Can't the Golden Rule Just Guide Humanity? Seriously????

I am way too sensitive, a condition of which I am well aware.


I am flawed in a hundred different ways.  I am disorganized.  I'm cranky.  I don't do well without set, drop-dead due dates.  I am goofy when I should sometimes be serious.  My wardrobe is pretty pathetic.  My eyebrows need to be done.  My car might just be radioactive.  I swear like a sailor.


You probably get the idea.


But I am never cruel.


I have the typical human knee-jerk reaction of being pissed off when, for example: 


* Certain ex-husbands who shall remain nameless set up a special outing with the daughter they haven't seen in weeks, ask their ex-wives to spend an additional hour and a half in a car driving said daughter there, then don't show up or even answer the phone, text messages, or e-mails, forcing the ex-wife to try to explain to the sobbing daughter why exactly it's wrong to say that Daddy's a bad person.  Oh, this is particularly egregious when the ex-husband involved owes the ex-wife in question $500.  Just saying ...


* People drag me into drama that does not concern me.  I do not get involved in drama.  I hate drama.  I went on the "Oh, let's make fun of people, isn't it a good time?" trip, the "Let's pick apart every little thing that person does because my friend doesn't like her" vacation for awhile last year, and you know what?  It makes you feel like crap inside after awhile.  I'm out of that, totally out of that.  I made an active choice to remove myself from the set of Mean Girls, and getting pulled back into it when I didn't do a freaking thing is frustrating.


* When your ability to do your job effectively is called into question by fools who have no idea how to be an English teacher.  I once had someone say to me, "All that kids in your class do is read, write, and have discussions."  I was royally pissed off for about thirty seconds ... then I started laughing because, damn, they'd just paid me a hell of a compliment.  But sometimes it's hard to suck up the crap people sling around.  I have never once had my integrity as a teacher questioned by a person whose opinion meant anything to me.  It's easy, though, to say, "Consider the source" and something else again to do it.


Which brings me back to the title of the post.


Let anyone who's never committed a sin throw stones at glass houses (how's that for combining ;-)?), and I guarantee you that ... well, it'd be quiet.


Look, we all suck on some level, in some verb tense.  I used to suck, sucked, will strive to never again suck, but ...


Well, you get it, I'm sure.


Shut the heck up, get over yourself and your stupid childish  mentality, and focus on you.  Look in the mirror, think about what role you play in any of the drama you're so worked up about, and own what belongs to you.


I think you might be surprised, seriously.


If every person in the world could just stop and think about the ramifications of their own misbehavior, to presume positive intentions in others, and to keep their mouths shut if it doesn't involve saying something nice or adopting a "live and let live" policy, the world would be an infinitely better place.


Look, I know I'm living in a world of rainbows and dancing fairies and hobbits.  Just because I make a concerted effort to treat others well or at least to give them common courtesy doesn't mean that others can or will or maybe even should.


But it also drudges up the cynical crystals still floating inside of myself, and the idea of those joining together and changing me because some people are rude, inconsiderate, bullying, lying, hypocritical ... "stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerfherder" ...


Just be good to each other ... it's not that freaking hard!


**Okay, rant over ... my apologies :-)**

Casey Anthony, the Judicial System, and Me

While I am completely disgusted by the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial, I am not surprised. The fact that this young woman lied repeatedly, made up lies to support her lies, and then lied about many of the said lies speaks to her character.

I have no doubt that she was responsible for the death of her young daughter, and I know that she will one day have to answer to a higher power.

It's just that the American judicial system wasn't it.

Some are outraged by the not-guilty verdict, speaking out vehemently against jurors and posting Facebook chains in remembrance of little Caylee. It's kind of a knee-jerk thing, and I can completely relate to that--my most recent status update is, "Karma's a birch ... hopefully Casey Anthony (and others who don't follow the golden rule) will get that memo. Soon!" (the autocorrect on my Droid is kind of a pain sometimes).

Others are looking at it more objectively, suggesting that the prosecution should have gone for a lesser charge or citing the so-called "CSI Effect" (namely, that jurors expect indisputable physical evidence in order to convict, since that's how it happens on television).

Me, I'm just resigned to the weaknesses in a system that allows this sort of thing to happen.

My distrust in the legal world probably comes in part from the fact that my father is a lawyer and I spent much of my childhood hearing courtroom stories, and I'm sure the fictional trial in Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird plays a role as well, but the real reason is more personal.

It's ironic that the verdict of the Casey Anthony trial has coincided with my ex-husband's most recent trip down Alcohol Alley, but perhaps that's not a bad thing.

I have a lot of really good friends and a wonderful family. I know that I am loved, and I feel incredibly blessed for all that I have. The support I've received from legions of people during the whole divorce debacle has kept my belief in the basic goodness of human beings from faltering.

I am very aware of the degree of detail I go into in terms of my personal life on this blog. On Facebook, however, I don't hold much back.

Anyone who is my friend on Facebook has been a party to the roller coaster ride that has accompanied my unwilling journey aboard Pythagorus' alcoholic antics, most recently a night during the last week in June.

Facebook statuses from that night include, "Driving my ex-husband to his house (two hours) from the hospital. The wine fumes are killing me (sorry, there has to be SOME levity ...)", "I could not make up my f***ing life ...", and "I am home. Should anyone need me, I'll be up all night writing an exam."

For years now, I've been advised to "move on", to leave him alone, to not help him when he asks for it, to ignore him and forget him and otherwise extend a metaphorical middle finger rather than an olive branch.

But I can't.

It has nothing to do with Pythagorus.

Anyone who knows me in real life is aware that I would do anything in my power to help another person, that you couldn't ask me to do something that I wouldn't do, that I would willingly sacrifice my happiness, my safety, my health, and my sanity if it would behoove another person, even a complete stranger. (And I don't say this because I think I'm great, by the way ... honestly, this is probably my fatal flaw)

The truth is this. If I'd just ingested two gallons of water and Pythagorus was on fire in front of me, I'd cross the road and pee across the street. With a smile on my face.

There is not another person on earth I could say that about. A lot of people have hurt me, some of them very badly, but I would help them nonetheless. See, I don't matter all that much to me.

But my children? They are my life, the sunshine of my universe, and Pythagorus has hurt both of them repeatedly and continuously for years now.

And unless he drops dead, I am powerless to keep him from hurting Belle each and every day. (Where he's not Addie's biological father, she doesn't have to deal with him directly anymore--you could say the damage has been done--except she is incredibly close to her little sister and she feels Belle's pain)

Which brings me back to the American judicial system.

As Belle's father, Pythagorus has the legal right to see her.

It doesn't matter if he blows off his nightly phone call for a week and she becomes physically ill with worry.

It doesn't matter if he is arrested for DWI multiple times within a one month period.

It doesn't matter if he is completely tanked when he calls or visits with her.

It doesn't matter if he loses any job he manages to get.

It doesn't matter that he has to hold some kind of record for the number of times one person has entered a hospital emergency room with a blood alcohol level over .40 (and, no, that's not a typo).

As her father, he has the legal right to see her. Period.

And because Belle is my heart and soul, I do everything I can to make the whole situation easier for her.

I'm civil, even pleasant, to Pythagorus on the phone (I talk to him first to find out whether or not he's drunk, since there's a lot of processing that I have to do with Belle when he's not in his right mind).

I supervise their visits because Belle does not trust many people, and Pythagorus has to "approve" of who'll be doing the supervising (trust me, I'd love to let my mother or my sister do the supervising ... it's not like I enjoy it).

I lied and gave him a job reference under my maiden name so he could obtain employment.

I speak positively about Pythagorus to Belle. He was, for example, an incredible father when she was a baby. She was an early riser (4:30 a.m. was pretty standard), and he would let me sleep in on weekend mornings, taking her to Wal-Mart to look at the fish and to parks and stuff.

She hears plenty of good things about him, and it comes from me. Furthermore, I make sure that Addie understands that she is never to bash Pythagorus to Belle; it's unfair and pointless, and besides, Belle's not stupid--she sees what he is.

The fact that Belle has any regard whatsoever for her father is because I have gone way above and beyond what any sane person would expect to maintain it. Even while Pythagorus sabotages Belle's love for him over and over again, I have for years done everything in my power to keep it alive.

Because of the judicial system.

On June 21st, Pythagorus called me on the home phone and asked me to come pick him up at the hospital that's ten minutes away from my house. He was drunk as a skunk and I had to write a final exam to give the next morning, but I drove him home. When we got to his father's house, I reinjured my back trying to get him out of the car, and his father finally had to call his cousin to get him out.

When Belle and I called him a few nights later, he was completely trashed on the phone and made plans to go to Chuck E. Cheese the next day. Belle was very excited, of course, and of course we didn't end up going to Chuck E. Cheese the next day. I was, of course, the one who had to process that whole disappointment with Belle.

He called me a few nights after that, once again gracing the emergency room of a nearby hospital with a staggeringly high blood alcohol level, and once again wanting me to pick him up and drive him home. I told him that I didn't have anyone to watch Belle and that I couldn't let her see him like that. He, of course, did not take that news kindly and screamed some pretty awful things at me. Yes, because I didn't want his daughter to see him so intoxicated that it took three people to drag him out of a car.

My mother freaked out on me for trying to help him after this latest episode. My doctor, who I had to see once again for my re-hurt back, told me I had to stop enabling him. My friends and family think I should just tell him to go to hell and have said as much.

I did have an epiphany of sorts after Belle's last visit with him (it lasted less than an hour, and he spent much of the time in the bathroom, no doubt vomiting up the vestiges of cheap wine), though. When I asked him why his father had driven him to Chuck E. Cheese, he finally admitted that he'd obtained another DWI.

Later that afternoon, I decided to Google his name and DWI, just to see if his DWI had been the 21st of June or the next week (the time I refused to pick him up because of having Belle with me). Imagine my surprise to learn that his DWI was the first week in June. The first week!

I knew for a fact that he'd driven after that date (Belle and I met him for a short lunch on Fathers Day, and he drove himself), and putting that knowledge with the two subsequent drunken ER phone calls makes my blood run cold. He could easily have killed someone (and it probably wouldn't have been himself--drunks seem to possess a warped kind of luck) driving in that condition, and I can only imagine what Belle would go through if she had to live her life knowing that her pathetic drunken loser of a father had killed a minivan full of children or whatever.

That was when I decided that I'm done.

But, you see, I really can't be done. Because of--you guessed it--the judicial system in America.

Try this on for size. Pythagorus goes to jail. Finds God. Goes to an inpatient rehab center for several months. Obtains employment. Wants to up the ante in terms of his visitation with Belle.

I am not convinced that the legal system wouldn't say, "Sure, he's gone through treatment, he's her father and he has the right to see her, let's give it a try." Despite the fact that he's gone through extensive inpatient treatment (including a memorable four month long stint) as well as outpatient, partial inpatient, AA, and so on before and it clearly didn't work, the judicial system doesn't deal in potential worst case scenarios.

Which leads me back to Casey Anthony.

Could she have killed her daughter? Of course. I don't think that anyone in the world would argue that the possibility (heck, even the probability) is there.

But because there wasn't a sense of reasonable surety on the part of her jury, Casey Anthony will soon be a free woman.

Could my ex-husband conceivably be legally permitted to have Belle in a car that he's driving someday? Well, sure ... because we can't infringe on his rights based on a 'could be', namely that his extensive history of drinking and driving and otherwise emotionally torturing his child doesn't prove with reasonable surety that he would do so again.

Americans are afforded a great many freedoms, not the least of which is the presumption of innocence. While this isn't inherently a bad thing, I believe that it's why Casey Anthony was found not guilty of killing her daughter ...

And it reminds me of the gut-wrenching fears I have regarding my own daughter's safety.

Sunday Stealing: The Nameless Fourth of July Meme

And now it's time once again for Sunday Stealing, which has somehow become a staple under the "highlight of the week" category for me. Good thing, because I'm having kind of a rough week ...

1. Last movie you saw in a theater?
Oh my gosh, I think it was Hop. That's completely unacceptable, since it wasn't even a good movie. Anybody want to go to the movies ;-)? Well, I'm seeing Harry Potter 7-II in another week and a half, so that'll be some redemption, anyway.

2. What book are you reading?
One of my students encouraged me to read his favorite book series, The Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan. In general, I always read books that students recommend, but young adult literature is not my favorite, so I've struggled a bit with that this year.

Well, this kid is awesome, and I think it really hurt his feelings that I was dragging my feet, so I finally brought the first two books home on a weekend a couple of weeks before school ended and plowed through them. They were really good.

He brought in the next two, and I finished them pretty quickly.

This young man was then faced with something of a dilemma. You see, he's pretty familiar with my desk, my lack of organization, and so on.

He finally said, "Ms. Loud, I'm considering lending you the next books in the series to read over the summer, but I have to know. Do you lose books?"

I laughed. "Nope. I sometimes spill pizza on them and fold over the pages instead of using bookmarks and occasionally fall asleep and drool on them, but I never lose books."

I'm on the eighth book right now, with two more to go :-)

3. Favorite board game?
Either Trivial Pursuit (I'm a fountain of useless information) or Scattergories (because I always win :-)).

4. Favorite magazine?
People. I have an unhealthy obsession with celebrity gossip.

5. Favorite smells?
The ocean, apple pie cooking, and lilacs.

6. Favorite sounds?
My seven-year-old daughter's sweet little voice, especially when unexpected (and inappropriate) things come out of it accidentally and just sound so funny that you have to bite back the laughter while you're dishing out the discipline.

To wit, Addie, Belle, and I were cleaning the living room (like, deep cleaning ... removing all furniture, bleaching baseboards and such. Hard core), and Addie decided to alphabetize the DVDs. Why? I have no idea. But anyway, she did, and she talked her sister into helping her. I went to Subway to get lunch while they spread out stacks of movies all over the room. When I got back, the following conversation transpired.

Addie: I just realized that I am missing five--five--of my Harry Potter movies!
Belle: (mumbling so I won't hear what she's saying and taking on a bratty tone as she prepares to antagonize her sister) That means you only have two left.
Addie: You're a dick!
Me: (to Belle, since I had no idea what had brought forth such a reaction from the usually mild-mannered Addie) What did you say?
Belle: Oh, she said, 'You're a dick!'

Oh my gosh, it was so hard not to laugh ...

7. Worst feeling in the world?
Getting a phone call from a drunk Pythagorus asking for me to come get him and drive him home (a two hour drive), reinjuring my back when trying to drag him out of the car, then having him call a couple of days later and act like nothing happened. He has fallen off the wagon three times in the past two weeks. In fact, I think his wagon has totally derailed. Belle is a mess, I am just sick and tired of the whole situation, and I want to scream.

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
Where is my phone? Yes, I sleep with my phone. No, I don't think it's healthy. And no, it's not dirty ... it's because I sleep deeply and my phone is also my alarm clock. And when I get the occasional text at midnight, I like to be able to hear it.

9. Favorite fast food place?
This is horrible, but I'm kind of a fan of McDonald's french fries. I also used to really enjoy the Baconator from Wendy's before my pancreas decided to go nuclear every time I eat something with that much fat in it.

10. What’s under your bed?
A bunch of boxes belonging to my mother. When you live in the attic of your mother's barn, you have to work around boxes of stuff belonging to her. It makes for an interesting storage situation ... and that's all I have to say about that.

11. Finish this statement. “If I had lot of money I’d….?
Buy a house of my own (not a mansion or anything, just a real house), set up trust funds for Addie and Belle for after they graduate from college, give a sizable amount to my mother, my father, my sister, and my brother, and donate the rest to a good charity. And yes, I'm serious.

12. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
Nope. I believe I already mentioned that I sleep with my phone. What's more fun than an object that states, "DROID" at all hours?

13. Storms – cool or scary?
Scary!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In fact, storms are probably my biggest fear :-(

14. Favorite drink?
Captain and Coke ... or apple juice if we're talking non-alcoholic.

15. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would….”?
Organize my stuff instead of adding to the mass of crap in my rented storage unit each time the attic barn starts to really overflow.

16. If you had to dye your hair another color, what would be your choice?
I'd probably go for green or pink or something really crazy. Otherwise, what would be the point of dyeing my hair ;-)?

17. Favorite place to relax?
The beach.

18. Name all the different cities/towns you’ve lived in?
Dover, Portsmouth, Plymouth, North Hampton. All in New Hampshire. Man, am I boring ;-)

19. Favorite sports to watch?
On TV, baseball or football. In person, hockey.

20. Would you like to be born as yourself again?
Only if I could give myself a number of caveats first.

And I guess that's all she wrote.  One quick request ... if y'all could send happy thoughts to the amazing Bud Weiser of WTIT, Sunday Stealer extraordinaire, who had surgery on Friday, I'd much appreciate it, and I'm sure he would, too.