Mental Calisthenics

The person who cuts my hair is a JW. 

Most of the time, that's her thing and it doesn't come up in our conversation.

We've discussed it a couple times over the last few years, she once got her tablet out and wanted to 'share' with me, which I shut down.

"Um, no. This isn't something I'm doing."
I was surprised when she let it drop, really.

She handed me a letter at the end of my December appointment right after my dad died, wanting me to know that I "could see him again in eternity." I accepted that she meant well and was trying to offer comfort. The idea that I didn't need comforting and had more of a 'meh' feeling than anything else wouldn't have been something she'd understand. And she's my hairstylist, not a confidante. Not my best friend. Just a person who was trying to help. When I saw her again, I thanked her for the kind letter and let it drop.

There are people who might think I should be rude and shut it down firmly when religion is tossed at me as a comfort or a cure-all. The solution for everything!

I can't, even though I strongly disagree with the whole religion thing, as most of my readers know.

But I was raised in Evangenital Christianity, and I know firsthand how hard it is to escape from that mindset. 

I also feel that it's like any other addiction, if the addict isn't open to help, you're not going to change them or change their minds.

She had a really rough childhood and in my experience, JWs are vultures when it comes to stuff like that. They prey on the vulnerable/searching for answers and of course there's the generational indoctrination thing. (She had both.)

I am able to respect a person without having the same beliefs they have, but if I believed in hell, I'd think there was a special section reserved for religious predators.

So call my reluctance to hurt her feelings an act of kindness in an increasingly unkind world. She isn't a bad person, just misguided.

During today's haircut, religion was a hot topic. 
She's getting ready to retire, and I'm down to my last two haircuts with her.

She's retiring because she wants to spend more time doing things with her church. More door knocking and trying to "help" mankind. Like so many others, her church is her family, her social club, her refuge from the world. Her tribe, if you will.

She held forth on how all the answers are in the good book. And how comforting it is that the message from JW is exactly the same, whether you're in New Zealand or Mississippi. 
"God's always the same, isn't that wonderful?"

When I told her a recent story about one of my co-workers having to call DHS due to possible abuse, she explained (I hadn't asked) that 'god knows what's going on, but he can't just stop all those things at once, it would throw everything into chaos'.

Reminded me of the question(s) I've seen asked more than once, Starting with, "Is God all-powerful?" Of course the answer to that one is always yes. "So, if you were God, what would you fix to make the world a better place because you love your children? Childhood cancer? Hunger? Physical or mental defects? Would you stop devastating floods and earthquakes?"

There are varying answers, then the original questioner says, "Your god hasn't fixed any of that. Why?"

Of course then you get 'mysterious ways' or some other weak-assed platitude about how 'none of us know the mind of god'.

I know a lot of people derive comfort from their religious beliefs.
Who am I to take that from them?

Meanwhile, my own issue is much more pragmatic.
She does a decent job cutting my hair, there's no way in hell I'm going to go back to the slash and dash establishments because I don't want a crappy haircut.

So I'm searching for someone who won't charge me a week's grocery money to trim my hair every five weeks or so.

Religion optional.

Aw, and they said it would never last.

Neither one of us looks like that anymore.

They also figured I was pregnant. 
But since we didn't have a baby for 7.5 years, I think most of our detractors figured it out.

46 years ago today a couple of really young adults got married.

We had no idea what we were doing.
There are days we still don't.

It's interesting and not necessarily in a good way to realize that we really are on the downhill side of everything.

Huh.

Happy Halloween!

 

Hey, Bunker Boys!

Just a little thought exercise here.

I keep hearing about the bunkers the rich shitbags have built against civil unrest or some sort of natural disaster, but no one ever references possible outcomes as seen in science fiction.

Two different scenarios come to mind. 

Either the rich asshole shows up with his family and the 'caretaker' he hired to keep the place stocked and ready tells him to piss off, he doesn't own it anymore now that the comet has hit/the government/ministry of magic has fallen or the rich asshole and whatever human garbage he brings along go into the bunker as planned, someone bulldozes over it and they never come out.

I know they have all the money in the world.
I know they all think they're invincible.

That arrogance can (and probably eventually will be) be used against them.

I am so sick of people (people? really?) like these being allowed to cause harm to everyone else.

People can't afford to live. They're sick, they can't afford medical care, they can't afford to have children or a home.

We can blame politics, and we're not wrong, but there's more to it than simple politics.

All kinds of theories about how we got here, but I think what happened is that people behaved badly, were allowed to do so, and more people looked up to them than those who looked down on them until it was too late. Power tripping has increased exponentially. 

I'm guessing that when they do head down into those bunkers, most of us won't get to witness the end of their stories.

But so many sci fi stories I've read have ended up being prophetic.

Which kabillionaire would you most like to see being turned away from the bunker?
Which one would you prefer to have covered over once they're in?

Let's get together!

I spend a bit of time reading things on social media. 

A recurring topic lately has been class reunions. 
People want to know!
Do you go, do you decide against it?
If you went, how was it?

There are many stories, mostly people who went and now they're sorry they did.
 
Anecdotes about how the same cliques exist, the same feelings of being left out, the same social awkwardness. Yanks people right back to the angst years. There is some gloating. 

(Wow, the cheerleaders didn't age well and Bertha is like 350 lbs and Bob is bald!!)

I've skipped every single reunion since my graduation in 1979. 
I'm in touch with a few people who were high school friends. 
I still consider them friends, but of course our relationships aren't the same 48 years later. Occasional messaging and Christmas cards, primarily.

Everyone else I went to high school with is off doing their own thing, as I am.

A few weeks ago, Mr. Superjock posted something on the book of face. 
He's not on my list of friends, but is on the list of a couple people I know, so I occasionally see his posts.

He was going on about a school track record he broke back in 1978 and how no one else had even come close. He seemed quite pleased with himself. This caused me to reflect on how sad it is for someone to have peaked at 17 years old, is now 65 and still living back in his glory days and posting about it on social media. 

What's really crazy?
The people who fawned over him and followed his mean ass around, shitting on other people still do it. They yuck it up when he makes some stupid joke and all of them chime in with some comment to make sure he sees them. 
They click 'like' and respond to his commentary every time he posts.

It's really weird. 
They're still afraid of not being part of the 'in' group.

I remember him differently.
We met in 5th grade.  

Mostly I had nothing to do with him until my sophomore year in high school. 
That's when our "teacher" introduced the idea of debate. Steve was (surprise!!!) STILL AN ASSHOLE!! Tolman was an asshole, too. Just the grown up variety. Huh. Wonder if he was a Steve when he was in school?

Anyway, there's really not a big point to this post.
It's what's on my mind this morning.

Do you go to your reunions?
Are you in touch with the people who were your friends back then?
Did you have a guy like Steve in your high school? (We had more than one, he was just the worst.)

I think we all live partly in the past, how can it be otherwise? The things that happen to us and around us become part of who we are. But we can choose to limit our exposure to continued trauma/angst/aggravation. Being around Steve, even in small increments was detrimental to my mental health at a time when there were many other things hurting me. So his part in it was magnified.

He was still an asshole, though.

Sometimes, Shit Happens

Remember Ethan from a couple weeks ago? 

He's still having some issues with the afternoon bathroom thing. My theory is that because of the way his day is structured he doesn't have time to sit in the bathroom and has to hold it in all day. When I list '25 things I don't like about mass education', young humans not being able to listen to and trust their bodies always makes the list. 

When school gets out, the first order of business after checking in and washing hands is snack time. 

Ethan loves snack time. He's always starving when he comes in. 
This is a normal thing for kinders, their little bodies are used to a different schedule most of the time. 

Many of them are accustomed to eating/snacking all day until school starts. 
Then school starts and everything from peeing and getting a drink to moving your body is on an externally-imposed schedule.

Regulated/regimented.
So confusing and overwhelming for a small person to handle.

After snacks and clean up, it's time to go outside. 

And that's when Ethan's eyes get big, his little face looks urgent and he runs to me doing the butt tuck scooch (hard to describe but I'll bet you know what I mean) and he says, "I have to go to the bathroom!!"

So while we're counting kids and lining up and getting the equipment cart and official bug out bag out the door, he's in the bathroom. One of us has to stand in the open door of the building until he comes out, sometimes it's 10 minutes or more. We don't leave a child inside the building without supervision.

Next is another predictable thing.
He comes out of the bathroom looking sheepish, embarrassed, timid.

"I think there's some poop on my butt."

Translation: I had to wait all day to poop, I can't wipe properly and now I'm a mess.

Poor little guy.
Sending him back to clean up doesn't work, he isn't able to take care of it once it's happened.

There's one good thing about his timing, though. 
Everyone is playing outside and no one has even noticed that Ethan is having a problem. 

I always assure him that it's not a big deal, that sometimes it happens.
"It's okay, Buddy. Come sit outside and I'll call your dad."

The way I put phone numbers in the site phone is in alphabetical order with child name first. 

Like this: Ethan Dad Jack (599) 555-1234.
My reasoning is that if someone is subbing at my site there's a better chance they will know a child's first name rather than a parent's name and it will be faster to find in the event of an emergency. 

Dad is patient and not grumpy, but a little disbelief creeps into his voice when I call.
"This is not an emergency. But..."
"Again?"

Since we're outside, Ethan can sit on one of the benches while we wait for his dad and none of the other kids catch on. As far as they know, he's just getting picked up.

On Wednesday, Ethan once again came running to me while we were getting ready to go outside.

"I have to go poop RIGHT NOW!" he said as he ran toward the bathroom. I gestured 'go ahead'.

He passed me on the run, took another four or five running steps and paused.

"Don't worry," he said with that engaging little grin he has. "I've been practicing my wipe skills."