Category: states

  • caught in a trap… that was an elvis song, wasn’t it?

    caught in a trap… that was an elvis song, wasn’t it?

    Before the policy change (you can’t focus on my hairy legs or the white socks (in this case “anklets”)

    I get gut-aches when I’m stressed.

    I’ve endured a lot of stress, but still, when it is extra bad, I get gut aches. This didn’t start suddenly. I think that this first started when I was about 10 or 11.

    Stress starts at home – The parent child struggles

    I may have started getting stress like this when I was a kid – maybe I did have those things that I just couldn’t sort out, those conundrums of the day to day, where sometimes my mom tried to help, but when she did – telling me that everything would be alright, most of the time it didn’t turn out that way, and it was the same shit show, different day, every day.

    The issue, I’ve since realized, is that my Mom had a very limited concept of my reality. Her oversight and her policies did not fit – like they were created in another decade, more likely to have worked in a small town 15 years prior (or more). We lived in a big city. I would say that it being in the early-1960’s, and being where we lived, the culture was quite different from where my Mom had grown up, with the exception of when she was at university – but she was older then. I think that she should have known better, but, I’m not sure.

    Her understanding of my day to day was very limited to the point that sometimes, her rules made my life even more difficult. They got me bullied. Big time.

    Because of this situation, I went to extremes, at an early age, to both escape the ridicule that following her rules would bring me, and learning to shape-shift back to appearing to follow her rules by the time I got off the bus each afternoon. This was tricky, as some of the ridicule was dished out by the kids on the bus… to the last minute before I got to my stop. I look back on those days and shiver… Truly.

    This was the beginning of the time of my life that I would never want to repeat – grades 6-12. Ok, maybe grade 12, things changed somewhat, but certainly through grade 11. Total living hell.

    Yeah – that was me just before fourth grade – that’s how my Mom wanted me to look – maybe forever? Maybe until end of 12th grade? Who knows? Dig the white crew socks that I tried to make look like knee highs, oh, and that hat – those were “a thing” back then!

    Back then the policy created by my Mom, that dictated my dress code was: “not allowed to wear make-up” “must wear socks” “not allowed to shave legs, or armpits”.

    OK, the situation was that I was well into puberty. I had dark brown hair. My mom tried to dress me like I was in 3rd grade. Even in 3rd grade I didn’t want to wear what she put out for me to wear each day. I became very rebellious. This got me into trouble. Let’s say that we spent a lot of time struggling, but to no avail.

    In retrospect, I suspect that these were the seeds of my learning to troubleshoot problems, and build solutions! Put a difficult problem in front of me – given enough time, I’ll figure out the solution!

    The daily living hell

    As you could imagine, the kids at school made fun of my “hairy legs”, told me I looked ugly (no make-up), called me names that I can’t remember as I have blocked them out of my memory, and of course, wearing the white socks didn’t help with the vision of my hairy legs – complete with the dorky shoes (my Mom insisted I wear “tie up shoes” aka “Oxfords” vs. the ever popular penny-loafers, because they gave me “more arch support”. This was Texas, honey, not Boston! Let’s say that her ideas about fashion for a junior high aged girl were not aligned with reality.

    This was the age of the rock and roll emerging from England! Twiggy! Eye-lashes! Mini-skirts! Revlon “Frosted Malt” and “Sugar and Ice” lipstick. Carnaby Street! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Hey you, get off of my cloud! You get the picture.

    White socks, dorky shoes, hairy legs, no make-up, along with home-made clothes – in a school where how you looked was a top thing of importance – and there was a merciless “in crowd” that relished giving people that didn’t fit their “criteria of looks for acceptance” a cruelty filled hard time.

    I’m surprised I didn’t jump out a window or slit my wrists – oh right… we had a one-story house, and I had no access to razors (not allowed to shave my legs or armpits, remember?).

    Oh yeah, one last thing – I had achieved the puberty level, and I hadn’t been allowed to wear a bra. That was the icing on the cake.

    I walked around thinking, “kill me now.”

    Oh, and did I mention that my chunky figure didn’t help? Back then I was also taller than most of the boys, and had my paternal family’s genetics that trended heavy to extremely heavy. Thankfully, mostly, I was just heavy. Chunky, as they called it.

    The plan

    OK, so what I decided to do, with the aid of some close friends, was to figure out how to (1) buy some lipstick and eyeliner, at least, (2) try to talk my mom into the loafers or at least Keds sneakers, and (3) devise a plan to put on make-up, off load the socks, and get myself together for facing the tough crowd, then (4) unroll all of that at the end of the bus ride home at the last possible moment so that I could blitz off the bus with little attention.

    This is what you call, “classic sneaking”. That was the solution that I put into practice and did so for the better part of the last semester of sixth grade. I figured that as long as I didn’t get caught, I could work on my Mom over the summer months to get her to allow me to do those things, and to continue to work on her (badger), enduring the fights that we would have, until I wore her down and got my way.

    The Summer Break

    Let’s say that this was interesting, and as it turned out, in her counsel with my Dad’s boss’s wife, who had three older teenage girls, the advice to my Mom was, “pick your battles…the ones ahead are going to be much more difficult, and these things you’re insisting on are not helping, and trivial by comparison.”

    So, in her fashion of listening to older women, who were financially better off and a member of the right clubs, and whose husband was her husband’s boss, she issued the revised policies for my dress code – finally – before the school session resumed.

    Oh, and also, while I was attending church camp. the girls there, “helped” me shave my hairy pits and legs! I got home and synchronicity happened! The rule change + I had already had my first shaving session.

    School again

    So it went. That part improved, but in seventh grade, more stress emerged. I got gut aches. I got head aches. I had my “monthly” to deal with, that caused more “gut aches”. I was in a swirl. Eventually, I did get used to this – these never went away. My Dad told me about “Tums”. Those helped. But at the end of the day, stress management wasn’t a thing back then. It was just “deal with it the best that you can” oh… and take Tums for the tummy!

    Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!- end of seventh grade – chunky monkey – but the belly button showed and NO SOCKS + wore makeup! Dance party – crazy!

  • getting really bizarre here lately on planet earth… more to add to the chapter entitled “The Big Unfair”…

    getting really bizarre here lately on planet earth… more to add to the chapter entitled “The Big Unfair”…

    Should have captured a photo the other day of the remarkable map that we could observe using satellite imagery and radar – oh. my. gosh.

    There’s a thumbnail below of the storms – but, we’re not through the “season” yet… Last year, another Cat 5, Hurricane Michael, visited in October, chasing on the heels of Florence, involving some of the same damaged areas, still recovering from just under a month before – 16 storms in 2018 – 3 Cat 1’s, 3 Cat 2’s, 1 Cat 4, and 1 Cat 5, in addition to tropical depressions and tropical storms that fell into the total list before the season ended – the last one being the end of October, but not making landfall.

    The prior year, 2017, was a “doosey” by all accounts, having 18 storms in the Atlantic – 2 incredibly damaging Cat 5’s, 2 incredibly damaging Cat 4’s – Harvey producing the historic record for total rainfall, doing incredible amounts of damage – still not completely determined, two years out – the recovery will continue for years.

    With Irma, and Maria, Jose – all battering the USA and it’s territories, the costs are continuing to stress the economic resources – not to mention Mr. Crazy, whose influence as president and decider in chief, has altered the resource direction by his idiotic priorities. Let’s say that $282 billion and counting does a number on the resource pool. 2018, so far, is shaping up to be over $50 billion, and it’s only the first week in September.

    Storm severity seems to trend higher in August-September and October for some reason, so the big numbers may be forthcoming, but let’s hope things calm down.

    Multiple tropical storms churning in the worlds oceans. Powerful storms. Another “Category 5” storm rips apart – literally destroys – a vacation spot visited by many for decades – which reset everyone’s frame of reference and definitely created a paradigm shift.

    Crazy weather – dangerous storms more frequently forming these days…

    This is not the stuff of disaster movies anymore. It’s real life.

    Essentially a couple of islands on the the east side of The Bahamas are no more in terms of life as people knew it. Like bad yard work, just mowing without any tidying – it’s an awful thought that NOTHING exists much there that isn’t destroyed. No modern anything.

    Giant piles of rubble, likely burying alive people who could not get out of the way – TBD on the fatality count. We know that the number can grow from these disasters – largely people who do not have a lot of money and fancy resources, living the island life, surviving day to day as they always have for as long as The Bahamas have existed as a place where people live.

    Lots of dangerous messes. Not even a way to start from scratch without a whole lot of effort – and think of this: forklifts, and big dump trucks that would help – there is no place to off-load them without building a dock or a ramp – those were also destroyed. The mother-of-invention has arrived. Let’s see if human invention and innovation kick-in… Depends on how badly or whether it is reasonable to rebuild – before the next monster arrives…

    Just do the Wikipedia thing and review in short the history of this group of islands.

    I visited The Bahamas only once – in 1985. Fun trip, but strange… interesting. I never had much desire to return, but, it wasn’t the fault of The Bahamas. It was mostly that the company and the experience with the fellow travelers and tourists did not set well. Didn’t get to stay long.

    It was an expensive place to visit. Why? Because everything is shipped in that feeds the economy.

    Tourism IS the economy. Perhaps if you throw in illegal drug trade, that might be a hidden sub-economy… Financial Services (the proverbial “bank account in The Bahamas”) ranking second, and Agriculture (yes, they do grow and export “tropical things” as their third most prevailing economic money-generator.

    Oh and did I mention the casinos? Yep. Vegas Baby – it’s like that. Every island has a casino or hundred… It’s a thing. Part of why people visit there – maybe pay for their trip expenses or accommodations or meals.

    But on the pleasant and fun side of the tourism equation – aside from the potential for staying totally intoxicated throughout a visit, if you are so inclined, scuba diving, water-skiing, fishing for giant catch, every water sport you can imagine – anything related to coral reef activities and crystal turquoise (or deep blue) water – that’s where you go (at least one of the places) to experience that.

    The people there, by and large, are a mixture of indigenous and migrants from nearby islands and other places, particularly Africa. The Bahamians generally do not refer to “dissolved” multi-cultural categorizations – you are either “black” or “white”. As with other nations that have inhabitants with various skin-tones, whereby the darker are the majority, the white folks generally get nicknames. In the case of The Bahamas, white people get called “Conchy Joe”, in much the same manner as white people get called “gringos”, or other somewhat potentially sarcastic labels.

    The original people who first inhabited the islands were Lucayans, according to the most up to date research. The islands were first inhabited best-guess between 500-800 AD. Research shows that likely these folks came to the various islands, potentially from other islands, originating from somewhere in northern South America – probably the eastern areas. Fascinating history of how these island populations evolved.

    The whole laid-back atmosphere of the culture has evolved over time. Generous, graceful, and athletic – by and large- but, at times “polluted” by western cultural influences and the chasing of the almighty dollar – plus issues related to the fast-food trends – just like other places across the planet – the norms and influences, and the takeovers of countries…

    Back to today, now the situation on Mother Earth is changing at an accelerated rate, and we are witnessing what happens to fragile areas when the seas get angry and super-storms develop. Anyone want to wager on whether there will become a Category 6 sometime in the next few years, as storms trend to be Category 5’s more often and push the upper levels?

    As we have been warned, the economic impacts will be significant during the “adjustment period” to the new normal generated by the changing climate trends.

    You throw in the ever increasing wild fires destroying whole towns, well… let’s just say that Mother Earth’s anger at her human inhabitants is coming out in many forms. Remembering that old commercial “You can’t fool Mother Nature” – it’s true… She’s no fool – and Mother Earth is her favorite grand-baby.

    Like the Game of Risk, these “machinations” continue to destroy unique cultures as the civilization of indigenous peoples is driven by “big religion” efforts, “big plantation” AKA “corporitization” efforts, technology, social engineering (another nice word for exploitation, which is just another form of human aggression, takeover, and control) – all of these forms have been doing this, in some evolutionary format, since the dawn of humans on the planet – humans are “born to take” – despite the internal “guilt” instilled by God only knows what, in some cases – each human being has more or less the drive to acquire something.

    But that, dear readers, is an entirely different discussion… for a different day.

    For now, this tragedy, added to the tragedies of Puerto Rico, and other “destructed places in paradise”, is still unfolding and yet to be understood fully – and will not be for a very long while…

    Stay tuned here for more opinions and updates.

  • Another one bites the dust…  Maybe we really weren’t friends…

    Another one bites the dust… Maybe we really weren’t friends…

    In my life, friends have come and gone – some really have gone, but that’s another subject for another day…

    When you look back on your life, you reflect on your actions, the setting, and mostly, the people, at least I do that. Who was there…what we did…the memorable conversation… And what? It ended, we moved on or we maybe still have some semblance of a relationship. We can think back and go, “Oh, that was really a great time..” Sometimes we forget about most of the bad parts of our episodes in life, thinking that things were hunky-dory, then someone else who was there brings up that thing that wasn’t so hunky-dory – and so it goes – everyone has their own perspectives.

    And then, there are the aspects of aging and the memories (the old noggin hard drive is getting packed with them) – and the memory capabilities – apparently, from about 40, it goes downhill from there – yet many people have very good capabilities of retention of certain memories, and zilch for others – selective…

    Then there’s the replay that we cannot seem to control. Over and over it plays, keeping us up at night when the sleep robbers are most active…

    When I think of a twenty-plus year relationship, and then suddenly you realize that it wasn’t what you thought it was, it’s that Winnie-the-Pooh quote:

    ” When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.”

    It’s how it is when this happens… What your premise was, is not what the other person’s premise is and suddenly, you find out in a situation whereby you go, “Wow. Really?” Then you must process that, come to grips with it, like anything else, it’s a “change management” process that your mind must go through – your emotions included – to adjust. Here we go again.

    Then, there’s the ego threat – am I right, am I wrong, is it “no-fault”? Is there any peace? Yes. There might be some peace, but you have to work for it.

    Existential Thought of the Day: “If I just sit here and be quiet, will anyone call? Will anyone write? Will I just eventually disappear?”