Sparks and Butterflies

**An aside having nothing to do with the topic… I went and got help. My son’s therapist (conflict of interest much?) is seeing me through another service she works with for adults with a spiritual bent. For? $40 a week. Considering I priced therapists at $125-$175 – I’ll take it. So, I’m getting the help I need, and I feel more in control already. Like… I recognized it and am moving forward before things get really bad. This is good. I’m not saying it’s not an ongoing struggle, but I feel as if it can’t go into an uncontrollable spiral because between my husband and therapist, there are people to see when my inner demons are too much to bear. It’s not just me alone. That helps.

OK. It’s my journal, right? Major historic happenings. Osama Bin Laden. Dead. Why am I not elated? Why am I not chanting USA! USA! USA! Because death was involved.

Please don’t get me wrong. I am relieved. One less truly evil man in the world. One less who killed so many. One less who holds so much hate for others. Justice of major proportions for those personally effected by the attacks he perpetuated, and for the country he defamed and scared witless.

But my lack of elation is twofold. I think it’s wrong to celebrate, truly celebrate another human being’s death. I feel it was justified, but we don’t have to revel with joy in the necessity. It feels wrong to me on a very spiritual level. Justice does not equal joy. The other reason? The battle is not over. Where he was one, there are many more. Please don’t let your sense of closure make you think it’s over. No. It’s not. Please don’t let it make you complacent.

Am I wrong? I’m I a horrible American? I hope not. I’m almost ashamed to say, I’m glad he’s dead. Another human being. I’m glad he’s dead. I watch the videos of people leaping to their death, and I’m glad he’s dead. Everything in me that loves Life itself, cringes from that fact. But I am not ecstatic.

Before I share the link with you, let me explain where I’m coming from.  I have a child with mental issues.  I told the school going in that they were there, and they refused to provide services, an evaluation, or early intervention.  As a result, due to their “zero tolerance” policy, my child was almost expelled from school for expressing his anger.  At the age of 5.  Unable to attend another district school.  What I did in that case was fight tooth and nail for an IEP, which would then provide him protections under the disabilities act.  It forced them to help my son rather than kick him out.  And yet, another child tormented mine for YEARS.  But he never did anything that came under the “zero tolerance” policy.  The result of that?  My son being institutionalized when he couldn’t take any more.  Then one of the “patients” tried to kill my child by choking him to death.  That was a fun middle of the night phone call.

You tell me, which was worse?  What did the most damage?  My son getting pissed off at his teacher at the age of 5 (when they still get naps in school for God’s sake) or my son being driven into a mental institution?  We have had to fight long and hard for my son to have an atmosphere where they are helping my son instead of “managing” my son.

Think about your kids, what they do, what the consequences should be, and what they currently are.  What is it going to do to their psyche in the long run?  I am very far from the touchy-feely earth momma, terrified to allow their precious child’s “creativity” be stifled.  We’re highly disciplined around here.  We maintain serious control.  Because of my kids’ issues, it provides safety and sanity for them.  However – as “mean” as we are, we are able to understand the difference between play and violence, toys and firearms, playacting versus intent, and when they are just being kids.

This isn’t about politics.  This is about my child.  This is about how it effected my son.  The long term issues have been such a struggle stemming back to that one day.  And now?  Will he be able to have his dreams?  Since it wasn’t a criminal matter – even though the police got involved without ever talking to me – because he wasn’t charged with a crime, I can’t have his “record” sealed.  Background checks will now show mental institutionalization.  He has wanted for years to become a Marine like his dad.  Will he ever be able to now?

Here’s the article: Zero Tolerance Policies: Are the Schools Becoming Police States?

*note – I totally know an apostrophe goes in “it’s” – apparently my template has decided it’s a no-no in a blog title.

Remember my post on the new TSA Regulations? Sexual assault and privacy and all that?  Well, the ramifications of the policy are starting to come out.

The TSA ejected a passenger who refused a “groin check.” My favorite line?

“You touch my junk and I’m going to have you arrested,” Tyner can be heard telling the TSA agent as his cell phone camera captured the ordeal.

And someone from our very own blogging world has been effected.  I mean really.  Who doesn’t want their labia and breasts touched?  A line you should think about?

“It is acceptable and encouraged that a TSA government official can do something to an American citizen that US military personnel cannot do to a member of the Taliban.”

I again repeat myself – I don’t care.  I, as a rape survivor, don’t think I can fly now.  What if they choose me for an “enhanced” pat down?  What if they want me to go through that full body scan for all the world to see?  What if I have to fly due to a funeral and completely lose my shit?

When my brother committed suicide, my mom tasked me with bringing all her pictures of him in frames for the memorial.  Due to the frames, I couldn’t bring it on the plane with me.  They lost them.  They lost my mother’s only photos of my brother.  We were able to get them back in two days – literally we picked them up from the airport on the way to the funeral.  What happened in the airport when I found out they lost them?  Completely lost my shit – the big ugly snot cry, “You-u-u don’t understan-nd-nd…  I have to tell this to my mo-o-o-ther.”  Now, imagine the same scenario, which I already know is a possibility – since it happened – along with having been reminded physically of my rape.

Just take me to the psych ward, ’cause I’ll probably need to be medicated.

It’s common basic stranger danger mentality.  Don’t touch me, and I won’t touch you.  I can’t seem to articulate well enough how bad and wrong these new regulations are.

I have alluded to this in the past on the blog, but I’ve never come out and said it before.  Since it pertains to my reaction to the story I’ll share with you, I need to state it clearly.  I am a rape survivor.  I was raped twice, and (just) physically beat up once.  I survived.  While I’ve dealt with most of the crushing issues that come from surviving, I do still deal with certain ongoing ramifications.  Some examples… My husband is the only person on this earth who can come up to me from behind and touch me, and me not react negatively.  He’s the ONLY person I can show physical affection for and receive physical affection from easily.  In reality what does that mean?  I have to work exceptionally hard at showing physical affection to my children.  I have to fight very hard to never wince or cringe when they come up from behind me in the course of our daily life.  I have to fight very hard to not withdraw from them when they physically reach out to me.  I have to mentally prepare myself before friends see me, as they will expect (rightfully so) hugs.  Before we visit my best friend, I have to give myself a talking to that her husband will not hurt me, he loves me, he likes me, and he will touch and hug me.  His love for me is due to his accepting me in his life as part of his wife’s life.  He has no interest in me physically, and he loves his wife.  These are things I have to tell myself so I don’t elbow him through his nasal cartilage, while simultaneously trying to gouge his eyes out with my fingers.  Because he put his hand on my shoulder while handing me a  drink.  My children deserve my affection.  My friends deserve my affection.  Physical affection is healthy.  I know this and so I work very hard at it every single day.  And I think it’s working, because my children and friends come to me for affection, nurturing, and love.  I’m successful at fighting and scratching against myself to give them that.  I’m OK with doctors, I think due to the rubber gloves.  But many doctors will use their bare hands for breast exams (I think due to sensitivity issues) and I cry every time.  But I’m trying.  It’s a process.  A long one.  My assaults happened before I knew my husband, and I’ve been married for 12 years.

Warning to my conservative Christian friends, the link I’m about to give is to a Pagan news service.  Just want to warn you.  I found this story.  Go read it.

Now that you’ve read it, think about what it means.

Think about sending your children through the scanners.  Think about the enhanced pat down if you refuse.  If this becomes the norm, I’m truly unsure I’ll be able to fly.  After talking to my husband, who is incredibly protective of me, he said, “I think I would have to drop anyone who thought putting his hands on your tits is OK, other than your doctor.”  He understands what this would mean to me.  You could also say, “well, go through the scanner!”  One, there are radiation issues.  Kind of like a doctor.  Once every blue moon is fine, but beyond that, you need the lead drape.  What about the frequent travel fliers?  At one time I was flying twice a week for three months.  And I know many who travel even more.  Two, it’s an invasion of your privacy.  In front of everyone in the security line.  I thought the body scan would be like an Xray.  Very impersonal.  I saw the exemplar.  I could see his penis very clearly (and his love handles).

The whole thing scares me for oh, so many reasons.

At dinner tonight, we’re having another discussion with the kids about our privates, and who’s allowed to touch them, and for what reasons.

Below the fold, you’ll find a video (if it hasn’t yet been pulled.)  First things first:  It is really bloody, really gory, disgusting, and should absolutely not be watched if children are in the room.  I’m really not kidding about that – it’s very disturbing.

This was a “funny” commercial in the UK.  People were so disturbed by it that it’s been pulled off the air – but alas – it lives on in the internet.  It’s about consequences for not reducing your carbon emissions – specifically the 10:10 project it’s advertising.  It was supposed to be humor.  I don’t see the humor.

And I’ll probably be freaked out forever by the words, “No pressure.”  This right here is why we say there’s an agenda.  This right here is an example of some of our deep down fears.  This right here is in your face.  If you have any inkling of advertising, marketing, and publicity, you know this was seen by many people before it was put on the air.  And they all thought it was OKAY. (more…)

*Disclaimer:  This is an experiment in thought and “what ifs.”  I have no interest in creating a “movement.”  I am not currently part of a movement.  I am a registered voter with opinions.

As with most Americans, Poe and I have been very political minded the last 2 years.  Election, Democrat, Republican, Independent, Libertarian, health care, etc. are all words that have been bantered about between us of late.  Late one night in bed, we were falling asleep.  We had just watched some political TV programming we are fans of.  Sleepy, but minds churning, we started mapping out the following scenario.

What if we split the country in half?  Two Americas.  United States of Western America, and United States of Eastern America.  The states themselves would remain intact, so it would be a jagged line up the middle.  The western half would be the right side of the political spectrum, the eastern half would be the left side of the political spectrum.  You have 30 days to decide which side of the spectrum your personal beliefs fall into.  You are to choose freely, but you MUST choose.  After your decision is made, you have 90 days to get you there.  There would be relocation centers to help you find jobs and move, should your choice take you to the other side of the country.  Once the move is in place, federal responsibilities would be split in half.  The national debt?  Halved.  The US Treasury?  Halved.  Current military?  Halved.  So on and so forth.  Federal taxes would obviously go towards support of your new half of the country.

While communication and travel would be freely shared (with passports of course) nothing else would.  You could not work over the national line, you must work and have residence in your own half.  No bartering, trade, services, utilities, natural resources, etc. could go over the national line.  The governments would choose how to run their own government.  They would decide their own foreign policy, foreign debt, immigration laws, participation in organizations like NATO and the United Nations, defense strategy, military, etc.  There would be a treaty in place that no fighting happened over the line.

The experiment stays in place for 20 years.  Short enough to turn back, long enough to get some data.

What happens?  Who keeps a republic?  Who keeps the Constitution?  Who enters wars?  Who solves international peace situations?  Who has a better unemployment rate?  Who has a higher median income?  Who has cleaner streets, less crime, safer lives?  Who is free?  How has artistic endeavors evolved?  Who has less debt?  Who has better health?  Who has a better education?  Who has better transportation?  Who has evolved further technologically?  Do the two countries come back together as a whole, or do they work better as separate entities?

If you start thinking about specific personal issues, specific personal lives, and take the current system out of the equation it starts getting interesting.  If you could start a brand new country, what would it look like?  How would it work?  How would it evolve?

St. Patrick’s Day is right around the corner, and it’s not the luck of the Irish that will keep the roads safe… it’s planning now for a safe and sober way home.

Are you headed out with friends after work this Wednesday to celebrate the holiday?  No?  Well when you and your family are on the road headed to choir practice, a t-ball game, or coming home from school, you may be sharing the road with those returning from a fun St. Patrick’s Day event.  It’s time to spread the word about the dangers of buzzed driving and to remind people that Buzzed Driving IS Drunk Driving, and the best way to stay safe is to plan ahead.

Let’s remind everyone about the importance of remembering to:

• Designate a sober driver before you leave for your event.
• Be ready to take alternate transportation such as a bus or taxi. Have the phone number of a taxi service stored in your phone before you leave for the party.

Even if you will not be celebrating this St. Patrick’s Day, keep in mind that in 2008, 1,179 people in other vehicles were killed in crashes involving alcohol-impaired drivers.  And for those who don’t plan on over-indulging – a buzzed driving crash looks the same as a drunk driving crash.

Global Influence is working with the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) and the Ad Council as they continue their efforts with the “Buzzed Driving is Drunk Driving” PSA campaign.  Buzzed drivers drink and drive, but do not consider themselves a hazard on the roadway because they have had “only a few” drinks. The campaign hopes to educate people that consuming even a few drinks can impair driving and that “Buzzed Driving is Drunk Driving.”

We need your help in keeping the roads safe for everyone this St. Patrick’s Day by spreading the word that buzzed driving IS drunk driving.

To learn more about the impact buzzed driving can have on a life, please watch this important video about the financial and personal repercussions of getting a DUI.

Remember: Buzzed Driving IS Drunk Driving. Plan ahead and ask your loved ones to do the same.

For more information, visit Buzzed Driving Is Drunk Driving on Facebook and Twitter (@Buzzeddriving).

As any parent knows, mornings can be rough.  Kids need to be fed, dressed, hygiene attended to, the various items of the day – lunches, homework, jackets etc. all settled upon.  Depending on the number of children, this can look like a zoo.  Now, add the fact that it’s morning, and people are moving slower.  Add the idea of one bathroom for four people.  Poe (being unemployed) and I (being a home business owner) have the advantage over other working parents in that we don’t have to get ready right that second too.  We get up way before them… But that’s more for our sanity, and so we’re not in our grumpy morning attitudes when we get them up.  I’m able to get a start on my workday and know what fires have cropped up during the night.  Not to mention ingesting coffee prior to the stampede.

So – Poe and I are both in our pajamas for the most part when dropping kids off.  Then we can come home and get ready ourselves, without playing referee with our kids.  And you know what?  This works for us.

Enter this idiotic thing…  School Bans Parents from Wearing PJ’s at Drop Off.  Whatever.  Seriously.  You know what?  If I’m in MY car, I get to wear whatever I want.  If I’m on foot, I STILL get to wear whatever I want.  What’s important is that my children arrive to school fed, clean, rested, and prepared.  When I was working outside the home, and I had to be ready to go at the same time as the kids, it only made our morning preparations MORE chaotic.  I like the way I’ve got things going now.  I think something else that’s interesting to note is the complete disdain the principal seems to have for parents in general – regardless of their attire.

Seriously?  Stay out of my business.  Concentrate more on educating my child.  That’s your job, right?

My readers run the gamut.  PR people read it, friends read it, online friends (read: we haven’t met in person yet) read it, strangers read it.  I don’t think any family actually reads here, but I know some family know about it.

I hold certain views, that I haven’t fully fleshed out here on the blog.  But due to those views, I’m making some preparations around my household.  I have a request of you all – my readers.

Because much of our correspondence happens online, the resources that uses – at least on my end – consist of a computer, electricity/battery combo, dsl/wireless combo, blog platform usage, email usage, and comment and/or networking site usage.

What if that all goes away?  What if we lose the internet?  What if we lose electricity?  What if we lose the phones?

Here’s where my request comes in…  If you wish to stay connected to me, offline, please get me your contact information.  How much info you give me is, of course, up to you.  My thoughts are phone numbers (including landline,) home addresses, email addresses, and any other information you would like to pass on to me.  I will reciprocate.  This is, of course, for those of you  I consider friends, and those who consider me a friend.  Someone you want to hear from even if we couldn’t connect online.

If you want to send me your info – don’t comment! You don’t want that info all over the internet!  Send me an email at sparksfley at gmail dot com.  I’ll send my own back to you as well.

They are all younger than my 4th grader. Goodness, the talent in those little girls.