I can hardly wait

Well, I will be out of town for a week to visit with my family in California.
I am actually looking forward to it at this point. Life here has been so very unsettling and has left me, actually, there is no word for it, I could maybe say de-something or other, but that doesn't quite sum it up. I'm just fielding way too many events and making them my own. Such as; Gus getting all his money taken out of his bank account, and not by him. Jack doing his best to fail eleventh grade, Echo loosing the ability to walk and last, Eamon having a serious health problem and no insurance, and all that happened in one day.

I tell myself

Though all evidence shows that post glacial Ireland had no snakes, the legend of St. Patrick is celebrated today. Perhaps, it was a metaphor.
It's not as if facts need to play any part in history, especially religious events. Even knowing that all stories are subjective, and taking into account misinterpretations of experiences or even words, and spelling, I do wonder what we can take as actual events and what is just part of a long and varied series of lies.
As I've watched history unfold over my lifetime, I've come to know that the stories are all pieces and parts of a bigger picture, but in the context of looking back from the future, all of that will be swept away and what remains will be mere images of reality.
Right now, Jacob is reckoning with some issues and experiences from his childhood. His memory of late is focusing on a few events, mostly regrettable, on our part. What I hope for, is that he can balance out his history and make it one that includes some recollection of a positive type, rather than what most of the rest of us do.

Let's get started

As I reflect on behaviors, (what else do I ever do), I have two items to discuss.
The first, came to mind Friday at work. I was sitting for awhile, which is actually unusual for me, I'm a spring up to do things kind of gal; nevertheless, I noticed that I was uncomfortable in my jeans, which I had purchased a few weeks ago.
I lost a lot of weight about six or seven years ago, gained a few pounds over time, and recently lost those, and a few more . My reaction to that, as I know to be true for many women, is to buy a smaller size.
The result of that is not only discomfort, but a mind set, on my part, either conscious or un, that the pants are too small because I weigh too much. It's a nasty cycle at best, and at worst psych-ops. On one level a game, and on another a detrimental kind of self fulfilling, negative, vitriolic behavior, and if there's anything to shed, this would be it.

Start from the start

I may have told this story before, forgive me, I'm getting old, forgetful, and redundant.
When I was near graduating from college, I worked as a bartender at Charley's Crab, which at the time,was probably the most upscale restaurant on the east side.
It was located near a hotel where a lot of celebrities would stay when they were performing at the coliseum, the nightmarish music and entertainment venue built an hour outside of the city.
In all of my punk rock glory, I would serve the rich and powerful their bevs and eat chex mix aplenty. It was not a pretty time in so many ways.
I had served a number of familiar faces, some local, others international, but none are quite as memorable as the members of Loverboy.
It's not because they did anything spectacular, it's because I would not acknowledge that I knew who they were when they were chatting me up.
And for that, to this day when Everybody's working for the weekend comes on the radar, Gus will say to me, "They could have been our father."

There are no reasons

I had not planned on chiming in, but I'm a mom and that's pretty much who I am for the most part, especially when it comes to opinions on life, death, and loss.
You bring kids into the world, some of us too young when starting that process. Not as much of a youngster as some, but in my case, immature enough to have little clue of what I was getting myself into.
What I do know, is that every day of Junior High School was hellish and full of relentless abuse. Did I want to kill my tormentors, no. Did I want them to disappear off of the face of the earth, absolutely.
What I have never been able to understand, and it may seem naive, but, why does the behavior become the norm? The answer I was always given was, "it's human nature." What the fuck does that mean? With that, comes the answer; So is the response, and if it is killing other kids, then do we accept that as natural as well?