Take Chances! Make Mistakes! Get Messy!

I need to get a chameleon and drive a bus. Source

It is not an easy thing to go outside of one's comfort zone, but that's the only way you're ever going to truly live your life, I think. If you always play it safe, nothing interesting ever happens to you and life can get pretty boring. As Miss Frizzle was famous for saying, we must "Take Chances! Make Mistakes! Get Messy!". As of late, I have been doing just that, and so far, I have been very pleased with the results. This is not limited to the Mary Kay party and the spouse's club. I don't really know that all that is what I'm looking for out of life anyway. I am talking about really putting myself out there and taking some risks. Maybe not big risks, but still, things that make me feel good and add an element of excitement to my life.

Yesterday, I was driving to see j^C at work when I noticed the local "homeless" man in his wheelchair on the side of the road. He was holding a sign that said "WATER". Since I wasn't in a hurry, I stopped at a Handy Way up the road and bought 2 gallons of water for him. I have seen this man several times since moving to Richmond Hill, but it was usually at the other end of town. He has a huge growth, probably as big as his head, on the left side of his neck. He is always sitting in a wheelchair with a wagon-like contraption attached to it which I assume contains all of his worldly possessions. I have often wondered where he sleeps, but I assume that it's rude to ask.

After buying the water I drove back several miles in order to deliver it. When I pulled off the road, the man looked very happy to see me, and told me in a not unpleasant voice to set the jugs down on the ground next to the wheel chair. I did just that, and before I could get back in my car he very politely asked me if I wouldn't buy him some cigarettes. My first inclination was to say "No." and leave, but I noticed that he was pulling some money out of a change purse. He handed me $12 and told what to get and from where. How could I refuse? So, off I went with his money to buy his smokes. After I was inside the Gas Station I realized I didn't have my ID, but the man behind the counter said not to worry about it. I don't know if that was illegal or not, but I'm not too worried since I wasn't buying them for me anyway. The cigarettes were then purchased and delivered without incident. He thanked me and I smiled and told him to have a good day, which kind of seems like a dumb thing to say to a homeless person, but since he seemed to be happy with his water and his cigarettes, I didn't know what else to say. So, I got back in my car and left, hoping that I had brightened his day. Part of me wonders if I could do more, but the other part of me says that if he needed more, maybe he would have asked. If ever I see him again, maybe I will ask.

Strangely, taking things to the homeless man was not the big chance I took this week. That just seems like the decent and right thing to have done, and so I did it. No, the truly daring thing I did this week was done of Facebook: I reached out to people I had lost contact with. I know that sounds so insignificant, but it's really a hard thing for me. I always feel guilty for having let the relationship wither on the vine, so I don't reach out for fear of rejection. "That J, she's got a lot of nerve contacting me after all these years!" That's always what I expect, but I am happy to say that's not the reaction I got at all. The people I wrote to were happy to hear from me and wrote me long and enthusiastic responses! I just read them a few minutes ago, and it really made my day, let me tell you. The world feels a little less cold now. Even if none of my friend-making efforts yield a profit here in Georgia, I can rest assured that I have lots of other people who like me. Maybe Facebook isn't the devil, after all. We just have to remember to use it's power for good instead of evil.

Speaking of my friend-making efforts, I have really put my neck out in that arena this week as well. I mentioned in the last post that I took on the Organizer's position for the Spouse's book club (Which apparently is called "The Book Bunch"). Now I have 4 happy readers under my care and I have assigned the first book: Dragonwyck by Anya Seton. If any of you out there would like to read along, please do! We can discuss it here at the end of the month! I hope that in taking on this added responsibility I will at least feel like I am doing something worthwhile with my time. I also hope that I don't alienate my members with my English major insights. I want it to be fun, but I also want everyone to be challenged. What's the point of reading, if not to "broaden our minds"?

I don't know what other chances, mistakes, or messes I can get into right now, but I am making it a point to seize the opportunity when it presents itself.

Do you often go outside of your comfort zone? If so, have your efforts been fruitful? What do you think about me helping the homeless man? 

The Siren Song of St. Augustine

Last weekend I went on a "mini break" to Florida for the weekend. j^C and I stayed at this really swanky resort in Ponte Vedra while attending a 3 day marriage retreat. I think that a lot of the information regarding marriage was for the birds, but it was a nice all expenses paid vacation, so I'm not going to complain. Just a thought though: Why are you telling me that couples should be exclusive and using King David and King Solomon (polygamists both) to make your point? Kinda of defeats your point if you ask me. I think that we both got a lot out of it anyway, though.

What else? What else? What else?

I have to say that being in Florida - St. Johns County in particular - put me in a strange place emotionally. I think that St. Augustine and the surrounding beaches might be my favorite place in the world. I never realized exactly how happy it made me until I left and moved to Pensacola. When I came back home after that first semester, it was like my soul was flying. I love it there, and nothing would make me happier than to live there.

A house on the beach is my first choice, preferably on A1A north of St. Augustine, where the coquina is. If that's not an option though, I would gladly take a house near The Florida School of the Deaf and Blind. Walking distance to all the attractions? Yes, please! This dream of mine requires me to be the bread winner though, and that's more Bennies than I can even imagine. It makes me sad. The ocean calls me and pulls me toward it. The city is the perfect blend of historical, touristy, quaint, and modern. It's just about everything I love in life wrapped up in one nice, neat little beach front package
.

For those of you who might not know what
"coquina" is, this is what it is. Source

On Saturday, j^C and I went to see ParaNorman in St. Augustine, and afterward he kept asking me if there was anything I wanted to do in the city before we headed back to Ponte Vedra. I kept saying no, and he couldn't understand why, since I love the city so much, and I know it so much better than he does. I was disinclined for several reasons.

First, I don't necessarily love the city because of any one thing that there is to do there. I am at peace and in my happy place stuck in traffic when I'm there. It's hard to describe. It's like feeling at home. There's nothing I wanted to go do, because I was already doing it. Secondly, if I had gone to some of my favorite places (St. George Street, SJRCC, Fusion (if it's still there)) I might have sunk into a malaise, and I didn't want to do that. 

We did visit the Lighthouse, which I had only ever seen from the road. Since it was nearly closing time we did not buy tickets to go inside the "attraction" as we would have had very little time to see anything. It was still nice to walk around under the trees and look at it from a little closer than before though.

One of my most favorite places is kind of off limits to the general public nowadays since it's now the St. Augustine Amphitheater. Back in my day (am I even old enough to say that?) it was much more accessible and they only used it for this play about Ponce De Leon or something. We went to see it when I was in the sixth grade, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. Now they have real concerts there. It's where we saw Duran Duran back in October. Alas. 

After we left the lighthouse, we headed back up A1A toward Ponte Vedra, but I decided to stop off at a restaurant along the side of the road. The parking lot led to the beach. With the tropical storm out there somewhere, the waves were just great and the beach was almost deserted.

The last time I was on that particular bit of the coast, it had been at night and I had been very sick. I wound up having to puke in the bathroom at the restaurant only to discover that in my haste I had ducked into the men's bathroom. Not my finest night, but it still sticks out in my mind as a good memory. Strange. Now that I was back at this beach, I just wanted to find an abandoned beach house and start squatting. Even now, I'm plotting ways that I can spend j^C's future Magical Mystery Tours in St. Augustine. I wonder if roach motels accept doggie dogs as guests?

Where do you feel most at home? Is there some place that you love above all others for no logical reason? Comment and let me know!

This Post Has No Title

I took my cozzerole to the boys this morning, That Sprout in tow. The good news: Everyone loved it! The bad: I never went to sleep last night. I caught a couple of cat naps throughout the day, but I'm looking forward to some real sleep very soon. Before I head off to bed, I want to record for posterity some of the things that happened to me today.

The event that I made the cozzerole for was a pancake breakfast, so when we arrived there were 2 electric griddles set up in an office with 2 women making pancakes. There wasn't a whole lot else to eat - my dish, 2 different types of muffins, apples, oranges, and bananas. The room was very crowded and I had That Sprout in a stroller in order to keep her confined. She does not like to be confined, so I asked j^C if there was anything that she could destroy if I let her out. One of the women making pancakes looks at me and says something about keeping her away from the griddle. I don't know what I was thinking exactly, but I'll bet that my lack of sleep didn't help my attitude about it because I was kind of offended that she was even talking to me. I had not addressed her. I address my husband, so, stop talking. And she kept going on and on. Finally, when she was finished telling me how hot the griddle was I said "Well, if she touches it, she'll learn," and everyone was sufficiently appalled. For once, I didn't care.

There were no other wives there, and standing around with my banshee child among a lot of tired and sweaty men is not my idea of a good time, so after twenty minutes of so, we decided to leave. The problem was, we were trapped in the parking lot until 7:30. It was 6:50 when I got in the car. Alas. Thankfully, that Sprout fell asleep and it was just me vs. a whole lot of stupid pedestrians. As I was trying to make my way back to the highway some guy WALKED OUT IN FRONT OF MY CAR! I nearly hit him. He did not seem to comprehend that walking in front of a moving vehicle is a mea culpa on his part. So, there I was slamming on brakes in the middle of an intersection all up and in amongst heavy traffic. Yay.

It took me a solid twenty minutes to travel less than 2 miles, but at close to 8 am, I made it to the highway. Half an hour later I was home, safe and sound and in bed. The rest of my day was more or less a blur, but I am happy to report that That Sprout was a model citizen throughout the haze.

Book Club

This morning, I got up bright and early to pay my dues for the Community Club that I mentioned last week. I've decided to join because I found out they needed someone to organize their book club, and I instantly had visions of reading lists, discussion questions, and red pens. I spent over an hour in the car today just to take this woman $25 so as I could get started with the book club, but it was all good. The ride out to Hinesville was filled with the tunes of Elton John and me animatedly singing along to the tunes of Elton John. Who needs American Idol when you have a car? When I'm driving, I'm a rock star! My kid must hate me. After the long drive, the hand-off of the money took all of about 2 minutes and I am now in charge of the book club. I'm not sure if this is a good thing. My first inclination is to send out an email that says

"OK guys! We're going to be reading:

• Ulysses
• War and Peace
• Heart of Darkness
• Moby Dick
• Hamlet
• Crime and Punishment
• The Canterbury Tales (in Middle English - see me for why this is not Old English)"

I would then tab down a ways and tell the reader that it was a joke and I that I would like to know what everyone actually wants to read. I don't think anyone would get the joke though. 

As you can see, I am still putting myself out there and trying to form relationships with people. Last night I went to a Mary Kay party. Long story short: Mary Kay might be my stay at home mom career. I will be doing some research and letting you all know more about that as I know myself.

The Rory Gilmore Challenge

Books are Friends! Source

Anybody remember Gilmore Girls? I watch it from time to time on ABC Family, when the mood strikes. Anyone who has seen the show even once knows that Rory Gilmore is a tremendous bookworm. Some tortured soul out there decided to find out exactly how much of a bookworm by writing down every book that Rory claims to have read in the entire series. Those 350 books are what comprise The Rory Gilmore Challenge. (That was a link to the list.)

I'm going to do it. I'm going to read all those books. Yes I am. You watch me.

Here's a list of the ones I've started and not finished:

1.     George Orwell - 1984

2.     Lewis Carroll - Alice in Wonderland

3.     Frank McCourt - Angela's Ashes

4.     William Faulkner - As I Lay Dying

5.     Geoffrey Chaucer - The Canterbury Tales

6.     Anthony Burgess - A Clockwork Orange

7.     Fyodor Dostoevsky - Crime and Punishment

8.     Edgar Allen Poe - The Complete Works

9.     Truman Capote - In Cold Blood

10. Shirley Jackson - The Lottery: And Other Stories

11. Gabriel Garcia Marquez - One Hundred Years of Solitude

12. Oscar Wilde - The Picture of Dorian Gray

13. Henry Robert - Robert's Rules of Order

14. Virginia Woolf - A Room of One's Own

15. Nathaniel Hawthorne - The Scarlet Letter

16. Kurt Vennegut - Slaughter-House Five

17. Vladimir Nabokov - Speak, Memory

18. James Joyce - Ulysses

19. Richard Nelson Bolles - What Colour is Your Parachute?

Here are the ones I've actually completed:

1.     Anne Frank - The Diary of a Young Girl

2.     Seamus Heaney - Beowulf

3.     Joseph Heller - Catch 22

4.     J.D. Salinger - The Catcher in the Rye

5.     Arthur Miller - The Crucible

6.     F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Great Gatsby

7.     William Shakespeare - Hamlet

8.     J.K. Rowling - Harry Potter and Sorcerer's Stone

9.     J.K. Rowling - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

10. Joseph Conrad - Heart of Darkness

11. David Sedaris - Holidays on Ice

12. Dr. Seuss - How the Grinch Stole Christmas

13. William Shakespeare - Julius Caesar

14. C.S. Lewis - The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

15. David Sedaris - Me Talk Pretty One Day

16. Franz Kafka - The Metamorphosis

17. Charles Bukowski - Notes of a Dirty Old Man

18. S.E. Hinton - The Outsiders

19. John Steinbeck - Of Mice and Men

20. Edgar Allen Poe - The Raven

21. The Brothers Grimm - Rapunzel

22. William Shakespeare - Romeo and Juliet

23. Harper Lee - To Kill a Mockingbird

24. Samuel Beckett - Waiting for Godot

25. Emily Bronte - Wuthering Heights

So 350 minus 19 plus 25 . . . carry the two . . . I've attempted nearly one half of the challenge already. My goal is to read all the books I have not read - and then re-read the ones I have, over the next four years (Because that's how many years are in high school). We'll see how this works out. I'm going to start . . . right after I finish reading Trainspotting. Are any of you interested in attempting the folly that is The Rory Gilmore Challenge? Let me know! It'll be fun!

P.S. The formatting is wonky and I'm too tired to do anything about it now. I'll fix it tomorrow.

Life's Little Tragedies

It's nice to be nice. So be nice. Source

Today's post about Gaster Lumber of Savannah has been postponed. Mr. Gaster was not available to speak today, as his wife is having surgery. I wish her a speedy recovery, and hopefully I'll be interviewing Mr. Gaster later in the week. I spoke to one of his employees who told me that the response the sign within the community has been 90% positive. I don't really have an opinion on it because at the moment I am trying to conscientiously abstain from politics. I think I'm going to write in Penn Jillette because I think he is kind and fair and good. However, I think Mr. Gaster's story will be a good addition to First Person Narrative, if he is willing to provide me with his first person narrative. We will find out in due time. For now though, I am going to tell you all about some things that have happened to me lately. I've try so hard to be positive, even though it is not my natural state of being, and still these little annoyances come along and try to knock my off my course.

• Last Thursday I got up bright and early. I saw in the newspaper that there was a playgroup that met on Monday and Thursday mornings at the Savannah Mall. In the name of making some new friends, I fed and dressed that Sprout and we set out with smiles on our faces and a song in our hearts. (That song is usually "Skin Divers" by Duran Duran - That Sprout's favorite song to dance to in the car-seat!) At the mall, there is a three way intersection. The cars going vertically have stop signs, so the car entering the parking-lot, going vertically in the three way, has the right of way. That was me. There was a woman in an SUV stopped at the sign. I decided that since it was 10 am and there was no traffic other than the two of us, I could wait and let her go. This was partly because I wanted to be nice and let her go and partly because I know that no everyone stops at those stop signs. After being nearly creamed more times than I can remember, I've made it a habit to err on the side of caution. I motioned the woman to go ahead and smiled. She didn't move. I motioned again. Then, I noticed that she was frantically flailing her arms and making very animated gestures with her face. She was cussing me out. I tried one more time to get her to just go, in the spirit of brotherly love. Still she flailed, so I just turned. Maybe I was wrong by the rules of the road, but if someone is going to let you go, why not just go instead of driving your blood pressure through the roof? It's times like these when I want to give up on humanity and crawl into my hidey hole forever.
• Things did not improve in the mall. If you are going to advertise your playgroup in the paper, someone should have the decency to show up. We waited an hour, and the only people to show up were a mother and her son who wanted nothing to do with us, and a busload of daycare kids. The daycare workers were nice, but by this point, the Sprout had had enough, so we left. So much for human connection.
• Yesterday, on my way home from Florida, I hit an egret with my car. It bounced off the windshield. I'm glad it didn't break the windshield, but I am sorry that I didn't hit it hard enough to have killed it. It was bad enough that I hit a bird, but to watch it struggling in the road behind me was even worse. Now I have double guilt: Not only did I kill it, but I killed it in such a way that it had to suffer before it died. I wonder what the Dahli Lama has to say about this sort of thing?
• I had a dream last night that an old friend's mother had to be put in a care facility. He was very broken up about this, and for some reason, I was there to help him through it, forsaking my family in the process. These are the strange things that happen when lack of sleep and a trip to Crescent City are combined. I hope that my dream was not prophetic (that happens to me sometimes). I would love to know how this person's mother is doing, but I'm not going to even open that can of worms to find out. I hope it was just a blot of mustard or a crumb of cheese and that there was more gravy than grave about it. 
•  I've been trying VERY HARD to be a kinder gentler Joyce, and I don't understand how unfriendly and rude people can be. I have recently begun to make a conscious effort to be polite to everyone and to smile at strangers. It does no good to go around looking mad at the world all the time. You would not believe the steely eyed glares I get from the people I smile at! I'm just trying to be polite and friendly. People are so isolated nowadays - it makes me sad. Not too sad though. By being mindful of my attitude and consistently practicing good manners, I find that I'm a little less stressed than I once was. I just have to remember to go about life with a cheerful dose of existentialism: nothing really matters, so why am I letting this bother me? There should be more cheerful existentialists in the world. Then again, maybe there are, but we call them stoners instead.  
• I feel like I am growing a wing from my right shoulder. I don't know what the exact cause of this is, but I imagine that it has something to do with my poor posture. When I sit at the computer, I slouch, and when I sit in the car, I slouch and put my right hand on the top of the steering wheel like I'm Gwen Stefani and I'm living in the music video for "Southside".This cannot be good for my body, but habits are hard to break. Also, I have my street cred to think about. Lately, I think the wing has been getting ready to sprout. What was once an uncanny numbness in my shoulder has evolved into a nagging pain, like a pinched nerve, but not. I have been to see my sanctified chiropractor about this, but have yet to have any relief. I can but hope that some ergonomic adjustments to my driving and computing procedures will alleviate the problem. Either that, or my right arm will die, which may be happening even as we speak, judging from the spreading numbness.

Meanwhile, what ever happened to Moby? I liked him. When Captain Tesla figures out time travel, I want to be the test pilot. I'm going back to 1997 and living the next five years over again. I was truly the best of times, the worst of times. At least back then I couldn't drive, thus eliminating 3 problems off of that list up there. I also had a social life, I knew what was going on with everyone's mother, and people smiled back at me. Let's not forget that Crispy M&Ms were still around. Good times. Good times.

I hope that you are all well and good, and I will be back a little later with VEDA 2012 - Day 8

To Teach of Not to Teach

When in doubt, consult Hamlet,
while he consults himself. Source

The way I think of time only works in an academic setting. The year has never started on the first of January, in my mind. That was always the halfway point. The year started on the first day of school and ended on the last day of summer. For as long as I can remember, “last year” has always referred to the previous school year. You can imagine what sort of existential crisis I faced when I graduated high school. It was a little better when I got into college, but there weren’t any grade levels to refer to, and my brain found it all rather confusing. Then, after college the days all started to run together and time itself has become nothing more than an abstract concept – a memory of something I used to know. But what I could work in a school? Ah, yes, then my sense of time and space would be restored!

When I tell people that I want to be a teacher, they respond as though I told them that I was trying out for the Manson Family Quartet. “Why?” they ask with awe and horror. “Well, because I like the hours and I love the English Language.” I reply. The whole time space conundrum never comes up. If it did, I think people would start backing away slowly. “She wants to be a teacher and she has no concept of how years work? I must flee this place, before it’s too late!” I often feel that education is some kind of taboo field and within it there are niches that are seen as downright unholy. “You want to teach Middle School? Oh! They’re the worst!” Say the mothers of middle school children. On one hand, I guess they would know, but someone has to teach their vicious progeny. The attitude I have encountered over the years leaves me with no question as to why our country is quickly devolving into a confederacy of dunces.

With the odds against me, I wonder why I think I want to be a teacher, or if I really want to be one at all. I latched onto the idea thinking it would be a fun job with steady pay, great vacation time, and a decent benefits package. This was when I was fresh out of high school. Since then, reality has taken hold and I have begun to appreciate the slings and arrows that educators in this country endure. Low test scores, funding cuts, classes full to bursting, lackluster parents, kids on the edge, drugs, alcohol, censorship, teen pregnancy, depression, suicide, and soul crushing faculty rooms – why the hell would I want to put up with all that? Folly?

No. I think that it’s a noble desire to want to make a difference to someone. I still remember all the teachers I ever had who were more than teachers. The ones who gave me extra books to read so I wasn’t bored. The ones who nominated me for elite summer programs. The ones who encouraged my insane class projects and the ones who let me cry unabashedly in their classrooms after school. Without all of these fantastic and selfless adults in my life, I wonder if I would have made it through high school at all. I did get out though. I got out of high school and out of town, and eventually out of college. Now, it’s time to give something back. Or pay it forward? Pick your cliché. I want to be that teacher that makes students excited about learning. I want to see the kids everyone else has written off graduate and go to college.

Or maybe I just want my internal clock back in order. I hope that is not the case. If I get my Master of Arts in Teaching and this is all about how I like to look at a calendar, I’ll be in debt up to my eyeballs and committed to a career that was nothing like I thought it would be.  That would suck. 

Trailer Trash - Part 2

From the First grade until I was 20 years old, I lived in a doublewide mobile home at the end of a dirt road. Prior to the purchase of the trailer, the filial home had been a one room "cottage" that was converted from a goat barn into a domicile. Our barn had been clean, and so too was our trailer. It was just like any other home, it just had a seam running down the middle of the room. It was small and humble, but it was enough room for the three of us. We owned 10 acres of land to begin with, before my parents split up the parcel and sold half of it. There was more than enough room for me to roam, skip, scamper, and cavort. There was a time when I was daring and liked to do jumps off the one foot ledge of dirt near the road and ride my roller skates down the ramp of our shed.

After thinking long and hard about it, I can only remember two friends from elementary school  that I spent the night with that lived in anything other than a trailer. (There were plenty of kids who did live in houses, mind you, but we weren't on playdate status.) Make that three - and since my parents were the local repair people, I not only knew what type of dwelling all of my classmates lived in, I also knew the state said dwelling was in. I knew who's mom was a lousy house keeper and who didn't clean up after their pets. I also knew that there were more of us living in trailers than not.

Maybe this is a reflection of where I grew up. Crescent City, Florida is first and foremost a retirement community. Someone even went so far as to write their dissertation about my own personal Mayberry and called it Crescent City, Florida: Problems and Potentials of a Retirement Town. What does that tell you? Most of the older model trailers around, as well as a great many of the new ones, were originally purchased as winter homes for retirees. I would estimate that at least one quarter of the town up and leaves come Easter and we see hide nor hair of them until October. In high school, I was a regular church goer, and the pews were never so bare as in the middle of the summer. They had to recruit people from other churches sometimes just to staff Vacation Bible School.

Because the retirees only live in town half the time, often issues arise in their home state that forces them to forego their frolicking in the winter sun. When this happens, they need to sell their trailers. The next largest group of people in Crescent City are people living below the poverty line, and those are the ones who buy when the retirees are looking to sell. Either you live in a 25 year old trailer, or you live in the PJs, and at least most of the trailers come with land. There are very few "trailer parks" in the area, and all the ones I can think of are AARP members only. As a result, they are very clean, quiet, and they have the most wonderful light displays at Christmas Time.

So yes, there are a lot of poor people in my town living in old trailers. That doesn't mean that they are all trash. Furthermore, most of the area's middle class choose to live in trailers because it's far more affordable than building a home. As a matter of fact, the only subdivision in the south end of the county was built within the last five years and no one lives there. The greedy developers thought they would make a killing by building these "affordable homes" and moving everyone up from living on cinder  blocks, to living in them. Then the housing bust came, and everyone realized that owning your trailer and the land under it free and clear was a whole lot better than paying for one of the cookie cutter houses that sat in a subdivision that to this day, has incomplete infrastructure.

Wanna know some nice things about trailer living? Septic Tanks. Well water. Large Bathrooms. And let's not forget about land. As I mentioned earlier, while there are "trailer parks" they are populated with what are affectionately referred to as "snow birds". The rest of us trailer dwellers are proud to say that our homes are located on at least one acre of land one average. Around these trailers there are gardens, citrus groves, grape orchards, chicken coops, ferneries, and cow pastures. It is the idyllic agrarian lifestyle that your city dwelling granola crunchers pine for. Just with trailers. Now, I would be telling a lie if I said that there was no meth being cooked in trailers in Crescent City. I'm sure there is. The economy is in the tank and anyone my age who's stuck there hasn't really got a chance, and sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. The point is, just because you live in a trailer does not mean you are trailer trash. Trash collects in all sorts of places, or haven't you heard?

Trailer Trash

I am very angry about the article "But I don't cook meth: overcoming my own "trailer trash" misconceptions". The gist of the article is "I thought everyone who lived in a trailer was trashy until I wound up living one myself, but even then I was ashamed of it until I got approval from my friends and family." Excuse me, but what kind of entitled bullshit is this? Apparently, Kathleen, the writer and fledgling trailer occupant was knocked on her ass by reality. Now, it would be scathing and blatantly racist to say that the only people who live in projects are drug dealing minorities. We just can't go around saying things like that. But somehow it's OK to perpetuate the "trailer trash" myth?

Be it ever so humble . . . Source

I know what you're thinking: "The article says she's overcoming her misconceptions. No. Overcoming your misconceptions is going to the PJs and discovering that it's full of a variety of diverse and under employed people. Overcoming your misconceptions is going to the trailer park and discovering that it full of people who own their own homes and live within their means. Overcoming your misconceptions is NOT settling on buying a trailer and then keeping your new address "under wraps" out of shame, only to finally come to terms with your new residence in the last paragraph with a weak and non committal two paragraphs.

The author writes that when deciding to buy the trailer, they were making a decision that they could live with for 5 years. That tells me that as soon as their student debt is paid off, they are getting the flock out of dodge and once they've found the perfect trendy apartment, they will sit in it imbibing alcoholic substances while laughing at the time when they were "trailer trash". I am by no means saying that they should have to stay in the trailer. What I am saying is that the author didn't overcome anything, she's just trying to make the best of what she sees as a humiliating situation until she can dig her way back out. My point is, living in a trailer should not have to be humiliating in the first place. It's a fucking roof over your head and you own it. Be grateful.

I don't know from whence the stereotype came, and I don't want to know. All I know is that it's an old tired cliche and it needs to go away. Just because a person lives in a trailer does not mean that they are trash. Not all trailers are found in trailer parks. Not everyone who lives in a trailer cooks meth in their bathroom, nor is it a requirement to have at least one car up on block in the yard. I know there have to be places where this is, or a lease was true, but I have never seen such a thing in my experience, and let me tell you, I have seen a lot of trailers. I grew up in one.

A Moderate Look at Rick Santorum's Private Life and Politics - Part 2

Continued from Tuesday's post:

The problem is - Rick Santorum is pro-life even in cases where the mother will die. So, people are seeing it as "do as I say, not as I do". After the baby was born and died - they had a funeral for him which is what really interests me. They brought him home and showed him to their other children, who were allowed to "cuddle" him, and then they had a funeral at the home. 

People have been up in arms about this. They are using this event as a political talking point to illustrate that Santorum is "weird" and that his pro-life sentiments have deified the fetus. I take issue with this - which is what I want to write about for OBM. I don't agree with the man's politics and I think it was in poor taste to have brought this story up on the campaign trail without his wife knowing (there's a video of him telling the story in front of a group - at one point the camera pans to his wife who is in tears, saying "this is so inappropriate"). 

I didn't say he was above reproach. He is a politician.

But I am kind of offended that people are making this guy out to be crazy because of the way he chose to grieve his child especially since psychologists say this is now recommended behaviour in such situations. OBM featured a story of Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep - an NPO that provides "remembrance photography" for grieving families. I fail to see how this is any different from what the Santorums chose to do. These people are acknowledging that there was a life and that life was lost. I think that's really important. 

The snark coming from the left is painting us all as heartless baby killers - it's not a good look. I am totally pro-choice, but that does not mean I don't think that life is sacred. This kind of unwanted loss of a child has got to hurt like hell - how dare anyone call a grieving parent's actions into question. There is a huge difference between this kind of loss (whether it was a stillbirth or an abortion is unimportant since they wanted the child) and choosing to terminate a pregnancy for non-health related reasons.

 I think the people who come up with this kind of crap have never had the opportunity to parent, so they don't know what it's like. I am here to tell you that the women I know who've had abortions grieve. They've talked about that on OBM too. Just because terminating a pregnancy is the right choice for you and the baby doesn't make it an easy choice. Not really having a choice is incomprehensible to me. Times like these make me want to turn in my liberal card.

A Moderate Look at Rick Santorum's Private Life and Politics - Part 1

From February 8, 2012. Not really important anymore, since Santorum is no longer in the picture, but I'm cleaning out the drafts folder, so here you go. 

Why does this freak people out?

Please donate to this worthy foundation. Source

I do not watch television anymore. If something doesn’t wind up on my home page’s new crawl, I don’t know about it. It is because of this that became the last person on the planet to hear about Rick Santorum’s at home funeral for his stillborn son. 

I am not interested in talking about Mr. Santorum, his politics, or politics in general. I am more interested in his decision and the reaction that his disclosure received. I have beliefs that favor the type of ritual the Santorum family described, so I did some research on their ordeal once it came to my attention. 

People were up in arms. Very negative language was tossed around with regard to his decision to have a funeral at his home with his family for a child that was tragically lost. I read articles where the story was described as “weird” and “horrifying”. The one that really got me though was the piece that said the family deified the fetus because of their pro-life beliefs. 

I understand that this is an election year, he is a controversial candidate, and his disclosure while campaigning made him an easy target for this kind of thing, but really? Can't a family grieve in their own way just as they are allowed to celebrate in their own way?

Home births and midwifery use is becoming more prominent among young mothers. I have seen dozens of uses and preservation methods for placenta. Sure, some people think it’s a little strange, as is their right, but the mothers are not accused of making a fetish item of their placenta. No one judges a mother for taking advantage of infant remembrance photography.

Meanwhile, the Santorum family’s story makes people very uncomfortable at best, and has been used to make political gains for the opposing sides at worst. I am ashamed of my liberal compatriots who have used this story to their advantage. I thought we were supposed to be tolerant and inclusive.

So, I think I told you I was going to submit some more to Offbeat this and that? There's something that I really want to write for offbeat mom, but I am having a really hard time writing it in such a way that I don't sound like a right wing psycho. I don't suppose you heard about Rick Santorum's baby's funeral? 

Apparently, in 1996, his wife had a stillbirth at 20 weeks. Being that Rick Santorum is a Catholic and a Politician, this is all tied up in politics and religion. They knew that there was a problem with the baby early on and were advised to terminate. They said no, we want to have surgery to try to save the baby - as is their right. That resulted in an infection and they were finally told that the baby was not going to survive in any case and if they didn't terminate the pregnancy the wife would die as well. 

So, they induced labor . . . or something. All of that's kind of confusing - I think it's a case of semantics. The crazy lefties are saying that she had a 2nd trimester abortion, but I'm not sure if the baby wasn't already dead and they induced labor in order to get it out of her without another surgery. I don't think any of that really matters - I imagine that were I in their shoes I would have done the exact same thing. 

Part 2 Coming Thursday.

VEDA 2012 - Day 9 "Will You Go Out With Me?"

Experimental film at work. I really need to feel better. Ugh.

VEDA 2012 - Day 8 "Excitement"

Today's video here.

I am kind of over this video thing, but still I press on. I need to take things up a notch tomorrow. I am sad to find the camera that works well with YouTube and the video editor takes a really crappy video. The nicer looking videos from a few days ago were from a camera that has to be converted two or three times before I can do anything with it. Lame. Join me tomorrow when I answer the question "What is the proper way to ask someone out?". Good God, this outta be good.

Veda 2012 - Day 7 "Myers-Briggs"

Here's the link. I didn't care. I don't care. Be happy I wrote about teaching today. I am going to bed.

VEDA 2012 - Day 6 "I Am Afraid Of:"

Today's video is definitely an example of the learning curve. I edited it. Exciting! I did not feel like talking, so I came up with a clever solution. I am tired and I feel as though I will be going non-stop until sometime on Wednesday morning. I had my interview this morning with Deep and I hope to hear whether or not I'll be getting a Fellowship by Wednesday. After the interview, I picked up That Sprout and we headed to the hospital to see our friend and her new born baby. It was a rough delivery, but mom and baby are doing well.

I was talking to my mom this afternoon about the delivery and I learned something I never knew: When my mom delivered my sister (Frank Breech and un-medicated) they put her under as soon as my sister was out. She woke up 8 hours later on a gurney in a hallway right in front of an operating room. They put her there in case they needed to do emergency surgery. Apparently, because of the traumatic birth, she was hemorrhaging and she could have bled to death. I never knew.

Now, I have to go clean my car, do some laundry, start on an extravacasserole, and pack That Sprout an away bag before I go to bed. Then, at 7 am I will be leaving for Florida, only to come back in the same day, blog, vlog, finish the extravacasserole, sleep a little more, and then deliver said extravacasserole to it's final destination Wednesday morning. If I don't drop dead first. More about the extravacasserole tomorrow. I'm out.

VEDA 2012 - Day 5 "Zombie Apocalypse Now"

OK, so the YouTube to Blogger issue remains unsolved. Here's VEDA 2012 - Day 5. Click and See. 

I am so excited about today's video! I was so much fun to make.Today's topic was Zombie Apocalypse. For those of you who don't know, I used to play a tabletop RPG called "Call of Cthulhu" which was set in WWI. In today's video, I am channeling my character from that game, Corporal Grim (who has since been promoted to Sargent). He's a no nonsense kind of guy and war is his way of life. He's the kind of guy who kind of hopes for a zombie apocalypse. He's also based on Tommy Lee Jones' character from Natural Born Killers. I hope my little explanation put's the video in some context for you. See you all tomorrow!

VEDA 2012 - Day 4 "Belonging-ness"

The newest video is up. Click here and see! I have discovered why I can't get the videos to load on here. I'm trying to do too much to quick. If I made the videos early in the day and then posted them a few hours later (which is what I did on the day it actually worked) I wouldn't have any problems. We shall know better hereafter.

I did not want to make one today. I think I'm dying (which means I have some sinus issues and I'm PMS-ing like a motherfucking riot). Ugh. I want a steady stream of Green Tea Frappacinos and Chocolate Chunk Pecan Cookies. Someone out there, please, make this happen. I accept Starbucks gift cards as well as cash! Right now, while I'm waiting for my Starbucks fund to plump up, I'm going to go lay in bed and watch 1000 Ways to Die. Because it's flipping hilarious.

VEDA 2012 - Day 3 "Do You Feel Like an Adult?"

I should have come to expect this shit by now. Source

I am beginning to hate blogger. I feel like it's hit and miss. I had absolutely no problem putting the video up here yesterday. Today? No such luck. The video is recorded and posted. You can find it here. Aggravation.

VEDA 2012 - Day 2 "My First Internet Memory"

Look who figured out how to get her videos onto the blog! Day 2 is done and done. It was much shorter than yesterday. I talk way too fast. I am way too animated. If you read yesterday's post, you will perhaps see what I mean when I say I come on too strong. Tomorrow, I hope to find the 3:30 - 4:00 mark. See you then!

UraniumJ and Chick-fil-A

What Would Jesus Do? Source

I started writing a post this morning about the women who inspire me the most. One of those women, Captain Tesla, wrote on my Facebook wall that I should write about Chick-fil-A after I posted the picture to the left.

As I try to stay in the middle of the road when it comes to political and religious beliefs, I don't see what all the hullabaloo is about in the first place. Do I agree with Dan Cathy? No. Do I agree with his right to say what he believes? Yes. Am I surprised by his beliefs. Not a bit. What suprises me about this whole Gays vs. Chicken thing is that any of this came as a shock to people. I thought we all knew that the founder of Chick-fil-A was a conservative Christian. That's why they're closed on Sundays people. It's not like it's rocket science. If you don't like their values, don't give them your money. Simple as that.

The "demonstrations" have also shocked me. Gays descending on Chick-fil-A. Why? If you're not buying, you're loitering and that's against the law. Breaking laws makes you look bad. That's silly. Why not simply boycott? By doing flash mobs and what not, all you're doing is bringing more attention and publicity to the joint, and as we all know, there's no such thing as bad publicity. This was all but proven by Chick-fil-A Appreciation Day wherein all the Right Wing Conservative Family Values folks went out of their way to eat dry chicken sandwiches and bland tasteless potato products. That's their prerogative, and I say "More power to you".

My real question is "Why are we all so uptight about this in the first place? Their food is not tasty." Now, if this were, say, Chili's, oh, I would have to do some serious soul searching. Can I say "goodbye" to Chipotle Chicken Crispers forever in order to maintain my integrity? That's a hard call. Could I never again sip the green goodness that is a Starbucks Green Tea Frappucino because of an ethical disagreement? I don't know. Would I be able to forget the goodness that is Baja Blast Mountain Dew (found only at participating Taco Bells) because I had a real issue with their corporate values? I hope I never have to make these decisions.

But the chicken sandwiches? Not a hard call. I can, and have made better tasting sandwiches in the privacy of my own home, and I didn't even have to say "have a blessed day" before I started. The food at Chick-fil-A is a deep fried nightmare. I think one of the more striking things about the line of people in the picture is how fat some of them are. Values or not, ya'll just don't need to be eating fried chicken sandwiches, yesterday, today, or any day. Neither do I. Furthermore, I don't need to be eating any of those other delicious things I listed up there. We would all do well to stop eating fast food in general and send the savings to a local food bank or something.

As I said on Facebook earlier today, I am so tired of this culture war. Left vs. Right. Who cares? Why can't we all just find some common ground and work from there? I'll tell you why: People want to fight. They like it. Look at any comments section on any site on the internet. There may be some thoughtful discourse here and there, but unless the threads are heavily monitored (like The Offbeat Empire, for example) everything degrades into name calling and mean spiriting trolling in no time at all. It makes me sad.

I will say this in defense of Dan Cathy - his values mean more to him than his wallet. He just alienated a whole lot of potential customers to stick up for his beliefs. I don't agree with him, but I respect his chutzpa. It wasn't Mr. Cathy who turned this into the debacle it has become. It was the ignorant masses who want nothing more than to have a reason to fight about something. Ya'll really didn't know that Chick-fil-A doesn't support marriage equality? Then you've been letting your lust for tasteless, mass produced, garbage food get in the way of knowing all the facts and it's your own fault. Stop acting like a victim. You did it to yourselves.  Don't like Dan Cathy's opinions? Then stop giving him money.

As for the rabid bigotry that is being manifested by the over consumption of Chick-fil-A? Carry on. Eat fried chicken sandwiches with gusto until you go broke or die. But remember, this isn't about faith, values, ethics, or integrity, it's about capitalism.

VEDA 2012 and Uranium J's Foot in Mouth Disease

I decided on a whim to participate in VEDA 2012 today. It was a good day to make this decision as today is the first day. VEDA stands for Vlog Ever Day in August. It's supposed to help you learn about blogging, vlogging, and meet fellow bloggers/vloggers. I'm pretty excited about it, and now, for the next 31 days you will be hearing from me daily. How exciting! Here's my VEDA debut, which is way to long. You may be asking yourself "Why didn't you post the video on here? Why did you link to it instead?" Because I don't know how. Yet. This is the learning part I guess. I hope there's a curve. With any luck, over the next month you will see tremendous improvement and I will finally have attained my goal of becoming famous on the interwebs. Shut up. I can dream.

In other news, I don't know if I mentioned that I am set to start grad school in a few weeks. It will be online at a very conservative Christian college. I read their student code of conduct today and have decided that it's best that I never mention the name of the college on this blog. It might be best not to talk about my studies at all, but we shall see as things unfold. I just want to get my teaching certification and get in a classroom. I want to make kids excited about Shakespeare and the Bronte Sisters. I want to grade essays and have show and tell. It won't be long now, as long as I keep my nose to the grindstone.

I . . . sense I've gone too far. Source

This brings me to my big story for today. Yesterday, I was regaling someone I had just met with my lofty ideas of becoming a teacher. In so doing I realized something about myself: I need a social life. This was yet another "duh" moment rather than an "aha" one. I have a grand total of 2 friends in my local area. They are both pregnant, and as such I see them somewhat infrequently. I talk to Mojo JoJo every weekday, but there's really no face time involved there. I see j^C for an average of four hours a day. The rest of my time is spent with the beans and That Sprout. They are not great conversationalists and I am starved for adult society.

I am so starved that I've begun to realize that when I am around adults I come on way too strong. I want so badly to just talk to people that I tend to

• talk too long
• talk too much
• talk too animatedly
• talk too loud , and
• talk about things no one wants to hear about

In the past two days, sadly I can highlight four instances of this happening. That's pretty bad.

The first was while I was at Target yesterday. I have become friendly with the pharmacy staff there, and I take the Sprout by to say hello whenever I am in the store. I really wanted to say "I have become friends with the pharmacy staff", but there's no exchanging of phone numbers and I've yet to be invited out for coctails. My brain can't really accept this though, so without realizing it I tend to drag out these casual conversations until they are awkwardly ended because the pharmacist actually has work to do. Such was the case yesterday. I'm talking about fursomide, then my dog, then weight loss, then we're ringing up my stuff and I realize I don't have my debit card, then awkward "I'm so sorry, I can't believe I left it," and a hasty retreat.

Next was the aforementioned regaling of someone I had just met. During that conversation I mentioned being on medication that "keep me from wanting to kill myself, but make me want to eat and sleep all the time". I heard the words coming out of my mouth and it was too late to shove them back in. Then we began talking about books. Big mistake. I told her she should read The Color Purple which apparently she had never heard of. This prompted me to describe the Shug Avery "God's Tryin' to Tell You Somethin'" scene with much gusto, animation, and goosebumps. I'm sure no one cared. I should also add that this woman was j^C's direct boss. Not a good look. This was all after his head boss shook my hand and said "Hello Mrs. C" to which I tersly replied "It's Ms. U". I think I enjoy the taste of my own foot.

The Target Pharmacy scene was repeated again today as I had to go back and actually buy the things from yesterday. This was followed by a pleasant conversation with a barrista that just felt like it went on too long. Ugh. I have got to get some friends. I bombard everyone I meet with words. I suffer from pressure of speech. Shit like that makes people not want to be your friend. It's almost like it's a vicious cycle. And people wonder why I'm so interested in celebrity news and gossip. It's like having friends, but not.

I will end this on an up note though. I plan to go to every extra curricular activity I can from now on. Maybe by doing so I'll learn how to act around people again.