Saturday, February 9, 2013

DOG Fighting and other horrid things

I reported a co-worker to the police today. He was inviting people to a dog fight. This ghetto life is maddening. Sometimes I just have to say ENOUGH.

At what point does of guilt about poverty give way to outrage about behavior. Today was my day. There will be hell to pay next week. And I fully understand that my safety is threatened. I will get no protection from security and they may even retaliate.

But it so gruesome that I had to do it. I wanted to stop the fight, but there is no interest in preventing crimes, just punishing people after the fact.

I am being worn out.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

The New Old Town

I haven't move away; but I am working in Milwaukee. It is poor, urban, and, well, in a ghetto. The chronicles of inner city teaching are always interesting and sometime terrifying. They are worth a story or two.

Truth be told, there is a dissertation there or a novel. I need a record of daily happenings and this is my space to do it. It's very late tonight. I had enough energy to rearrange all of this. Tomorrow will be better.

Do you see the dots in the red? I work here in the big group closest to the lake.

map of school buildings with 50% or more poor children
   Here is some scenery follow the link to read the article:


      


Sunday, March 25, 2012

Who writes? Not me.

Every time I turn around I am still standing in the same place. I will be looking for work AGAIN; last one hired, first one fired. I was distraught, but that is ebbing. It could be the drugs I take to make life smoother.

It is harder to write when there isn't a problem. I can bitch about most of the things that are day to day in regular life. Normally, no fuss.

I think that is what this was for, screaming at the top of my keyboard. And now what?

I miss people. My husband is gone for years with visits; he works far away. I trudge through here and it just is.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Summer Soccer Mom (minus being a stripper)


Everclear - Volvo Driving Soccer Mom by EMI_Music

Mwah, ha,ha. Just a note: I was never a stripper and I drive a Scion.


I am not a fan of Everclear, but this song neatly filled a little rebellion I wanted to get out of the system after the onslaught of soccer this year. Soccer is an institution in the suburban house. This is the little girl at soccer. She is fun and fancy free...for now.


This the SOCCER: Mancub is on the verge of HIGH SCHOOL ATHLETICS. Soccer is the first season. Track will be the second and the coaches are for realz. People will be cut, try-outs are mandatory, and we have 'hell week' on the way.


All of this will have to frame the European Summer. No joke, Mancub needs to be HERE for the tryouts. This is serious. It is the job of the athletes parent to open the way to high school glory.

So here's to the soccer moms: Soccer has won.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

42

I blame God, or better, I blame her insistence that there is a God, churches make sense, and that I should be nice about it.


The first and most important piece of information is that: I am not nice.


I hate being nice. I gave up nice a long time ago; it was about the time I gave up pride and the belief that I would do anything for love, but I wouldn't do that. I would do it, whatever it was; I would kick Meatloaf's ass.


I am not nice because I don't understand, it is also because I am intolerant, and I am arrogant. Nice is luxurious, just like her life with God. The people at the church are nice; I have met them. Her children saying little prayers are nice and it is very nice to hear about her time with them. She has shared all about her life, staying home, then working a little, mostly staying near our old home town, and her struggles with her weight and childcare and God. God is somehow involved in all of these daily trials. God cares. I don't.


The rot in the wound of this friendship is that I don't care and if I don't care, I can't understand why God would care. God hasn't cared about so many things. There was no God at the bottom. There was no God watching vicious savage days. There was no God alone in train stations, no God watching the poor wretched addicts, no God with that girl that was robbed and beaten.


I have been a lot of places. I have been in and out of love. I have been high and low. I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower and the bottom of the gutter. I have been surrounded by friends and too alone with myself. I have been there when all the blood ran out. I have been there when eyes, so beautiful that my inside felt heavy, opened. I have been.
KISS. Keep It Simple Stupid. You can call it Occam's Razor if you feel intellectual. The simplest answer is most often correct.


The simple answer is not a mysterious supernatural being. The simple answer is not that we can't know the will of God. The simple answer is that there is no simple answer. The simple answer is that nothing is simple. Everything is complicated. Everywhere is complicated. It is all so complicated that you and I and my dog can't understand it. We can find pieces, we can know as much as can be known, but after that we don't know and that is complicated.


I can't believe her. I can't believe it. I can't believe God.


and I know why. I don't care.