Class

I just ran across the headline of Princess Catherine dressing in a strapless dress.  She looks so classy in everything she wears, and in the way she behaves in public.  It would just be a nice change if Prince William and Princess Catherine could be models for our youth, and for many of the celebrities in the headlines.  Princess Di' had the same class.  This is not something which has to be bought, one has to be trained in, it is common sense and being sensible.  Take a look at one red carpet event and the women pictured and then look at Princess Catherine in her events.  I believe Michelle O'Bama has this class, but few others who are photographed regularly.  We should strive to be more of a nation which emits class and demands respect because of our behavior, not trying to shove our way down other's throats and looking like trash and ho's in every chance of getting your picture taken. 

Take a browse of pictures on a Google search, and just determine the way you personally feel after comparing the images.

Wasted time…wasted people…

I just spent the last two hours of my time looking at pictures of celebrities who are supposed to be trying to fit in to normalcy of “our” everyday life.  Interesting concept, if you can wrap your head around it.  These are people who can have crystals adorn their tubs just because they will be taking a lot of baths…people who can have bird shit, no joke, put on their face to make them appear younger (and once I heard this, also appear extremely stupid and sick!)…and people who can get up and go anywhere, any time, in any ride they choose (well, within reason of a Mercedes, private jet, or the like).  They are young and old, no discrimination as to age; they are from all races; and they are actors, singers, models, and even jail birds.  They are people who have been fired from a job for talking serious trash about their bosses and their job, and then get rewarded handsomely for doing so; they are would be actresses who can’t keep out of trouble for a simple $2,500 theft and find themselves back and forth in court, and then…suddenly on the cover of Playboy!  Lastly, there were tons of Moms and Dads portrayed as they spent absurd amounts of money on their baby’s (not even out of diapers yet folks!) rooms, travel gear, caretakers, and clothes.

You may wonder why I spent this much time pondering all of this ridiculous flaunting of money, yeah, well so do I!  I think it has to do with a year end tally of what was this year about.  We have the group I can’t even remember their name, something about Wall Street, but (Occupy Wall Street, I knew it would come to me…) I, as of yesterday’s ABC News broadcast, have no clear idea what the hell their main purpose is.  Some compare it to Zen; it will come to you as you meditate.  I think we need to be more specific guys, especially if you are going to give up warmth and shelter for this.  Even the Hippies had a sounding purpose: Make Love Not War!  Now people are being moved, against their will mind you as the police are trying to get them off the streets before bad weather hits.  But, again, why are you there?  What are you trying to say, in one sentence without vulgarity, to the world, or just to the United States Congressmen and women?

Then we have the man in Arizona who was shot in his own home, yes he had a gun in his hand but as the SWAT Team Leader said to the press, it was in the safety position.  He was shot over being a possible, and I repeat possible, dealer in Marijuana.  Wow! When did Marijuana become such a drug of target for the DEA or even local law enforcement handling it can result in your death in front of your wife and child, and no probable cause to even shoot anybody! No folks, I am not letting this one go.  The only probable cause mentioned in the report, mind you one report which was quickly submerged under a ton of gossip about Kim and Kris, LiLo, and many others, were weak, very weak, and even weaker than Kim’s reason for divorcing Kris! A cop pulled over this man in his car once, and his cousin sitting next to him in the passenger seat had a small pipe used for weed, and had weed under his feet.  The other was his cousin, or some relative, had a truck, which when pulled over near his own driveway, not the victim’s, had plastic wrap in the back of the truck, “…the same used to package Marijuana…”  Just checkin’ here, but did the real smart Arizona police officers and Court know that same wrap is also used in restaurants to wrap to-go meals, to wrap things to be refrigerated, and can be used for at least 1,000 other things other than wrapping Marijuana bundles? The victim, and he is the victim as well as his two surviving sons and his wife, is a Marine who retired just recently with honors who did not one, but two tours of duty in Iraq.  This is what he got when he got home, got a real job, and was trying to just fit in and take care of his family.  So much for the middle class. 

So, we have covered the uber-rich and stupid, and the middle class, and some people we don’t know where they fit.  What about the rest of us?  I think we are referred to as the 99% now.  There is a whole website devoted to this “I am one of the 99” who supposedly don’t have a job, can’t find work, are losing their houses due to all of this, and who also have school loans out the yin-yang (no cultural disparaging meant there).  We have the news telling us finally the real truth about the Unemployment Rate: guess what, it is not what is reported by the rich and powerful Political big-wigs.  Really?  I am telling you right here, right now, all of us working stiffs knew what the real unemployment number meant a long time ago, we didn’t need some fancy news correspondent to tell us the number shown on the screen is not representative of the real number of unemployed. 

So, as we end this year, and I end this diatribe of my mumblings, I see the uber-rich not giving a shit about anything but themselves, except for the occasional ‘give them bone’ concert or check (U2 not included in this slam).  Somehow we have had multiply, not one or two, problems with exotic animals getting loose and roaming the streets.  We have one man being blamed for multiply (who knows where it all ends) sexual abuse cases which is destroying a very good college.  We have a Marine who served his country, while his family served him and waited for him, murdered by the Arizona Peace Officers simply because one of their guys fell and they thought he had been shot by the Marine.  We have protestors, not many mind you, all over the place but no one watching really knows what the protesting is all about.  Last but not least, we have a President, like him or not, who is trying to get people to cross the lines, but these uber-rich Congress men and women just can’t seem to move their feet over that line.  In fact, they have to meet in separate buildings to discuss the same issues.  And who is paying for this? Don’t you dare raise your hand and say “not me”, ‘cause you is payin’ big time for these fat cats to sit and argue.  Come on now, even the Queen is taking a hard hit here, and she is still smiling? 

Basically, this year sucked!  What was accomplished…please tell me something was accomplished…all I see is stupidity abounding more and more.  Come one people, even on Dr. Phil, people getting “botox” from some chick who has an ass to double or triple the size of Kim’s, and she uses cement!  Are we all eating from the stupid box this year?  The only people not eating from the stupid box are the people up there on the hill arguing while we pay for their fancy hotel rooms, cars, travel, houses, servants, etc… 

A generation of influences

Looked out the corner of my eye today,

As I read my book

You were preparing your Christmas cards

Writing in each one,

Something specific for that person or family

But writing it all the same

Not typing it on the computer and then

Printing them off the printer.

When you are gone

Who will do the Christmas cards like you

With so much care

So much thought

So much individuality?

I thought of how I don’t send x-mas cards

I send e-cards, and or call the person

I don’t have many people left to even to that with.

I do send my cards through the printer with my typed name,

And those names of my animal crew,

All printed nice and neat,

Since the animals haven’t gotten writing down yet

And mine is working on being a Ph.D., thus unreadable.

To my credit, I do still send out Thank You cards,

And personally write in those.

But this is something you taught me.

I will be missing a lot when you step to the other realm

As we will all be missing a lot when your generation is gone.

We must hold on to the influences of each and every one of you,

Please keep the cards coming.

Insomnia

Insomnia

Here is the conundrum my doctor left me with: I am to tell her how many hours I sleep each night, but as based on her advice, not to look at the clock since I have insomnia problems.
So, now I shall lay awake at night wondering how many hours I am awake and how many I have slept without any gauge to help me.  I think the correct term for this is "guesswork". 
I guarantee I will get less sleep now than when she asked me to gauge how many hours I was sleeping without any actual method of tracking the time.   

The Earth--The Mother

Today I had the weirdest feeling of something I wanted to do. 

I could see myself laying face down on the ground, which was hard dry dirt.  I grabbed the dirt in my hands, and it being so dry, went through my fingers smoothly. 
I then felt as if I wanted to push my hands in further to the soil, and it was pliant and obeyed my hands.
I pushed further and further into the earth, the soil getting more moist as I went down. 
I finally found a heart: I could feel the warmth, the love, the tenderness.
It was Mother Earth: She had been waiting for me to find her; waiting for me to realize I had to dig through the dirt which was all around me. 
Once I found her, I was invited to stay, to curl up next to her, to sleep.
My body followed the path my hands had made, and soon I was next to her. 
I slept in peace, knowing I was finally safe.

My Afternoon Nap

I woke this afternoon from a nap of such a resting magnitude; it was hard to bring myself to the fact of needing to be of the world again.

It is irrelevant what the dream was composed of; just images to be washed away with the water of wakefulness.  The part of which I so wanted to hold onto was the feeling of physical ability; the ability to walk around without concern for pain, the ability to do a job I used to do quite well, and to be able to socialize and truly feel happy.

I was able to wear clothes I dearly love, but which I haven’t worn in over 5 years due to my illnesses keeping me in the house.  I was able to use my mind to interact with the customers who were famous, but as my normal real life persona would have done, I just chatted and joked with them, and then left without making a big deal of who they were.  A couple of men I know in real life, but can’t recall right now, were helping me redesign part of a store.  They had respect for me, and we were all working as equals.

Strength, joie de vivre, and happiness were mine for a short while. Then, along came the water: gently washing my chalk painting away, yet throwing me to shore with the strength of a tsunami. Since I am not afraid of water, but cherish it and understand it, I look forward to the next wave into the dreamland of my mind.  

The universe

I believe at one time a person starts to see the Universe in a more “whole” perspective.  Let me offer an example:

In taking the dog out one evening, I glanced at the moon.  It was full, the clouds made a type of halo around it, but not over it.  In short, it was an awesome full moon, and picture perfect.  Now, what I saw was also the Stratosphere Tower slightly to the left of it, with it glowing red point sticking up in the sky.  Together, the moon and the neon of the Stratosphere, was just inspiring; it was as if nature and man were somehow in the same realm and not at odds.  I found such beauty in the sight, and if I thought the digital camera would have done justice to the scene, I surely would have snapped lots of frames.  As it is, my 35mm, which I know would have captured it beautifully, have not yet arrived from Alaska (another story for another time).  

            I came in and asked my Mom to join me in this awesome display of beauty.  She came willingly enough, but upon seeing it, commented she just didn’t like the neon in the scene.  This is my point: she missed the dichotomy of the scene, the reason it was so beautiful.  We all have seen tons of beautiful sunsets, especially in the South West, but with the neon of the Stratosphere opposite the natural moon, it was spectacular. 

            She simply did not see the Universe, man made and natural, as one.  Until a person can enjoy the beauty of all things together, a person is still growing spiritually.  I don’t intend to sound like some new-age guru, I have just realized within the past year or so I have matured so much on a different level.  Being 48 years old, there is not a lot left to mature physically, unless we are talking downward.  Obtaining a Master’s degree also mentally matures a person as well.  I reason, and have had quite a lot of time to do so, that I have been stripped of a great deal of my material life so that I may finally gain this spiritual (for lack of a better term) maturation. 

            There is another part of this Universal acceptance which I have come to realize of recent as well: phases of life as a big picture. 

The Family Tree...filled with squirrels

        What really scares a person about ghosts and the supernatural?  Is it just the unknown? Is the fear based in something deeper, some spiritual DNA question?  Or, does a person only show fear of the supernatural when it happens to them directly?

        My family has had lots of encounters of the supernatural: ghosts, Ouija boards, automatic writing, voices, and premonitions.  In growing up, I was never afraid of the unknown, not afraid of death, and no fear of the monster under the bed.  Perhaps some families, mine for example, of some sort of spiritual DNA, which makes some of us closer or able to see supernatural events or beings.  Like my Mom and sister, I have read and watched all kinds of scary, horror and science fiction movies.  Well, I never was able to watch the Exorcist and other movies which show children being possessed.  My sister sure made up for what I lacked in courage: she was all into Nightmare on Elm Street, the whole Jason Vorhees movies, and some really gory scary movies I couldn’t even look at the video covers or watch the commercials. 

        My Mom’s grandmother, on her mother’s side, had premonitions and openly talked with her daughter and grand-daughter about them.  Now we are talking like 1920’s, a time when people who lived on a farm didn’t really talk of these types of things: supernatural was considered evil.  The Gatsby girls in all of high society, and as usual, the younger generation, all talked of the supernatural.  For the younger more citified group, séances and Ouija boards were a great entertainment.  But, for the farm folk, Christianity was the rule lived by and supernatural events were of the Devil.  That is probably why my Mom didn’t have a lot of information with regard to if the premonitions were accurate, or any other spiritual events. 

        My Mom’s mom, my grandma, well, let’s just say, I am not sure what was really supernatural or what was a screw loose.  She claimed, and this was later in her life, to be able to contact spirits via automatic writing.  Mom thinks she was just a little off by this time, and she was kind of seeing things that weren’t there and hearing voices. 

        What I specifically remember about all of this time period is one time when she scared the b-Jesus out of me.  I was younger, probably about 7 or 8 years old.  We had went to Grandma’s little one bedroom apartment, where you had to share the bathroom with about three other people on the same floor.  She was talking to Mom about what this entity had told her.  I was ease dropping, as I continue to do quite well, and just said out loud how I didn’t believe it.  Grandma decided she needed to prove it to me, prove to me she had conversations with this spirit.  She picked up this steno book, with green lined paper in it, placed her hand with the pen in it on the paper, and just kind of went into a trance writing.  As she was writing, I was reading it, what I could read as it was real hard to figure out what some of the words were. 

        The entity in which my Grandma was talking to apparently choose to take the form of a moth at times and at other times, was invisible but acted like a fairy.  This particular time it was invisible, and was upset because there were non-believers around.  When challenged by what I was saying, “he” told Grandma that he was on the TV antenna and was going to move it to prove he was there.  I was a little freaked by this, went and checked the antenna to make sure there were no little creatures there, and then sat back down.  Then, as I sat there watching, the frigging TV antenna moved.  Now I don’t remember how far it moved, or even exactly what it did, but I was scared, sure there was some evil little fairy there, and wanted to go home.  As memory serves me, I think my sister who is five years younger than me, was crying.  Mom gathered our little butts up and we went home. 

        Mom tells me now that Grandma used to tell her she was talking to a moth, which was supposedly this creature.  She would hear voices, or him talking to her, so it wasn’t just in writing they communicated.  Mom said she never liked it, always felt like Grandma was kind of out of it, coming from way left field, and that there was probably something psychologically wrong with her at this time.  She died years later of lung cancer, smoked all her life, and for her, it killed her. 

        Mom also tells of when she was younger and lived in Butler, Missouri.  Her Mom and Dad moved into this big two story house.  The second floor was ideally supposed to be where Mom’s bedroom and playroom were.  She is an only child, thus didn’t have to worry about sharing space with a sibling.  Mom hated the second floor, more than she hated the basement or any other part of the whole property.  She said she would follow Grandma around the house, when she was younger, while all the chores were being done, but she would never stay on the second floor when Grandma left. 

        When she got a little older, about 9 years old, she really did try to conquer the second floor.  She stayed one night up there, was scared to death, and never stayed up there again.  Mom would take toys up there to play, trying to fight the fears she had, but would get scared and decide to leave.  When she would get to the stairs, she would feel this force try to keep her upstairs, but once she would take a step downwards, she would feel a push as if she was being pushed down the stairs. 

        There were dreams of an old man, with an evil grin, who would sit on a bed and offer her a cherry pie.  She said she always felt the man was evil, had evil intents.  Later, after trying to interrupt this dream, she came to the conclusion that the man wanted to “bust her cherry”, thus the cherry pie, bed, and evil intent. 

        In the same house, but in her regular bedroom, Mom felt there was a black panther who lived under her bed.  She had an old hospital bed, so it was a little higher than a normal child’s bed.  At night, she would feel the animal move out from under the bed, see him pace back and forth at the end of the bed, and then feel him go back under the bed.  There were a couple of times she actually saw his green eyes and felt his hot breath on her, but he didn’t come that close often.  She always felt a sense of fear of him, but also that he was there to protect her.  The Black Panther was only in this house, never seemed to follow her or show up anywhere else.  To this day, she is very emphatic about the reality of the cat, and does not entertain rational explanations of a child’s vivid imagination. 

       

Thus far, I have a Grandmother who was hearing voices and talking to moths, and my mother who lived in a house where an evil old cherry pie eating man lived with a black panther with a bony back.  Have I established the spiritual DNA for my family yet?  No! Continue to indulge me further and perhaps I can convince you yet.

        Eventually my mother grew up and became a working young adult.  She moved to Kansas City, Missouri, as there was really no job market for anyone in Butler past the age of 18, fast food or the local grocery store, or anyone who couldn’t make a living with a skill, such as her father who was a mechanic with a garage on the property.  Kansas City is about 66 miles from Butler, a good day journey on the local Greyhound. 

        Mom’s favorite grandfather was dying of prostrate cancer.  For a while, he was staying in Mom’s old bedroom, yes the one where the Black Panther used to visit her.  He stayed there because her Mom was able to take care of him during the day.  While he was at the home of her youth, Mom came home to see him.  At the time, he wasn’t that bad, no one knew when he would he would die, and there was not a hospice facility around.  Her grandfather stayed in her room until it was obvious he was going to die and needed constant medical care.  When Mom visited she didn’t think he was going to die any time soon, she never said her “goodbyes.” 

        Mom had returned to Kansas City, at the insistence of her job demands.  She had been back to her adult life for about a month, keeping contact with her family in Butler the best she could.  Remember, we are talking 1950’s here, no cellular phones, in fact, she didn’t even have a phone in her apartment, had to use a payphone.  So, she didn’t keep daily contact with her family, and even if she did, she couldn’t leave immediately and be with her grandfather before he died.  To leave would take coordination from work, with money, and a bus schedule.  Thus, her grandpa died without her being there to say her farewell.  

        She attended the funeral, way easier to prepare for and to get time off of work for, and then stayed in her old bedroom she shared with a black panther.  While sleeping one night, she awoke feeling something was looking at her.  Fully expecting to see her old friend/monster-under-the-bed black panther, she was surprised to see her grandfather.  He stood at the foot of the bed, just looking at her and smiling.  His smile was not the same as the evil-cherry-pie-eating-old-man-upstairs, his was a warm smile. 

        She was awake immediately, and moved the covers off of her.  Her grandfather walked out of the room, towards the living room.  Mom rose from her bed, and followed him to the living room.  Upon leaving her room, she realized he was gone.  When she returned to her room, she smelled the cancerous odor he had while he stayed in her room.  She inspected the floor around the foot of her bed and discovered a wet spot, it smelled vile, and she is convinced the spot was the cancer left by her grandfather.  So, in her own way, she did get to say fare the well to her grandfather: there was closure if you will. 

        Mechanic Street, Kansas City, Missouri, was the sight of another very frightful experience for my Mom.  She rented a second floor of an old house with a friend and her husband.  The trio lived there in relative harmony.  There was no funny stuff: no drugs, no wild parties, and no sexual liaisons.  Mom always slept with her door shut: her room was at the end of the hall. 

Eighteen through Thirty

I have read all kinds of stories which relate the follies of the tender age of eighteen through thirty. How people have loves which seem so intense and strange, so deep and connected, and then find the love is nothing but passion in the sheets and a fool’s attempt at escaping the inevitable.  So many of these stories also include heaving drinking, drugs, and going to foreign countries and living off the land basically.  Well, I am writing to say I did none of this. 

            I wonder at times, while reading these stories, if I missed something, if I would have turned out different, more fun, more reflective, or just ashamed with conflict thrown in for good measure.  I never had a love I met at a beach and then moved in with him; never drank until I simply passed out; and never even tried pot until I was in my 40’s and didn’t feel anything once I finally tried it. 

            I did, on the other hand, hang out with people from time to time during this age of enlightenment, if one could name it as so.  I remember being at the local lake with some friends of my roommate’s who all drank and did so much pot in the afternoon we were there, they didn’t even finish cooking the hamburgers, and since nobody thought of bringing a lantern, we bit into raw hamburger.  I finally went to the lake side, set up my lawn chair and waited out the rest of the day just going in and out of sleep.  The next day, I wound up having to drive someone else’s car with three drunken people in the back seat.  There was lots of pulling over while they took turns throwing up, and even a couple of ‘barfs on the run’.  After I got everyone home, and found the house where the car belonged, I called my mom and asked her to come and get me.  I had no idea where my roommate was, and frankly, didn’t want to talk or see her right away.

            This whole even took on an even morose tone when I finally got to mom’s and told her what had happened just prior to being talked into going to this stupid lake party: I had lost my cat suddenly.  My cat was small, she never grew very big, but she was like a Chihuahua as far as personality, no dog no matter how big was going to scare her, and she was in charge, and all our five big dogs seemed to know this and didn’t question her authority.  On the morning my roommate was preparing to go to the party she had asked me to go to all week, stating reasons such as: I never go anywhere and have fun; I never party; I am boring; I should live life; etc, my cat went into convulsions and fell off the couch.  I was scared and had no idea what to do.  She stopped for a while, and my roommate swore she was okay, and I should now go with her.  Then the convulsions started again.  I finally packed my cat up in my Valiant and drove her across town to the vet I trusted.  I had called ahead since it was a Saturday and I wanted to make sure he was there, not some newbee.

            The vet I wanted was there, and she had gotten real quite on the long drive over to his office.  He looked at her briefly, took her back and did some x-rays, and then he came back into the little waiting room with the cold metal table between us.  He didn’t bring my cat back.  He said she had severe brain damage, and from what he could guess, it was from when she had such a bad case of ear mites when a boyfriend had bought her from a local pet shop.  At the time, she had to be put to sleep so they could wash out all the ear mites and then she had to stay at the vet’s for a couple of days.  Now, he said he guessed this ear mite issue was also why she never grew to a normal size cat, and figured without a doubt, was the reason for the brain damage and seizures.  He told me, while looking across the cold metal table, almost as if he was afraid to get too close to me and liked the distance between us, she was dying right now, they wouldn’t even need to give her anything, and she was just going rather fast.  He asked if I wanted to see her again, and at the time, I said “no” because I had seen her all the way to the vet’s office, seen her eyes roll back in head, and seen her look dead already. I left the office with her collar, and drove home.

            My roommate had a few friends at the house by now who were all going with her to the lake.  She ever so briefly asked what had happened, and I told her with no tears.  I have found it hard to cry in front of people, and especially people I knew would not care.  Without skipping a beat, my roommate then decided this was just the reason I needed to go with them to the lake, to cheer me up! So, in haste, my roommate got all the stuff I would need together in a hemp basket for me, and somehow I was in her car headed to the lake without ever really knowing what happened.  I wasn’t really aware of how many people were in our little crowd until the next day, and wasn’t even really aware of where I was until I bit into the raw hamburger.  This is what led me to the rocky beach just dozing in the sun, I cried under my hat, and then would fall asleep, and wake again, move the chair back as the tide was coming in, and would cry again and fall asleep.

            When it came time for us to sleep, I was squeezed in between two others in the back of the blue station wagon, which I would later drive home three of the partiers of which I never learned their names.  I was hurting quite a bit, and it wasn’t just my heart, it was my body, I was really aching.  The next day when I finally got to my mom’s, I found I had burnt my body so bad; I had sunburn under my bathing suit.  I was aching because of the severity of the sunburn.  I couldn’t wear anything but my bathing suit for days, and found it extremely painful to even sit down wherein my burnt legs would fold and skin would touch skin and just send tendrils of pain throughout my whole body again.  I called in sick to work for three days, and on the fourth was finally able to put on some normal clothes and go to work.  I still had the headaches, the body aches, and the pain of clothing touching all the red skin, which was by now starting to blister quite grossly.  My boss said the burn looked so bad even now I should go to emergency and get treatment.  I denied it was as bad as all that, and went on with my days.  At night I would just go home, get naked and lay in bed.  My roommate, in her wisdom, tried to get me to do some pot, telling me it would ease the pain, the tried to get me to do some coke, as it would ease the pain, then told me if I did some new drug, which I think was meth, it would lessen the pain as well.  What lessened my pain was just lying on my bed for hours until sleep finally found me.  But this was only lessening the pain of the immediate physical issue of the burn, not of the deep pain which was building in my heart.

            Months later, while at work, I started just getting really snappy with everyone, even the customers.  My boss noticed this behavior immediately, and knew it was not like me, so she kindly told me I could take the rest of the afternoon off.  I remember feeling paranoid about this, as if she was going to get rid of me, and then cajoled myself out of this by looking rationally at the past, and the future promised to me by her and the company. I went home, my roommate was gone, thankfully, and so I just had the house to myself.  I went into my room and then just sat on the floor.  Then all the pain of losing my cat came out, and the guilt I had for dismissing seeing her before I left the office, and then going out with a bunch of fools, all came to the surface.

            The next day I went to work with red swollen eyes, but no one said anything, not even my roommate, and I believe my boss figured I needed time right then to release some demons. 

            This was my only real experience of letting go and running with a pack of wild dogs.  I never did it again, moved out soon after that experience, and haven’t spoken of or heard about my roommate since. 

            Later, in my late thirties and forties, I worked as a paralegal.  I had to write many motions, answers, and depositions, all in an effort to explain our client’s actions, behaviors, and desires.  In doing this, I realized some people, many in fact, never leave the stage of experimentation, of trying on a suit of clothes but never taking them off, just wearing them out.  I met lots of people who really were old looking, even to me and I am not good at guessing ages, and realized from their file, they were much younger than me. I understand now why people always think I look so young: in comparison to others out there, I do actually look younger, and as one man put it, cleaner, than most people.  

            I am not going to bore you and say I am a born again, or I have found Christ, or I had some revelation, because I have none of these, in fact believe in my own system of spirituality which doesn’t fit and does fit into so many religions and belief systems.  I didn’t go all organic and become a tree hugger.  I didn’t move to another country to find myself. I have just lived my life mostly in this stinking city, getting married, divorced, married, and yet divorced again; had a horse, sold the horse, bought another horse, sold the horse again; lived on my own, lived with a boyfriend, lived on my own, then lived with my mother a couple of times; and had friends come in and leave again, then some come back.  I have worked on my education, which now puts me over half way through a Ph.D. simply because there wasn’t work for me, and now because my health won’t allow me to work in my profession, or any profession which is going to require daily attendance on a schedule.  I have found out I have Systemic Lupus, then discovered I had knee problems which should have been corrected when I was growing up, but welfare children don’t get special attention, then more recently, found out many of my new symptoms are related to Fibromyalgia.  As much as I had drugs, I now also have to make sure I have pain pills, but I am so scared of becoming addicted (although I have never been addicted to anything in my life, not even fun), I take one only when I really think the pain is bad and is not going to lessen anytime soon. They don’t let me forget what is going on in real life, just as drinking never let me forget my inhibitions either. Forgot to mention the fun little disease which is common for Lupus patients, and that is Factor V Leiden.  Just a little thing really, it just makes my blood clot more than the average person, which used to involve taking rat poison in small doses (commonly referred to as Coumadin) to control this disease and have my blood tested many times, sometimes weekly.  This little side effect of Lupus has cost me the possibility of having insurance at any small business, as the cost for me on the plan is about $800 a month at last checking.  So, I am relegated to having no insurance to pay for the needed knee replacement I need on both knees now, and when I am able to go back to work, I have to work for a large company or a County, State, or Federal agency.  Thus, the reason I have the time to sit here now and write, as I am waiting for a disability claim to go through to qualify me for the insurance I need to get the knee surgery.  Once this is done, I will be able to be more active and

buy a horse,

again.

           

            In reflection, I never had the time, or never took the opportunities, to be young, rebel, try things out, get a tattoo, but I did eat a raw hamburger and got at least 3^rd degree burns on my body trying it once.

A letter to Kim, Paris, and all the wealthy people who have nothing to do with their money...

I don't know if Kim or her agent even read this stuff, but in the mere chance they do, here are my comments.  Kim, have you read the papers lately, seen the news: have you any idea of all the people who have lost everything in tornado's, hurricanes, and flooding?  Have you seen how many people are still unemployed in the United States, how many children are homeless, how many orphan children there are due the economic crisis we have been suffering?  Have you been paying attention to anything that has been going on around you?  And that is not even counting the people in Japan and other countries who are suffering. 
What you need is a good slap across the face and a reality check!  Trace Adkins lost his house in a fire, and all he was concerned about was that his family and pets got out safe.  You are so concerned with yourself it is just downright pathetic you call yourself an American.  We have vets and their families which need help. 
You need to check yourself because America thinks you are a rich bitch, and many other horrible things, but in no case does anyone think you are awesome or cool for wanting all that you have listed on your registry and the requirement you made of having a big ring.
THINK OF SOMEONE ELSE OTHER THAN YOURSELF just for a bit, and you will find you are happier than having all the expensive stuff you are asking for and the stuff you have. 

Ghosts.^.^

Well, we have a ghost in the house.  We thought at first it was just a ghost cat, as Mom and I have felt little feet walking across our beds at night, and it has never really bothered us. 
But now I believe there is another ghost, one who is mischievous and just likes to play games.  But once I catch them at something, or attribute some weird occurrence to them, the ghost starts something else. 

At first it was stuff being moved in the bathroom which was mine.  How I know this? Well, I am somewhat OCD, so when my stuff is messed with in the bathroom (bottles not in the right location) it bothers me a great deal.  Then I said, "...it must be the ghost moving these bottles around...", and it all stopped.  Then I kept finding all my certificates and diplomas titled and all messed up on the wall.  After fixing them a couple of times, and checking out any other explanation, I gave the ghost the credit, and it stopped.  Then my computer would just come on while I would be sitting next to it, or in the other room.  Once I checked the computer for all possible explanations, I chalked it up to the ghost again, and it all stopped. 

Now there hasn't been anything recently, so we just wait.  It is not scary or harmful to us or the animals, so it is okay.  The ghost cat doesn't bother Wizard, even though he must know there is something there, as he will be the only other animal on the bed, but he doesn't seem to care either. 

So, no real scary ghost stories, but stay tuned...

Friends????

I have been feeling lousy for over a week now: not physically so much as emotionally.  I have really needed a friend to step-up to the plate and just contact me, email, phone, whatever.  Yet, it feels as if I am the last thought on any one's mind. 

I have emailed all my friends, and even my friend in 'Vegas I had called about a month or so ago.  She told me as soon as Spring Break was over with her kids, she would call me and we would get together.  She has told me so many times I am her best friend, but I just don't see it.  I know she talks to others throughout the week, yet she never seems to find time for me.  When I have challenged this friendship, she always tells me I am her best friend, and she doesn't want me to think otherwise.  So, after this last month of waiting for her to call me to get together, have come to the conclusion, I am last on her list of people she wants to talk to or be with.

I would chalk it up to my not feeling good with all this crap going on with me physically, but I know that is not so.  When we do go out, I don't sit and bitch and complain: we actually laugh a lot.  I always have a good time, and feel better for the time I spend with her, but I guess she doesn't, thus she does not make time for us to get together.

I have needed some communication from my bro this past couple of weeks, but he has been too busy with his kid.  I understand him wanting to spend as much quality time with him as he can, as his ex-wife keeps him away from the kids as much as possible.  I just wish he had time to drop me a line.  Maybe he is tired of my woes as well.

So, this last couple of weeks not only have I had new things going on with me as far as physical pains, but I have also felt lost and really alone.

Oh, poor pitiful me!

Homelessness

I read a story today of the AP and it really touched my heart.  I then read the comments, and was confused as to mean-ness of some, and the total ignorance of others.  Let me tell you a bit about the article, and then I will mention where I stand on it.  I would welcome comments from any who read this.

There is a young woman, about 23 years of age, and she had her own apartment (including a big dog and a piano), she had a good job, and she was independent.  Then the economy crashed, and she got caught in the crossfire and crashed with it.  She lost her job, and held on as long as she could with part-time jobs, temp jobs, and unemployment.  Finally, all the money was gone, no more jobs were calling. 
She moved in with her parents for a short time, but realized soon thereafter she couldn't stay with them, for reasons of her own.  She then stayed in a small trailer which she inherited after the owner committed suicide.  She moved it to the only place she could afford, which was free at the time, a Wal-Mart parking lot.  There were lots of other homeless people living there in trailers, cars, and make-shift shelters.  As she stayed there, she met two doctors who had such bad experiences with the economy, they were left to live in a car.  She met others who had advanced degrees, who had been teachers, people from all walks of life, who had been hit by the horrible economy problems, and had lost everything but the clothes on their back.
As things worked out, her place was taken from her as a Wal-Mart executive who was visiting moved everyone out, but in two months time she was able to get her trailer back.  She had to have her dog boarded, but the people who are keeping him are people she found through Twitter, and have helped lots of people.  After her trailer was found inhabitable, she had to move to somewhere else, and the people who were boarding her dog offered her a place in one of their sheds.  She says there are others out there as well, and when any inspector comes by, they all have to leave, but most come back. 
During all this time, the one thing she despertly held onto was her laptop.  She needed to have a link to the world, and anyone who has gone without a computer in this day and age, knows how life is cut off from you if you cannot access a computer.  Sometimes an online application is all an employer will take, and other services from the State and County are often not available unless you have computer access.
Someone decided she should write of her experiences as they progressed, hopefully having a happy ending.  Well, she started writing a blog, using the WiFi access at a local Starbucks.  People started to follow her writings, and now she has published a book.  She states she was given an advance, not much, but she used almost all of it in repaying friends who had helped her.  So, she is still homeless, jobless, and is struggeling. 
There is a glich in the system because if you are single, have no children, and are not legally classified as disabled, you do not qualify for many of the programs in the state and county.  So, one cannot qualify for food stamps to eat, medical assistance, housing assistance, and many other programs. 

So, now for my story for all those who felt this girl should have lived with her parents; that she was lying; that she was lazy; or that she was just stupid.

I was working as a paralegal, had a Bachelor's degree, my own apartment, my own vehicle paid off, and maybe not a piano, but a horse which is just a valuable to me.  The economy went bust in Las Vegas, I lost my job.  I immediately looked for work again, and put out over 100 applications, which is highly unusual for me.  I am used to, and maybe a little spoiled, getting a call within my first few applications and then an interview, and hired shortly thereafter.  It just wasn't working this way, and I couldn't figure out why.  I worked at a friends office for a short time, but the economy hit him as well, and I couldn't stay there.  I used up all my unemployment benefits, and also tried to work with temp agencies, which were not hiring either.  I finally had to take a boarder to help pay the rent with my unemployment benefits, thinking positive, that I would have a job shortly.  The boarder had his hours cut as well and couldn't keep paying me, and my benefits were finally exhausted.  I had no where else to go but to my Mom's apartment, putting my whole life in storage, and getting rid of quite a few things which I valued.

I finally started my own online paralegal business, but then the attorneys were feeling the sqeeze so much, there were many who had to reduce their prices to be equal to mine.  I got two jobs during this time, but not from the website, which I paid handsomely for, but from a friend who referred me.  I then had to let the paralegal business go as I could not continue to pay the web hosting costs, the ad costs, and people were telling me an attorney told them they could do the same job as I could for the same amount of money. 
I started to get sicker, probably due to all the stress of money and moving in with someone else, as I was very used to and happy by myself.  My doctor diagnosed me with Lupus, and I started treatment for this.  Then, since I was unemployed, and now starting on my Master's degree since I had to do something with my life while not working, I decided to fullfil one of my desires and apply to be a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) volunteer.  I had the time, so I wanted to keep busy, and if I could help others, I wanted to do so.  I was accepted, after a lengthy criminal and background check (thus, I am not a bum, drug addict, or felon!), and then I had to go through 40 hours of training.  I completed all this and was given my first case in October 2009. 
I then went to the CASA State Conference in April of 2010, and after that, went on to Montana to see my knee doctor, as my knees and hips were hurting a lot more recently.  I had to do this trip on money used from my school loans, so I didn't just borrow money and blow it, every bit of money I ever received from my school loans, went to help on housing expenses, necessities I hadn't been able to buy, and costs associated with my schooling and CASA work, especially on gas since there were a lot of meetings in the beginning.  My knee doctor took x-rays and determined that my knees, both of them, needed to be replaced ASAP, my hips had huge spurs in the joints, which is why they hurt so bad, and my left leg had become quite a bit shorter due to a surgery on my knee in 1995, which was making my back hurt since I was compensating with my walking.  He suggested I apply for SS disability due to my conditions financially and the need for the surgery if I was to be able to work again.
I came back from this trip with another plan in mind, I always have back-up plans.  I was going to finish my Master's and also apply for disability just to get my surgery.  I didn't want to be on it for the rest of my life, I just wanted to get my surgery done so I could walk my dog, ride a horse, and simply not hurt anymore.  I then went to my rheumatologist as instructed to by my general doctor, and was then diagnosed with Fibromyalgia as well as the Lupus.
During all this time, I met someone online, and I thought there might be a better life for me if I lived with them.  So, he paid for me to move to Alaska to be with him.  He is not rich by any means of the word, but he worked as an artist, doing small pieces and selling them, and then sending me the money so I could move up there.  I did, took my little Bichon, and we lasted all of four months.  My health just got worse, and it was not working out the way we had both planned, we were not compatiable.  So, as he had promised, he paid for me to move back to Las Vegas. 
I finished my Master's degree in 2008.  Then after coming back to Las Vegas from Alaska, seeing the economy and my health had not changed for the better, decided to continue my education.  I am now working on my Ph.D. while waiting for my disability to go through, and the economy to pick-up again.
So, much like the young woman I introduced you to in the beginning, I have not sat still, nor have I become lazy.  I don't particullary like living with my Mother, especially at my age, but these are the times we live in.  In the times of the Great Depression, many people co-habitated together, and sometimes they were not even related. 
I was voted for the year 2010 Most Outstanding Newcomer for CASA in Nevada, so I must have done something right.  I continue to keep trying to move forward, despite my illnesses and continual pain.  If something were to happen to my Mom tomorrow, I would be homeless.  We are only living on her Social Security and what little money I get from loans that doesn't go to doctors and medicine.  So, this young woman's story is very real and very scary to me. 

If you are lucky enough to have a job right now, have an income of any sort, have a place of your own, have a vehicle of your own, thank whomever you call God, because there are many of us out here, who are good people, smart people, clean people, who do not have what you are blessed with.  I am not lazy, as can be attested to by any of my friends or associates I have worked with or work with now in CASA; I am not an addict to any substance; I am not mentally ill; yet, I am a step away from being homeless myself. 

How close are you?

My Dad!

I had someone ask this week if I knew anything about my Dad.  Wow!  That kinda' blew me away.  I simply replied the truth, but it was kind of hard to bring up. 

I had thought many times of looking up my Dad during my high school years.  Never got around to it.  I was just never interested in looking for someone who was not part of my life, in any way, shape, or form.  He never paid child support, but when he and my mom divorced, child support laws were not being enforced.  He never asked to see him, as far as I know.  I do know what Mom told me was that he had three boys by a former wife, and he never saw them while he was with my Mom. 
So, I never expected him to get hold of me.

But, being asked about him this far down the line, was just weirdness.

I looked my Dad up when I was 18.  I found his name on a deceased Social Security list.  I retrieved the last known address and his wife's name, as she was listed as the only survivor.  I wrote her, asking her if there were any details she could tell me about him, my father.  I made sure I was clear in the letter in stating I was asking for anything from her, just information.  She never wrote me back. 

So, as far as I am concerned today, my Dad never really exsisted.  I have a picture of him with my Mom, and a few with him with me, but I don't remember him at all. 
What I do remember is Mom working two and three jobs, us sometimes being on welfare, and other 'low budget' issues which prevaded me throughout my childhood. My sister's dad didn't do any better, in fact, he did worse.  But, I will leave that story to her, if she ever wants to tell it. 

Well, just thought I would share.  After telling my friend the story of my Dad, and I wrestled with the answer, then it was all over.  I wonder how long I stayed on his mind during his life? 

Gordon Ramsay!

I watched the Bio Chanel's special on Gordon Ramsay last night.  How awesome an individual.  What was really interesting to me was how my Mom compared me to him in many ways.  In her doing this, gave me a little more confidence and a little push up out of the water I felt I was drowning in. 

If you didn't watch the special, here are just some highlights: he came from a very troubled home, father was an alcoholic, and his Mom was a part time waitress, and there were frequent fights at home, in which his father often used corporal punishment on Ramsay; he was very interested in sports, so much so he was one of the most valued players in football (soccer for us Americans), and then was taken out of that dream by injuries, no fault of his own; then he stopped, but only for a second of his life, and tried working for a restaurant; from that point on he decided this was the path he wanted to go, and he went! 

The similarities in our lives are not just a few!  I had many troubled homes; fighting between my parents all the time, sometimes violent; my first dream of being a housewife and mother were stunted in the fact I didn't get married out of high school, and I later had many miscarriages; then I thought I wanted to be a manager in retail, but then I saw the glass ceiling and decided I wouldn't be able to go far this way; then I wanted my own business, but the lady down the street undercut my prices so far, I couldn't carry on.  Then, I decided to finish my schooling and complete my Bachelor's degree.  Got that and thought the world was mine, but alas, it wasn't until I got my paralegal certificate, which was only 12 weeks of work versus 4 plus years, then the world opened.  I then climbed the ladder in that world, and found it was actually pretty boring, as it became the same thing day after day, and it was so time consuming.  At the same time I was working as a paralegal, I created a Plan B, which is what I have always done, as does Ramsay.  The Plan B was to get more education so I could get into a job I would like and feel like I was helping people at, not just following policy, or helping one person look better than another in litigation.  I was getting so tired of divorce cases where the father or the mother, whomever we were representing, was constantly telling us the other party was so bad, possibly abused the children, beat them, or anything to get the kids away from the other parent, and was so real mean about the other parent, the whole process was sickening.

I finished my Master's in record time, 3 years, and again thought the world would open to me because of that.  Instead, it shut down even more than before.  No one wanted a paralegal with a Master's: too expensive and too "know it all" assumed.  Plus the economy hit,  and jobs were being trashed left and right.  So, I went to Alaska, just to see if there was something for me at the end of world.  After four months, I found there was nothing for me, but more pain ensued.  So, back to Las Vegas, Nevada.

Came back to Las Vegas and decided, after applying to many paralegal places, part-time secretary work, and adjunct teaching positions, to continue my schooling.  I was looking for a degree which would allow me to help from the outside in.  After becoming  a CASA, I realized there were many problems in the system which were not going to be solved by sitting and complaining or by working within the system parameters.  I spoke at great length with doctoral advisers at Capella, and then decided on my next Plan B: a doctorate in Public Service Leadership.  At the same time I am working on a Teaching Certificate so when I graduate I will be able to teach online after graduation. 

At the same time I am applying for Social Security Disability to help me be able to get the surgery on my knees, hip, and back.  I received a denial letter for the original claim, then a denial for the 1st appeal, so now I am working with Binder & Binder and they are on the next step which I have to go in front of the judge with a Binder representative.  After talking with my Mom, we decided my Plan B on this issue which would be to continue on my Ph.D. and when finished, continue on looking for jobs on adjunct teaching. 

So, as I started, it appears Mr. Gordon Ramsay has had sincere up and downs in his lifetime, and yet he has over come them, and is doing what he wants to do, helping others succeed outside the box.  I have had many up and downs in my lifetime, but have continued to keep going, and my goal is to help people from the outside, or rather from the outside of the box.  He has Plan B's in his life, and I am constantly figuring out Plan B's so I don't ever get stuck. 

So, thanks Gordon Ramsay for being who are, for working past all of life's issues, and for setting an example for not only chefs, but for us normal people as well.

Manners...

I have written about this before, but the problem appears to just keep exacerbating throughout the professional community. 

In my school work through Capella University, there is a whole module offered to all students about how to write professionally online.  This module covers manners, how to write concisely, and what not to include in professional emails (specifically emotioncons and the abbreviate words). The module also states one should reply with a 'thank you' for information provided to you via email. 

Now I have dealt with many 'professionals' via email, and have seen all kinds of email errors, and now they have reached a peak with me.  So, as this blog is "Rene's Mumblings," I shall mumble for my own benefit on this subject.

First off, when someone does a favor of providing information to your via email, a quick "thank you" and then hit send is all that is required.  This is not for the enrichment of the receiver's ego, but just a common courtesy.  It is the same when someone hands you something, or tells you something, you would just say "thank you" out of habit (hopefully!) not just take the information or item and turn to walk away.  It is the same, only easier, for an email:  one need only read the content, hit reply, write thank you, and then hit send.  How hard is that?! 
This courtesy accomplishes two important parts of communiction: first, the receiver of the original email offers their gratification for someone offering the information to them; and second, it also lets the original sender know the person has read the email.  If nothing is sent in return, then the writer has no idea if the email has been read, did the receiver actually get it (I find there are some programs which place some emails automatically in the trash or spam file), and that they receiver is grateful for the information or at least for being thought of and included in the distribution of the information. 

Then there are the emails wherein a person does not proof read them, and wrong words are used, there are continual misspellings, or the attachments are not included which are referred.  In a Yahoo! article on email courtesy the above advice on offer gratification for information is listed as well as proof reading emails.  The Yahoo! article also states one should attach all documents, pictures, etc., before writing the email, so there is no chance of finishing the email and then just hitting send. 

It is amazing to me in reading documents which are submitted to Courts, which are published in newspapers and email versions of newspapers, and which are supposed to come from well educated professionals, to see how many misspellings, grammar mistakes, or just plain weird writing is included.  I have seen legal documents which read as fairy tales as the type style used at the beginning of each paragraph is about 24+ points and is something only used in scrap-booking or in fun. 

What has happened to just the basic courtesies and responsible writing which used to be a standard?  One used to be able to count on a legal document as being quite near perfect in grammar, spelling, and appearance.  Now we have courts who don't even require the legal standard of line numbers and legal margins.  I can understand a lesser standard if the document is produced by a litigant them self, but if it is from an attorney's office, with paralegals, law clerks, and secretaries, there is no excuse for shoddy work. 

Ok, now I am done.  This blog may not be perfect, but as I have already stated, this is not a professional piece of work, nor is it to appear to be professional in any manner.  It is "ramblings", and that is all. 

OMG!!! Today...

Well, I went to the Court Model Conference yesterday at Sam's Town.  Like all things in 'Vegas, all the non-gambling rooms and activities are placed in the middle of the hotel and one has to walk a thousand miles to get to them.  I did take my cane as I knew this was going to be the situation.  I did look at a map of Sam's Town first, and it appeared from the map that I parked in the closest place available.  By the time I arrived at the conference rooms, they were smack dab in the middle of the hotel, no parking from any other place, including valet, would have been closer, and I had walked at least 500 miles.  Boy!!! Was I tired.  My legs, knees, and back were all killing me, and the conference hadn't even started yet. 

There was a continental breakfast offered: the fruit was good, but the danish were hard and old.  At least the coffee was good!  The conference itself was really good; I just hope we can really implement the program.  It was hard to see how CASA was going to be put in the front end of this program, but later one of the administrators of CASA came up with a good suggestion. 

When it was lunch time, we were told it was just out the door to the left.  Yeah, right~  It was another 5,000 miles, and this time, since they made it sound close, I didn't take my cane.  So, by the time I got to the rooms for the lunch, I was way worn out again.  Then, although we were asked if we wanted a regular lunch or a vegetarian plate, it was all served buffet style.  Whatever!  Just more standing for me.  One of the other CASA administrators walked with me back, as he knew what I had been going through.  I took the pain pills I had been putting off taking as I wanted to stay as awake as possible during the conference. I did start to get sleepy towards the end, and I was also getting really hot, while everyone else was cold.  The second half of the conference was good as well, it was just I was getting tired because of the pain and the pills. 

So, today, after not getting a good night's sleep because of the Restless Leg Syndrome, I woke grouchy.  I also had another nightmare, but don't remember too much about it.  I just had to get up, watch I Love Lucy and take another Tylenol P.M. to get back to sleep.  Then it appeared that everything I touched till now was against me. 
I went into my classes, and wasn't able to download all the articles I needed.  Then the Coursepacks I paid for were somehow sent to my old email address.  I had corrected the email last quarter with the bookstore, but apparently they went back to the old email I had not been using because it was being phished.  Then I sat on terminal hold via online chat waiting to talk to a representative about this problem, when finally she said it was all fixed and it would be sent to my new address.  I waited for over a half an hour, and finally had to go to my old email and figure out how to get into it.  Did that, was able to download the course packs, so all is good on that front.

Oh!!!! Forgot to mention, don't know how, my first experience of this lovely day.  I want to make hash browns, and the burner was making the pan all crooked.  So, in my daze of pain pills and sleep left over, I place my hand on the burner to push it down.  Well, the burner was on! Duh!!! So, now I have gauze all over my hand, and am going to have burner marks on my hand for a few days. 

The cats partied after I went back to bed by getting sick on the floor; one did her thing on front carpet; and turned over a glass jar we have out, which at least didn't break.  So, my big cat has been hungry for the rest of the day, since she got sick this morning, so I fed her a little this afternoon as I definitely know where she is coming from. 

So, at least I was able to have my crab legs for lunch, which is always a good thing.  And I finally did get all my course pack stuff and the other articles downloaded.  And, the season finale of Being Human on BBCA is on tonight.  So, life is good after all!

A New Start?!

Well, Spring is upon us here in Nevada, at least in Las Vegas.  People are complaining about allergies and feeling tired when they go outside.  The pool is looking more and more inviting each day. 

I am personally looking foward to this Spring as a new beginning, or at least a kick in the butt for me.  I have been feeling much better since I have been seeing this new doctor, Dr. Bob, who was referred to me by my Reiki lady, Patti.  Dr. Bob has been fabulous with me and with Mom. 

My classes (2) start on the 11th of April, and this time I don't want to have to withdraw or take and "F".  I need to finish this Ph.D. and get the Colloquiums out of the way.  I am planning on going to Dallas in August for one of them, but then I am also due for my third one already.  I guess I just have to take one day at a time.  It just seems like this Ph.D. journey is so long and tiring, nothing like the Master's journey. 

I also need to find out what is going to happen to my CASA kid.  She is kinda' in limbo right now, and we are going back and forth in the courtroom trying to figure out what to do with her.  I know one thing, I will do everything I can so she doesn't fall through the cracks. 
There are too many job cuts and cuts in hours for State and County workers is really taking a toll on our children.  The case workers are too overloaded in a normal economy, much less the way they are running Nevada now!  Plus, now there is talk of cutting back more on education and teachers.  I have said it before, and I will say it again: We might as well just take the baby to the jail house, as this nation seems to place more importance on the Criminal Justice System and locking people up than they do on education.  Education seems to always be first on the plate to be cut, by people who are not realizing these cuts hurt us all in the short run and in the long run.  If there is no place for average children, not children of the more privledged, to get a good education, then they will turn into criminals, and who could blame them.  They will copy what they see on the street, and look to the criminals for a family and for education of the world.  We have families in disarray already due to this kind of thinking, now we are working on the next generation.  We, in Clark County, have one of the highest drop out rates in the country.  And...now, the plan of all those in charge is to cut more teachers jobs and cut more in education. 

Well, that is enough from my soap box today.  I promise it won't always be like this, sometimes it will just be ramblings, ideas, or offerings of others which I come across.