April 28th, 2001

Chalkboard

ADHD, the Crazy Gal at the Pet Store, and the Karmic Merits of Being the Fattest Person in the Room


I'm sorry but I think this bears looking at again.

Oh God am I tired. I had a longish day. I just finished updating my friends page. It was hard to delete people. I added way more than I deleted. In fact it was humiliating to me that I hadn't added certain friends sooner, I just hadn't noticed. Then there were the people who never post and who don;t even have me on their friend's lists but who I just didn't have the heart to remove. Plus there's the fact that I am one very scattered forgetful neglectful Live Journal friend. It's really awful. I went to mIRC the other day when Live Journal was really slow. I had several posts I wanted to put up, at lipglossgirl, btrip, howief and someone else and simply couldn't get them through. It was so frustrating. Anyway there I was and Lil was there and I couldn't place her, humiliation, she's fade and cryo's significant other. God, I know that, but I can't keep it all in my mind. Slowly I'm beginning to accept my psychiatrist's diagnosis of ADD, hell I might as well, I'm taking the medication.

I don;t mean to be selfish and forgetful. I really love my cyber friends. For example, I love Zuma and Cydniey but they don't even have me listed on their friends pages and I can only imagine why. I am a terrible Live Journal friend, I absolutely truly adore them, I love them, I care about them, if they were hurting I would be so sad, I think of them often, but do I track with them? Do I know what they are doing from day to day? No. I'm a complete fuck-up as a cyber pal, and it's not for lack of trying.

In the real world, I don't know how else to differentiate the two for you, hard versus soft, real versus unreal, I have always had few close friends and a big broad base of friends who I would love to goo deeper with, spend more time with, make more of a commitment to, but it's all i can do to return phone calls and try to keep the close friendships I do ahve alive. It's all about focus for me. So the question is, well for me for tonight anyway, how do I improve my focus? IN the meantime will you accept me as I am and know that I do care about you, even though I need you to shake my brain a bit every once in a while to help me shake off the fuzziness?

I truly had no idea I'd been living with a handicap this HUGE for my entire life. I know some people have thought it was selfishness or some kind of snobbery. That hurts me so much because I am such a loving everyman kind of gal. I'm not prejudiced, I'm not a social climber, I'll love people for who they are, rather than how they look, or what they have, or what they do. Social status and stupid crap like that has never meant anything to me. The more unique and compassionate you are though, well, that's what gets my attention. Intelligence and a great sense of humor are pretty appealing too. Although loving people for their uniqueness and creativity can be a kind of trap too, I've been snowed by people who look unique, so I guess I can make some shallow judgments based on appearance. I once cared a lot for a guy because he was scruffy and had a funny name and walked around with a parrot on his shoulder, it didn't turn out so well.

I guess my point was or is that I am realizing how hard it is for me to pay attention to people's details, to remember things like appointments and dates and plans. I am getting so much better now that I am taking the dread Ritalin drug : ( For the longest time I was afraid to talk about it here because I'm so afraid of the stigma, plus the idea that my ex could use this against me in any kind of custody dispute that might come up during our divorce. Although I think his being a forty year old bigamist who is dating and eighteen year old and living at his Mother's house kind of beats my ADD and possible bipolarity and depression hands down. And, (yes damnit I will begin this sentence with and) I forgot what I wanted to say here, well isn't that appropriate for an entry about my inability to focus and remember things?

You know about ten years or more ago, I started noticing how hard it was for me to remember really simple things, like the word scissors or anything I might need to access in everyday conversation. I remember talking to my ex about it back then, and saying that maybe I should see a neurologist but he, my ex, couldn't have cared less, and without his support I just sort of dismissed it as just so much drama on my part. Then there was the fact that I couldn't remember appointments and missed things and showed up incredibly late, lost papers, forgot to pay bills, had an extremely messy room and car no matter how much I tried to correct that. So I guess I'm starting, that's all I'll give this; starting to accept the fact that I may indeed have this disorder God damnit.

At least I'm not as bad off as the gal at the pet store yesterday who kept referring to God and her invisible Father and checking in with them to see what they wanted to tell me. I stopped in to pick something off and my friend Young who is Korean and easily frightened because she's petite and shy and doesn't speak perfect English, looked like she would cry if I left, so I peeked around the corner and there was this poor unfortunate woman acting out her schizophrenic delusions. Poor thing, she needed to be medicated so badly. She would say, "Christu Ti Amu" and turn around in a circle and then tell me things like, "God thinks being overweight is a sin, but if you get rid of all the skulls (what skulls?) he'll bless you in six weeks, he likes red, and purple, yes he likes purple, but he doesn't like fat, fat is a sin, overweight is childhood pain. Christu Ti Amu. I'll be right back. He likes athletes, he's handsome and muscular. Jesus is good looking but not as good looking as he is. He doesn't like pierced noses, nose rings, he doesn't like them and tattoos, those are a sin. I'll be right back. What are your necklaces? He's worried about them, hello, foreign, they look foreign, could be a problem, ask your Oriental friend here to explain them to you, should be okay. Christu Ti Amu. You need to be careful of your neighbors, the fat weird one shouldn't be a problem though. Not him, the other one. There's a good skull on the Mexican cross, raccoons are good. Okay thank you gotta go." Scott was so funny last night when I told him that she drove a white Ford Bronco and that it looked like she had taken a blue wax pencil and scribbled all over it, he cut right to how totally absurd, (to say nothing of dangerous) it was that she was driving. So anyway, at least I'm not as bad as that.

I like to think there are souls here, who for some good reason, maybe for karmic-brownie-points, in the ether/other dimension or wherever, decided they could take on being the person that other people aren't as bad off as. In my case I swear I think I figured I might as well be fatter than other people so that at least other people could feel better when they walk into a room and are insecure about their thighs. Oh phew there she is, she's fatter than I am. I'm just glad I don't have to be the meanest or the dumbest or the ugliest person in the room. Although now that I've said that I'm wondering if my karmic life-o-meter just clicked over and tallied up three more lives I'll have to live being mean, stupid, and ugly, in order to develop more compassion at a soul level.
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I Am One Very Pissed Off Mother

Sometimes I hate people and want to hit them. Honestly where it concerns anyone I love or feel protective of, and that includes my own tender hearted self, when someone is mean, rude, arrogant, bossy or controlling I simply want to reach out and hit them. Now the problem is this doesn't mesh with my Billy Jack School of mellow conflict resolution, but then again maybe it really does because if you remember he was the guy who would take off his boots and kick the shit out of anyone if they hurt someone he loved, namely Indian children and hippie chicks.

Beau is on the crew of this stupid talent show at his school. I say stupid because I'm angry at the Fucking, yes I have been swearing a lot lately, and yes I did just get my period so I'm in my DMS phase, parents who organize these things. You'd think it would be all about love and letting children express themselves and I've gotta tell you, maybe I'm cynical but I think there are a lot of failed actor/singer/produer/directors out there who want to make it up to themselves by putting on a "very big show." Like I said, it makes me want to hit people.

Anyway Mr. and Mrs. Self Importance organized this thing, and all of the kids who wanted to be in it had to put their acts together in advance and audition for the show with these pre-rehearsed performances. I think this gave a lot of stage Mommies and Daddies a chance to push their kids to perform. Believe me there were a lot of really baaaad little darlings, and last night I saw this Mother outside the theatre yelling at her tiny little girl in tap shoes who was afraid to go on. She was grabbing her by the wrist and shouting affirmations in her ear, "I am brave. I will dance my heart out. I will wow them." The Mother had such a lame faded wanna be glory about her and was pressuring this poor little girl that I wanted to hit her, grab the tiny little tap dancer and run.

Silly screwed up kid-things are the best part of shows like this. When children toddle out onto the stage, forget what they are supposed to do, and stand their waving, while some parent whispers prompts from the wings, I think that's about as adorable as it gets. I swear I'd rather watch ten numbers where a little girl drops her hula hoops, says oops and smiles, than one overlypolished fifth grader with an overbite belting out There's No Business Like Show Business. Having spent my whole life acting, or wanting to act, I know I would never want to impose this on Beau. I saw way too many parents act just like this along the way, sadly I'm probably the one kid who would have benefited from having a pushy stage Mom, but my Mom was too competitive with me, and that's another story.

Anyway last night I went to Beau's show knowing I wouldn't have a ticket, there are only so many seats in this rinky dink theatre and they all sold out the day they went on sale. Beau wanted me there, though so I figured I could scoot in somehow. I stood in the back for a while and then at the intermission Beau asked me if I'd peek in from the doors nearer to the front. I think he wanted to be able to see me seeing him run across the stage and give people their mikes. Anyway Beau took me around the side of the auditorium and made me cross in front of the stage to get to the other side where he wanted me to wait by this open door where I would be able to peek in at him. People were filing into their seats and by this time, most of the selfish parents who could only bother to stay long enough to see their kid and no one else's, had split. So there were actually plenty of empty seats.

As I crossed in front of this lectern, this fat puffy blonde hee-haw bitch, (yeah I can be just as judgmental about the overweight as a skinny gal, isn't that pathetic), called out to me and said, "Umm Jacqui, you can't be in here unless you buy a ticket." I wanted to turn around and say, I got yer ticket lady," but for the sake of my son I didn't. Maybe this is why I like the Sopranos so much, because in this crazy world where people are stressing out over the control over a children;s talent show, it's nice to know that some people won;t take shit form anyone. Buy a ticket, harumph, like I was trying to cheat them of their twenty-five dollar entrance fee. Yeah, twenty-five dollars for a fucking 1st through 5th grade public school talent show. Can you imagine that? Well, that's Brentwood for you, all the parents who couldn't get their kids into the few private schools in the area, think they're too good for the one school they had to settle for, and don't give a shit about the kids whose families can't afford a ticket price like that, jerks. Like I said, hitting, me want to. So this gal upset me by yelling that out to me, bustling along as if she would personally toss me if I tried to sit, but Beau said, "It's okay we're just going to cross to the other doors." So I sat on a dirty lunch bench in the cold outside, for about an hour and a half, so Beau would know I was there for him.

I could barely hear or see anything and then a woman in a motorized wheel chair drove up and kind of parked in front of me and I had to crane my neck around her tall husband to see. They were there to see the aforementioned little girl avec hula hoops and couldn't find anyone to help accommodate them. Then as if that weren't insulting enough a rude man whose job it was the keep the kids who were about to descend on us for the lining up and grand finale entrance looked at these people and said, "Uh there is going to be a lot of activity here." I was shocked because he said it with such annoyed callous indifference and in the same tone that you would tell a bug to shoo. I felt so sorry for this determined woman with the twisted hands who was fighting so hard to see her graceful daughter perform. Then as if that wasn't bad enough, another self-important stage hand with a headset came along and shut the doors in our faces after we'd been watching the show their for about an hour and we were left to stare at the flat blank vista of two closed schooldoors. I didn't mind as much that they did it to me, but to close a door in the face of someone in a wheelchair, man that takes hardness I don't hope I'll ever posses.

Then suddenly there were swarms of kids in cowboy hats waiting to come in a dance this lame song the parents who put this whole thing together had written for them. Crap crap and more crap. Can you tell I'm mad at the woman who told me I couldn't come in without a ticket? She wrote the damn thing. Yee haw. But it gets worse. At the very end, for the finale, the crew gets to join in the final number, and Beau was just following directions and went to open the back doors to go outside where he was supposed to line up. Then this fucking pig of a man, who had already insulted me about my dog-letter (he lives behind me) by making some rude comment about its rambling, (I know it rambled, but I don't need him to tell me that, leather-wearing, cowboy-hat, jerk geek), grabbed Beau so hard by the upper part of his arm that it left welts in the shape of his fingers. So Beau wound up crying through the finale and came to me and showed me. Well, fierce Mommy Lion that I am, I grabbed Beau and waded backwards through this dumb slow moving crowd, went up to Mr. leather cowboy, interrupted his conversation with a sharp burst of his name, pulled up Beau's sleeve and showed it to him. He said something lame like, "Aww I didn't really pull him that hard," and made other excuses, but I was livid. I told him that I didn't care if God himself landed on the stage, and my son's opening that door would bring an end to the world, that no one had the right top grab a child like that, and he'd better apologize immediately. He apologized but half heartedly and it didn't erase the damage. when I spoke on the phone to the "director" (oh puhlease) today, he just blew off all of my concerns one by one with nothing but excuses and, by his cold disconcerted tone, I could just feel him thinking I'm difficult and Beau is wimpy for crying. I even further humiliated myself by tossing a, "You know I'm a a working professional actor," into the mix. It just burst out of the depths of my wounded Mommy insecurity and now I can't take it back. He said, and picture Lucy's boss on the second Lucy show saying this, I don't remember his name, "Yee-eh-ehssss, I think I reememberrr your mentioning that befo-o-o-re," basically the equivalent of, "and I'm supposed to do what with that information, give a shit? I am the director of da da da da, THE TALENT SHOW."

So the moral of the story is; when putting on plays for children, fire the wannabe Broadway professionals, bind and gag the stage parents, and let the nice ones in, especially if they are in a motor powered wheel chair, oh and twenty-five dollars is too much to expect a parent who has already spent precious time and gas money just trying to be here in the fist place. I live nearby, but some of the parents come from the inner city areas and they aren't in a position to afford ticket prices like this. One more thing, where the hell is all of the money we were supposed to get from the lottery, school bond measures and the reapportioning of our school district and why oh why are schools always so busy fundraising?