jesus addict

I sometimes refer to my mother as a jesus addict. To me, I see her clinging to religion to try to convince herself that this gives her some measure of control over her life. It saddens me.

I don't know what goes on in her mind, nor can I really find out, but I think her actions are representative of who she is. She does not like being questioned, even on the smallest issues, about her position. Sometimes her argument is "Isn't it obvious?" If it's so obvious, it should be easy to defend.

It's gotten in the way of her job. It has disrupted our family life. She's been disrespectful towards others because of their faith or lack thereof. She's used money earmarked for bills, clothes, food, among other things, for tithing. She's ignored her children in favor of praying. (I have a vivid memory of tugging on her sleeve, bleeding rather profusely from a cut finger, and her swatting me away, saying she was praying.) She's gotten into a couple car accidents while praying; at least once because she didn't have control of the car because she had one hand in praise position (I can only vouch for this one, because I was in the car, although she has mentioned being distracted while driving because she's praying for the others).

But mostly, and most importantly, it hasn't made her any happier. If anything, it seems like it's made her more unhappy. She overeats and procrastinates. There isn't any lightness in her being. And there's always a frown on her face.

I'm not saying that everyone who's Christian is an addict, although that is often my first thought. In this case, though, it seems like it to me. Though it's not like I could take her to a rehab program to detox her, since her drug is inside her head.

Writing this has made me feel sad. I don't think I'll speak of this anymore.

catchphases?

So Violent Acres is having a catchphrase contest. Let's see if I can make the top ten, or something...

It's not as if I'm going to look into my angry-bag and see I've run out of angry.
And they say forthrightness isn't sexy...
More useful than tits on a nun.

Yeah, that's perhaps adequate. Maybe I'll think of something better later.

Edit: I hate it when people take logic and ram it up god's ass

a fetish for obeidiance.

I have a little brother. He's 15, and he has Downs syndrome, Trisomy 21. In his way, he's observant and intelligent. I know to some that will make no sense, but he can manipulate and play my parents like a virtuoso pianist, better than I ever could. I bewilder him, apparently, because I'm much harder to manipulate -- I won't say I can't be manipulated, though.

Anyway, he's realized that being bad gets him attention. Good for him, I want to say, I never had the guts to be bad, only delinquent. So he's being openly disobeidiant, running away from mother at church, not doing as she says when she says it, that sort of thing. Things like getting ready for bed become a contest of wills. She argues from authority, and he just wants control of himself.

Mother gets frustrated with him easily and often, and sometimes shouts at him, "Just obey!"

I find that mildly disturbing.

I mean, you'd think by now she'd learn some behavior management skills and put them into use. I understand that he's not a robot, and I respect that he has his own thoughts and feelings, and I genuinely value him and his contributions. When I talk to him about getting ready for bed, he's more open to it than if I just tell him to get ready for bed. It doesn't always work, and I don't expect it to. Sometimes I have to find a different tact, sometimes two or three, to undo the damage that's left over from mother and father being "authoritative."

This damage, though, is now crossing over into his school life.

I don't know how patient his teachers are. I don't know if they're as observant or respectful of my little brother as I am. I doubt it. So when he feels like he's had one order too many, he acts out. Or he feels ignored, and acts out. I look for his behavioral tics, and I usually stem off some of this. Like, if he feels ignored, he'll start giggling. I'll suggest to everyone that we take a couple deep breaths, and he usually does. It calms him enough to start participating in the conversation. But one of the best "behavior management" techniques is just talking with him and paying attention to him.

I've noticed, if I spend fifteen or twenty minutes talking with him about school while playing a game, or reading a book and asking him what he thinks of it, his behavior is generally much better for the rest of the day, and in part of the next.

Mother is too busy praying, usually, to do this.

She wants to medicate him. This angers me; she wants to drug him so he's more manageable? What's the fun in being manageable, in just doing what you're told without questioning it?

I want him to make good choices, which means I want him to retain his ability to make bad ones, and hopefully learn from the consequences.

Because, if you can't make a bad choice, then there's really no choice at all...

heh, technorati.

Technorati Profile
So I caved and joined technorati. I'm just a dirty lil attention whore, aren't I?

Screwed up people tend to be screwed up.

Well, at least people who wallow in it.

My mother, who I generally don't get along with, was molested when she was 13-14. She has control issues, probably because of that. If it is because of that, then that's her problem.

I know, sounds cold. But when you get past a certain age, the crap that happened in your childhood starts to be under your control. That is, you can let it control you, or you can accept it for what it was, how it changed you, and you know, move on. If you're going to be all, mommy didn't care, daddy didn't love me, blah blah blah, thirty years after the fact, then you haven't moved on. You're still stuck there.

I have some crap. Occasionally, it sneaks up on me and then practically hits me on the head with a frying pan. It can be annoying. Usually, I see it, and it's like, oh, that's what that was... and I move on. I don't think mom does that.

I could list the things mother does that leads me to that conclusion, but it's more than sufficient to say that they're controlling and manipulative behaviors. And whenever I say something to that point, she gets angry. Without fail. It's frustrating from my point of view, because she's so stuck in this past drama that she can't -- maybe won't -- grow.

I'm certainly not perfect, but I do think my point of view is relevant.

Something that bewilders me.

There are people who come through drive-thru and just order drinks, usually diet. Now, I have no problem with people drinking diet; it could be that they like the taste better than regular soda, or are diabetic, or trying to loose some weight. Those are all pretty good reasons to drink diet.

But what bewilders me is two pronged... why are you going through drive-thru to buy soda, and why don't you go next door to the convenience store to buy it?


Soda at my McDonald's currently costs $1.07 for 12 and 16 oz, $1.59 for 21 oz, and $2.02 for 32 oz. Next door, the prices usually run around $1.30 for a 20 oz and about $1.50 for a liter (it depends on what you get). However, those are just for the bottles; they've had a sale going for their fountain drinks -- any size, 69¢.

So really, go there. You can even park your car in the parking lot if it's not terribly busy. The *cough* fresh air and exercise will do you good.

Why I knit

I knit. I admit it. And I enjoy doing it. Terrible, really.

I started knitting after mother called me lazy. Just to be perverse. Because it's hard to call someone lazy when they have knitting on their lap.

I made some potholders, then I decided to stop dicking around and get to it. My first real project was an entrelac shawl made with noro silk garden. (entrelac is a method of knitting that makes the fabric look like woven strips; noro silk garden cost me $85) Not the lady Eleanor shawl, but close to it; it's called "kaleidoscope" and it's from Donna Kooler's Encyclopedia of Knitting, my first knitting book. I taught myself how to knit backwards working on it.

It wasn't hard, per se, just difficult. I had to constantly remind myself of basic stuff, like how to purl. I survived it, and it's still survived. I gave it to my sister, and it looks a lot better on her than me. I've done cables, socks, intarsia, and my personal favorite, cabled intarsia in the round. What was I thinking? That project is now sitting on my lap, waiting to be finished up and then sent off to its recipient. Nothing's been as difficult as teaching myself Trig. And damnit, if I can teach myself trig, I can so do anything.

Regardless of what mother says.

it doesn't feel good to be an asshole, or why I'm "nice."

I think most people think that they're nice. I don't know why. Working in drive-thru, I can say that most people don't put forth the effort to be nice -- most people are either neutral or assholes, with only one or two being nice before I'm nice to them.

A lot of people seem simply reciprocal, following lex talionis to treat others as they treat you, or worse. I think this is the norm, even for people who proclaim to be religious. I personally, treat others how I'd like to be treated not because some old book tells me to, but because it makes me feel good. That's all. No other reason; any other would be bullshit. Is some "niceness" wasted on people? YES. I imagine Violent Acres would say, "Absofuckinglutely." Perhaps without the fucking? It doesn't bother me, it's not as if one day I'm going to look into my nice-sack and realize that I've run out of nice.

One day, I decided to be an asshole. Just for experiment's sake, because I think you can't really say your position is best without at least trying to see it from the other point of view. It wasn't huge; I stopped smiling, I refused to make eye contact, I bitched about customers. It just didn't feel good to me. So I don't do it.

It's hard to be nice to asshole customers, but it feels worse to be an asshole back at them. If I can, I'll ignore what mildly annoys me; I mean, who are they, who are in my life for maybe whole 90 seconds to get under my skin?

This doesn't mean that I won't make fun of someone. I sometimes post on yahoo! answers, if someone asks a stupid question, one that should've been googled to solve, or is appealing to ridicule, then I'll make fun of them.

"Do Marines wear panties?" asks an apparently overproud soldier. "Sure! They also skip rope, put their hair in pigtails, play with pretty ponies, and have pillow fights. And they do all that better than anyone in the Army."

"Do you think pearl harbor was an inside job?"
"George W. Bush stole a time-traveling DeLorean, went back to 1941, and used his godly powers to confuse innocent Japanese civilians into innocent Japanese planes and drop his evil bombs of evilness on evil american battleships of oppression and also evilness.
The purpose was to get Japan's oil. When he got back to the future, he was ashamed to learn japan never had oil. he would've changed it, but the DeLorean was hit by a train at that moment."

Stuff like that. It doesn't make me popular; people take themselves way too seriously. Or maybe dripping sarcasm doesn't transmit well over the internet? But it's fun for me.

In the meantime...

I've joined the Navy. For a lot of reasons, I'm not shipping out until October 2. In the meantime, I'm working at McDonald's, living with my parents, and hoping not to go crazy, somehow.

I've taken to calling this in-between time my "meantime." I see other people with them, in a period of doing something that isn't what they're "meant" to be doing -- whatever THAT means -- but doing it anyway. I'd probably be either bored or depressed if I wasn't working. Or both.