anger. it’s only one letter away from DANGER.


I never use this blog anymore.  I spend a lot of time angry at myself as a result of that.  I actually spend a lot of my time just plain angry.  I’ve said it a million times before, people like the funny girl when she is witty and funny, notsomuch when she is pissed off or talking about real shit.  Here it goes anyway.

 

I am pissed off about so many things I might not be able to fit it all in one blog.  I guess I can do an ‘angry’ series.  Whatever.

 

Where do I start?  How about my anger toward this world I am trying to raise my children in.  Yesterday I picked my kindergartner up from school and she told me about the drill they had earlier that day.  It wasn’t a fire drill or a tornado drill.  It was an intruder drill.  What is an intruder drill you ask?  It’s where all the kids ‘pretend’ there is a bad guy in their school (the place where they are supposed to feel safe) and he wants to hurt them, so all they have to do is hide and be very quiet so he doesn’t know where they are.  They were told to sit very still and huddle together in the corner while a man walked through the building and beat on every classroom door and tried to get in.  As she was telling me about this drill, I was fighting back two things:  1. Tears  2. Rage.  I elaborated on what they had already told her by telling her she should try to find a really small place where she could tuck herself away and not be seen.  I also told her that if a bad guy came to her school, she might hear other sounds besides him knocking on the door.  I told her it might sound like fireworks like the 4th of July and there might be more than one bad guy, and no matter what kind of scary sounds she hears, she can’t cry or make any sounds.  She didn’t bat an eye when I said these things to her.  Is she that desensitized at the tender age of 5 1/2?  Apparently.  Did I do that to her?  Maybe a little.  I think it could also be the fact that every time we turn on the news in the morning there’s more shootings or robberies or some kind of standoff.  My big kids have an ‘intruder’ strategy as well.  It’s gruesome, but they will just lie in another kid’s blood and play dead.  I can’t believe I just typed that, but it’s the truth.  I am angry that I have to have these types of conversations with my kids.  I do not understand evil, which I guess is a good thing, because ‘it takes one to know one.’

 

I remember April 20, 1999 like it was yesterday.  I was sitting at home, 9 months pregnant with my first child when the horrific massacre took place at Columbine High School.  It was then that I first started to wonder if maybe it was a selfish idea for me to bring children into this world.  So to make myself look like a fool for having just made that statement…my oldest daughter was born in February 2001; when she was seven months old, on September 11, 2001; our country endured the most deadly attack in history.  Violence begets violence, so it has really all just gone on and on since then.  This past month the world watched while news reporters covered the story of an 18-year old kid who was shot in Ferguson, MO.  That’s 30 miles from our home.  As if that wasn’t enough, the only story on EVERY SINGLE CHANNEL was how an angry mob would wait like cockroaches to come out at night and steal and ruin everything in that city.  It was race-driven too, so there was an irrational (but kind of legit) fear that they would start to spread out and attack in unsuspecting predominantly white neighborhoods.  Robbing stores, stealing rims and hair weaves, throwing Molotov cocktails at police, shooting guns and behaving like wild animals.  Why?  All supposedly a part of ‘peaceful protest’ in the name of the man who was gunned down.  What a crock of shit.

 

The United States feels like a world where people can’t let go of anguish or suffering.  People of every ethnicity feel entitled to things because they are bred to feel that way.  Does your back hurt?  You are entitled to disability pay from our government.  Did you have too many babies?  You need free money for that.  Were your ancestors oppressed?  Then line up!  We have money for that!  What is this place?  When did everyone feel like they could just tell you they are entitled to something?  What happened to people just doing nice things because it’s the right thing to do?  Karma is real, everyone.  I don’t care what religion you are or aren’t.  Basically every single philosophy tells you the same story.  It’s not a theory, it’s truth.  You get out of this life what you put into it.  Which is why I am not rich and famous.  I am lazy.  I get distracted easily.  Lately I find myself sitting on the couch every night staring at my phone on some social media website like some kind of fucking zombie while my kids do the same thing.  I am part of the problem.  Can I get a check every month for that?  Ha!

 

I guess there really isn’t a point to this.  I just have to let off a little steam once in a while so that I can sleep at night.  I have problems, but someone else has bigger problems.  I want to be a person who can not only endure my own drama, but also be helpful to friends when they need me.  Lately though, I’m not in the mood.  The LAST thing I need on a very long list of shit is to get a phone call from someone who needs to ‘cry it out’ or have me cheer them up.  I walk around pissed like 97% of the time.  There are other factors at play, but at the risk of losing the livelihood that keeps those phones in my kids’ hands I will refrain.  I literally just typed it all out and then deleted every word.

 

Sorry I didn’t make you laugh, so I will share something with you that will LITERALLY get me through the day tomorrow.

 

Today as we were driving along, my 5-year-old saw a limousine, probably the first one she has seen in ‘real life’ and she said, “Wow!  Is that one of those things that takes the beautiful people to the shows?”

“Yes, it is.”

 

I love that kid.

 

I feel the inclination to apologize for my rant, but I am not sorry.  You have a choice when you read, thank you for choosing Padinkydink.

 

Peace.