Thursday, February 25, 2010

Ostrich Life

I am an ostrich. I love having my head in the sand. Some may say it's firmly lodged up my own arse, but I can't hear them. Sound doesn't travel well through the sand. Or through my ass for that matter.

If I can't see it happen, it doesn't. If I can't hear it, it doesn't exist. If no one tells me about it, I'm not troubled by it.

It can be anything. I once saw an HBO show that had a segment where you heard the sound of a couple having sex with a german shepherd (OMG!). The associated visual was a graphical representation of the sounds made by the man, the woman and the dog. People having sex with animals? Really? My mind reeled. This disgusted me on a level akin to the revulsion I feel when I hear about incidences of pedophelia. I have worked very hard to put the memory of that awful awakening of my innocence behind me.

It can also be racism. I work for a company that strives to be very diversity friendly. Sometimes it misses the mark, but the intent is there. Well, one of my dear friends, a beautiful Latina who was born in raised in New York City but has roots on the island of Puerto Rico - a territory of the United States by the way, experienced racism right in our office. One of her co-workers called her aside and showed her a drawing of an open umbrella and on the umbrella, he had written "Hispanic" and "Latino." Under the umbrella he had written Columbia, Mexico, Puerto Rico, El Salvador, Cuba. He asked her what the right terminology was for the various countries named under the umbrella. She answered him saying either is appropriate. He responded that he thought Latino was reserved for Mexicans and Hispanic was for everyone else. She patiently explained to him that it is a matter of personal preference and varies person to person. Mr. Sensitivity went on to state that he has a problem with Hispanics and now he finds himself working with a group that includes three of them. (Mind you - he's having this conversation with one of them.) Mi amiga was floored. She didn't know whether to walk away or knock the shit out of this idiot. She told me that she wasn't sure if she should be offended or not. This man is a college educated professional. I was offended. And I'm white as white can be. I have had my head in the sand regarding the fact that racism exists EVERYWHERE, including my politically correct office. And that people get away with their insensitive stupidity every single day.

It can be my child's deception about doing his homework. My kid is bright. His IQ is very respectable. In fifth grade, he had a teacher who excused him from doing homework because the teacher knew he was smart and was getting the material in class, so he didn't really need to do the supporting homework. This mindset has stuck with my little genius. This kid has all four years of his college education already paid in advance, but he could not care less. He still, 5 years later, refuses to consistently do his homework. I have grown weary of beating this dead horse. So, I pretend not to notice that he's not doing his homework. Then the grades come out and we have this little parent/child discipline dance that we do. I become upset, he becomes contrite. I yell, he apologizes. I take away privileges, he suffers for a little while. He earns a decent progress report and I give back the privileges. And the cycle begins again. Because I keep my head in the sand about his resistance to doing the right thing.

Yet in spite of my desire for blissful ignorance, I have developed an uncanny cynicism about things. I can read people and gauge their next move with surprising accuracy. I thrive on discovering what motivates people, good or bad. Maybe this exposure to the underbelly of humanity has caused me to develop this craving for the innocence and simplicity that goes with keeping my head in the sand. It's my crack. And I'll keep my head in it if I want too.


Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Me time

I've spent a lot of time vacationing in my own mind. It's a wondrous place with bucolic scenery in some corners and hectic, over crowded, dismal urban areas too. Lately, there's been little time to spend in my own head. Life intervenes. All I want is some time alone to explore where I am on the road between my ears.

Unfortunately, two kids, two dogs and a wonderful but clingy husband keep that from happening. I am truly never alone. And when I am, there is work to be done. Housework, school work, work work.

Then the guilt settles in. Quit yer bitchin. There's people who would kill to have your life. Kill to have your kids. Kill to have your husband. Kill to have your job. So what if I'm a fluffy, forty something. I am well preserved and reasonably mobile. My bills are paid and I have all my teeth, hair and digits.

But me time....I need me time.

I have grand designs on writing more. On exploring the roller coaster that goes on behind my eyes. On reading just for pleasure. I want a day with no real agenda. No interruptions. No obligations to care for the safety and well being of any other living being.

I guess I need to schedule it. Let's see - I think I can squeeze in a day in October 2020. Meanwhile, I'm gonna throw in a load of laundry, feed the dogs, check on the kids and go snuggle with my husband.