Monthly Archives: May 2012

Sensory overload and Daredevil’s superpowers.

Standard
Sensory overload and Daredevil’s superpowers.

I have been accused of many things over the years, most often lately the offense: “sensitivity.” No seriously. I think that I am very gifted in the intuitive arts for the most part and I have amazing hearing. It’s no surprise to most people who know me. I also have an amazing sense of smell. (Believe me that is more often a curse than a gift.) My sense of smell has “improved” 10 fold since I quit smoking (11 months ago, ahem, patting my own back). It’s akin to my sense of smell when I was pregnant which I promise was no picnic. Anywhoo, the ability to hear very high-pitched sounds and very low range sounds is great when listening for children’s whispers, crying babies, baby bats in tall grass and people in the walls….lol….but as far as everyday life? Its pretty effing annoying and distracting.

Couple that with my inability to focus when I am trying to do something cerebral or even somatic, when the tv or radio is on, the fridge is running, the dryer, the dog’s clickity toe nails, the kids who want something and the fluorescent light in my kitchen and I am a frustrated bitch who has gotten nowhere on her paper and wants to cry.

I have never been one to listen to music while studying or writing, I prefer absolute silence when I am working something out. Maybe that is one of the reasons I really am not a good group member when it comes to scholastic endeavors. I have too many thoughts going through my own head to pay attention to yours, too.

It makes the people around me crazy, I know. My family is always annoyed by me because of it. When this is on top of any kind of stress, it increases. I am like Daredevil on a two week runner of meth. Blind as a bat (my weakness) but I hear and feel alllllll…….Dear sweet ancient baby alien space monkey Jebus help me.

The quarter is almost over. C’mon Summer.

Advertisements

Statistics make me cry and make me feel dumb.

Standard
Statistics make me cry and make me feel dumb.

So I have taken stats 3 times. Associates, bachelors and now graduate. I received an A in the first two. I tried to waive out this time but missed 4 too many on the waiver exam. Every professor teaches it different and while it is a static (haha) thing, I swear it keeps changing.

Riddle me this:

One of my prof’s questions said something to the effect of the mean of ________ was 478 days and the standard deviation is 178 days. So with that line of thinking, as far as a bell curve goes, minus 3 Standard Deviations is -56. Can that be right? Am I crazy? How can I read that wrong?

I hate stats and I will never use it. I will pay someone else lots of money to do it when I grow up.

Roger Waters: The Wall……YOU MUST GO

Standard
Roger Waters: The Wall……YOU MUST GO

Yesterday was just an ordinary day of trying to get my car to pass emissions. You know just spending money on BS. Then someone texted me and offered me a FREE ticket to Roger Waters last night. Of course, I went. It was a once in a life time opportunity.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, the wall is one of my most nostalgic albums. The movie, was once my absolute favorite movie…I was sure the secret to life was held in it somehow….I watched it once as an adult and didn’t quite get it. But last night the small pieces that were intertwined in it made me want to see it again.

I’m not going to be able to encapsulate all that it was, but I will mention some highlights and share some pictures.

The way that Roger Waters juxtaposed and paralleled 1984esque Big Brother mentality, our current government/police state, the ongoing war on “terrorism,” drugs, capitalism, WWII, Iraq, Afghanistan, the London bombings, genocide, shell, BP, Apple, Iphone, Ieverything, Mercedes Benz, banks, bailouts, &(^(@#^$)^_*^&@#$(^#%)( was freaking BRILLIANT.

The light show/projectors, smoke and mirrors, planes, puppets, flying pigs, graffiti and the ACTUAL WALL was amazing.

There is one section of my pics wherein my camera wasnt fast enough. It is a set of pictures that reveal a quote:

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed.” Dwight D. Eisenhower

There was some beautiful breasts in there too 😉

The individual bricks were amazing.

Roger himself looks like Richard Gere these days. And he sounds the same today as he did 30 years ago. It’s just mind-blowing.

It was a cerebral, audio, visual energy pill for my soul.

If you have a chance to go, you would be a fool to pass it up. I am so thankful I didn’t.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Standard

Want to begin the end of poverty? Want to address the profitable prison industrial  complex? Here is a first step. All you have to do is sign your damn name and vote. C’mon Oregon.

For those who can't afford free speech

By Naivasha Dean, Contributing Columnist

Chances are, you’ve signed a petition or two recently. Advocates looking to get their initiatives on the ballot in November must reach 116,283 valid signatures by July 6, and the impending deadline means that they’re ramping up their efforts. Chances are also good that you’ve encountered a signature gatherer that asked you to sign a petition to decriminalize marijuana.

You might already be familiar with the arguments — our current marijuana laws cost too much to enforce, and they don’t work. But what you’ll rarely hear from the person with the clipboard is that the injustices go much deeper than a matter of principle, or a waste of time and money. Oregon’s 475,000 marijuana users are facing even more alarming collateral consequences — especially if they happen to be people of color.

View original post 1,004 more words

You should check out my friend’s blog.

Standard

She is smart. She has some valuable info for you people with kids, who want kids, who work with kids, who like kids.

The above aren’t mutually inclusive or exclusive.

The adventures of Cassandra….super social worker extraordinaire.

Go forth. Read. Do good. Be love.

*You don’t just look at a rainbow, you create it.*

Standard
*You don’t just look at a rainbow, you create it.*

I read this today and I can’t say if it is true or not, but it sounds pretty Sheldon Cooper tight.

I like it.

Thanks Ben.

Enjoy.

The death penalty is a hate crime. Yeah. I said that.

Standard
The death penalty is a hate crime. Yeah. I said that.

My entire life, I had always been a believer in retributive justice. As I began my bachelor’s program (Criminal Justice) with a focus on Constitutional Law, I believed that the only problem with the death penalty was that it was applied yet never used; thus rendering any deterrent effect null and void. It was not a diversion for other people.

Ha.

Now mind you, I have come to different thoughts over the years and no longer believe in the death penalty (except in a very few specific types of DNA verified cases/convictions that I won’t go into now). As a MSW student, there was a discussion today in a class that really made me scratch my head. I have processed and researched my way through the notes I took today and offer this: the students at my school are very keen on discussing the prison industrial complex. They have a particularly different insight into it, from a social work perspective as I do, with a criminology perspective. Obviously, we now have different lenses, but I am coming around to some thoughts that are more in line with my true feelings and theirs, I think…

I digress. Damnit.

The point is the case: McCleskey v. Kemp, 481 U.S. 279 (1987) was brought up and I had never heard of it. The 25th anniversary of this ruling just passed. Which I think is interesting given all the media attention of the Trayvon Martin case and what will surely be a pivotal case in the years to come regarding George Zimmerman. In all my classes, in all my laborious years in law offices and school, not once did I hear of McCleskey v. Kemp. WTF

Is it because I went to school in Idaho? I am not sure, but probably.

In case you too, have never heard of it, here is the gist:

Warren McCleskey was a black man who was convicted of killing a white police officer. After being sentenced to death, McCleskey brought to the attention of the court the Baldus study, which showed that black “criminals” with white “victims” were sentenced to death in Georgia 4x more often than black on black criminals.  Some results: (CP= Capital Punishment, B = black, W= white)

Defendants who kill W get CP in 11% of cases

Defendants who kill B get CP in 1% of cases

CP in 22% cases of B defendant, W victim

CP in 8% cases of W defendant and W victim

CP in 1% of cases of B defendant and B victim

CP in 3% of cases of W defendant and B victim

So black defendants who kill whites have greatest chance of getting CP.

He implied that this meant that his conviction and sentence violated both the Eighth Amendment and the “equal protection” clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. The Supreme Court basically stated that while they were skeptical of the Baldus study, they would apply the findings as rule of law and further stated that they must dismiss evidence of general racial disparities in sentencing, as “an inevitable part of our criminal justice system.”

What?

Government sanctioned racial inequities?

No.

Not in 1987.

Not in 2005, not in New Orleans.

I bet we couldn’t find 10 examples at least everyday in the last 150 years.

Especially not today.

No.

The US is a “magical place” with roads paved with equality and fairness, intersecting justice.

Boo. Mr. McKleskey was executed by electrocution in 1991. Justice Lewis Powell, Junior, who wrote the opinion in his case wrote later that he regretted his decision and every death penalty opinion after that. Too late for Mr. McKleskey. Investigations later revealed enough evidence to have gotten his case retried, as the confidential informant was a police plant with non-eyewitness information. Too late.

Too many cases are realized wrong, too late. According to the Innocence Project: 

There have been 289 post-conviction DNA exonerations in the United States, since 1989.

Races of those 289 exonerees:

180 African Americans
82 Caucasians
21 Latinos
2 Asian American
4 whose race is unknown

I am not insinuating that Warren McKleskey was innocent or that DNA would have exonerated him. I do not know. I am merely using those stats to further illustrate the racial inequities in the judicial system.  I could write a blog everyday about judicial inequities.

Capital punishment is not reparative. It is not restorative. It is punitive and retributive. It is revenge.

It is Code of Hammurabi. Eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth. Life for a life.

Hate Crimes are defined by the FBI as:

“A hate crime is a traditional offense like murder, arson, or vandalism with an added element of bias. For the purposes of collecting statistics, Congress has defined a hate crime as a “criminal offense against a person or property motivated in whole or in part by an offender’s bias against a race, religion, disability, ethnic origin or sexual orientation.” Hate itself is not a crime—and the FBI is mindful of protecting freedom of speech and other civil liberties.”

I think a definite case could be made that as far as the FBI is concerned, sentencing courts could be guilty of hate crimes. The “supreme” court says racial disparities are “…an inevitable part of our criminal justice system.” The death penalty is not restorative justice. It is revenge. It is 4,000 year old bullshit.

Fuck.

Ancient Mother

Standard

I have many mothers. And each has been instrumental in my development as a person and a mother myself. So I say, to all the women (and men) who have stepped up and taken the initiative to assume the role and actually BE mothers to all the children, of all ages that needed one or wanted one, or both: THANK YOU and HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY.

Ode to motherhood:

Standard
Ode to motherhood:

I am the fading echo of my mother’s torment,

the strength she could not find.

Wandering lost for many lives,

trapped by the paths of my mind.

Solace found in the water, fed.

The light has found my dreams.

A heavy haze lifted and showed my own eyes

in them, looking back reflecting.

Her torment passed on; now teaching me.

I took the needle from the groove

and summoned the bridge planks to meet my feet.

Now I am running,

screaming FREE,

for them

and yet

still, for me.

Mother’s Day and my boychild.

Standard
Mother’s Day and my boychild.

I have been lazy with my blog; graduate school and life have been somewhat overwhelmingly paralyzing as of late. So many things are changing in my world, internally and externally; it is hard to keep up sometimes. I know others feel this way, I think it is a consequence of the technological advances, speed of life and perhaps just the global adjustments to energy fluctuations. Who knows why, but it is what it is.

So I have been trying very conscientiously to stay in the moment and to reflect on my feelings and the reasons behind those feelings.

“The beginning of freedom is the realization that you are not the possessing entity, the thinker…” ~Eckhardt Tolle

I digress.

Ok, so maybe trying to stay in the moment and yet reflect are opposing concepts, to some extent, but I am trying. BACK OFF!

Hm. Really what keeps coming to mind this week is the fact that my boychild turns 15 on Monday.

HOLY CRAP.

I remember where I was on my 15th birthday. I had just gone “home” to visit. I was there with my best friend, her soon to be husband, our friend L whom I was supposed to be interested in (cause it would have been very convenient), my first love, and a few friends. My dad made me german chocolate cake. I have pictures. Maybe I will attach one. But to remember that day so clearly, what was going on, the things in my head that I was thinking, its all very surreal to imagine my child being that old and yet being so different from me. Or is he?

I remember going and changing my clothes because the boy I was madly in love with told me he liked me better in a different outfit. We weren’t together. But I did it. I changed my clothes. On my muthatrucking birthday.

I remember falling over in the garage while smoking and hitting my head so hard I blacked out for a few seconds; I was more concerned that people would think how clumsy I was, than whether I had a concussion. I probably did.

I had been living on my own for a couple of years, with and without friends. I was doing things NO 15-year-old should do.

I had just gotten my HED, similar to a GED, back before they checked your id for those things.

My son, he does things his own way. Always has. He is not a cookie cutter kid, that is for sure. But he is probably the coolest kid you will ever meet. He reminds me so much of a boy I knew once upon a time, who has a really cool mom. She was constantly challenged, proud and intrigued by the boy. He grew up to be a really good, capable and smart man. I know my boy will too. The way his brain works fascinates and stumps me. To have been privy to his first verbally acknowledged thought processes, wonder about his secret ones and have him share with me his new evolving thought processes is a perpetual gift.

I like to think that he couldn’t live on his own, make his way like I did. But he probably could. He is much more capable than this Mama wants to believe. The conversations that we hold have shown me this. Rather than having a big expensive birthday and presents, he wants me to make him a cake. He wants his grown up friend Matt,  to spend the weekend. So I am going to drive to Eugene to pick Matt up. He doesn’t want me to spend money because money is tight. (which simultaneously breaks my heart that he knows and yet warms my heart that he is probably a little more fiscally responsible than I, because I would have maxed a credit card for a gift had he asked for one.)

He has his 5 year plan in progress. It’s different from the 5 year plan I had for him and the 5 year plan I had for myself at his age. But as he gets older, I realize more and more, it’s not my plan. 🙂 That is the point. I am not the thinker. I get to observe the thinker.

Happy Mother’s Day.