Everyday empiricism for everyone

via www.befuddled.org

I recommend this cute blog filled with notions for living...maybe a bit of wisdom...originality...not bad writing either :-)

This morning I watched "Face the Nation" host Bob Schieffer interview Michelle Bachman. This is an incredibly egoistic, holier than thou, teabagger who appears to honestly believe no one deserves any credit for her 'self proclaimed' success. She is one of these people who have been able to take advantage of all of the best educational and financial opportunities available, yet, she is somehow above the majority of Americans who struggle with healthcare, education, and financial issues each and everyday.

She would proudly kick healthcare reform and return all of us back to the days of big insurance death panels in her endeavour to support 'business' and capitalism. She claims all Americans do not want "Obamacare" but she neglects to mention the 40 million citizens stuck in the crack with no hope for decent health insurance if reform is repealled.

Schieffer called her out on her lies, but instead of answering directly, she opted to incriminate Obama instead. With ethics like hers, we would indeed be in trouble. If she was caught stealing a candy bar, she would blame it on her shopping partner. When asked if she was misleading the public with certain statements such as, "Obama has issued only 1 offshore drilling permit" when he had, in fact, issued 270 at the time of her false accusation, she stumbled off onto another Obama rant with unemployment figures as the subject matter.

She proudly informed Bob that she was a Christian that God speaks to. God tells Bachman to lie, I would guess. Whatever the case, I feel Michelle Bachman should consider becoming a patient in one of her own mental health clinics. A brain as rattled as hers does not belong in politics.

My mother wanted me to denounce my father, but I never could. He probably deserved her anger; after all, he drank, traveled globally, and was opportunistic with women outside his family. But none of that mattered to me, and it still doesn't. I absolutely loved who he was, and I missed him. He left on a plane when I was only a seven year old girl; yet, he was still my boss, the voice in my head, the questions I raised. He was Godlike in my opinion, and unattainable.

She rallied against him on one day, and then sang his praises on the next. She wanted me to hate him…she wanted me to write him a hateful letter; I look back on those days with guilt and shame. And like most employees with an absentee boss, I made horrendous mistakes while meandering through my early life. I could not, and never will, blame my glorious father. My mother relentlessly punished me for my loyalty.

Dad tried to keep us all in some kind of family setting. He started a business he didn't want, purchased yet another house, and suffered through my mother's angry, and justified, tantrums. After twenty-seven years of tense negotiations, they dissolved their affiliation, and my mother quickly moved on. My stepfather was very good to me, and I respected him. After a few years, my mother moved on again, and I respected my new stepfather; his two children came to live with us. We fought over clothes, chili dogs, and pets, but we loved each other. Something happened between them, and it was all over.

My mother continued her tirades against Dad. I refused to utter one negative word against my father. Once in a while, I would receive a beautiful package, or a nicely written detailed letter. Twice, my dad telephoned from overseas—I was thrilled. I hung on to my beliefs, and I never criticized my father's choices. They were his, and he had reasons beyond my wisdom for what he was doing. My heart was blissfully pure, as long as I refused to tote her baggage.

I feel sorry for children who attack their fathers, and I understand that some men are not worth giving the time of day. However, I have watched perfectly fine, and attainable, fathers suffer their ex wife's wrath via their children. The manipulations, verbal and physical, are difficult for unprepared family members to resist. There is no respect, or any boundaries, just an all out unmitigated hatred, and the fatherly role is diminished to nothing in the midst of mental warfare.

Because my own father was so far away, and there was no internet, or even very reliable international mail, and I could not just pick up the phone and call him up, our separation was complete. I couldn't send him my report card, or ask him for help with my homework. I didn't have his friends, or any access to his relatives. There wasn't any stepmother for me to blame, or cast aspersions upon. And now when I look back into the angry, dark, abyss of my mother's heart, I am thankful she was unable to taint my beliefs.

All of this life experience makes it incredibly hard for me to understand why a child would throw a perfectly good father away, or not fight for him. I am also puzzled by the self righteous hatred steaming off of women who hold the false belief that some war against a child's father will benefit the family in some practical manner, or that it will convince others her mistakes are justified.

Towards the end of my mother's life, she would spend hours at the table looking at photographs and discuss her regrets. She wanted our father to come back stateside, but he had already passed away by then. I will never allow history to repeat itself. My own child understands he is not allowed to question the decisions me and his dad make. He believes in the perfection found only in Jesus Christ; our child will always forgive us in order to find peace in his own heart. He accepts our way of life, friends, and family values.

Any parent that alienates a child from its other parent is simply extracting from that child's self esteem. Wayward mothers who expect their children to tote their angry baggage packed with regret, and jealously, are selfish. Not only that, fathers who are forced to restart their lives should receive everyone's respect, space, and right to privacy.

My life is just a blur of highway and work. I have one of the lowest quality existences known to humanity. I feel overwhelmed today, and angry, at all the lies I have been told. I am disgusted with the people who have lied about me. I am frustrated because I have no time to write.

I am irritated with Typepad and Google. Typepad for the service I have not received, and Google for messing up my email account.

When I want to start a new paragraph these days, my cursor gets stuck....so I have to keep pushing the enter key until suddenly the cursor drops about 15 lines, and then I have to backspace it into place. I am SICK of that. It is a Typepad issue, I want them to fix it.

I am in a Starbuck's Coffee shack thinking of the long day ahead...a day in which I will run for free. I have hundreds of miles to cover.

With no time to write, I can't organize my thoughts, nothing is in perspective, and valuable ideas just slip away.

If not for the wretched and jealous small minded hateful bitches around me, I could be doing something else. I could be home at night, with time to write, enjoying my child, in a real home. Maybe soon...

Today we are in Stockton, California, enjoying the cool weather. I drove out here from Utah over the weekend, stopping in Nevada for a night with the slot machines, breathing cigarette smoke, and sleeping peacefully until Sunday morning. We woke up to a hot breakfast, a friendly waitress, and coffee steaming out of an old chipped cup.

At the local discount store, I bought my son a jacket for one buck, sweat pants for two, and a microwave chicken dinner. We headed over to Donner's Pass and I told him the story about settlers cannabalizing each other, and my own nightmares at Gold Run. The snow was still deep around Tahoe, and the chilly rain followed us into Sacramento.

We are waiting on onions and cherries now...sitting in the driveway, listening to the weed eater. The sun is finally shining, and our gloomy weekend is over. Soon, we will be back in hot, steamy, Houston chatting about how wonderful and cool it was "up northwest."

Until then my child will read his books on the KIndle, play his little Nintendo game, and watch his movies on the flat screen. Everyday we take a nice walk, eat one restaurant dinner, and think about the days ahead when camp starts, then school, then fall break, then Christmas....