P for Passages of Time

It is amazing how quickly time manages to fly by; isn’t it, lovely reader? Life has been hectic lately. Like don’t remember what day of the week, let alone what month, it is kind of hectic. Psychology class is over, and Algebra wraps up in a couple weeks, which means I’ll soon be on a lovely three week winter break! Wooohooo! I’m looking forward to having some downtime, catching up on my blog reading (I have a lot of catching up to do), and enjoying some time with friends and family. In addition to the busyness of school, work, and life in general, there has been some pretty major family drama too. I just don’t have the energy to get into it right now, so I’ll summarize as best I can…

My mother, who had weight loss surgery over three years ago, is incredibly ill. Like the possibility of dying exists kind of sick. While she insists that this illness has nothing to do with her surgery, it’s hard to deny that it makes recovery more difficult. It’s also hard to ignore that she’s been ill, in one way or another and to one degree or another, since she’s had the surgery. But, whatever.

She’s severely malnourished; her body does not retain any nutrients, or calories, or apparently anything from the food she eats. She’s gained 30 pounds of water weight alone. Apparently there's a possibility that she might have thyroid cancer, but the tests haven’t come back yet. She just started 24/7 IV nutrition therapy in the hopes that they can get her nutrition levels up enough to figure out what exactly is wrong with her, and then hopefully fix whatever it is. To top it off, she and her husband continue to barely scrape by financially. I have loaned given them more money than I care to think about or admit. And there’s no sign that any of that will get better anytime soon. It could, in fact, get worse, because there is a very real possibility that my mom will lose her medical insurance as a result of having to take 3-6 weeks of leave from work in order to try to get better.

It has become a very real possibility that MusicMan and I will need to take custody of my nephew, Li’l D, a lot earlier than we thought we would. We’re as ready as we can be for this, and of course, we want what’s best for Li’l D. Unfortunately, my mother remains stubbornly resistant to the idea. It’s getting to the point where I’m going to have to tell her that, if I’m going to financially support Li’l D any longer (because that’s really the only reason I have given her so much money), then he’s going to live with me. That’s not going to sit well at all. She might sever ties with me, and as a result sever our access to Li’l D. In which case, I will be forced to drag the whole thing into court, because I want what’s best for my nephew. But for now, we wait. And hope…

That things will get better. That my mom will heal and survive. That Li’l D living in such a stressful environment won’t affect him detrimentally for the rest of his life. That mom will come to her senses and do what’s best for Li’l D. That MusicMan and I will be able to handle suddenly becoming “parents” to an almost five-year-old basically overnight. That life will just quit being difficult for a while.

Speaking of difficult, I mentioned at this time last year that I hate this time of year. I gave a few reasons; the biggest of which, is that the anniversary of my youngest sister’s death is in December. It’s amazing the difference a year makes, lovely reader…

December 19 will mark three years that my sister has been gone. I’ve been so focused on finishing up the semester at school, getting ready for the holidays, and excitedly anticipating the bonfire we’ll have (on December 18) to celebrate her life that I momentarily forgot the significance of the date. My cousinfriend made a comment in a conversation we had recently about the date, December 19, being a hard day for my other sister and my twin brother (this is what my mother told my cousin, anyway). I seriously had to think for a few moments about why that would be. Imagine my shock and horror when I realized that the significance of the date is that it is the day, almost three years ago, that my sister was robbed of her life. Time flies.

This, of course, caused me to think about how far I’ve come in that time. I don’t cry nearly as much as I used to. I no longer fear the question, “How many siblings do you have?” and can talk about Kristine’s death without feeling anxious or having a panic attack set it. These are really good changes. Yes, I’ve come a long way since December 19, 2007.

When I first noticed that I hadn’t “lost it” in a good long while, I felt so guilty. How could I not be crying over my dead sister? What was wrong with me?! Then I realized that there was nothing to feel guilty over. Not crying regularly doesn’t in any way diminish the feelings I have for my sister or the profound sense of loss that will always exist as a result of her absence from my life. I love her beyond words. I am thankful that I got to spend the time with her that I did. And, I will never, ever, ever forget her.
I can't cry forever, and crying really truly doesn’t make me feel better about anything. Nor will it change anything. Don’t get me wrong, when those moments of extreme, gut-wrenching anguish hit, I give in to them. I cry my heart out until I just can’t cry anymore. But those moments don’t happen nearly as often anymore, and for that, I am incredibly thankful. The fact that I don’t cry as often anymore means that I’m not in pain as often, and that’s a good thing. It means I am moving forward.

I still think of Kristine every single day—at least once a day, but usually quite a bit more. I miss her more than words can even describe. Of course, I want her here. I want to hear her laugh, I want one of her amazing hugs, and I want to be enveloped in the light—the spirit—that was her. I want my nephew to have his mommy; to know what an amazing mother she was instead of having to hear about it as he grows older. These feelings never go away. My heart physically aches at times over all that she’s missed out on, and will miss out on, and over just how much I miss her and long for her to be here. But, I’ve realized that just isn’t possible. She’s not coming back. Ever. That is a cold, hard, unchanging fact of life.

The grief and healing process is a weird, horrible, confusing, multi-faceted, terrible, amazing thing. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, but at the same time, I know I will be healing for the rest of my life. A big part of that healing lies in forgiveness. I swore I would never, ever forgive Kristine’s murderer, Zachery, for as long as I lived. Like most people, I confused forgiveness with forgetting. Just as I will never forget my sister, I will never forget what Zachery did. I will always, always remember that he hit her so hard that he knocked her out, made a ligature out of a shoelace, and used all of the force he could muster to squeeze the life out of her for no less than two minutes.

But, I’ve forgiven Zachery. I really mean that. Those words—I forgive—come from deep down, the bottom of my heart.

I. Forgive. Him.

Of course, that forgiveness is more for me than it is for him. It means nothing to him; it would mean nothing to him even if he knew. It doesn’t mean that I’m in any way okay with what he did. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss Kristine. It doesn’t mean that I love her any less. It certainly doesn’t diminish the tragedy of what happened. No.

What it does mean is: I’m done with him. Forever. He’s not worth the time or effort I was spending on hating him, being angry over him, or wondering why he did what he did. There’s just no room for that in my head or heart anymore. I’m taking back the power he, or at least what he did, had over me. He did what he did, and he’s being punished appropriately for it. Just as we have to deal with our loss for the rest of our lives, he has to deal with what he did for the rest of his, and that’s good enough for me. I’m done.

I think I needed to forgive him in order to move on with my life, and I really truly have. I feel lighter...cleaner...just plain better. My realization the other day—that I had sort of “forgotten” the significance of the date—makes me realize that I have chosen to honor my sister’s memory not by focusing on her death, but by celebrating her life.

I’m choosing the good memories over the bad. This was her most favorite time of year—the festive feel of the whole season and the buildup to one of her most favorite holidays. Since she can’t be here to enjoy it, I owe it to her to at least appreciate that I can be. This year I’ll do one better. I will joyously anticipate and celebrate Christmas like she would have. In her honor. Because I can’t think of a better way to honor her. Besides, she wouldn’t want me crying all the time. That was so not her style.

N for No Thanks!

I received a letter from Community College last week. Since I wasn’t expecting anything from them, I immediately tore it open and my eyes quickly began to devour the words. As a result of my outstanding GPA and superior academic achievement, I was being offered the special opportunity to enroll in an upcoming honors level English course.

Since I don’t need another English class, at least not another research writing course, and the class is at a time that won’t work for me, I’m gonna pass. However, I finished reading the letter anyway. I was informed that I can ask any instructor of any class to give me honors level work. Apparently all that’s required is a special form from the registration office and the instructor’s permission. Interesting.

You might be thinking, as was I, why would I willingly ask instructors to give me more work? Except, of course, to pad my transcript with honors classes, which I assume are supposed to somehow look better. The thing is I’m only seven classes away from finishing my associate’s degree. Had they caught me a few semesters ago, I might have considered a few honors classes. But, now? Well. Now I’m just a little too smart to ask for more work and/or harder work just for the sake of making me look a tad bit better on paper. Apparently that is not the only reason one takes honors classes though…

The letter went on to say that taking honors level courses would provide me with more of a challenge. Oh, okay. I see it now. I’m apparently too smart for Community College, lovely reader. I wonder what tipped them off. Is it the fact that my GPA has been a solid 4.0 for over a year? It took them long enough to notice. And while I am a perfectionist, apparently I am not an overachiever, because I’m not buying into the “honor” bestowed on those who abuse challenge themselves with honors level courses. Perhaps in a bachelor’s or master’s degree setting, sure, but for an associate’s degree? Really? I don’t think so.

Community College doesn’t seem to understand that they are just a means to an end for me. I need to get my associate’s degree done efficiently (and cheaply) and they meet that need. Once I have what I want from them, I’m done. On to bigger and better things.

Community College has either seriously overestimated my motivation or underestimated my common sense. Why would I put my flawless GPA on the line just to have the words “honors level” appear a few times on my transcript? I can’t imagine that it would give me that much of an edge when applying for a bachelor’s program. I’d think a high cumulative GPA is good enough.

But, perhaps that’s the problem; I’m fine with just good enough. At least for right now, where my associate’s degree is concerned. I mean, really, is the college I transfer to going to look at a 3.6 GPA where the transcript notes some honors courses and think it’s that much better than my 4.0 GPA without honors courses? Is there that much of a difference? I really don’t think so.

As far as being challenged? I think I have been, and continue to be, challenged just enough. Thankyouverymuch! And, because I just recently registered for spring semester classes, I can say with confidence that next semester will be a challenge. Sure there have been some courses along the way that haven’t been very challenging, or riveting, or really felt worth my time at all, but I viewed them as a necessary evil. I don’t think taking them as honors level courses would’ve made them any better.

With only two regular courses—statistics and creative writing—left to take after spring semester, assuming all of the classes I’ve registered for work out this spring (more on that later), I won’t be asking for permission to take honors courses anytime soon. I guess that ship has sailed. I’ll have to be satisfied with the fact that Community College apparently thinks I’m too smart for them.

I know that sounds incredibly arrogant, but that’s really all I can take away from the letter. I mean; I’ve taken four semesters of classes, and they just now caught on to the fact that I could maybe use a challenge?! Seriously?! I can say with confidence that I’ve definitely felt challenged, even if the only challenge presented with certain classes was the shear amount of work assigned. And as I try to fit seven classes (well, five classes and two competencies) into the next two semesters in order to be finished with my associate’s degree on time to start the bachelor’s program in the fall, I have a feeling that there will be no lack of challenge or frustration.

Thanks, but no thanks, Community College. You can take your honors courses and shove them. I’ll keep my 4.0 GPA (or as close to it as I can manage)!

I for I believe...

GAH! I am so frustrated lately, lovely reader. The recent election has me all in a tizzy. Now decency and politeness dictate that one should never discuss politics or religion if she wants to keep friends, but I’m going to throw caution to the wind today and focus on politics for a moment.

I seriously cannot believe the close-mindedness that exists in the world today. Republican/Democrat, Conservative/Liberal, I really don’t care. I can find viewpoints I understand and/or agree with from either party. I personally think we need to get away from the two-party system and back to “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” Though, in the interest of full disclosure, I tend to fall more Democrat/Independent/Liberal. What I can’t stand, and what scares me the most, is the Tea Party. Some Conservatives/Republicans even say that the Tea Party is bat shit crazy! To me, that is definitely cause for concern.

So you can imagine my disgust and outright sadness over the fact that my state nominated a tea partier, Michele Bachman, to represent us in Congress. Yes. People actually went out and voted for a woman, who’s said out loud:

"Little children will be forced to learn that homosexuality is normal and natural and perhaps they should try it."

( Interview with Jan Markell, Olive Tree Ministries.)

“Normalization (of gayness) through desensitization. Very effective way to do this with a bunch of second graders, is to take a picture of ‘The Lion King’ for instance, and a teacher might say, ‘Do you know that the music for this movie was written by a gay man?’ The message is: I’m better at what I do because I’m gay.”

(Speaking at EdWatch National Education Conference, November 6, 2004.)

"That's why people need to continue to go to the town halls, continue to melt the phone lines of their liberal members of Congress, and let them know, under no certain circumstances will I give the government control over my body and my health care decisions."

(As a pro-lifer, she completely missed the irony of using the same slogan as the pro-choice movement in arguing against health care reform.)

She’s also said, “not all cultures are equal,” and, “Carbon dioxide is portrayed as harmful. But there isn't even one study that can be produced that shows that carbon dioxide is a harmful gas." She urged her supporters to vote for her so that, together, they “can take back our freedom!” But, her definition of freedom is quite skewed. Freedom to Michele Bachman means freedom from government control (funny that she’d even want to be a part of the government she hates so much) and taxes, but it does not include the freedom to decide who you will marry. If you’re a woman, Michele Bachman’s version of freedom also doesn’t allow you to make decisions regarding your own body as she wants to ban abortion.

Women who voted for Michele Bachman, or any other tea partier for that matter, are an affront to all women. I realize that saying you’ve betrayed your gender is using strong language, and that it might sound a bit harsh, but that’s how strongly I feel about a woman’s right to choose. I am completely and totally appalled that another woman would even conceive of denying such an important right to other women, and I cannot believe that women would so willingly vote to give up that right. Whether or not you have or would have an abortion isn’t the issue, the issue is that it is an individual woman’s right to choose—not the government’s, not the religious right’s, not the fetus’—it is a woman’s right to choose. We must never allow that right to be taken away.

I fear for the future of our country if the tea party does in fact take it over. I am not at all joking when I say that I will leave this country if that happens. I realize that nowhere is perfect, and that I’ll likely have my fair share of complaints and problems in Germany, Australia, Canada, or any number of other places, but I refuse to live under the tea party’s fascist regime.

I don’t want to live in a country surrounded by heavily reinforced, tightly guarded walls simply because my country’s leaders believe we need to protect ourselves and our country from evil immigrants. We seem to forget that this country was founded on immigration. And let’s not forget that walls don’t only serve to keep people out; they also keep people in. I refuse to be trapped; forced to live under totalitarian rule, under the guise that it’s for my own protection. I don’t want to live in a country in which the government denies basic civil rights to certain citizens simply because they were born to love a person of the same sex as themselves. And I most certainly don’t want to live in a country in which governing law is based upon Christianity, which of course dictates that life is life, and as such, my uterus and its contents are subject to their “protection” instead of my choice.

Instead of railing on about how much I hate the tea party, and fear for my country’s future, perhaps it would just be easier if I tell you what I do believe.

I believe that this country was not founded on Christianity, and as such, should not be run based on Christian principles and values. Our forefathers came to America to escape religious persecution, and as such, our government isn’t, and should never be, based upon one singular religion. There is a reason that separation of church and state exists, and we need to keep it that way. I’m all for religious freedom. You practice whatever religion you want in whatever way you want to, but keep your religion out of my government and away from my body.

I believe that marriage, and all of the rights and protections it affords, is a basic civil right. Two consenting adults, of appropriate age and sound mind, should be allowed to unite in a legally binding marriage regardless of their sexual orientation. If you want to keep those marriages out of your church, that’s fine. You still cannot stop the government from denying basic civil rights to its citizens. Again, you are entitled to your beliefs, but you are not allowed to force them upon others. Don’t like or want gay marriage? Don’t have one!

I believe that we are all responsible for paying our fair share in taxes, and that it is the government’s responsibility to allocate those funds appropriately. I don’t particularly enjoy paying the portion of taxes that goes towards funding public schools. I don’t have children, nor do I plan to, so I don’t get my money’s worth out of those services. However, I realize that educating our children is important to our future, so I’m okay with some of my taxes going towards education.

I would like to know what services Republicans/Conservatives are willing to give up in order to lower our taxes. Should we give up the paving of roads? Police and emergency medical services? Fire departments? Oh, I know! We should cut social services, because that is the one thing that doesn’t personally impact you; am I right?

I believe that people are generally good, honest, and want to be contributing members of society. Contrary to the disgusting belief that poor people live off the government by choice, because they’re just worthless and lazy, I understand that some people need a little help now and then. Call me naïve, but I don’t think most people are content to just laze around, living off of others. Most people who utilize social services do so as a means of bettering themselves and their lives; they in no way intend it to be a permanent solution.

I’m okay with my taxes going towards providing food, shelter, and medical services to those who need it. I’m thankful that those services were available to my twenty-four-year old mother when she found herself unable to feed her three young children on her own because the little money she made at her retail job went towards daycare and rent. Many people seem to think that the government shouldn’t spend our tax money on social programs, because charities can meet the needs of the unfortunate. That simply isn’t true. My youngest sister contacted a few charities to try to get help feeding her and her toddler and paying for housing while she was temporarily jobless, and she was denied services because she didn’t fit the criteria; she apparently wasn’t poor/needy enough. If being a jobless single mom isn’t poor enough, I don’t care to know what is.

I believe that health care is a right, not a privilege. It is shameful that the richest country in the world doesn’t make sure that all of its citizens have access to basic medical care. It’s deplorable that the health care industry focuses more on the almighty dollar than on taking care of people. The system needs to change.

I believe that hate speech/crime, anti-bullying, and anti-discrimination legislation wouldn’t be necessary if people would accept that we’re all different, and that’s okay. No one is better than anyone else simply because their privilege afforded them the opportunity to be born white, or male, or middle class, or rich, or in the good old U S of A. People who had the “misfortune” of being born gay, or black, or female, or to low income or uneducated parents are not lesser people, and we shouldn’t treat them like second class citizens. We are all people regardless of race, class, gender, or sexual orientation, and as such, we deserve certain rights under the constitution. No one should have to suffer chronic discrimination or hatred or torture simply because they are deemed by someone else to be different.

I believe that rational and logical thought, scientific evidence and facts, and education are key to making informed decisions. Voters carry a big responsibility, and you do yourself and others a great disservice by voting purely based on emotions or on what your church or others tell you to believe. Knowledge is power! Educate yourself on the issues, and make informed decisions based on your principles and morals. Morality and God do not go hand-in-hand; nonbelievers know and understand right from wrong too, and most of us are generally good no matter where our morals and principles came from.  If your morals and principles happen to match your religion or church’s, well I guess that’s pretty convenient; however, your way is not the only way and your beliefs are no more right or valid than anyone else’s.

I believe that abortion is a woman’s health issue, and it is a woman’s right to choose what is best for her. A small amount of women making poor choices (i.e. using abortion as birth control) does not mean we should take the right to choose away from all women. Women get abortions regardless of whether or not it’s legal, regardless of the risk to their lives or health, regardless of the morality of abortion, and regardless of what the fetus may or may not be. When abortion wasn’t legal, women still found ways to end their pregnancies, and unfortunately some of those methods were dangerous and ended in women dying. That is not okay, and we can never go back to that.

The life of a fetus is a subjective matter. One must first get life—i.e. be born—to have a right to life. Fetuses are different from born human beings in prefunds ways; the most fundamental of which is that a fetus is totally dependent on a woman’s body to survive. She is the only one who can keep it alive; therefore, she is the one who gets to make the choice on whether or not to carry her pregnancy to term. A fetus doesn’t have the right to use the woman’s body against her will. Can we force people to donate organs to keep others alive? No; we can’t, because only living, breathing, viable human beings have rights.

Many times, the decision to abort isn’t made from the perspective of not wanting the child, but rather knowing that one cannot provide a decent life for that child. I know women who’ve had abortions and women who’ve given their children up for adoption, and the women in the latter group are far more psychologically troubled over their decision than women in the former group, because there is more finality and closure to abortion than there is for adoption. I am sadder for all of the unwanted children living in orphanages in this world, wishing to be adopted into families, than I am for the potential children that were lost to abortion.

That’s right; I said potential children. That’s what a fetus is: a potential human life. Just as a 16 year old boy can’t walk into a bar and legally be served alcohol simply because he’s a “potential 21 year old,” we don’t extend rights, including the right to life, to a fetus simply because the potential for life exists.

Yes, I understand that it is oftentimes partially the woman’s fault for becoming pregnant, but in cases of rape it is not. For those who believe that abortion is a viable alternative only in cases where the victim was raped, I’d ask why it’s only in those cases that the mother’s life and choice is more important than a fetus’.  What gives you the right to decide that abortion is only appropriate in certain situations? Again, I say that this very private choice belongs in the hands of women.

I’d also argue that keeping our women uneducated, by not allowing comprehensive sex education in schools, further decreases her fault in accidentally getting pregnant. If she didn’t know how to prevent it, she can hardly take all of the blame for it. It is a proven fact that comprehensive sex education decreases pregnancy—especially teenage pregnancy—and does not increase the likelihood that a teenager will have sex. If we want to decrease abortions, we could start with teaching comprehensive sex education in our schools, but we cannot completely remove abortion as an option. Once again, if your religion, principles, or morals dictate that abortion is wrong, don’t get one, but you cannot take that choice away from women who do not hold the same beliefs as you.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd, I’m spent! If you’ve hung in there and read this whole post, you’re awesome and I thank you for indulging me. I am open to your thoughts and opinions, even if you don’t agree with me. As I said before, knowledge is power. I am open to hearing points of view that differ from my own, because you never know when you just might learn something. Don’t be afraid to start the dialogue by commenting below. I’m a big girl; I can take whatever it is you have to say to me. I hope you all have a fabulous weekend.

W for Words Are Powerful

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

Or something like that. We’re all familiar with this quote, or some variation of it, but have you ever stopped to consider its meaning? It’s not true. Not at all. As a former victim of emotional abuse, which is a story for another day, I speak from experience when I say that sometimes words can hurt more than sticks and stones (or punches and kicks for that matter). Bumps and bruises eventually heal, but the power of hateful, hurtful words can leave a lasting impact that’s sometimes imperceptible to everyone but the person to whom the words were said.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to downplay physical abuse. Having lost a sister to domestic violence, I know all too well how damaging it can be. I think most people are aware of that, because it's harder to deny the hard evidence left behind by physical abuse. Fewer people seem to know and understand the damage and long term impacts of verbal/emotional abuse.

One need only look at recent news headlines to see how much words truly can hurt. There seems to be an epidemic of gay teens, and some straight teens accused of being gay, committing suicide. Words obviously hurt them. So badly, in fact, that they saw death as the only escape from their pain. They were bullied—no harassed—to death. Day in and day out, these victims suffered in silence as they were tormented by the words of others; others who’d singled them out simply because they were different. It’s disgusting and disturbing and it makes me physically ill—my stomach and heart ache as I write this.

What has the world come to? Where are the parents of these bullies? How is this being allowed to happen? How has being accused of being gay, even if you’re not, become such a horrible thing that one would end his/her life over it? I just don’t get it. Why do people care so much about the sexual preferences of others?! It shouldn’t matter! Live and let live, for crying out loud! I seriously don’t get how or why people fear and loathe homosexuals so much. I know religion plays a role, and I don’t even want to get started down that path at the risk of offending the six or so regular readers I have out there. We are all human beings. Why can’t we treat each other as such?

We, as a society, need to fix this. We can start by teaching our children that words do hurt and it’s not okay to insult, humiliate, taunt, or demean anyone. Ever. We can stand up and show support for victims, and should intervene when we witness such harassment. As adults, we need to model good behavior for children. We need to show them that it’s important to treat others with respect, to be kind, and to not fear what we don’t understand, but rather to seek out knowledge to gain better understanding.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, parents need to step up and parent. You need to know what’s going on with your kids! I don’t care whether your kid is the victim or the bully; you have a responsibility as a parent to step in. You must protect your child; you cannot rely on the school or anyone else to do it for you. If you find out your kid is a bully, it’s your responsibility to teach your child that this terrible behavior will not be tolerated and cannot continue. Sometimes you just have to step up and be the authority figure instead of the friend!

Lest anyone think I’m leaving anyone out, let me assure you that I understand that straight kids are bullied too. I get that. I’ve witnessed it, and I was a victim myself. But the reality is that gay kids and teens are more likely to commit suicide as a result of the constant harassment and torture over their sexuality, because unlike the straight kids, they cannot change the thing that makes them different.

Yep. I said it. Homosexuality is not a choice. Homosexuals are born, not made. And until people understand and accept that fact, I fear this horror will not end. How many more lives need to be cut tragically short before people get it? I don’t care what you think your bible says, and I don’t care what your political party tells its sheeple to believe. You mustn't give in to the fear mongering. People are dying. This has to stop.

I don’t know what the answer is. I wish I did, but I don’t. All I know is that life is hard enough as it is. There is no good reason that any one individual should need to try to make the lives of others any harder. I'd like to believe that we're all more evolved than that, but maybe I'm naïve and too idealistic. Let’s all try to honor the simplicity of the golden rule, shall we? Treat others as you’d like to be treated. I think it really can be that simple.

U for Update

Hello, lovely reader. Since I haven’t posted in a while, I thought I give you all a quick update of what’s going on in Elle’s world:
School is going pretty well. Busy, as usual. I’m surprised at how quickly I’m catching on to a lot of the algebra concepts. I’ve somehow managed to maintain an “A” so far, but things get harder and harder every week, so we’ll see how it all plays out. This class is super accelerated, because it’s two classes—beginning algebra and intermediate algebra—jammed into one semester. We have lectures Monday and Wednesday evenings with the test(s) for the chapter(s) we’ve learned that week due Sunday at midnight (chapter tests are done online). It’s pretty intense.

The final for beginning algebra is next Wednesday, so I’ve got to find some time to study and practice problems from the first six chapters we’ve covered so far. Even though I’ve done really well on the weekly tests and the midterm, I still want to make sure that I’m comfortable enough with all of the material to do well on the final. In order to move on to intermediate algebra, one must get at least a “C” in beginning algebra, and judging by how far behind some of my classmates currently are, I think there are going to be very few of us (like maybe a dozen) moving on.

Psychology has been interesting so far, but I don’t like taking a Saturday class at all. Class meets from 1-4:30 Saturday afternoon, which seems entirely too long most of the time. The instructor spends the whole time lecturing on the chapter(s) we were assigned to read the previous week and possibly showing a video or two related to the material. Weekly homework is usually a chapter or two of reading, an online tutorial or two related to the material we’ve read (with a worksheet to fill out and hand in), and a video to watch and summarize (one typed paragraph). Overall, the class hasn’t been too tough.

I won’t take another Saturday class again unless I absolutely have to. I hate that half of my weekend is spent on homework and being in class. I typically spend Friday evening finishing up whatever assigned Psychology reading I haven’t finished yet and completing the online tutorials and video summaries. Then, I spend half of Saturday sitting in class listening to a lecture that’s just regurgitation of the material I’ve already read. It feels like a big waste of time.

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MusicMan’s sister and her husband were visiting from Hawaii recently, so we went over to his mom’s house for an obligatory family dinner. I wish I could be closer with my sister-in-law (SIL), but it’s hard when she lives so far away and her husband is a giant douchebag. Just to put it in perspective for you, the last time I saw sister-in-law’s husband (Dbag) was a couple years ago. They spent the Christmas after my sister was murdered here in Minnesota. In fact, the night they flew into town and we all met at my mother-in-law’s for family dinner, to meet in person for the first time ever, was the night my sister was killed.

At first, this bonded us all together quite quickly. I was surprised at the support sister-in-law and her Dbag gave me and the sadness they showed over the loss of my sister, whom they’d never met. But, a few days after Christmas and less than a week after I’d lost my sister, we had SIL and Dbag come to our house for the evening to have some drinks and hang out so that we could all get to know each other a little better.

During their visit, SIL’s husband (we refuse to call him brother-in-law because he’s such a giant douche), Dbag, spent part of the evening lecturing me about how we all had a responsibility now to make sure that Li’l D grows up to be a better person than his father (obviously!) and his mother (WTF?!)! He’s lucky I was still exhausted and in shock, because the conversation wouldn’t have gone as calmly as it did had I not been. In fact, thinking of it now makes me want to throat punch him, followed by a swift kick to the groin, while explaining to him what a great person my sister was and telling him that, if her son grows up to even be the slightest bit like her, he’ll be an amazing person, unlike Dbag.

During this recent visit, Dbag barely even spoke to MusicMan or me; except to tell us that one of our dogs, Lucy, is “out of control.” His reasoning was that she “attacked” his dog. First of all, his dog isn’t socialized to other dogs; unlike Lucy, who has regular daycare visits and overnight stays, resulting in her being a well socialized dog. As a result, SIL’s dog doesn’t really know how to behave around other dogs. Second of all, Lucy didn’t attack his dog. She tried to play with his dog, his dog snapped at her, and she responded in kind. A little tussle ensued, which MusicMan and I have learned to just let go for a bit to see if the dogs will work it out because usually they work it out themselves and everything’s fine.

Apparently, Dbag was unaware that dogs should be allowed to work it out (as long as no one was being hurt, which no one was), and he picked Lucy up by her harness and tossed her off of his dog. I was appalled, but held my tongue, keeping Lucy with me the rest of the evening. A few days later, Lucy started to squeal if she was touched the wrong way and she refused to jump up onto the couch or the bed. We knew something was wrong, but we didn’t know what. A vet visit and $75 later, we found out that she had a pinched nerve in her shoulder, likely a result of someone picking her up by her harness as though it were a handle. Thankfully, after a week of rest and medication to reduce pain and swelling, she was back to her old self again.

Needless to say, I was livid. I wanted MusicMan to march over to his mother’s house with the vet bill and a few harsh words to Dbag or I was going to do it. Instead, we decided it best to inform his mom as to what had happened, and MusicMan left Lucy at home when we went to dinner a week later to say goodbye to his sister and Dbag (lucky for him, I had class that night and couldn’t attend dinner at mother-in-law’s). Mother-in-law, who excels at passive-aggression, made a few digs at Dbag here and there during dinner, according to MusicMan, but I’m still not happy that no one (including myself) said anything directly to him about the fact that he had injured our dog and he is a giant douchebag.

I don’t typically hold grudges, but I’m so done with Dbag. Though I love and respect my mother-in-law, I will no longer run to her house for obligatory family dinners simply because sister-in-law and Dbag are in town, granting us simpletons the honor of basking in the glow of their presence. No thanks. Despite what they seem to think, and how other family members seem to act about their visits, they are not special. Since they can’t even manage to thank us for switching our schedules around to take the time to visit with them while they’re here, nor can they seem to manage to even fake enjoyment over seeing us, I see no reason to make a big deal out of their visits. The limited free time I have can be spent on much, much better things and with much, much better people.

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I’ve had a serious case of writer’s block lately, which is why I haven’t been posting as much. My carpal tunnel seems to be flaring up quite a bit lately too, which sends shooting pains up my right arm and the back of my hand and has my fingers constantly cramping and aching too. No good!

MusicMan has finally uploaded all of the Lake Tahoe photos, so I’m going to pick some of my favorites to post soon. I hope all is well in your world, lovely reader!