• It’s like the kid’s living my life

    It’s too nice to be outside, but lunch is too short to stay out. It’s a classic worker’s delema, but not one I face often. Most of the time I’m not paying close enough attention, holed up in my little corner of invisible, government service. Today I’m a little burned out – thus the walk-about at lunch. Life’s been a little harder lately, intruding on my work, making it harder to focus on any one thing.

    There’s a simple name for this condition: depression. It’s a recurring theme, one that bores even me.

    More than anything else in my life (caveat: I’m living in the moment), kids are a source of peaks and valleys. Beth is a magnet for bullies. She has been since her first day in day care. She’s attracted another batch of little cretins this year (see, I’m not above being mean either… revenge is a dish easiest served unnoticed). Yesterday the culprit wasn’t just one, it was a team effort. A group of classmates trapped her in a school restroom, after a few kicks, shoves, and turning out the lights for good measure. The school is apparently addressing the situation, but not to my immediate liking. I can appretiate the bind schools find themselves in when bullying occurs with out reliable witnesses, but as a parent, nothing is ever soon enough. A part of me feels that a calm approach is best, that we shoud speak to the school with a certain amount of understanding for their position, while still holding calmly firm in our expectation that something will be done.

    That’s a nice sentiment, but not terribly realistic when Beth is so worried about school she’s sick to her stomach. My first instinct was to make her go to school today, but my heart felt weak and tired, so she stayed home – safe for now. But what about tomorrow? The little twerps really know they got to her now… that they won. What kind of punishment can overcome that kind of empowerment?

    The principal says if it happens again the kids will be suspended. In the adult world this kind of behavior approaches kidnapping. Is a warning enough? I don’t expect a day in the stocks, but a warning?

  • Urban jungle

    Do you know where you fit on the highway food chain? Were you even aware it exists? My father always used to joke about New England drivers, saying “when you’re on Rt 128, making eye contact is a sign of weakness. They’ll have you for lunch.”

    I think I’ve written about this before, but I’m not sure I’ve properly accounted for my place in the traffic circle of life. Admittedly, this is a touchy subject right now, but I figure it’s never a bad time to make fun of myself.

    Somewhere in this deep, dark (and somewhat empty) depository most of you call your brain (I alternate between various, unflattering pet names), I know I’m not the best driver in the world. However, my enviable driving record (according to state and local records) and a natural tendency to find fault with the other guy first, gives me an inflated sense of self worth (in this very limited context). In short, I fancy myself quite the driving stud – something I feel you’re entitled to just for driving a stick.

    That said, I had a kind of anti-epiphany this morning on the drive to work. I was desperate for a lane change and running a little late; but remarkably, the beast (my driving alter-ego) left me ever so slightly self aware. I realized I was looking for a weak member of the herd. In that moment I realized I was not the benevolent driver I aspired to be – or sticking with the ecology metaphor – the large, harmless herbivore of the road. I was on the hunt, a predator looking for a meal.

    I saw it in the form of a license plate advertising a community called “On Top Of The World.” For those of you not familiar with the Tampa Bay area, On Top of the World is a large retirement development that helped make the area “God’s waiting room” in the ’70s and ’80s. It was an elderly driver behind me in the other lane, but it might as well have been blood in the water.

    While that small part of me still rational recoiled, the beast said “it’s good thing I skipped breakfast.”

  • Losing count of the strikes

    Cheryl already thinks I’m crazy. Who doesn’t by now? Get in line. The latest chapter in “I haven’t got a clue how your mind works” is my desire to get a case for my iPhone. Sounds pretty reasonable, right? Oh, all right, I’ll admit I’ve already got a case I love. But I only love it sometimes. It’s perfect when I’m at home, when I just want to put it down. The thick leather rim in front is just enough to keep the device from laying down on it’s glass face. It’s thin enough to not be obtrusive, yet just thick enough to give it a little extra padding for those times it gets a little jostle around the house.

    And it’s not at all what I want for carrying it around at work. For work I want a hip holster. Bulky objects in pockets tend to get bent, and the last thing I want to do is put a crease in a $200 phone. I want something where it will lay sideways on my hip, so it’s not in the way when I bend over. I don’t want a case with a built-in clip. Those things are a nuisance – I don’t care where you are. By the time you work the funky clip off your belt (seemingly welded on), your call has gone to voicemail. The phone is just as likely to end up across the room as in my ear (I tend to throw first and ask questions later.) Nope, a holster is the only way to go. But not at home. Who wants to carry a phone on their hip at home? I may be a bit of a geek, but even I’m not quite that bad.

    So I need two cases for my iPhone? Is that so wrong?