Loud Pipes Irritate Lives

I'm home.
We're all home.
Or at least we should be if we have the choice, because there is literally a pandemic happening and we're spreading it by acting like selfish assholes.  Which, you know, is unfortunately pretty par for the American course.
So I'm home, it's a beautiful day and we have all the windows open despite living in a corner house with a stop sign in front, which, for who the fuck knows what reason, is apparently optional for about thirty percent of those who pass by.  This means there's a lot of honking, there've been four accidents since we moved in, and even some of the people who actually stop at the sign, choose to squeal out while also blasting music on speakers that literally set off car & house alarms.  Sometimes, this is so startling that I get little flashbacks of past, unrelated traumas in my body and feel angry or sick or confused.  Which needless to say, blows.
For this reason, I decided to make a tasteful but not too bourgie-sounding sign asking people to please not do that inconsiderate shit.  My sign was maybe two feet high, white with black painted lettering, I attached it to the pole of the stop sign with some wire, and it said, "PLEASE DON'T DRIVE LIKE A JERK!"  Not just because I'm sick of PTSD flashbacks while gardening for the benefit of some tire-squealing stranger jerk, but also because lots of kids live in this neighborhood and I swear I see a lost/found dog posting on NextDoor daily.  It felt reasonable when I made it, all things considered but it's possible "please don't drive like a jerk!" in all caps was a bit much. I thought about this a significant amount however and here was my logic:
The people who are driving like total assholes, are probably used to seeing and disregarding the "Slow Children Playing" signs.
(I take issue with these because there should be a comma after "slow," otherwise it conveys an entirely different message!)
But this led me to thinking more about the type of person who squeals their tires at a stop sign in a residential neighborhood at 1pm, 4pm, 11pm, 2am, 4am, 6am, 9am...  Based on the types of vehicles that do this and my guesses at their drivers' mental states, levels of social emotional intelligence, self-awareness, and what would get their attention & consideration, "PLEASE DON'T DRIVE LIKE A JERK!" was what I decided upon.  Also considering what my neighbors would accept and not be offended by.
I put my sign up around 10:30am on a Thursday, by 2:30pm my partner had watched an older man in an older giant SUV stop, get out, look at the sign, remove it, and put it in his back seat.
I put my second, nearly identical sign in the same spot around 4:30 that same day, and by 10:30 it also was gone.

I'm pretty mystified about why, to be perfectly honest, this message is unacceptable so someone/s.  I can guess at reasons, but when it comes down to the sentiment and the fucking abhorrent driving people choose to partake in thirty feet from my literal front door, I just don't understand.  I considered making one more sign with a differently worded plea like, "please drive safely," or "children playing," or "drive like you live here," but ultimately decided not to because I was frustrated for multiple days, by the other two being taken and am not so much interested in repeating that.    
...
So, I found some plain, black, label making stick-on letters and decided I would use the stop sign to my advantage.  I cut out letters for the word "please" which I planned to place above the "STOP" on the sign.  Then I cut out letters for "driving," and "crazy," to put below "STOP."  Yes, I know it's technically illegal to actually do this, which is part of why the sticker letters are still sitting on the side table next to our couch.  But God damn it!  Maybe I'm just old now and feeling very "get off my grass!!" but I pay a decent amount of money to live in my home, it's my first, I care for & repair it, I improve it, I love it quite a lot, and I just don't want my dog, my partner, or anyone/thing else to be struck, right outside my house, by some shitbag trying to improve their sense of self-worth by owning a completely unnecessarily loud-ass car and driving it as if they are the only human in existence.  I have enough trauma in my past, thank you so very much.
Too much to ask?
#TMTA?


(While typing this (about an hour), I heard three sets of cars honk at each other for not stopping, three with excessively loud pipes, more than I could count going way too fast, and one tire squeal.)

Money, Again.

For good reason!  Or maybe not.

I've been struggling with balancing all the requirements of life, well forever, but in the past couple years or so it's felt more intense.  I have hundreds of ideas for creative endeavors: writing, visual art, furniture refurbs, businesses, sewing, activism, etc, etc.  Thing is, once I get home from seven or so hours of wrangling children with Special Needs, I am BEAT.  It's the best job I've had in my 34 years of life, but it takes so much out of me that when I'm finally on my own time I can't seem to do anything but sit and wind down with Netflix.
I love my job more than I'm capable of expressing, and I'm extremely good at it.  If all I had to do to make ends meet was work that job, I think I could figure out a way to balance things.  Unfortunately, because I chose to get a Bachelor's Degree, had some illnesses and surgeries some years ago with the bills to match, and must pay all the other necessities of being alive in 2018 America, I technically work four jobs.
Teaching is my full-time, five day a week job, but often when I leave there I go to one of two former student's home to take care of them, or to a group home I've been working in for six years to take care of the clients there.  In addition, I sew scrunchies out of scrap fabrics which I sell at local shops, I dog sit, I collect improve and sell antique and vintage items online and in local stores, I make art which I occasionally sell, and I try to maintain a comfortable and organized home at the same time.
I also try to keep up with all of the lovely friends and acquaintances I have made throughout my life, but that's not always something I can do.  I simply don't have the time or the energy which is both upsetting and very sad since my relationships are what I value most in life.
I would also like to read more books, make more art, take more hikes, hunt for more rocks, walk my dog more, sit and chat with my partner, cook healthy and delicious food each evening, keep up with repairs to my car, go on trips, travel the country and world, brush up on my ASL, learn more about all that I'm interested in, be more active with social justice, and spend more time with my family.
When will I be able to do all of this?  It doesn't seem like too much to ask and seems fairly reasonable to me.  Really, what I'm yearning for is the time and means to explore myself and the world with those I love.  Isn't that why we're here?  In my opinion, yes.  However, at some point in human history, someone recognized that they could do less and have more if they exploited other human beings, that caught on, evolved, and now we are completely and utterly enslaved by money and by those who believe they are entitled to and must hoard all of it that they can get their hands on.

It's abhorrent to me, and to many others, yet it continues because those of us who recognize what's happening have literally no power to change it.  I protested and rallied in the streets in my late teens and twenties, but at this juncture it feels pointless.  There are absolutely successes here and there that started with a rally or protest, but I'm quite sure they were before my time.  Now that I'm older and can clearly see how entrenched all of the corrupt systems in this country and the world are, the more pointless all that energy appears to be.  Not one of the millionaires or billionaires really actually care about our well worded signs and en masse chanting, and if they do will certainly not suddenly decide to share their totally unnecessary masses of wealth to heal the world or disrupt the status quo.
I say that because even people I interact with day to day or see posting things online, don't seem to understand and/or don't seem to care that we are living beneath massive structures of corrupted and broken systems whose weight we will eventually crumble beneath. So many of us just keep doing what we believe we are supposed to do and trust that the systems we grew up with will continue to function and serve us as they were created to do.  But, they weren't created to serve us.  Period.  They were created to make money for those who oversee and own these systems and to keep us in debt and blinded to what could be possible if they were gotten rid of or reformed.  I think Noam Chomsky explains it much more clearly:

"Students who acquire large debts putting themselves through school are unlikely to think about changing society.  When you trap people in a system of debt, they can't afford the time to think.  Tuition fee increases are a 'disciplinary technique,' and, by the time students graduate, they are not only loaded with debt, but have also internalized the 'disciplinarian culture.'  This makes them efficient components of the consumer economy." 

And that is all we are; "...efficient components of the consumer economy."  This applies to medical debt, credit card debt, student debt, etc.  

MONEY IS A CONSTRUCT CREATED TO KEEP US DOCILE AND SIDETRACKED,
and debt is the most powerful weapon within this construct.

We stay docile and focused on making money, because we believe what we've been told and what has been indoctrinated into our minds for our entire lives.  We believe that we all can and must pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and if we work hard enough, we will make it.  The truth is, we all can't make it.  Literally.  Infinite growth is impossible and we all can't live like or be millionaires, or even hundreds of thousandaires.  Despite the idea being presented as possible for anyone who works hard enough for it in this land of opportunity; that just isn't how the system functions in reality.  There are exceptions of course, but the vast majority of us will be working and barely getting by until we die.  Which is absolutely the purpose of debt.  If you are a person of color, things are even more difficult because of the rampant racism and active systematic oppression so many insist doesn't exist.

Unfortunately, this system also thrives on fear and ignorance so we are constantly being pulled away from one another.  The idea that we are all so different is continually suggested both subtly and directly throughout society.  We are constantly sidetracked by the micro in our lives that we often forget about the macro.  There is always something in our peripherals waving a bright flag to point out the hypocrisy in an old song, to yell about patriotism, to insist evolution is nonsense, to whine about the behavior of others, to tell us everything will be fine if we keep buying things, to condone deplorable actions, to remind us of the fancy house/boat/car/clothes we could have if we just keep our heads down and continue working, that so many of us are totally unable to see what is really happening.  How can we get together, have a thoughtful discourse, and force change when we are all struggling simply to live?  

We are required by law to let insurance companies take our money every month, just in case we get sick or hurt.  Then when we do they have the power to deny payment for our treatments even though, if we've been paying them for a year, they already have AT LEAST twelve hundred of our dollars for doing literally nothing.  In addition, if your policy is bad, as most are since the decent policies are too expensive to afford, insurance will only pay a portion of your medical bill and you are left to figure out the rest.  When we consider that money is a human construct, does it really make sense that a human being must have it to be kept alive and hold value as an individual?

In addition, you must have somewhere to live if you are to be a component of a consumer economy (aka a "functioning member of society"), so you must also pay money to do so.  Unable to work?  Too much debt to be accepted on a basic rental lease or to make mortgage payments?  Too bad.  You must figure it out or live on the street because money, A HUMAN CONSTRUCT, determines how deserving you are of a roof over your head and whether or not that roof leaks.

Just another day in the life of a Special Educator...

Student in bathroom after peeing on one of his teachers. He is holding his business as he sits on the toilet:

D: "D has tail?"
*pauses*
"Nooo, D has penis! It's a...."
*Points at it.*
"P...penis!"

Me: yes, that's what it is, D.

D: "Penis!"
*flopping it around and etc*

"Ms Sadie, it's a..."
*long pause, staring at me and waiting*

Me: Yes, D, it's a penis.

D: *examining himself* "Ice cream cone! It's a ice cream cone!"

Me: *stifled guffaw* Yes, it kind of looks like that doesn't it?

D: *holding and pointing to it*
"D eat ice cream cone?"
*Pretends to eat it.*

Me: *can hardly contain myself* I don't think that would taste very good, D.

D: *still holding it* "D eat penis!"

Me: Oh, no, I don't think that would taste good.

D: "No eat penis. Pull off?"
*yanks on it*

Me: Oh ouch, that would hurt, wouldn't it? Hey, D, let's be all done in the bathroom now.

D: "Okay!"
*stands up to leave*

A Rough Day

Last Friday was a rough day.

I teach kids with special needs in a level four public school.  (There are only five behavioral levels.  Level five are those who are in constant crisis mode and usually live in a crisis facility.  The kids I work with are one level below that.)  One of my students is a very difficult kid whose behaviors appear to emerge at random and almost never subtly.  Thursday, he was a snuggly, sleepy, lovey little kid, giving hugs and kisses and saying I love you.  Friday, he purposely peed on the floor of the bathroom while smiling at me then saying,"You like it?" 

"No, I don't.  I don't like it at all."  

He smiled and replied,"You know you like it."  

When I leaned to clean it up, he began to spit on me, which I have learned to stop reacting to at all since that seems to be the reason he does it in the first place; the reaction.  Although, nothing is ever consistent with this kid.  

Following the peeing and spitting, he had a BM (bowel movement) and then refused to allow me to help him wipe.  His dexterity is not great and he can't do this on his own, so I just had to wait him out.  (Something else I have learned is a valuable tool.)  Eventually he got bored and started to lean forward to mess with his pants or something, and I snapped my hand down and got a wipe in.  He then pointed at me, frowned, and raised his voice with some nonsensical Somali, English hybrid words I couldn't understand followed by, "you!!" and a swat in my direction.  I dodged and waited some more, repeated the above twice, and finally got him out of the bathroom with a clean bottom and a smile on his face.  On the walk back to the classroom, he listened so well and instead of climbing on the bikes in the common area or dropping to the floor, walked slowly right to the classroom.  

He worked on a puzzle for awhile, had a snack of his choice, and while he was happily eating, I walked over to get a sip of water.  He got up and came over, slapped me hard on the back between my shoulder blades, and then sunk his teeth into my arm.  He then smiled his crooked little smile as I yiped,"ouch!" and he said,"Oh, sorry.  Sorry, Miss Saddie!"  His brow furrowed and eyes looked sad, as he kissed my cheek and sat on my lap to watch a video.  

Ten minutes later it was time for him to put his coat on.  This kid loathes putting his coat on, and we were two staff short in our classroom, so it was up to me to wrestle him into it.  First he smacked me a couple times with his hands, then dropped to the floor and would not get up.  When I tried to put the coat on while he was on the floor, he began to kick and got me hard on each arm and once on my head.  When he found that I was still not deterred, he flung his head back and butted me a good one in the jaw.  This was when I tapped out, told the sixty four year old teacher in the room with me that I was done and went across the hall to get more staff to help.  (He will often listen to one of the teachers in that room.) Someone came over to help and we had to escort him out to his bus, one of us on each side, then bribe him with bubbles to get on.  

Once all the busses were gone, I rushed to get going because it was Friday and I have therapy every other week at 4:30p on the other side of the city.  My therapist had recently changed the time to 4p, so I was really hurrying and arrived with enough time to stop and get some gas.  Before getting to the gas station however, I could not help but notice that every fourth vehicle on the road was driving like a complete maniac and I had to make evasive maneuvers twice in that short drive, to avoid what was sure to have been an accident.  

When I pulled into the gas station I took out the gas card a friend had given me (because money is the worst ever), and stuck it in the pump.  This didn't work, so I tried again, and again, then threw my purse into my car, locked it, and went into the building with the gas card.  I waited behind several people taking their sweet times to pay, then was told that nope, sorry, no gift cards today because their internet is down.  I then went back out to my car to get another way to pay, brought that in, and left to get to my appointment.

Upon arriving at my therapist's office, her door was closed which I thought was odd since I was two or three minutes late.  I looked at the text exchange and discovered that the change to a 4p appointment time started the next week, not this one.  So I made myself some tea, which I promptly scalded my hand with, then sat down and played stupid phone games for half an hour.  

When our session had ended and I had spent the majority of it explaining why things feel so painfully hopeless to me so often, how I feel paralyzed and trapped by money, and how there seems to be no escape from that, I went out to my car to head home and found a parking ticket resting beneath the wiper, fluttering in the breeze.  As I looked at it, I watched the rush hour, Uptown Minneapolis traffic, race by and thought how easy it would be to just step in front of one of these hurried commuters' vehicles and probably end it all.  I thought about the pain I would feel and how I would immediately regret having done it, but how the physical would (at least partially) outweigh the emotional, and I'd have a short respite.  I thought about the person who would have hit me and how they would be scarred forever because of it, about my blood on the street, about my dog waiting at home for me, about my mom and her reaction when she got the call that her only daughter had been hit by a car in the big bad city, and I took the ticket from my windshield, got into my Honda and started it up.  Still teary eyed, I headed through the familiar streets toward the interstate and as I reached the busiest and most confusing intersection in the area (the Hennepin-Lyndale split) the light turned red.  I was about six cars from the crosswalk, and could think of nothing but getting home to my bed which I would not leave for the remainder of the evening.  As I sat waiting, I saw an older (mid seventies) looking man open the door of his big Ford pickup and look back over the traffic lined up behind him.  He looked a little confused, and I immediately thought,"Oh, I bet you anything this truck won't be moving when the light changes."  

He stood there for some time, I watched, and then the light flipped to green and the three or so cars between he and I, pulled around him honking and sped off while the other two lanes of traffic zoomed by on each side.  He was, of course, in the center lane.  I pulled closer to his truck and put on my hazards then opened my door and yelled out,"Do you need help?!"  Obviously sans dentures he responded,"I think so!"  So I pulled up closer and jumped out of my car, ran up to his, and asked what he was trying to do since it seemed he was attempting to push the full-sized pickup on his own while also steering it.  He explained that he just needed to push it out of the center lane and to the shoulder, and without a thought, I ran back to the rear and started pushing.  Somehow, I was moving this truck up a slight incline, on my own, and then I realized that the cars passing were not likely to see what was happening here and would continue to attempt passing on both sides which meant that either the truck would plow into one of them, one of them would plow into the truck, or I would be smashed in between this truck and some impatient driver.  Just then, one of the cars trying to pass on the right, stopped and the driver jumped out to help push, then one other driver did the same and we had the truck moving pretty quickly over to the curb.  The old man was still trying to push and steer simultaneously and I looked up just in time to see him lose his footing, while still holding onto the steering wheel.  He legs were dragging on the ground as he held on and his entire body was about to slip under the truck when I ran up and thrust my arms under his armpits, hefting him up.  His old, fat, poodle dog, excited to see a new person, was wagging his tail and trying to jump out to say hello while this was happening, and the old man was saying,"No Buddy!  You stay in there!"  For a moment I held up the man's weight with one arm as I pushed the dog back into the passenger's seat, the men helping to push the truck stopped pushing and made some uncomfortable joke about falling but did not step in to help me hold up this grown man's weight, and about then the man found his footing and stood.  I told him I thought it would be best if he just get into the truck and we will push it while he steers.  He resisted this a bit, but I insisted, rolled down the window for him, and helped him into his seat.  He then resisted my shutting the door behind him and for some reason wanted to keep the door open.  I insisted we close the door, this was done, and I ran back to help push again.  In no time we had the truck on the side of the road and I ran back to my car which was now just sitting in the center lane behind a very busy intersection, with traffic flying by on both sides.  I jumped in, waved at the two men who had pulled over to help, and continued home.  

When I got home, I let my dog out, ate a salad in my bed, and then lay there for several hours watching Cold Case Files and crying off and on.  It occurred to me as a lay there that I hadn't thought, even for a moment, about the possible consequences of jumping into rush hour traffic to single handedly push a very large pickup.  I very easily could have been killed, hurt, or had yet another car totalled.  Luckily nothing happened but a surge of adrenaline that gave me super strength and stupid courage.  Maybe I could find that old man and he could pay my parking ticket.

Last Friday was a rough day. 

Go Fuck Yoursel...Wait...Thanks!

Tonight when I asked a dear, curmudgeonly friend what he thought of my blog since he had recently read it in its entirety, he told me that it all sounded to him like,"a teenage Andy Rooney wrote it."  Which is funny, as many things he says are, but not exactly what I was going for.  So I was a little bummed about it for a bit, and then it occurred to me that (although a sexist, racist, ornery old man) Andy Rooney was on TV for fifty years and incredibly famous for writing about what he thought about things in the world.   So, thanks dear friend!  (Even thought that was kind of a dick thing to say.)

Money Is Slavery

    I always knew the health care system in this country was screwed, but I guess up until now I hadn't had to deal with it first hand because I was in school and had Medical Assistance.  Now, since I graduated and have a real job, I make too much to qualify for MA or even MNCare, even though I make less than 30 grand a year.  Maybe that seems like it should be enough, but there's rent, which is about 60% of my budget and I have one of the cheapest apartments there is.  Then there are student loan payments (about 20% of what I make goes to them), a car payment (pretty cheap all things considered), car insurance, basic utilities, gas, personal needs, etc.  All of that is a lot, but I could handle it, until recently when I was forced by the US government to purchase myself health insurance.  With the dental that I also need, this ends up being about $250/mo.  Which, working 29 days a month, I can handle.  HOWEVER.  This insurance covers next to nothing. 
    I had to go have my tooth pulled recently which was a little over $500.  Delta is supposed to send a check to reimburse me for at least some of that which I had no choice but to charge on a credit card.  I got the check from them yesterday, and they paid me a whopping $67.  WHAT!?  And then, for the emergency room visit I had to also make, I got a statement from Blue Cross telling me they would cover $50 of the $500 there. 
    Now, my question is, what the FUCK am I doing paying almost $250/mo for insurance that covers almost nothing!?  If I wasn't paying Blue Cross and Delta every month, I could pay off the actual medical bills in about four months.  But since I have to keep paying them while also trying to pay the medical bills and rent and student loans and a car payment and car insurance and everything else I need to pay for to keep myself from drowning and/or being completely miserable…it's hopeless!
    Consider also, that I buy almost nothing new, so I pay less.  I cut my own hair, do my own nails, change my own oil.  I take other people's "trash" and sell it for supplemental income, I don't have cable, I don't drink very often, I have never upgraded my cell phone and only have the most basic plan (no data).  Overall, I am not a frivolous spender and I use what I have or can find to create what I need/want.  Yet still, in this "system," I am forced to work every single day just to get by. 
    You could say, well Sadie, why don't you get rid of your car?  Why didn't you just buy a cheaper shitty one?  Why did you go to school if you didn't want to pay loans?  Why don't you just get a job that pays better and hate every single day of your life so that you can support big pharma and the rest of the corporations that are raping and enslaving everyone in this country who isn't a millionaire? 
Good questions italic font, good questions.  The reason is, that I am a human being with aspirations and goals.  I am curious and I have a conscience and a mind and not only do I think I deserved to replace my 20 year old car with a ten year old car that actually starts every time I turn the key, but also I am required to have a vehicle for my job. I can't sell my soul for money.  I just can't.  And I won't. 
    What kind of a world do we live in, where we have to earnestly consider whether or not we can financially afford to be healthy and continue living?  The food that's best for you costs the most and the stuff that makes you fat and sick is all we can afford.  Yeah, I'm sure many of us would love to try a juice cleanse, but who can spend $150 a week on fresh produce?  The food we are forced to eat then, inhibits brain function, affects activity levels, leads to sedentary lifestyles, leads to illness, leads to needing medical attention, which is exactly why pharmaceutical companies invest billions of dollars in fast food chains. 
    We Americans like to think we have choices and freedoms, and we do. We are allowed to choose between this powerless puppet or that powerless puppet when we vote, we are allowed to choose which billion dollar health care corporation will screw us out of our hard earned money every month, we are allowed to choose which over processed and/or genetically modified foods we'd like to eat, we are allowed to choose whether to be surveilled via street cameras or the ones in our smart phones and televisions, we are allowed to choose which clothing and electronics made by Asian children we will wear or own, we are allowed to choose between multimillion dollar companies with purposely awful customer service for our cell and internet service, and we are allowed to choose legal or illegal drugs to help us manage the depression that comes along with all of these choices. 
    We are allowed to choose between one shitty thing and another shitty thing because it gives us the illusion that we are in fact free.  Which we are not.  Each and every one of us is enslaved by the monetary system.  And sure, you can choose to live outside of that system, off the grid, or just not allow these things to enter your consciousness.  But, they are still there.  Money is still there; sucking the joy from our lives and convincing us that it is the important thing.  When it isn't even a thing at all.  Think about it.  What does money do?  What is it good for?  Nothing. At. All.  It's just meaningless numbers on a screen or paper in a hand.  However, I think it's important to remember that every time we spend money, it's like placing a vote for the kind of world we want.  So next time you go for that upgrade or run to Wal-Mart for something or other that will fall apart in a week, remember that with your bucks you're communicating that you have no problem being a slave and will choose to support the system which enslaves you. 

"In my apartment, the home where I hide..."

One of the many joys of sitting quietly in my apartment is when my upstairs neighbor comes home and I get to listen to her (usually several minutes long) greetings and subsequent conversation with her Yorkie; Mr. Biggs.  It makes me want to know her.  Nothing else about this person has ever been appealing to me, but hearing her little dogs excitedly clicking nails on the wood floor and her high-pitched, squealing hellos as she walks in the door... I'd actually like to hug her.
Today she told him she had missed him and then went on to describe how cold it was outside as she put his leash on.  Then I heard them come down the stairs, go outside, her tell him good boy, her mail box opening, and her describing to Mr. Biggs what she found inside.
Maybe she can feel the mental hug I'm sending through my ceiling up into her floor.