I think it was the D.A.R.E. guy that taught me these things. The most important thing to know is that sometime around the fifth or sixth grade, an officer came to our school and talked to us about Safety First. I may not remember if he was the D.A.R.E. guy as well, I do know he wasn't the Smoky the Bear* guy, but I do remember what he taught us.
Apparently I am the only one.
Last Friday I was given the awesome task at work to go and get the ladies I work with some lunch. Normally, I am all for doing this. It means I get to see the sunshine, and I get to have a cigarette. Friday was different because it was Hoopfest weekend, and I work downtown (enter mutual nods of understanding here).
Now, I don't have anything against Hoopfest. I played in it when I was young, I've watched more games than can be counted, and I know it is awesome revenue for Spokane. I DO have an issue with all of the tourists who don't follow the laws of well...EVERYTHING!
I blamed the experience I am about to describe on such tourists, but after today I believe this stupid biatch was a Spokanite who needs to be sterilized.
I was being sent to Dick's for lunch, and I knew traffic would be horrific and I was nearly out of gas. So, I stopped at Divine's on third to fill up. Now, if you live in Spokane, you know that third is a one way street that runs east. While waiting for an opening to pull out, I look east for pedestrians, not a soul in site, then I'm looking west at oncoming traffic waiting for an opening. Three years later, one appears and I start to go. I hear, "UUUUGGGH, you stupid fucking cunt!" come from the east. I stop and look and here comes some lady on a bicycle. This is where the possible D.A.R.E. guy comes in.
This is what I was taught, compared to what this lady was doing:
RIDE RIGHT, WALK LEFT. Biatch was riding left.
YOU MUST FOLLOW ALL RULES OF A MOTOR VEHICLE. Biatch was going west on a one way going east. She was on the sidewalk. She was listening to her iPod with headphones.
WEAR A HELMET. She was not wearing a helmet...she was barely wearing clothes.
I stop well short of the intersection, she rides in front of me, and I couldn't help myself, I say, "I'm not the one breaking any laws you stupid bitch!" I know, I know, bad form. I should have kept my cool, but come one, she called me a cunt! That is a word you do not use for strangers, it is a very personal insult, and I did not appreciate this fat broad calling me the C word.
I think the blaming of Hoopfest happened at Dick's, because nobody knew how their system worked, and I was there for far too long.
Today, it happened again. Three kids (I'm gonna say punks, because they were being punky) so these punks come riding, on the sidewalk, on the left, with no helmets, and blow through a stop sign like it was a kazoo. I slam on my brakes, because I was the one without a stop sign, and they yell, "Watch where you're going, bitch!"
Sigh. Does the D.A.R.E. guy not do those speeches anymore? Are their parents hoping for a traumatic brain injury because they're tired of raising punks? Ugh, I'm so annoyed.
*Here's a little interesting factoid. Did you know it is against FEDERAL law to take the name of Smokey the Bear in vain??? I've yet to be given a ticket, but it is my lifelong goal.
Later skaters, and remember, that D.A.R.E. guy worked hard on those presentations, so let's show him some respect and follow bicycle safety laws.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Important Life Lessons
Tried to teach my son the skill of mockery yesterday. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, Sara, that's a terrible thing to do. Why would you do that? You're an awful mother and you should not be allowed to teach your child anything. Sigh, you wouldn't be alone in feeling that way.
But, all inappropriate jokes aside, there really was an important lesson being taught. I guess yesterday my little man tried to throw his shoe at his other mother. She told him that he couldn't wear his black socks with his shorts, he got mad and threw his shoe. I was trying to talk to him, once again, about respect and treating people with kindness when a basketball player walked by. He was wearing red basketball shorts, a tank top, black sneakers and black socks. So, his Auntie and I mocked. "Look, bud, see how silly he looks with his black socks and his shorts," but my kiddo had tuned out, which he does when he's being lectured for bad behavior. So, you can all breath a sigh of relief that my lesson in mocking did not sink in. Hopefully the rest of the stuff did.
My best friend and I then got to talking about the kind of grown ups we want to be. How we want to be different then the kind of grown ups we grew up with. We want to be a good choice for the kids in our lives to talk to about anything, without being pushovers. We want to celebrate the differences in our children rather than trying to hide them or making them feel ashamed for not being like everyone else.
I was told by my mother and my assistant principal that if I'd only conform to what everyone wanted me to be that I wouldn't get beat up by six boys in our school parking lot. That I wouldn't have beer bottles thrown at me as I walked home from work, I wouldn't get phone calls at all hours calling me a lesbian, a freak, a weirdo. That same assistant principal would no longer give my tormentors passes to get me out of class and push me around the halls.
The point of this is, I never conformed. I refused. I held my head high and I defended my differences and those of my "weirdo" friends. It would have been easy to take that advice and just blend into the background of our small town. But what kind of advice is that really for a child? I didn't want to blend in, I didn't want to be ashamed of who I was on the inside by changing the way I looked on the outside.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I don't care if my son wears black socks with shorts, all kids look a little silly at age nine, and even if they don't, he likes those black socks. He should be able to wear them. He should not throw shoes at his mother, or anybody else, but maybe we all should have been a little more open to the thought of him being perfectly capable of dressing himself at age nine.
I didn't have an adult like that in my formative years. I struggled with my identity because every one I trusted around me was telling me who I was was wrong. Even as an adult, I think twice before I dye my hair with a funky color, or get another tattoo. I think, should a thirty year old woman have pink in her hair? Why the hell not???
The color of my hair does not keep me from performing my job, the size and location of my tattoos does not make me a bad mother, employee, friend, family member. But still I struggle. Still I think, who could this piss off? I don't want my son to feel that way, ever. I want him to have confidence in who he believes he is at that time.
At least I don't have a daughter and I won't have to worry about leggings as pants. Thank God for that!
So, everyone, embrace the children in your life for their quirks. Let them shine! Unless, of course, they're not pants!
But, all inappropriate jokes aside, there really was an important lesson being taught. I guess yesterday my little man tried to throw his shoe at his other mother. She told him that he couldn't wear his black socks with his shorts, he got mad and threw his shoe. I was trying to talk to him, once again, about respect and treating people with kindness when a basketball player walked by. He was wearing red basketball shorts, a tank top, black sneakers and black socks. So, his Auntie and I mocked. "Look, bud, see how silly he looks with his black socks and his shorts," but my kiddo had tuned out, which he does when he's being lectured for bad behavior. So, you can all breath a sigh of relief that my lesson in mocking did not sink in. Hopefully the rest of the stuff did.
My best friend and I then got to talking about the kind of grown ups we want to be. How we want to be different then the kind of grown ups we grew up with. We want to be a good choice for the kids in our lives to talk to about anything, without being pushovers. We want to celebrate the differences in our children rather than trying to hide them or making them feel ashamed for not being like everyone else.
I was told by my mother and my assistant principal that if I'd only conform to what everyone wanted me to be that I wouldn't get beat up by six boys in our school parking lot. That I wouldn't have beer bottles thrown at me as I walked home from work, I wouldn't get phone calls at all hours calling me a lesbian, a freak, a weirdo. That same assistant principal would no longer give my tormentors passes to get me out of class and push me around the halls.
The point of this is, I never conformed. I refused. I held my head high and I defended my differences and those of my "weirdo" friends. It would have been easy to take that advice and just blend into the background of our small town. But what kind of advice is that really for a child? I didn't want to blend in, I didn't want to be ashamed of who I was on the inside by changing the way I looked on the outside.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I don't care if my son wears black socks with shorts, all kids look a little silly at age nine, and even if they don't, he likes those black socks. He should be able to wear them. He should not throw shoes at his mother, or anybody else, but maybe we all should have been a little more open to the thought of him being perfectly capable of dressing himself at age nine.
I didn't have an adult like that in my formative years. I struggled with my identity because every one I trusted around me was telling me who I was was wrong. Even as an adult, I think twice before I dye my hair with a funky color, or get another tattoo. I think, should a thirty year old woman have pink in her hair? Why the hell not???
The color of my hair does not keep me from performing my job, the size and location of my tattoos does not make me a bad mother, employee, friend, family member. But still I struggle. Still I think, who could this piss off? I don't want my son to feel that way, ever. I want him to have confidence in who he believes he is at that time.
At least I don't have a daughter and I won't have to worry about leggings as pants. Thank God for that!
So, everyone, embrace the children in your life for their quirks. Let them shine! Unless, of course, they're not pants!
Friday, June 18, 2010
The First
Who knew it would be so difficult to just start a blog? I've been blogging about this or that for years now, but it seems that this is the site of choice for the bloggers (blogees?) I know.
It took me far too long to even think of a name. I was thinking strongly about calling it "Emotional Vampire". Those are a couple of words from a song I love, but even more important it is very much how I see myself. If you were to ask those who love me, they would disagree, they would say that is not how they see me. But it is how I feel about who I am, who pretty much everyone is at some time in their life. It's not a bad thing, it's a human thing. We all need, and it is mind boggling to me that so many of us try to hide that part of our humanity.
When I am sad, I need someone to understand. When I am angry, I need someone to rage with me. When I am happy, I need someone to laugh with. When I am telling a story, I need to be the center of attention. I am not ashamed of these things...and many more...because I do not feel isolated in feeling that way. I feel connected with the world, bonded by our universal similarities.
Now I am seriously doubting myself for not naming my blog with my gut. Meh, I figure what I name the blog won't keep me from writing what I want to..so what's it really matter?
Yeah, you know me, I'm far too "OCD" to REALLY think that way. It does matter, because I have to have a reason for why I do EVERYTHING.
I decided on "Tangled Skein" because I'm a nerd. And apparently because I had to add my screen name to the beginning of it, I am not the only nerd out there. Who knew?
"With a Tangled Skein" is the name of a book by Piers Anthony. He writes science fiction/fantasy novels that held my fancy during the most growth oriented years of my youth. It is part of a series that changed my life.
Twenty years and two days ago, I lost my dad to a heart attack. I was really lost for a long time, then I found a church that fed my need for family. But I was still lost, the real me was just floating around waiting patiently to be missed and finally found. When I read this series, it reminded me that questioning what you're told is far better than following blindly.
Though "With a Tangled Skein" is not my favorite book from the series, it's a phrase that I have always found intriguing. To me it represents every aspect of life. It is all connected. The simplest things can change everything. If I'd never joined MySpace, I would never have reconnected with my best friend, or my future husband. Sometimes it's big. If I'd never had that miscarriage, there would be no Kelly.
Our own personal skeins are a tangled HOT mess, even when we think we should take the garden shears to it.
So, that's the point of this blog, that EVERYTHING matters, and I will write about everything. More than likely you'll be thinking, "why would she write about something so trivial?" and my answer will always be, because it felt like more than that to me, and there is always a chance it will turn out to be a major thread in my tangled skein.
It took me far too long to even think of a name. I was thinking strongly about calling it "Emotional Vampire". Those are a couple of words from a song I love, but even more important it is very much how I see myself. If you were to ask those who love me, they would disagree, they would say that is not how they see me. But it is how I feel about who I am, who pretty much everyone is at some time in their life. It's not a bad thing, it's a human thing. We all need, and it is mind boggling to me that so many of us try to hide that part of our humanity.
When I am sad, I need someone to understand. When I am angry, I need someone to rage with me. When I am happy, I need someone to laugh with. When I am telling a story, I need to be the center of attention. I am not ashamed of these things...and many more...because I do not feel isolated in feeling that way. I feel connected with the world, bonded by our universal similarities.
Now I am seriously doubting myself for not naming my blog with my gut. Meh, I figure what I name the blog won't keep me from writing what I want to..so what's it really matter?
Yeah, you know me, I'm far too "OCD" to REALLY think that way. It does matter, because I have to have a reason for why I do EVERYTHING.
I decided on "Tangled Skein" because I'm a nerd. And apparently because I had to add my screen name to the beginning of it, I am not the only nerd out there. Who knew?
"With a Tangled Skein" is the name of a book by Piers Anthony. He writes science fiction/fantasy novels that held my fancy during the most growth oriented years of my youth. It is part of a series that changed my life.
Twenty years and two days ago, I lost my dad to a heart attack. I was really lost for a long time, then I found a church that fed my need for family. But I was still lost, the real me was just floating around waiting patiently to be missed and finally found. When I read this series, it reminded me that questioning what you're told is far better than following blindly.
Though "With a Tangled Skein" is not my favorite book from the series, it's a phrase that I have always found intriguing. To me it represents every aspect of life. It is all connected. The simplest things can change everything. If I'd never joined MySpace, I would never have reconnected with my best friend, or my future husband. Sometimes it's big. If I'd never had that miscarriage, there would be no Kelly.
Our own personal skeins are a tangled HOT mess, even when we think we should take the garden shears to it.
So, that's the point of this blog, that EVERYTHING matters, and I will write about everything. More than likely you'll be thinking, "why would she write about something so trivial?" and my answer will always be, because it felt like more than that to me, and there is always a chance it will turn out to be a major thread in my tangled skein.
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