I got a quick interest in pirates when I was thinking of a new picture of my OC Mel and my friend's OC Nyomi. We've drawn the two together now and then and it's been a while since we did a fresh picture, so I figured "Okay, this time we'll put them in pirate costumes!". I pulled our copy of "A Nest of Rebel Pirates" off of the shelf for inspiration and opened it...
on the inside front page, there is a sharpie comment written:
"Septembre 11, 1995
Kindest regards to the Davis Family, descendants of Chestnut Neck.
Franklin N. Kemp"
HOLY SHIT!
Mom once mentioned that this book is about our ancestors, but I had never opened it until today and then I saw this autograph directly from the author.
I asked mom "How are we related to the Davis family?" We've gone to the reunions for many years but I never asked this before. She said "My mom's mom was Henrietta Davis". Well, that was a simple answer and it satisfied me for now. I'll have to call Grandma up and talk about it since I want to know a little more about this massacre. She might not know a whole lot because both of her parents drowned in Big Bear Lake when she was 12, although grandpa has been putting together our family tree for a long time now.
Either way, I want to dive into this book. Chestnut Neck was described to be a place of American Privateers, but these privateers attacked other ships and stole their shit. I have pirates in my family.
My understanding of these events is that the British burned Chestnut Neck to the ground, and it never rose up as a trading port again. This event isn't really talked about in the textbooks I read in high school, and it's only part of a small bit of the American Revolution.
I was also pleased to see that the book stated the first white settler to the Little Egg Harbor area was a man named Erkka Mullikka (or Eric Mullica for the American version of his name), a Finn. Of course, that is just the Nightwish fangirl in me suprised to see that my family has the vaguest of connections to Finland, but I will also admit this has raised my interest in genuinely wanting to study Finland and it's culture more outside of a band that I like. I'll start with Erkka Mullikka.
This whole massacre business though is kinda sad. We seem to have a lot of that in my family. On my dad's side, we have the Cheerokee tribe and the Trail of Tears, though I'm not quite touching that just yet. I've accepted that the fullest possible understanding that I can get for all these events doesn't compare to actually being immersed in the tribe, and this acceptance actually comes from the novel Pigs in Heaven, which is a sequel to The Bean Trees. In PiH, Annawake Fourkiller insists that Turtle must be with her tribe because the Cheerokee nation had already lost so many of it's children, and the culture must remain as intact as possible after being fractured so many times. I grew up in a nuclear family so their concept of what is family and the closeness of the tribe is so foreign to me, yet this is also a thread in my family's cloth. It makes me a little sad that I can't fully understand.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Fuck!
I am not happy with myself right now. The thoughts in my head are "I should have registered earlier" or variants of the same.
Today was an orientation/advising/class registration day at the college. I already felt panicy about 15 minutes into the orientation because I worried that my financial aid wouldn't be able to cover the tuition but I calmed down for a bit. While waiting for an advisor, I talked to a couple people.. usual socializing type stuff.
I sat down with an advisor and we went through the course guide and such to find classes that weren't already filled since the ones I wanted to take (English 101 and Math 080) were closed. I ended up with "Powerful College Reading", "Intro to Human Services", and "Intro to Education". Not too bad. It's still kinda down the career choices I've thought about.
I found a payphone in a separate building and called dad to say that I finished with the advisor and that I was on my way to the financial aid office, which was in an entirely different building. It was about 5 minutes past 4 PM at that time.
I found the building and went up to the floor, and immediately waited in line for around 10 minutes before meeting with a financial aid person. I was to turn in a data sheet and some sort of dependency sheet with a copy of our 2008 tax form. Turns out that I couldn't copy the tax form in that office so I had to go back to the building I used the payphone in and to the library to use the copy machine there.
Well, the damn library was closed but there was a copy machine for use in the student newspaper room so I used that and ran back to the financial aid people. I waited a few more minutes in the line (not nearly as bad as it was earlier), only to recieve bad news.
My FAFSA shit was turned in too late or processed too late or something so it wouldn't be sent in time for the fall quarter. I could still use it but not until the winter and spring quarters.
THe thing is, I NEED to go to college so I can stay on mom's dental insurance so unless I can pay the $985.00 out of pocket, I'm fucked! I wouldn't be so fucked if I didn't have to take on 12 or more credits but.. shit. It needs to be paid by September 1st, 6 PM. There is the 20/40 plan though, but we still wouldn't be able to afford it.
The 20/40 plan is where I pay half the tuition by September 1st, then 1/4 of the remainder on the 20th calendar day, then the last 1/4 on the 40th calendar day. It's a binding contract though so once I sign up for it, I have to pay it that way. The financial aid lady said they'd reimburse me for paying out of pocket but the pocket is damn empty right now.
I'm going to figure out another way to pay this off, but right now I'm too tired and upset to think about it any more. Dad is/was pretty pissed off about it after I told him but there isn't anything that can be done in this exact moment.
Oh, and the universe must have thought it was funny to have a bank statement sent to me to once again remind me I have $13.70 in my account. My statements are sent so sporadically that I haven't been expecting one for months and it happened to be delivered today. Fucking hilarious.
Today was an orientation/advising/class registration day at the college. I already felt panicy about 15 minutes into the orientation because I worried that my financial aid wouldn't be able to cover the tuition but I calmed down for a bit. While waiting for an advisor, I talked to a couple people.. usual socializing type stuff.
I sat down with an advisor and we went through the course guide and such to find classes that weren't already filled since the ones I wanted to take (English 101 and Math 080) were closed. I ended up with "Powerful College Reading", "Intro to Human Services", and "Intro to Education". Not too bad. It's still kinda down the career choices I've thought about.
I found a payphone in a separate building and called dad to say that I finished with the advisor and that I was on my way to the financial aid office, which was in an entirely different building. It was about 5 minutes past 4 PM at that time.
I found the building and went up to the floor, and immediately waited in line for around 10 minutes before meeting with a financial aid person. I was to turn in a data sheet and some sort of dependency sheet with a copy of our 2008 tax form. Turns out that I couldn't copy the tax form in that office so I had to go back to the building I used the payphone in and to the library to use the copy machine there.
Well, the damn library was closed but there was a copy machine for use in the student newspaper room so I used that and ran back to the financial aid people. I waited a few more minutes in the line (not nearly as bad as it was earlier), only to recieve bad news.
My FAFSA shit was turned in too late or processed too late or something so it wouldn't be sent in time for the fall quarter. I could still use it but not until the winter and spring quarters.
THe thing is, I NEED to go to college so I can stay on mom's dental insurance so unless I can pay the $985.00 out of pocket, I'm fucked! I wouldn't be so fucked if I didn't have to take on 12 or more credits but.. shit. It needs to be paid by September 1st, 6 PM. There is the 20/40 plan though, but we still wouldn't be able to afford it.
The 20/40 plan is where I pay half the tuition by September 1st, then 1/4 of the remainder on the 20th calendar day, then the last 1/4 on the 40th calendar day. It's a binding contract though so once I sign up for it, I have to pay it that way. The financial aid lady said they'd reimburse me for paying out of pocket but the pocket is damn empty right now.
I'm going to figure out another way to pay this off, but right now I'm too tired and upset to think about it any more. Dad is/was pretty pissed off about it after I told him but there isn't anything that can be done in this exact moment.
Oh, and the universe must have thought it was funny to have a bank statement sent to me to once again remind me I have $13.70 in my account. My statements are sent so sporadically that I haven't been expecting one for months and it happened to be delivered today. Fucking hilarious.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Oh god, my head is spinning
I can't remember when I began to recognize what happened to me in middle school was emotional abuse, but I do remember moments that paint a portrait of how I was feeling even back in 9th grade, and that support the given aftereffects of classroom emotional abuse (OH HOW I LOVE THAT TITLE! I've found a title for it!).
First, there is an article that outlines classroom emotional abuse and what counselors can do about it. I found a really long excerpt of it online and read it, and it was long enough to adress the problem and name some of the emotional/psychological consequences.
In the section labeled "Academic", it goes on to say:
"Emotional abuse can lead to lower motivation for school attendance, incompletion of academic assignments, and negative student-teacher interactions (Hymen & Snook, 1999). Hymen and Snook contented that students may also experience difficulty paying attention; staying on task; thinking clearly; focusing on schoolwork in general; and performing at lower levels, academically, on measures of ability and achievement. The factors cited can significantly affect academic emprogress and impede promotion to subsequent grade levels, placing students who have been emotionally abused at risk of failing in school and potentionally dropping out of school early. Consequently, thoese measures are strong indicators to counselors that a student may be experiencing emotional abuse."
I had to pause and remember to breathe when typing that because it hits me on the most personal level. EVERYTHING there describes me with some things even leading up to my last year of high school. That is how long that shit lasted for me.
Oh my god, this is just amazing.
In the next paragraph, it goes:
"Students who experience emotional abuse in the classroom display behavioral problems in schools (Hymen & Snook, 1999; Stevens, 1996). They may become rebellious and belligerent toward teachers or display impulsive aggressive behaviors (e.g., hitting and fighting) towards other students. They are often seen picking fights with peers and may at times act cold, hard, and unfeeling (Gootman, 1993). In addition, some of these students may experience feelings of anxiety and phobic reactions toward school. Students who have been emotionally abused may learn to fear and resent their teachers rather than respect them. Teachers become aversive individuals in the student's life, someone to escape from or to avoid (Gootman, 1993; Maggiolo, 1998). Emotionally abused children may also demonstrate hypervigilant, suspicious, and mistrustful behavior or appear to always be on the lookout for potential dangers (Conlee, 1986). Often, they are moody and afraid to express their feelings (Gootman, 1993). "
The way that I can recall reacting at the time wasn't aggressive because I was wrapped up in grieving and too busy feeling like an awful kid for failing in school. Although, there is one instance that happened in 11th grade where I was very unfeeling to a comment that maybe would have hurt me on a different day, but on that particular day and in that moment I literally did not give a shit.
It was in my Speech and Debate class and a friend and I were set to go on to debate against each other. However, my friend started to have a really severe panic attack with the shakes all over and everything. She could not go on for the debate in that condition so I got up to tell the teacher that we could not debate today and that she was having a panic attack. The teacher was looking me in the eye and she said "You just ruined the whole class period." in a very cold voice. I reacted by grinning and almost laughing in her face because my priority was not in defending George Bush in a debate, but in getting my friend to the counselor. I did that and came back to the classroom and we did some sort of writing assignment instead. The teacher had frustration just oozing into her voice but I still did not care.
I don't know if that would count in this case of the behavioral effects of EA, but it was the first thing that came to mind when I read that bit.
There is one more article that I found that also hit me really hard: First Do No Harm: Emotional Maltreatment in the Classroom.
It quoted the NAEYC Code of Ethical Conduct in saying "Above all, we shall not harm children. We shall not participate in practices that emotionally damaging, physically harmful, disrespectful, degrading, dangerous, exploitative, or intimidating to the children." When I read that, I actually laughed because I thought about these teachers from my past and thought this quote was funny in disbelief. They had violated this.
Now, the thing that I found most difficult to read in the article was the example of Ms. Jones and Robert, a first grader. The constant reminding that Robert would be put back into kindergarten has been completely.... imprinted on my mind because almost the same exact thing happened to me throughout 7th grade. Instead of threatening to put me back a grade, the teacher instead said "You will be held back in 8th grade if you keep this up. I am one of the teachers that decides wether or not a student gets retained a grade." I could not meet their standards and robotic feelings so they were going to attempt to hold me back but my family had moved.
Odd. I find it difficult to talk about this now.
The really hard thing about this is this quote from the first article talking about how "the factors cited can significantly affect academic progress and impede promotion to subsequent grade levels."
I believe that, at first, my low grade levels were directly from all the grief I was feeling over my sister's death, and now I feel that the continued failure in school is a direct result of the emotional abuse that I was experiencing. The threats to hold me back didn't motivate me and instead made me feel worse. Though we left after 8th grade, I continued to not feel motivated/even care about school and afraid of my teachers even if they were different and I continued to have low grades. I ended up having to repeat the 12th grade because I lacked the right amount of credits to graduate on time. This was really hard on me at first in my second around and I was starting to consider dropping out because I already felt worthless and like a failure, and that I could never be successful at life.
Fuck. I need to stop right now.
First, there is an article that outlines classroom emotional abuse and what counselors can do about it. I found a really long excerpt of it online and read it, and it was long enough to adress the problem and name some of the emotional/psychological consequences.
In the section labeled "Academic", it goes on to say:
"Emotional abuse can lead to lower motivation for school attendance, incompletion of academic assignments, and negative student-teacher interactions (Hymen & Snook, 1999). Hymen and Snook contented that students may also experience difficulty paying attention; staying on task; thinking clearly; focusing on schoolwork in general; and performing at lower levels, academically, on measures of ability and achievement. The factors cited can significantly affect academic emprogress and impede promotion to subsequent grade levels, placing students who have been emotionally abused at risk of failing in school and potentionally dropping out of school early. Consequently, thoese measures are strong indicators to counselors that a student may be experiencing emotional abuse."
I had to pause and remember to breathe when typing that because it hits me on the most personal level. EVERYTHING there describes me with some things even leading up to my last year of high school. That is how long that shit lasted for me.
Oh my god, this is just amazing.
In the next paragraph, it goes:
"Students who experience emotional abuse in the classroom display behavioral problems in schools (Hymen & Snook, 1999; Stevens, 1996). They may become rebellious and belligerent toward teachers or display impulsive aggressive behaviors (e.g., hitting and fighting) towards other students. They are often seen picking fights with peers and may at times act cold, hard, and unfeeling (Gootman, 1993). In addition, some of these students may experience feelings of anxiety and phobic reactions toward school. Students who have been emotionally abused may learn to fear and resent their teachers rather than respect them. Teachers become aversive individuals in the student's life, someone to escape from or to avoid (Gootman, 1993; Maggiolo, 1998). Emotionally abused children may also demonstrate hypervigilant, suspicious, and mistrustful behavior or appear to always be on the lookout for potential dangers (Conlee, 1986). Often, they are moody and afraid to express their feelings (Gootman, 1993). "
The way that I can recall reacting at the time wasn't aggressive because I was wrapped up in grieving and too busy feeling like an awful kid for failing in school. Although, there is one instance that happened in 11th grade where I was very unfeeling to a comment that maybe would have hurt me on a different day, but on that particular day and in that moment I literally did not give a shit.
It was in my Speech and Debate class and a friend and I were set to go on to debate against each other. However, my friend started to have a really severe panic attack with the shakes all over and everything. She could not go on for the debate in that condition so I got up to tell the teacher that we could not debate today and that she was having a panic attack. The teacher was looking me in the eye and she said "You just ruined the whole class period." in a very cold voice. I reacted by grinning and almost laughing in her face because my priority was not in defending George Bush in a debate, but in getting my friend to the counselor. I did that and came back to the classroom and we did some sort of writing assignment instead. The teacher had frustration just oozing into her voice but I still did not care.
I don't know if that would count in this case of the behavioral effects of EA, but it was the first thing that came to mind when I read that bit.
There is one more article that I found that also hit me really hard: First Do No Harm: Emotional Maltreatment in the Classroom.
It quoted the NAEYC Code of Ethical Conduct in saying "Above all, we shall not harm children. We shall not participate in practices that emotionally damaging, physically harmful, disrespectful, degrading, dangerous, exploitative, or intimidating to the children." When I read that, I actually laughed because I thought about these teachers from my past and thought this quote was funny in disbelief. They had violated this.
Now, the thing that I found most difficult to read in the article was the example of Ms. Jones and Robert, a first grader. The constant reminding that Robert would be put back into kindergarten has been completely.... imprinted on my mind because almost the same exact thing happened to me throughout 7th grade. Instead of threatening to put me back a grade, the teacher instead said "You will be held back in 8th grade if you keep this up. I am one of the teachers that decides wether or not a student gets retained a grade." I could not meet their standards and robotic feelings so they were going to attempt to hold me back but my family had moved.
Odd. I find it difficult to talk about this now.
The really hard thing about this is this quote from the first article talking about how "the factors cited can significantly affect academic progress and impede promotion to subsequent grade levels."
I believe that, at first, my low grade levels were directly from all the grief I was feeling over my sister's death, and now I feel that the continued failure in school is a direct result of the emotional abuse that I was experiencing. The threats to hold me back didn't motivate me and instead made me feel worse. Though we left after 8th grade, I continued to not feel motivated/even care about school and afraid of my teachers even if they were different and I continued to have low grades. I ended up having to repeat the 12th grade because I lacked the right amount of credits to graduate on time. This was really hard on me at first in my second around and I was starting to consider dropping out because I already felt worthless and like a failure, and that I could never be successful at life.
Fuck. I need to stop right now.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Oof
So dad got the proposal back from the workplace down in California and it's niiiice... they'd pay him a little more than he asked for (which is a little less than what he made at a seperate but similar company, but still good) and he'd have medical insurance 'n everything. We're all going to be discussing it more to see if this is really the right choice since this kind of thing is a long-term commitment and it'd be hard having him live all the way back in CA again without us.
Not much else to update there.
Meanwhile, I held my own against my grandpa earlier, which made me feel nice. He's not a mean guy or anything, but sometimes he just goes on and on about something and the typical reaction when he does this is just to smile and nod and let him ramble. However, he was talking to *me* so that means me not giving in so easily. We were first talking about my college plans and he reminded me for about five minutes straight to make sure my credits were transferrable when I had just gotten through saying I was going to do that, and then I told him how I already talked to some psychology advisors and one of them said that talking to me about my career choice (art therapy) would be fascinating and he'd be happy to help. Papa went on saying that I also need to look at the pay and how good it is.
Thus, I told him "Well I'm not doing this for the money Papa" and he continues on wondering about the job oppertunities available for an art therapist. I informed him that art therapists work at all sorts of places like hospitals, halfway homes, batterered womens shelters, emergency clinics, etcetc but he focused in on my mentioning of halfway houses and remarked that something like that probably wouldn't pay too well.
This conversation was going to piss me off if it continued so I told him that during my first round of 12th grade, I looked up the annual salary for art therapists but could not remember what it was (which is true, it was for my project), but at the time it didn't matter to me anyway because the standard of living changes all the time. I continued with "Now look at how the economy is in this current moment--2009, and how different the standard of living is now compared to ten years ago. By the time I get certified, which will take more than four years, the standard will be different then."
This actually got through to him and he said "That's true."
And it is.
A while back, him and grandma suggested that I become a pharmacist because it pays really well, and I forced a smile while reaching far to try to connect that career to my passions in life. My reach was pathetic. I said "Well... I guess it'd kinda be like helping people since I'd be giving them medication." and they smiled their smiles, but the idea didn't sit with me. I tried looking up pharmeceutical schools in my state and there is a class or something at University of Washington, but that university is so out of my league and I don't want to pay a rediculous amount of money for a career that I won't even be happy doing.
Yes, money is important but I am not chosing a career just because it'd be financially stable.
In fact, the whole reason I've been looking at career choices where art is part of it but not the whole thing is so that way I could have avoided conversations like the one I had with Papa earlier. Society beats the whole "starving artist" image into our head and I got so convinced of this that I decided to never have a gallery of my art or do freelance work. This might have actually derailed my motivation to continue it because I don't feel the same way that I did before.
As a kid, I had dreamed of my future job to just be "artist". I wrote in an essay that I'd make people's homes beautiful with my paintings. Now with more cynicism moving around in my brain, I've looked outside the box and part of it just doesn't feel right. I need to get back to my roots.
You don't need to be rich to be happy. I'd like to make enough money to support a house or apartment with the bills and food stuff and have enough to continue my passions in life, and that would be fine with me.
It's weird to be holding onto this dream when my family is in the middle of a financial rut. Although, money doesn't make me happy.
Not much else to update there.
Meanwhile, I held my own against my grandpa earlier, which made me feel nice. He's not a mean guy or anything, but sometimes he just goes on and on about something and the typical reaction when he does this is just to smile and nod and let him ramble. However, he was talking to *me* so that means me not giving in so easily. We were first talking about my college plans and he reminded me for about five minutes straight to make sure my credits were transferrable when I had just gotten through saying I was going to do that, and then I told him how I already talked to some psychology advisors and one of them said that talking to me about my career choice (art therapy) would be fascinating and he'd be happy to help. Papa went on saying that I also need to look at the pay and how good it is.
Thus, I told him "Well I'm not doing this for the money Papa" and he continues on wondering about the job oppertunities available for an art therapist. I informed him that art therapists work at all sorts of places like hospitals, halfway homes, batterered womens shelters, emergency clinics, etcetc but he focused in on my mentioning of halfway houses and remarked that something like that probably wouldn't pay too well.
This conversation was going to piss me off if it continued so I told him that during my first round of 12th grade, I looked up the annual salary for art therapists but could not remember what it was (which is true, it was for my project), but at the time it didn't matter to me anyway because the standard of living changes all the time. I continued with "Now look at how the economy is in this current moment--2009, and how different the standard of living is now compared to ten years ago. By the time I get certified, which will take more than four years, the standard will be different then."
This actually got through to him and he said "That's true."
And it is.
A while back, him and grandma suggested that I become a pharmacist because it pays really well, and I forced a smile while reaching far to try to connect that career to my passions in life. My reach was pathetic. I said "Well... I guess it'd kinda be like helping people since I'd be giving them medication." and they smiled their smiles, but the idea didn't sit with me. I tried looking up pharmeceutical schools in my state and there is a class or something at University of Washington, but that university is so out of my league and I don't want to pay a rediculous amount of money for a career that I won't even be happy doing.
Yes, money is important but I am not chosing a career just because it'd be financially stable.
In fact, the whole reason I've been looking at career choices where art is part of it but not the whole thing is so that way I could have avoided conversations like the one I had with Papa earlier. Society beats the whole "starving artist" image into our head and I got so convinced of this that I decided to never have a gallery of my art or do freelance work. This might have actually derailed my motivation to continue it because I don't feel the same way that I did before.
As a kid, I had dreamed of my future job to just be "artist". I wrote in an essay that I'd make people's homes beautiful with my paintings. Now with more cynicism moving around in my brain, I've looked outside the box and part of it just doesn't feel right. I need to get back to my roots.
You don't need to be rich to be happy. I'd like to make enough money to support a house or apartment with the bills and food stuff and have enough to continue my passions in life, and that would be fine with me.
It's weird to be holding onto this dream when my family is in the middle of a financial rut. Although, money doesn't make me happy.
Holy shit
Earlier I was washing the dishes as I always do and singing along to "Romanticide" when I heard dad call me from the stairs. A phonecall came in for me. My first guess was a friend that'd ask me if I could come over, but it was actually that friend's boyfriend. Both of 'em are my best friends.
I asked what's up and he repeated the question to me, so I figured he was just fooling around. I told him that I was washing dishes and I began to notice that his reponses were... off. When I asked him what's up he's like "aah... it's weird..." Thus, something was wrong.
Turns out, his grandma has pancriatic cancer and was also given 5 month's time. Holy shit. Holy shit.
He called 'cause he needed someone to talk to and also with my family's experience with losing Nicole to cancer (different type). I told him that it almost seems different for each person but the common thread is that it's difficult.
He was like "I guess I'm supposed to be sad, but I'm just kinda.... meh" (can't remember his actual wording here but it was close). I guessed "Shock?"
Further on, I told him to feel whatever emotions come to him since no one is really "supposed" to feel any which way. If you were supposed to feel one thing, then you'd feel it.
We had an off-topic conversation soon after but there was still a different sort of tone to his voice. It's freaky to think about...
I told him in the past that he worries me because he opens himself up to everyone's problems and he's a good listener, but outside of relationship stuff... I think this is the first big problem he's told me about. We've had conversations where we talked about stuff in his past but nothing "current" seemed to happen. There was one thing though, but I didn't know it was even happening until his girlfriend came over to my house one day and burst into tears when she told me. He hid that pretty well, almost.
This though.. he's opened up to me and it's almost weird because I've gone though something similar over 8 years ago.
I don't know if he's close with his grandma (it seems he is with his emotional response), but either way she is a part of his identity and family history and it's just really kinda.. devastating to think about the fact he's losing that and that there isn't anything that anyone can do about it. He isn't a control freak, but he does like it when there is something he can do about something and gets really quiet and uncomfortable otherwise. With his girlfriend though, she has sensed that he's wanted to help her out of her family situation but whenever she talked about it with him she just wanted him to listen and not really say much about it since there wasn't anything else he could do. It was a tense time for them.
With an impending death though, that is a whole other can of worms. Listening in on how he reacts in the months ahead is... definitely going to be different. It hurts me to think about but I cannot imagine what him or his family is going through. Yes, there is the prior experience with Nicole but she had fought for 2 years before passing on. With his grandma, it seems like they found out very recently and that she didn't get a chance to fight it off. Five fucking months. That's terrifying.
I asked what's up and he repeated the question to me, so I figured he was just fooling around. I told him that I was washing dishes and I began to notice that his reponses were... off. When I asked him what's up he's like "aah... it's weird..." Thus, something was wrong.
Turns out, his grandma has pancriatic cancer and was also given 5 month's time. Holy shit. Holy shit.
He called 'cause he needed someone to talk to and also with my family's experience with losing Nicole to cancer (different type). I told him that it almost seems different for each person but the common thread is that it's difficult.
He was like "I guess I'm supposed to be sad, but I'm just kinda.... meh" (can't remember his actual wording here but it was close). I guessed "Shock?"
Further on, I told him to feel whatever emotions come to him since no one is really "supposed" to feel any which way. If you were supposed to feel one thing, then you'd feel it.
We had an off-topic conversation soon after but there was still a different sort of tone to his voice. It's freaky to think about...
I told him in the past that he worries me because he opens himself up to everyone's problems and he's a good listener, but outside of relationship stuff... I think this is the first big problem he's told me about. We've had conversations where we talked about stuff in his past but nothing "current" seemed to happen. There was one thing though, but I didn't know it was even happening until his girlfriend came over to my house one day and burst into tears when she told me. He hid that pretty well, almost.
This though.. he's opened up to me and it's almost weird because I've gone though something similar over 8 years ago.
I don't know if he's close with his grandma (it seems he is with his emotional response), but either way she is a part of his identity and family history and it's just really kinda.. devastating to think about the fact he's losing that and that there isn't anything that anyone can do about it. He isn't a control freak, but he does like it when there is something he can do about something and gets really quiet and uncomfortable otherwise. With his girlfriend though, she has sensed that he's wanted to help her out of her family situation but whenever she talked about it with him she just wanted him to listen and not really say much about it since there wasn't anything else he could do. It was a tense time for them.
With an impending death though, that is a whole other can of worms. Listening in on how he reacts in the months ahead is... definitely going to be different. It hurts me to think about but I cannot imagine what him or his family is going through. Yes, there is the prior experience with Nicole but she had fought for 2 years before passing on. With his grandma, it seems like they found out very recently and that she didn't get a chance to fight it off. Five fucking months. That's terrifying.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Jobs and other things
At the beginning of this year, dad called up a place in California that he used to work at to see if there were any jobs available for him. Almost all the same people were still there so they said "Yeah, come down for an interview!" and so he flew down there for a couple of days and did the interview.
Now, we're in Washington so if he had gotten the job then, he would have had to either move down there and send money to us (mom, aunt and I) while maintaining a cheap rent OR the company would begin to branch into the pacific northwest and he'd work up here. Although, they called him back up and said that there are no jobs available for him at that time and to call back in 6 months.
Well lately, him and the company have been talking and they have a job for him!
The thing is, he might end up having to live down in California if the offer is good enough. He'd need to get paid at least 20 dollars an hour so he can pay his rent (my grandpa-his dad-offered up his RV for dad to live in for 300 dollars a month) and for his food and such as well as to send money for us.
Meanwhile, mom has started working A LOT more often because one of her coworkers had to quit. That coworker is pregnant and the workplace is supremely stressful since all of the corporate people are complete fucking idiots. Everyone there is basically tearing their hair out. There was a time recently though where mom was trying to prepare herself in case she was going to lose her job because their store (it's a Blockbuster) is apparently easy to steal from so everyone was going to blame the employees and fire everyone. I don't think that is going to happen now since one of the higher-up authority people came in for a shift and saw how much was ripped off while she was there and realized that the employees can't stay at til and wander around the store to keep people from stealing at the same time.
My aunt's work has also had it's problems and she got worried for a bit that she was losing HER job so it's been really... tight around here. It's been stressful.
It seems to be starting to turn around a little now which is fucking awesome. It feels kinda like my prayers are being answered :3
Speaking of prayers, I've been reading my copy of When I See the Wild God by Ly de Angeles. The only sort of religion that I grew up with was Wicca, but my family and I haven't actively practiced it for many years. Dad doesn't seem to have any sort of religious faith in anything whereas my mom and aunt are into Gnostic sort of ideals. Me? I'm staying in this sort of paganism path because it is what feels right and I am putting my focus on the Celtic panthenon first and if that doesn't work out, then I'll explore other options. However, this one feels like it fits right into not only what I believe but also my heritage. Part of my family comes from Ireland and and another part is from Scotland.. it wouldn't be suprising if there is some Welsh blood in there somewhere too.
Either way, some part of me is... separated quite painfully from Ireland and everytime I see a picture of that land, it becomes a little more unbearable to be *here* in the States than *there*. It isn't just a "I want to go to Ireland" kind of thing. I want to LIVE there for a while and study the ancient beliefs and dig into the land. I want to weave myself into the World Tree.
..hm... the best way to really explain it is that part of me belongs there. I love my country, but this longing to find a more suitable home is trying to pull me to Ireland.
In the meantime, I am studying up on the Celtic panthenon. I haven't started practicing yet nor have I declared myself to be fully "wiccan" or what have you. There is still a lot more to uncover before I dive into the rituals and titles. I want to commit myself to this.
Now, we're in Washington so if he had gotten the job then, he would have had to either move down there and send money to us (mom, aunt and I) while maintaining a cheap rent OR the company would begin to branch into the pacific northwest and he'd work up here. Although, they called him back up and said that there are no jobs available for him at that time and to call back in 6 months.
Well lately, him and the company have been talking and they have a job for him!
The thing is, he might end up having to live down in California if the offer is good enough. He'd need to get paid at least 20 dollars an hour so he can pay his rent (my grandpa-his dad-offered up his RV for dad to live in for 300 dollars a month) and for his food and such as well as to send money for us.
Meanwhile, mom has started working A LOT more often because one of her coworkers had to quit. That coworker is pregnant and the workplace is supremely stressful since all of the corporate people are complete fucking idiots. Everyone there is basically tearing their hair out. There was a time recently though where mom was trying to prepare herself in case she was going to lose her job because their store (it's a Blockbuster) is apparently easy to steal from so everyone was going to blame the employees and fire everyone. I don't think that is going to happen now since one of the higher-up authority people came in for a shift and saw how much was ripped off while she was there and realized that the employees can't stay at til and wander around the store to keep people from stealing at the same time.
My aunt's work has also had it's problems and she got worried for a bit that she was losing HER job so it's been really... tight around here. It's been stressful.
It seems to be starting to turn around a little now which is fucking awesome. It feels kinda like my prayers are being answered :3
Speaking of prayers, I've been reading my copy of When I See the Wild God by Ly de Angeles. The only sort of religion that I grew up with was Wicca, but my family and I haven't actively practiced it for many years. Dad doesn't seem to have any sort of religious faith in anything whereas my mom and aunt are into Gnostic sort of ideals. Me? I'm staying in this sort of paganism path because it is what feels right and I am putting my focus on the Celtic panthenon first and if that doesn't work out, then I'll explore other options. However, this one feels like it fits right into not only what I believe but also my heritage. Part of my family comes from Ireland and and another part is from Scotland.. it wouldn't be suprising if there is some Welsh blood in there somewhere too.
Either way, some part of me is... separated quite painfully from Ireland and everytime I see a picture of that land, it becomes a little more unbearable to be *here* in the States than *there*. It isn't just a "I want to go to Ireland" kind of thing. I want to LIVE there for a while and study the ancient beliefs and dig into the land. I want to weave myself into the World Tree.
..hm... the best way to really explain it is that part of me belongs there. I love my country, but this longing to find a more suitable home is trying to pull me to Ireland.
In the meantime, I am studying up on the Celtic panthenon. I haven't started practicing yet nor have I declared myself to be fully "wiccan" or what have you. There is still a lot more to uncover before I dive into the rituals and titles. I want to commit myself to this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)