The more things stay the same...

Not counting the short #OWS post I made, I left this blog hanging on a very negative note. I'd like to rectify that, but not much has changed. I am at least able to feed my child (and well) so that is a huge load off my shoulders. However, it is exceedingly difficult to find work and that is where it hurts. Rent and bills are piling up (as well as multiple overdraft charges on my bank account for one bill) and it's starting to freak me out.

I got a call the other day from a staffing/temp agency and I'm looking forward to this job (working with students on processing their loans, but not exactly call-center work, thank GOD) working out. I want it so much it scares me a little bit. Wanting something so bad seems to push it further away. I'm praying about it and psyching myself up with preparing answers to the typical interview questions. I was also sent the computer tests for the agency, so I'll be working on those tomorrow while Ick is with his grandparents.

I asked my step-mother if she would help with bills and she said, "Well your father told you at the beginning (as in, when I had my son) that you couldn't support yourself much less a child and you insisted you could. But you're kind of proving him right. You know he won't let me send you any money." This from the woman who controls the money (and has since day one over 20 years ago). Also this is the first time in over two years I've asked for anything. My "father" also said I was white trash and so was my (deceased) mother's family and that's all my kid would ever grow up to be. When I asked him for the money for a lawyer way back when I was trying to not be forced into returning to Central New York, he said, "You shouldn't have had a kid and I hope they take him away from you." Am I surprised he doesn't want to help? No. Am I surprised my step-mother isn't sending something anyway? Yes. She's sent all kinds of things for my son (her ONLY grandchild in any form, and she has her own son who is married): homemade clothes and baby blankets, toys, etc. She also sewed a t-shirt quilt for me out of a bunch of my old shirts dating back from 4th grade. Clearly she has feelings for me and Ick, but I guess not deep enough to want to help keep us from living on the street.

"Are you really that close to that?" you're probably asking. Well, I still owe on November rent, leaving us short on December's as well and my landlord is losing patience quickly. So, yes. He's threatened me more than once and this apartment doesn't even pass codes.

I want to live in a house (apartment, whatever) that is actually decent for once. No uninsulated 3rd floor sucking up my heat (and money through the electricity/gas bill), no drug-dealer neighbor who has random people in and out of the building until well after 3am, no shouting matches in the common hallway at 7am about water leaks that only the landlord can fix.... I want a home which is something I've never had.

I want a job. I want to be able to go to the craft store and the dollar store and pick out some stuff to decorate my house for the appropriate season. I want to be able to do the crafty things I enjoy but can't do when I can't even pay my regular bills. I want to be able to pay for my cell phone without worrying that I'm spending money that should be going to a different bill and hope utilities stay on long enough for me to make up the difference.

I want to go to school and get a degree (still don't know in what) so that I can move forward with my life, not just along the same lines as the last ten years. I am willing and able to do all the work, studying and showing up that school requires.

I want to be happy. That's it, in a nutshell. As much as I love staying home with my son, that's not an option for me. I don't have a trust fund or lottery winnings. I don't have a husband or boyfriend who works and is willing to let me be a housewife. I, like countless others, have to juggle a toddler (alone), full time job, full time school and all the stresses that go along with that. I'm not complaining because at least I am healthy enough to be able to accomplish all of that. I have the capabilities, strength, intelligence and responsibility; For that I am immeasurably grateful.

But it all amounts to nothing when there is so much crap going on in the world that I cannot control. I can't blame the economy on all my problems because I can name quite a few that I brought on myself. Which, in all reality, is what makes this situation even worse. I look at it as punishment for my grievous mistakes and thank God that He didn't make me suffer more (which He could have). But the longer this goes on, the harder it is to bear. I'm sure in the Bible there are references to people trying to hide their faces from God in shame. That's me right now. I tried really hard to be positive and "give it up to God," but it felt fake to me. In my heart I knew that I was serving penance for my sins and that is something you cannot give to Him. It's like your parents making you do difficult chores as punishment, but as they watch you singing and dancing your way through them because you know they pretty much let you off the hook, they maybe start to think, "Perhaps I wasn't hard enough on them. Maybe they need something more to really drive home the point that they did something wrong so that they'll finally learn they can't do what they did."

Okay, so if I'm being totally honest (which I'm not, not really), that last bit came to me as I was writing this. But it feels right. That paragraph up there is so spot on that it's creepy. I should probably write more about my life even if I don't share it publicly.

Where was I? Right, punishment... In the light of my extremely recent epiphany, I think a little more prayer is in order. I do want this job because it is full time, first shift office work; The exact thing I've been looking for. It's even a dollar more an hour than my last job, so there's another plus right there. And it's temp-to-hire which my last job was not. But instead of praying that I get this job, I can pray about whether or not I've gotten the message about what I've done wrong and how I can go about not doing it again. Then maybe I can pray that I'll get this job.

Because even if I have to work day labor at the landfill (yes, those types of jobs exist), I will do it. I will do whatever I can to put a roof over my baby's head, food on his plate, clothes on his back and toys in his hands. There is no job too "low" if it helps me provide for my child.

So now, I pray. I'd love it if you'd pray with me.

Edit: I want to say a special thank you to @skeri (aka Keri H.) for being so helpful and encouraging during this rough time for me and my little family. Being raised by a single mother gives you a special point of view, doesn't it? I'm glad we met way back in 10th grade and despite the years and distance (and the loss and subsequent regaining of our friendship), you're there for me in a way no one else has been. You're an exceptional person and I'm thankful for you more than you know.

Second edit: My sister and brother-in-law are staying with me. My sister is a stay-at-home and graciously watches my kid for me whenever I ask (rarely, out of respect) and when I work. She'll take care of dinner, dishes, basically the domestic stuff minus my laundry, hah! My brother-in-law is a currently out of work union insulator who is collecting unemployment and, also graciously, is the one paying rent and the household bills. It can't cover everything but it still covers the basics. I'm so thankful that they are here to help and having family close by is always wonderful. Thank you for what you do for me, from the bottom of my heart.

I AM the 99%!

AnonOps Communications: I AM NOT MOVING! #OccupyWallStreet

As I move from day to day, unable to get a job, pay rent or feed my child, I see how vital it is for me to stand up for what is Right. I pray I have the strength to keep moving from day to day. I pray I have the strength to stand up for what is right.

It doesn't stop me from looking for a job. It doesn't stop me from wanting real change in our government and welfare programs. But it does stop me from thinking there is nothing I can do.

Every voice screaming or whispering for equality deserves to be heard.

Change is coming. Real, honest to God change as opposed to the "change" Obama promised thre years ago.

Are you ready? Are you helping? Or are you sitting idly by?

Rough Waters

I haven't posted anything lately because I can't find the desire. The only desire I have is to get some things off my chest.

Currently I am living in a relatively low rent 3 bedroom 2 bedroom (where'd that extra bedroom come from?) apartment. Before I moved in, the landlord didn't paint, repair a bedroom door that has no doorknob because the hole where it goes is torn up, patch a leaky roof, clean the nasty, sticky carpets or do anything, really. My son's paternal grandfather kinda rushed him, so it's halfway understandable. But there was nothing stopping him from fixing those things after we moved in. In August I was let go from a temporary position that I happened to love. I loved the people, the job, the environment, everything about that place made me happy to show up every day. But stuff happens and I knew it was a temp position. I filed for unemployment and made my sorry butt go to Social Services to apply for all the help they could offer. After two weeks of being bullshitted around and two unemployment checks, I received two letters. One from unemployment stating a previous employer (as in, 3 jobs ago) was contesting my unemployment and that my payments were being held pending an investigation. The other letter was from Social Services stating I made too much in unemployment for my 2 person family to get financial assistance (like rent assistance and help with my electric bill). The same letter said I was rejected for EBT (aka food stamps) because I was already getting them (funny, since we've had next to nothing to eat for the last two weeks) and I'd receive a different letter for the results of my Medicaid application. Long story short: No income whatsoever from anywhere and no way to get my kid his 2 yr boosters... *sigh*

I've been in this position before, but I was a single, childless girl barely in her 20s. Now I'm a single mother, almost 30 with a 2yo to feed. I can't be homeless while his mostly absent father waits for any reason to nail me to the floor for no reason other than to prove he can. I won't get into his life because it's a joke and it just makes me even more angry that everyone let him stand there and act like a wronged father when at the first chance, he stopped having anything to do with "his" son whatsoever.

I'm at the end of my rope. I'm "letting" my son's grandparents take him as often as they want because I have next to nothing to feed him. When I say next to nothing, I mean, I fed him 3 spoonfuls of peanut butter for breakfast yesterday. We all know how delicious that is and fun, but as a meal? Maybe if you've decided to semi-starve yourself. He's eaten the last bag of popcorn, the last of the leftover tuna-mac and now we're working on the left over chili-slash-soup from Tuesday. My pantry has 7 cans of random food, from pumpkin to mixed vegetables. The very last thing we have are two chicken breasts, a cup of milk and some flour. I'll probably make chicken and dumplings tomorrow because Ick will be coming home in the afternoon.

I made a call to WIC where I could at least get the bare essentials and was reduced to tears because the woman didn't understand when I told her I was living off of nothing. Literally, nothing. In fact, my bank account is overdrawn because my car insurance (on a 91 Corolla rust bucket) came out when I had fifteen cents to my name.

I could ask my parents for help, but my father once told me that I had no business having a kid and, "I hope they take him away from you." My stepmother sends packages every once in a while with a few items of clothing and maybe a toy for Ick, which is nice, but I can't ask her for financial assistance because she'd have my "dad" to deal with. And she's not exactly a loving, worrying, helping mother type anyway. I do have other family members (they all live in other states) but there's not one person I feel has the ability to just throw money at me. Not that that's what I'm asking for, but that's how it feels.

I've applied to 10 jobs in the last two days. I'm looking, scouring job sites, picking up applications and doing everything in my power to get a job for which I'm qualified (as in, I don't need a college degree). I'm trying to get my uneducated butt in school so I can have a degree so that I, too, can get a job for which I am highly overqualified but for some reason, that's the rule rather than the exception these days. The financial aid will help, too since (as far as I know) I'll be getting a cost of living adjustment (meaning more money).

I'm trying. I'm praying. I'm begging. I'm crying. I don't know what on earth I'm supposed to be doing because I must be missing something. I must be doing something wrong because I see no light at the end of this tunnel. Between thinly veiled threats of eviction, an empty pantry and my tears I see nothing but more of the same.

I've been needing to get these things off my chest and out of my head. I feel bad complaining to the two friends I have because they also have it rough. One is also a single mother (almost divorced) and being forced to pay most of her paycheck to her almost ex so she and her son can stay in the only home her little boy has ever known. My other friend is a newly married wife of a college student, so it's not like they're any better off. My point is, I want to let it out without someone looking away because they're too ashamed to admit they can't help when it's so glaringly obvious I need it. I'm not out to guilt a single person out of a single dollar. I'm out to get these troubles outside of me where they can stop festering as much and let me be, even for a few minutes.

I'm praying and I'll keep praying. I'm trying not to worry and trying to do my best and work as hard as I can towards getting a job and into school. I will get through this, but first I have to go through it.

Better Tomorrows

Yesterday I complained about how I couldn't get anything done. No motivation, no time, blah blah blah... Today I woke up at a decent hour which allowed me to have over an hour all to myself while Ick continued to sleep in bed. It helped that I went to bed at a decent hour as well! This did wonders for my personal peace. I know I won't always get that since we share a room for now, but it's wonderful when I do get it. I was able to sit in the quiet and read my daily Bible verses (reading the Bible in 6 months, First and New Testaments at the same time but in order), and daily devotionals.

Ick finally woke up after 11am (holy crap, 13 hours?!) and he 'helped' me wash the dishes. It's a lot easier when I let him 'help' because then he won't stand next to my leg screaming, "Hold you! Hold you! Hold you!" when all he really wants is for me to pay 100% of my attention to him even while he ignores me. He played in the dish water while I tried to wash dishes around him, heh, it was pretty funny and a heck of a lot less annoying than the whining or screaming!

I managed to get a lot done today. Not in a "in the zone, kickin' ass and takin' names, To Do list is fully crossed off" kind of way. More like, "I got nothing accomplished yesterday, but today I feel good, let's see what I can do between quality time with Ick, FB games and Twitter." Sparing you the list of things I did, let's just say, I'm happy with today. There's more on my To Do list but I'm not worried about it.

All cheesiness aside, that little bit of time in the morning to wake up with some coffee and Christ has made a difference. Yes, it was only one day, but when I suddenly have more patience to handle Ick's tantrums, I feel better physically and time seems to pass more slowly it's hard to ignore the proof.

Since time seemed to pass slower than the last few days, it was like I had more time to do what I needed and wanted to do. Y'all, I cooked dinner! I made muffins! Washed dishes! Cleaned off the mountain that used to be the table where my computer sits! Simply a wonderful feeling.

No, life didn't magically get better because I went back to Christ, but I did have the strength to make this day better than yesterday. And the comfort of knowing who to turn to if I just don't have enough and I may need a boost.

So here's to another good day tomorrow.

On a little final note, I'm up late tonight because I finished a new page on my blog! I'd love it if you gave it a little click and perused the short list of Blogs I Love. I know you'll find some wonderful blogs and great folks. Thanks!

Procrastination, Bad Parenting and Unemployment

I've been reading blogs by some of the lovely ladies and charming gents I've had the pleasure of "meeting" on Twitter. I've come to learn that not every single blog post needs to be four pages of passionate urging or tyrannical bitching. Apparently I'm allowed to write a short little anecdotal paragraph about my day. Hmmm...

Procrastination:
What did I accomplish today? I cleaned up one corner of the kitchen. Just the one. See, I don't have a trash can (one of the many joys of multiple moves in one month... two months ago...) so we set a bag on an extra side table that's stuck in the corner of my kitchen between the stove and fridge. It's really not a good idea. Lots of trash ends up not in the bag: on, around and under that round side table. This morning- Okay, around noon when I woke up, I got fed up and swept all the crap up with one broom while my two year old swung the other one around. I'm really surprised he didn't break anything or give me a black eye! I got everything up and into a city garbage bag (no cans here, I have to buy individual bags at $1.50 a pop every single week) and set it up to finish being filled. I gave up after arguing with Ick about the damn broom. It is not a toy and I still stand by that! I'd have let it go, but he likes to whip it around and who knows what he'll manage to hit? And I can't very well continue to clean when he's screaming at me! I thought I'd take a break and get back to it.

It's kind of amazing how fast the day goes by when you stay up until well after 5am and you don't get up until noon. I can't do anything but laundry after "bedtime" because my neighbors are crazy and I'm not chancing waking up the holy screaming terror in the bedroom!

Let's see, what else...? Oh, right, nothing. So I watched Rio (cute, but oddly lots of loose endings there) and caught up in Cafe World (don't judge me!) and even leveled my Shadowknight in EverQuest2 since it's my last day of subscription. I read a couple of books to Ick, went grocery shopping at two different stores for all of 5 items (I mean, really).

This isn't a boring list of "What I Did Today!" It's more like, "What the hell am I doing with my time and why is my house so filthy when I hate it that way?" I'm at a total loss when it comes to time management, I can't keep a house clean to save my life and I'm a lazy procrastinator. The very worst kind. I'd rather sit on my ass and play games or read than do anything even remotely resembling adult responsibilities.

Bad Parenting:
I'm not spending as much quality time with Ick as I did when I was working. Isn't that weird? I'm around all the time yet I don't really spend much time with him. It's awful and it makes us both miserable. It's back to that time management. Oh and bad parenting. I guess it would help if I went to bed at a normal hour and didn't sleep half the day while he plays nicely in our bedroom, letting me sleep. (He really can be such a sweet boy. Just yesterday he woke me up with, "I woo-uv you!" and lots and lots of kisses!)

I'm not the person I want to be and I'm making strides towards changing that. I really do enjoy those niggling little Facebook games, but lately I'm only playing one instead of the many games I'm a part of. Taking out those distractions will be a huge help I think.

Unemployment:
And I guess I need to apply for some jobs, huh?

(Um, what happened to "short" and "anecdotal?")

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day One: Self Portrait

Today begins my 30 Day Photo Challenge. For a while I have been feeling an undeniable urge to create and this project feels right to me. So I dusted off my camera and searched until I found a great list, read my camera's manual and found out some awesome features. So wish me luck on this journey of beginner's photography and please give feedback!

Day One is a self portrait and sadly, even on the first day I have slacked off and did not take a new one. I am using one from just over a year ago. (Sorry, today was the first day my toddler spent a day with his grandparents in almost two weeks and I was just so excited for some "me time!")

Freshly dyed hair, sarcastic look and a little fall decoration to hide the date/time stamp! I'm still on the fence about whether or not I want to add a little something or slightly Photoshop my images. This one is untouched except for the leaves (and a little dirty-house cropping). I will hopefully be doing a bonus image on a different day with a current self portrait that is a little more staged. I will keep you posted!

Tomorrow is Day Two: What You Wore Today.

To Baby Ick on Your 2nd Birthday

Birthday Boy!

My dear, sweet boy, you turned 2 today. You’ve only been alive for 730 days, but have accomplished much, most notably my unconditional love and annoyance. You have proven to have such an awesome personality and amazing intellect.

You prefer to say words like adorable, triangle, alphabet and elephant instead of dog, cat, tree or Mama. You’re discovering the world around you and ooze enthusiasm. You saw a fan? No doubt I will hear about for the next 15 minutes. You got a boo-boo a week ago? Every time you see the scab on your knee, you mention it, point to it, tell me what it is and follow it up with, “I fall.” You’ve even learned to reprimand others when they do something you’ve been told not to do. Earlier this week Jeremy, Shaggy’s 6 year old son, was standing on my bed. You pointed to him and said, “Fall!” Yes, he will fall if he keeps standing on the bed. Yes, I had him sit down so he wouldn’t fall. You even scold yourself sometimes when you throw your toys. We can work on thinking of that before you throw them.

And the shrieking? Yeah, I’m over that. Please stop it just as soon as you realize it pisses everybody off. Me, NaNa, Uncle David, George, the folks in the 37^th St Cemetery*, and everyone in the grocery store. Even the folks sitting in their cars in the parking lot. Yeah they can hear you, too, you little banshee! *There isn’t a 37^th St Cemetery around here as far as I know, but you get my drift.

When you were in your “in-between” stage, no longer an infant but not quite a toddler, I lamented your lack of affection. There were no hugs, no snuggles, no kisses except at bed time. Now you are constantly saying, “Hold you!” It has got to be in the Top 3 Adorable Things You Say. You will snuggle up in my lap, rest your head on my shoulder and inform me that you are giving me hugs.

You received two different laptops for your birthday, a Fisher Price and a Leapster. I’m slightly disappointed that you prefer the babyish Fisher Price, but I understand the lights attract you more than the darker Leapster screen (even if it does say your name!). Gram also sent a wooden letters and numbers toy with blocks on it that spin, sort of like an abacus (which you can also say and have on several occasions). She said she wanted “old technology and new technology” in the form of toys and thought of how differently you could learn from them and I absolutely love it! You love anything that spins, so this is a major hit with you. You’ve also blown my mind with how many pictures on it that you can name.

I’ve heard you count to ten, watched you tease NaNa by handing her a cup then taking it back when she’s almost got it. I’ve seen you kiss the dog but tell me, “Oh, gross,” when I cough. You’ve even almost got the hang of saying the word of whatever it is you want instead of whining. That’s been a tough thing for you to learn but you are doing such a good job!

In an older blog post I talked about my anxiety about your mental development. I really should learn to listen to the experts (namely, your pediatricians) when they tell me that babies usually have a trade-off: When they are growing physically, mental growth takes a back seat and vice versa. Now you want me to read many little board books in a row and you’ll even point to things and name them. It’s so wonderful to hear you name something new! Even more amazing when I’ve never taught you the word. Just more proof you listen even when you’re pretending not to. You’ll watch an entire episode of a kids’ show and the better part of a movie (especially if it’s Disney’s “Cars”). You love to color, or as you say, “Cudders!” In addition to these wonderful mental developments, you’re a whopping 29lbs, 34in (or so, can’t exactly remember).

The day before your birthday I took you for your 3^rd haircut ever. You screamed and cried, “Hold you! Hold you, Mama!” I laughed and told you that you were fine while my heart broke a little. The wonderful hairstylist talked to you, tried to get you to laugh and not once lost patience with you. Trust me; she deserved that $5 tip! However, you look so much like a little boy and not a baby that it makes me a little heart sick thinking about it. Watching your facial expressions under that shortened ‘do give me a glimpse at what a handsome young man you’re going to be. That minor chin-butt is going to help, too, believe me. Girls really dig those.

While your exuberance and education delight me, they make me sad as well. Watching you grow from newborn to infant to toddler was hard enough. Take your time as you grow into a little boy, okay? I’ll need those wet, smooshy toddler kisses a little longer.

Almost... Got it...

HomeHer11: Acceptance At Last

Note of warning: I imbedded a lot of links. I hope you'll click on them as they lead to wonderful blogs and their amazing authors. I hope you enjoy the videos as much as I did! I did, however, refrain myself from linking everyone's Twitter account to their usernames. You'll just have to find them yourself!
 

Just over a year ago, I joined Twitter with the name @MamaPoodle. Just for fun, just to see who would follow me and who I could possibly find whose daily mini-updates would actually interest me. I tweeted a few times with a couple of hashtags (“Whattags?” I thought) in the hopes of finding others in my situation (never realizing I could find others using said hashtags). I gave up for a while returning to the comfort of Facebook and my real-life friends, coworkers, family and fellow high school graduates.

Only recently did I find out about BlogHer. I’ve read Free Range Lenore and If Mama Ain’t Happy both found through ParentDish (now Huffpost Parents), and followed both on Twitter which led to a few others. I noticed their massive amounts of followers and much smaller number of who they follow. I replied to some tweets and was never acknowledged. So many times I felt just as invisible as I do in my real life. So, as I saw them talking more and more about BlogHer11, I noticed this cute little hashtag: #HomeHer11.

I thought to myself: Now that sounds like something I could be a part of. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into! I opened a new tab in my browser with the search for #HomeHer11 in it and just jumped in. I noticed some witty remarks from some ladies and a few dudes and decided to try my hand. I gained four times the number of followers and followed twice as many “Tweeps” as I did before! I’ve discovered hundreds of blogs, links, and random internet fun this last week. I even secured a position in the HomeHer11 court (Poodle: Good at making Kitten [aka @MagandMoo] jealous) and a mention in someone else’s blog! Whaaat?!

More than networking, chatting and a pretty cool start-up score from Klout (40!), I found support. I found laughter (@NanyaDub), love (@sthrnfairytale), tears (@WhyIsDaddyCryin), mamas (@MayhemMatriarch), and dads (@MrMomWorld).

I’m so socially awkward and shy. I’m terrified of that horrible silence when I say something that I think is witty and apparently no one else does. In social settings, I blend in and try not to feel too bad. HomeHer11 gave me a bit of hope when I found people responding to my tweets and enjoying what I had to say.

As I’m sitting here, there are flashes of videos, pictures and blogs running through my head. All I can think about is the emotional connection that has been made. It’s been made between me and others that I chat with. It’s been made between me and people who don’t even know I exist. Knowing so many others go through the same things I do on a daily basis is enormously relieving. I’m having a hard time getting out what I want to say because I’m a little overwhelmed right now. Excuse me…

Pee break out of the way and now I’m armed with a big ol’ glass of sweet tea! Where was I…?

Sweetest HomeHer11 attendee!

Right, the sob fest. Honestly, as I was following the #HomeHer11 tweets I laughed and had an amazing time. Being new to the whole blogging world (only now forcing myself into regular updates), I never wanted/expected/thought about going to BlogHer11 so I’m not upset about not getting swag, not meeting “blogging celebrities,” and not attending parties and conferences and sessions. And anyway, I got to attend laundry parties, “Changing Diapers on a Screaming Toddler” and “Popcorn and Blogging” sessions and many more. I even got swag. Mary (@marybeauty) started a fun game called “Go Look Under the Washer and In Your Couch Cushions” to see what you could find. I got Oreo crumbs, a toy truck and even a nickel! I was feeling sick (still am, a bit) and stopped by the Medicine Cabinet booth (credit to Mary again for that one!) to snag some NyQuil. There was fun to be had by all, actual contests and new friends to be made. There are videos, even!

 

 #HomeHer (featuring @theaumsmama and @sixyearitch)

~and~

 HomeHer11 (@NanyaDub)

~and~

 HomeHer11 Welcomes Home BlogHer - Verseo.com Picture Contest (@marybeauty)

One year I’d like to attend BlogHer, even if only to say that I’ve gone and done that whole thing. I’d also love a chance to meet the fabulous folks I’ve been chatting with. (God bless social media, I must say.) For now, I am pleased and touched to be a part of something so large in its scope and reach: across numerous time zones and right into our hearts.

Thank you to everyone who replied, retweeted or silently enjoyed my contributions. Thank you for widening my world of Twitter and social media. Thank you for the laughs, the blogs, the pictures. Most of all, thank you for sharing your life, even the not so happy moments of fear and self-doubt. You give encouragement to so many, even if you don’t realize it. That weak moment gave others the courage to keep going because we find that we are not alone in our mistakes in life, parenting or whatever. That happy day gave hope to us in dark times and a chance to share our own happy memories.

HomeHer11 wasn’t just a pity party about who couldn’t or just didn’t go to BlogHer11. It was a connection of real people and it was wildly successful on so many levels. I hope that I’m able to touch lives the way mine was at HomeHer11.

See you at HomeHer12!

Think For Yourself: Why Book Banning Should Be Banned

I went to the local library in Utica, NY on Saturday to find something new to read. I’d been given a few suggestions on authors to check out and I was hoping I could find something to catch my interest. Oh, boy did I! My sister pointed to a small flyer in the bottom corner of the bulletin board and said, “Book banning? Really?” Out of utter disbelief, I stopped to read the flyer entitled, “Censorship? Banning Books? CAN A BOOK GO TOO FAR?” It went on to announce an open forum brought to you by the Utica Library in partnership with the Utica College to discuss banning American Psycho writtenby Bret Easton Ellis. “A literary classic or offensive trash? WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

Immediately I recalled a movie I’d seen starring Christian Bale called “American Psycho”. I had flashes of bloodstains, electric knives, and horrible 1980’s fashion. I had absolutely no idea this movie was a book! Then, in red and underlined I saw that those who signed up to attend would be given a FREE copy of the book. Whaaaat? Free? I love free! And it was a book to boot! So on the way out my sister signed up- who needs two copies?- and we immediately started discussing book banning.

Neither of us had read this book and my sister hadn’t even seen the movie but she immediately said, “No, it shouldn’t be banned! Learn to think for yourself, teach your kids the same and you wouldn’t need to call for banning books. Or movies or video games, for that matter.” Before sitting down to write this, I surfed around online trying to find some more information on this banning. I read somewhere that the movie was considered the next “FightClub.” Have you read that book by Chuck Palahniuk? Or any of his other books? He’s quite violent and freakish, but I’ve never heard of any of his books being banned. But I digress. (For the record, I’ve loved every single book by Chuck Palahniuk I’ve ever read.) 

American Psycho has been called, “… a how-to novel on the torture and dismemberment of women.” (Tammy Bruce, LA coordinator of the National Organization for Women.) Never mind the black homeless man he kills. Never mind the puppy. Never mind the other homeless man and his dog. Never mind the main character’s own white, male coworker. No, it’s nothing but a woman-hating book.

 This novel is the life and deteriorating psyche of a 1980’s Wall Street Yuppie. His life is nothing but surface. His life is money, designer clothes, women, drugs and expensive food and alcohol. The women are just as, if not more, superficial than the main character, Patrick Bateman and his “friends.” The author felt his life was empty and devoid of meaning and substance. He was angry at society and his life. Frustrated. So he wrote this book. He wrote a character that could do those horrible things we imagine in our blackest hearts (or imagine others are imagining)… Or could he? The book and the movie both leave you wondering if he really did all those horrible things or if he just imagined doing them, whiling away his time at the office.

 

Currently, I am more than halfway through reading the book. I’m so distracted by the descriptions of food, what everyone’s wearing and drinking that I can hardly keep interest in the gore that comes along. I am not more disgusted by the violence towards women than the violence toward everyone else. I’m equally horrified. I’m equally grossed-out by the blood whether it was spilled from a man, woman, child or animal.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I personally do not like the book, I think the movie as a horror/comedy flick is generally okay but I will most likely not be rereading or reviewing them any time soon. I still don’t think it should be banned. Banning a book is like killing someone because you don’t agree with their opinions. What happened to freedom of speech? Isn’t that the very First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States? Freedom of religion, speech, to peaceably assemble and to petition the government for a redress of grievances. This book does not commit a crime and neither did the author. If you don’t like what it represents, then, by God, voice that opinion! You have that right! Teach your children the correct way to behave (“No, honey, we don’t slice open women’s vaginas and put rats in them. You be nice to the girls, okay?”) and when they come across such behavior in books or wherever, they will be dutifully shocked and horrified.

If you can teach your children that there is more to life than the price tag and a title, then they won’t end up like Patrick Bateman: barely holding onto their sanity and drowning in a life obsessed with what’s on the surface.

It is our job as parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, care-givers, and lovers of children to teach them to love, be kind, strive for happiness and fairness. They need us to teach them the Golden Rule: Treat others as you want others to treat you. If they learn nothing else, that will guide them through life wonderfully.

If you can do your job as someone who raises a child, you will feel no need to ban books. Books are a gateway to entertainment, education, excitement, imagination. On the religious side, if you can help instill a strength of faith in your kids, then you have no fear of evil entering your child through external stimuli. I know that my faith is strong enough.

It’s hard enough for me to find peers nearing the end of their 20’s who like to read. Do you really want the next generation to avoid it altogether? I spent a great deal of my childhood reading and thanks to that, I feel quite confident of my spelling, grammar and vocabulary. Between grade school and middle school I read Of Mice and Men and Cannery Row by John Steinbeck, IT by Stephen King, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. In high school I read The Grapes of Wrath also by Steinbeck. In more recent years, I’ve read Lord of the Flies by William Golding, the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling, the Lord of the Rings trilogy by J. R. R. Tolkein, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger. Did you know almost all of those books have been banned? At one time or another it was illegal to sell, buy or possess these books. The Color Purple is on that list as well. When I found the link I got more indignant as I went down the list. I’d already heard that in lieu of banning Huckleberry Finn, they just wanted to omit the “n-word” because it is a racial slur. It’s called vernacular. Look it up in the dictionary. That’s that giant book that tells you what every word in our language means. While you’re at it, please look up the words tolerant, peace, love and respect.

I am all for movie and TV show ratings. I am all about protecting children from things they are too young to be aware of. I am not, however, all about anyone telling me what I can and cannot read. Before you know it, you’ll be telling me what to watch, what to listen to, what to wear, what to eat and what to think.

 

If you have any doubts about overbearing censorship or book banning, I suggest you read one incredibly and insistently important book. Fahrenheit451 by Ray Bradbury gives us a glimpse into a world where books are not allowed. Where firemen do not put out fires, but start them in the homes of those found to possess books. It’s a short novel but timeless, thoughtful and slap-you-in-the-face honest.

Now I ask you: Do you agree that some books should be banned completely? Sold only to those over the age of 18? Do you think it starts a never ending crusade of socialism and communism? What do you think?

The American INjustice System, Part Two: National Criminal Cases

*Disclaimer: This post is incredibly long as I am passionate and longwinded. I hope you’ll stick around for the whole thing. Thanks for visiting.*

In the first part I covered my depressing and degrading experience with the American INjustice System, specifically the NYS Supreme Family Court. In this second part I’d like to cover some criminal cases from around the country that have been brought to my attention. There are three cases that I’d like to touch on.

One is, of course, the Casey Anthony murder trial. However, I am not out to beat a dead horse or remind anyone of such a horrible tragedy and outrageous injustice on the part of little Caylee.

The second case is of one Marco Sauceda. He is a 30 year old man with the mind of a child who was mistaken for a burglar in his own house and subsequently convicted of evading arrest, found guilty by a jury.

The third case is of an Atlanta, GA woman, Raquel Nelson. She is a single mother of 3. Her son was hit by a drunk driver (who was also on pain meds and partially blind in his left eye), she was charged with vehicular manslaughter and found guilty by a jury. 

Let’s begin with the hugely infamous murder trial of Caylee Anthony. Personally, I believe she is 100% guilty of not reporting her daughter’s “disappearance,” wrongful disposal of a body and murder. All this time I’ve been raging against the jury for the “not guilty” verdict. How could 12 adults really and truly feel this woman was not guilty of all charges?! It’s like saying the sky isn’t blue, it’s neon pink. My sister then raised this very valid point: “The prosecutor and DA pushed to try her before they truly had enough evidence to convict her. They should have charged her with unlawful disposal of a body because then they could have held her while they gathered evidence to charge her with murder.” My sister is absolutely right. Because of double jeopardy Casey Anthony cannot be charged again for the same murder. We the public knew more about the case than the jury as they are not allowed access to media during the trial. As more evidence came to light before our eyes, they remained ignorant. So when their verdict came back we were outraged and rightly so. I challenge you to find ten people who think Casey Anthony is innocent of the worst crime against another human, much less your own flesh and blood. Forget ten, find three and get back to me. The jury, however, had no idea. Until they left the courtroom. I’d hate to be one of those jurors, wouldn’t you? As you get angrier while you’re reading this, I am not justifying any actions of anyone involved in this ludicrous show of justice. That is all this was: a show put on for the public and no real attempt at getting justice for those responsible for the murder and disgusting “burial” of a truly innocent life. Now Casey has attained celebrity status and will gain monetary rewards for her crimes. A coworker of mine said, “She’ll get hers, don’t worry. She’ll blow through her money and be out on the street and not a single person will help her. She’ll get hers.” It’s up to you, karma. It’s up to You, God.

Let’s drop that (phew!) and move on to Mr. Sauceda. A neighbor called the police reporting they had seen a black man kick in the front door of Marco’s house. Police arrived on the scene and entered the house while Marco ran into the bathroom and locked himself in. He does not speak English and like I said before, has the mind of a child. He refused to come out of hiding because he was scared. When police finally broke down the bathroom door, they used pepper spray, a pepper ball gun and wrestled him to the ground in his own living room. The prosecutor said with “police” and the Spanish “policia” being so similar the language barrier is no excuse. He could have said, “Me llamo Marco. Es me casa.” (“My name is Marco. This is my house.”) However, if strangers barged into your house screaming and yelling, where is your child going to go? He is going to run and hide! Prosecutors said his actions were consistent with a criminal and that is why they were charging him; it’s their job. Because Mr. Sauceda did not take the stand in his own defense, the sentencing judge said he found it difficult to sympathize with him. He said, “I don’t agree with the notion you are a victim in this case.” However, before issuing their verdict the jury sent the following note to Judge Flournoy:

 

“We’ve all reached a verdict. To us we feel he has been wronged. Please consider that in his sentencing.”

Without that note, Judge Flournoy says he would have sentenced Marco to six months in jail. Instead he sentenced him to 30 days in jail and a $500 fine. Mr. Sauceda’s lawyer, Mr. Ryan Deaton, intends to pursue a federal civil lawsuit against the city on Sauceda’s behalf which should take place January or February of next year. I am angry with this judge and with Marco’s lawyer. The judge had no way to know firsthand if Marco had the mind of a child without him speaking for himself. On the other hand, after such brutal force, was it really necessary to give him jail time and a fine? Why not just a fine and be done with it? And once again, I’m angry with the jury! I don’t believe for one second he was purposely evading arrest. He clearly had no real idea what was going on and felt very unsafe. If the neighbor reported a black man, why were they beating on an obviously Mexican one? Eye witnesses are often unreliable, but who confuses black with Mexican or Spanish? Ridiculous all around!

Finally, and most dear to me, is Raquel Nelson. Raquel is a black, 30 year old single mother of three: two girls and a boy. After grocery shopping at Wal-Mart with all three, she missed a public bus transfer forcing them all to wait an hour and a half for the next bus. Have you ever had to do that? I have, but not with three kids. Three tired and hungry kids. Whiney kids. So they finally get to their stop on the side of a five-lane speedway, their apartment in sight straight across said speedway. Her four year old son squirmed away from her while they were on the median waiting for cars to pass. Wouldn’t you know it, here comes a drunk driver who’d had “three or four” beers, two pain killers and was partially blind in his left eye, barreling down the road towards this little boy and his family. Ms. Nelson and her younger daughter had minor injuries and her older daughter was physically unhurt.

Recap over, the drunk driver plead guilty to a hit and run (!!!) and served six months of his two year sentence. He is currently serving five-year probation. After he’d been convicted of two hit and runs in the same day (February 17^th, 1997). He was originally charged with hit and run, first degree homicide by vehicle and cruelty to children but the last two were dropped and I haven’t been able to find out why. Raquel has been charged and convicted of homicide by vehicle in the second degree, crossing roadway elsewhere than at crosswalk and reckless conduct. (I’d like to add my sister is partially blind in her left eye due to a childhood injury, but she never drives drunk or while taking pain meds. The “partially blind” part just seems like the icing on a drunken, drugged cake.)

Never mind that the bus stop was a third of a mile from the nearest crosswalk. Never mind every single other passenger who got off at the same stop did the same thing she did and crossed in the middle of the street. Never mind all that. As David Goldberg said, “What about the highway designers, traffic engineers, transit planners and land use regulators who allowed a bus stop to be placed so far from a signal and made no other provision for a safe crossing; who allowed – even encouraged, with wide, straight lanes – prevailing speeds of 50-plus on a road flanked by houses and apartments; who carved a fifth lane out of a wider median that could have provided more of a safe refuge for pedestrians; who designed the entire landscape to be hostile to people trying to get to work and groceries despite having no access to a car? They are as innocent as the day is long, according to the solicitor general’s office.”

I signed a petition at Change.org for Ms. Nelson. It asked for her release as she was facing three years in prison and for a crosswalk at that location. At her sentencing this past Tuesday, July 26^th, Cobb County Judge Katherine Tanksle was handed this petition signed by over 140,000 people nationwide. This compassionate judge gave Raquel a choice: 12 months’ probation and community service or a new trial. This keeps this woman out of jail for now and hopefully for good and gives her the chance to clear her name before a new jury. Hopefully this jury will be made out of her actual peers. The first jury was all middle-class whites who had never taken a bus in metro Atlanta. I have and it’s a huge pain! And it was just me then!

I would like to ask you to visit Change.org and sign this petition. I have a small child and if, God forbid, anything like this ever happened, I’m not sure I’d be functional, let alone sane enough to sit through a trial basically saying I’m the one responsible for the demise of my little boy.

Out of the three stories I picked only one has a happy ending, and it’s really only a hiatus. How is it that we have come so far from compassion and common sense? What world is this that we allow a child killer to walk free while another mother who watched her son get hit by a drunk driver is convicted of vehicular manslaughter? There are so many injustices in this world that get me going. The more passionate I get, the louder I get and people laugh at my vehemence.

But how is anything ever going to change if we don’t show the passion it takes to really make a difference?