I was recently accused of maliciously and deliberately setting out to inflict emotional pain on someone already in crisis. It was further insinuated that this is something I do routinely for the sole purpose of entertaining myself, as if I derive some sort of twisted pleasure from watching other people suffer.
I take particular issue with this accusation because I most certainly am not the kind of person who would even wish harm on someone, much less set out to cause that harm.
I don’t even wish suffering on those who have hurt me most in my life. At times I even hurt for them, knowing that they will never experience, much less enjoy, some of life’s simplest pleasures, or understand the deeper meaning of “tea for two”.
Because these accusations run so completely contrary to who I am as a person, I cannot bring myself to let them go unchallenged. Writing also gives it a sort of physical form, making it easier to process and providing a place to “put” it all. Perhaps other writers can relate.
So, what the hell happened anyway? Continue reading
With the election drawing nearer, I’ve been paying more attention to the television than I usually do. I actually switched it on this is morning, which I rarely do. Between stories about Sarah Palin’s wardrobe, John McCain running a nasty campaign, Joe Biden being unprofessional and Barack Obama being a Marxist — all of which is beginning to wear just a bit, if I’m honest — I also heard a story that was very uplifting. We can all use good news once in a while, so I thought that sharing it here would be a nice way to kick off what might otherwise be just a crappy Monday.
Woman buys back foreclosed home for stranger, by Monika Diaz | WFAA-TV
While the misfortune of others lured hundreds of bargain hunters to the foreclosure auction, Tracy said she came to find closure. The mother took her seat among a sea of investors and strangers to say goodbye to her Pottsboro home, which is located just west of Denison.
“She was crying and I asked her what she was upset about,” said Marilyn Mock, of Rockwall.
When Tracy’s home, “Number 73,” came up for auction, Mock raised her hand and bid. With no picture of the property in the auction book, Mock had only Tracy’s word on the home’s worth.
It was a second chance given to Tracy by a stranger.
Texas Cable News
I’m all choked up again. Stories like this make me think that maybe the world isn’t as cold and hard as it sometimes seems to be.
Posted by Lottie — Copyright © 2008 Rambling On
I came across a disturbing news article while tag surfing yesterday. The link was posted at Livinintheloin.
The article begins by saying that about eight years ago, all the benches were removed from Civic Center Plaza in San Francisco to prevent homeless people from “camping” on them. But after a serious crackdown on criminal activity, Supervisor Sophie Maxwell says that it’s time to give visitors and government employees a place to rest and admire the architecture.
“The plaza is a beautiful place, [where] people could sit and think and look at the beauty around them,” Maxwell said. “There’s a concern about homelessness, but if you put the rest of us in this position because of the homeless, that’s not a good way to run a city.”
A concern about homelessness? Here is what the alleged concern about homelessness sounds like this to me:
The homeless are putting real people in a terrible position. I mean, we don’t want to recognize their existence or acknowledge them as being human. We want to pretend they don’t exist while we sit and think and admire the architecture before returning to our comfortable suburban homes or hotels to sleep on our pillow-top mattresses. The homeless are ruining the scenery for everyone!
That is not a concern about homelessness! There is no concern about homelessness here. There is a concern that the homeless will make real people uncomfortable, but that does not even resemble “a concern for homelessness”, not one jot or iota!
Good thing Maxwell knows how to run a city, though:
This has been a really rough week and my emotions have been all over the place. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without the ongoing support of my wonderful husband, Michael.
No matter what’s going on or how difficult things are, I know I can always count on him for whatever I need. When I cry, he not only wipes my tears, he cries with me. When I’m frightened or anxious, he comforts and sooths me. When I’m excited he jumps up and down with me. When I’m proud or feeling a sense of accomplishment, he smiles and says he never had any doubt.
He patiently listens to me ramble on, and then responds in a way that lets me know he was listening to every word. He treats me with kindness and compassion. He reminds me that no matter what is going around around us, we are OK.
Thank you, Michael, for all the extra support this past week. I know it’s been difficult, and you’ve been just wonderful. You are my rock and my shelter in the storm. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.
I love you with all my heart!
As a proud member of Idiosyncratica , a writers blog-ring founded by my friend, Gary Murning, I will now embark on the first of our monthly writing topics:
[…] each member should introduce the other group members to the kind of fiction they write or enjoy reading and explain a little about how it relates to them — why it inspires/drives them etc.
Since I’m still developing my writing style and have only ever written short stories long, long ago for a creative writing class, I don’t have a lot to say on that front. That being the case, I will share with you what I enjoy reading, and do my best to explain why.
My son, who I’ll call John, will be starting middle school in August. He’s going through all the normal changes that boys his age experience, and things aren’t always easy. Sometimes I feel like I could run screaming from the house, ripping my hair out. But for the most part, John is a great kid.
We went grocery shopping today. John was a few steps behind me as we strolled through the aisles. I was just about to turn a corner when I heard him say, “Here, let me help you with that.”
I turned around just in time to see John lifting a case of sodas into an elderly woman’s shopping cart. At that precise moment, another woman of about the same age approached the same section, and appeared to be considering her selection. John stood back and waited until she had decided, then he helped her too.
The two ladies smiled at each other and appeared to be pleasantly surprised. They thanked John and called him a “fine boy”.
This sort of thing is not out of the ordinary for John. He really is a good kid and I’m proud to be his mom. As he continues to develop and grow, things will continue to change between us; it’s just part of the natural progression into manhood. Some days will be more difficult than others, and sometimes I may feel like I don’t know my son at all. Then I’ll remember days like this.
What John did couldn’t have been planned. He simply saw someone in need of help and offered assistance without hesitation. He didn’t need to be asked and he didn’t want or expect anything in return. That is part of who John is. And it’s no small part.
He really is one fine boy!