And whatever comes our way

I like to sit and wait until everyone's gone. Apparently that's an unusual characteristic; to the degree that people will make an easy exit or escape a priority upon their arrival. Does this mean I don't value time as much as the other guy, no it's that I realize that sitting in a line of cars, each with one person picking up a child after football practice is not as desirable as waiting until I don't have to maneuver in order to leave.
The letter I'd written to the editor of the PD received a response dismissing it as some sort of liberal rhetoric and tome I was braying on about. I see injustice, it's as simple as that for me, and I don't understand how we can and I include myself in that line of cars, in that store buying petroleum based products, I see us all ignoring or learning to tolerate so much. By this we are guilty of living comfortably at the expense of others. It's hard to coordinate life with a communal notion, but it's harder to keep on keepin on with the bullshit of buying, selling and compromising our world for the cheddar. The letter I wrote didn't make it into the paper in it's entirety, but here's what they did print;
Why would Cleveland want to host the Republican National Convention? To support the party that has sent countless Americans to their deaths and subjected others to a lifetime of pain and suffering. A party that is responsible for the death of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi citizens who were just like us - people who want to live their lives.
Bob Taft, our Republican debacle of a governor, has pledged "substantial state financial support." But he has never pledged anything that might bolster our city and region, which obviously are in trouble, as demonstrated in part by its dwindling population.
It's insulting that Cleveland needs to beg for the most unworthy of groups to come and support an administration that has done harm to cities and especially minorities.
Rock on, Cleveland, but don't rock the RNC.
Abby O'Neill

It's the only way to live

I am in the process of evaluation. It's really about the "sickness" and what sort of havoc and weirdness it caused in the aftermath. One takes inventory and realizes things need to change, new expectations need to be met and then after awhile it fades and life takes you back to the everyday. Or not. I'm all for the process, it's just that so much gets in the way of regarding the experience as worthwhile.
Really what it is, is that I've gone back to reading the political blogs and seeing the vast chasm that has been carved out of our lives. That there is not going to be justice, or any sort of resolution for the likes of Ken Lay, George Jr, or Dick. Perhaps I'm feeding into the negative fear mongering that so permeates the outlets, but it works, anxiety is an enormous part of our lives because it made it possible for us to survive and evolve, yet now when that primal fear should have dissipated, it has become a central focus and polestar of our attention.

Deep in the night it's all so clear

The Republican National Committee search scouts where here in town checking out if out fair city measured up to their standards of parasitic host. The local powers that be pulled out all of the chimes and kazoos to lure them to come and feel the noise that is Cleveland.
Luckily, I stepped in and wrote a letter to the Editor of the Plain Dealer explaining that the cost would be too high to sponsor an organization that promotes murder for hire and or an administration on the state and federal level that has eliminated most major funding for this area yet suck the life out of every tax payer.
Rant yes, but the point is the editors changed the tense and person of so much of the dispatch that it was as if I'd written it in 4th grade. I did write a letter in 4th grade, but that was to President Nixon asking him to end the war in Vietnam. Who says you can never go home!

Find your way back

When I was in college, one of the many places I worked was "The Shire". It was a bar in the basement of this fantastic old mansion. When I say basement, I basically mean convention center bomb shelter it was an enormous cavernous space. I used to serve many a wine cooler and Miller Lite. But the most memorable aspect of that job was that once people realized you were a sitting target, they could sit at the bar and remain there for hours. It's sort of a power play and one that I've kept stored in my memory for the purpose of making sure that I keep moving so as not to repeat history.
Jake calls me at work because he knows I'm there and I have to answer the phone. He calls to ask me to do things that I can't possibly; like unlock the computer or take him to the store for clothes. Other times I love that I'm anchored; people whom I've helped before and apparently had done it with a modicum of competence, come into the library and actually brighten when they approach the desk and see me. In the darkness of the teenage abyss that is my life, it's a bit of a enlivening occasion.

Never meaning no harm

When Jack and I went to see Talladega Nights the Legend of Ricky Bobby last week, one of the trailers, or as it's known at my house, one of the best parts of movie going experience, was for Jackass II which I had seen online previous and laughed my compound laugh which is when a laugh is so damn good that another one starts right over it. Anyway, We laughed hard at the trailer as did the three 20 year olds that were sitting across the isle from us.
For the rest of the movie, they and I laughed at basically the same things, subtle and overt boy humor. The rest of the theater chuckled much, but it was the reinforcing that I am a 17 year old in the funny department, that was the tickler for me.
Otherwise, I really got fixated on the advertising and huge gas reserves that make up much of the NASCAR culture. This one really has me; I have no concept of what the appeal is other than perhaps the fans are so gas fume addled that they haven't realized that it's dull and tedious to watch guys in cars go around in circles for hours.

Ripped at the seams

Shifting paradigms is not new for me. But the degree to which my life has changed is incomparable to any previous experience. This is not an external happening no one out there can see any difference, expect perhaps for my house being completely out of chaos control. This shift is internal and all about either the spinal tap or some sort of actual growth experience.
I'm hoping for the latter, but it's too soon to tell. In the meantime, school starts tomorrow, a full two weeks before Labor Day, so that any summer fun can be sucked right out of us.
The one thing I really hadn't taken into account when I thought about having children, was the part where every year you relive the first week of school as if it were your own.

Don't we all want the same thing

When I was young, single digits and some teen. I felt compelled to claim my knowledge. Moreover, I tried to make sure people around me knew that I had either seen or heard of the subject we were participating in, such as a movie, band, or book. I remember the desperation and the time that was involved in this effort. But, look where it got me.
Yesterday, one of my countless children was trying to tell me about a part of a song as it was playing and for the entire song he waited, verbally, for the moment he was shooting for. Okay, so it's either universal or a fucked up genetic mutation. Either way, to whom are we trying to prove ourselves and look so gosh darn cool?

You're the one who's crazy

All the while I was transcending time and space, Jake has been harboring a bum appendix.
He's been out of town visiting my parents and sister's family which he does every summer to give himself and us a much needed break from conflict-town. So apparently Saw II had a lot to do with his need for an emergency appendectomy as he was watching it the night before and had eaten ice cream while doing so. Had he been here it would have been more serious and problematic because he would have told me his stomach was really hurting and I would have told him to take a tums. Thusly, being around people who actually respond appropriately to shrieks of pain made it possible for him to have a minimally invasive laproscopic procedure and he was home the next day.

Sways so gentle

Two things, or memories through the haze have come back to me so far; They have a nifty registration cart that they use at hospitals now, so that admissions can get all of your vital financial information before you go into your opiate sponsored wacky mystery tour. So as I was being hooked up to an avalanche style antibiotic push, a gal was asking me about the market value of my first born's kidney or some such thing and then wanted to know where I worked and what I did there. This is when I listed towards starboard and answer that my profession was librarianish. Big laugh from the seven people who were doing all sorts of shit to me. And I realized in the haze, this is why you aren't' seen as seriously ill, because you make jokes when your life depends on it.
The other; I was trying to come up with an equally distasteful name for the male version of fag-hag, and that is... lesbo best-beu.

John's pillow pile

I am diminished. Everything about me is less, my energy, body, brain chemistry-ey. I'm ish. I lost almost an entire two weeks of active living and I don't even have an exact reason; but for the all encompassing "virus".
Spinal Tap; good movie, bad in the literal sense. The actual procedure itself was amid the chaos of the emergency room, there was morphine involved and lidocaine, but the epilogue rivaled any Quinn-Martin production.
For days, I had been in bed laying flat and skirting the other side. For awhile I really didn't care either way, it made no difference, I had no emotional connection to my life or the fact that I had a family and friends, not to mention all of the secret stuff no one even knows. I understood, finally that life is not hard to not have.
It fades, I'm recovering but I still can't be upright for more than a few minutes without the top of my head exploding off of my body.
I'm back though, no pun intended.

Any time will do

I've been a bit under the weather. My neck hurts and I'm a little off. Nevertheless, all must stay on track. Gus did not hate Band Camp quite as much as I thought he would and a lot of that has to do with the presence of a girl. He also has made arrangements to play on the football team, which is the nucleus of our conflict. He had thought that it was not going to be possible to do both, but with a little perseverance I now have to picture him playing in the band in a football uniform or visa-versa.
Really what I have on my mind is how Dark Side of the Moon and the Wizard of Oz have absolutely no connection no matter how many people think that the album coincides with the movie. I lost 43 minutes of my day to get a glimpse of the myth, and all I can say is; no.

Deep in the heart

Gus is seething with hatred for me right now. Everyday this summer he has exclaimed his distaste for Band, and that would be especially for marching band of which he is attending on the hottest day of the summer, the opening day of fun.
I'm torn; I know he is seeking status and doesn't want to be pegged a band @&*$#*, but I also want him to be part of a group that can do a modicum of protecting him from being the victim of asshole kids who are predisposed to conduct themselves in such a way that they make everyone acutely miserable with whom they come into contact. Perhaps, he will actually have a nice time and I won't have to threaten to take him there in his pajamas again. Most likely, this will be an ongoing struggle that will plague me for the rest of my, I didn't live up to my potential so I'm making up for it with my child, life.