The lesser demons of our nature

I find myself turning to Stoicism these days.

Denying emotional outbursts, accepting the things that we cannot control, approaching problems with a clear, rational mind, these are the basic guidelines of one who wishes to be a stoic.

Bear in mind, I still hold to my faith. I believe in the divinity of Christ and the life of the world to come. But, if I cannot control myself then what use am I to a diety?

As I write this is am grappling with frustration, anger and jealousy. But, I need to keep reminding myself that some things are out of my control. I cannot morally ask someone to deny themselves as if they were my slave. I would not want to be kept as a slave, so I will not suffer to keep one.

Hallow's Eve

Dressing up in costumes and collecting candy. How shallow are we that we can only associate a holiday by the activities we enjoy. Our "scientific" and empirical minds have completely dismissed the deeper purpose of such an observance.

My question is why even continue with the practice? Because it's fun?

If so, then we are as superficial and relevant as the leaves blowing on the fall winds, and we do not deserve to be accounted amongst the great societies of history.

A hurdle too far

"We would never have marched so far, to be food for the crows"

Sting -- Something the boy said

So, something came up today that may put my entire shot at graduating in jeopardy. I was told by my academic adviser that I am in need of a whole host of classes, including something called upper division themes. This is something I heard about for the first time today, and all my other counselors neglected to tell me about.

Financial aid refuses to fund me beyond Spring 11' so unless they change their minds I am as good as done. No sense in hanging on if I have no chance of graduating.

Such a miserable way to end up. Lost in the whirlwind of this system that seems to favor the young and elite.

Point break

People just keep pushing me and pushing me. Won't give me an ounce of compassion or a moments rest. People who say they love me yet don't want to show it.

I'm just so tired of the drama, the sadness and the angst.

Scholastic discontent

So, I am neck deep in my senior year at college. So far so good, I am keeping up with my classes and absorbing the material as I should.

However, I must be honest and say, I am a little discontented and disappointed. Three of my classes are taught by an instructor who is very knowledgeable in the material she presents, a veritable fount of information. However, it is not presented in a very interesting fashion. This professor tends to lecture tirelessly and asks for little input from the students. Then when she does, she sort of sets people up with trick questions. I have been left with the feeling that I don't want to say anything in class simply because I don't want to be made a fool of. So, I sit quietly, take notes, and daydream when possible.

This contrasts with another instructor that conducts his class as a seminar, meaning we all sit in a circle and talk openly about the material we are studying. We look for passages in the primary source documents and read them aloud, then we talk about the historical context and ramifications of the subject. I find myself eager to participate in class and put my two cents into the discussion.

This may come from how I learn, and what it really is that holds my interest in history. I am drawn to emerging thoughts, concepts and philosophies that change the course of the modern world. For instance, how individualism and intellectualism led to the American revolution. How natural law and capitalism led to the French revolution. How Stoicism influenced Roman thought and helped to shape Christianity.

In short, raw historic trivia only bores me, while the living element of the past electrifies me.

While I am on the subject of my instructors, I feel the need to say that I sense a general dislike, or distrust from them, towards me. It is a very subtle thing, but something that I have experienced many times. It is like they have stereotyped me, and do not know how to relate to me. Granted, I am the only 30something, Gen X'er in a class full of aspiring, young, and eager historians It is a bit lke they just don't want to waste time on getting to know me because I am not the typical student that they are used to. Perhaps something else is at work here, but it is a feeling I have experienced with almost all of the professors I have dealt with so far.

In other news, I am enjoying my time here in Chico, despite being away from my family. My roommate is an agreeable fellow, a young man that is mature beyond his years. He can be a bit morose sometimes, and is a tad moody, but overall I enjoy his company. However, I see in him the same kind of sickness I have in my own soul. That being the need to please everyone, and suffering with the notion that no one likes him. Like me, he tends to think way too much, and reads much more into a situation than is really there. I don't know how to help him with this condition. Perhaps it is best to just let the tide of maturity, and the wisdom that comes with age, wash away the angst of human relations.

More often than not, we are our own worst enemy.

An Angel in Chains

An Ode to my granddaughter;


Cruelly betrayed by the ones who love you. Your chains are proof that we do pay for the sins of our fathers.

The miracle of your life deserves to run free and wild like the foxes of the field. Yet, your fate is in the hands of heartless, soulless men who pass your innocence like a bargaining token at a gamblers table.

Perhaps in God's mercy you will live through all the suffering in your life at a time when you will not remember. It is my prayer that when at last these cruel chains are fallen away and you once again fly free into the open sky, that no storm, tempest, or cruel snare will ever again come before your deserving path.

Each day that passes with you in bondage is a day that is wasted. Your present condition is proof that there is no mercy, compassion or justice in this fallen world.

When will this insane and irrational dance of selfishness come to an end? When will the rights of the innocent to not be punished for the mistakes of others be realized? When will justice rule over us unstead of a cold and heartless system?

Take heart my child and know that these chains that hold you, bind us as well, that in our hearts we are with you in your lonely place. We will not know happiness, comfort or joy until you are in our arms once again.

Happy Birthday Evangeline

Overload

I'm having one of those extremely rare moments in my life where I feel the overwelming need to just get drunk.

I'm to the point where I can't deal with all the turmoil and stress I am feeling right now. Too many bad things happening all at once.

Of course, I won't be getting drunk. Alcoholism runs in my family and drinking would only make me violent and depressed.

So, I will have to find some other way to deal with this storm.

The Cult of Jeep

So, I bought a Jeep, a 1990 Jeep Wrangler to be exact.

I probably shouldn't have, but I spent $3800 of my school money on it. It's beat up and needs work, but it is beautiful to me. In it I don't see the faults, I see the potential. Nevertheless, it was a necessary expenditure given the fact that my wife is at home in the mountains and I am here at school in the valley. We both needed a vehicle.

So, why a Jeep? Well, I bought my first Jeep in 2002 and I loved it. However, we ended up not being able to afford the payments and I lost it. So, I swore one day that if I bought another car it would be a Jeep. Flimsy excuse don't you think? Well, I figure that if I am gonna spend the money anyway I might as well get something I want. Besides, I have been dreaming of going on 4x4 runs with my dad, and a Jeep is the best way to do that. Two birds with one stone.

So, another "perk" if you will of owning a Jeep is that you instantly become a member of the elite Cult of Jeep. Your "tithe", if you will, is looking out for, and waving to anyone that is driving another Jeep down the road. Silly I guess, but it's nice to share a bit of distant comraderie with like minded people.

My last bit of musing on this subject is that I kind of feel that this vehicle has set me free in some ways. This past summer was spent mostly at home because we couldn't afford to go anywhere. Even a theraputic drive in the country is difficult at best when consideration is given to wether the family vehicle is needed for some other purpose at that particular time.

Anyway, for better or worse, and regardless of what the world may think, I have my own car now. Huzzah for personal liberty.

Old nightmares

How can old wounds ever heal when they get ripped open so often?

Yesterday my oldest daugther came to the house with cuts and bruises all over her body. She got into a knock down, drag out fistfight with her boyfriend. Naturally, as a father, I went down to confront him on this and saw that he was injured as badly as she was. So, I did the only thing that I could conceive that was right, I called the police and reported a domestic violence.

Bear in mind, this was done solely to protect my grand daughter, who witnessed the entire fight.

Well, the police arrived and took statements and collected evidence as I expected they would. We kept Angel safely at our house because we expected that someone was going to be arrested and she didnt need to be around for that.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Child Protective Services showed up at our home to collect my grand daughter. I spoke to the social worker and the officers and they said that methanphetamine had been found at the apartment and they were worried that Angel may have been exposed to it. They wanted to take her under the auspice that she needed to be tested.

I told the worker that we were the only real family that Angel ever knew, and that she spent 90% of her time at our house anyway. She eats, and often sleeps with us, she is practically a permanent feature in our house. She told me that Angel would likely be released to our care. So, I had to convice my younger daughters to cooperate, all of whom have been practically mothers to her, never have I seen a better example of aunthood in my life. They reluctantly gave up Angel to the "authorities". As a side note, they all had briefly been through the foster care system, and bear emotional scars from it.

So, they take my grandchild, and remarkably they do not arrest either of her parents for what they did. Despite the fact that they both tested positive for meth, and that neither one of them would admit that they owned the drugs.

I spent the rest of the day calling the social worker without a response. Finally, I got to talk to her at the end of the day and she tells me that Angel won't be coming to us because of our prior record(see Spring 2006 of this journal for more information).

My oldest started doing drugs while in CPS custody. She was taken there because she rebelled against us and I swatted her with the belt. Ends up, she set us up by coaxing me to spank her because she got the bright idea from one of her friends in foster care that she could have all the freedom she wanted if she got pulled out of our home by CPS.

Let me be clear to those of you who might think that I am not owning up to my culpability in this matter. It IS legal to spank your child in California. A red whelp across her ass was used as a sign of "injury" in order to carry out the perogative of Child Protective Services. Whatever you think of the act of spanking is entirely irrelevant when you consider that I was acting within the scope of the law, and with the best intentions to maintain disciplne and to correct the unruly behavior of my daughter. She was never injured or in any danger. We are not a violent household, and any kind of insobriety is not tolerated or induged in ever. As I said before, it was only after she was taken from us, and allowed to act out her wanton desires that she became addicted to drugs.

So, in short CPS created this monster, and they are perpetuating this disaster by holding our grand daughter from us. Like a mindless, souless machine they grind on, chewing up victims in order to justify their own existence.

An old nightmare rearing its ugly head to be relived by undeserving people.

The labor of patience

This has been a pretty crappy summer... again! No money, no prospects for a job. Nothing really to do but wallow in the heat. We missed both the carnivale and the county fair this year due to being broke. We went camping once at our family reunion.

Now, as I end the summer of our discontent I am faced with a new challenge. My financial aid at Chico State is being held up because of nothing but pure, unrefined bureaucratic red tape. So much so that my semester is in jeopardy because of it.

Basically, I signed up for summer classes but couldn't take them because my tuition was short about $250. So I thought I dropped them but it ends up the computer didn't drop me, so mid-semester I had to call admissions and have them drop me manually. Then financial aid put a hold on my disbursement because I was over units from a bunch of crap classes I took back in Community College. So, I took our last bit of money and drove to Chico to deal with everyone face to face. Thinking I resolved it all I came home expecting some money this week. Ends up the school is claiming I owe them money from the summer semester that I dropped, $322 to be exact. So, now they want me to pay that before they will give me money.

They want me to pay them cash that I don't have in order to get cash that I desperatly need.

On top of that, the soonest I will get money is almost a week after school starts. So, I have to hitchhike to Chico and live under a bridge while I go to classes before I can have money for my books, supplies, an apartment, and transportation.

So, for all my hard work, getting good grades, turning in quality work, and contributing to the learning environment in a positive way I get kicked in the teeth and treated like a slacker. All because a bunch of bureaucrats want me to satisfy their petty wishes.

Sometimes I wonder if life is worth living and if the pain and suffering of the daily grind will ever get any of us anywhere.

Death of a Caveman

From IdahoStatesman.com by Tim Woodward

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Known as the "Salmon River Caveman," Richard Zimmerman lived an essentially 19th century lifestyle, a digital-age anachronism who never owned a telephone or a television and lived almost entirely off the land.

"He was in his home at the caves at the end, and it was his wish to die there," said Connie Fitte, who lived across the river. "He was the epitome of the free spirit."

Richard Zimmerman had been in declining health when he died Wednesday.

Few knew him by his given name. To friends and visitors to his jumble of cave-like homes scrabbled from a rocky shoulder of the Salmon River, he was Dugout Dick.

He was the last of Idaho's river-canyon loners that date back to Territorial days. They are a unique group that until the 1980s included canyon contemporaries with names like Beaver Dick, Cougar Dave and Wheelbarrow Annie, "Buckskin Bill" (real name Sylvan Hart) and "Free Press Frances" Wisner. Fiercely independent loners, they lived eccentric lives on their own terms and made the state more interesting just by being here.

Most, like Zimmerman, came from someplace else. Drawn by Idaho's remoteness and wild places removed from social pressures, they came and spent their lives here, leaving only in death.

Some became reluctant celebrities, interviewed about their unusual lifestyles and courted by media heavyweights. Zimmerman was featured in National Geographic magazine and spurned repeated invitations to appear on the "Tonight Show."

"I ride Greyhounds, not airplanes," he said in a 1993 Statesman interview. "Besides, the show isn't in California. The show is here."

Cort Conley, who included Zimmerman in his 1994 book "Idaho Loners", said that "like Thoreau, he often must have smiled at how much he didn't need. É What gave him uncommon grace and dignity for me were his spiritual life, his musical artistry, his unperturbed acceptance of life as it is, and being a WWII veteran who had served his country and harbored no expectations in return."

His metamorphisis to Dugout Dick began when he crossed a wooden bridge over the Salmon River in 1947 and built a makeshift home on the side of a hill. He spent the rest of his life there, fashioning one cavelike dwelling after another, furnishing them with castoff doors, car windows, old tires and other leavings.

"I have everything here," he said. "I got lots of rocks and rubber tires. I have plenty of straw and fruit and vegetables, my dog and my cats and my guitars. I make wine to cook with. There's nothing I really need."

Some of his caves were 60 feet deep. Though he "never meant to build an apartment house," he earned spending money by renting them for $2 a night. Some renters spent one night; others chose the $25 monthly rate and stayed for months or years.

He lived in a cave by choice. Moved by a friend to a care center in Salmon at age 93 because he was in failing health, he walked out and hitchhiked home.

Bruce Long, who rented one of his caves and looked after him, said the care center "had bingo and TV, but things like that held no interest for him. He just wanted to live in his cave.

"People said he was the only person they'd ever known who was absolutely self-sufficient. He didn't work for anybody. He worked for himself."

Born in Indiana in 1916, Zimmerman grew up on farms in Indiana and Michigan, the son of a moonshiner with a mean streak. He rebelled against his domineering father and ran away at a young age, riding the rails west and learning the hobo songs he later would play on a battered guitar for guests at his caves.

He punched cows and worked as a farmhand, settling in Idaho's Lemhi Valley in 1937 and making ends meet by cutting firewood and herding sheep. In 1942, he joined the Army and served as a truck driver in the Pacific during World War II. When his service ended, he returned to Idaho and never left.

He raised goats and chickens, tended a bountiful vegetable garden and orchard and stored what he couldn't eat or sell in a root cellar. A lifelong victim of a quarrelsome stomach, he survived largely on what he could grow or make. Homemade yogurt ranked among his proudest achievements.

He was married once, briefly, to a pen-pal bride from Mexico. The other woman in his life, Bonnie Trositt, tired of life in a cave, left him for a job as a potato sorter and was murdered by her roommate. He claimed to see her spirit in the flickering light of a kerosene lamp on the cave walls.

He rarely went to church, but read and quoted continually from the Bible.

Services are pending. A brother, Raymond Zimmerman, has requested that his remains be sent to Illinois.

Tim Woodward: 377-6409

When you are the villain...

Imagine that you live in a society where you are the villain. Now, you haven't done anything wrong, in fact you have worked hard all your life, tended your responsibilities, and stayed out of trouble. But, when you watch TV most of the bad people look like you do. When you hear people talk about undesirable physical traits, you find that you possess them all. When you approach people you see a glimmer of fear and loathing in their eyes.

It is the same way that Jews are treated throughout Europe and the Middle East, it's the same way that blacks are treated in parts of this country. It's the same way that the Native Americans are treated.

We fool outselves and say that we are somehow a progressed society that has moved beyond superstition and fear. Yet we are the same idiotic, hateful, fearful, and belligerant apes we have always been. Nothing has changed in these past 4000 years, the only difference is now we have Ipods.

God help us.

A cup of tea

Lately, I have been pondering the growing right wing movement calling themselves the Teaparty. Here in North California we have a very strong vein of conservative people, Ranchers, loggers, farmers, etc etc. I respect their hard work and dedication to their community. However, I do not like their politics or how they go about debating their points. They tend to shout people down and use bullying tactics to make their point about any particular topic they feel strongly about.

As I have seen across the board, both the Teapartiers and the Republican movement like to imply that those who share their views are both patriotic and "good Christians". Anyone who does not are simply communists. Any student of history knows that these same tactics of demonizing the opposition were employed by the most fascist, and totalitarian regimes the past has ever seen. Never have they been used to positive effect to bring a group together for constructive discourse.

Today, I came across an article on Yahoo regarding a plan by the foes of the teaparty movement to infiltrate their rallies and "dismantle the political group by trying to make its members appear to be racist, homophobic and moronic". Now, I must admit that I considered volunteering for this effort. The vindictive person in me would love to be part of a counter-political activity. However, I realized that doing such a thing would be counter-productive to what I want to see in American society, that being an honest and informed debate over the FACTS of our political issues.

So, I have been considering writing an article detailing our failure to do the one thing that Americans are renowned for, sitting down and rationally finding a compromise to our problems. However, at the end of the Yahoo article I found an excellent criticism of the Teaparty movement written by a man calling himself William C. Now, he uses a derogatory term throughout his article for the Teapartiers that I don't promote. But, the core of his argument is sound, and that's why I am re posting it. Here is the text of that post, enjoy;
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Separating The Contenders From The Pretenders by William C.

Teabaggers are a misinformed, right-wing corporate media consumer who often fails to understand that BOTH major parties represent a corrupt plutocracy that steals from the middle class by taxing labor and profiting from corporate tax subsidies.

A teabagger also often fails to acknowledge that George W. Bush and his neo-conservative minions perpetrated one of the boldest and most egregious executive power grabs in the history of the United States. Furthermore, teabaggers mistakenly continue to blame a newly elected President Obama for all that ails the United States of America, based on a grossly flawed perception of reality (including latent racial prejudice) and despite the fact the U.S. economy collapsed on the previous administration's watch.

Teabaggers are also known to base their misguided, right-wing-media-inspired beliefs about President Obama on stupid conspiracy theories about totalitarian takeovers, FEMA camps, etc., despite the fact these very same theories have been circulating around on the Internet for years, and were originally ascribed to neo-conservative cabalists at a time when Barack Obama had not even entered national politics. Teabaggers also are known to be particularly paranoid, xenophobic and intolerant, especially with regard to immigrants and anyone who isn't white.

Additionally, teabaggers generally echo stupid myths about entitlement spending (it actually only accounts for about 1% of federal budget spending), have no idea that most poor people in America are not lazy, actually do work and don't want to be on welfare, and have no idea what socialism actually means or that socialist reform in this country is actually what allowed a middle class to flourish and ultimately make the U.S. one of the most prosperous nations in human history.

Furthermore, teabaggers incorrectly equate socialism with Stalinism, think a system that rewards greed (capitalism) is the divine preference (despite Gospel evidence to the contrary), and are shameless champions of a misguided belief in American exceptionalism. Teabaggers also fail to recognize the inherently unpatriotic nature of their failed every-man-for-himself ideology that ultimately vilifies anyone who supports public policy aimed at reaching out to fellow Americans in need. They celebrate an exploitative corporatocracy (holy creator of jobs, blah blah blah) while denigrating the little guy for being "weak."

Interestingly, teabaggers uphold an immoral, morbidly obese, twice divorced, draft-dodging, college dropout and known drug addict as their de facto leader, and are even known to advocate burning books. Of course, teabaggers fail to recognize the blatant hypocrisy within the GOP and tend to oversimplify all political debate and social issues, much like their pseudo-intellectual, fat-ass leader.

Finally, incredibly, teabaggers fail to recognize the hysterical double entendre associated with their proudly adopted teabag moniker.

Every village has its idiots, of course, but it's sad when citizens of any nation allow themselves to be whipped into a frenzy en masse by a state-run propaganda machine masquerading as a legitimate, fair, balanced and independent news organization. Teabaggers are right to believe the future of the U.S.A. is in jeopardy, but sadly they have not yet correctly identified the real enemy. Perhaps when teabaggers finally grow up and mature into thinking adults, they will see the right-leaning power establishment for the oppressive and cunning beast that it is.

Teabagger: We don't care that George Bush tripled the deficit and lied us into a war. The new administration only cut taxes for 90% of the population... fascists. Let's go throw some Lipton tea bags into a fountain!

Trampling down death by death

Happy Easter/Pascha everyone. "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death and on those in the tombs bestowing life."

How Capitalism will destroy the drug culture

There's a change a comin!!

So, this past week it was announced that Californian's will be getting the chance to vote on a measure to legalize marijuana for recreational use. Under the proposed law, every individual will have the right to possess an ounce of pot and will be allowed to grow and harvest a small amount.

Already, the sides are being drawn politically and strange new associations are being formed to make their opinion known.

So, I have been outspoken in the past over my disdain for this drug, it should be a no-brainer where I will vote.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Do not underestimate the power of cynicism.

I my friends heartily support this measure. I say what the hell, make it legal!!

But what about the negative effects of this drug on families? What about the emotional abuse you suffered as a child? Why would you want this on a new generation?

Well... it's like this.

Legalizing this crap will destroy it. It will answer the pot heads I argue with once and for all that this is a benign substance.

How will that happen? Capitalism. Thats right, free market economics will solve our problems.

You see, the major tobacco companies are already poised to produce marijuana cigarettes for the masses. Any student of economic procedure knows that you produce a quality product at a low price in order to stimulate sales and generate customer loyalty. Then, once you have cornered the market, you raise the price, lower the quality, and increase the addictive nature of your product. Soon, it will be cheaper and easier to just by a pack of joints at the local liquor store.

It is only then, having seen their beloved weed turned into a smartly wrapped and merchandised product of the free world will they realize that they were better off smoking in the closet.

Problem solved

A hero in the face of materialist consumerism

So, I was talking to my mother-in-law the other day about how great it would be to win the lottery. She of course said that she would buy all the usual things that the poor dream that wealth will bring them. Then, I replied that I would pay all my bills and give the rest to charity.

She told me she thought I was crazy.

The truth is that I consider myself wealthy. I have good, healthy children. I have lived long enough to see my grandchildren. I am going to school and doing what I want to in life. Money would only complicate those things. I fear that I would have all manner of people come out of the woodwork asking for things. I would see people that normally wouldn't give me the time of day being nice to me. In time, I would wonder if anyone is genuine.

At least now I know that the friends in my life are here because they enjoy my company, instead of what I can give them.

But, I won't go into the fair weather friends speech again. Everyone knows how I feel about that.

On this topic, I found this article today...
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Money Can't Buy Happiness, So Man Gives Away Every Penny of His £3 Million Fortune

By Alex in Money & Finance on Feb 10, 2010 at 2:05 am

Karl Rabeder grew up poor and thought that life would be wonderful if he had money. But when he got rich, Karl discovered that he was unhappy … so he decided to give away every penny of his £3 million fortune:

"My idea is to have nothing left. Absolutely nothing," he told The Daily Telegraph. "Money is counterproductive – it prevents happiness to come."

Instead, he will move out of his luxury Alpine retreat into a small wooden hut in the mountains or a simple bedsit in Innsbruck.

His entire proceeds are going to charities he set up in Central and Latin America, but he will not even take a salary from these.

"For a long time I believed that more wealth and luxury automatically meant more happiness," he said. "I come from a very poor family where the rules were to work more to achieve more material things, and I applied this for many years," said Mr Rabeder.

But over time, he had another, conflicting feeling.

"More and more I heard the words: ‘Stop what you are doing now – all this luxury and consumerism – and start your real life’," he said. "I had the feeling I was working as a slave for things that I did not wish for or need. I have the feeling that there are lot of people doing the same thing."
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hahaha!! Then again maybe I do want to become rich so that I can do the same thing as Mr Rabeder and watch every ones jaw hit the floor. Kudos to you Karl, you are my hero of the month.