Archive for March, 2010


I’ve just read of Phoebe Prince, a 15-year-old student who hanged herself as a result of bullying by boys and girls.  This really affects me.  I was bullied in middle and high school.  This began at the private Christian school I attended, where other boys called me a fag, for no reason but my shyness around other students.  In the 7th grade, I went to a public school–but it was even worse there.  Other white boys relentlessly called me a fag, and black boys kicked me in the groin.  Again, this was for no reason, other than my shyness.  My family expected me to fight the white boys (they said not to fight the black ones because they’d gang-up on me, which might have been the case).  But I must admit it was the verbal bullying of the white boys that tortured me the most.  I even had to see therapists, just to assure me I wasn’t homosexual. 

And during this time I went into a serious depression.  The Queen song, “Bohemian Rhapsody”, was playing on the radio, and though it’s funny to me now, in a dark way–it was serious then.  I’d listen to it, and seriously consider committing suicide.  I was only 13.  At the Christian school, no adult ever intervened at all.  And the same was true of the public school.  I did admit my suicidal feelings to my mom, and she said the family would be really hurt if I killed myself.  And for all I know (I was extremely devoted to my family at the time), that might have saved me.  

Still, my parents should have intervened, the bus driver should have intervened, and the faculty should have intervened.  There are alot of adults who take bullying lightly.  They just consider it an innocent part of growing up.  But there’s nothing innocent about it.  There is no excuse for bullying–verbally, physically, or sexually.   And there is no excuse for allowing it, either.  Phoebe Prince is yet another casualty of teenage bullying– and especially of adult toleration of it!


As of 5:47 pm today, I am now 44 years old.  And (referring to FAR TO GO, March 24, 2009), I still have far to go!  The one thing I desire most is a loving, lasting relationship with a woman;  unfortunately that cannot be bought.  And it cannot be given as a gift, unless by the Creator.  Of course to be cured of my mental illness would be nice, too–but I’m not going to push it!

I don’t feel 44–more like 34, or even 24.  I think this is because I have such a youthful mind, but also because I have not had the life I should have had by now.  Popular psychology maintains that there are no shoulds in life–but there are.  Most of the psychologists, and laymen, who take that position already have what they should have–so their argument that there are no shoulds is invalid.

That said, it is true that life is difficult, for everyone–and that one has no choice but to accept the reality of his/her life.  I should have been born in 1866, or in a totally different culture than this one.  But for some reason, I’m in this time and place.  Is there a reason I’m here?  After all, I’ve never fit-in here.  Or am I just here by chance?  Only the Creator knows.

One thing is sure, though.  My life, to this point, has been an unhappy one–perhaps even tragic.  And presuming I live to be 88–I want the second half of my life to be much better!

Incidentally, this month also marks the twelfth year I’ve lived in this house.  And though I dislike Pensacola (as opposed to Mobile), I love having a house all to myself!  And I intend to stay here–unless I find a suitable house elsewhere.  I will never live in an apartment again–I’d rather live in a trailer!  I love having plenty of space between me and the neighbors.  And in an apartment–even a condominium–the neighbors are on the other side of the walls.  And I refuse to live like that again!  

Proofreading the above, I realize it sounds somewhat pitiful.  My Dad (who’s had a wonderful life, no reason to complain at all), says I’m having a pity-party whenever I go on like this.  And I can’t help but laugh–I can imagine Hallmark cards that read: “YOU’RE INVITED TO A PITY-PARTY!”  That cracks me up, even the term alone (one reason is that I love alliteration, and use it a great deal in my writing).  Jimmy Buffet sings, “If we couldn’t laugh, we just would go insane!”  Well, I’m already insane–but if I couldn’t laugh I would be even moreso!


I just read an article about monarch butterflies disappearing.  In the article, it was said one reason was that there were not nearly as many milkweed plants as before (which the monarchs eat).  I questioned that–didn’t seem to be any problem with the milkweed population.  Then I made an embarrassing discovery: the plants that grow rampant in my front yard, the plants with the parachutes you can blow all over the place, are not milkweed plants–they’re dandelions!  And I remembered a post of mine from May 2, 2009: A MOMENT OF REALIZATION, in which I expressed how much I enjoyed blowing the milkweed all over the place–watching the parachutes float to the ground.  That’s not milkweed–it’s dandelions!  If the kid in that “moment” would have called me a “nut”, rather than a “fag”–he’d have been quite accurate!  Who else would go to so much trouble to correct a mistake from a blog post written almost a year before?  That’s OCD at it’s best–I’m nothing if not a perfectionist!


Jessica and Chris’ baby, and my newborn great-niece, Olivia, is finally home again.  She hasn’t had any more seizures, and is doing well.  It does worry me that the cause of the seizures, for which she was hospitalized, remains unknown.  But at least she’s out of danger now.  I hope I’m not “upstaging” Jessica, in posting this.  But this has been a very difficult week for me, too.  And I hope the title of this post remains relevant–that Olivia stays well, and never has to endure such a crisis again.  Also, I know Jessica and Chris truly appreciate your prayers and good thoughts–and I appreciate them, as well!


I just found out last night that Olivia was having some trouble.  Jessica and Chris are with her at the hospital now.  I was so relieved that this birth had turned out well, and now I’m frustrated, worried, and a little angry with the Creator.  Yet the Creator is the only one to which I can pray, the only one upon which Olivia’s fate rests–so I’ve been praying quite a bit.  And I ask that you do the same, whatever your faith–and thank you, in advance.  And if you don’t pray, good thoughts will certainly be appreciated as well. 

Some of the worst illnesses have been ruled out, and two neurologists are working with Olivia, as I write this.  But it will be a few days before we know what’s going on.  Strange how in circumstances like this, family members bind together.  I don’t get along very well with my parents, my sisters, or my brothers-in-law–primarily because my beliefs are different, as well as my opinions.  Yet that’s unimportant right now, I’ve been communicating with them all regularly since last night, and we’re keeping each other posted.  We waited through this pregnancy–yet now we have to wait again.  It is up to the Creator–everything that happens to anyone is up to the Creator.  I even surmise that ultimately the Creator is all there is–that everything and everyone is simply an extension of the Creator.  Yet I digress–I must close now, and decide whether to post this.