Delusional

I have a cousin who is an avowed atheist.  She swears that she's a good person without needing external rules and guidelines imposed by an "imaginary friend/sky daddy." 

Given the things I've seen her post to FB, I would...not agree with her.  At all.  

I mean...

Yeah, let's look at this.  

I didn't particularly want to teach the kids that Santa brings gifts for kids on Christmas.  It's dumb.  And I'm really kind of sick and tired of the ruse--this is going to be the last year, since I have teenagers.  But it was useful while they were smaller to use the ruse to get them once-a-year expensive toys, and not have them begging us to get them expensive shit year-round.  

That said...there's no fucking way I think this  picture is remotely funny.  What the actual fuck.  

This isn't schadenfreude.  This is deliberately causing pain to a child. Hurting a child for the fun of it.  

I know she'd probably protest that it's "art," and "it's a joke," and "it's AI generated."  

Thing is...I've messed with AI art.  Bing Image Creator is actually a lot of fun to play with, and you can make some really gorgeous pieces with it.  

AI art is made by inputting descriptions.  This art was designed by someone who thought it was funny--was fun--to make a little kid cry on Christmas morning.  

This is the least of what I've seen her post.  

She mocks Christians by cherry-picking things from the Bible--that slavery's okay,* and polygamy,** and that horrific punishments, like "an eye for an eye" were allowed and encouraged.***  

And yet...

...and yet.  

Christians are not the ones posting things that show joy in deliberately causing pain, much less deliberately causing pain to the innocent among us.  Christians are not the ones suggesting that dissenters should be raped and tortured to death (yes, I've seen her post things like that).  

Full disclosure: yes, I laugh my ass off at people hurting themselves.  I think the shocked dismay that people who are suddenly thwapped with the consequences of their own freely-chosen actions and decisions is hilarious.  

I do not think causing pain to children is funny.  Nor do I think it's funny when a child  actively hurts him or herself because the adult in charge of their well-being either dropped the ball, or set them up.  

Nor do I think it's funny for adults to get hurt because someone lied to them, or set them up for the sake of a video prank.****

Love thy neighbor as thyself.  Love your neighbor as you would yourself.  TREAT PEOPLE LIKE YOU WOULD TREAT YOURSELF.  

It's not a difficult concept.  It's the base command in Christianity.  Love God, and love your neighbor. 

That is what makes a good person.  And atheists are far too prone to allowing the monkey-side--the fallen side--full control over their actions toward their fellow human beings.  Atheists are far too prone to dehumanizing those that don't march in philosophical lock-step with them.  

Atheists don't just go tribal--they go full monkey-band primal. Because they lack the guidance--the reason--to be better than their own worst impulses.  To do better than their own worst impulses.  

You know, my cousin swears she loves children.  That she'd never hurt them.  

Yeah.  I don't believe her.  And I won't let her be anywhere around my kids unsupervised.  

*Slavery isn't okay.  And the rules around slavery in the OT? Those put limits on how people were allowed to treat their slaves, and turned slavery into indenture.  The Israelites were required by God to offer freedom and adoption to their slaves every few years.  This, in contrast, to how horrific slavery was literally everywhere else, was a MASSIVE social change for the better.  

**Polygamy was everywhere.  Men died early and suddenly, and a woman alone was at enormous risk of victimization and violent death...or death of exposure and starvation.  

***An eye for an eye was a hard, upper limit, not a "this is the least of what you can expect." If someone puts out your eye, you're not allowed to do more and worse to him, much less his entire family, blood-line, city, and/or tribe.  Remember Jacob's sons, and what they did when their sister was taken in marriage without family permission (aka, "raped" which had different legal definitions in OT times). 

****It's not funny when teens self-harm because of the trans trend.  It's not funny when teens hurt their futures because they're told they must go to college, whatever the cost and however much debt they have to take on to get there.  It's not funny when people choose one focus over another because their advisors lied to them about income potential ("you'll keep a higher percentage!" but not "you can't charge as much, so your actual net will be far lower.").  It's not funny to sneak up on people and sucker punch them on video (although it's funny as hell when the jump-scare pranksters get shot).

Miracles

I’ve read through a lot.  I’m 43 years old, and I read all the time.  If there are words, they will be read. 

One of the trends I’ve noticed…is that miracles are often not recognized until long after the fact.  Or are so huge they can’t be overlooked. 

And, since we have been able to mostly figure a lot of things out, much rarer than they used to be.  And are often on the lines of Divine Inspiration being heard and noticed, either in research (medical, scientific, or otherwise), or in our personal lives. 

It was a miracle in ’80 for Regan to take the White House.  Less of one in ’84, considering how well he did in his first run through at jacking back the illusions the political classes were pushing, and showing the normal people who live in reality that yes, there was a man behind the curtain pretending to be the Great and Powerful Oz…and that he was kinda disappointing, actually. 

Too bad his VP (elected in ’88) yoinked that curtain back shut because he was part of that particular class…which set the circumstances for the resurgence of Marxism…socialism…whatever you want to call the anti-individualist, collectivist philosophy that drives the political aristocratic classes. 

The problem they had is that they couldn’t force the curtains all the way back shut.  There were gaps.  And reality kept showing through those gaps. 

And the realists got pissed off at the fools whose damaged fingers kept reaching for the fire, and elected Trump (another miracle, honestly), which has set us up for a massive miracle, of the majority realizing what I learned as a child: the government does not care about the individual, and will not protect them.  This realization could, with His Providence, bring back sanity in the way things are done in politics.    

Note, I am saying that this has been a miracle, and that the miraculous will have to continue to happen, or things will…slump back into the swamp.  Or worse. 

Those miracles were on a national stage. 

Other miracles, miracles of research…I know, first hand, people who should have been dead years ago.  The only reason they’re not is because of pharmaceutical giants still searching for more treatments for things that are still a death sentence.  One of my closest friends developed inflammatory breast cancer while she was breastfeeding her year-old son.  It went to stage IV before it was identified, because it’s so sneaky of a disease. 

She should have been dead five years ago, but she isn’t.  Yes, she’s still got active cancer, and is fighting a rear-guard action to prolong her time—her son’s ten.  She’s fighting for long enough to raise him.  Because his father’s…not the advocate for him that he should be. 

Her continued (and continuing) survival is a miracle.  Yes, she’s in constant pain.  No, she hasn’t been outright healed.  Yes, she’s been praying (as have I, and everyone around her). 

But that’s not how it works. 

Thing is, every time one treatment starts failing to work, there’s another one that does work.  That’s a fucking miracle, right there. 

I’ve heard the whole argument: “That’s not a miracle, that’s science.  A miracle would be having her healed.”  Remember what I said about Divine Inspiration?  How else do you describe the massive leaps forward in the medical research profession realizing that every type of cancer is different, and requires different treatments?  How else do you describe the medical research profession finding new and different ways to approach something that defies anything other than the broadest of categorization? 

Diabetes used to kill people.  Routinely.  Still can, if the individual with diabetes doesn’t understand what’s going on, and how to manage it.  Or if they decide to just…stop treatment.  HIV/AIDS used to absolutely kill people.  It still can and does, if the person who has it doesn’t pay attention, and/or stops treatment.

The advances that turned those certain death sentences into manageable, if serious, health conditions?  Miracles.  Driven entirely by Divine Inspiration, and the gift of understanding and intuition. 

I’ve heard other arguments: “If they had the faith, they’d be healed.”  Or, “If they just prayed harder/was a better person…”  

That isn’t the way God works. 

He does things in a much smaller, quieter way than He used to.  Partially because those gifts He set us up with?  The ability to learn, to reason, to understand, to intuit and generalize?  Those require less flashy intervention on His part.  Which means He is actually requiring greater faith to actually keep going when something hurts, and the doctors are having a hard time figuring it out.  Or when your treatment for a disease that will kill you makes you feel awful for a while (like an antibiotic does for the first week of a two week course for a nasty infection). 

Or when the people in charge of the nation are cheerfully trying to play with matches in a grain silo. 

He has made the way straight before us.  It’s not easy, and it’s not level.  But it’ll get us through to safety, if we stay on it.

And humanity in general, like sheep, have this nasty tendency to get distracted off the safe but hard path He has laid out for us, and bound off on the easy path (that leads straight to a sudden drop we can’t see, but that He can). 

He laid the path out for us.  He’s set our feet on it, and pointed us in the right direction (and He will keep doing that when we stray…if we ask for guidance).  He’ll bap us back into line (assuming we’re paying attention).  But it’s still up to us to walk the path.  It’s up to us to grit our teeth and do the hard stuff to get to safety. 

(I’m praying that the nation discovers the gumption and wisdom to stay the right course.)

Visionary.

Throughout history, poverty is the normal condition of man. Advances which permit this norm to be exceeded--here and there, now and then--are the work of an extremely small minority, frequently despised, often condemned, and almost always opposed by all right-thinking people. Whenever this tiny minority is kept from creating, or (as sometimes happens) is driven out of a society, the people then slip back into abject poverty. This is known as “bad luck."
--Robert Heinlein, The Notebooks of Lazarus Long

The floor is open for discussion.  

Handicapped. Not disabled.

I am exhausted, this evening.  I busted ass all day, cleaning my living room (which hadn't had a real good cleaning since December).  I probably didn't get as much done as most would, and it took three times the amount of time to do.  Because really?  I didn't have the energy, but it had to be done. 

No, it's not done yet.  Remember, I'm working with no energy or stamina.  That means everything that gets done gets done slowly.  Steadily.  With frequent breaks to rest. 

I can still do it, though.  It just takes a while. 

That makes it a handicap.  I can do things, it's just not as easy or as fast as it is for others. 

The difference between a handicap and a disability is that a handicap doesn't remove ability, just makes things harder.  A disability means that I can't do something. 

Yes, there are things I'm not able to do.  However, in most cases, my thyroid has nothing to do with that.  I can't run a marathon--or even to the end of my driveway--but that has less to do with energy and stamina, and more to do with bad ankles, knees, and boobs that would knock my ass out if I tried.  I can't reach the back of the middle shelves in my kitchen standing on the floor, but that's because I'm four feet eleven inches tall in my socks, and barely five foot even in most of my shoes.  (Five foot one, in one or two pair). 

So there are disabilities, and there are handicaps, but calling everything a disability (like with the whole ADA crap) smacks of excusing laziness.

I am handicapped.  Not disabled. 

Stupid.

Ran across something on the book of face, last week.  I saved it, and have been ruminating on it for a while.  It's this:

My older sister posted it.  And, like I said, it got me thinking.

I have never eaten (drank) ice soup.  Nor have I subsisted on Ramen because that was all I could afford.

I don't understand why this meme resonates to that point.  The only thing it takes to avoid ice soup and starvation is a little bit of planning, and an ability to use a microwave. 

When I was student help (in college, in '01), I got paid two hundred dollars every two weeks.  I planned, budgeted, and grocery shopped.  Yes, my kitchen consisted of a cube fridge, a crock pot, and a microwave; yes, my pantry consisted of one of the two nightstands that came in the dorm room (two drawers and a cubby--held potatoes, bread, tortillas, and canned soup).  I ate very well on that, while helping my mom pay for the stupidity she chose to buy.* 

And then, I graduated, got into grad school, and my paychecks started coming once a month.  It wasn't any harder budgeting for that, even when Odysseus was between jobs.  After rent and utilities were paid, and a bit put back for car insurance, we still had something around two hundred for groceries.  Between the savings card for Kroger/Dillon's, and a once-a-month hour long drive to the nearest Sam's Club, we didn't suffer. 

The whole point, here, is that if you're not being paid a whole lot, and aren't getting paid often, if you learn to budget, buy groceries wisely, and learn how to cook, you're not stuck with ice soup.  Or even Ramen.

And this?  This is even cheaper if you don't have the same food intolerance (allergy to wheat) I do.  A dozen eggs will run you about $1.65 or so, around here; a pack of processed cheese slices, around $3; bacon is the most expensive at around $5/lb for the decent stuff; English muffins around $3/dozen; and butter's about $2/lb.  That total would be around $17, after sales tax.  For enough for a dozen egg sandwiches. 

A 1lb bag of lentils is around $1.50 or so, now, and will make around three pots of lentil soup, which is high in protein, a lot of trace minerals, and fiber. 

A 2 lb bag of black beans costs around $4, and will make a LOT of meals. 

Ham bits or bacon ends costs around $5 for a 3lb package, and goes well in either lentils or beans, for extra flavor, a little fat, and a little more protein.

Plan.  Shop accordingly.  Cook your own food.  If you're too tired to cook on days you work, cook a lot on your days off, and freeze your own convenience food. 

Doing otherwise is irresponsible, and sheer stupidity.

*Mom's stupidity was a Ford F-150 with the 4wd, upgraded towing tranny, bigger engine, and 180,000 miles on it.  That she bought for ten grand on a nine grand per year fixed income. 

I can't say I'm surprised.

Reports I've heard out of France put the toll at between 120-160 dead; some reports say the perps are also dead, others aren't sure.

I am...unsurprised, to say the least.  I am also, to some extent, unsympathetic.

The people of France, like us, choose their "rulers" in elections.  Their "ruling class" chose to permit the waves of invaders inside their borders, apparently without even bothering to check baggage.  That, in turn, both permitted and damn near encouraged the recent events.

I cannot feel sorry for people who invited in and welcomed those who seek wage war, with or without a nation* backing them up.

Does that mean that I'm going to be unsympathetic to our own people if it happens here?

In a word?  Yes.

To an extent.  However, I don't think they'll find Americans as easy of targets, unless they deliberately hit gun-free zones (which they likely would).  However, after what's happened in Paris, I strongly doubt otherwise law-abiding carriers will leave their means of self-defense behind.

Other than that...again, the American people have permitted gleefully placed in charge those who would welcome in our enemies with open arms (and perhaps the hope that those enemies will take out a few of those who vote against the socialist/fascist/progressive agenda, and remove enough "no" votes to change the political landscape).

So, yeah.  I'm not feeling a whole lot of sympathy.

I am not Charlie Hedbo.  I am not a Parisian.  I am not a victim.

And I don't feel too sorry for those who choose to be a victim in some weird version of Sister Bertha virtue signalling.  

*If world governments bothered asking the radicals, they'd find that the radicals see "islam" as their nation, rather than any particular acknowledged nation state.

Exhaustion.

I has it.

No, not from juggling schedules, nor from trying to keep up with grading (though that's there), nor yet from health issues (migraine, anyone?  I'll share). 

I am exhausted by humanity.  Lately, I've seen so many examples of self-absorption that I've begun to assume the worst of people, moreso than I usually do.  I am so very much looking forward to my Christmas Break, this year...

Last week, I went from my classroom to the ladies' room across the library from my classroom.  I noted a young woman of a specific type pull out what looked like a brand new iPhone, and make a call.  As I was coming back, she was still there, leaning against the outer wall of the glassed-in quiet room, complaining about her commodities basket: whoever had compiled it hadn't given her any mac 'n' cheese, no name brand anything, and had had the sheer, unmitigated gall to include a bag of flour and a bag of sugar.

How dare they.  No name brands, and expecting her to cook.

Now, contrast this with another young person of the same specific demographic.  One of my students, in fact--they asked for an extension on paper 5 (which I'm happy to grant) because they were breaking under the pressure of being a full time college student and working two jobs.  Two, not one.  This student uses an older Android phone, and a two year old Acer laptop, much like the one my husband has.  Student is working two jobs because their family has had to cut funding because of a pregnant sibling.  Student hasn't asked for help, hasn't applied for food stamps, just quietly went and got another job.

And when that student broke down in tears this morning, I could not help contrasting them with Ms. NameBrandsOnlyPlease. 

Especially since my student broke down in that study room, and nobody else paid a bit of attention. 

The two other students (not mine, thankfully) were too busy discussing one of the Kardashians.*

*I will admit that I have no idea which one or why--I tuned out as soon as I heard the name.

Free is worth what you pay for it.

I think I've figured something important out. 

A few years ago, before I had the kids, I worked with the football team.  I tutored, and helped them correct, their writing about five hours a week.  Was paid about $10/hour for it.  I'd've been happy to do it for free, but for something a colleague (the one who set the whole thing up) said: "You have to set a price.  If you don't, they won't value what you're offering."

Most of my students don't pay for their own college tuition and/or fees.  They get grants, scholarships, and loans for that.  They don't have to bust their asses at work, trying to earn the money to pay $300+ per class, plus the approximately $700 for all the other assorted fees and textbooks.

From what I've seen, few of the traditional students--those who take out the most in loans and grants--don't value their classes.  They love classes like the "university experience" class (what used to be Freshman Orientation, and was a 1 cr hr 6 week course, but is now a 3 cr hr 16 week course), because they're "easy A" classes, or classes that it's "okay to skip because the professor doesn't care." 

And Bernie Sanders wants to make all undergraduate work "free." 

The thing is, most people see the grants and loans as "free" money.  They don't think about how much it's going to take to pay off the loans.  They don't think about the future.  And they damn sure don't think about what others have to do to earn the money for the federal grants.  It's "free."  Not worth anything.

I think I'm beginning to understand why so few value their voting rights.  Free is worth what you, yourself, pay for it. 

Because, with most of these kids, if they're not the ones earning it, then it's worth nothing.  They don't see others' sacrifice, and absolutely don't look toward the future. 

If not now, then when?

As a parent, I have a policy.  My policy is that I am not raising children, I'm raising adults.  I expect a lot out of my kids, and most of the time, they rise to the levels of my expectations. 

Examples? 

They clean their own rooms every night. 

The imp makes his own breakfast, packs his lunchbox after I've made his sandwich, makes sure he has everything he needs in his backpack, and does for himself as soon as I get him to his classroom door. 

The pixie, when we get to her classroom, hangs up her backpack and pulls her folder out.  She keeps track of her own folder and hands it to her teacher as she goes into the classroom to find her seat, then starts on her seat-work. 

Each of my children is responsible for their own choices and actions, and is responsible for the rewards and/or consequences they earn.  And they know it. 

Last Friday, the pixie forgot her folder on the bench where we wait for her classroom to open up.  We got all the way to her classroom door before I noticed it, but when I did, I stopped her, reminded her that she'd forgotten her folder, and that she was the one responsible for it, not me.  She chirped "Oh!  Let me go get that!" and trotted off to go grab it. 

I got a lot of weird looks from the parents dropping their kids off.  One of them muttered, "She's only four!" 

What I have seen with regards to how the other parents handle their four year old children rather...upsets and disgusts me. 

I have not seen one single, other person that doesn't either carry their child's backpack for them, or strip the backpack off the kids' backs to hang it up, pull the folder, and hand the folder directly to the teacher. 

What I want to know is this: do they expect their child to grow up to be a well-adjusted, responsible, functional member of society?  And if so, how can they possibly expect that when they're teaching their kids that mom/dad/grandma/grandpa will do absolutely everything for them, leaving them with nothing that they, themselves, need to keep track of?

I refuse to do anything for my kids that they can do for themselves.  And by doing that, I'm teaching them that they are responsible for themselves.  By doing that, I'm teaching them that nobody owes them anything.

By doing that, I'm working to ensure that they grow up into independent, responsible, hardworking, functional adults.   

International law

"International law is that thing which the evil ignore and the righteous refuse to enforce." Barack Ben Canan, Exodus

When I was in eighth grade, my school had us spending one semester in shop and the other in home ec Consumer Sciences.  The latter was up in the high school, so glory of glories, I actually had access to books on my reading level for one semester of middle school, outside of the county library.  And the librarian (who'd been sneaking me a book from the high school, every now and then, when the idiot in my class reading Seuss books at fifth, sixth, and seventh grade wasn't there to be offended by someone who could read) didn't see a reason to ban me from checking out a new book every day.  I read, that year, The Thorn Birds, Dune, Wuthering Heights, and Exodus, among others. 

Leon Uris's Exodus has been one of my favorite books since then.  I re-read it often enough that my paperback started shedding pages like my cats do cat hair. 

I recently found a replacement at a used book store (in hardback!), and have been pecking at it again.  Exodus tells the story of the rebirth of Israel--and of the way the world treats the nation of Israel as the redheaded stepchild scapegoat that nobody likes. 

And shows how the application of international law is uneven, and always has been.

The uneven application of law is no law at all.  It is no more than just another stick with which those in power use to oppress those who aren't. 

Somehow, the Islamic nations are never slapped down for their blatant flouting of international law; somehow, Israel is constantly slapped down with it even when they don't break it.  Somehow, nations who never signed to nor abide by the Geneva conventions are given a pass, while civilized nations are crucified for harsh interrogation techniques that abide by the conventions.  

International law is bullshit.  The UN is not bullshit, but a clubhouse full of petty tyrants. 

I'm beginning to think, depending on the nation, the rule of law is bullshit, too, and that most nations are ruled by the same petty tyrants that infest the UN.

Dogs

I have a friend who used to have a Pitt Bull/Boxer mix.  She was the least aggressive and sweetest dog I have ever met...so long as you weren't trying to get onto her property while her people weren't there, and even then, if she could restrain you without hurting you, she would.  Absolutely lovely dog. 

My aunts have a little dog, a Pomeranian mix.  That dog is the most hateful, spoiled rotten piece of shit I have ever met.  He's very pretty, and they say he's sweet most of the time, but I haven't seen it.  He goes out of his way to attempt to attack my kids.  Because, they say, he'd been abused by kids before they got him. 

I hate that little dog, and my hand is never far from my gun around him when we're outside, and if he's outside when we get there, I carry my kids into my mother's house, one at a time. 

People are fucking retarded when it comes to Pitt Bulls.  Most cannot distinguish large dog breeds, and anything they're scared of is a "pit bull"--whether it is, or whether it's a Lab or Retriever that's upset with them. 

The problem isn't with the breed.  The problem is with people: either the fuckwits who don't understand what dogs are saying with their body language, or with the fuckwits who take a lovely dog and turn it into a monster, either for illegal dog fighting or because they're felons and not allowed to own a gun, but want something big and threatening to try to hurt people or keep cops away from their home. 

Personally, I love the bigger dogs.  They usually naturally have a sweet temperament.  It's the little yappy ankle biters that are the nasty ones. 

That's why I love seeing stories like this one.  And there was a bit in it that I think should apply to all dogs living in town, not just a specific breed that has been wrongly demonized: "they have to go through behavioral assessment to determine whether or not they’re dangerous, they have to have insurance, and owners have to have a fence."  I would add that, should the dogs escape the fence, the owners get fined for each instance, with fines increasing with each time the dog gets out and becomes a nuisance. 

I like big dogs.  Or dogs that think like big dogs (like my Scotty dog).  I detest the nervous little rat dogs that bite with little to no provocation.  If any dog should be banned, it's dogs like that.

That's the way to do it.

If the police want to regain their old reputation of being public servants, and keep the populace cooperative instead of having everyone, rather than just thugs, refuse to be friendly and courteous much less cooperate, they need to follow this guy's example:

One of the first things Magnus did when he took over was to disband the department's "street teams," units of heavily armed officers deployed in high-crime areas.

The teams stopped "everything that moved," Richmond Police Capt. Mark Gagan said, in hopes of finding suspects with warrants or carrying small amounts of illegal drugs. ...many in the community perceived the aggressive street teams as an occupying army.*

Magnus also eliminated the seniority system that allowed officers to choose the areas they would patrol. He required officers to take on more responsibilities on their beats beyond responding to calls. Beat officers are required to attend neighborhood meetings and to maintain a high profile at churches, schools and businesses. They're encouraged to hand out their mobile phone numbers and email addresses to residents.

What he's doing is working.  Crime of all types has plummeted, and citizen cooperation--in a city that's 1/3 black, 1/3 hispanic, and 1/3 white--is skyrocketing.

I am not surprised it's working.  I live in a small town in the Midwest, and I've seen anti-cop sentiment skyrocketing as the cops get more belligerent, confrontational, and self-isolating.  They're not acting like soldiers--not ours, at least, since ours are trying to win the hearts and minds of the nations they're occupying in the attempt to aid.  No, the police around here are acting like the Nazi occupation did, in areas they suspected people of aiding the Jews.

In the town where I grew up, on the other hand, we had two cops.  They tended to get bored and lonely while they were patrolling, and go to wherever people were gathered, and just hang out.  Everyone knew them, everyone liked them, and everyone...cooperated.  Even the local pot grower/dealer (and yes, they did know he did that...and didn't care because...) tended to let them know who was making meth, and where.  Everyone trusted them to do the right thing, and not to go shooting people's pets...or the people who they were supposed to be protecting.

People cooperate with their neighbors.  No one with any amount of self-respect is going to cooperate with an occupying enemy army that acts like jackbooted thugs.  And Chief Magnus gets that.

Unfortunately, very few other departments or chiefs do. 

*emphasis mine

Excuses

I am beginning to be of the opinion that people use psychological and/or medical diagnoses to excuse their own behavior, rather than choosing to work to better themselves. 

My mother is an example of this.  Yes, she has fibro.  Yes, she has something that mimics COPD.  Yes, she's clinically depressed, and Medicaid won't pay for treatment.  But y'know, she does do that which truly matters to her: despite the fibro, she keeps her house neat (for the most part) and keeps the kitchen clean.  Yes, she's got some help paid for by Medicaid, but she does everything but the vacuuming and the dusting herself (the things that bother her breathing).  Because she cares about a clean house.

What she isn't doing is looking for a better home, one that would get my sister out of the attic where she breathes in mouse leavings mixed with fiberglass, which triggered some nasty asthma. 

What she isn't doing is moving away from a place where she's convinced that my male genetic donor spread rumors (true) and ruined her reputation (false--she did that herself, by acting ashamed).

She blames her depression for that.  She also blames needing to stay to help her younger sisters, and that she can't afford better (which is bullshit--she makes more than I do). 

My father was another example.  He survived an abusive childhood...to perpetuate the abuse upon his own children.  He chose his actions, despite knowing that what he was doing was wrong.  I know he knew it was wrong, because he worked so hard to be perceived as a saint by everyone not living in his house.  He chose to be an utter bastard. 

I was diagnosed in high school as a borderline sociopath.  I made the choice to be better, partially because I knew I was broken and didn't want to be, partially because I knew it was in my own best interest not to act on my natural inclinations. 

I have been diagnosed with low thyroid, which limits what I can get done because I just...run out of energy.  I still do the critical tasks, like making sure the kitchen is clean, my kids are clean and fed, and the kids' laundry is clean.  I prioritize things by their importance: my kids are important, a clean kitchen is important; a clean living room, or hall, or master bedroom is far lower on the list of priorities.  I do not use the thyroid as an excuse.  I work around it, and I am planning on discussing raising my dosage with my doctor at my annual appointment in July.  And, for the moment, I'm taking an herbal-based thyroid supplement that works in short bursts to make sure I have the energy to get the important stuff done.   I am trying to solve the problem, not use it as an excuse to be lazy.

I chose to work to be better than what I am.  Just as my mom chooses not to let her constant pain and exhaustion limit her taking care of her house, but chooses to let her depression limit where and how she lives. 

Those who choose to take a diagnosis and use it as an excuse...yeah, I'm beginning to have less and less sympathy for them. 

Sticking to my knitting.

I'm more than a bit upset about the recent spate of revenge killing of police officers.  On the one hand, I can see where it's coming from: various incidents with SWAT and with overreactions to honest-to-God peaceful, law-abiding people questioning why they were being detained/questioned/thrown face first on the ground, and/or family pets shot out of hand.  Only problem is that it's not the cops that have sown the wind who are reaping the whirlwind.  It's the poor schlubs that are in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

And leftist mouth-breathing leavings from a diseased whore's dripping twat bloviating about how the police were wrong (*ahem* de Blasio, Sharpton, Jackson, et. al. ad nauseum) have done nothing but destabilize an already explosive situation.

I cannot do anything to affect any of it.  Not one damn thing.

Especially as these poor schlubs have been fed the lie that I am a dangerous individual because I believe in the rule of law set down by the United States Constitution, rather than the rule of whim of the ruling classes that we aren't supposed to have, but do anyway.  They'd rather cozy up to and carry the scorpion across the river.  Because there's no way the leftists would stab them in the back, right?

As I said: there's nothing I can do.  Not personally, and not with my small readership.  All I can do is keep a weather eye on things and hope the storm bypasses my life, and doesn't endanger my family. 

Personal responsibility III: taking care of yourself

There are several levels to this: everything from eating right to exercising to exercising basic hygiene to going to doctors' appointments, and the like.

That's not what I'm talking about. 

What I'm talking about is making sure an individual can take care of themselves.  Odysseus covered some of it in his financial advice columns, but I want to expand on it a bit. 

First off, and this is the most basic part, the individual must make sure they have a job.  It would be better should that not be a minimum wage, part time, dead-end job (though there are actually fewer of those than most believe, given how hard Casey's tried to get Odysseus trained on everything, and to promote him), but any port in a storm.  A job equals income.  And even a part-time job that pays minimum wage is liveable, if you're careful.  And it grants the time to go seek out a different job that offers more hours and/or pays better.  Or, failing that, a second job.

Second, start a savings account.  A few dollars a week until a grand is saved up is enough to start.  That prevents an emergency brake repair from wiping out everything someone tries to do to better their lot. 

Third, should that aforementioned job happen to be a part time, minimum wage job, the next step is that the individual in question should stop indulging.  No more eating out--not even from the McDonald's dollar menu--no more coffees that they don't make themselves, no more money spent on frivolities.  Why?  Because the average American is an idiot, and carries a metric fuckton of debt, between what they took out for college, what they owe on their car, and what they owe on their credit card(s) and/or payday loans. 

And, once the individual stops indulging in whatever little habit tends to suck the money out of their bank accounts, they can start paying down those debts.*

Getting rid of those debts makes everything else easier.

Fourth, pay cash or do without.  On everything, basic medical care included, because a yearly doctor's visit isn't too expensive, if it's budgeted and saved for.  And no, having someone else pay for medical insurance isn't a basic, human right.   Neither is steak, or junk food, or cell phones of any type.  Or internet.  Or cable.

Fifth, a solid pantry, holding a few weeks' worth of food (enough to get through a short-term emergency or unemployment) should be assembled.  I recommend a membership at a warehouse store--it makes acquiring things in bulk a lot simpler...and a lot cheaper.  I think we save somewhere around a thousand dollars a year on the groceries we get at Sam's Club.  When the kids were in diapers, it was more than that. 

I think the biggest thing, the thing that makes the most difference in being self-sufficient is the capability to plan ahead and to defer gratification.  And both are involved in each step of taking care of yourself.

*I recommend Dave Ramsey's plan for that.  And no, I'm not being paid to say that.  I was incredibly disappointed when our local talk radio replaced him with Sean Hannity, who annoys the piss out of me.

...and on into my least favorite time of year...

I really hate Christmas.  Not the event behind the holiday, but the holiday itself.  It quit being fun sometime around the point I hit high school--seems to be too much work for little to no fun.  If I could, I'd skip the whole shebang. 

I hate decorating.  It's a mess, and it disrupts the kids' routines, which causes really terrible behavior.  It's pretty for maybe the first day or so, and then it just gets...tired. 

I hate spending time with my family.  I think if you combine two of my aunts' IQ with that of the only uncle left, you might reach room temperature.  And they're closed-minded, to boot: I've been told that I'm wrong because I work outside the home, and that I'm going to hell because I'm not a member of their splinter of a splinter of a splinter of a legitimate denomination of Christianity, and because the kids were baptized as babies. 

I hate the timing.  It's a stressful enough time of the year with the end of semester around two weeks before hand. 

I hate spending money on gifts for people I hold in highest contempt.  I don't like spending money on gifts, period, but having to spend money on people I despise tends to spoil what enjoyment I have in giving the kids things that I know they'll love. 

I hate the music.  It started at the beginning of November, in some stores.  It'll be everywhere, now that Thanksgiving is over.  I have one CD I really like: one of the Christmas albums put out by Frank Sinatra, long, long ago, and the music itself is ruining my enjoyment of the man's voice.  I think the worst part is all of the stupid, secular music.  Maybe I just need to find my Handel's Messiah CD...

I hate all the trappings of the holiday. 

The trappings detract from the reality behind the mess: that the holiday is supposed to remind us of Who was born, supposedly at this time, if you listen to the Church, and ignore the Biblical evidence to the contrary. 

Advent has become more special to me as a meditative period since I had the kids.  Even though both children were born early, I can identify with Mary during her last month of pregnancy: the anticipation; the anxiety, both about birth and about taking care of something so very small and helpless; the weariness that accompanies the last part of pregnancy...and for Mary, knowing that her Child is just that much more special than most.  My children are very dear to me, and I worry and fret over them.  I can only imagine how much magnified that must have been for Mary. 

The holiday isn't the food.  It isn't spending time with family.  It isn't the gifts.  It isn't the music. 

All of that takes peoples' attention off of what it is: the great gift of God's own Son sent to us.

And on this first Sunday of Advent, I find myself despising the holiday that we have even more than usual, and find my thoughts drifting toward Mary, and wondering just how much I had in common with her in my thoughts and feelings during the last months of my pregnancies...and feeling sorrow for how her story ended up, and how much grief the end of her Son brought her.

Choices and consequences

Last week, one of my students who came from my Comp I class (which was about a year and a half ago) came to class twenty minutes late.  Since I like the kid, I didn't do more than tease the hell out of him.  I like most of my students, so that's my likely response to any of them that hadn't cleared it with me beforehand.

Most of the time, consequences aren't so benign. 

I see a lot of poor choices on the college campus--everything from blowing off classes in favor of partying, to blowing off paying bills in favor of spending money on what they want.  From sleeping with everything that moves and wondering why they can't find a relationship, to badly socially awkward guys wondering why everyone thinks they're creepers. 

Choices carry consequences.  Always. 

Records of repeated poor choices result in a lifetime of grinding poverty and debt.  Always. 

My family is an incredibly good example of this: my mother and sister, in particular, consistently make poor choices that leave them unable to tread water, at times. 

When I was in college as an undergrad student, my mom decided she needed to replace her '86 Cougar (she did).  Instead of looking for a good car in her price range, she overspent by double her budget on a Ford F-150.  A 4x4 with a beefed-up (but not cared for) transmission for towing, and two giant gas tanks.  The trouble started almost immediately: the truck was eight years old when she got it, and had been a farm truck--one that was used hard.  The steering started having trouble.  The transmission started having trouble.  The electrical system started having trouble.  The truck has cost her more than she could afford to pay for twelve years because all she looked at were the monthly payments. 

And all of this financial trouble has kept my sister living with a woman who constantly keeps the abuse we lived through, and our abuser, in the front of my sister's mind.  I didn't start to heal from everything until I got the hell away.

That's only one issue.

My sister has been looking to move into low income housing, where utilities and cable are actually part of the rent--$400/month.  That would leave her $200/month for food and dry goods, but she swears that she wouldn't be able to make it on that. 

Um...yeah.  The only reason that that wouldn't be enough is that she doesn't shop wisely.  I've seen my mother and sister's grocery budget.  They buy name brand everything--it has to be top quality, or it simply isn't good enough.  Never mind that there is little to no difference in quality.  They spend twice the amount to feed two people that I spend to feed two adults and two children. 

So, my sister chooses to stay in a very bad environment because she's convinced that it will take more than her check to survive.

Poor choice, harsh consequence. 

My father-in-law is an example of precisely the opposite: when his first child came along, he looked at his income and spending habits.  He realized that he could either buy cigarettes or diapers, and he quit smoking. 

The people I've overheard on campus complaining about not being able to afford more than ramen as they light up a cig doesn't bear thinking about. 

Choice, consequence.

This semester, I've had four students so far dropped from my class for non-payment of tuition.  One of them has come and talked to me, asking if I'd give them a copy of the text, and would let them back into class when they got the money together.  I asked them if their loans and grants hadn't come in on time, and they said that they had, but...they'd used the cash on a car.  Because they hated their old car, and wanted a new car.  And since they made that choice, I had to give them my textbook, and tell them to try again next semester, if they qualified for loans after they'd committed fraud. 

The choice made here was beyond stupid; the consequence could well be no more funding for college, at best, and jail time at worst.  Not to mention debt that never goes away.

Speaking of such, how many of us have seen the pitiful "I got a MA in Women's Studies, and can't find a full-time job, or one that pays more than minimum wage, and can't afford to feed my children" twits online?  Seriously, they put themselves into six-digit debt to an entity that never goes away, and doesn't vanish with a bankruptcy filing. 

Worse are the ones that almost make the right decisions: they get their degree, they go to work in their area, and find out they've been lied to about their likely income. 

I have a cousin in this situation.  She got a degree, and then a master's in social work.  Her advisors told her that she'd get a larger percentage paid by the government of her fees when she went to work as a counselor than someone who got a master's in psychology. 

She graduated, and went to work.  She got the larger percentage, yes, but it was a smaller dollar amount because a MS in psychology got paid half again what she did.  On the upside, she worked for five years in "underserved areas" and got her debt--something close to $60K--forgiven, so she doesn't have her student debt hanging over her head, just her husband's.   She's currently working seventy and eighty hours a week to be able to afford food, utilities, medical insurance, and other basic necessities, as well as her daughters' extra-curricular activities. 

My cousin is facing the consequences set for her by someone who lied to her, when she didn't research to make sure that what she was told was the truth.

Ooh--case in point of poor decisions: there is a student outside my classroom (my door is open, the lights are on, and I'm playing music on my laptop, so if they were paying attention, they'd realize that there was someone listening).  They're on their cell phone (bad choice #1--unneeded contract cost), complaining loudly about having to buy everything to stock a household because they chose to break the rental contract over a fight with their roommate (bad choice #2--the roomie, apparently, owned everything) and move out into their own apartment.  "Do you know how much everything costs?  How much money I'm having to spend on things like towels, and dishes, and stuff?"  Sounds like the poor darling is buying absolutely everything new--bad choice #3, since it's pretty easy to find durable goods used for pennies on the dollar of the price for new things.

Choices.  Consequences.  Suck it up, learn from it (not likely), and stop being stupid.  Life will be much easier when you're not paying stupid tax on your choices. 

Love

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  1 Corinthians 13: 4-8

I have often wondered at the way people pair up, and why they chose to pair up the way they have.  The really pretty, smart college girl dating the asshole jock.  The wonderful, sweet guy turning himself into a doormat for a raging, rabid feminist shrew.  The two people who barely know each other and barely like each other.  

"But I love him/her!"

Sure.  Chemical reactions are a strong force.  But that fades.  

Case in point: a few years ago, I helped a couple of friends through their divorce.  It was uncontested, not acrimonious at all.  They'd been married for ten years.  Unfortunately, they shared next to no interests, barely talked to each other, and the chemical attraction that led them to marriage within six months faded less than a year after they'd married.  

And that doesn't count the abusive relationships.

One of my aunts was rushed into marriage by her church.  She stayed married to the guy for three years before she went to the judge for a restraining order on my mother's insistence.  The final straw was when she showed up at my mom's for a visit with her eyes dazed, and bruising on both sides of her head.  Her husband had punched her in the side of the head while she was driving him to work, hard enough to knock her head into the window.  Hard enough to give her a concussion and a brief blackout.  While she was driving.

Abuse isn't always physical, either.  Any time a partner tells their significant other that they're worthless, that's emotional abuse.  When a partner tells a significant other that there's no way that they'll succeed at something, that's emotional abuse.  Telling a significant other that they are the cause of all of the problems, when they're trying their best to please the partner is emotional abuse.  It's all about power: who has it, and what they will do to keep it. I've seen this so very many times in the coffee shop in the university library that it makes me ill.

And that doesn't count the horrific articles I've read about acrimonious divorces: the wife filing a restraining order on a husband as a first step to guaranteeing full custody of a much beloved child.  The husband being painted as a ravening, dangerous beast by lawyers and a malicious, emotionally abusive spouse.  This has led directly to suicide, in some cases; in others, it leads to a man busting his ass to support and care for a child he will never be permitted to see again.

What I don't understand is why these people end up in situations like this in the first place.  What the girl dating the asshole jock has isn't love--it's emotional abuse.  What the sweet guy has with the raging feminist isn't love--unless it's based entirely on sado-masochism.  What the couple who gets together with nothing in common has isn't love--it is, at best, a chemical attraction that will fade quickly, leaving two nice people not meant for each other in an awkward place.  

I am in love with my husband.  I am in like with my husband.  My husband and I talk about everything from books to movies to politics to history to religion.  He's going back to college for his accounting degree, and even though it makes things much more difficult with regards to scheduling and spending time with each other, I'm behind him 100%, and I'm working to make things as easy on him as I can.  Because I love him.  

We spent three years during our dating nearly 200 miles apart.  We dated for three and a half years, were engaged for two and a half, and will have been married for ten years this coming July.  

I don't understand why we're in the minority.  I really don't.  I don't understand why people in bad relationships think they're in love, when what they have is so far from what we were told in Corinthians. 

consequences

Imp [whining]: Momma, I want a drink.

Me: Stop whining, and eat your supper.

Imp [still whining]: Momma, I want a drink.

Me: You have a cup of chocolate milk in the fridge that you can have after you eat your supper.  The sooner you stop whining and eat, the sooner you can have it.

(a couple of minutes pass)

Imp [still whining]: Momma, I want a napkin.

Me: No.  Now stop whining, and eat.  You have three more chances.  If you don't stop whining, you will be spending the entire evening alone in your room, and you won't be allowed to watch anything later.

(a couple of minutes pass)

Imp [still whining]: Momma, I gotta poop.

Me: You went just before supper.  Stop whining and eat.

Imp [still whining]: Momma, I gotta pee.

Me: No.  Last chance, son.  Stop whining, and eat.

Imp [whining with the addition of crocodile tears]: Momma, I want a drink!

Me: I warned you.  You will be spending the evening by yourself in your room.

Of course, that was followed up by genuine tears, and a promise that he'd stopped, and that he'd eat his supper, and that he'd be good, but...too late.  He's going to be going to his room as soon as he's done in the bathroom, and he'll not be coming out until it's time to brush teeth, then go to bed. 

I witnessed, during my office hours two weeks ago, the results of not placing and enforcing consequences: a whole flood of students who'd not turned in work on time bugging the communications computer lab tech about why couldn't they see their assignments to turn in two months ago, and could they still make that up, and could he fix things for them. 

That wasn't all I saw: I saw a grown man, in his thirties or forties, throw a fit at the nice Vietnamese lady who makes Starbucks' black coffee taste good because they'd run out of the blueberry scones in the case.  And when I say throw a fit, I mean screaming, red-faced, stomping, slapping his hands down on the counter, making everybody stare at him fit.  And no, I don't think he was special needs, just spoiled.

Both of those things could have been avoided by these individuals running up against firmly enforced, clear, fair consequences for poor choices and bad behavior in their childhood. 

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.

Growing up, I always got into trouble if I invoked the word "God" anywhere but in prayer.  Never mind that, in my mind, when I say "Oh, God," I'm usually intending it in a "What the hell are you doing, and why hasn't anybody stopped you?  I'll pray for your safety" type of way. 

I never once felt I was taking His name in vain.  No, there were people all around me that I saw doing that. 

"Did you know that when you do that/don't do that, you make Jesus cry?"  I heard that one from my grandmother a lot.  It was an attempt to guilt trip me into behaving myself.  I'm pretty sure that she made Jesus cry taking His name in vain like that.

"God is on our side!"  No, he isn't.  He is on the side of those who are on His side, and it's pretty demonstrable that most people claiming that He is on theirs are not on His, solely by their actions.

"God hates fags."  No, he doesn't.  The Bible pretty clearly says that He loves everyone, even those who sin against Him.  There's even two or three parables where the return of the lost sinner to the fold of the faithful is cause for celebration. 

"If you don't go to our church, you're not hearing God's word, and He's gonna send you to hell."  Um...see above.  All of the above.  People who go to churches that think this are definitely taking His name in vain.  

Considering that almost every church I've ever visited thinks this, even if they don't outright say it, that's sad.

"God loves you, but everyone else thinks you're a jerk."  I can't really say anything about that.  It's probably true in a lot of cases.  I know it definitely can be said accurately a lot of the time in mine.