Thursday, June 24, 2010

"Shaddap and Take Your Shot. "

I really hated going to the doctor when I was young. Wanna know why? Because I didn't like shots. I still don't like shots. Also, I was pretty sick when I was growing up (asthma, chronic sinus infection, muffed up tonsils that resulted in surgery) and frequently needed a blood draw.

Being that I was such a dramatic little thing and had veins like a Spaulding ball, I would sob and freak out, and make everything worse. Finally FINALLY they would get a vein going, milk the vials, and set me free with bruises.

Know what kind of makes me mad? That there are a bunch of parents now that don't want their children to get vaccinated. There was a study that some how linked vaccines to autism. ...Okay.

I know I'm not a parent, and I know I don't have an autistic child (though I have had several play mates through out the years that had Aspberger's Syndrome, which is on the autism spectrum), but you know what? You can live through autism. You can go on to leave a full, normal, lovely life with that disorder. Especially with all the strides we're making in research and development and teaching and all that.

You might not live through whooping cough. Or measles. Yeah, I know back in the Dark Ages they were normal illnesses that everyone went through. Now they are not, and there is no reason we need to suffer. We are just baaaaarely clinging on to Herd Immunity right now. And every time someone decides not to have their child get that shot, that goes down a little bit.

I understand that some people won't do it for religious reasons. I understand some children are allergic (like, kill you kind of allergic not the itchy throat kind) to vaccinations. I don't understand that whole; "JENNY MCCARTHY SAID MY KID WOULD GET AUTISM!!!111!!!one"

But maybe I'm crazy.

A couple months back, at my Community College they had a free vaccine clinic set up in the dining room. As nasty as that sounds, it was sort of nice with neat little curtains set up. I went and I got my D-tap. Diptheria, tetanus, and pertussis, also known as whooping cough.

I'm twenty years old, I'm scared of shots, and I went on my own accord to get jabbed with a needle, holding tightly onto the hands of some of my friends. My shoulders were sore for days and days. But you know what?


Well, I did! So get your kids jabbed in the arm, okay?

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Pajama Hate-What the Hell?

I really like my pajamas. I have a bunch of soft, fuzzy bottoms, any number of huge, loose t-shirts, and even a couple silky, old fashioned nighties that are lined with flannel on the inside for those really cold winter nights.

Of course, some nights I'm sleeping in a tank top and undies. And some nights I collapse into my bed wearing dirty jeans and a t-shirt, because I was out and about too late, or I'm sick, or I'm not even at home and I don't carry a set of pajamas with me.

(Although that seems like a neat little product, doesn't it? Pajamas in a Ziploc. I could make it out of cheapie scrub material, one size fits no one, really. If I could manufacture this for five dollars, I'd sell it, buy a billion, and keep one in my purse at all times, as well as leaving a few at the places I'm likely to turn up randomly.... I digress.)

What strikes me as weird is hearing people say it's rude to wear pajamas out. What, really? Do you honestly think so? I don't understand why this is.

I wear my pajamas in public. If it's eleven thirty and I went to Meijer's because I HAD to have some toilet paper, or some medicine, or more likely because I really needed a pint of ice cream, you better believe I'm not getting out of my pajamas for that. If it's nine AM on a Sunday and I'm coming right back home to veg out on the couch with some Bam Margera DVDs, I'm not getting dressed just to go and snag the essential groceries.

I even wear my pajamas to class sometimes. Normally it's on the days when I've run a low grade fever, been exhausted and had no business being in class, but I needed to get some notes or take an exam. I wore them on the bus home too, leaning wearily against the window because I was tired. Or it's been on the days when I've had an early class and I'm taking a thirty minute exam and then I can beat it.

I've had people glare and roll their eyes. It's honestly perplexing to me. Does it really bother you to have to look at me in my pajamas for twenty minutes. They're not filthy, I've just been wearing them over night. What are you hating on? I'm coming in, grabbing my Hershey's bar and iced tea, and then I'm going home.

Why is it rude? I mean, I wouldn't wear them to say, a fancy restuarant or when I'm giving a presentation in class. But does it honestly matter if I'm wearing them any other time?

I think it's way worse when I see those girls in those crop tops with their boobs hanging out, and those short shorts that are showing me almost their ass crack. Or when I see boys with their pants hanging around their knees so I know the size, color, and brand of their boxers. (Hanes and Joe Boxer are particularly popular.) But somehow, this is more acceptable than pajamas?

What the hell?

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

And I'm Heeeeere to Save the Daaaaaaay

There are a lot of things that bother me about people as a whole. I don't like it when people chew with their mouths open. I don't like it when someone steals a chair, a pencil, a piece of paper. I don't like it when people are so close minded, they refuse to even hear another side of the argument. I don't like it when someone slams down their side of the story and then proclaims the conversation to be over before another party can even BEGIN to speak.

But what really, really, REALLY gets on my nerves is what I like to call The Fearless Leader Complex. This complex can be observed in such cartoon characters as Superman, and Leonardo the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

The Fearless Leader Complex is best described as having the feeling that no one can ever do anything better than you--ever. People suffering from (or inflicting this condition on other people) suffer from the delusion that everyone loves and adores them, the world is resting on their shoulders, and nothing would ever get done if they didn't do it.

Oh, and naturally, the people that don't love and adore them aren't angry because maybe the FLs (fearless leaders) did something that hurt their feelings, or because they did something wrong... They are mad because they are JEALOUS PEOPLE. Yes, of course! That MUST be it!

FLs have the habit of sulking, whining, and pouting when someone else does something, and often and joy picking whatever was done apart. I mean, after all, they could do it better, right?!!? They have the rather nasty habit of muscling people out of the way to get things done, and then sighing and whimpering about how they are the only ones to get it done. (They are not to be confused with Martyrs, by the way.)

FLs also don't apologize. They will even go so far as to say that yes, they know what they did was wrong, but they can't apologize. More often than not, they will spout off about the greater good, they will wax poetic about how they did what they had to do, and they didn't mean to hurt you, so you should just get over it.

What I find most fascinating, most hilarious about those inflicted with this ailment--is how insecure they really are. Deep down on the inside, they are really just scared children. They don't WANT to be Fearless Leaders. They want to curl into balls and cry. They want to press their face into your lap so that you might chase away everything that they are afraid of.

They want someone else to take care of them.

And it breaks my heart.

Monday, June 7, 2010

How Do I Feel This Good Sober?

I really dislike going to parties. I know that's one of the strangest things you can ever hear a twenty something say. Actually, let me rephrase that--

I don't like the sort of parties that people my age throw.

My parties always involve sleeping on the floor while watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force, after playing Rock Band and watching endless movies, having gorged ourselves on pizza and one another's company. My festive companions tend to wake up, dragging themselves from the room to the kitchen to sip leftover pop and munch on cold pizza.

I don't understand this whole LET'S GET WAAAAAAAAAASTED mentality that most people under the age of twenty seven seem to have. Wasted? What? Why? Why is that fun!!! You get drunk and then you either A) hit on someone early and sleep with them, typically with tragic results B) do something really stupid and get in a fight with someone, typically with tragic results C) puke, with tragic results D) pass out, with tragic results or E) get in a vehicle intoxicated, typically with tragic results, and not always tragic results that are only going to affect you.

Know what I'm seeing that's a common thread in all of this?

Tragic. Results. Tragic, tragic, TRAGIC results. And yet, once people have shaken off their hangovers, wiped the puke off their furniture, their clothes, their hair, once they've chewed their arms off to get away from that ugly person they spent last night with, or once they've woken up in someone else's bathtub---all they can think about is going out to do it again.

Wait--wait--WHAT? You were completely trashed, you have little to no memory of any of the hare brained things that you got up to last night (and not many of them are as innocent as wearing a lampshade on your head) but you want to do it AGAIN? NEXT WEEKEND?!?! And every weekend after?!?!

(I want to note here that for some of those drunk driving accident victims, there is no waking up to shake off their hang overs. For some of them, there is no waking up at all... Please, please, please if you're going to indulge in this point of excess, be responsible enough not to climb behind a wheel.)

Maybe this is because I grew up with Drunk!Dad, maybe it's because I just don't like the taste of alcohol--because no, I am not innocent. I have indulged, and while I have done dumb shit, thankfully there was no long term damage, except perhaps to my ego--but I really, really don't understand this.

But what bothers me even more is the fact that drunk people my age seem to have little to no responsibility for their own actions. They seem to believe that the sober people at the party will keep track of them, make sure they are safe, and clean up any messes that they make, simply because they are SOBER.

I don't know about anyone else, but when I go to a party, I go to have fun. I get paid when I baby sit. And that's not to say that I'm going to let someone drown in vomit, or I'm going to leave broken glass laying around. You better believe I'll clean that up so no one gets hurt...

But I don't want to have to do it in the first place. If you can't hold your liquor, don't drink! Or at least don't drink somewhere that you could get hurt (which is just about everywhere, unless your Sober!friend(s) have agreed to watch you). Like I've said, maybe it's just me who finds the way drunk people act so unattractive.

I understand I sound like a priss in this, but Jesus Christ, I just--I just hate it.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Make Me A Witness

So last night, one of my friends was having an especially difficult time, and mentioned falling out of favor with God.

I spent a good chunk of time telling him that I dont' believe we can everfall out of favor. That we're never half as alone as we think we are, and the two most important things I have ever learned about being a Christian;

1. Nothing we are given in the world is ever going to be TOO MUCH. It won't kill us. I understand (and agree) this is nothing but a cliche, but I really still think it's true.

2. All the burdens that we carry, all the things that are weighing us down... We don't have to carry them alone. We're so fortunate in that we have someone--something--however you need to think of God--to help us carry the burdens.

When my friend asked me if it hurt God or was too hard for God to help us, I quickly jumped in with the fact that no, no it was not. God's like a parent. If you can picture your parent standing at the top of a mountain while you're trudging up it, carryigna huge load, don't you think your parent would come rushing down to help you carry some? So you didn't fall?

In a way, it was really cool to be able to do t hat, because he said a lot of the things I said were pretty helpful to him. I have to confess that I'm surprised he said anything about it to me at all though. I've had people tell me I'm "too cool to be a Christian". And I will admit I'm not the first thing that even pops into my head when I think about Christians.

I dye my hair... I have piercings. I like HIM. I wear leather mini skirts. It's not something I talk about all the time. And when it does come up in conversation, I make an effort not to shove it down my friend's throats. They're not into Jesus? That's cool, I am. Let's share ideas and be surprised about how much common ground we actually have.

(That's not to say I haven't had that fun experience of people who are NOT Christian going on a rampage about how all Christian people are hypocrites, and how they shove it down EVERYONE'S throat! These are also the people that try and tell you how dumb it is to believe in God, and how wrong you are, and how you should just stop... They don't see the irony in it. I get the lulz.)

But hey, here's to hoping I made a difference in someone's life. I did the best I could, and I'm just hoping that what I said will do SOMETHING for him.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Zombies And Why I Hate Them

I'm really afraid of a lot of inane things.

Like possums. Once there was a 'possum on my porch and I refused to leave the house for two days, even through the back door. After all, who knew when it was going to come charging at me with it's sharp little rat face?

I'm afraid of talking fish, too. I cannot for the life of me watch Finding Nemo. Those toy fish they have attached to the plaques that sing? They give me chills every time I have to walk by them in the store.

But the thing that terrifies me the most? Zombies.

I am deathly afraid of zombies. As in scream induced, bedsheet soaking nightmares. I have had so many stupid nightmares where zombies have been attacking my hometown.

And the weird thing is, I'm not really afraid of getting bitten by a zombie--that's not the worst part of it for me. The worst part is when I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO HASN'T BEEN. When there's no one left to help me, when I'm standing there all alone, and I have the fight of my life--and I have to fight it alone.

For that matter, I'm really afraid of nuclear war too. I have a lot of nightmares about that. I'm not afraid of dying when a bomb falls--I'm afraid of not dying and having to try and survive in a world like that. It's the suffering that scares me.

So while there's not much I can do regarding the fear of nuclear war---I'm reading The Zombie Survival Guide.

Bring it on, you undead pricks.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Unschooling? What the Hell?

I recently heard of this thing called "unschooling".

So basically, how it works is--the kids don't go to school. I don't mean that they're homeschooled. I mean that they aren't formally educated.

"Now wait a minute!" I can hear you shouting. "Just wait a minute! A child doesn't NEED a formal education!"

And I agree with you. Really, I do. I don't think that EVERY child in the world needs to get up at six fifty, bolt down a Pop-Tart, drag themselves to the bus stop, ride to school, and sit at a desk from eight thirty to three thirty every day. I agree with you wholeheartedly that in and of itself, a formal education in that sense isn't the best idea for every child in the world.

But I also cannot believe that there are some people in the world who get up and say; "Know what? My child can learn perfectly well on their own."

The families that I have heard of that employ this method of education have no alarm clocks, had no bedtimes, typically allow their children to decide what's for dinner, and don't even make this children sit down to their workbooks to learn anything.

"They pursue what they're interested in! It works fabulously!" the mother's coo while the camera crew pans the house. The kids are bouncing off the walls, sitting up past midnight, eating cookies and fruit punch, and lolling on the floor babbling to themselves.

There are a good amount of them who can read, write, and do some simple math. But all I can think is; "What if they want more? How in the world are they going to support themselves?"

Maybe it's because I'm American, or maybe it's because I grew up dirt ass broke, but I don't understand how the vast majority of the population will be able to find employment that will, you know, make sure they can eat more than a packet of Ramen a day with a glass of tap water.

Yum yum.

And you know, I can see this working for older children. I went to school (which was a nontraditional school in and of itself) with some children who just did not do well in that sort of environment. They did better off on their own, studying at their own pace and reading what they wanted to....

But even they were homeschooled.

I mean, school doesn't just teach you how to count, how to read, or what year Chris Columbus sailed. School also teaches you how to get along with other kids, listen to instructions, sit still for more than twenty five seconds at a time, how to follow a schedule.

And these are tools that are needed in adult life! Does anyone else remember that one really awkward kid in school who was constantly interrupting? Do you remember how much you hated that kid? For the most part, I don't see unschooled kids being too much better. I mean, you can give me the whole "Weeeeeell, plaaaaaaygroooooups," line all you want. But when you get down to it, I really do think children need to learn how to function amongst their peers on their own.

Not that I like the minimal supervision that goes on in most schools, either. Go, go budget cuts. -.-