Sunday, November 28, 2010
And For the Odd but Related Juxtapositions Trifecta:
Seriously, that Fabi was right. This IS me. Vastly different cup sizes and all ;).
Believing
I don't know if everyone gets to this point in their lives, but for me, there are times when I have a hard time believing. Not that I don't believe, or that I find my faith unbelievable, but that believing can make life hard.
Believing in God's plan and that we are eternal individuals who exist before birth, on earth, and then in Heaven, means I can't believe whatever I want to about where my son is now. I can't think he'll come back to me in some other body, or that he is now a bird in my backyard.
Believing in an eternal atonement that can cleanse me from my sins means that I have to repent and turn my life around and not be a bum when sometimes I want to. Really badly.
Believing that there is a Heaven above where my son waits for me means that there is joy to be had in a family that is whole and together, but I have to wait for it. Maybe a really long time. Maybe not too long, but it feels like a long time, the duration of which I cannot control. And that's very hard.
Believing in the Comfort of the Holy Ghost means that I can be happy and comforted. I have to ask. And sometimes I don't want to ask. Because that feeling you get the first moment you see your child is one you want to keep with you, even when it is the tearing of your heart. But God did not make me for constant sorrow. And sometimes that is hard.
And believing in an eternal family is hard. Because it means I have to build a worthy family on Earth to have a whole one in Heaven. Because I have many days I wonder how I could ever be worthy of that blessing. Because I forget that Heavenly Father once lost a son, too, and that sacrifice is mine to call upon for cleanness and comfort and closeness to Him.
But I do believe all of those things. And I believe them enough to make my life have purpose and a plan. Maybe a vague one, but a plan in the basic sense anyway. I believe them even when they hurt, and sometimes enough to let the hurt pass.
Believing in God's plan and that we are eternal individuals who exist before birth, on earth, and then in Heaven, means I can't believe whatever I want to about where my son is now. I can't think he'll come back to me in some other body, or that he is now a bird in my backyard.
Believing in an eternal atonement that can cleanse me from my sins means that I have to repent and turn my life around and not be a bum when sometimes I want to. Really badly.
Believing that there is a Heaven above where my son waits for me means that there is joy to be had in a family that is whole and together, but I have to wait for it. Maybe a really long time. Maybe not too long, but it feels like a long time, the duration of which I cannot control. And that's very hard.
Believing in the Comfort of the Holy Ghost means that I can be happy and comforted. I have to ask. And sometimes I don't want to ask. Because that feeling you get the first moment you see your child is one you want to keep with you, even when it is the tearing of your heart. But God did not make me for constant sorrow. And sometimes that is hard.
And believing in an eternal family is hard. Because it means I have to build a worthy family on Earth to have a whole one in Heaven. Because I have many days I wonder how I could ever be worthy of that blessing. Because I forget that Heavenly Father once lost a son, too, and that sacrifice is mine to call upon for cleanness and comfort and closeness to Him.
But I do believe all of those things. And I believe them enough to make my life have purpose and a plan. Maybe a vague one, but a plan in the basic sense anyway. I believe them even when they hurt, and sometimes enough to let the hurt pass.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Debbie Downer
So I just got this comment on my whiny blog a few posts ago:
"You are a Debbie Downer. Your cynical observations aren't even insightful. I can't read anymore."
LOL!
So I'm taking this opportunity to sing "It's my blog and I can cry if I want to!" I mean really, what do you guys expect from a pretty severely depressed mama who finds herself a little unready for her challenges in life? My son died! So yeah, sometimes I'm going to cry about life sucking.
Plus, Debbie Downer is hilarious. So yeah, I'm not here to be insightful or smart or optimistic. I am writing this blog to be ME, and right now I'm a short-sighted cynic with nasty mood swings.
But this is the problem, too. I am still getting through (and not getting through) a lot of crap. I suck at coping and can't afford therapy. So I blog. And I'm sorry this blog has become less than what it was. So have I. And my friends are supportive and everything, but people just don't want to be with depressed people. So when you go through a loss like this, you lose friends, too. And when you need someone to talk to the most, there's nobody there. There's nobody who still wants to hear your grief.
As much as you all want me to stop being sad, I want it too! I don't want to be depressed and depressing. But life is still too much some days, and of all of the things that haven't been fair, the thing that pisses me off the most is that I can't turn to my own blog to complain without being called a downer.
This is why depressed people have fewer and fewer friends and worse and worse depression. If you want to serve your fellow man, sometimes you need to spend time with people who aren't easy to be around. It'll probably help them be easier to be around in the future. And not kill themselves in the meantime. One of the natural cures for depression is having friends. So BE one. Not to me if you don't want to, but to your friends who struggle. It's not easy, but it saves lives.
Because the last thing someone who can't handle everything needs (or at least the last thing this mourning mama needs) is a slap in the face. And to you, Fabi, F off.
"You are a Debbie Downer. Your cynical observations aren't even insightful. I can't read anymore."
LOL!
So I'm taking this opportunity to sing "It's my blog and I can cry if I want to!" I mean really, what do you guys expect from a pretty severely depressed mama who finds herself a little unready for her challenges in life? My son died! So yeah, sometimes I'm going to cry about life sucking.
Plus, Debbie Downer is hilarious. So yeah, I'm not here to be insightful or smart or optimistic. I am writing this blog to be ME, and right now I'm a short-sighted cynic with nasty mood swings.
But this is the problem, too. I am still getting through (and not getting through) a lot of crap. I suck at coping and can't afford therapy. So I blog. And I'm sorry this blog has become less than what it was. So have I. And my friends are supportive and everything, but people just don't want to be with depressed people. So when you go through a loss like this, you lose friends, too. And when you need someone to talk to the most, there's nobody there. There's nobody who still wants to hear your grief.
As much as you all want me to stop being sad, I want it too! I don't want to be depressed and depressing. But life is still too much some days, and of all of the things that haven't been fair, the thing that pisses me off the most is that I can't turn to my own blog to complain without being called a downer.
This is why depressed people have fewer and fewer friends and worse and worse depression. If you want to serve your fellow man, sometimes you need to spend time with people who aren't easy to be around. It'll probably help them be easier to be around in the future. And not kill themselves in the meantime. One of the natural cures for depression is having friends. So BE one. Not to me if you don't want to, but to your friends who struggle. It's not easy, but it saves lives.
Because the last thing someone who can't handle everything needs (or at least the last thing this mourning mama needs) is a slap in the face. And to you, Fabi, F off.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Women Have Been Doing It for Millenia
Do you ever hear women saying, "Oh, women were having babies long before we knew XYZ about baby care, and they were fine!" or "Women used to deliver naturally before hospitals, and their babies turned out okay!"
Well you know what? They didn't. They had insanely high death rates. So be whatever kind of parent you want, but if your logic is that historically babies survived without their vaccines and without a hospital to be born in, it's seriously flawed. We have modern medicine for a reason. Partake of it wisely, but don't give it up because you're afraid of something terrible happening. Most likely, the terrible things will happen without it, and more often than with.
So if you're pregnant, and you decide that a glass of wine can't hurt because plenty of women drank during their pregnancies before we knew about fetal alcohol syndrome and their kids are fine, or you don't really have to be careful what you eat because it's too paranoid to go and look up what is and isn't okay for your baby, well, all those condom ads are for you.
Well you know what? They didn't. They had insanely high death rates. So be whatever kind of parent you want, but if your logic is that historically babies survived without their vaccines and without a hospital to be born in, it's seriously flawed. We have modern medicine for a reason. Partake of it wisely, but don't give it up because you're afraid of something terrible happening. Most likely, the terrible things will happen without it, and more often than with.
So if you're pregnant, and you decide that a glass of wine can't hurt because plenty of women drank during their pregnancies before we knew about fetal alcohol syndrome and their kids are fine, or you don't really have to be careful what you eat because it's too paranoid to go and look up what is and isn't okay for your baby, well, all those condom ads are for you.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Cheaters
So a friend from BYU classes recently posted a couple of links about cheating in higher education. You can find them here and here (thanks, Nathan).
Now, this is a sensitive topic, right? Cheating is bad! We all know it. But who is at fault? And who are the victims?
You can blame the grading- and degree-oriented university system. Or the students. Or the students' parents. Or the people (like the writer of the first article) who facilitate cheating in all of its sneaky incarnations. Frankly, they're all at fault. Well, I'm less inclined to blame the university system. I loved my college experience and found what most people do: you get out of it what you put in.
And really, I'm okay with other people getting degrees they didn't really earn. I don't care if someone I'm competing with for a job is secretly a total moron. The employer will realize it at some point, pay for their hiring mistake, and ta-dah, one more job opening for me. It evens out. And I honestly don't mind if some jerk cheats his way to a master's and gets to wear the hood and I didn't. What I pay for with work, some people pay for with money.
It's a life choice, like being a stay-at-home mom vs. daycare. You pay for daycare, and you miss out on a lot of things. I'm not saying it's cheating at motherhood or anything, I'm just saying that paying someone else to do it will never be the same as doing it yourself.
But there are losers in this cycle:
Universities lose credibility in the world when they unknowingly graduate incompetents. Students applying to prestigious programs, scholarships, etc. lose when a cheater with a better record takes a spot that might have been theirs. Society loses by rewarding the unethical. Oh, and if these people reproduce, their offspring lose.
Oh right, and the patients of doctors and nurses who cheated through their training—their patients lose, and sometimes it's everything.
So who can stop it?
It starts with parents teaching kids the importance of honesty. Students, of course, can stop cheating. But there will always be dishonorable people. Honor codes and honor systems help, but again, there will always be some amount of scumbaggery no matter what. So we come to the system, which (IMHO) in no way creates the cheaters or the cheating.
Technology has made a lot of things easier for Universities. Thanks to scantrons and other auto-grading technology, testing centers, plus computer evaluation and communications, cheating is easier to commit, not just practically, but guilt-wise, too. Cheating to a computer screen or bubble sheet has got to be way easier than cheating to a face. So when it really counts, why not take the time to interview your students? Take five minutes and see if they can talk the talk. And for Pete's sake, don't make your students jump through so many hoops they feel like they have to cheat just to finish the game. I am talking to YOU, BYU language programs.
But really, that's expecting a little much out of the university system to cure all of our ills and talk face to face with every student. Tuition would skyrocket if that amount of time and effort had to go into every education.
So we can put some pressure on parents to teach honor, students to stop being a-holes, and universities to be face-to-face with more of their students (come on, couldn't the educational system use more of that?), but I opine that the single most massive impact comes from the facilitators. Guy-who-found-the-test-key-and-is-selling-it and egotistical-Ghost-essay-writer-man are spreading the plague. These guys make it possible for money to turn into good grades. They facilitate cheating for those who just wouldn't bother if it were harder. Just like if you make MJ legal, more people will smoke it, if you make cheating easy, more people will do it.
The problem is that the people in charge of regulating these people are themselves, and they are already chief majors in the scumbag hierarchy. We have no control over these guys, because they pretty much have no souls. You can't teach them, guilt them, commit them, or litigate them into quitting their douchebag ways. Right?
So what do we do? Do you care if people cheat? I had more to say about it than would fit in a facebook comment box, so if you do, link me to your blog on the topic. I want to know what you think, especially my friends in academia.
<selfrighteousness>For the record, I never cheated during my academic career. *takes a bow*</selfrighteousness>
Now, this is a sensitive topic, right? Cheating is bad! We all know it. But who is at fault? And who are the victims?
You can blame the grading- and degree-oriented university system. Or the students. Or the students' parents. Or the people (like the writer of the first article) who facilitate cheating in all of its sneaky incarnations. Frankly, they're all at fault. Well, I'm less inclined to blame the university system. I loved my college experience and found what most people do: you get out of it what you put in.
And really, I'm okay with other people getting degrees they didn't really earn. I don't care if someone I'm competing with for a job is secretly a total moron. The employer will realize it at some point, pay for their hiring mistake, and ta-dah, one more job opening for me. It evens out. And I honestly don't mind if some jerk cheats his way to a master's and gets to wear the hood and I didn't. What I pay for with work, some people pay for with money.
It's a life choice, like being a stay-at-home mom vs. daycare. You pay for daycare, and you miss out on a lot of things. I'm not saying it's cheating at motherhood or anything, I'm just saying that paying someone else to do it will never be the same as doing it yourself.
But there are losers in this cycle:
Universities lose credibility in the world when they unknowingly graduate incompetents. Students applying to prestigious programs, scholarships, etc. lose when a cheater with a better record takes a spot that might have been theirs. Society loses by rewarding the unethical. Oh, and if these people reproduce, their offspring lose.
Oh right, and the patients of doctors and nurses who cheated through their training—their patients lose, and sometimes it's everything.
So who can stop it?
It starts with parents teaching kids the importance of honesty. Students, of course, can stop cheating. But there will always be dishonorable people. Honor codes and honor systems help, but again, there will always be some amount of scumbaggery no matter what. So we come to the system, which (IMHO) in no way creates the cheaters or the cheating.
Technology has made a lot of things easier for Universities. Thanks to scantrons and other auto-grading technology, testing centers, plus computer evaluation and communications, cheating is easier to commit, not just practically, but guilt-wise, too. Cheating to a computer screen or bubble sheet has got to be way easier than cheating to a face. So when it really counts, why not take the time to interview your students? Take five minutes and see if they can talk the talk. And for Pete's sake, don't make your students jump through so many hoops they feel like they have to cheat just to finish the game. I am talking to YOU, BYU language programs.
But really, that's expecting a little much out of the university system to cure all of our ills and talk face to face with every student. Tuition would skyrocket if that amount of time and effort had to go into every education.
So we can put some pressure on parents to teach honor, students to stop being a-holes, and universities to be face-to-face with more of their students (come on, couldn't the educational system use more of that?), but I opine that the single most massive impact comes from the facilitators. Guy-who-found-the-test-key-and-is-selling-it and egotistical-Ghost-essay-writer-man are spreading the plague. These guys make it possible for money to turn into good grades. They facilitate cheating for those who just wouldn't bother if it were harder. Just like if you make MJ legal, more people will smoke it, if you make cheating easy, more people will do it.
The problem is that the people in charge of regulating these people are themselves, and they are already chief majors in the scumbag hierarchy. We have no control over these guys, because they pretty much have no souls. You can't teach them, guilt them, commit them, or litigate them into quitting their douchebag ways. Right?
So what do we do? Do you care if people cheat? I had more to say about it than would fit in a facebook comment box, so if you do, link me to your blog on the topic. I want to know what you think, especially my friends in academia.
<selfrighteousness>For the record, I never cheated during my academic career. *takes a bow*</selfrighteousness>
Friday, November 12, 2010
Unintended Consequences
I feel like the title of every post I write, or want to but don't write, could be titled "Things That Suck." I'm going to blame the hormones.
Because seriously, I wouldn't normally complain about everything. But lately, I just feel like it. So here goes:
My clothes don't fit right.
I am tired of nursing and will not feel better about it until I get myself some nice nursing bras and clothes and settle in for the long haul.
It's so flipping cold in here but I don't want to spend money on heating OR wear fuzzy socks that make my feet sweaty.
My tummy hurts all the time and I have two choices to fix it: take meds and be medicated, or eat and get REALLY fat.
I am tired of doctors and doctors bills and remembering to pay them when sometimes it's online, sometimes you have to call, and most of the time they'd rather you sent it in the mail and I never have stamps.
I am extra tired of relief society activities because it seems like you ALWAYS have to pay for them, and the money deadline is like two weeks or more in advance, and I never remember the money on the right day, or I'm home sick, or something, so when the time comes I can't go because I didn't give someone a check or cash two weeks ago, as if those were things I should be carrying around. I'm not effing 50, okay?
There is drool everywhere. I want to cuddle my baby, but he wants to slime me. It makes things uncomfortable.
My house is a disaster, but I'm too tired to clean it and baby won't be left to play independently for more than 30 seconds at a time.
My mom seems to be the only person on earth who can make my baby take a nap.
Parks & Recreation isn't premiering until mid-season, so I have to wait SO LONG to see the next season of a show I finally started to like. On a side note, The Office sucks more than I had ever imagined it would.
There is an ICKY DEAD BUG on my desk. I don't dare touch it, so I'm stuck looking at it.
Our laptop is broken so my computer use is limited to when I can sit myself in what must be the coldest corner of the house in a super uncomfortable chair.
I decided to eat healthier the last time I went shopping and now I regret it because every time I want to eat something all I have is fruit and nuts, and all I want is junk that is easy and not messy, like granola bars or anything with high fructose corn syrup.
Also, eating healthy is like the most expensive thing ever. I could pretty much either (a) eat healthy this year or (b) fill out my new fat-body wardrobe, (c) take a vacation, or (d) buy everyone nice Christmas presents. Considering how much eating healthy sucks, I will take b, c, or d. And the eight chins that come with them.
. . .
I think that's all I have in me for now. Besides a budding headache.
Because seriously, I wouldn't normally complain about everything. But lately, I just feel like it. So here goes:
My clothes don't fit right.
I am tired of nursing and will not feel better about it until I get myself some nice nursing bras and clothes and settle in for the long haul.
It's so flipping cold in here but I don't want to spend money on heating OR wear fuzzy socks that make my feet sweaty.
My tummy hurts all the time and I have two choices to fix it: take meds and be medicated, or eat and get REALLY fat.
I am tired of doctors and doctors bills and remembering to pay them when sometimes it's online, sometimes you have to call, and most of the time they'd rather you sent it in the mail and I never have stamps.
I am extra tired of relief society activities because it seems like you ALWAYS have to pay for them, and the money deadline is like two weeks or more in advance, and I never remember the money on the right day, or I'm home sick, or something, so when the time comes I can't go because I didn't give someone a check or cash two weeks ago, as if those were things I should be carrying around. I'm not effing 50, okay?
There is drool everywhere. I want to cuddle my baby, but he wants to slime me. It makes things uncomfortable.
My house is a disaster, but I'm too tired to clean it and baby won't be left to play independently for more than 30 seconds at a time.
My mom seems to be the only person on earth who can make my baby take a nap.
Parks & Recreation isn't premiering until mid-season, so I have to wait SO LONG to see the next season of a show I finally started to like. On a side note, The Office sucks more than I had ever imagined it would.
There is an ICKY DEAD BUG on my desk. I don't dare touch it, so I'm stuck looking at it.
Our laptop is broken so my computer use is limited to when I can sit myself in what must be the coldest corner of the house in a super uncomfortable chair.
I decided to eat healthier the last time I went shopping and now I regret it because every time I want to eat something all I have is fruit and nuts, and all I want is junk that is easy and not messy, like granola bars or anything with high fructose corn syrup.
Also, eating healthy is like the most expensive thing ever. I could pretty much either (a) eat healthy this year or (b) fill out my new fat-body wardrobe, (c) take a vacation, or (d) buy everyone nice Christmas presents. Considering how much eating healthy sucks, I will take b, c, or d. And the eight chins that come with them.
. . .
I think that's all I have in me for now. Besides a budding headache.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
You Suck at Friendship
We're all busy. Sometimes we forget to get back to one another. And it's terrible.
But we were friends.
And I tried to keep in touch with you. I sent emails. I even visited your family when I was back in our home town. They remembered who I was.
And after the third "hey, still alive?" email, I expected something. It would be rude to go further. Even that guy I went on a few dates with before moving on and later wanted to reconnect with emailed me back after only two emails to tell me he was married. It was awkward, but at least he responded.
But you? No. Nothing. It's like I don't exist. We're friends on facebook, but again, it's like you accepted me and have been hiding ever since. I've tried. And I've given up. Because the one thing that has become clear to me is that we can't be friends. Not because you're not nice and wonderful and all that. Not because we're both busy with life.
Because you suck at friendship. That is all.
BTW, if you're reading this, I'm SURE it's not you, so no guilt. Just complaining.
But we were friends.
And I tried to keep in touch with you. I sent emails. I even visited your family when I was back in our home town. They remembered who I was.
And after the third "hey, still alive?" email, I expected something. It would be rude to go further. Even that guy I went on a few dates with before moving on and later wanted to reconnect with emailed me back after only two emails to tell me he was married. It was awkward, but at least he responded.
But you? No. Nothing. It's like I don't exist. We're friends on facebook, but again, it's like you accepted me and have been hiding ever since. I've tried. And I've given up. Because the one thing that has become clear to me is that we can't be friends. Not because you're not nice and wonderful and all that. Not because we're both busy with life.
Because you suck at friendship. That is all.
BTW, if you're reading this, I'm SURE it's not you, so no guilt. Just complaining.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Grumpgrumpgrump
The mascara in the most recent Clinique Bonus gift comes off way to easily when I hormone-cry. Also, the sunscreen smells too sunscreeny. What I really want out of life is to have free things be awesome all the time. And to not get sun damage. Ever.
Tim is telling me this blog post is over, and I'm thinking he's right. After I have three more grumblecakes and a whinesicle.
Tim is telling me this blog post is over, and I'm thinking he's right. After I have three more grumblecakes and a whinesicle.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
I Wish I Had Thrown Pudding in Her Face
Life is full of regrets. Mine is anyway. Like regretting not saying in clearer words, "Take out the trash, girl, he's worthless," when a friend asked me what her S.O. had been like when I'd dated him, or if she had somehow turned him into a monster. I regret punching Clé in the stomach in high school. It was not a very nice thing to do.
I wish I had never been engaged to Glenn, and I wish I had succeeded in breaking up with him before the number of attempts reached five. I regret believing things I found out later were lies, and I wish I had eaten fewer saturated fats in my early twenties.
But more than anything, I wish I had thrown pudding in her face. There was pudding nearby, there would have been no permanent harm, and she totally deserved it. Sometimes what passes for self control is just a lame excuse not to do something you'll always remember with pride.
So if there is a nasty witch in your life that you have an excuse never* to see again, please, for my sake, throw some pudding in her face. You'll regret not doing it.
*ZOMG not if they're going to die or something!
I wish I had never been engaged to Glenn, and I wish I had succeeded in breaking up with him before the number of attempts reached five. I regret believing things I found out later were lies, and I wish I had eaten fewer saturated fats in my early twenties.
But more than anything, I wish I had thrown pudding in her face. There was pudding nearby, there would have been no permanent harm, and she totally deserved it. Sometimes what passes for self control is just a lame excuse not to do something you'll always remember with pride.
So if there is a nasty witch in your life that you have an excuse never* to see again, please, for my sake, throw some pudding in her face. You'll regret not doing it.
*ZOMG not if they're going to die or something!
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