I am feeling like an avalanche coming. The smallest tremor to set me off. Don’t get me wrong, I am not considering any self-harm, to me or to others. The shadows are coming again, slowly, but steadily. One or two of these are in ‘living color’. Shadows of doubt, panic attacks, like a Tsunami. I hear the roar, waters that creep and fill me, with pains of high and Low Tides.
I have thought of my new name. Do you like it? It was pretty racist to behold. I have shanks of poetry, misplaced grammar and enough hubris to weigh me down. But rather I wish to find a copper coin. I wish to elucidate, on a lily pad called destiny. I want to pick away the burrs. To the Longfellow chaps. I want to find a nuance and let it work for all of us. Not a twenty and definitely not a line for ghouls. I want to make mince meat into pies. Not lines of craters nor lines of white. I wish to find… and destroy it. I wish for them to grow. Not in some rusty hole. I pray that these come to pass.
It is the dawn of anxiety, I see my head floating downstream. Portable Sinkholes, elaborating, roiling downward, and making life ‘like a buoy’, a respite from the darkest downs.
A song, a note, reveries with plumb lines, like spider webs twisted. Sometimes the emotions are overwrought, with their own insanity, glossed over but not forgotten. Let us play harpsichords and twing a violin. Let’s stop the wrong kind of thing. Planting history with falling leaves.
The ads are appealing, promises and guarantees that hard loving their teens would make them more likely to be good. So many of their restrictions were flat wrong. Using mail as a carrot stick was wrong on so many levels. Subjecting them to strip searches and BCS, were and are dehumanizing. Add in lack of phones to parents and family, and there is a great quotient for abuse.
“Parents teach children discipline for two different, indeed diametrically opposed, reasons: to render the child submissive to them and to make him independent of them. Only a self-disciplined person can be obedient; and only such a person can be autonomous.”
― Thomas Szasz
Hey, timeout was no big deal. The backpacks were supposed to be 30% of their weight and the 70lbs they bore is quite a bit more. I have some links that are must reads, because they talk about deaths and extreme physical abuse. One Asian girl was thrown off a truck and died.
A movie called ‘Bootcamp’, starring Mila Kunis pretty much sums up conditions and punishments doled out, to intractible slaves (teens). Besides the Cavity Searches and beatings, make me think of Concentration Camps as to a catharsis from being out-of-control brats (which many were).
Abducting these kids with the permission of teens would be disallowed in the first place. Called ‘Escorts’, they would go to the kids and haul them off in handcuffs or being drugged, ending up in some camp far away. We treat criminals better than this. Factor in some judges being paid to send kids off to jail or boot camps, then how can that be right?
Thankfully the number of camps have been from like 18 to 3 camps and most have better safe-guards. But while they do some things, death is not among them.
Some of these kids are mentally ill and sending a kid who has real mental issues is a non-starter.
Most times just going to the store can be an event that can only be coped with by getting in and out as fast as possible. You feel like to see the curb you have to look up and you resent people getting too close to you and not being sure about their motives. The hate and revulsion you bear is multifaceted. For example, my writing might be better except I find it hard to be too long in one place. Sleep helps but I am getting older so do I want to waste too many days.
I care for people who are hurting. I have worked at the Shriners and the CCFA and done charity events to benefit others. That stuff is good and I am pretty humble about it, even as I donate to special causes for the alleviation of hardship. Outwardly I am respectful but inwardly very untrusting because my puzzle was shaken so much that I do not know that all the parts are still there. And considering the fact that I might fail I use the excuse of quitting to preserve my margins. I just can’t take another loss.
Some tragedies have been more profound than others, so heartbreaking that I trust precious few. Exploitation of the weak is a mortal transgression especially when I see no sense of guilt but the sociopathic behaviors of people who may be family or friends. You can apologize and I will accept it, now if I can forgive myself.
I just fed my two cats. I have so much fun at the labor of love because they will not or cannot hurt me. I am not perfect but I am no Jack the Ripper, nor do I spit on any man’s grave. When Saddam was hung I felt no joy although he had done enough that his death was the only solution. Barbarity is always barbarity. I just wish that people would apply astringent to all wounds, sort of like MDs.
There are times when the tides of my consternation wash over me and I get confused between the different points in my life. Not knowing where the hand may come and realizing that no one really comes out ahead. So, at this moment I was feeling bad but my kitty insisted on soft food and I realized it was her time and all I could feel (to both of them) was mercy and love. Figuring the rest will work itself out.