So today I want to talk about another friend of mine from the past. I'm not sure he'd want me to use his real name here so I'm going to call him Claude.
I met him while attending college back in the early 80's. He sat next to me in my Psych 101 class. Both of us were night owls and the class was an 8am class, so more often than not, one of us would be nodding off during it. I think sometimes we used to prop each other up so we could sleep more soundly.
Claude was an interesting guy. He was into a lot of things: music, drama, dance, kung fu, and flying are the ones I remember best. He didn't wear tons of jewelry but what he did wear was tasteful and classy. I remember one ring he wore often, and how badly he felt when he damaged it while he was angry one night. His clothing was stylish but not above his student status. He didn't wear 3-piece suits, although I'm sure he'd have looked fantastic in one. Jeans and a t-shirt, even if his t-shirts were better quality than most.
I remember going out one night and watching him on the dance floor. He had so much motion going on, even when dancing to a slow tune. More energy than most. He was just a joy to watch on the floor, so fluid in movement. That he got me out onto that dance floor is enough for me to praise him forever for doing the impossible. That he made it fun for me and not torture made it even better.
Claude had this ease to him. He made you comfortable just by being near you. He could make you laugh hard enough to cry and he could bring you to tears sometimes with his emotional speeches.
I lost touch with him in the mid 90's and always wondered what had happened to him. Thanks to Facebook, I no longer have to wonder. We are in touch from time to time. He's more guarded now, thanks to life. I haven't talked to him on the phone or in person and I'm not sure I ever will again. But, I do know it sounds like he's doing a job he loves and I know that his magic with people is still there. You can see that by the comments left when he posts anything.
So, to Claude, who knows who he is, I miss the young man I knew and I miss the chance to get to know you for who you are today. But I am glad to have you in my life again, even if it is just on the edge of it. Thanks for answering my email more than a year ago. I've missed you.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
A friend named Scott
I have this friend named Scott. Or maybe friend is the wrong word. Whatever he is to me, he has been part of my life now since 1999, in an on and off again friendship. He's from the part of my lifetime when I was very very into BDSM. He came into my life one night when I was on AOL looking at profiles. I liked his screen name and loved his profile so I sent him an IM and started talking with him. We talked for more than an hour that first night. He's a musician, a guitarist, and he's in a few different bands. I fell for his words, the way he strung his thoughts together in his writings.
Later that fall, I got the chance to meet him. He was coming to CA, to bring a guitar or two to a guy in Long Beach that he trusted to fix them. He ended up spending a couple of nights where I lived at that time. The last night he was there, my power had been shut off. We'd gone to pick up his guitars earlier that day and he played some tunes in the candlelight. I had a blast listening to him play. The next day, he left. I managed to take one picture of him, using a Polaroid camera I had. I have no idea where that picture is today, but I remember it vividly.
I did see him again, a few months later. Still a great guy, still magical with his words and guitar. About 3 months after seeing him again, I ended up behind bars for 13 months. Somewhere during that time, the pull his words had on me lessened a bit. After I got out, I tried to see him again but he had things to do and people to be with and scheduling time, even a few hours, was nearly impossible. My interest in BDSM waned, and his words no longer pulled me in. I would see him online every now and then, say hi, let him know what was going on in my life and ask what was going on in his. The distance grew.
Right now, he's in a fight against cancer. A growth near his shoulder that hadn't caused problems before started causing them now. He had it removed April 2010 and it grew back. The biopsy showed cancer. He went for radiation and it wasn't the success they'd hoped for. As of now, there's a tumor in his lung and he's in the hospital because he couldn't breathe. No news for the last few days but that's not always a bad thing.
I'm hoping he stays positive, keeps fear at a far distance, and believes he will be fine. I can't say what will happen to him. I haven't seen him in 11 years. I will continue to send positive energy his way. What I keep thinking of is the song For Good, from the musical Wicked. The very first stanza kinda describes how I think of him now. For those who don't know it, here it is.
Later that fall, I got the chance to meet him. He was coming to CA, to bring a guitar or two to a guy in Long Beach that he trusted to fix them. He ended up spending a couple of nights where I lived at that time. The last night he was there, my power had been shut off. We'd gone to pick up his guitars earlier that day and he played some tunes in the candlelight. I had a blast listening to him play. The next day, he left. I managed to take one picture of him, using a Polaroid camera I had. I have no idea where that picture is today, but I remember it vividly.
I did see him again, a few months later. Still a great guy, still magical with his words and guitar. About 3 months after seeing him again, I ended up behind bars for 13 months. Somewhere during that time, the pull his words had on me lessened a bit. After I got out, I tried to see him again but he had things to do and people to be with and scheduling time, even a few hours, was nearly impossible. My interest in BDSM waned, and his words no longer pulled me in. I would see him online every now and then, say hi, let him know what was going on in my life and ask what was going on in his. The distance grew.
Right now, he's in a fight against cancer. A growth near his shoulder that hadn't caused problems before started causing them now. He had it removed April 2010 and it grew back. The biopsy showed cancer. He went for radiation and it wasn't the success they'd hoped for. As of now, there's a tumor in his lung and he's in the hospital because he couldn't breathe. No news for the last few days but that's not always a bad thing.
I'm hoping he stays positive, keeps fear at a far distance, and believes he will be fine. I can't say what will happen to him. I haven't seen him in 11 years. I will continue to send positive energy his way. What I keep thinking of is the song For Good, from the musical Wicked. The very first stanza kinda describes how I think of him now. For those who don't know it, here it is.
I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn, and we are led to those who help us most of all, if we let them, and we help them in return.I was led to him for a reason. I'm not quite sure what it is but I'm glad he was a part of my life then and I wish him all the best now. Get well, Scott. You are needed.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
What happened to compassion and empathy?
The other night, I was in a car with a friend and we were on our way to the market. Just before we got there, we noticed a guy on the ground in the median. We slowed down, to see if we might be able to help him, and the car behind us honked their horn. No one else stopped. While at the light, getting ready to turn around and help him, we saw him get up and finish crossing the street. He was limping but seemed to be okay, so we turned into the market and watched him walk away.
I couldn't believe how everyone was just zooming past this man, like nothing was wrong, like he hadn't fallen and might've needed help. And the idiot behind us who honked their horn, like maybe if they sat there too long, they might have to see that he'd fallen down. I was angry and frustrated at the same time. All these people who drove past this man, just drove past him like he didn't exist. How can anyone see someone fall and not even stop to see if they're ok?
And yesterday in the news, Jeff Conaway died. He was 60 years old, a talented actor who had a drug problem. So many of the comments were just vile and hateful. How can anybody hide behind a computer and be so filled with hate that they can villify a man who died? He was human, like all of us, and he had problems but that didn't mean you should spew such bile.
The thing that separates us from animals, supposedly, is our reasoning ability. Yet I've seen more love, compassion, and empathy from animals than I have from humans in the last few years. We'll send hundreds of thousands of dollars to Haiti after an earthquake and yet we'll turn away a couple of gay men when their home is destroyed by a tornado. We'll clamor for assistance for the Middle East, yet we'll turn our backs on families here who have just lost everything in the floods.
My bottom line: Before you post hate-filled posts, before you drive past someone who has fallen, remember that someday, the one needing help may be you. I hope you find more than impatience and hate at that time.
I couldn't believe how everyone was just zooming past this man, like nothing was wrong, like he hadn't fallen and might've needed help. And the idiot behind us who honked their horn, like maybe if they sat there too long, they might have to see that he'd fallen down. I was angry and frustrated at the same time. All these people who drove past this man, just drove past him like he didn't exist. How can anyone see someone fall and not even stop to see if they're ok?
And yesterday in the news, Jeff Conaway died. He was 60 years old, a talented actor who had a drug problem. So many of the comments were just vile and hateful. How can anybody hide behind a computer and be so filled with hate that they can villify a man who died? He was human, like all of us, and he had problems but that didn't mean you should spew such bile.
The thing that separates us from animals, supposedly, is our reasoning ability. Yet I've seen more love, compassion, and empathy from animals than I have from humans in the last few years. We'll send hundreds of thousands of dollars to Haiti after an earthquake and yet we'll turn away a couple of gay men when their home is destroyed by a tornado. We'll clamor for assistance for the Middle East, yet we'll turn our backs on families here who have just lost everything in the floods.
My bottom line: Before you post hate-filled posts, before you drive past someone who has fallen, remember that someday, the one needing help may be you. I hope you find more than impatience and hate at that time.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Cabs and concussions
Sometimes, life decides to laugh and make you ache. Wednesday was that kinda day for me.
I was going to have lunch with D and a friend of his at a Sweet Tomatoes restaurant just up the road from where I'm staying. To get there, I decided to take a cab. Too warm outside for me to walk and I've been feeling just a bit low when it comes to breathing lately. So, I called a cab.
She finally got there and I was surprised to see a female driver. She had this really great hair color and I commented on it. Everything seemed to be ok but she wasn't sure of where the place was. So I told her that according to the map, it was only 1/2 a mile up the road. Going a bit faster than I would have gone for such a short drive, she saw the entrance just as we were passing it. She decided to try to make it and turned the wheel. That's when the fun began.
The cab was still going forward so it started to skid. I went from the passenger side of the back seat to the driver's side like I had wax on my tush. She applied the brakes, too late in my opinion, and the cab finally came to an abrupt stop, sideways, at the edge of the entrance. By this point, I came to a full stop by slamming my head against the metal that separates the front door and the back door of the cab, slamming my chest into the side of her seat, and slamming my knees into the left edge of her seat, where the hard piece is in the seatback. She started it up and pulled in, stopping in front of a side door to the restaurant. "No charge," she tells me.
I'm holding my head. You know how slamming it into anything really hurts? Well, this REALLY hurt and I was already full on into a nasty headache. I moved everything, figured I was ok, thanked her for the no-charge ride, and got out. Had an interesting meal, waited almost an hour for another cab back, and then took some Aleve for the headache once I got back to my room. All was well, I figured.
Well, not really. For the next 3 days, I had this really bad headache that nothing was touching. I felt like my balance was off, more than usual, and I was really having problems with nausea. Finally, my two rocks both told me to go to a hospital, that it sounded like a concussion. To appease them, and to make sure that the closest one didn't drag me to a hospital himself, I went.
After several hours in the ER, I came away with some interesting information. I definitely had a concussion and probably would have the headache for a bit longer. I was told to take acetaminophen for it. I'd had a head CT scan and got to see it. It showed that I definitely had some swelling in there. They wanted to keep me overnight but I said no. I learned that a concussion is a traumatic brain injury and that the swelling had probably been worse the day of the accident. Apparently, it's a lot more serious than I had ever thought.
Beyond that, my knee was swollen a bit, and my chest has a really colorful bruise on it. My weight was both a good and bad thing. It caused me to hit harder than someone smaller might have hit but it also cushioned me enough that I didn't break a rib. My blood was checked, as was my urine. I found out that I'm back to my normal readings. In other words, I'm anemic, and several items are reading lower than normal numbers. I also have a good infection going on, thanks to my white cell count being much higher than normal. I was dehydrated so they filled me up with saline. And last but not least, they're pretty sure I'm still not a diabetic.
So what's the bottom line here? A few things. If you get into a crash and you hit your head, go get yourself checked out because a concussion is no laughing matter. If you feel thirsty and you're in Arizona, it's a really good idea to make sure you drink plenty of water. And last of all, listen to your friends when they tell you to do something. Someday, it just may save your life.
I was going to have lunch with D and a friend of his at a Sweet Tomatoes restaurant just up the road from where I'm staying. To get there, I decided to take a cab. Too warm outside for me to walk and I've been feeling just a bit low when it comes to breathing lately. So, I called a cab.
She finally got there and I was surprised to see a female driver. She had this really great hair color and I commented on it. Everything seemed to be ok but she wasn't sure of where the place was. So I told her that according to the map, it was only 1/2 a mile up the road. Going a bit faster than I would have gone for such a short drive, she saw the entrance just as we were passing it. She decided to try to make it and turned the wheel. That's when the fun began.
The cab was still going forward so it started to skid. I went from the passenger side of the back seat to the driver's side like I had wax on my tush. She applied the brakes, too late in my opinion, and the cab finally came to an abrupt stop, sideways, at the edge of the entrance. By this point, I came to a full stop by slamming my head against the metal that separates the front door and the back door of the cab, slamming my chest into the side of her seat, and slamming my knees into the left edge of her seat, where the hard piece is in the seatback. She started it up and pulled in, stopping in front of a side door to the restaurant. "No charge," she tells me.
I'm holding my head. You know how slamming it into anything really hurts? Well, this REALLY hurt and I was already full on into a nasty headache. I moved everything, figured I was ok, thanked her for the no-charge ride, and got out. Had an interesting meal, waited almost an hour for another cab back, and then took some Aleve for the headache once I got back to my room. All was well, I figured.
Well, not really. For the next 3 days, I had this really bad headache that nothing was touching. I felt like my balance was off, more than usual, and I was really having problems with nausea. Finally, my two rocks both told me to go to a hospital, that it sounded like a concussion. To appease them, and to make sure that the closest one didn't drag me to a hospital himself, I went.
After several hours in the ER, I came away with some interesting information. I definitely had a concussion and probably would have the headache for a bit longer. I was told to take acetaminophen for it. I'd had a head CT scan and got to see it. It showed that I definitely had some swelling in there. They wanted to keep me overnight but I said no. I learned that a concussion is a traumatic brain injury and that the swelling had probably been worse the day of the accident. Apparently, it's a lot more serious than I had ever thought.
Beyond that, my knee was swollen a bit, and my chest has a really colorful bruise on it. My weight was both a good and bad thing. It caused me to hit harder than someone smaller might have hit but it also cushioned me enough that I didn't break a rib. My blood was checked, as was my urine. I found out that I'm back to my normal readings. In other words, I'm anemic, and several items are reading lower than normal numbers. I also have a good infection going on, thanks to my white cell count being much higher than normal. I was dehydrated so they filled me up with saline. And last but not least, they're pretty sure I'm still not a diabetic.
So what's the bottom line here? A few things. If you get into a crash and you hit your head, go get yourself checked out because a concussion is no laughing matter. If you feel thirsty and you're in Arizona, it's a really good idea to make sure you drink plenty of water. And last of all, listen to your friends when they tell you to do something. Someday, it just may save your life.
Monday, February 7, 2011
The end, for now, of a friendship?
Your arms weren't around him, his were around you. How does that feel to you? Do you enjoy your role or does it chafe a bit? It's not one I would ever have thought was yours but then, I guess I don't really know you at all. The man I know wouldn't have said one thing and done another.
How easily does it come to you, to lie to one person about second chances but to grant another one with no real thought at all? So not the man I thought. Maybe I gave you more than you actually had inside but I don't think so. I think the wanting to have someone is stronger than the hurt you suffered at their hands. You're better than that.
Please, don't call anymore. I can't do the superficial friendship with you, not with how much I feel for you. It just hurts too much, my friend.
How easily does it come to you, to lie to one person about second chances but to grant another one with no real thought at all? So not the man I thought. Maybe I gave you more than you actually had inside but I don't think so. I think the wanting to have someone is stronger than the hurt you suffered at their hands. You're better than that.
Please, don't call anymore. I can't do the superficial friendship with you, not with how much I feel for you. It just hurts too much, my friend.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Being a friend hurts sometimes
I've always pushed people away, thinking that if they got to know me, they'd hate the real me inside. If you hate someone, you don't want them around. It hurts when people leave but it hurts less when you make them leave. Thus the reason for my pushing them away, so that it wouldn't hurt as much as when they just left.
The more I think about that, the more I realize how selfish it was. Wanting to push people away? Just so you didn't hurt? Selfish to the core.
Then I met two people I couldn't push away. No matter how hard I tried, (and I sure did try hard, even today I still try at times) I couldn't push them away. I'm glad they're in my life because they make things better just being there.
But lately, one of the two feels like he needs to pull away. So, rather than being selfish and trying to keep him close, I'm going to push him away. Not by lying, as I would have done in the past, but by being honest with him. I don't want him to be in my life because he feels he needs to be. I want him in my life because he wants to be.
So when he calls today, IF he calls today, I'm going to tell him he doesn't have to call as he goes to and from work. The conversations are too forced lately and I don't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want to do. Doesn't matter if I love him. What matters is what he wants and needs. And, I think, for now that's not me.
The more I think about that, the more I realize how selfish it was. Wanting to push people away? Just so you didn't hurt? Selfish to the core.
Then I met two people I couldn't push away. No matter how hard I tried, (and I sure did try hard, even today I still try at times) I couldn't push them away. I'm glad they're in my life because they make things better just being there.
But lately, one of the two feels like he needs to pull away. So, rather than being selfish and trying to keep him close, I'm going to push him away. Not by lying, as I would have done in the past, but by being honest with him. I don't want him to be in my life because he feels he needs to be. I want him in my life because he wants to be.
So when he calls today, IF he calls today, I'm going to tell him he doesn't have to call as he goes to and from work. The conversations are too forced lately and I don't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want to do. Doesn't matter if I love him. What matters is what he wants and needs. And, I think, for now that's not me.
Friday, February 4, 2011
hurting...
My soul is leaking out in dribs and drabs.
Each word you don't say pushes out another small bit.
Funny how you can start over with one person who hurt you but you really can't with me. Not really.
Do you think I've cut the link? That I can't feel your agitation, your anxiety?
Do you think that just because there are 2600+ miles between us that I can't feel your feelings?
You want to know the dream but all it will do is make that gap between us even larger. "It's your fears; it's not the truth." But you're wrong, my friend. It would truly be the end.
And my soul would be lost forever, then.
Each word you don't say pushes out another small bit.
Funny how you can start over with one person who hurt you but you really can't with me. Not really.
Do you think I've cut the link? That I can't feel your agitation, your anxiety?
Do you think that just because there are 2600+ miles between us that I can't feel your feelings?
You want to know the dream but all it will do is make that gap between us even larger. "It's your fears; it's not the truth." But you're wrong, my friend. It would truly be the end.
And my soul would be lost forever, then.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Random Thoughts on Thanksgiving Day, 2010
So, it's 5:30 in the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day and I'm trying to be profound when all I really want to think about is having a turkey sandwich with mayonnaise and cranberry jelly. A friend of mine in the 90's introduced me to these sandwiches. They're best on soft white bread, like Wonder bread, because then the mayo kinda sinks into the bread, the cranberry jelly melds with the turkey and the turkey just absorbs everything. I've been making them with roasted chicken for the last week but tonight, I think I'm going to get to make it with turkey. It all depends on the size of the turkey slices in the dinner I've got to heat up.
I'm staying with my sister Karen, a challenge in itself, but it's better than being alone on Thanksgiving Day, like I was last year. It's chilly here, not freezing yet, but I've got this incredible heater keeping me warm most of the time during the day. It's her dog Scooter. He likes to be on top of soft things. When she reclines in her chair, he's right on top of her. During the night, he sleeps on top of her hip and the edge of the chair. But when she's awake and moving around, or out of the house, or sitting at her computer, he's decided that I'm a good replacement. And he gives off a ton of heat. Right now, he's stretched out between my lower legs on the footrest of this recliner. I don't even need a blanket with him near.
Last but not least this Thanksgiving Day: I've had one heck of a year since last Thanksgiving. I've endured a cold winter in Massachusetts. I've gone to Washington D.C. on behalf of pancreatic cancer. I've endured a day of travel that included a 4 hour delay in DC and several changes of flights from Chicago. I went to my 30 year high school class reunion and enjoyed it. I spent time in Michael's company and time with Dwayne. I got to spend some time with an acquaintance from high school that I now consider to be a good friend. And most of that happened in the months after I was supposed to be dead. I don't think there's any way for me to NOT be thankful for this past year.
For all the loved ones in my life, may your year ahead be filled with more good than bad, more laughter than tears, and more life than any one person can live. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
I'm staying with my sister Karen, a challenge in itself, but it's better than being alone on Thanksgiving Day, like I was last year. It's chilly here, not freezing yet, but I've got this incredible heater keeping me warm most of the time during the day. It's her dog Scooter. He likes to be on top of soft things. When she reclines in her chair, he's right on top of her. During the night, he sleeps on top of her hip and the edge of the chair. But when she's awake and moving around, or out of the house, or sitting at her computer, he's decided that I'm a good replacement. And he gives off a ton of heat. Right now, he's stretched out between my lower legs on the footrest of this recliner. I don't even need a blanket with him near.
Last but not least this Thanksgiving Day: I've had one heck of a year since last Thanksgiving. I've endured a cold winter in Massachusetts. I've gone to Washington D.C. on behalf of pancreatic cancer. I've endured a day of travel that included a 4 hour delay in DC and several changes of flights from Chicago. I went to my 30 year high school class reunion and enjoyed it. I spent time in Michael's company and time with Dwayne. I got to spend some time with an acquaintance from high school that I now consider to be a good friend. And most of that happened in the months after I was supposed to be dead. I don't think there's any way for me to NOT be thankful for this past year.
For all the loved ones in my life, may your year ahead be filled with more good than bad, more laughter than tears, and more life than any one person can live. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Saturday, July 3, 2010
It's been a while and I feel the need to write, to express myself again in words that few see because I don't advertise this blog. But it's ok because, in a way, it's my journal. And sometimes, journals don't need to be shared.
It's July 3 and tomorrow is another birthday for some people I know. One is once again in my life and I'm glad because I've missed her zanyness. She's older (aren't we all?) and yet, she still has so much of that zing I remember best about her. She's in a long term relationship, something I might have never seen her in but she's happy and therefore, I'm happy. I wish we were closer in miles because I need to see her from time to time, to remind me that being a nut can be fun and beneficial to health.
The other person turns 81 and I'm not sure how I really feel. A part of me hates and a part of me loves and I'm not sure which one wins out most of the time. They say that only the love survives but in this case, I'm not sure it should be that way. All I know is, he turns 81 and I'll spend part of tomorrow crying.
I just finished catching up on a blog I enjoy reading because the writer is always about the truth of her situation. It's just too bad her wife isn't as honest or worthy of that honesty. How do you feel, knowing you made a promise and then broke it just as soon as you left the one you made it to? How do you feel when your world has come crashing down and everyone believes the more famous of the two of you because you did what was right for you and now she's mocking your choice? How does anyone believe the famous one if they hear the full story? It's just sad all around.
I'm tired and hurting but I need to do some things today so I'm going to force myself to go upstairs and take a long shower, then force myself to ask to go to the grocery store. I need milk and something to drink other than water and soda. I want lemonade, I want chips, I want so much more than I have right now. I need to do something other than sit and stare at a keyboard on the laptop.
The bottom line is, I want my friend Dwayne here and it can't happen right now. Such is life.
It's July 3 and tomorrow is another birthday for some people I know. One is once again in my life and I'm glad because I've missed her zanyness. She's older (aren't we all?) and yet, she still has so much of that zing I remember best about her. She's in a long term relationship, something I might have never seen her in but she's happy and therefore, I'm happy. I wish we were closer in miles because I need to see her from time to time, to remind me that being a nut can be fun and beneficial to health.
The other person turns 81 and I'm not sure how I really feel. A part of me hates and a part of me loves and I'm not sure which one wins out most of the time. They say that only the love survives but in this case, I'm not sure it should be that way. All I know is, he turns 81 and I'll spend part of tomorrow crying.
I just finished catching up on a blog I enjoy reading because the writer is always about the truth of her situation. It's just too bad her wife isn't as honest or worthy of that honesty. How do you feel, knowing you made a promise and then broke it just as soon as you left the one you made it to? How do you feel when your world has come crashing down and everyone believes the more famous of the two of you because you did what was right for you and now she's mocking your choice? How does anyone believe the famous one if they hear the full story? It's just sad all around.
I'm tired and hurting but I need to do some things today so I'm going to force myself to go upstairs and take a long shower, then force myself to ask to go to the grocery store. I need milk and something to drink other than water and soda. I want lemonade, I want chips, I want so much more than I have right now. I need to do something other than sit and stare at a keyboard on the laptop.
The bottom line is, I want my friend Dwayne here and it can't happen right now. Such is life.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Bullying
I've been reading a lot of stories in the news lately that have my blood pressure up. It's time for JT to post her thoughts about one in particuler.
Bullying: I went through school and graduated exactly 30 years ago this June. I was the obese, smart kid with glasses. Not just fat but Obese with a capital O. I got the jokes, the stares, the having things thrown at me, all the way through school. One time on the bus ride home, a guy, who used to talk with me every single day, pulled the tip off a pen and then dropped the ink portion down my back. Needless to say, I ended up throwing out one of my favorite shirts and had to wear dark shirts so that the ink stain on my skin wouldn't show through for the next few days.
I heard all the jokes about wearing tents, when was I going to run away and join the circus, having the ground shake when I walked, and the see-food diet I must be on. When I mentioned it to a teacher once, I got told "What do you expect me to do? Grow up and grow a thicker skin." I felt the pain of auditioning for a group that I had the vocal skills to be a part of but because they did dance moves, I would never be a part of. My size made me stand out from the rest of the group and the director wanted it to be more cohesive.
I spent most of my teen years feeling isolated and not a part of everything else going on in school. But I survived. Low self-esteem and all, I survived. Phoebe Prince did not.
Phoebe Prince was a beautiful young lady from Ireland who lived and went to school here in the U.S. For months, she dealt with bullying and harassing behavior from other students. The school's procedures were used but laxly. After taking it for one final, really bad day, Ms. Prince committed suicide. Several students have been arrested and will pay nearly as big a price, because with any felony conviction comes a lifetime of lesser chances. All because they decided to be idiots.
It's no longer enough to say it's a part of life, a passage that all must undergo to become adults. It's not enough to tell the bullied to grow a thicker skin, to pay them no attention. The old rhyme may say that words will never hurt you but it's a lie. Words hurt and in some people, they hurt to the point of danger.
How many times have we read about a student bringing a gun to school to "deal with the bullies?" How many times do children have to die because tolerance is a lesson they never learned at home? How many times do we have to hear a parent say that they're child could never say or do such things, only to have that child be brought up on charges for doing exactly that? Harrassing behavior hurts and always has. Now, it kills. We can't let it continue.
Bullying: I went through school and graduated exactly 30 years ago this June. I was the obese, smart kid with glasses. Not just fat but Obese with a capital O. I got the jokes, the stares, the having things thrown at me, all the way through school. One time on the bus ride home, a guy, who used to talk with me every single day, pulled the tip off a pen and then dropped the ink portion down my back. Needless to say, I ended up throwing out one of my favorite shirts and had to wear dark shirts so that the ink stain on my skin wouldn't show through for the next few days.
I heard all the jokes about wearing tents, when was I going to run away and join the circus, having the ground shake when I walked, and the see-food diet I must be on. When I mentioned it to a teacher once, I got told "What do you expect me to do? Grow up and grow a thicker skin." I felt the pain of auditioning for a group that I had the vocal skills to be a part of but because they did dance moves, I would never be a part of. My size made me stand out from the rest of the group and the director wanted it to be more cohesive.
I spent most of my teen years feeling isolated and not a part of everything else going on in school. But I survived. Low self-esteem and all, I survived. Phoebe Prince did not.
Phoebe Prince was a beautiful young lady from Ireland who lived and went to school here in the U.S. For months, she dealt with bullying and harassing behavior from other students. The school's procedures were used but laxly. After taking it for one final, really bad day, Ms. Prince committed suicide. Several students have been arrested and will pay nearly as big a price, because with any felony conviction comes a lifetime of lesser chances. All because they decided to be idiots.
It's no longer enough to say it's a part of life, a passage that all must undergo to become adults. It's not enough to tell the bullied to grow a thicker skin, to pay them no attention. The old rhyme may say that words will never hurt you but it's a lie. Words hurt and in some people, they hurt to the point of danger.
How many times have we read about a student bringing a gun to school to "deal with the bullies?" How many times do children have to die because tolerance is a lesson they never learned at home? How many times do we have to hear a parent say that they're child could never say or do such things, only to have that child be brought up on charges for doing exactly that? Harrassing behavior hurts and always has. Now, it kills. We can't let it continue.
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