Thursday, January 5, 2012

Emotions, Sometimes I Could Deal With Less

I spoke with a friend this evening who's been having a rough go of things.  It appears that things have taken a turn for the better.  I've cared so much for this friend and didn't realize how heavily these things weighed on me.

Now that I know that my wonderful friend is on the mend, the emotions that are welling up from the dark corners of my soul are astounding me.  I didn't realize how strongly I have been holding my friend in my heart.

Tears, foolish drippy droppy tears, are and having been rolling down my face this evening.  I guess they are tears of sweet relief.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Somewhere, Someone Is Laughing

January is named after the Roman god Janus, know for having two heads so he could look forwards and backwards at the same time.  If Janus was so good at seeing forward and backward, then it would have been nice if I'd gotten a heads up that I would want to drink away memories of today. 

Tuesday 3, 2012--You suck.
  • The Kiddo can't return to school today because he is still, still, still sick.  His illness has not resolved itself in a month and since a momma knows her kid best, I knew something more than just a 'viral infection' was up at this point.
  • Made a fortuitous call at 7:45 this morning to discover that there was an opening at 11:30 at the pediatrician's.  Perfect. 
  • Did a work assignment only to discover that the email address I was attempted to reach was coming back as undeliverable.  WTF?  I've done work for this person for the past 5 days.  I'm expecting my first paycheck on Sunday, small tho it is, it'd be enough for half a tank of gas.
  • I try calling this client.  Contact him at both numbers.  Realize that both numbers are forwarded to the same mail box.  No big deal, right?  I have to get the Kiddo ready for the appointment, return a few emails, and put out a few new feelers.
  • Arrive at the doctor's 15 minutes early.  After 45 mins told that the doctor is on call at the hospital.  That's okay because I can just enjoy the honky-tonk Ebola reunion that's going on in the waiting room.  Every boot wearing member in the county walks through the door smelling of stale cigarettes and Super Gulps.  There is much hugging, number swapping, mucousy smokers coughs, and promises to get together.  The tiny infant two chairs away is covered in such large spots that I can only hope the family dog has a bad case of the fleas. 
  • At quarter to 1, doctor arrives, chats with us for a few minutes, calls out a prescription, and we're back out the door.
  • Grab a $2 Happy Meal for the Kiddo, pick up a few groceries and off to Wal-Mart to pick up the meds.  
  • Stand in return line for 10 minutes.  Discover toy did not originate from Wal-Mart but SUPER Wal-Mart.  They won't accept it.  ~~~Sigh~~~~
  • Wait at pharmacy window. 12 minutes til their lunch break is over.
  • Window opens 5 minutes late.  They haven't filled the prescription.  Told it will be ready in 30 minutes.  Know this is a lie because the same damn line is being spoken to 5 other customers.  And there is only one pharmacist.  I can do the math. 
  • Decided to go home and eat lunch.  Having passed up high fat, high calorie Micky D's I am now so ravenous that I eat a monster roast beef sandwich, a bag of salt and vinegar chips, AND a dill pickle.  
  • Drop a tomato, squat to pick it up.  RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP.  I am now the proud owner of fully ventilated jeans.  
  • Try to call the client who owes me $$ a call.  Once again, I get creepy, crappy voicemail.
  • Do a bit of work, bundle the kid back out to the car.  It's been 3 hours, the medicine must be ready by now.
  • First and only person in line at the pharmacy and it's still ANOTHER 20 MINUTES!  They have to mix the medicine.  For the love of cheese and crackers!
Time to close the curtain on this day.

Monday, January 2, 2012

The Dregs of 2011--Or--What Was I Thinking Part 2

When I was writing last night, into the early hours of this past morning, I got kicked into the drafts folder after the computer hiccuped.  I discovered I have a hell of a lot of posts that need to be trashed because even looking at them a second time, I have no friggin idea what my original  intent was.  Want to take a guess as to what I thinking?
  • LA Ink Barbie--I hate Barbie and I don't know any thin, tatted up blonds.
  • A Physically Banged Theory--Okay, What???
  • When I Hear Hoofbeats, I Always Think Elephants and Zebras-- Was I trying to illustrate how I jump to the worse conclusions? 
  • Monique--Who the hell is that?  The actress?  Why would I write about her.
So, this post is pretty shitty.  I've tried to write as I watch Hoarders, which is just wrong to begin with.  Hoarding has got to be one of the most pathetic mental illnesses I've ever seen.  When I was a teen, I cleaned the house of a deceased woman who was a hoarder.  I found canned food from the 70's, sweet potato tubers on bookshelves, and three copies times 70 of the same Harlequin novels.  Poor old woman.

I did manage however snag a really neat (read: tacky) red knit scarf that was later used as a murder weapon in a play. 

Well, I'm done for the night.  My resolution to write EVERY DAMN DAY has been fulfilled for the second day in a row. For The Win, Y'all. 

Rules: You're Doing It Wrong

This post deals with child rape, pedophiles, and religion. 
If you'd like to leave a comment, I will be moderating this time.
The opinion is mine.  I am entitled to it, just as you are to yours.
That being said, here goes. 

I am a church going Catholic.  I may not always understand or agree with some of the doctrine and teachings but I choose to still remain faithful to the Catholic Church.  Here's the way I look at it.  If you want to play regulation basketball there are certain rules that MUST be followed. No traveling, no double dribble, no shooting from the bleachers unless you are a member of the Harlem Globetrotters.
Motto: We Don't Need Your Stinkin' Rules

If you want to run in the 400 meter relay for the Olympics, you have to stay in your own lane and not cut through the center field.  If you're on Iron Chef and are told not to use any onions, then you can't use the fucking onions because it will disqualify you!

Now, I have NEVER claimed to be perfect, to follow all the rules all the time, to even like some of the rules.  I've broken some (See: Sex, Premarital), been tempted to break others (See: Theft, Do Not Do It), and at times really hated following others (See: The Sabbath, Go Celebrate It). For instance, some Sundays I'd rather bite off my finger than attend Mass; sometimes I'm in no mood to give thanks and celebrate The Lord's Ultimate Sacrifice because I'm in a bad mood or I really want to sit around in yoga pants and play on the Interwebz.   

However, I can choose to do or not do these things.  To follow or not follow the rules.  If I'm not following the rules then I'm not acting like a Catholic should act. And if I'd rather do push ups on the basketball court, rather than do a free throw, I'm not following the rules and therefore not playing basketball properly.

So I choose to remain a Catholic, even when I don't feel like it.  And when I've broken the rules, I (eventually) muster up the courage and humility to go to Confession.  That's it.  The Catholic Church, like other organizations whether it be sports, academic teams, or cooking contests, has a set of rules that must be followed if one wants to be considered a Catholic.

When it comes to the rules of priestly celibacy, Karl Keating states "It is true that Catholic priests in the West may not be married, but no one is obliged to become a priest. Marriage is not forbidden to them as human beings, but as priests. A Catholic man is free to choose the celibate priesthood, the married life, or even the single life (which also is celibate). Celibacy is forced on no one." (Emphasis mine). 

This vow is not easy and is not entered into lightly.  It means sacrificing progeny, companionship and physical comfort of a spouse.  It means going at life alone.  It also means having a flock of people as your family.  It means bringing comfort to a family when a child is in a coma.  It is blessing the little couple that has been married for 50 years.  It's restoring a fallen Catholic in persona Christi back into the church.  It is commemorating the death and resurrection of Our Lord.

I have gone to school with some wonderful men who have joined the priesthood.  One of my favorite college professors was a priest, hard ass and impossible to please that he was.  The pastor at my church is a fun, loving man has sat down to dinner with me, beer in hand and who dispenses solid advice to guide me when I walk astray. I have been blessed to know some wonderful priests.  

So it has been troubling, gut-wrenching, sickening, maddening to discover that for decades there have been priests who have raped and molested innocent children.  Rather than being held accountable by the Church and by the State, these men were often shuffled off to another region of their diocese or order where they continued to wreak havoc on more lives. 

These men broke the rules and vows they took.  What they did was wrong on every level.  There is no excusing it.  In my world, these men with other rapists, molesters, perverts, monsters of the world would be tossed on Alcatraz, air dropped food and supplies, and left to fend for themselves.  In my mind, there is no one deserving of mercy for the crimes committed against children. 

So when a priest/bishop/deacon/monk have been exposed for the horrible actions they have committed, the first thing under scrutiny is the priestly vow of celibacy.  Many times I've heard the argument in the news and from family and friends that "If your priests could get married, then they wouldn't have to rape little boys."  (As if to say, it's wrong to rape a child because you are a sexual deviant, but it is okay to act on your deviancy on a companion)

First of all, as the survivor of rape, it's not about sex.  It's about power and control.  The need to hurt and belittle someone because the rapist is lacking, twisted, sick, and incomplete.  So even if priests were permitted to marry, it doesn't mean that these actions may not have occurred.  There are sadly too many examples of rapists and molesters that were married: John Wayne Gacy, the couple that abducted Elizabeth Smart, along with Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo.

Most will agree: rapists are sick people.

So when I heard of the allegations against Jerry Sandusky, my heart broke for those innocent children whose lives were shattered.  I was sickened.  Angry at those who stood silent while they were aware of the abuse.

But at the same time, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"See!" I want to shout.  "It's not just priest and ministers and bishops that abuse children.  It's not celibacy that drives them to do that.  It's not Catholicism.  It's about being a deviant!"

More stories of abuse are coming out of other sports organizations as I type.

Sandusky was married when these abuses began.  We can't blame celibacy on his actions.  Even if he was in a loveless, sexless marriage I can't imagine that a person who enjoys raping little boys would be adverse to visiting a male or female hooker or have a mistress. 

Rape is not about love or sex.  It's about power and control, things which these men, priest and married men alike, have abused.  It's not Catholicism and celibacy that forces these priests to do these things. 

It's just plain sickness and deviancy.  And sadly, no one area of our lives, has been unaffected by it. 

I don't have to be a Catholic, I don't have to follow the rules set up by my Church, but I choose to.  Just as Jerry Sandusky choose to rape those children.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

2011- Nice To Know Ya

Sending the year out with a bang, in my own way.  Spending the last 15 minutes writing in this year is how I want to go out.  It's been a great year, mostly things on the upside of life.  I've taken up writing in earnest and become an editor.

The Kiddo and I had a backwards party to celebrate the end of the year.  Ice Cream Cake, followed by giant sparklers and other things that shoot sparks, and breakfast food.  Bacon, fried eggs, and biscuits for dinner was so yummy.

I'm glad it's over and done with. 2012, bring it on!