Poor Treatment of Veterans

Poor Treatment of Veterans

Last week, I wrote about Time Management and the sense of responsibility that people should feel when they are expected to do something or be somewhere at a certain time. I could very well write a whole other blog entry about responsibility, especially after this past week, but instead I am going to continue discussing the matter of my father’s caretakers. Last week, Home Instead took three hours to replace Saturday’s caretaker. Meanwhile, because I had promised my son that I would take him to see Black Panther, my daughter Lauren had to watch him for those three hours and she does not feel the same sense of duty to actually take care of him that caretakers do. This week, they sent a brand new, young, inexperienced caretaker.

I am not sure what happened to his regular Saturday caretaker whom he has had for a very long time, but now he is yet again faced with having a new caretaker and I am once again faced with having to train a new caretaker. If places like Home Instead cared about their clients, they would not put them through this frustration. Yet, here we are. I have to explain to yet another person how particular and difficult my father is and that even though she considers his water cup to be full, to fill it anyway without arguing with him that it is already full. This was his chief complaint to everyone who stepped foot in the house from that moment forward. Places like Home Instead give preferential treatment to customers who are paying out of pocket for their services. Veterans like my father, whose services are largely paid by the Veteran’s Administration, are treated like second-class consumers, almost like the difference between flying first class and flying coach. In my opinion, they should be treated the same, not different.

A few years ago, my father was hospitalized at the VA Hospital before being moved to another facility to rehabilitate. I noticed several things about this VA Hospital. First, the parking sucks. There is inadequate parking available for the number of visitors who come to this hospital. There is inadequate handicapped parking considering that this is a hospital which services veterans, who might likely also be disabled. There are stairs, curbs, hills and uneven ground leading up to the hospital which make it difficult for disabled and elderly patrons and visitors to navigate. On one occasion, my mother (now deceased) fell and got hurt trying to get back to my car after visiting her husband. They are severely understaffed, which means that visitors like myself who are lost and don’t know where to go can’t find anyone to help them and persons who are in the hospital often have long waits before their needs are met. The bathroom was disgusting. Veterans should not be treated like this when they need help.

Several years ago, I worked as a volunteer for a non-profit organization which helped veterans, disabled and elderly people. It was then that I began to see the ways in which veterans, disabled, and elderly persons are mistreated and often taken advantage of. Not much has changed. I still see multiple ways in which society as a whole, and individual business could improve the way in which they serve customers who are elderly or disabled. For example, the Bank of America branch that my father frequents has its handicapped entrance on the other side of the bank from where the parking lot is. Meanwhile, the entrance nearest the parking lot has stairs leading into the bank. On what planet does this even make sense? Why should someone have to travel that distance just to enter the bank?

We need to do better. Veterans served in our military. They fought for our country and for the freedom of people they have never even met. They sacrificed time with their families in order to fight for our country and some of them made the ultimate sacrifice. They sacrificed their sanity and their well-being to serve. We may not always agree with what they are fighting for, or who they are fighting against, but we have to keep a few things in mind about them nonetheless. I too am a conscientious objector. I don’t like that war is sometimes a necessary evil. However, it is exactly that sometimes; a necessary evil. Some of these veterans fought in wars that were truly part of our American history and without their contribution, we would not have the freedoms we have today. Others served because they believed it was the right thing to do. Perhaps their parents or families have served and they wanted to be part of that tradition. Perhaps they were trying to get money for school. Perhaps they were just trying to figure out their place in the world. It is really not up to us to determine the morality or ethics of their choice. Their choice cost them time with their friends and family. Sometimes their choice costs them their health and sanity. Other times, it costs them their lives. Veterans exhibit bravery and with the exception of a few, honor. They deserve some respect, not verbal tirades from misinformed and opinionated teachers who feel that the belittling of a student is above the education of that same student. They deserve respect, not impossible red tape, diminished benefits, and terrible treatment by VA hospitals and caretaker agencies. They deserve better.

Time and Responsibility

Time and Responsibility

In past blog entries, I have written about the various obstacles I have faced in taking care of my elderly parents and the various incidents involving caretakers. Today is yet another example of the types of bullshit I have had to contend with in taking care of my father. His caretaker was supposed to arrive at 2 p.m. She called in last minute and it took the company, Home Instead, three hours to find a replacement. Unfortunately, I had promised my son that I would take him to see Black Panther. My daughter took care of my dad for three hours while she waited for Home Instead to provide a caretaker. While my daughter loves the money she gets for doing this, families should not be placed in this position. Calling in at the last minute is irresponsible. Not providing a replacement caretaker in a timely manner to an elderly patient is irresponsible. This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened with this company or with their employees. I have had numerous conversations with this company regarding their incompetence, their failure to provide caretakers in a timely fashion, and the tardiness of their employees. The caretakers they send on the weekends are always late. We have had caretakers from this company who have shown up to work hungover, on drugs and starting fights with other caretakers, or who have failed to show up or call in at all, leaving my father without a caretaker. If it were up to me (and not my brother), I would have already replaced Home Instead with another company.

At the movie theatre, there were several patrons who came in late, cell phones blaring with flashlights, looking for a seat. This happens every single time I go to the movies. This causes patrons who were on time to have deal with these Johnny Come Latelys being in their way, blocking the screen, blinding them with their flashlights and forces them to have to move from their comfortable position to let these people pass to get to a seat. If you have a cell phone with a flashlight, undoubtedly you probably also have the Fandango app or access to it, or perhaps you simply looked up the movie times on the Internet. You know what time the movie starts! If that time doesn’t work for you, come to a later showing.

I have noticed also, that when I go to my hair salon to get my hair done, that the stylists often have clients who are late to their appointments, cancel last minute or never show up at all. I was once late to an appointment because I was stuck in traffic, but when I realized I was going to be late, I called the salon to let them know that I was stuck in traffic. I asked my stylist once how many of their clients were like me and tried to be on time to their appointments and she answered approximately 15%. 15%! That is ridiculous! Why do their clients not understand that their time is valuable too? They have other clients they need to see, or else they denied another client an appointment at that time because they were supposed to see the client who doesn’t value their time.

At my last job, several employees were routinely late. Nothing was ever said to them. In fact, it seems like the company preferred those employees that were routinely late and lazy as a Sunday over employees who actually arrived on time and worked. This seems to have become an acceptable trend these days. Everywhere I look, there are far more instances of people being late to something than people being on time and we just accept it. When did being fashionably late to a party become something that became acceptable for everything?

There are times when being late is unavoidable. Sometimes traffic causes you to be late. Sometimes other circumstances completely beyond your control cause you to be late. But there used to be a time when if that was the case, responsible people would call in advance to let people know. If you showed up late somewhere, you apologized for your tardiness and set to work doing whatever it was you were supposed to be doing because you have already inconvenienced the person enough. Persistent tardiness either lowered your grade (if in school) or was cause for termination (if at work). Now we just accept it. Ironic for a society that is always seeking to have faster Internet, faster food, faster cars, etc. In a world where everything is faster, why the hell are we so fucking slow?

Written: 02/24/18

It’s 2018; Why are ‘Spinster’ and ‘Single’ Still Bad Words?

It’s 2018; Why are ‘Spinster’ and ‘Single’ Still Bad Words?

My mother fled her ex-husband when my older half-brother was a baby and moved to California. Her ex-husband was abusive and based on a recent conversation I had with his granddaughter, is still just as deplorable now as he was over 50 years ago. Unfortunately, she would flee the skillet only to land in the frying pan. As things often go with women who find themselves in abusive relationships, my mother found herself in yet another abusive marriage to my father. She would never escape. She put up with over forty years of my father’s berating, controlling, lying, jealousy and infidelity and never once said a word, except to her best friend. She even had to endure my father’s ex-wife being in the picture at times. She remained because she felt it was in the best interest of her children and she never let on what was going on. My other older brother still seems to not know the truth about our parents.

Like my mother and my grandmother, I followed in the tradition of marrying an abusive man. My ex-husband was berating, controlling, jealous and still does not have a grasp on truth. I remained married to him for fourteen years, not only because we had three children, but also because I was convinced that I could not live without him. Probably the worst thing he could have ever done was leave me to my own devices for nine months back in 2012 because he showed me that I could indeed live without him and that I was better off. I spent nearly two years single before I dated again and when I did finally date again, I again made a bad choice. I stayed for a year and a half with someone who was completely wrong for me and who was controlling, manipulative and time-consuming. He wanted me to spend every minute of my free time with him. He wanted me to share everything with him, but frequently reminded me that everything he shared with me was his. He broke up with me because he did not want to compete with my children (and my cousin on one occasion) for my time and attention.

When my mother was alive, she thought it strange that I didn’t want to get married again. I guess my father, who ironically enough always disapproved of me having boyfriends and hated everyone but my ex-husband, also thinks I should get remarried. Supposedly, he has voiced concerns that because I spend much of my free time with my cousins, that I will never find someone. If he were to ever voice these concerns to me instead of his caretakers, I would have to tell him that I am not looking for anyone.

Recently, I met with a new therapist. My old therapist unfortunately retired just before the holidays and because of the holidays and various other reasons, I dragged my feet finding a new therapist. I tend to wait until I actually need a therapist to look for one, especially now that it is a new one. Therapists are like boyfriends. I think one of the reasons I personally tended to stay in bad relationships is because it is easier than having to start from scratch with a new relationship. The same is true for therapists. Just as I would have to start from scratch telling a new boyfriend about myself, my family, my interests, my likes and dislikes, etc., I also have to tell the same things to my therapist. My new therapist asked if I was dating and I had to begin trying to explain why not. My old therapist would have already known the answer to this question, so progress would be a forward motion without the need to restart the car.

I spent fourteen years having someone tell me what I could and could not do. Despite the fact that I made most of the money and for half of the marriage, made all the money, I had no access to any of the money. All of our money went into a bank account I had no access to. I had given up on things that were once important to me and had almost entirely forgotten who I was before I got married. When I saw Wreck-it Ralph, I instantly fell in love with the character of Vanellope Von Schweetz, even dressing like her a few years ago for Halloween. What I did not realize was that there was a connection between that glitch and myself; a connection that was apparent to one of my cousins who has worked tirelessly for the past six years to reset my code, only to have his work interrupted by my ex-boyfriend. I remain a work in progress.

I am bit by bit returning to being the person I was before I got married. I have returned to doing music and theatre work, though my confidence has taken a blow over the past two decades. I have returned to writing, though I never really completely stopped writing, I just stopped sharing it with people, except for my academic writing. My life is by no means perfect and it remains very much a work in progress, but I hope that someday I can at least say that it is my life that I am living and not someone else’s. I eat what I want to eat and drink what I want to drink. I go where I want to go, assuming that my responsibilities to my children and to my father do not interfere. My father is a great interference because he can’t be left alone, so even if I were to find someone, how could I possibly have a normal relationship like others do? I play music, audition for plays, read, write and do what I want when I want (assuming that I am not working). I don’t have to share anything. There is great freedom in being single. So, why is ‘single’ such a bad word that terms like ‘spinster’ have been developed to bring an even more negative connotation? Why is ‘spinster’ negative? What is so wrong with being single that you have to explain to everyone why you are still single, or, god forbid, that being single was actually a personal choice?

The temptation is to wonder if it’s just because people in relationships want you to be as miserable as they are, but I think sociology and voyeurism are more likely culprits. Humans are social beings for the most part and we find it strange when someone chooses not to be social in ways that we find normal. The concept of ‘normal’ brings me to my next point about voyeurism. Mankind is very much interested in what is going on in other people’s bedrooms. We have not really progressed much from decades ago when it was illegal to be in an interracial relationship. There are people who still have a problem with interracial relationships and even more people who have problems with non-heteronormative relationships. These people are essentially saying that everyone must be in a relationship so long as that relationship is on their terms.

There is nothing wrong with being single. There is great freedom in being single. There is room for self-analysis, self-improvement and deep soul-searching when you are single. Particularly when you find yourself in bad relationship after bad relationship, there is much to be gained from spending some time alone trying to figure out who you are and what you need in someone else. The healthiest relationships are the product of healthy individuals coming together to share their lives. Certainly compromise should be a part of every relationship, but it should not be all compromise from one and no compromise from the other. When you have completely forgotten who you are because of a relationship, you need time to regroup.

There is also nothing wrong with being in a relationship, as long as all parties are happy. This happiness should really be the only constraint that we put on relationships, not race, gender or any other preconceived ideas. If you are not in favor of interracial or non-heteronormative relationships, then don’t be in one, but don’t think that you have the right to get in the way of other’s relationships just because you don’t agree with them. You are interfering with their inalienable right to happiness and that is wrong.

Puerto Rico

Puerto Rico

Hurricane Maria struck Puerto Rico 120 days (approximately 4 months) ago. Recent statistics estimate that approximately 64% of the island has electricity and it was just a few days ago that Twitter trended a story about a school in Puerto Rico finally getting back to some sense of normalcy. 93% of the island has water and 100% of the island is still under advisory to boil their water. We have all seen the pictures of the destruction that Hurricane Maria caused in Puerto Rico. We have seen dilapidated homes and debris-ridden streets. We have seen the faces of Maria’s victims. If we have been paying attention, we have seen the cries for help from residents of Puerto Rico, people on the mainland and organizations such as Hispanic Federation. Likewise, we have seen the outpouring of support from generous Americans amid the video footage of Donald Trump throwing paper towels at them. Most of the mainland, on the other hand, complains when the Wi-Fi is too slow.

There are issues on the mainland that need to be addressed, such as the clean water crisis in Flint, Michigan and schools in the east that are failing to provide adequate heat in their classrooms. This blog entry however, is concerned with the ongoing crisis in and insulting response to Hurricane Maria victims in Puerto Rico. Tossing paper towels at these victims is quite possibly the most insulting response they have received, but also insulting was the delay in aid immediately after the hurricane hit, the seeming lack of recognition that Puerto Rico is a U.S. territory and therefore entitled to American aid, the continual refusal to provide adequate aid to Puerto Rico, followed by an implication by Donald Trump that Puerto Ricans are lazy and do not want to help themselves and an attack on San Juan’s mayor Carmen Yulin Cruz and now the decision to withhold the emergency loan promised to Puerto Rico three months ago. This decision, the U.S. government states, is due to the fact that Puerto Rico reportedly has $7 billion available to them. Whether this figure is accurate or not is not really the issue when you take into account the insurmountable debt that Puerto Rico has and the approximately $95 billion worth of damage suffered by the island as the result of Hurricane Maria. Debt aside, trying to take care of $95 billion worth of damage with $7 billion in reserve is akin to owing your dealer $95 and you only have $7 to offer. You’re going to get your ass kicked! This is a terrible analogy, but necessary for the sake of recognizing the urgency of the matter. Puerto Rico needs help now, not when the U.S. government gets around to it.

Another issue is the fact that this relief that the U.S. government reneged on is not a handout; it was to be yet another loan to add to their already over $70 billion debt. With over $70 billion in debt and $95 billion in hurricane damage, Puerto Rico is never going to be able to recover with the $7 billion the U.S. government claims they have in reserve. They are going to be forever in debt, forever struggling to catch up, forever poor and forever little more than a third world country that is actually part of the United States. Over 300,000 people have already come over to the mainland from Puerto Rico as a result, and many of those are now facing eviction from their new safe haven, creating a continual state of flux for these displaced victims.

Meanwhile, Trump’s administration is cracking down on immigrants, many of which have lived in the United States longer than some of us have been alive. Many of these immigrants that are being deported have never really lived in the country they are being sent back to, and in some cases, don’t even speak the language. I am in favor of deporting people who are causing problems here, but I cannot in good conscience support the splitting up of families, especially when they have been here for years and are contributing members of society such as doctors and other hard-working individuals. This seems to be in direct contrast to the family values that the Republican Party claims to uphold. Furthermore, if the Republican Party is so against immigration and so obviously racist toward persons of color, creating a situation in which over a quarter million people must come over from Puerto Rico in order to just remain alive seems rather foolish on their part. This presidency is going to go down as one of the cruelest and most fiscally irresponsible, but at least Trump got some exercise on the golf course and his supporters got, well, nothing but a false sense of security.

Embrace your new neighbors. They really had no other choice and they are, after all, American. Help them do what is necessary to become registered voters now that they are on the mainland because, well, 300,000 new votes could make one hell of a dent.

Shaking off 2017

Shaking off 2017

Southern California experienced a small earthquake registering 3.1 centered near Ontario about 5:36 p.m. local time. This seems to me a very appropriate way to shake off a year that held a great deal of sadness, disappointment, frustration, anger, division, and a whole host of other emotions for many people. While I am aware that there are people who actually liked 2017, and that there were actually good elements and stories from 2017, this year for me has been mostly bad and I am looking forward to putting it and every year prior to it behind me.

January launched a new presidency, and with it, all the promises, good and bad, of a new administration. The agenda of the new administration is to derail every accomplishment of the Obama administration, including healthcare and net neutrality. The guiding force of this administration is hatred and division. Trump and his followers hate Obama. This cannot be disputed. While it can be debated that not all of Trump’s followers are racist, bigoted, and misogynistic, it cannot be debated that the one common thread they all hold is a hatred for Obama and they are willing to allow this hatred to completely undermine the sanctity of the presidency and all that it stands for. His supporters have become a brainwashed group of lemmings turning a blind eye to Trump’s numerous golf trips, outrageous statements, excessive tweets, unhinged ramblings, and war against the poor. 2018 needs to see democracy at its finest with record voter turnout, particularly by the marginalized.

On February 16^th, a speeding, distracted driver failed to realize that the light was red and vehicles were not in motion. His actions caused a great deal of trouble for persons in two cars, especially for someone I love whose life is likely to never be the same. He has been in constant pain and discomfort, with developing problems ever since this accident and another similar accident in May, in which I was the driver and we were again rear-ended at a red light. Drivers really need to pay attention. Get off your fucking cell phones and other electronic devices and look at the fucking road in front of you! Do not run red lights and stop signs. Pay attention or get off the fucking road!

In March, my oldest daughter turned 18 and shortly afterward decided to move in with her father. I can probably count on one hand how many times I have seen her since then, even though her grandmother was dying of Alzheimer’s. She didn’t even go to the rosary or the funeral service. Despite the fact that I spent hundreds of dollars to send her on three conference trips for HOSA (Health Occupations Students of America) to Sacramento and Anaheim, special clothing and supplies and unending encouragement in her endeavor to be a doctor (even though I knew the actual likelihood of being a doctor was slim due to learning and emotional problems), she is telling people that I tried to kill her. This could not be further from the truth. The incident she refers to occurred while I was driving and she was fighting with her younger sister. After numerous times telling them to be quiet, I yelled “shut the fuck up!” She proceeded to call me a whore because I slept with her father (whom I was married to) more than once and had more than one child. In my attempt to smack her in the mouth, I missed and hit her in the neck. I do not advocate violence and I am sorry that I missed her mouth and hit her in the neck, but I think most people can agree that she was way out of line even if they can’t agree that attempting to smack her in the mouth was the appropriate reaction.

April, May and June were, for the most part, the best part of 2017 for me. In April, I auditioned to be in Annie after 22 years of not really doing any theatre except for teaching/directing. I had been largely discouraged during my 14-year marriage and had not ventured to do anything I was previously told “no” to since being freed from this marriage. I was cast and had a great deal of fun rehearsing and performing in this musical for the third time in my life. I cannot pass the month of May though without noting the unfortunate suicide of a musical great, Chris Cornell.

In July, we lost another musical great, Chester Bennington. While I did not know Chris Cornell or Chester Bennington personally, I loved their contribution to music and their music, as well as their magic, will be forever remembered. Someone I did know personally also passed in July, very near the time of Chester’s death. Her name is Shay Rogers. She and I used to work together many years ago and she was a delightful person to be around. I will always remember her for giving me tickets to see numerous races at Irwindale Speedway. Leukemia took her way too early and left two children without their mother.

In August, I began working as a privately contracted music instructor, an occupation that I never thought I would have. My father told me I would never make any money with music. My ex-husband seemed to share that belief. I had pretty much hung up any notion of doing music as anything more than a mere hobby and I had completely given up on being on stage.

In September, I lost my mother to Alzheimer’s. Just typing these words brings tears to my eyes. I had tears in my eyes this morning too as I thought about my mother while I took a shower. Today was not really a good day for me as I have been recovering from the flu and did not feel very well today. To add insult to injury, I was unable to take flowers to my mom’s gravesite for Christmas because of the flu and I felt guilty that as of today, I still hadn’t made it to her gravesite. I hope to go tomorrow. Her service was held in October and her birthday would have been in November, which brings us to December.

On the whole, this month was a pretty good month, even with the flu. If anything, the flu afforded me an opportunity to take a break and rest. I have been going non-stop for the past two and a half years and I needed to be able to just do nothing but watch television and rest. I came up with an idea for a Disney movie during this time. I may have been delusional, and this idea may be delusional, but what Disney movie isn’t a little delusional? Before catching the flu, I saw the hottest musical of the decade, Hamilton (unfortunately, this is probably where I caught the flu). The worst part of the month was not the flu, but the decision to let my youngest and only son go live with his father. This decision did not come easily, but came from the desire to not have him be in the middle of a bitter custody battle and to honor his wishes. I have always tried to do what was in the best interest of my children. I have been far from perfect in this endeavor, but when it came to them spending time with their father, I have only once interfered and it was because of the crap their father was telling them about me (he still does talk a lot of trash).

This year has had some ups and a lot of downs, but it has taught me some things. I have learned that fear is the only thing standing in my way now. I have overcome fear at times to do things I wanted to do like Annie. I have learned that my naysayers no longer have any power over me. I learned they never should have had any. I realized that I have lost a lot of friends over the years because they have moved away and forgot about me, while I never forgot about them. I have come to expect that, but moving forward, I am going to just forget about them too. In the event that I ever get lucky and become famous for writing or something and they come out of the woodwork, I will definitely forget them. The only people that will matter going forward will be the people who have always been there for me. These are the only people who should ever matter. This year, like every year before it, is behind me. There were lessons to be learned that should be carried into the new year, but the years themselves are gone. Out with the old, in with the new.

A Better Life

A Better Life

I guess when you call Santa a Republican, you can expect a lump of coal for Christmas, or perhaps the flu. When I wrote “If Santa is Real, He’s a Republican,” I thought my dry cough was perhaps just allergies because I forgot to take my allergy medicine the day before. I had also ignored my achiness that morning because I am achy every morning, some mornings more than others. Christmas morning would prove me wrong. For Christmas, I got the flu.

I have been relatively bed ridden and house bound for about three and a half days. In an effort to contain the disease as much as possible, and also because I hurt too much to move anyway, I spent the majority of this time in bed. Since this entry is not intended to be about how awful the flu is, I will just summarize by saying that I was absolutely miserable in every way, ran a fever ranging from 100 to 103 and was too delirious to do anything more than eat, drink, and binge watch television shows. I left the house only to go to the doctor and the pharmacy on Tuesday and again to the pharmacy yesterday.

While having the flu forced me to have to cancel a week’s worth of appointments and will cause me to have to wait until February to see my rheumatologist, in the end, it was worth it. I was honestly not going to get a break any other way. Yes, I would have preferred a much less miserable vacation, but a vacation is simply not possible for me. I have been going non-stop for two and a half years now. Every day I have something to do. When I try to take time for myself to get my hair or nails done, get a massage or simply even to eat, I am disturbed (see “Things Fall Apart” in my other blog When Parents Grow Old and Get Crazy). The flu was the universe’s way of giving me permission to rest.

I began to feel a little better yesterday. Today, I decided I could begin to do a little more and incorporate myself back into the world a little more. I began by watering just the back yard. While I was watering, I thought about my old dog, Wyatt. He was actually my brother’s dog (I was never allowed to have a dog, just my brother), but my brother didn’t take care of him, so he became my parent’s responsibility. He lived in the back yard his entire life. My brother got him drunk once and poor Wyatt puked everywhere. My dad used to sit on the patio and hit him with the fly swat. I would play with him, talk to him and feed him my leftovers (assuming that my leftovers were not pork or something that would make him sick). He likely associated my brother with abandonment, my father with fly swats and me with play and food. When he died, I felt bad that his life wasn’t better and that he hardly ever saw anything besides his yard and his dog house. I felt the same way after my mother died.

My mother was born and raised in Mississippi. Growing up, she was always poor. Alcoholism, drug addiction, smoking, mental health issues, marital problems and abusive husbands were common within her immediate and extended family. So, the fact that she smoked for half her life, had mental health issues and married two abusive husbands is not that surprising given her circumstances growing up. She was a beautiful woman when was young, though. She was intelligent until Alzheimer’s stole her mind. She could have done so much better. Her life should have been better.

I broke the cycle of being stuck with an abusive husband. I have a new cycle I wish to break. I don’t want to die wishing that I had lived my life better. For the rest of this year, I am going to rest. I am going to finish getting better. I am going to take a freaking break. In the new year, I am going to live my life better. I am going to take better care of myself. I am going to work harder to get what I want. I am going to learn to tell people no. I am going to start delegating minor responsibilities. I am going to learn to be more efficient in taking care of the responsibilities that I do have to tend to. I am going to manage my time better. I am also going to take breaks, even if it means turning my phone off and pissing off a few people. They get breaks. Why shouldn’t I?

Some people want to leave behind a legacy. They want to “build something that’s gonna’ outlive [them]”. While this would be nice too, I am willing to settle for at least living my life well. At this point, I have spent half my life living well and half my life in some modern adaptation of Tale of Two Cities (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...”). I only have one more quarter left. I cannot afford to waste all of this time not living my best life possible.

References:

Dickens, Charles. Tale of Two Cities. 1859.

Miranda, Lin-Manuel. Hamilton. 2016.

If Santa is Real, He's a Republican

If Santa is Real, He’s a Republican

Over time, the Buddha has remained a symbol of peace, compassion, tranquility and love. The four noble truths and the eightfold path has never changed and Buddha has never wavered in his pursuit of nirvana through the eightfold path. The same has been relatively true for the Dalai Lama. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for our view of who Jesus is, or for who Santa is.  On the eve of Christmas, when Santa is supposedly flying all over the world in a sleigh pulled by reindeer, I wish to opine why the myth of Santa Claus should have been left on the folklore shelf a long time ago.

When my children were babies, I wish that my husband at the time would have shared my view that the myth of Santa should be shared as merely a work of fiction. In time, children grow up and realize that Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are all fictional and they begin to wonder how much of what we tell them is actually true. If you have a father like mine, who has spent so much of his adult life telling lies that in his old age he can no longer remember what is even true anymore, you are even more so skeptical of what is true. In the event that you attempted to raise your children as Christians, your perpetuation of the myth of these fictional characters potentially places your children’s faith in God in danger.

Most parents wish for their children to be honest. Why then, do we lie to our children? Sure, there will be times when telling a little white lie might be necessary for their own benefit, but I fail to see how telling them that Santa is real is going to be at all beneficial unless you are wealthy and your children are incurious and dull.

The astute child, in time, will realize the improbability of flying reindeer that are able to navigate a large enough sleigh to carry a portly old man and millions of presents all over the world in a single night. Furthermore, this rotund old man has to be able to shimmy down multiple chimneys quietly in order to leave presents. I wish to be a fly on the wall of the Christian home that tries to explain that this is all possible through magic while at the same time explaining why magic is supposedly bad.

Beyond the impossibilities and contradictions of trying to pass this myth off as true is the harsh reality of inequality. If Santa is real, then he is a Republican. He does not favor the unemployed, the unfortunate, or the poor. He delivers more presents to the wealthy families than he does to the less affluent ones, and still others receive no presents at all. Wealthy children are not necessarily better behaved than poor children, and yet they receive more presents. How do you explain to poor children that behaved all year that Santa favors the wealthy kids more than he does them?

Yes, my opinion is based in leftist ideology, but it does not originate in someone who has always been poor. Quite the opposite is actually true. I have been on both sides of the economic fence over the course of my lifetime, but I have always been acutely aware of inequality. I knew there were children who received fewer presents than me when I was a child, and now that I am an adult with children of my own, I, as well as my children, know children personally who would not receive anything at all if not for the kindness of others. Children should be aware of this reality. Their parents should get the credit for anything they receive, not a mythical being. The parents are the ones who worked hard, went shopping, wrapped presents, etc., not Santa. They should know that individual circumstances control how packed the Christmas tree is, not favoritism. They should be aware that other children are not as lucky as they are. What better way to teach gratitude?