Sparks and Butterflies

One thing we’ve been working on around here is emergency preparation.

One teacher I follow on YouTube said this about her stash: These are my earthquake-fire-emp-mayan calendar-bible apocolypse – economic disaster – zombie apocalypse supplies.

To which I say, “Exactly.” You see, you never-ever-ever know what can or is going to happen. Never.

Right now, I think the country is on a dangerous, teetering precipice. It could all go really really good, or really really bad, really really fast. In addition there are a ton of spiritual teachings about times we seem to be in, everything from ultimate natural disaster, to Biblical end times, to human enlightenment. And finally, I live in southern California. Can anyone say “earthquake?” And believe me when I say – that’s not fear speaking. In 1989, I remember watching the footage of the Loma Prieta quake. I remember the 1994 Northridge quake.

But the kicker for me was the 1987 Whittier Narrows quake. It was an experience I will never ever forget. It happened at 7:42am on October 1st. It was a 5.9 whose epicenter was a mere 15 miles from us. Three days later there was a 5.6 aftershock. One person died when he was caught in a landslide. One person died at CalState L.A. when a concrete slab fell on her. There were 5 more indirect deaths.

I was in 7th grade. School started at 7:50am. My first period was P.E., so I was in the locker rooms under the gym, changing my clothes. Because of the time, pretty much everyone was on campus, but not in their homerooms yet. When it hit, I was literally standing on one foot trying to put on a sock. At first, I sincerely thought I was going to pass out, ’cause the room started spinning. I though, “Oh God – how embarrassing.” Then the tiles started falling off the showers. Then the lockers started falling into each other like dominoes. I got hit in the head by one. We ran out, and ran over to the football field. That was a bit difficult, as since we weren’t in our homerooms, the teachers didn’t have any attendance rolls yet to determine if anyone was missing. I had no shoes or socks on. Another kid from my class (also changing for PE) had no shirt. We sat on the field and watched aftershocks come through like ocean waves. When parents started coming and the group was smaller we were moved to the cafeteria. I remember when we moved, Mr. Kissell, my Algebra teacher, carried me. I was barefoot, and there was broken glass everywhere. We watched, as hazmat crews came, looking like astronauts, due to all the spilled chemicals in the chemistry labs. We watched as people in hard hats came and taped off parts of the school with caution tape due to structural damage. One boy broke his leg after falling down the stairs. When the group was just a few of us, they moved us to the office.

Finally, my sister-in-law came and picked me up. She just had a feeling I was still there, and popped in to check. That was around 2pm. I burst into tears. I had spent all day there with no sign of my parents. When she took me home, my mom was there all nonchalant. “Oh, you mean they closed the school?” “Oh, you mean the lack of electricity, phones, and major earthquake wasn’t a CLUE?” First, she went out to check on my grandmother, then just went home, figuring the school would take care of me. I’m still bitter. We have had a couple of emergencies at my kids’ school, and I have been right there, front and center, every time. I never ever want my kids to feel the way I did that day. Abandoned, scared, and worried that my family was dead. Because why else would they not come and get me? It had a profound effect on me.

Then, of course, there was the Station fire, which started in our hills and turned into the largest fire disaster recorded in Los Angeles County.

My point is… Be prepared. Have a meeting place, both near your house, and away from home. Have food. Have water. Know how to turn off your water, gas, and electricity. Have a solar or crank radio so you can hear what’s going on. Think about what you would need to cook with, bathe with, etc. if you have no utilities. Have a pack ready for evacuation. Educate yourself. Prepare yourself.

We have two emergency 3-day, 4-person backpacks. One at home, and one in the truck. Food/Water, blankets, first aid kits, gloves, tools, glowsticks, emergency radios and more. I’m slowly building my water supply and freeze dried food supplies. We’re pretty prepared now for 2 weeks. I want one more week, and then I’ll start preparing for more long term. Bulk food that can be made without power sources, seeds, and more in case something REALLY bad happens and we’re on our own for longer. One problem we have in our area is that if our water gets cut off due to damage or something, we can’t drink the water here in wells. JPL’s rocket testing in the 40′s and 50′s contaminated our ground water. They’re cleaning it up but they anticipate another 30 years before that’s complete. So – we’re definitely stocking on water, as we don’t have a local source other than what comes through the tap. These are the things I’m talking about. Think. Prepare. Prepare for your local area, your local/personal needs.

Are you prepared?

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.

I was a band geek…  No, I was a Super Band Geek!  I was in color guard (parade, field show, winter guard) and band (parade, field show, concert, and drum circuit.)  Competition was had, trophies won, new songs and moves learned, and trips taken.  Judges, and medals, uniforms, and more…  It was interesting how I pulled it off.  I truly don’t know that I would have survived high school had I not had that focus and, well, forced community.  It was an important part of my life, and a lot of things surrounding it effected the person I became today.  My family life wasn’t good at the time, and I was able to be a part of something and learn how to participate in a team.

My guard coach, Chuck, passed away recently.  I’m awaiting details, but since he was local to me, I’ll make every attempt to go to his services.  I’m sad.  Another person gone who was a part of my history.  I know that death is part of life, and I know that I wasn’t close to the man.  But still.  I knew him then, he influenced my life then, and that makes him a human being that had an effect on someone during the course of their life.  It’s okay to be sad he’s gone.

Pardon the slight radio silence…  Had a technical glitch which has been fixed.

In keeping with the questions asked (which you totally can still do…  Ask away) I have the questions asked by Mickey.

What helped you battle your drug addiction? What keeps you up?

What helped me battle…  It is a hard question.  I never actually participated in a rehab program of any sort.  What happened, is in the span of 3 days:

• I found out that a drug dealer was after me for the bad debt of my ex-boyfriend (mistakenly believing the ex would care.)
• Left my apartment because those I lived with left, and I couldn’t stand those who moved in.
• Started for Northern California with my brother, and a hundred bucks in my pocket and all my worldly possessions.

I didn’t actually MEAN to get clean.  But leaving L.A. meant the dealer after me would forget about me.  And moving 350 miles away meant that I didn’t know a soul – including those that could give me drugs.

I lived in a church dormitory.  A friend was living there, and they decided to give me a break.  Possibly the best thing that ever happened to me.  There was no privacy.  We literally had cubicles (like in an office), and shared a bathroom and showers (although we had individual curtains.  Boys separate from girls.  And that’s where I went through withdrawals.  I’m not sure I even knew what they were at the time.  I just remember that one girl asked me to go to church with her every couple of days – other than that they left me alone.  I suspect they were keeping an eye on me, but didn’t want to intervene unless needed.

After that – it was fairly easy.  I still thought about speed pretty much all the time, but didn’t know how to get it.  I was in a strange city, with no car, and no clue the place to go.  So I used the opportunity.

There was one after effect that I had a hard time with, which was insomnia.  My longest go on speed was no sleep or food for 12 days.  I drank water, but I didn’t want food – it grossed me out when I was high on meth.  But my usual was about 48 hours up, sleep, 48 hours up, sleep.  Well, my nocturnal clock was all messed up, so even though I wasn’t chemically stimulated I still couldn’t sleep!  I had finally found a job at a drug store (ha! – I’m so not kidding!) and they had these cd’s on sale…  Sort of like musak, but really good.  Instrumentals.  Anyway I would listen to that cd at bedtime, and ONLY at bedtime…  Eventually I was able to “cue” myself to going to sleep.  To this day, I still have the CD (over a decade later) and it is still relaxing to me.  It was another 3 and a half years up north, and then we moved back here.  By then, I’d met and married my husband, and had my first child.  I have no interest in screwing up my life.  I know no one who could get it for me.  I’ve been clean since October of 1997.

And she had another question – unrelated I think:

To quote Father Arrupe, have you ever fallen in love, a love that makes you wake up in the morning excited for the day?

Yes.  I have.  I’m still in love with my husband.  Although, I think it’s grown to a more mature, and all encompassing love than that first swooning infatuation.  He was not my first love, however (he knows this.)  I was in love twice before.  Both, however, I believe I lost me in it.  But most definitely it was love.  But Oh my Gosh was it destructive.  With Poe, however, it’s a strong, committed, respectful, honest, two way, fun, breathtaking kind of love.  It was fast.  But we just plain knew.  And now we’re over the decade hump – and yes I would marry him again.

Stacey, per your request, this is a warning that you don’t want to read on.

The rest of the entry is below the fold.

(more…)

My very first crush doesn’t really count. We were five and in kindergarten… Chad. Huge crush… but I hadn’t yet lost my confidence as I did later, so I solved that little problem. I could run faster – therefore, I ran tackled him, straddled him, and kissed him on the cheek… You’d think it was acid since, you know, “Eeeeewwwwwwwww Cooooooooties!” The irony is, he later became my first “real” boyfriend in 10th grade.

But my first crush in which I agonized was also in Kindergarten. Timothy. This was after I lost my confidence. Yes, in kindergarten – horrible embarrassing incident and the topic of a different post. Anyway, timothy had beautiful brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. He was also Yoda. As in Star Wars. We played at recess. A girl named Kristin (the hussy) and I took turns in being Princess Leia, Timothy was Yoda, and Brent and Chad took turns being Luke. Lots of “You’re my hero” and lines from the movie (which I hadn’t seen, by the way). He never knew I existed. I eventually went to high school with him, but I don’t think he even knew that we were in elementary school together. He eventually became a wrestler and football player. I always had that little place in my heart for him.