(I'm so mad that I haven't edited this yet--there are grammatical errors, I'm sure.)
I have never quite understood people who think that the citizens of the United States aren't helping the less fortunate in our own country. Lately on Facebook there has been a lot of chatter going around that people are mad about the telethon for donations to the earthquake victim in Haiti. Those same people think that money should be going to people in the United State, who are mentally ill, poor, or otherwise unfortunate.
I hate those people who question the kindness of Americans to give their OWN money to Haiti.
Why? Well, it's simple: even the poorest-of-poor American has a better quality of life than most average Joe's in other countries. As a super-power the United States has a responsibility to help those nations, even though many of those nations CAN NOT reciprocate when we have a disaster. Nor--by-and-by--would we ask them to reciprocate, because WE have the means to help ourselves. Note: The telethon did not raise money for the United States to give away, it raised money for the people of Haiti from UNITED STATES CITIZENS.
Someone on FB brought up that there are children going hungry in the United States. You're right, there are. And, I'll be the first to admit that the recession and unemployment rates have sucked up a lot of America's reserves of money and resources. But, here's the thing: there are still avenues out there from which those children could get food. Schools give out free meals for lunch for families that qualify (and if they don't qualify--most schools WILL FIND A WAY to have the child fed). In addition, food banks have started to give out food at some schools--or at least identify families that need help--so no child goes to bed without food in their stomachs.
You're probably wondering how I know this, right? Well, even though I work for a private, Catholic high school, my school has a lot of at-risk students who we admit at reduced-rate tuition (which is why I get paid peanuts compared to other high schools I could be teaching at), and we help identify those families, and get food to them. In addition, we have a pubic elementary and middle school right across the road that we work with; so, yes, I know many of the ropes.
More importantly, those food banks heavily rely on donations from everyday citizens to keep running. And, I know from our twice-yearly can drives (and clothing drives) at school that there are a lot of people willing to help the less fortunate--and they do! Our last can drive had over 2,300 food donations in the morning--not counting what came in later during the day. There was a huge turkey drive as well--but I don't recall those numbers. Yet, this is just one way that the government does not help.
As for the mentally ill, I understand that it seems a lot of people don't get help. However, you can't help someone who doesn't want it. In my experience, I couldn't receive help for my PTSD or depression--which I still struggle with every day--until I wanted it. And, I was not turned away when I needed help. Even if I hadn't been a student on campus when I needed help, I could have gone to counseling for a much reduced cost. I can't remember if they had free options or not, but I know each session would have cost less than a movie each week.
And, to counteract anyone who claims that the recession has really cut into their budget and the above isn't possible, I know your pain.
A few years ago I went without health insurance for over a year. I tried to keep myself healthy, but lo-and-behold I ended up with and abscess on my tooth. I think I said FUCK about 20,000 times, for the following reasons: 1.) root canals are expensive 2.) I was at a new dentist (the one I go to now) because I was far from home. I had no idea what to expect at this new dentist, but I got up all of the nerve I could muster and told them about my situation. And, a compromise was planned. They would do the root canal, but would NOT put a crown on my tooth until I had insurance (about a year later) unless another emergency arose. Moreover, they offered a a 30-day, 60-day and 90-day payment option, or I could apply for even more. I was able to pay within the 30-days, but the offer was nice.
However, none of it would have been possible if I hadn't asked for options. And, because I'm like family at my dentist office now, I hear A LOT. They were telling me one day that they had an elderly gentleman who needed new dentures, and they were going to take a hit on his case because they knew he needed them. THEY WERE GIVING UP THEIR OWN MONEY.
And, don't forget about family services, welfare, food stamps and other government resources that are available to American families at government rates.
In addition, in every big city I've lived in or next to, there's some type of homeless shelter that opens its doors to everyone seeking help. However, a person must SEEK help to get help.
Thus, I wonder how many Americans ask about options before bitching that America does nothing for her own people who are suffering.
The people of Haiti are so devastated that they have no one to ask for help in their own country. There are no resources, there are no outlets.
So, to those Facebookers who think Americans are spending money the wrong way, I say: Sit on your privileged finger and spin.
Showing posts with label Over analyzing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Over analyzing. Show all posts
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Friday, December 25, 2009
Merry Christmas 2009
Merry Christmas! Even though we're snowed in at our house in Omaha, Jeff and I decided to make the best of it. We each opened a gift (as you an see on the right, Jeff wraps SO well, LOL), and watched movies. Around 10:30 we played One vs. the Mob on the XBox 360. Jeff said he wanted to stay up for a bit, but I went to bed around midnight. And, it's a good thing I did!
Santa Claus came sometime after I went to bed! He brought me an Wii Fit, which is good, because since I threw my back out I've been jonesing for some yoga.
Although we're making the best of it, it's still sad to not be in Iowa for the holidays with my family. It's the one time of year we stay overnight there, so it's always special. But, anyway, the bottom picture on the right shows why we couldn't go: we've been in a Blizzard Warning since 6 p.m. Christmas Eve, and a Winter Storm Warning since 6 a.m. Christmas Eve morning. We already have 4 foot drifts everywhere (some higher!), and 20 hours left of this storm.
Unfortunately, the track of the storm changed, so we're in for even more snow. They're now saying we could get 18 inches. I think I liked it more when we were in the 9-12 inch range.
And, we have learned a lesson, Jeff will be taking two days of vacation around the holidays from now on.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ONE AND ALL!
Friday, July 25, 2008
The Answer is Blowing in the Wind
Randy Pausch has died. At 47.
Like other people, I found out about Pausch through his You Tube "last lecture." After viewing the first 10 minutes of it, I was hooked, mainly because he said "you can tell the nerds early," regarding his goal to write a encyclopedia entry.
As a fellow educator (and fellow nerd), I felt that he embodied everything that educators should be... funny, supportive, intelligent, fair, hard working and polite. I wish I could be more like him.
For the world to have lost such a wonderful person... a person who inspires you to be better...is a travesty.
I can't put into words how much his lecture changed the way I thought. How it made me feel accepted...kind of like the way I felt when I went to grad school.
It was good to know there are other people out there who think like you...
And, it's good to know there are those out there that you strive to be like.
My hope is that his life lessons are not lost, but endeared.
Like other people, I found out about Pausch through his You Tube "last lecture." After viewing the first 10 minutes of it, I was hooked, mainly because he said "you can tell the nerds early," regarding his goal to write a encyclopedia entry.
As a fellow educator (and fellow nerd), I felt that he embodied everything that educators should be... funny, supportive, intelligent, fair, hard working and polite. I wish I could be more like him.
For the world to have lost such a wonderful person... a person who inspires you to be better...is a travesty.
I can't put into words how much his lecture changed the way I thought. How it made me feel accepted...kind of like the way I felt when I went to grad school.
It was good to know there are other people out there who think like you...
And, it's good to know there are those out there that you strive to be like.
My hope is that his life lessons are not lost, but endeared.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Things I Don't Care About
I'm working on a yearbook deadline, which I guess I technically will miss at the close of business today. Oh well...I suppose I should get motivated.
I haven't been motivated to do anything lately. In fact, I've been going through some nasty insomnia and depression feelings. Why? I'm not quite sure, but I think the aforementioned deadlines have something to do with it.
I used to love deadlines, but only when I know exactly what I'm doing. Being a first-year instructor on the yearbook and teaching freshman leaves me without knowing 3/4 of the student body. That sucks. Also, having to spend 1/2 the year finishing last year's yearbook has left me drained on this one.
I also need to get all of my personal pictures downloaded to the computer and put up on MySpace and Facebook for all of your viewing pleasures. There are some funny stories regarding bison that hate my driving.
Other pictures include me running on the beach on the 4th of July. We decided to have a picnic with my brothers and my parents back in Iowa at the local county park--where my youngest brother works. We met for lunch, and then hiked around the park. I took a couple of artsy pictures, but nothing I would consider to be life changing.
Other than that, I'm avoiding MySpace and Facebook like the plague. A couple of high school classmates have found me on those sites and I, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, decided to add them. This has been a challenge, because I don't really talk to anyone from high school, nor do I want them to know anything about my life.
Many of my classmates were self-absorbed, spoiled kids, whose parents grew up in the same town we lived. Thus, since my parents grew up outside of the tiny 500-person town, and we moved there when I was 3, I was an outsider. It didn't help that teachers would often think I was dumb because I didn't have the same last name as 1/2 the other kids at school. I was teased a lot because I liked to read, was clumsy and of course, was chubby. It wasn't until my 6th grade teacher (who didn't give a shit about generational heritage) that I finally started to see some light at the end of the tunnel.
That teacher, Mr. P., put me in the challenging reading groups and had me work on my math skills until I was in the top of that as well. The previous two years of being ignored by the worst teacher ever, had finally been vindicated. I was doing better than most of the kids whose parents grew up in the system--and in only 1/2 a year. Suckers.
Junior high and high school were very easy for me, if not too easy. I never studied, and rarely did homework (except algebra and geometry), which in retrospect was dumb. Even though I graduated with honors, I could have done so much better. But, I was bored and found reading books or writing stories to be much more fun.
But, alas, I didn't have any close friends. I had three or four that I talked to, and hung out with a lot, but none that shared my interests or hobbies. I had a couple of friends in my Odyssey of the Mind group, and Tonya and I have stayed good friends, but she was a year younger than me in school. I also had a few friends from 4-H, but one was 5 years older than me, the other 1 year younger. Also, woodworking and cooking don't always make your friends knock down your door wanting to talk.
I felt alone a lot, caused by my hobbies. But, I don't regret it. I enjoyed working on antique furniture, reading and cooking. It's enhanced my abilities as a writer and storyteller, not to mention it's taught me patience.
Additionally, I've learned to be ambitious. I always knew I would get out of that 500-person town, and go somewhere else.
Did I know I would end up as a teacher with a master's degree in English? NO. I was a political science and drama major my first year of college, and then I met a couple of English professors who changed my mind.
I finally realized that writing/teaching could be a viable life choice. It was like a light turned on in my head and it felt right. I had found the right career--something I had been doing pretty much my entire life, alone.
There's also an air of mysteriousness that I like to create.
One of the two classmate I still talk to I saw at my wedding a couple weeks ago, the other I see on occasion at special events back home. Of course, neither one of those classmates were the ones to add me on MySpace or Facebook.
I'm a very private person in real life. Writing is a totally different experience for me, because it's how I express myself best. Ask my husband; I get tongue-tied when I try to talk about my feelings. But, writing about feelings comes easy--it's a release and I can always delete a sentence if I don't like the way it comes out. It's what I consider a bleep-button for verbal-diarrhea. Anyway, instead of all of my posts on MySpace, I may actually begin to use blogger again.
I am supposed to have a 10-year high school class reunion sometime this month. What day? I'm not sure. The post card, which was mailed to my parent's house, didn't have a date. Instead, it had a time, place (2 bars nonetheless) and an email address for questions. HA! Out of pure, unadulterated facetiousness, I thought about emailing the contact person about the date, but then realized that would corner me into a position of "are you going?"
I don't think they would appreciate a, "HELL NO."
Part of the reason I don't want to go is because I'm proud of the accomplishments I've made for myself. By myself. Earning a BA with a 3.5 GPA, a MA with a 3.8 GPA and reading papers at 2 different conferences. I accomplished more in those two years at graduate school than some professors do in 5 years.
But, in reality, that's not good enough for me--for someone who was once ostracized because her parents didn't grow up in the same town. I want to be at the top of the chain, earning my Ph.D. and living somewhere other than the mid-west. I suppose I'll always be self-conscious because of my adolescent experiences.
The other part is that I really don't care about my classmates, but I did consider going to check out their lives. I've heard rumors that some are now living train-wrecks. I would hate to laugh in their faces.
I guess I do care about them more than I should.
I haven't been motivated to do anything lately. In fact, I've been going through some nasty insomnia and depression feelings. Why? I'm not quite sure, but I think the aforementioned deadlines have something to do with it.
I used to love deadlines, but only when I know exactly what I'm doing. Being a first-year instructor on the yearbook and teaching freshman leaves me without knowing 3/4 of the student body. That sucks. Also, having to spend 1/2 the year finishing last year's yearbook has left me drained on this one.
I also need to get all of my personal pictures downloaded to the computer and put up on MySpace and Facebook for all of your viewing pleasures. There are some funny stories regarding bison that hate my driving.
Other pictures include me running on the beach on the 4th of July. We decided to have a picnic with my brothers and my parents back in Iowa at the local county park--where my youngest brother works. We met for lunch, and then hiked around the park. I took a couple of artsy pictures, but nothing I would consider to be life changing.
Other than that, I'm avoiding MySpace and Facebook like the plague. A couple of high school classmates have found me on those sites and I, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, decided to add them. This has been a challenge, because I don't really talk to anyone from high school, nor do I want them to know anything about my life.
Many of my classmates were self-absorbed, spoiled kids, whose parents grew up in the same town we lived. Thus, since my parents grew up outside of the tiny 500-person town, and we moved there when I was 3, I was an outsider. It didn't help that teachers would often think I was dumb because I didn't have the same last name as 1/2 the other kids at school. I was teased a lot because I liked to read, was clumsy and of course, was chubby. It wasn't until my 6th grade teacher (who didn't give a shit about generational heritage) that I finally started to see some light at the end of the tunnel.
That teacher, Mr. P., put me in the challenging reading groups and had me work on my math skills until I was in the top of that as well. The previous two years of being ignored by the worst teacher ever, had finally been vindicated. I was doing better than most of the kids whose parents grew up in the system--and in only 1/2 a year. Suckers.
Junior high and high school were very easy for me, if not too easy. I never studied, and rarely did homework (except algebra and geometry), which in retrospect was dumb. Even though I graduated with honors, I could have done so much better. But, I was bored and found reading books or writing stories to be much more fun.
But, alas, I didn't have any close friends. I had three or four that I talked to, and hung out with a lot, but none that shared my interests or hobbies. I had a couple of friends in my Odyssey of the Mind group, and Tonya and I have stayed good friends, but she was a year younger than me in school. I also had a few friends from 4-H, but one was 5 years older than me, the other 1 year younger. Also, woodworking and cooking don't always make your friends knock down your door wanting to talk.
I felt alone a lot, caused by my hobbies. But, I don't regret it. I enjoyed working on antique furniture, reading and cooking. It's enhanced my abilities as a writer and storyteller, not to mention it's taught me patience.
Additionally, I've learned to be ambitious. I always knew I would get out of that 500-person town, and go somewhere else.
Did I know I would end up as a teacher with a master's degree in English? NO. I was a political science and drama major my first year of college, and then I met a couple of English professors who changed my mind.
I finally realized that writing/teaching could be a viable life choice. It was like a light turned on in my head and it felt right. I had found the right career--something I had been doing pretty much my entire life, alone.
There's also an air of mysteriousness that I like to create.
One of the two classmate I still talk to I saw at my wedding a couple weeks ago, the other I see on occasion at special events back home. Of course, neither one of those classmates were the ones to add me on MySpace or Facebook.
I'm a very private person in real life. Writing is a totally different experience for me, because it's how I express myself best. Ask my husband; I get tongue-tied when I try to talk about my feelings. But, writing about feelings comes easy--it's a release and I can always delete a sentence if I don't like the way it comes out. It's what I consider a bleep-button for verbal-diarrhea. Anyway, instead of all of my posts on MySpace, I may actually begin to use blogger again.
I am supposed to have a 10-year high school class reunion sometime this month. What day? I'm not sure. The post card, which was mailed to my parent's house, didn't have a date. Instead, it had a time, place (2 bars nonetheless) and an email address for questions. HA! Out of pure, unadulterated facetiousness, I thought about emailing the contact person about the date, but then realized that would corner me into a position of "are you going?"
I don't think they would appreciate a, "HELL NO."
Part of the reason I don't want to go is because I'm proud of the accomplishments I've made for myself. By myself. Earning a BA with a 3.5 GPA, a MA with a 3.8 GPA and reading papers at 2 different conferences. I accomplished more in those two years at graduate school than some professors do in 5 years.
But, in reality, that's not good enough for me--for someone who was once ostracized because her parents didn't grow up in the same town. I want to be at the top of the chain, earning my Ph.D. and living somewhere other than the mid-west. I suppose I'll always be self-conscious because of my adolescent experiences.
The other part is that I really don't care about my classmates, but I did consider going to check out their lives. I've heard rumors that some are now living train-wrecks. I would hate to laugh in their faces.
I guess I do care about them more than I should.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The Past Week in Review
So...it's been a pretty shitty week.
One week ago today as I was driving home from work (around 12:30) my car broke down on Sorensen Parkway. In fact, broke down isn't quite right, because I couldn't steer! The Power Steering fluid thingy broke because of a loose tension thingy with the serpentine belt and the belt came off and broke the power steering thingy and some other stuff. Oh, and plus, the car had a broken something-or-other that needed to be fixed as well. Can't you tell I'm a whiz-kid with cars?!
Fuck that car.
Once again, I spent over $1,000 on that fricking thing. I HATE Pontiac's...but for totally different reasons than Rebecca Lynn Howard.
Even as much as I bitch, I have to say that I got off easy. That very same day I had inklings to go to Westroads Mall. I guess I'm glad the car broke down after all. May God's Blessing be with those families of the Westroads massacre victims.
It's still hard to imagine what happened at the mall. Because of the shitty weather and other appointments I've had, we didn't make it to the mall this weekend to hang up our snowflakes.
We've had 3 major snowfalls since last Wednesday, plus a Christmas party and this is the last teaching week we have (next week is finals). I want to pay my respects, but, I'm sure I'll make it out there sometime soon.
I guess what's so weird is that I KNOW that mall. I've been there hundreds of times and always felt safe. In fact, that's probably why we liked that mall so much was because of how safe it felt.
Besides, doesn't this type of thing happen in the movies? Or...some place other than Omaha?! Other than home?!
One week ago today as I was driving home from work (around 12:30) my car broke down on Sorensen Parkway. In fact, broke down isn't quite right, because I couldn't steer! The Power Steering fluid thingy broke because of a loose tension thingy with the serpentine belt and the belt came off and broke the power steering thingy and some other stuff. Oh, and plus, the car had a broken something-or-other that needed to be fixed as well. Can't you tell I'm a whiz-kid with cars?!
Fuck that car.
Once again, I spent over $1,000 on that fricking thing. I HATE Pontiac's...but for totally different reasons than Rebecca Lynn Howard.
Even as much as I bitch, I have to say that I got off easy. That very same day I had inklings to go to Westroads Mall. I guess I'm glad the car broke down after all. May God's Blessing be with those families of the Westroads massacre victims.
It's still hard to imagine what happened at the mall. Because of the shitty weather and other appointments I've had, we didn't make it to the mall this weekend to hang up our snowflakes.
We've had 3 major snowfalls since last Wednesday, plus a Christmas party and this is the last teaching week we have (next week is finals). I want to pay my respects, but, I'm sure I'll make it out there sometime soon.
I guess what's so weird is that I KNOW that mall. I've been there hundreds of times and always felt safe. In fact, that's probably why we liked that mall so much was because of how safe it felt.
Besides, doesn't this type of thing happen in the movies? Or...some place other than Omaha?! Other than home?!
Thursday, October 04, 2007
It All Started with Cleaning the Toilet
I'm somewhat OCD about handwashing (ok, I'm really OCD about handwashing). So, today as I finally got around to cleaning the bathroom I accidentally spilled some toilet bowl cleaner on my finger...just a drop.
I rinsed my hand and then used some antibacterial soap, some more antibacterial soap and some Germ X. I thought I had covered all bases, but decided to read the back of the label on the cleaner for shits and giggles. Did you know that you're supposed to call the POISON CONTROL CENTER even if some toilet bowl cleaner gets on your hands? WTF?
I called my own personal poison control center (who is way more used to these phone calls than she should be), my mother. After calming me down she said that I wasn't going to die a slow, painful death. No, sirree, I was going to be ok. And, just to prove it, she told me she spills a little on her foot everytime she cleans the toilet.
Great, now I know why I'm so different than any other kid; my mom spills toilet bowl cleaner on her foot.
So, anything that's wrong with me? My mom spills toilet bowl cleaner on her foot.
Think you're better than me? My mom spills toilet bowl cleaner on her foot.
Think you're smarter than me? My mom spills toilet bowl cleaner on her foot.
I rinsed my hand and then used some antibacterial soap, some more antibacterial soap and some Germ X. I thought I had covered all bases, but decided to read the back of the label on the cleaner for shits and giggles. Did you know that you're supposed to call the POISON CONTROL CENTER even if some toilet bowl cleaner gets on your hands? WTF?
I called my own personal poison control center (who is way more used to these phone calls than she should be), my mother. After calming me down she said that I wasn't going to die a slow, painful death. No, sirree, I was going to be ok. And, just to prove it, she told me she spills a little on her foot everytime she cleans the toilet.
Great, now I know why I'm so different than any other kid; my mom spills toilet bowl cleaner on her foot.
So, anything that's wrong with me? My mom spills toilet bowl cleaner on her foot.
Think you're better than me? My mom spills toilet bowl cleaner on her foot.
Think you're smarter than me? My mom spills toilet bowl cleaner on her foot.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
The Cheese Ball Up My Nose
The way I understand it, there are 6 sides to every story.
The way you see it, the way you want to see it and the way you think others see it.
Thus, between a writer and her reader, there's a lot of friggin' people. The reason I say this is because I've been toying with the idea to send in a story of mine to be published.
However, everyone always says there are only 2 sides to a story. But, there's not. I can't get over that fact. What I write can be miscontrued for any number of reasons. So, I have to ask myself, am I ready for the criticism?
Being a student, I was used to it, but I never really looked at a paper when I got it back from a professor. In fact, one of my professors held me back after class one night to give me a "pep talk" regarding my work ethic. I had an A in the class...I kept the A in the class.
Did I listen to her? Nope. I kept on doing what I was doing.
I wonder if criticized for a creative story if I'll continue down the same path, or if I'll change the way I write?
Thus, I ponder.
The way you see it, the way you want to see it and the way you think others see it.
Thus, between a writer and her reader, there's a lot of friggin' people. The reason I say this is because I've been toying with the idea to send in a story of mine to be published.
However, everyone always says there are only 2 sides to a story. But, there's not. I can't get over that fact. What I write can be miscontrued for any number of reasons. So, I have to ask myself, am I ready for the criticism?
Being a student, I was used to it, but I never really looked at a paper when I got it back from a professor. In fact, one of my professors held me back after class one night to give me a "pep talk" regarding my work ethic. I had an A in the class...I kept the A in the class.
Did I listen to her? Nope. I kept on doing what I was doing.
I wonder if criticized for a creative story if I'll continue down the same path, or if I'll change the way I write?
Thus, I ponder.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
When It All Goes Downhill
I've been fortunate in life that I've climbed more mountians than dived into the valleys, but let's be truthful, I've seen my life sink into the pits of hell.
Two years ago I was an unemployed teacher. I was eating A LOT. Not just a lot, but A LOT. I kind of lost track of days and such, but I'm pretty sure I was eating a box (note: not a small plastic package) of those Little Debbie's a day for about a week or two...oh, and the pizza...and the chips. I easily gained 25 pounds, which I've been whittling away little by little for about a year and half.
At the time I was really pissed at myself for everything. I was blaming myself for everything. All I wanted was the fairytale.
You know, the perfect job, the perfect boy, the perfect hair, the perfect life.
Guess what I learned?
THE FUCKING FAIRYTALES AS WE KNOW THEM DON'T EXIST.
Although most of my progress through years of depression (I admit that it's been going on for years, I've been cutting myself and scratching myself since I was little) was gained though counseling not all of it was explicitly a result. I would like to point out that I at one time I thought all those people who analyzed the stuff in your head were full of bologna. They're not. They can actually help.
However, the very interesting part of my story is just beginning. See, Iwas am a little bit naive and thought that fairytales were love stories that ended happily. Boy was I wrong. It wasn't until I took my Icarus poets course in graduate school that I found out how wrong I was--which was my other sort of therapy.
While we were reading poems by Anne Sexton I chose to analyze "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs." Yeah...I had to do reasearch because the poem emphasized the gory side of Grimm's Fairytales. How the woman was denigrated for being how she was, poor, yet beautiful. I soon realized just how bad our culture is at glossing over what they don't want to see.
I see all of these headlines about Darfur or about some celebrity adopting a baby from a foreign land and all I can think of is, "WHY AREN'T YOU LOOKING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?"
First, let me say I think that what's going on in Darfur is horrible. I want it stopped. I'm glad some attention had been brought to it, don't get me wrong.
However, what about little Jimmy down the street from me who only ate a cheese sandwich tonight because Mom and Dad are having a hard time paying for rent and utilities even when they both work? Or, how about those teenagers who were killed the other night just because they live in a run down neighborhood and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why aren't celebrities adopting some the meth-adict babies? Or, helping more innercity kids.
Oh, and the big one. Why aren't there more RESPONSIBLE role models?
I'm tired of turning on the television and seeing sex-crazed teenagers. When I was 12 I was watching Saved by the Bell, not Sex and the City. Teenagers who were getting in trouble, but were some-what cute in that preppy way vs. sex crazed women who sleep with every man they can sink their meat hooks into.
Jeff and I watched The Breakfast Club the other day. He had never seen it before. I on the other hand LOVE IT.
Why?
Sure, they smoked a little dope and were crushing on each other, but not once did they go "American Pie." OMG! NO! SEX! IN! A! MOVIE!? How did people ever get along without SEX! IN! A! MOVIE!?
!? That is called and interrobang, by the way. I figure if you're reading this far into my entry, you should learn something constructive.
Anyway, it was nice to see teenagers who were being teenagers. They were worried about appearances and images, but they didn't go off and have sex just because they thought they saw a sparkle in one another's eye.
Our culture is so good at seeing what they only want to see. They want what they want when they want regardless of how it affects others.
Then, they want glory when it comes to 'fixing' people or ideas, because this generation is just blowing everything to hell in a handbasket.
Maybe if culture took a good look at itself we would realize we're only hurting us.
Two years ago I was an unemployed teacher. I was eating A LOT. Not just a lot, but A LOT. I kind of lost track of days and such, but I'm pretty sure I was eating a box (note: not a small plastic package) of those Little Debbie's a day for about a week or two...oh, and the pizza...and the chips. I easily gained 25 pounds, which I've been whittling away little by little for about a year and half.
At the time I was really pissed at myself for everything. I was blaming myself for everything. All I wanted was the fairytale.
You know, the perfect job, the perfect boy, the perfect hair, the perfect life.
Guess what I learned?
THE FUCKING FAIRYTALES AS WE KNOW THEM DON'T EXIST.
Although most of my progress through years of depression (I admit that it's been going on for years, I've been cutting myself and scratching myself since I was little) was gained though counseling not all of it was explicitly a result. I would like to point out that I at one time I thought all those people who analyzed the stuff in your head were full of bologna. They're not. They can actually help.
However, the very interesting part of my story is just beginning. See, I
While we were reading poems by Anne Sexton I chose to analyze "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs." Yeah...I had to do reasearch because the poem emphasized the gory side of Grimm's Fairytales. How the woman was denigrated for being how she was, poor, yet beautiful. I soon realized just how bad our culture is at glossing over what they don't want to see.
I see all of these headlines about Darfur or about some celebrity adopting a baby from a foreign land and all I can think of is, "WHY AREN'T YOU LOOKING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?"
First, let me say I think that what's going on in Darfur is horrible. I want it stopped. I'm glad some attention had been brought to it, don't get me wrong.
However, what about little Jimmy down the street from me who only ate a cheese sandwich tonight because Mom and Dad are having a hard time paying for rent and utilities even when they both work? Or, how about those teenagers who were killed the other night just because they live in a run down neighborhood and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why aren't celebrities adopting some the meth-adict babies? Or, helping more innercity kids.
Oh, and the big one. Why aren't there more RESPONSIBLE role models?
I'm tired of turning on the television and seeing sex-crazed teenagers. When I was 12 I was watching Saved by the Bell, not Sex and the City. Teenagers who were getting in trouble, but were some-what cute in that preppy way vs. sex crazed women who sleep with every man they can sink their meat hooks into.
Jeff and I watched The Breakfast Club the other day. He had never seen it before. I on the other hand LOVE IT.
Why?
Sure, they smoked a little dope and were crushing on each other, but not once did they go "American Pie." OMG! NO! SEX! IN! A! MOVIE!? How did people ever get along without SEX! IN! A! MOVIE!?
!? That is called and interrobang, by the way. I figure if you're reading this far into my entry, you should learn something constructive.
Anyway, it was nice to see teenagers who were being teenagers. They were worried about appearances and images, but they didn't go off and have sex just because they thought they saw a sparkle in one another's eye.
Our culture is so good at seeing what they only want to see. They want what they want when they want regardless of how it affects others.
Then, they want glory when it comes to 'fixing' people or ideas, because this generation is just blowing everything to hell in a handbasket.
Maybe if culture took a good look at itself we would realize we're only hurting us.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
If I Could Hold Time in a Bottle
Seriously, in the past month since I started my job, I can't tell you how little time I've had. There are items I should have done that haven't been done for weeks. Of course, some of that is due to a few bumps in the road.
I didn't expect my friends husband to die so suddenly, but I was sad. Did I go see her? No, I was at my university homecoming when I found out when the arrangements were. I wouldn't have gotten home on that Sunday until possibly 11 p.m. And, since I couldn't get out of work on Monday I decided to sends some cards with the intent on actually sending the card. That was nearly two weeks ago--the cards are still on our desk.
I feel horrible, but I'm having a hard time actually sending the cards. What does one say? "Oh, I'm sorry your husband died. Haven't seen you in a long time. Take care."? Ugh, I over analyze everything.
I've also been working on my thesis a little bit. How bad is it that I just want to be done with it and am writing to get it done just to be done?
I've decided that the Ph.D. will be in creative writing. I LOVE creative writing. I have a ton of stories and poems. I LOVE writing, although I'm not good at it. I love it. Literature is great, too, but it's not my life's ambition.
Mostly, I miss school. I want to be in class learning. True, I learn at my job, but for the most part, it's pretty rudimentary. I'm almost like a computer--or a machine--while I'm at work.
I get paperwork. I process paperwork. I get more paperwork.
Fun! Not.
However,I think it's great practice for reminding myself why I want to get my Ph.D. someday and why I don't want to work in a desk job for the rest of my life.
Oh! And, I started Weight Watchers with some of my buddies at work. I've lost about 5 lbs so far and I'm 1.5 weeks into the program. Not doing too bad, eh?! Mostly what I've learned is that I was definitely NOT portioning out my meals correctly, nor was I eating enough of the good thing. A measuring cup will do wonders when you're dieting. 1/2 Cup of mashed potatoes is NOT what you think it is.
I didn't expect my friends husband to die so suddenly, but I was sad. Did I go see her? No, I was at my university homecoming when I found out when the arrangements were. I wouldn't have gotten home on that Sunday until possibly 11 p.m. And, since I couldn't get out of work on Monday I decided to sends some cards with the intent on actually sending the card. That was nearly two weeks ago--the cards are still on our desk.
I feel horrible, but I'm having a hard time actually sending the cards. What does one say? "Oh, I'm sorry your husband died. Haven't seen you in a long time. Take care."? Ugh, I over analyze everything.
I've also been working on my thesis a little bit. How bad is it that I just want to be done with it and am writing to get it done just to be done?
I've decided that the Ph.D. will be in creative writing. I LOVE creative writing. I have a ton of stories and poems. I LOVE writing, although I'm not good at it. I love it. Literature is great, too, but it's not my life's ambition.
Mostly, I miss school. I want to be in class learning. True, I learn at my job, but for the most part, it's pretty rudimentary. I'm almost like a computer--or a machine--while I'm at work.
I get paperwork. I process paperwork. I get more paperwork.
Fun! Not.
However,I think it's great practice for reminding myself why I want to get my Ph.D. someday and why I don't want to work in a desk job for the rest of my life.
Oh! And, I started Weight Watchers with some of my buddies at work. I've lost about 5 lbs so far and I'm 1.5 weeks into the program. Not doing too bad, eh?! Mostly what I've learned is that I was definitely NOT portioning out my meals correctly, nor was I eating enough of the good thing. A measuring cup will do wonders when you're dieting. 1/2 Cup of mashed potatoes is NOT what you think it is.
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