Friday, May 22, 2015
I had a friend with a daughter that was born with a very rare syndrome. She was very charming, cute, friendly and, of course, naïve. He worried so what would become of her after his death. Her death preceded his, so he was always able to protect her, as was her brother.
I am sickened by this Josh Duggar hullabaloo. Not by what Josh did. I grew up on the west side of Chicago and I well remember what games 8 and 9 year olds played. No details, folks, but yesterday I did not fall off the turnip truck.
What sickens me are the comments. People are getting their heads lopped off in Syria, and all these people can talk about is who "diddled" (that word is used over and over) who. These are people who slept dorm style. Nineteen kids. Girls at one end of the upstairs, boys at the other. Not even separate cabins like at summer camp, where fooling around went on like crazy. I was on a Catholic religious retreat and we all climbed out the window every night.
The commentors wax on about what else someone might have done, or who may have done something to who. It honestly sounds like they are getting "aroused" by it. And they definitely are playing one-up-manship.
I am disgusted that there is pin point focus on this. According to what I have read, everyone in the world was supposed to be a virgin in thought, word, and action until an appointed official spoke certain words. And according to those same people, to a man/woman, they were.
I am not praising hypocrisy or deceit. I do know what little kids can come up with in their curiosity. And , according to someone close to me it was the little girl that taught the game. On the block where I lived for many years, it was also a girl that instigated it. And, believe me, every little boy then tried to get others to play. One boy, a few years older than I, even said, "You don't have to be afraid of me."
Examine your conscience. Make your own moral peace within your self, and stop feeding this titillating crap to the masses.
Store bottled water.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
I am privileged. I have never found myself in a rapeable situation. But, more importantly, I have never allowed myself to be in that kind of situation. And let me tell you, I have been in some doozies. Like stopping random people on the south side of the City of Chicago, near 24th and Rockwell actually, asking them how to shift gears on a manual volkswagen cuz my boyfriend is passed out drunk.
Here is the thing. A certain well-known blogger and author did a column on rape being used unnecessarily as a plot device. This is stupid. Rape is not a plot device. If it is in the story it is to authenticate the historical period. It is not a trope. It is a reality. And to avoid talking about it is disingenuous. So maybe it wasn't used as a plot device. Maybe it was a somewhat strained attempt to introduce a reality into the story. Or, we could have people saying, "Gee, that was a swell story. It is nice that people didn't rape or even know what it was in those times."
And how profound is this? "Truth in fiction is about authenticity." What the fuck does that mean? Since we are trying to redefine everything else in our culture, at least semantically, are we going to redefine "fiction"or "truth" and/or "authenticity". I mean, I have seriously wasted my whole long life if, all along, I have been looking for truth and authenticity in my fiction reading. Fuck you, Raggedy Ann.
Comments closed, Chuck? You're not the boss of my comments.
This just happened in the last few hours in a rough area of a city that will not be named. Tell me, honestly, from your gut and heart, without any politically correct bull shit, do you have to ask the race of these people? The situation is, of this moment, unresolved, and several similar incidents occur regularly, many times each week. Who was in danger? Who was at fault? If you are not in the trenches, don't comment on the war.
All times are approximate.
Patient was brought to ICU room 119 at 2000 after code blue on floor. Patient coded at 2016. Pulse returned, and family members were allowed to bedside two at a time. Patient coded again at 2050. While staff were running code, patient family members were congregating at the doorway of the room, yelling at staff to "Do something!". Security was called for crowd control purposes. Patient expired at approximately 2105. ER Dr. went to family waiting room, where approximately 30 family members were waiting at request of security. When ER doctor informed the crowd that family member had passed away, all of the family members began screaming and charging through the waiting room doors. Security officer was attempting to restrain them all from charging into the ICU, but there were too many of them pushing him and screaming. They pushed past him, scratching his arms and drawing blood in the process. Code grey was called at 2108. One more security officer arrived to room 119 in response to code grey. One security officer was standing in the doorway of the room, attempting to prevent them all from running into the room at the same time. Several staff members attempted to explain that the family needed to remain calm and they would all be allowed to see the patient in an orderly fashion. At least five family members were shoving the security officer in the room's doorway, and screaming that they were going to "Beat the shit outta y'all". I attempted to call the nursing supervisor (who had NOT been present at either of the code blues or the code grey) and after four failed attempts to reach the supervisor's portable phone, I called the operator and asked her to page the supervisor overhead at approx 2114. She offered to call the supervisor's portable phone, and I told her I had already done that several times, to no avail. She then said that she would page her. After three minutes of not hearing an overhead page, I called the operator back and asked her to please overhead page the supervisor, in the event that this was an emergency situation. At that time, she overhead paged the supervisor. During this time, every single one of the patient's family members was standing in the hallway of the unit, wailing and screaming multiple obscenities. All the other patients on the unit were disturbed. Other patient family members were afraid to walk down the hallway to exit the unit. Several staff members, including myself, were taken away from providing care for their respective patients. When the nursing supervisor arrived, I told her that this group of family members was overpowering security and the situation was continually escalating, instead of calming down. She informed me she was going to call the CNO, because "her husband is a cop, and maybe he can do something under the radar". Then she left the immediate area.
At this time, I decided the only option to ensure the safety of the staff (nurses and security) was to call (redacted) Police. I called 911 and explained the situation to them and requested their presence.
Friday, May 15, 2015
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
First disclaimer: if you haven't noticed yet, I am a bitter old crone.
I don't blog much anymore. But I have gone through dry spells before. Lately, something just keeps me from that keyboard. And as for my fiction, I have notebooks of three or four works in progress. Just can't get it onto the machine. Think I know why. Think I am warming up. I am just not caught up in the excitement of the process anymore. I show spikes in readership that have no relationship to my activity. I get royalties for sales that don't show up in any analytics. How am I supposed to know what works? There is no explanation for having 183 blog hits one day and 52 the next when I haven't even posted of late. I know. Something showed up in someone's comments, or on some google entry. But I am tired of floundering around like a beached fish searching for the right water hole.
I read a lot about trad pub versus e pub. These are two schools of mind that have nothing in common. One is playing football, the other is ice skating, but they think they are doing the same thing cuz they both are "sportsing".
I always wanted to put my two cents in, but lately 2 out of 3 comments I make, I erase instead of submitting. How my public must be suffering!
Today, on an agent's blog, something struck me. She is really nice and helpful and seems kind. (Some are such sharks.) The commentors were having a healthy back and forth about making changes in your work to please some agent or editor or publisher. Can't do it. If you don't like my style, oh, well. I am very fond of it. So I wrote this comment and erased it without submitting. I could only think of a not too decorous kind of an analogy. Here, my page, my editing, I can let it roll.
A pimp tells his stable they need to wear shorter skirts. Business is slow. The newest member of the family takes this to heart and complies. Unbeknownst to her, the guy in the little black BMW is cruising, looking for his favorite fetish - a cute little chick in a kilt and argyles.
No point in trying to please "the customer". Maybe there is a general trend or style that appeals to more, but if that's not your style, you have to wait for the customer who likes your style. So go out there and get 'em with your argyle sox and plaid skirt. At least you will find someone who appreciates you.
Photo attribution: Acid Cow.com