Tuesday, August 11, 2009

I Read the News Today...

Browsing through the news briefs on AOL this morning, I came across something that…well, part of me wishes I’d never seen it. It broke my heart and left me in tears.
What I found was the story of 17-month-old Baby P, whose full first name was Peter. On August 3, 2007, paramedics were called to a home in Haringey, north London, where they found Peter’s lifeless body in a blood-splattered crib, and the details that have come to light since then regarding his death and the events leading up to it are not only sickening, but a terrifying look at what we, as society at large, allow to happen to children.
A ban had been placed over news coverage of the case, barring specific information from being publicly released, and that ban expired today. Today, people around the world got a first look at three of the monsters responsible for this child’s tragic circumstances – his mother, Tracy Connelly; her boyfriend, Steven Barker; and the boyfriend’s brother, Jason Owen.
Little Peter suffered for at least eight months prior to his death, and in that time endured injuries so horrific that I simply can’t talk about them. At the time of his death, Peter had more than 50 injuries to his small body. This helpless child was beaten and tortured at the hands of those who should have been caring for him, nurturing him and loving him.
Peter was born on March 1, 2006. In December of that year, social workers noticed bruises on Peter’s face and chest and called police, who arrested Connelly and placed Peter in the care of a family friend. He was returned to his mother in January 2007. Over the next few months, Peter was seen in hospitals on two separate occasions, which led to Connelly’s second arrest in March of that year. Again, Peter was returned to her.
Three months later, in June, another social worker found marks on Peter’s body and called police again. Medical exams concluded that the bruises were the result of child abuse, and Peter was again placed with family friends. By July, Peter was back with his mother, because it was determined that the “threshold for initiating Care Proceedings…was not met.” On August 1, Peter was seen a doctor at St. Ann’s Hospital in London, where a pediatrician noticed injuries but apparently failed to report their extent. Connelly was informed on August 2 that she would not be prosecuted for any wrongdoing; Peter was found dead the following day. A post-mortem exam showed that almost all of the injuries to Peter’s body predated his August 1 visit to the hospital.
According to press releases, Connelly claims she was unaware of what was happening in her home – she was too busy surfing the internet to be bothered with the screams that came from her son’s room; screams that Barker dismissed as attempts by his brother and him to “toughen him up.” In addition to the physical abuse Barker and Owen inflicted on Peter, they also used their dog to terrify him, at the very least. Reports on Peter’s injuries state that some of the wounds on his head appeared to be dog bites.
Connelly, Barker and Owen were sentenced on May 22, 2009, by Judge Steven Kramer, who spoke directly to Connelly, saying, “You are a manipulative and self-centered person, with a calculating side as well as a temper. I reject the suggestion that you were blind to what was happening in that house or that you were naïve…your conduct over the months prevented Peter from being seen by social services. You actively deceived the authorities.”
In addition to the atrocities against Peter, Barker and Connelly were also charged and tried for their involvement in the rape of a 2-year-old girl, and the sentencing for that trial and Peter’s took place together.
The outcome?
Steven Barker was given a life sentence with a minimum of 10 years for the rape charges; only 12 years for his role in Peter’s death. Tracy Connelly was given an “indefinite” sentence (“indefinite” meaning she’ll be held until she’s been “deemed no longer to be a risk to the public and in particular to small children”) with a minimum of five years. Jason Owen was also given an “indefinite” sentence. His minimum time served is three years.
How can society allow this to happen? How can we overlook something like this? A poor defenseless child was tortured for months on end, with no salvation until his death. People are asking “If there is a God, why did He let this happen?” God didn’t simply “let this happen.” God gave everyone involved a choice: protect this baby, save this child – or I will. And when the people in his life failed him, God ended his suffering and took him home. What pains me the most is that it had to come to that, Peter’s suffering ended by God’s hand, before it would be ended by the people in charge of his welfare.
In the House of The Lord, Peter will never suffer again, but how many more children on Earth will? How many children have to suffer because of society’s ignorance and indifference before everyone finally sees what precious gifts those children are?
Maybe I sound like I want to change the world…and I do. I’ve seen what neglect and mistreatment can do, even to a child that lives through the pain. I do want to change the world. But I can’t do it alone.
All I ask is this: if you read this, anyone – be kind to children, whether they’re your own or someone else’s. Smile at them, say something nice. If you have children, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, etc. – hug them; give them the love they desperately need. And if you see a child mistreated and uncared-for – don’t just sit there and watch it happen. Say something, do something. And, if the laws of man ignore your voice, rest assured – God won’t ignore it. God will hear, if no one else will.
Rest in peace, baby Peter. You’re safe now.
Photobucket

Sunday, July 26, 2009

School Spirit - Go Team! I think...

As a former cheerleader/athlete, I'd like to think I know a little bit about school spirit. As a cheerleader, you can't spend three to four nights a week for several months over the course of five years screaming until your lungs collapse, working the crowd and the players into respective frenzies, and NOT be affected. At the same time, you can't push yourself to your own physical limits every night for several hours at a time and not feel a little pride in what you're doing.
In case any of you didn't know, I went to Paw Paw High School, and our mascot was the Pirate. I was, and am, proud to say I'm a Pirate! We might not always have won, but our teams played honest and clean, and the vast majority of players really gave it their all. By the time I got into high school sports, we didn't have an actual "mascot", meaning we didn't have anyone who wore a suit and stormed through pep rallies and games, keeping the crowd cheering. The last person I can think of who wore the Pirate costume was Brian Phillips, and that was long before my time...at least ten years or more, back when Ricky was a freshman. But, even without the presence of a physical embodiment of our mascot, I'd like to think we had some infectious school spirit, and a distinct sense of pride and connection. We all felt the glory of a win, or the sting of a loss.
Looking back on it, it was extremely easy to cheer my teams toward victory - Paw Paw Pirates just has a pretty nice ring to it, doesn't it? The syllabic composition and alliteration make it very vocal-friendly - easy to say (and scream) and memorable, and it made cheer-writing pretty simple. The pirate is also an easily-recognized mascot and symbol, so decals and decorations were made that much easier for us, as well.
Other mascots are easy to remember and cheer for, as well. The Berkeley Springs Indians, the Union Tigers, the Greenbrier Bobcats, the Burkburnett Bulldogs, the WVU Mountaineers (more WV pride coming out in me, I realize...), the Moorefield Yellow Jackets, the Bishop Walsh Spartans...the list goes on.
And that got me to thinking...some schools just aren't quite as fortunate. Take, for instance, the Musselman Applemen. We played against them for a number of years. Just thinking on the word "applemen" what comes to mind? An apple with legs? Their mascot actually resembled a pioneer. Then there was the Flintstone Aggies. I wondered for years what an Aggie was, until I finally saw their centercourt design - it's a large bull. Then, of course, there are some mascots that you just have to wonder, "Why?" Like the Hampshire High School Trojans. I know, I know, it's a Trojan warrior, an elite fighter...but it's also a prophylactic. You can imagine the hell those poor kids have gone through, with people flinging condoms at them during games... *cough* Keyser... *cough* A friend of mine went to school in Weatherford, TX, where the mascot is the Kangaroo. It was my understanding that a mascot was supposed to be an entity that meant something to the school, or something that strikes a sense of foreboding in the opponent. How many kangaroos do you see wandering through TX, and how scary are they (kangaroo boxing excluded...)? Let's not leave out the Syracuse Orangemen, a mascot that has yet to be identified as anything other than a Tribble with a hat and appendages...
So, with these things in mind, I went on a mission - I went hunting for the best of the worst, the worst of the best, and the most outrageous mascots I could find, limiting my search mainly to high school teams. There are several hundred more than I've mentioned here, but it would have taken me an eternity to write something for each and every one, so I chose my favorites and I've divided my findings into four categories. With images as evidence (when available), you'll see why when you read each entry.
So, without any further ado - Go Team! I think...


FAIL

Sidney Lanier High School, Montgomery, AL

Mascot: Poets

Who could refrain…?





Yuma High School, Yuma, AZ

Mascot: Criminals

THAT’S promising…wonder if they’re smooth?




Conway High School, Conway, AR

Mascot: Wampus Cats

A six-legged mountain cat? Slightly...“catty-wampus”? – BJ

Other schools:

Clark Fork High School, Clark Fork, ID

Itasca High School, Itasca, TX




Ribet Academny, Los Angeles, CA

Mascot: Fighting Frogs

Perhaps they “hop” grades? Or, maybe they get into a grade and “croak”… - BJ





Yuba City High School, Yuba City, CA

Mascot: Honkers

Apparently, it’s a goose…cause “Honker” sounds SO much more threatening than “Geese”…

Other schools:

Lakeview High School, Lakeview, OR



Fort Collins High Schol, Fort Collins, CO

Mascot: Lambkins

An ass-whoopin’ never looked so cuddly!








Avon Old Farms School, Avon, CT

Mascot: Winged Beavers

…yeah, I got nothin’ for this one…




Marvelwood School, Kent, CT

Mascot: Screamin’ Pterodactyls

Team spirit of Mesozoic proportions! - BJ


Cairo High School, Cairo GA (pronounced KAY-row)

Mascot: Syrupmakers

No…no, they didn’t… Oh, but they did…


Bowling Green High School, Bowling Green, KY

Mascot: Purples

If Grimmace and the Michelin Man ever had a baby…






Lawrence High School, Lawrence, KS

Mascot: Chesty Lions

Has the plushy/furry movement really come this far?










Estherville/Lincoln/Central High School, Estherville, IA

Mascot: Midgets

How, exactly, do they get away with this?

Other schools:

Putnam Co. High School, Unionville, MO

Dickinson High School, Dickinson, ND

McLaughlin High School, McLaughlin, SD

Hurley High School, Hurley, WI


Frankfort High School, Frankfort, IN

Mascot: Hot Dogs

Personally, I can think of few food items more frightening than a hot dog…and am I the only one with the sudden urge to sing “Let’s All Go to the Lobby?”


Delphi Community High School, Delphi, IN

Mascot: Oracles

This made my brain bleed a little…


Speedway High School, Speedway, IN

Mascot: Sparkplugs

Someone wasn’t quite firing on all cylinders, if you ask me. I suppose it’s better than naming their mascot the Drag Racers. Can you even imagine…?!





Poca High School, Poca, WV

Mascot: Dots

Al Bundy would be proud!


Archbishop Chapelle School, Metairie, LA

Mascot: Chipmunks

Of all the wildlife in the bayou, there is none more fearsome than the chipmunk, apparently…


Glen Burnie High School, Glen Burnie, MD

Mascot: Gophers

How is it that I was unaware of this one?! I feel several degrees of shame right now!

Other schools:

Grand Prairie High School, Grand Prairie, TX


Kingsford High School, Breitung Township, MI

Mascot: Flivvers

Um…what??




Watersmeet High School, Watersmeet Township, MI

Mascot: Nimrods

And, here I was hoping it would be a reference to Green Day.








Vassar High School, Vassar, MI

Mascot: Vulcans

Another potential pop culture reference squandered.





Shoals High School, Shoals, IN

Mascot: Jug Rox

I’m honestly at a loss for words, here…


Hoopeston High School, Hoopeston, IL

Mascot: Cornjerkers

Oh, for crap’s sake, why not just call ‘em the chicken chokers…


Cobden High School, Cobden, IL

Mascot: Appleknockers

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse…combining two silly boob references into one ridiculous mascot.






Centralia High School, Centralia, IL

Mascot: Orphans/Orphan Annies

It’s a hard-knock life for them…



Fisher High School, Fisher, IL

Mascot: Bunnies

This is actually is strangely terrifying.

Other schools:

Benson High School, Omaha, NE






Freeport High School, Freeport, IL

Mascot: Pretzels

Gives a whole new meaning to the term “snack attack”, doesn’t it? And this time, I give in – “Let’s all go the LOB-by! Let’s all go to the LOB-by…”


Lake Forest High School, Lake Forest, IL

Mascot: Caxy

And a “caxy” would be…?


Houghton High School, Houghton, MI

Mascot: Gremlins

Copyright infringement, much?

Other schools:

Karns City High School, Karns City, PA


Blooming Prairie High School, Blooming Prairie, MN

Mascot: Awesome Blossoms

This is what happens when you give steroids to plantlife...


Maryville High School, Maryville, MO

Mascot: Spoofhound

His name is Spoofy…go figure…


Bishop McGuinness Catholic High School, Kernersville, NC

Mascot: Villains

I think I’ll hold my tongue on this one…


Hamlin High School, Hamlin, TX

Mascot: Pied Pipers

Do they all get drunk before a game? It is Texas, after all…


The Webb School, Bell Buckle, TN

Mascot: Feet

Says something for the genetic decline in the area, I think.



WIN


Sleepy Hollow High School, Tarrytown, NY

Mascot: Headless Horsemen

Now how’s THAT for wicked?!


Brewer High School, Brewer, ME

Mascot: Witches (No image available)

It should come as no surprise that their colors are black and orange


The Doane Stuart School, Albany, NY

Mascot: Thunderchicken

It takes some SERIOUS testicular fortitude to have a mascot like that!


Hatboro-Horsham High School, Horsham, PA

Mascot: Mad Hatters

Wonder if THEY know why a raven is like a writing desk?


Marion High School, Marion, SC

Mascot: Swamp Foxes

Now THAT’S patriotism! Rock on!


REALLY…?

Butte High School, Arco, ID

Mascot: Pirates

…why do I get the impression I’ve seen this on Beavis and Butthead?


Anaconda High School, Anaconda, MT

Mascot: Copperheads

Makes you wonder if they’ve ever read a National Geographic, doesn’t it?


Roosevelt High School, Minneapolis, MN

Mascot: Teddies

Patriotism at its finest, right there!


The Bryn Mawr School, Baltimore, MD

Mascot: Mawrtian

…wonder if his name is Mawrvin…


Venice High School, Venice, CA

Mascot: Gondoliers

…this one’s just a little painful…


New Braunfels High School, New Braunfels, TX

Mascot: Unicorns

Aneurysm in progress…


Effingham High School, Effingham, IL

Mascot: Flaming Hearts

I just have to wonder why and how they came by this…






OMG

This one was too good to be true, but it is, I swear! Look it up, I dare you! This outranks every mascot in the previous three categories!


University of Northern Colorado, Greeley, CO

Mascot: Fightin’ Whities

I, literally, almost peed myself...and you know you did, too!

Friday, July 10, 2009

The Inevitable Return of Critter Corbin

Hey, blogland! Miss me?! Sure, ya did...
So, I was doing GREAT with my blogs, updating fairly regularly, keeping everybody posted on everything. UNTIL...
"...Suddenly, there came a tapping
As of someone gently rapping,
Rapping at my chamber door..."
'Twas some visitor, indeed, tapping at my chamber door...but it wasn't a raven, which is fortunate, because I have no bust of Pallas on which it could have perched. The jerk at the door called himself Life. He said he hated to interfere with my general plans, but it was part of his job description ("You know how that goes, am I right?" to quote him directly...). So, in he marched (uninvited, I might add...) and hunkered down to stay a spell.
Before you all wonder, he didn't bring any ill tidings. Instead, he just kinda hung around my neck and bugged the crap out of me for about a month. I was just generally dragged down, but by the end of it, I shook the "ick" feeling by heading out on a little vacation...to WV!
BJ finally got to meet my family (or, at least, what few of them we could see in the couple days we were there), and they got to meet the man who stole my little heart away. For those of you not in attendance for the Great Kati & BJ Visit, my mom can attest to the fact that I'm alive, well-cared for and VERY loved! The trip was nice, it was exactly what we both needed to clear our heads out and get some of the rest we desperately needed.
Now, on to the matter of that subject line...
Let me preface this by telling you all what happened very early Sunday morning.
I work the graveyard shift at my factory, from 8 pm until about 4:30 am. On my days off, I try to keep my sleep schedule the same so I don't mess myself up and get worn out at work. So, at 4 that morning, I was wide awake on the couch, reading a book with the TV on and turned down (BJ was asleep in the bedroom).
I was half-watching The Time Machine, half-reading my book, when I heard a noise outside that sounded like someone was killing something. It was high-pitched and squealy...I thought for a minute someone was beating a child. So, I ran out onto the front porch only to find a small, black puppy belly-crawling up my front lawn and yelping so loud it broke my heart.
I went down into the yard and he instantly came crawling over to me and climbed into my arms. He was wet, filthy, he reeked to high Heaven and he was so scared he was shaking. Once I picked him up, the shaking stopped, and he settled into a soft panting, instead of the yelping. I held him up to check him out, to see if any of the wetness on him was blood, and he appeared to be fine...the wetness was just water from the leftover rain on the grass.
So, I wandered down the steps to the street, wondering where the little fella came from - he couldn't have been thrown from a car, because he would have been wounded. He could have been dropped off at one end of the street or the other, but I hadn't heard any cars go by for hours, and our section of the street isn't that long, so that wasn't likely, either. Then I noticed some movement to my right and turned to see a familiar dog staring at me from low on the ground.
At the plant, we have stray dogs that roam the property, and a few coworkers and I leave our lunch scraps for them. A few times, this particular dog who was eyeballing me had eaten right from my hand in the parking lot. The dogs aren't too afraid of people, obviously, so they were probably pets at one point that were thrown out and became feral strays. It clicked in my head then that I was holding this dog's puppy. I had two options right then - I could put the puppy down, walk away and forget I'd ever seen the dogs...or, I could do what I did. I brought the puppy into the house and woke BJ, who wasn't too thrilled with the idea of being woken up at about 4:20 am. I told him about finding the puppy in the yard, and his first mumbled remark was an obscenity, followed by, "We can't keep it, baby...take it to the shelter in the morning."
That prickled me a bit, and got my tear ducts working. I couldn't do that, but it was too early in the morning to argue. So, instead, I very gently said, "He's just a baby, he's filthy, and I'm pretty sure he just peed all over me (and he had...). Can I at least give him a bath?" This was the beginning of the end for BJ...
BJ agreed, and told me to find something to feed him. So, into the tub went the tiny, fluff-matted thing in my arms. He is, quite possibly, the most rapidly-drying dog I've ever bathed. Once he was clean and largely dry, I carried him back into the living room to further inspect him. He has all of his teeth and they're in very good condition, and judging from the size of them he can't be more than 6 months old.
We don't have dogs, because BJ doesn't care for them, but we do have two cats, so we have cat food, if nothing else, and I got a small handful of food, barely enough to fit in my palm, and wet it with warm water to soften it. When I brought it back to him, I set it down in front of him to let him scent it, and he didn't seem too thrilled by it, probably because he's never smelled anything like it or remotely fresh, for that matter. I put a little in my fingers and held it out to him and he took it from my hand and chewed a few pieces, then took a bit more and simply swallowed - major sign that he was being raised feral. He has teeth and can chew, but doesn't fully understand how, so he just gulps food down while he can.
I reported my findings and his status to BJ, who was still not pleased about being half-awake so early. When I told him about the mother being outside when I found him, he said, "Well, then give the baby back to his momma, she can take better care of him than we can." That's what undid me. I've seen those dogs at work...I couldn't send the baby back out there to live like that, scrounging for a half-eaten cheeseburger or week-old chicken tender and at the risk of being run over on the highway or being shot by someone. I told him how I felt and begged him, "Please don't make me put him back outside...I can't do it, it'll break my heart..." and he caved a little. He didn't tell me I could keep him, but he also didn't try to talk me into putting him back outside again. He told me again that I should take him to the shelter, and I shied away from that idea.
Ever been to an animal shelter? Some people have, most people haven't. I can tell you now, most of them aren't the cleanest or the best kept. Granted, there are a few out there that are very nice and very clean, and actually try to take care of the animals that come in. Others, however...not so much.
Take the Robertson County Animal Shelter here in Springfield, for example. That's where we got our youngest cat, Skitz. From the outside, it looks like any other animal shelter you've seen, and it's about the same on the inside - kennels lining one big room, and a separate room for cats. Overall, it's not a BAD place, per se, but what first struck me as wrong about that animal shelter is that they had upwards of 4 full-grown dogs in a single kennel space barely as big as a typical doghouse. Overpopulation is one thing, but that kind of living condition is cruel, if you ask me. The cats seem to fare a little better...most of them have their own cages, unless they were found or brought in together, in which case they go into a cage together. The softest thing the cats have to lay on in those metal cages is their litter box, which is where Skitz was laying when we first saw him. It broke my heart, and BJ's, to see the cats like that, and it hurt me even worse to see the poor dogs crammed into those tiny kennels. I can't willingly put an animal in that situation, it's not in my nature. I managed to upset myself further in regards to the shelter, but I'll get there in a minute...
So, I gave BJ time to wake up and by the time he came out for his coffee, the puppy was laying contentedly on the living room floor in a dry towel. That's when I started to inch in on the subject of what to do about the puppy. I knew what I wanted to do, of course, and BJ knew what I wanted to do, but neither of us said anything about it at first. Once he had his coffee ready, I brought the puppy in and showed him to BJ to let him get a good look at him. He agreed that the puppy looks pretty healthy, and I could tell by the look on his face and the strain in his voice that he was having an internal battle...part of him wanted to order me to put the dog back outside or take it to the shelter, and the rest of him knew that if he said it, I'd break down sobbing and, thus, break his heart. I took my seat near his in the office and put the puppy on the floor next to my chair where he proceeded to fall asleep, snuffling and snuggling in the towel he was still wrapped in.
I didn't say any more about the little guy, and eventually, BJ turned to me in his chair and said "Three days...if no one comes looking for it, give me a number for the cost - vet visit, shots, the whole nine yards, cause we're not keeping it unless it has its shots." He also said that, if it came to this, housebreaking would be up to me, because he doesn't know how to housebreak a dog, and there will be no dogs sleeping in the bed or on the furniture. I agreed, of course, and starting attempting to research it on the net. This is where I upset myself...
In searching for some answers, I turned up an article, regarding the county animal shelter, from one of the local news stations. It was just a newsbrief about the shelter's opening a little over a year ago. What disturbed me were the last two lines of the article - "Dogs are kept at the animal shelter for about five days. Those that do not find homes through adoption are euthanized." I had no idea they were a kill shelter, and I said as much to BJ who very calmly told me that, yes, he knew they euthanized unclaimed animals. And he wanted me to take the puppy there?? Oh, no, I think not! I had reservations about taking the puppy there before I found out the whole story, and once I knew that, I told him that I absolutely would NOT take the puppy there, under any circumstances.
Webster's dictionary defines shelter as "a dwelling place or home considered as a refuge; the protection or refuge afforded by such a thing." That place may as well turn animals into Soilent Green, for all the "shelter" they offer... "Here ya go, little fella, here's a disgusting steel cage to live in for 5 days, if we let you live that long before we pump your little body full of heart-stopping chemicals..enjoy!" Animal "shelter" my ass...
Anyway, when BJ left for work that morning, he left with one request - "Just...don't name it...if you name it, you'll get attached and if you get attached, you'll cry if we have to give it up." I agreed, so for the remainder of that day, he was simply "Little Fella." I took him outside to let him get some fresh air, and he peed outside. I learned, then, that he will NOT pee in the house. If he wanted to go outside, he would whine a little and try to get to the door on his unsteady little puppy stubs. We went out a few more times that morning before I had to go to sleep, and I made sure to make him a make-shift bed from a clothes basket and a towel before I laid down.
By the time I woke up and was fully functional, BJ was home from work with surprising news for me - "I think his name is Scooter."
Hold up...didn't he tell ME not to name the puppy so I wouldn't get attached?? And yet, in he walks with the startling revelation that the puppy might just have a name?? Yeah...he TOTALLY hated the dog... *scoff scoff scoff*
After that, it was pretty set in stone that I could keep it, especially since BJ said "We'll find a way to make it work...he's young, he can learn, we can adjust the budget to include dog food and care...we'll make it work."
And so, it is with great pleasure that I officially announce the addition of Wado Lowry to the family! After much debate on a name for the little guy, he decided for us that his name was Wado, which is an Okinawan Japanese word meaning "peace and harmony". BJ tossed the suggestion out and the puppy went NUTS with squeals and yips and attempts at running toward BJ. So, it was decided for us that his name is Wado. It suits him, because he's a very mellow pup so far, and he's a very good boy. He's suffering some mild seperation anxiety, being away from his mother, and he'll whine incessantly if he can't see one of us, but we're breaking him of that by ignoring him when he whines and giving him plenty of love when he doesn't make a big fuss.
The boys, Swisher and Skitz, don't know what to make of him just yet. Swish was MAD AS HELL when we first brought him in...refused to come near him or us, wouldn't purr, wouldn't snuggle with us, nothing. Skitzy's taken a little better to him. He's still convinced that Wado's tail must be a chewtoy, but he's too apprehensive of him to attempt to play with him just yet. They've both fairly-well adjusted to him, and they'll at least scent him and come to us now.
So, onward and upward my family grows!
I'll post pictures of all the kids (Addison, Swisher, Skitz and Wado) soon, and I PROMISE I'll write more often! Now - to bed with me!

Photobucket

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Diary of a DreadHead

Well, world...no more pink hair. It was fun while it lasted, but it faded out relatively quickly (and I admit I was more than a little disappointed). In the end, it looked a little like fire, which was kinda cool for a while...then it faded some more, and I looked like a popsicle stain... So, what else was there to do but dye my hair again?
Again, it was quite an adventure. I started with two shades of blue, hoping they would give my hair just enough of a color cast to turn it purple and green (yes, that's the look I was going for, on purpose...) but, alas, it just wasn't in the cards. The brand of dye that I bought wasn't strong enough to permeate the high-quality pink I already had on my hair. So, I kicked it up a notch. I went back to my Manic Panic colors and picked out one called After Midnight Blue. They're not lying!
At first glance, immediately after the dying, my hair looked black. I came into the living room to show BJ and he said "Baby, it turned your hair black!" Then I stepped into the sunlight and his eyes popped a little and he corrected - "OH! It's blue! WOW!" My hair was such a deep shade of blue that it was little more than black with a blue light-cast on it! I rather liked the new look, so I decided to stick with this color for a while.
Now, about the title of this post...ya know how I've said before that occasionally I take fits and just want to do something totally different? Well, this is another one of those times. I decided, this time, to do something that (despite what my mother believes and what she might tell you...) I've always wanted to do. Yup...dreadlocks!
After extensive research on procedures, care and effects, I made the decision and sat down with my supplies: a mirror, little black rubber bands and a fine toothed comb. I'll spare you the details of what I had to do to my hair to make this happen (it will probably make your scalp cry), but in the end, I came away with 34 dreads all over my head, with my bangs split in two at one side and left untouched. I think it came out rather nice, and I've been caring for them appropriately.
Now, before you get all huffled and puffled, let me clear up a few misconceptions that many people have regarding dreads...
#1 : Dreads are NOT dirty. People with dirty dreads are foolish, misinformed people who have no idea how to take care of their hair or their bodies. Anyone who says you absolutely CANNOT wash dreads is a filthy liar (complete pun intended). Shampooing dreads is actually a vital part of the growing process - cleaning away common residues helps the hair stay strong and bind together.
#2 : (And this goes hand-in-hand with the previous tidbit) Dreads are NOT smelly. Again, people with smelly dreads haven't the first clue how to care for them. The smell that comes from dirty dreads is actually mildew, because those people do not properly dry their hair after bathing (assuming they bathe at all...). It's extremely important to make sure the dreads are clean and dry at all times, because wet or damp hair is not only prone to mildew, but it's also much weaker than dry hair.
#3 : Dreads are NOT always a political or religious statement. Yes, they are an icon associated with the Rastafari movement, but that doesn't mean that anyone with dreads is necessarily a Rastafarian.
So, with those things in mind, you can rest assured that I haven't switched religious or political views and that I am not (I repeat NOT) dirty. When I told BJ I wanted dreads, his first concern was that I would smell horrible. I promised him that I would never let my head smell bad, and I've kept my promise. I'd also asked him if he thought I'd look good with them, and he was a bit hesitant at first. But now that he sees I can and will take care of them, he's starting to like them. He even helps me take care of the ones I can't see in the mirror. I have to tame, lock and twist my hair at least every other day to make sure the dreads grow the right way (because there are right and wrong ways, believe it or not), and as long as I ask nicely, BJ will sit behind me and twist my dreads with a little hair spray to lock them in place and prevent massive fraying.
Also, I am very well aware of how I may have to take these out when I decide to, depending on how long I've left them in - I may have to cut them out and have my hair reshaped at a salon. I broke the news to BJ and his heart dropped a little, but he agreed, "As long as you're okay with it, I'm okay with it. I know you don't like your hair too short, but if it's what you want, I won't stop you. Just know that you're beautiful to me, no matter what."
I have to say, the dreads have been a pretty big crowd pleaser, if you don't include Mom, Momma Sue and BJ's sister, Stasia. While they aren't too fond of them, most everyone else really likes them and is interested in how I did it and why. Then, of course, there's the fact that they're blue... That earned me a few strange looks at work, but no more than when it was pink
So, there you are...a tiny blue dreadhead walks among you now! Eventually, I'll put up some pictures of the transformation, but for now, that's all I got!

Photobucket

Monday, April 20, 2009

Broken

No matter how tiny, a heart can still break. And mine did this afternoon. I had come home from work at about 5 am after starting my new shift, spent some time winding down, and went to sleep around 6 am. I was awakened by the phone around 11:30. When I rolled over to check the caller ID, I saw it was Momma Sue (BJ's mom) so I answered the phone. She apologized for waking me, because she knew that I should have been asleep then, and then asked if I could get a hold of BJ. At that moment, I knew something was very wrong. When she asked if I was sitting down, I began bracing for the worst. That's when she broke the news.
Our friend, Chris Baker, committed suicide early this morning in his house, just down the street from us. His grandmother found him not long before Momma Sue called me. When the call came into the police dispatch, the dispatcher on duty recognized the address, because she lives just across the street from us, and knew that she had to call Momma Sue.
I started to break down the moment she told me. I looked out the window while I was on the phone with her, and saw the fire truck blocking off access to the street, and saw the ambulance parked outside of his house, which he just recently finished remodeling and moving into. Trying to keep my head about me, I gave Momma Sue a number to reach BJ, and got off the phone so she could contact his bosses and have him sent home to be with the family. Just before she called me back, I heard a sound I've not heard in a very long time, and never has it hurt so much to hear it...I didn't even need to look to know exactly what it was - I heard the back doors of the ambulance slam. That's when I lost all control and sobbed until my body hurt. When Momma Sue called back, she told me BJ was on his way home, and asked if I wanted to come over. I couldn't be alone then, so I went to be with everyone else. Momma Sue called everyone who needed to know, and for the rest of the day, we all gathered at her house to just be together.
Over the course of the day, more information came to light, the details of which are very painful to talk about, so I'll forgo them. Without even knowing them, all that needs to be said is that I lost someone very close to me. Baker was a wonderful friend to BJ and me, he did so much to help us get settled in the new house, and we were always between each other's houses, just talking or hanging out. More than anything, he adored BJ's daughter, Addison. She is simply wild about him, and although we were supposed to have her this week, we decided it's for the best that she stays with her mother for the time being. Baker is the first person she asks for when she comes to visit...she loves him so much, and I don't know how to explain to a little girl that someone she sees as her best friend is gone forever. I don't think I can do it without crying, and neither can BJ, and we don't want to upset Addison.
Baker suffered from depression for years, and after a string of awful events in his life...well, I suppose he thought it was just too much. Maybe he thought it was all his fault. I don't know. That's the hardest part. Not knowing why. He didn't leave a note, so no one will ever know what was going on inside him then. No one will know if anything might have helped, or made him realize that so many people love him, and I think that's the saddest thing of all for me - that he just didn't know how many people care, or that he didn't think anyone really did care.
What Baker did was rash and selfish, I won't argue that. In fact, I'm angry at it. But, at the same time, I can't stop hurting because someone who has been so wonderful to me, BJ, Addison and the rest of the family is gone. It breaks my heart to think that I won't see his number on the caller ID, or hear him come through the door anymore. He won't be over for dinner, he won't be at Momma Sue's, we won't hear his truck on the street and we won't ever get to tell him "You matter to us, and we love you."
So, with a heavy, aching heart, I'm taking myself to bed. I won't sleep much, I know that. But, there's nothing else to do now but be here for his family and ours and remember that Chris Baker was a good man with a big heart who would have given the world to make his friends happy.

Photobucket