The Norwegian, Swedish Pavilion.
A reader here once commented that it was my honesty that kept her coming back to the Snark. Today, I’m being painfully honest. 🙂
I did plan to share the trials and tribulations of a writer’s life, but lately I haven’t felt much like a writer, so I haven’t been writing my usual strange observations, etc. I like to keep my blog as upbeat as possible, so when I’m feeling like I have been, I’ve stayed away rather than bring it down.
So, ever feel like your mind is stuck in a quagmire of “things to do” while the biggest part of yourself stands in wait for you to get back to what “you need” to be doing?
Think I’ve spent most of my life like this.
I admitted to a rotten mood last week and I’m having a little trouble pulling myself clear. I shared a Vienna Teng song here The Write Snark: Dreaming Through the Noise where she sang about always being the tower. I suppose I related to that song because I often feel like that’s me. It used to be that I always gave comfort and hardly ever had it offered in return. I didn’t ask for it though. I have this weird quark about not asking for help—even if it’s just emotional support.
I have such good friends, tho. One called out of the blue, picked up on my feelings and took me to lunch. Another called and said she had a feeling I was sad. I’m meeting her along with a couple of other “feel good” friends tomorrow night. Neither of these two expected anything from me—they only offered comfort.
Thanks—you know who you are.
My sad mood comes from several things. A long term, personally difficult situation is currently being resolved. I’ve been afraid the resolution was going to be a more permanent, harsh one, but it’s looking up.
I have good friends dealing with illnesses and the worry can be heavy.
My kids have so many activities happening, there isn’t much mental down time, so my writing has suffered. I realized with a recent story rejection that I don’t have anything circulating and that’s not like me. So, I’m behind and need to put together a list and catch up.
But lately, I’ve found this general air of negativity in the world—in the way people treat each other. You may not agree with what I have to say, but I feel the need to say it today. Since this is a writer’s blog, like I said, I try to keep it about writing, but as writers, we’re affected by the world around us. Our perceptions make us who we are.
I quit watching the news because I can’t really handle all the heartbreaking things going on in this world. And it bothers me that instead of people seeing the results of bigotry and self-righteousness, these things only seem to be making people even more self-righteous.
Just recently, I was sitting in a restaurant having lunch alone when I heard these two women talking in the next booth. It was the usual stuff you hear around here about the “Godlessness” of the world and how they feel taking away prayer in schools part of the problem… and then some horrible stuff about “if those Arab people” believed in the “right” religion, war wouldn’t be happening. My mouth fell open. I’m sure I don’t have to explain to the readers here why.
Then, I watched them be so very, very rude to the nice waiter who was apparently “beneath” them. As far as I could tell, this stemmed from him being a little too effeminate for them.
After making him feel about a foot tall, they bowed their heads to pray before eating.
I couldn’t eat anymore.
He had a sweet smile and the last time he passed my table, the ugly, gray tinge discoloring that smile twisted my stomach. The hesitant self-doubt clouding his eyes made me leave the restaurant and cry for him. I left him four times the tip but what good was that? Those women had stabbed their forks into his heart.
I’ve reached a point in my life where I have little patience for this kind of thing, yet I’m constantly amazed by people who carry themselves so far above others. If they had an ounce of the kind of intelligence needed for an open mind or better yet, compassion, wouldn’t they see that their religious choices and their personal morals are just that—theirs. I will repeat something my daughter said after a particularly rough run in with my family members.
I WILL NOT repeat the horrible filth that spilled from their mouths while they stood in their “church” clothes, but I’ll never forget watching my then fourteen-year-old daughter burst into tears in our kitchen when we got home. She looked at me and asked, “Mom, how come some people think they have a right to decide who is worthy of heaven.”
Have I said lately how much I love my kids? (g)
As for those ladies and their belief that the lack of prayer in school is the problem, I’ll share my feelings. A friend recently asked why I’m so opposed to it. I asked her a simple question. “Which prayer would you pick?”
Stumped her a minute.
There was a time in this country when there was prayer in the school. Some folks didn’t believe it was being done right. They kicked up a fuss and it changed. Then another group kicked up a fuss and so on. Even people in the same religion can’t always agree on how to pray! There’s a reason our country’s forefathers changed the law.
Not everyone follows it either.
When I was in the sixth grade, my parents decided to try commune living. Ah, that’s a long story for another day, but in a few words… doesn’t work. (g) However, I ended up in this little school in the Ozark Mountains. Every morning my teacher would have us bow our heads while she went through this long and kind of scary prayer. There were two kids who weren’t supposed to stay for it, but she didn’t always make them leave. Even at that age, I could see she thought her scary prayer would sway them.
These two kids practiced a different religion and their parents, having heard about the prayer, didn’t want their kids in there for it. Mine wouldn’t have either if I’d bothered to tell them about it, but I was scared. You see, during the rest of the day, the kids piled up on those two. Called them names, told them they were going to hell. I remember one of them curling up on the playground in a ball, sobbing her heart out.
I was too young and too screwed up over the strange family move and the even more strange school system there to really do something– not that there was much I could have done. But, I already didn’t fit in and didn’t think I could handle the finger pointing and the constant physical fights. I caved. I didn’t join in the name calling, but I did nothing to stop it.
I ended up being friends with those kids later but it pretty much came from similar treatment. I went through a period of petite mal seizures and was constantly in trouble for “day dreaming.” That’s the time I learned that cutting holes in a wooden paddle makes it fall faster. Nice school, eh?
So now, I feel strongly about the separation of church and state. I’m all for the moments of silence—lets the kids pray in their own private ways—but don’t pick one kind. Even if to you it seems generic, I can guarantee there is a child of a religion in that school who won’t find it generic.
Oops, this went into places I hadn’t planned to go. Guess I’m feeling thoughtful this morning. I get a lot of flack for my “liberal” views around here but for me, they come from experience. I’ve lived all over this country and witnessed so many different walks of life. I’ve met people from so many different religions and went on to study the different ones myself. I love that this world is a big, diverse place.
I just wish more people did. 🙂