn’t know–”  I said something like  “Take it up with God.  Maybe he’ll believe it but not me. I’m not God.”

Nobody said anything after he went back to his classroom, but I was quickly put into a different class.  Another teacher told me she really understood how I felt, but he really wasn’t told about it.   That just told me someone dropped the ball.   He got fired on the football field as well later on.  Evidently he never learned anything from what he did to me.  The remark about suicide wasn’t the first time he picked on any of us.  Any of us could have fit into “The Breakfast Club“.  I was the Ally Sheedy character…Jimmy was the Judd Nelson character…I could go on…If he wasn’t picking on someone for their weight, it was their hair…If it wasn’t how they dressed, it was how they spoke or read…In short, this guy was a pure asshole.

All I want to point out here is that if a teacher bullies a student or group of students, there should be no “probation”.  This is abuse and they should immediately lose their license for it the first time they are caught doing it.  This stuff still goes on…I’ve seen teachers tell other students, “Don’t say something to (Insert a student name here) because he/she will run back and tell Mommy and we’ll all get into trouble~!” AFTER said teacher had been verbally abusing other students and gotten reported for it several times so where does the “we” come into it?  I’ll tell you.  That teacher is trying to gain a following–just like gang leaders and wannabes in prison do.  I saw this behavior first hand when working in corrections.  This is what offenders do to incite others to be cruel to offenders that will not fall into their game or do as they want.  Kids have been bullied at school as a result of the manipulation by these educators–especially if the teacher in question “rewards” those who “support” him or her with free time or something…Seriously!

Schools should not be prisons and teachers should not be teaching students how to be “offenders” in a correctional setting.  Teachers who engage in this type of behavior are as low as some of the people I had to deal with as a correctional sergeant and not all of them were offenders either.  Thank you.  I’ve gotten that off of my chest.  If you know of a teacher who does this, report it.  If you are a teacher and you witness this–don’t be afraid to do the right thing because ignoring it makes you party to it.  There shouldn’t be a “code of silence” when kids are suffering at the hands of such incompetent educators.  And as for administrators that back these abusers up rather than do their job, fire them on the spot right along with teacher that overstepped his/her bounds.