...because I loved this movie.
If you click the link and you don't immediately think "eeew...WTF?", then you deserve a lot of credit. Most people would probably be put off by the sight of a flabby middle aged man sans shirt even before they recognized the name Aleister Crowley, and on both counts they would probably wonder what on earth could be the appeal.
It's definitely not for everybody. I read a lot of terrible reviews, mostly from people who were totally unprepared for the subject matter or who watched the movie just because the guy from Iron Maiden wrote the screenplay and were disappointed. But I also read some reviews that I must agree with--that yes, it's a mess, but an entertaining and very worthwhile mess. And I'd rather watch that than some overhyped "important" movie that won countless festival awards and still manages to be duller than a blank screen.
One reassurance to the prudish, and a warning to those hoping for tons of perversion and gore, is that the movie turns out to be far more mild than one might expect. To be honest, I've seen more disturbing acts of violence in mainstream thrillers and more nudity and graphic sex in highbrow Masterpiece Theatre types of films. "Crowley" was actually rather tame. Which is kind of a letdown for a movie about someone who reveled in shocking people.
But all criticism aside, I still found myself thinking about how much I enjoyed the movie long after I watched it, and that's a rarity even with quality films. Simon Callow is simply brilliant. I'm not sure who else could have played the role with such relish (or who else would have the nerve). The rest of the cast could just stand there and stare at the floor, and the movie would still be enjoyable thanks to Callow. If you don't recognize the name, he was also in "Shakespeare in Love." Speaking of popular highbrow movies that are more risque than this one.
For anyone who's interested, "Crowley" (aka "Chemical Wedding") is on Netflix Instant View, at least for the time being. Give it a try.
Friday, July 31, 2009
And lead me not into temptation...
This blog.
Just what I DON'T need to be looking at right now. Even if all these clothes and shoes are bargains. My money needs to go to more important things right now.
But check out the purple shoes with the black ribbons in the July 31st entry...
...holy shit!!!!!
Those are the stuff of serious fantasy.
*hits the "x" button quickly before getting self into trouble*
Just what I DON'T need to be looking at right now. Even if all these clothes and shoes are bargains. My money needs to go to more important things right now.
But check out the purple shoes with the black ribbons in the July 31st entry...
...holy shit!!!!!
Those are the stuff of serious fantasy.
*hits the "x" button quickly before getting self into trouble*
Thoughts on a murdered child
No updates in almost two weeks. I apologize.
Often, I'll have an idea of something I want to blog about that soon becomes too weighty, too depressing, or too whatever, and I'll ultimately decide against posting it here. Or I discover new information, change my opinion, or simply lose interest before I make it this far. That's been the case these past two weeks.
One thing that has been on my mind quite a bit (and probably others' as well) is the recent incident where a woman killed and cannibalized her baby.
Yeah...THIS is going to be a happy post. I can hear the signs now, and I'm sorry.
Just let me get this one out of the way.
This incident bothers me in ways that probably don't bother the majority of people responding in similar horror and disgust to this story. Whereas most people's horror and disgust is leveled at the mother, mine (so far) is not.
Don't think for a second that I'm denying the obvious crime, suffering, and tragedy that accompanies an act like this. Of course I'm not. But what so many people fail to acknowledge amidst their knee-jerk gasps and finger pointing is that there is a strong likelihood that the mother was suffering from schizophrenia when she committed this crime.
Now, I realize that no formal diagnosis has yet been made. Some of her relatives and acquaintances have said that she has been battling mental illness for a long time. Others have said that she may have a drug problem. I looked for further information before posting to see if she has undergone any psychiatric evaluations, but I have found nothing as of yet from our fickle media.
Her boyfriend of six years--who is himself a diagnosed schizophrenic--denies that she is mentally ill and has stated that he wants her to receive the death penalty and "hopes that she burns in hell" (his exact words) for killing "his" child.
Why is it that I feel more angry at him than I do at her?
Well, for one thing, does his own diagnosis automatically qualify him to make psychiatric evaluations of other people? Can he tell who is and who is not a schizophrenic because he happens to be one? To what degree can we even trust his judgments and perceptions?
At the risk of sounding incredibly insensitive, do people who live in glass psych wards have the right to throw stones?
Another thing: he is acting like he is the only parent in this situation who lost a child. This child had TWO parents, and if the one who killed this little boy did so because she was psychotic, then she is still a bereaved party underneath the burden of her illness. That's why I put the word "his" in quotations. This was her child too. Once she is under treatment (if indeed she is mentally ill), I have no doubt that she will grieve this baby at least as much as the father does. When rescue personnel arrived at the scene of the crime, she had already severely injured herself attempting suicide.
As far as the death penalty goes, I really don't understand why she was indicted for capital murder before undergoing a psychiatric evaluation. I'm no lawyer, but what happens if she is declared incompetent to stand trial? I guess she would be committed the same way she would if found not guilty by reason of insanity. I just would have expected the prosecution to wait for the results of an evaluation before formally pressing charges.
Which brings us to the long standing question of whether a mentally ill person is really responsible for his or her crimes. Did this woman murder her baby? Or did schizophrenia do it? How much can a person be separated, in terms of responsibility, from his or her psychosis? And what about sentencing--is committing a person intended to treat or to punish?
One story I read mentioned that women suffering from psychiatric disorders like schizophrenia are significantly more likely to suffer from postpartum depression and postpartum psychosis. It would only add to the tragedy if it turned out that this woman's underlying illness only became apparent after she finally "cracked" and committed this horrific deed.
Also, from what I read, there were signs that something was wrong long before the murder took place. And that suggests that this tragedy could have been prevented. Why wasn't it? Could it have anything to do with the woman's boyfriend and his battle with schizophrenia overshadowing her struggles?
It wouldn't be the first time that one partner's personal issues eclipsed the other person. To hear the boyfriend talk, it's all about him. It was HIS child. Taken away from HIM. HE wants her, whom he supposedly used to love, to burn in hell. I understand that when a person is killed, it is the survivors who suffer the anguish and the grief, and it is natural that they speak from the perspective of their own pain rather than the (already extinguished) pain of the dead. It just bothers me that he feels that he is the only victim here. There are three immediate victims--the baby and BOTH parents--and countless others who care for these people.
Maybe I should cut him a break for being schizophrenic as well as devastated, but he is waging emotional and verbal war against a woman who may be just as ill (and innocent) as he.
There is one more thing that really bothers me about this man. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit this, but I find it very upsetting how quickly and completely he abandoned his love for his child's mother.
Now, hold on a second. Before you scream at me "that's because she killed their kid, you idiot!", hear me out.
Imagine: you fall in love with someone, you form a romantic and personal partnership, and you stay with that person through six years. Not weeks or months. Years. That's more than a lot of marriages last these days. Your relationship weathers your own mental illness, and your partner sticks by you nonetheless. You have a child together. Then a horrific tragedy occurs.
I know. You're still thinking "yeah, the tragedy is that she killed their kid."
But this jerk is not even willing to consider the very likely possibility that she suffers from the same mental illness that he does. And if he did accept the possibility, I still suspect that he would despise her all the same. Because their child is dead and she is, however indirectly, the reason.
I guess what I'm getting at is this: why does all the love and empathy and support suddenly disappear when a child dies this way?
Whatever happened to "hate the sin but love the sinner"? Imagine if things were the other way around and the mother were murdered by her schizophrenic child? Something tells me that the father would not stop loving the child even as he grieved the loss of his wife/girlfriend. He would probably demand that the child be institutionalized where he or she could receive the proper treatment and be prevented from harming others. There may be a tremendous amount of anger and resentment. The father may not want to be around his child any more. But the love would survive, because the bond of family is that strong.
So why isn't it the same way between spouses and partners? Why should the love between parent and child run deeper and go further than the love between the parents of that child?
After all, it takes both parents to create a child. Shouldn't that shared creation strengthen a romantic partnership? I'm not talking about relationships and marriages that break down for reasons unrelated to the children. I'm talking about people who were truly in love and committed to one another before the child was lost. Like these two apparently were.
But what do I know?
For whatever reason, this guy decided that his child was more important to him than his child's mother. That's the bottom line. Never mind that they're both in the same psychiatric boat. That makes no difference to him. He cannot forgive her for their child's death. The child is worth more to him than she is. And I find that beyond sad.
One of the countless reasons that I do not want children of my own is the fear that my husband would love our child more than he loves me.
There, I've said it.
Call me petty, call me selfish, call me jealous and possessive. Maybe I am. But I can't help the way I feel, and I can't stand the idea that someone else could eclipse me in my husband's heart. I'm not saying that, if we had a child, I would want him to love me more. I just wouldn't want him to love me less than he loved our child. I would want that love to be equal. Like it should be between all soul mates who become parents.
Now think of that and tell me that this woman hasn't lost everything worth living for. Regardless of her responsibility--and who but a psychotic could suddenly commit such atrocities on her own child?--she has already been punished more than most of us care to imagine.
Often, I'll have an idea of something I want to blog about that soon becomes too weighty, too depressing, or too whatever, and I'll ultimately decide against posting it here. Or I discover new information, change my opinion, or simply lose interest before I make it this far. That's been the case these past two weeks.
One thing that has been on my mind quite a bit (and probably others' as well) is the recent incident where a woman killed and cannibalized her baby.
Yeah...THIS is going to be a happy post. I can hear the signs now, and I'm sorry.
Just let me get this one out of the way.
This incident bothers me in ways that probably don't bother the majority of people responding in similar horror and disgust to this story. Whereas most people's horror and disgust is leveled at the mother, mine (so far) is not.
Don't think for a second that I'm denying the obvious crime, suffering, and tragedy that accompanies an act like this. Of course I'm not. But what so many people fail to acknowledge amidst their knee-jerk gasps and finger pointing is that there is a strong likelihood that the mother was suffering from schizophrenia when she committed this crime.
Now, I realize that no formal diagnosis has yet been made. Some of her relatives and acquaintances have said that she has been battling mental illness for a long time. Others have said that she may have a drug problem. I looked for further information before posting to see if she has undergone any psychiatric evaluations, but I have found nothing as of yet from our fickle media.
Her boyfriend of six years--who is himself a diagnosed schizophrenic--denies that she is mentally ill and has stated that he wants her to receive the death penalty and "hopes that she burns in hell" (his exact words) for killing "his" child.
Why is it that I feel more angry at him than I do at her?
Well, for one thing, does his own diagnosis automatically qualify him to make psychiatric evaluations of other people? Can he tell who is and who is not a schizophrenic because he happens to be one? To what degree can we even trust his judgments and perceptions?
At the risk of sounding incredibly insensitive, do people who live in glass psych wards have the right to throw stones?
Another thing: he is acting like he is the only parent in this situation who lost a child. This child had TWO parents, and if the one who killed this little boy did so because she was psychotic, then she is still a bereaved party underneath the burden of her illness. That's why I put the word "his" in quotations. This was her child too. Once she is under treatment (if indeed she is mentally ill), I have no doubt that she will grieve this baby at least as much as the father does. When rescue personnel arrived at the scene of the crime, she had already severely injured herself attempting suicide.
As far as the death penalty goes, I really don't understand why she was indicted for capital murder before undergoing a psychiatric evaluation. I'm no lawyer, but what happens if she is declared incompetent to stand trial? I guess she would be committed the same way she would if found not guilty by reason of insanity. I just would have expected the prosecution to wait for the results of an evaluation before formally pressing charges.
Which brings us to the long standing question of whether a mentally ill person is really responsible for his or her crimes. Did this woman murder her baby? Or did schizophrenia do it? How much can a person be separated, in terms of responsibility, from his or her psychosis? And what about sentencing--is committing a person intended to treat or to punish?
One story I read mentioned that women suffering from psychiatric disorders like schizophrenia are significantly more likely to suffer from postpartum depression and postpartum psychosis. It would only add to the tragedy if it turned out that this woman's underlying illness only became apparent after she finally "cracked" and committed this horrific deed.
Also, from what I read, there were signs that something was wrong long before the murder took place. And that suggests that this tragedy could have been prevented. Why wasn't it? Could it have anything to do with the woman's boyfriend and his battle with schizophrenia overshadowing her struggles?
It wouldn't be the first time that one partner's personal issues eclipsed the other person. To hear the boyfriend talk, it's all about him. It was HIS child. Taken away from HIM. HE wants her, whom he supposedly used to love, to burn in hell. I understand that when a person is killed, it is the survivors who suffer the anguish and the grief, and it is natural that they speak from the perspective of their own pain rather than the (already extinguished) pain of the dead. It just bothers me that he feels that he is the only victim here. There are three immediate victims--the baby and BOTH parents--and countless others who care for these people.
Maybe I should cut him a break for being schizophrenic as well as devastated, but he is waging emotional and verbal war against a woman who may be just as ill (and innocent) as he.
There is one more thing that really bothers me about this man. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit this, but I find it very upsetting how quickly and completely he abandoned his love for his child's mother.
Now, hold on a second. Before you scream at me "that's because she killed their kid, you idiot!", hear me out.
Imagine: you fall in love with someone, you form a romantic and personal partnership, and you stay with that person through six years. Not weeks or months. Years. That's more than a lot of marriages last these days. Your relationship weathers your own mental illness, and your partner sticks by you nonetheless. You have a child together. Then a horrific tragedy occurs.
I know. You're still thinking "yeah, the tragedy is that she killed their kid."
But this jerk is not even willing to consider the very likely possibility that she suffers from the same mental illness that he does. And if he did accept the possibility, I still suspect that he would despise her all the same. Because their child is dead and she is, however indirectly, the reason.
I guess what I'm getting at is this: why does all the love and empathy and support suddenly disappear when a child dies this way?
Whatever happened to "hate the sin but love the sinner"? Imagine if things were the other way around and the mother were murdered by her schizophrenic child? Something tells me that the father would not stop loving the child even as he grieved the loss of his wife/girlfriend. He would probably demand that the child be institutionalized where he or she could receive the proper treatment and be prevented from harming others. There may be a tremendous amount of anger and resentment. The father may not want to be around his child any more. But the love would survive, because the bond of family is that strong.
So why isn't it the same way between spouses and partners? Why should the love between parent and child run deeper and go further than the love between the parents of that child?
After all, it takes both parents to create a child. Shouldn't that shared creation strengthen a romantic partnership? I'm not talking about relationships and marriages that break down for reasons unrelated to the children. I'm talking about people who were truly in love and committed to one another before the child was lost. Like these two apparently were.
But what do I know?
For whatever reason, this guy decided that his child was more important to him than his child's mother. That's the bottom line. Never mind that they're both in the same psychiatric boat. That makes no difference to him. He cannot forgive her for their child's death. The child is worth more to him than she is. And I find that beyond sad.
One of the countless reasons that I do not want children of my own is the fear that my husband would love our child more than he loves me.
There, I've said it.
Call me petty, call me selfish, call me jealous and possessive. Maybe I am. But I can't help the way I feel, and I can't stand the idea that someone else could eclipse me in my husband's heart. I'm not saying that, if we had a child, I would want him to love me more. I just wouldn't want him to love me less than he loved our child. I would want that love to be equal. Like it should be between all soul mates who become parents.
Now think of that and tell me that this woman hasn't lost everything worth living for. Regardless of her responsibility--and who but a psychotic could suddenly commit such atrocities on her own child?--she has already been punished more than most of us care to imagine.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Well, I am an idiot...
Or at least I feel like one.
A (now-former) member at one of my favorite message boards played a terrible prank on the forum. The forum staff is still sorting the details out, but this member evidently created an alter ego on the forum who then reported that his "best friend" had committed suicide after a lengthy battle with depression.
It turns out that this member is very much alive and not at all who he claimed to be. He even posted a blog entry at his Deviant Art site stating that he is actually 13 instead of 30. The DA post also contained anti-Semitic remarks and claims that his grandfather was a concentration camp guard who personally executed and cremated prisoners.
Before the truth was known, I and several members of the forum posted our condolences regarding this member's "suicide." I stated that one of the things I admired about this person was the pride he took in his German heritage. My German heritage is extremely important to me, and I take strides to defend my ancestry against people who look down on Germany based solely on what happened during the Second World War.
Now it turns out that this member was as bogus as his suicide claim, and rather than waiting until his death had been verified, I blindly posted an emotional tribute referring to this person as a "kindred spirit" (ugh!) based on the pride he took in his heritage. Yes, I referred to a preteen skinhead as a kindred spirit. So in between the time the truth came out and the time that I erased my post, I not only made myself look like an idiot, but a Nazi idiot to boot.
Speaking of boots, I would like to bury mine in this jerk's backside and then kick myself in the head for falling for his cruel and asinine prank.
This will not happen again.
At the very least, I will not allow myself to be duped into publicly grieving someone until I know that their story is legitimate and have determined that they deserve compassion and remembrance. Compassion is too precious a commodity to be wasted on losers like this.
It will be a long time before I get over the shame of my gullibility and foolishly wasted words. I have failed. I'm not even sure that I want to remain a member of that particular forum. I love the site dearly, but I've made a complete idiot of myself there and I wouldn't blame the membership if they lost all respect for me.
Whatever I end up doing, I will be much more careful and guarded from now on. There are just too many trolls like this out there, and I don't plan on giving them any more opportunities and satisfaction.
That's all I have to say on the matter.
Except for one more thing: fuck him for making a mockery out of my German pride. Not all of us who love our Germanic heritage are Nazis, and I am tired of people whose nasty and thoughtless behavior continues to fuel that misconception.
A (now-former) member at one of my favorite message boards played a terrible prank on the forum. The forum staff is still sorting the details out, but this member evidently created an alter ego on the forum who then reported that his "best friend" had committed suicide after a lengthy battle with depression.
It turns out that this member is very much alive and not at all who he claimed to be. He even posted a blog entry at his Deviant Art site stating that he is actually 13 instead of 30. The DA post also contained anti-Semitic remarks and claims that his grandfather was a concentration camp guard who personally executed and cremated prisoners.
Before the truth was known, I and several members of the forum posted our condolences regarding this member's "suicide." I stated that one of the things I admired about this person was the pride he took in his German heritage. My German heritage is extremely important to me, and I take strides to defend my ancestry against people who look down on Germany based solely on what happened during the Second World War.
Now it turns out that this member was as bogus as his suicide claim, and rather than waiting until his death had been verified, I blindly posted an emotional tribute referring to this person as a "kindred spirit" (ugh!) based on the pride he took in his heritage. Yes, I referred to a preteen skinhead as a kindred spirit. So in between the time the truth came out and the time that I erased my post, I not only made myself look like an idiot, but a Nazi idiot to boot.
Speaking of boots, I would like to bury mine in this jerk's backside and then kick myself in the head for falling for his cruel and asinine prank.
This will not happen again.
At the very least, I will not allow myself to be duped into publicly grieving someone until I know that their story is legitimate and have determined that they deserve compassion and remembrance. Compassion is too precious a commodity to be wasted on losers like this.
It will be a long time before I get over the shame of my gullibility and foolishly wasted words. I have failed. I'm not even sure that I want to remain a member of that particular forum. I love the site dearly, but I've made a complete idiot of myself there and I wouldn't blame the membership if they lost all respect for me.
Whatever I end up doing, I will be much more careful and guarded from now on. There are just too many trolls like this out there, and I don't plan on giving them any more opportunities and satisfaction.
That's all I have to say on the matter.
Except for one more thing: fuck him for making a mockery out of my German pride. Not all of us who love our Germanic heritage are Nazis, and I am tired of people whose nasty and thoughtless behavior continues to fuel that misconception.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Last thought for the evening
This afternoon, we're going over to my in-laws' for a double birthday party. J's sister-in-law, her husband, and their kids will be there.
Please, please, PLEASE let them be over the swine flu by now. Please.
Please, please, PLEASE let them be over the swine flu by now. Please.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Stupidity: the sequel!
J's batshit ex called today to "make sure that the boys would be home by six o'clock tonight."
When reminded that we are bringing them back from on Sunday because this was supposed to be our weekend anyway (according to the every-other-weekend policy) and because our six weeks of summer have always begun and ended on Sundays, she would not listen. Because that's just what she does. Not listen. And not get anything through her head.
No, she is not mentally challenged in the clinical sense. Yes, she is unintelligent, but moreover she is stubborn and hateful and enjoys making J's life hell, and she does not care that she makes the kids' lives hell in the process.
Then, when J and the boys stood their ground and assured her that they would be home Sunday as usual, she informed them that she is going to call the police unless he brings them home right away. I kid you not, the police. Just like she called the sheriff yesterday morning because the boys didn't call her on her new number that she never gave them.
So the boys reiterated that we live four hours away from her and only have our motorcycle + sidecar at the moment (our main vehicle is currently awaiting an organ transplant). No matter. She still insisted that they drive all the way down there in the motorcycle. Yes. In the open-air hundred degree heat and afternoon thunderstorms. With no room for all the boys' possessions and their dog that they brought along.
This was J's reply:
Just kidding, unfortunately. His actual reply was, "the boys will be there no later than six p.m. on SUNDAY. *click*"
Now we wait to see if the cops show up between now and then.
Never a dull moment, I guess.
When reminded that we are bringing them back from on Sunday because this was supposed to be our weekend anyway (according to the every-other-weekend policy) and because our six weeks of summer have always begun and ended on Sundays, she would not listen. Because that's just what she does. Not listen. And not get anything through her head.
No, she is not mentally challenged in the clinical sense. Yes, she is unintelligent, but moreover she is stubborn and hateful and enjoys making J's life hell, and she does not care that she makes the kids' lives hell in the process.
Then, when J and the boys stood their ground and assured her that they would be home Sunday as usual, she informed them that she is going to call the police unless he brings them home right away. I kid you not, the police. Just like she called the sheriff yesterday morning because the boys didn't call her on her new number that she never gave them.
So the boys reiterated that we live four hours away from her and only have our motorcycle + sidecar at the moment (our main vehicle is currently awaiting an organ transplant). No matter. She still insisted that they drive all the way down there in the motorcycle. Yes. In the open-air hundred degree heat and afternoon thunderstorms. With no room for all the boys' possessions and their dog that they brought along.
This was J's reply:
Just kidding, unfortunately. His actual reply was, "the boys will be there no later than six p.m. on SUNDAY. *click*"
Now we wait to see if the cops show up between now and then.
Never a dull moment, I guess.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The saga of stupidity continues
This is actually kind of funny.
We were all asleep this morning (except for my husband, who had JUST gotten up several minutes before) when, out of nowhere, our dogs started going apeshit. I assumed that someone was jogging down the street or something, since it doesn't take much to set the dogs off.
Not a jogger, it turns out. It was a sheriff's deputy.
Flash back to this past week...my stepkids had been trying to get a hold of their mom on the phone, to no avail. It went straight to her voice mail each time. She does not use a land line, and she is notorious for running out of Nextel minutes because she can't budget worth a damn and makes buying cigarettes her top priority. It was our youngest's birthday on Tuesday, and we were surprised that she was not picking up the phone that day, since she made a big to-do out of how she HAS to talk to him on his birthday (even though he couldn't care less about hearing from her). They tried calling up until last night. Nothing.
Then the deputy paid us a visit. It turns out that Brain Donor had called the sheriff's department claiming that she had not heard from the boys since they visited her for the 4th and she was "worried." The boys came out and explained that they have been calling several times a day and that she wasn't answering.
Wanna know why?
She changed her cell number last week. And she never gave us or the boys her new number.
Oh, it gets even better (or worse). She STILL does not understand that this is the reason the boys could not reach her. Seriously! She cannot put two and two together. The boys called her at her new number, and our youngest chewed her a new one. He told her over and over and over that the ONLY reason they couldn't reach her was that SHE had not told them about the new number. And yet she still blames their father and me for this, claiming that we willfully denied the boys the chance to call her. After her own kids explained otherwise in the simplest of English.
What? The? Fuck???
Stupid and mean are such an ugly combination.
At least the absurdity borders on humor this time. For instance, after S finished ranting about her calling the sheriff, his mother asked him "doesn't it make you HAPPY that I was so worried about you?" Huh? Happy?! Or, as S so aptly put it (before hanging up on her), "whatever."
We were all asleep this morning (except for my husband, who had JUST gotten up several minutes before) when, out of nowhere, our dogs started going apeshit. I assumed that someone was jogging down the street or something, since it doesn't take much to set the dogs off.
Not a jogger, it turns out. It was a sheriff's deputy.
Flash back to this past week...my stepkids had been trying to get a hold of their mom on the phone, to no avail. It went straight to her voice mail each time. She does not use a land line, and she is notorious for running out of Nextel minutes because she can't budget worth a damn and makes buying cigarettes her top priority. It was our youngest's birthday on Tuesday, and we were surprised that she was not picking up the phone that day, since she made a big to-do out of how she HAS to talk to him on his birthday (even though he couldn't care less about hearing from her). They tried calling up until last night. Nothing.
Then the deputy paid us a visit. It turns out that Brain Donor had called the sheriff's department claiming that she had not heard from the boys since they visited her for the 4th and she was "worried." The boys came out and explained that they have been calling several times a day and that she wasn't answering.
Wanna know why?
She changed her cell number last week. And she never gave us or the boys her new number.
Oh, it gets even better (or worse). She STILL does not understand that this is the reason the boys could not reach her. Seriously! She cannot put two and two together. The boys called her at her new number, and our youngest chewed her a new one. He told her over and over and over that the ONLY reason they couldn't reach her was that SHE had not told them about the new number. And yet she still blames their father and me for this, claiming that we willfully denied the boys the chance to call her. After her own kids explained otherwise in the simplest of English.
What? The? Fuck???
Stupid and mean are such an ugly combination.
At least the absurdity borders on humor this time. For instance, after S finished ranting about her calling the sheriff, his mother asked him "doesn't it make you HAPPY that I was so worried about you?" Huh? Happy?! Or, as S so aptly put it (before hanging up on her), "whatever."
Sunday, July 12, 2009
The new novel is already taking form
I have a basic storyline now (and this is still prior to any formal note taking). The premise is a blend of historical fiction and social commentary explored in the context of a murder mystery. If this were a movie--and I almost always envision my writing as a film unfolding in my mind--it might be described as "Merchant Ivory meets Alfred Hitchcock."
The year is 1921. The setting is Australia.
And those are about as many plot details as I'm ready to divulge at the moment.
I've also figured out how to work in the feminism angle, for the most part, and I'm fairly certain that I'm going to write in a first person voice using the epistolary form (the main character chronicles her experiences and perspectives in a journal). My previous novel was written in the third person limited. Now I'm excited about using the epistolary form because I can tell the story as it unfolds within the main character's mind: her emotions, her reactions, her speculations, and her secrets. Diary narratives are also handy because you can get away with "telling, not showing" rather than the other way around.
Breaking literary rules can be so much fun, especially when the story works better that way. This is a mystery, after all. It's difficult to show that which remains largely concealed.
The year is 1921. The setting is Australia.
And those are about as many plot details as I'm ready to divulge at the moment.
I've also figured out how to work in the feminism angle, for the most part, and I'm fairly certain that I'm going to write in a first person voice using the epistolary form (the main character chronicles her experiences and perspectives in a journal). My previous novel was written in the third person limited. Now I'm excited about using the epistolary form because I can tell the story as it unfolds within the main character's mind: her emotions, her reactions, her speculations, and her secrets. Diary narratives are also handy because you can get away with "telling, not showing" rather than the other way around.
Breaking literary rules can be so much fun, especially when the story works better that way. This is a mystery, after all. It's difficult to show that which remains largely concealed.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
I have a new writing idea
It came to me in a dream last night.
(Don't groan at the lameness of that. It's really not a bad place to get ideas.)
However, it's still just an idea--an idea even less defined than all the other writing ideas that seemed promising but never came to fruition. The problem with those was that they came to me while I was in the middle of an existing project, and by the time I had finished writing, my interest in the newer idea had dwindled.
But I finished writing my latest novel several months ago, and I'm trying to decide where I want to go from here.
The scenario that came to me in last night's dream is, like my previous book, historical fiction. When I woke up, I had a time period, a setting, two principal characters, a central event, some semblance of a genre, and a vague sense of some of the "issues" that I want the piece to explore. This premise has quite a few themes in common with my previous novel. I'm not sure whether those themes went into the dream or whether I worked them in afterward, but that doesn't matter. I enjoy exploring variations on the same theme.
So it all sounds pretty substantial, right? The problem is, this project would involve at least twice the historical research that the last book required (lots of time and money invested in lengthy, complex, and sometimes out-of-print tomes). For originality's sake, I prefer to write about more obscure bits of history, and this is the price I pay.
Nonetheless, I would like to venture ahead. Once the boys' vacation is over and my husband and I have a bit more time to ourselves, I'm going to ask for his input. His help was invaluable to my last novel even though I pretty much had it written in my head. This time, I need someone well-read in the history of this period (and he certainly qualifies) to bounce ideas and questions off of. As personally invested and stubborn I can be when it comes to my writing, I recognize that the writer is not the only person involved in the novel. I am writing this to be read, appreciated, and enjoyed--by other people. I don't think that asking for his collaboration makes it any less "my" book. He is, after all, the only person who knows me as well as I know myself.
Whatever comes of my new idea, I'm excited. I think I had this dream for a reason, and I'm going to try to make the most of my inspiration.
(Don't groan at the lameness of that. It's really not a bad place to get ideas.)
However, it's still just an idea--an idea even less defined than all the other writing ideas that seemed promising but never came to fruition. The problem with those was that they came to me while I was in the middle of an existing project, and by the time I had finished writing, my interest in the newer idea had dwindled.
But I finished writing my latest novel several months ago, and I'm trying to decide where I want to go from here.
The scenario that came to me in last night's dream is, like my previous book, historical fiction. When I woke up, I had a time period, a setting, two principal characters, a central event, some semblance of a genre, and a vague sense of some of the "issues" that I want the piece to explore. This premise has quite a few themes in common with my previous novel. I'm not sure whether those themes went into the dream or whether I worked them in afterward, but that doesn't matter. I enjoy exploring variations on the same theme.
So it all sounds pretty substantial, right? The problem is, this project would involve at least twice the historical research that the last book required (lots of time and money invested in lengthy, complex, and sometimes out-of-print tomes). For originality's sake, I prefer to write about more obscure bits of history, and this is the price I pay.
Nonetheless, I would like to venture ahead. Once the boys' vacation is over and my husband and I have a bit more time to ourselves, I'm going to ask for his input. His help was invaluable to my last novel even though I pretty much had it written in my head. This time, I need someone well-read in the history of this period (and he certainly qualifies) to bounce ideas and questions off of. As personally invested and stubborn I can be when it comes to my writing, I recognize that the writer is not the only person involved in the novel. I am writing this to be read, appreciated, and enjoyed--by other people. I don't think that asking for his collaboration makes it any less "my" book. He is, after all, the only person who knows me as well as I know myself.
Whatever comes of my new idea, I'm excited. I think I had this dream for a reason, and I'm going to try to make the most of my inspiration.
Wish of the day
I really wish that hearing was something that one could turn on and off. I realize that people who wear hearing aids can sort of do this (take the thing out whenever they want, thus leaving themselves less able to hear), but that's not quite what I mean. I want to keep my hearing--all of it--and just be able to switch it off completely whenever I need total silence. Which would be quite often.
In the meantime, I wish I could sleep like the dead. Unless I'm utterly exhausted after several days' worth of missed sleep (cross-country Amtrak trip, for instance), I'm such a light sleeper that my dog sneezing in the next room will wake me up. I'm almost never properly rested, and I know this is part of the reason.
In the meantime, I wish I could sleep like the dead. Unless I'm utterly exhausted after several days' worth of missed sleep (cross-country Amtrak trip, for instance), I'm such a light sleeper that my dog sneezing in the next room will wake me up. I'm almost never properly rested, and I know this is part of the reason.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Lucky Thirteen
My younger stepson (S) is going to be thirteen next week. But you wouldn't know it...at least when he acts the way he did this evening.
The four of us set aside some time to play video games together before my husband (J) had to turn in for the night. S wanted to play a two-person racing game with his dad. After a demonstration, J explained that this did not seem like a game that he would enjoy and encouraged S to put in a game that the four of us already enjoy. This was when S got angry and threw the controller across the room.
His dad gave him a chewing out that made no difference. S continued playing on his own, sulking now, and he ignored every suggestion and question that his dad and older brother addressed to him. I was keeping my mouth shut this whole time for reasons I will explain shortly. J repeated a particular question five or six times before insisting that S answer him. S gave him a snide answer and then threw the other controller across the room. That was when J announced that he was going to bed.
I followed J into the bedroom and closed the door. I suggested that we make a new rule next week when S turns thirteen: now that he's a teenager and no longer a little boy, there is to be no more whining, pouting, or tantrum throwing under any circumstances. J explained that he didn't think that was a fair plan because our older stepson (almost 16!) still has his whiny tantrum episodes too.
Basically, we find ourselves with a behavior dilemma that we can't do anything about. J is not willing to crack down on the boys to the extent that I would suggest. He makes a very legitimate point that the boys have a terrible example set by their biological mother. But I can't tell if he's implying that their situation with her excuses their immature and obnoxious behavior around us. Personally, I don't think that anything should excuse them being brats, especially at their ages. They're more than welcome to behave this way around her (and believe me, they do!), but I just wish J would be more firm when it comes to enforcing the no-brattiness policy.
Bottom line: they are too old to be acting like this. Granted, they were held back in school (thanks to the damn FCAT), so it makes sense that they still act like kids rather than miniature adults like most teens. But the brattiness should have been left behind years ago. And the fact that their mother is a complete bitch only makes me believe that we should enforce respectful and mature behavior even harder.
Now, I did not say or do anything this time because a) I have resolved to guard against overreacting, which I have always been prone to, and b) it wouldn't have done a bit of good anyway. I'm not sure that anything short of a drill sergeant screaming orders would snap them out of these bratty spells and make them realize that "hey, the way I'm acting is totally unacceptable and I need to stop it right now!" Even on the rare occasions when their dad raises his voice, I never see their eyes widen in response or notice the glimmer of humility that comes when you push someone past the brink and they make sure you know it. That's what I got when I acted this way as a child. If I threw an expensive toy across the room, I could be damn certain that my dad would be there to verbally detonate right in my face and immediately make me sorry that I had even thought of misbehaving. And it worked. It probably worked too well.
I don't particularly agree with this approach. But it's tempting, not just because I grew up with explosive anger as my example but because I have no patience for this kind of disrespect coming from a child. "Who do they think they are?" is the question seething in the back of my mind when they behave this way. And the question lurking just behind that is "why should you be allowed to get away with talking to your parents in a way that I was never allowed to?"
It's true that, in some ways, we become our parents even when we swore that we would never subject our children to the same treatment. But I think that part of this reaction stems from a kind of envy over the idea that some children were spared this level of discipline and were afforded behavioral freedoms that I never was. And so it seems doubly unfair. I don't want our kids to be raised the way I was and yet, at the same time, it's so frustrating that I can't be the one to yell when I spent so much time being yelled at.
So where was I? Oh yes: turning thirteen. And acting like a spoiled little kid. And my hands being tied because the boys' dad doesn't want to crack down on them the way I think he should. So now our youngest will officially enter teendom without any further encouragement to be more respectful and more responsible, and we'll have to continue putting up with this behavior every time he doesn't get his way.
J says that we just need to keep reminding him. But maybe the problem is that we aren't reminding him enough to begin with.
I believe this is called an impasse.
But enough for tonight. It's out of my system for now, and that's better than nothing.
The four of us set aside some time to play video games together before my husband (J) had to turn in for the night. S wanted to play a two-person racing game with his dad. After a demonstration, J explained that this did not seem like a game that he would enjoy and encouraged S to put in a game that the four of us already enjoy. This was when S got angry and threw the controller across the room.
His dad gave him a chewing out that made no difference. S continued playing on his own, sulking now, and he ignored every suggestion and question that his dad and older brother addressed to him. I was keeping my mouth shut this whole time for reasons I will explain shortly. J repeated a particular question five or six times before insisting that S answer him. S gave him a snide answer and then threw the other controller across the room. That was when J announced that he was going to bed.
I followed J into the bedroom and closed the door. I suggested that we make a new rule next week when S turns thirteen: now that he's a teenager and no longer a little boy, there is to be no more whining, pouting, or tantrum throwing under any circumstances. J explained that he didn't think that was a fair plan because our older stepson (almost 16!) still has his whiny tantrum episodes too.
Basically, we find ourselves with a behavior dilemma that we can't do anything about. J is not willing to crack down on the boys to the extent that I would suggest. He makes a very legitimate point that the boys have a terrible example set by their biological mother. But I can't tell if he's implying that their situation with her excuses their immature and obnoxious behavior around us. Personally, I don't think that anything should excuse them being brats, especially at their ages. They're more than welcome to behave this way around her (and believe me, they do!), but I just wish J would be more firm when it comes to enforcing the no-brattiness policy.
Bottom line: they are too old to be acting like this. Granted, they were held back in school (thanks to the damn FCAT), so it makes sense that they still act like kids rather than miniature adults like most teens. But the brattiness should have been left behind years ago. And the fact that their mother is a complete bitch only makes me believe that we should enforce respectful and mature behavior even harder.
Now, I did not say or do anything this time because a) I have resolved to guard against overreacting, which I have always been prone to, and b) it wouldn't have done a bit of good anyway. I'm not sure that anything short of a drill sergeant screaming orders would snap them out of these bratty spells and make them realize that "hey, the way I'm acting is totally unacceptable and I need to stop it right now!" Even on the rare occasions when their dad raises his voice, I never see their eyes widen in response or notice the glimmer of humility that comes when you push someone past the brink and they make sure you know it. That's what I got when I acted this way as a child. If I threw an expensive toy across the room, I could be damn certain that my dad would be there to verbally detonate right in my face and immediately make me sorry that I had even thought of misbehaving. And it worked. It probably worked too well.
I don't particularly agree with this approach. But it's tempting, not just because I grew up with explosive anger as my example but because I have no patience for this kind of disrespect coming from a child. "Who do they think they are?" is the question seething in the back of my mind when they behave this way. And the question lurking just behind that is "why should you be allowed to get away with talking to your parents in a way that I was never allowed to?"
It's true that, in some ways, we become our parents even when we swore that we would never subject our children to the same treatment. But I think that part of this reaction stems from a kind of envy over the idea that some children were spared this level of discipline and were afforded behavioral freedoms that I never was. And so it seems doubly unfair. I don't want our kids to be raised the way I was and yet, at the same time, it's so frustrating that I can't be the one to yell when I spent so much time being yelled at.
So where was I? Oh yes: turning thirteen. And acting like a spoiled little kid. And my hands being tied because the boys' dad doesn't want to crack down on them the way I think he should. So now our youngest will officially enter teendom without any further encouragement to be more respectful and more responsible, and we'll have to continue putting up with this behavior every time he doesn't get his way.
J says that we just need to keep reminding him. But maybe the problem is that we aren't reminding him enough to begin with.
I believe this is called an impasse.
But enough for tonight. It's out of my system for now, and that's better than nothing.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Lower than low
My stepsons (ages 15 and 12) recently revealed that their biological mom has been stealing money from them. They've learned the hard way to keep their wallets on them at all times, so now she asks them to loan her money and does not take no for an answer.
Does she pay them back?
You guessed it.
The boys live with their mom. Our visitation schedule includes a large chunk of their summer break. We still have to pay child support during these extended visits, which makes no sense because she is not the one having to feed, clothe, shelter, and entertain these kids during the summer. Now, we wouldn't mind so much if she saved the extra support money or spent it on something special for the kids. Heck, even stocking up on extra groceries would be practical.
Did she do any of the above?
You guessed it again.
The boys spent this past weekend with her and then came back to us (we have them for two more weeks). While they were there, the younger gave his mom five dollars...big mistake...and asked her to buy him a soda and bring him back the change. She came back from the convenience store a short time later with a pack of cigarettes, no change, and no soda.
She didn't even try to make excuses. It's like she assumes, at this point, that she has the right to rob her own teenage children simply because she's their mother. This is a woman whose budgeting skills are so abysmal that she barely keeps her utilities paid even though the kids are supported by their father and she lives in a Habitat for Humanity home with almost no rent. On top of the child support payments (which we know from experience are more than enough to keep the boys clothed and cared for), we keep having to buy them new shoes because theirs wear out and she claims not to have the money to replace them. And yet the woman has never run out of cigarettes in her life...or her favorite snack foods, or whatever brand new DVD she sets her eye on.
It just floors me. Some people seem to find this amusing (the part about her "borrowing" money from her kids to buy cigs and then stiffing them on the repayment). Call me overly sensitive or humorless, but in my opinion, taking a child's hard-earned money and buying something for yourself instead of what he asked for is lower than low. So is stealing right out of your child's wallet. My parents occasionally had to borrow money from me when I was a kid. I'm sure this is true of a lot of children. But mine always paid me back within the week. I may have been a child lending out my allowance money, but they still had enough humanity and respect for me not to steal. They also had budgeting skills and basic scruples, but still. I think I've made my point.
As for the boys, they now have to choose between relinquishing their money to this lazy tyrant of a mother or dealing with the penalty (grounding, nagging, and who knows what else) that comes with refusing to give her another cent. That's not how parents are supposed to treat their children. Come to think of it, it's not even acceptable to treat adult relatives and friends this way. And all this to ensure a neverending supply of cigarettes. I understand that smoking is addictive, but this is crossing the line all the same.
Does she pay them back?
You guessed it.
The boys live with their mom. Our visitation schedule includes a large chunk of their summer break. We still have to pay child support during these extended visits, which makes no sense because she is not the one having to feed, clothe, shelter, and entertain these kids during the summer. Now, we wouldn't mind so much if she saved the extra support money or spent it on something special for the kids. Heck, even stocking up on extra groceries would be practical.
Did she do any of the above?
You guessed it again.
The boys spent this past weekend with her and then came back to us (we have them for two more weeks). While they were there, the younger gave his mom five dollars...big mistake...and asked her to buy him a soda and bring him back the change. She came back from the convenience store a short time later with a pack of cigarettes, no change, and no soda.
She didn't even try to make excuses. It's like she assumes, at this point, that she has the right to rob her own teenage children simply because she's their mother. This is a woman whose budgeting skills are so abysmal that she barely keeps her utilities paid even though the kids are supported by their father and she lives in a Habitat for Humanity home with almost no rent. On top of the child support payments (which we know from experience are more than enough to keep the boys clothed and cared for), we keep having to buy them new shoes because theirs wear out and she claims not to have the money to replace them. And yet the woman has never run out of cigarettes in her life...or her favorite snack foods, or whatever brand new DVD she sets her eye on.
It just floors me. Some people seem to find this amusing (the part about her "borrowing" money from her kids to buy cigs and then stiffing them on the repayment). Call me overly sensitive or humorless, but in my opinion, taking a child's hard-earned money and buying something for yourself instead of what he asked for is lower than low. So is stealing right out of your child's wallet. My parents occasionally had to borrow money from me when I was a kid. I'm sure this is true of a lot of children. But mine always paid me back within the week. I may have been a child lending out my allowance money, but they still had enough humanity and respect for me not to steal. They also had budgeting skills and basic scruples, but still. I think I've made my point.
As for the boys, they now have to choose between relinquishing their money to this lazy tyrant of a mother or dealing with the penalty (grounding, nagging, and who knows what else) that comes with refusing to give her another cent. That's not how parents are supposed to treat their children. Come to think of it, it's not even acceptable to treat adult relatives and friends this way. And all this to ensure a neverending supply of cigarettes. I understand that smoking is addictive, but this is crossing the line all the same.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Girl crush time!
Just found this girl's blog, and WOW! She's beautiful and unique, she loves abandoned buildings, and damn, can she dress. I'm loving what I see. And quite envious too.
Finding the perfect weakness (and other contradictions)
"What are some of your weaknesses?"
This is another job interview question to which a completely honest answer would bar me from employment...probably forever.
This is a really confounding question because you have to figure out which response makes you seem human, but not too human. I'm told that the ideal response involves some extremely common and minor "weakness" that you turned into a valuable learning experience. For instance: "I used to be really afraid of speaking in front of crowds until I had to make a speech in front of the school's budgetary committee so that our magazine would have sufficient funding for the upcoming issue. The urgency of the situation and my successful appeal really helped to bolster my confidence in both professional and public settings." In other words, an ex-weakness. An ex-weakness that gave you some skill that you can use in the job you're trying to win.
(And yes, I plan to use the above example. So don't just steal it word for word, okay?)
Now, I don't know if employers recognize that applicants are all flawed human beings with a plethora of less-than-godly traits that they have not yet overcome and/or learned business skills from. If they do, are they trying to determine how well we hide our actual weaknesses and keep them from hampering our performance at work? Do we ever get points for honesty? I mean, doesn't a statement like "I would have loved to have seized that lecherous manager by the arm and fed each of his fingers into an electric pencil sharpener until he apologized for harassing everybody in the office, but I never did!" show an enormous amount of self-control and an admirable sense of priority? I think so. I think it reveals many positive things about the applicant's character. Positive things that far outweigh the so-called weakness of secretly wanting to mutilate a sleazoid co-worker.
Which raises an important point: what if weaknesses are just the flip side of strengths? Or, at the very least, what if examining our weaknesses helped to remind us of our strengths rather than our seeming lack thereof?
I'm thinking of compiling a brutally comprehensive list of my weaknesses. In fact, I don't think I can get a real sense of my strengths until I take a huge emotional shit* and get all of the festering nasty stuff out of there first. And then see if everything's really as unpleasant as it seems.
*Coming soon!
This is another job interview question to which a completely honest answer would bar me from employment...probably forever.
This is a really confounding question because you have to figure out which response makes you seem human, but not too human. I'm told that the ideal response involves some extremely common and minor "weakness" that you turned into a valuable learning experience. For instance: "I used to be really afraid of speaking in front of crowds until I had to make a speech in front of the school's budgetary committee so that our magazine would have sufficient funding for the upcoming issue. The urgency of the situation and my successful appeal really helped to bolster my confidence in both professional and public settings." In other words, an ex-weakness. An ex-weakness that gave you some skill that you can use in the job you're trying to win.
(And yes, I plan to use the above example. So don't just steal it word for word, okay?)
Now, I don't know if employers recognize that applicants are all flawed human beings with a plethora of less-than-godly traits that they have not yet overcome and/or learned business skills from. If they do, are they trying to determine how well we hide our actual weaknesses and keep them from hampering our performance at work? Do we ever get points for honesty? I mean, doesn't a statement like "I would have loved to have seized that lecherous manager by the arm and fed each of his fingers into an electric pencil sharpener until he apologized for harassing everybody in the office, but I never did!" show an enormous amount of self-control and an admirable sense of priority? I think so. I think it reveals many positive things about the applicant's character. Positive things that far outweigh the so-called weakness of secretly wanting to mutilate a sleazoid co-worker.
Which raises an important point: what if weaknesses are just the flip side of strengths? Or, at the very least, what if examining our weaknesses helped to remind us of our strengths rather than our seeming lack thereof?
I'm thinking of compiling a brutally comprehensive list of my weaknesses. In fact, I don't think I can get a real sense of my strengths until I take a huge emotional shit* and get all of the festering nasty stuff out of there first. And then see if everything's really as unpleasant as it seems.
*Coming soon!
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