Should’ve been a detective

I’m the sort of person who gives others the benefit of the doubt – oftentimes to a fault. This happened to be the case yesterday when my 11-year-old daughter frantically told me about a man in our apartment building who offered her a free computer if she came by his place to get it. He’s just being nice, I thought. And that very well could have been the case. But when we saw him only moments later in the parking lot, he didn’t say a word to me – and that’s when the red flags started going up. So I did what any level-headed thinking parent would do and pulled up the registered sex offender website – only to find a newly added tenant in our building previously convicted of aggravated sexual assault – TWICE.

The thing is, this person looked nothing like the man in question, nor did he live in the same apartment. So the next logical step seemed to call the police about the first incident and hang on to question the apartment complex about the second. Regardless, two potential sexual predators in one building wasn’t sitting very well on my stomach at that point.

The police came out and took my daughter’s statement, filed a “suspicious person” report, and I followed up this morning with the detective assigned to the case. His run of the man’s plates returned only a minor infraction back in the 80’s and nothing else. His thought was the same as my initial one – that the man was just trying to be nice. All well and good, we both agreed, but the officer said he would contact the man directly and suggest that he not approach children like that; that those matters are more appropriately suited for parents. I have to admit that I’m still torn between benefit and doubt on this one.

On to the second issue – that of the registered sex offender currently moving in above my neighbor – also a single mom of 2 young girls. I called her first thing this morning to discuss what I found out and after she had a chance to process it, was through the roof livid. Sidenote: I understand the overuse of the sex offender status these days, but keep in mind that this guy has two counts of aggravated sexual assault. Our first question was, of course, how in the hell did the apartment manager let this happen?

Their answer? “He isn’t living here.”

Maybe in your paperwork he isn’t, but someone on his case shows that he is – and that he moved in at the same time as the current occupant. Their initial reaction had me somewhat floored – that typical hands off, defensive approach that business managers just love to take. However, my neighbor and I weren’t budging and it wasn’t until they pulled out the lease of the new tenant to show us that the two men weren’t the same, that we found a connection between the two. The current tenant’s former address was in the same city as the parolee’s former address. And we’re not talking about a big city like Houston either. Too much of a coincidence to pass up, I would say.

So the game plan is to find out from APD (the detective from the previous case) how the two were related and if, indeed, the man was planning to live there. And if so, the new tenant would be have to leave within 24 hours for failing to list all occupants. All I can say is, I’m glad they’re taking this seriously.

And…

I wonder how many other apartment communities have unlisted sexual predators living within their walls.

Word of the Day

hypocrisy |hiˈpäkrisē|
noun ( pl. -sies)
the practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one’s own behavior does not conform; pretense.

I saw the following bumper sticker yesterday: “I’ll respect your president, even though you didn’t respect mine.” That’s a nice attempt at a jab, but there’s one fundamental problem in that statement: the word “your”.

The day “inspiration” died.

Set aside your political affiliations for just a moment and think about what transpired today. First, think about how you heard. I’m willing to bet that for most of you it came in the form of a Facebook status update. If not, then through the mouths of your preferred news commentator. Or perhaps a friend. Or even a co-worker. In my case, it came in the form of a status update; a somewhat scathing analysis of the event (Obama’s receipt of the Nobel Peace Prize for those living under a rock). Regardless of your particular source for this information, there’s no doubt that it came with some degree of analysis from the person giving it. Whether it was from the friend who was criticizing, or the commentator with just enough vocal inflection or facial expression to instill doubt in you, or the headline with enough subtleness to do the same, you were left once again questioning the legitimacy of something positive.

Think on that, would you? Once again we’ve found ourselves in a position of questioning the legitimacy of something positive. Why is that? Is it because there’s nothing else to complain about? Are we so angry that we’ve elected (don’t forget that one very important detail) a president who can only be faulted for inspiring people the world over? I find it truly remarkable that people are spewing angry words over something they probably haven’t given two shits about in previous years. I challenge anyone in critical mode to name the past 5 Nobel Peace Prize winners and why they were chosen. Why this? Why now? Because it’s what everyone else is doing? Because it’s easier to hate the man than to accept the fact that he single-handedly inspired a new generation of voters to get involved in government? Or that he understands that there are problems in this country and this world that no one else seems to be paying attention to?

So, we’re just going to chastise our president because someone saw something promising in him. Why not be proud of the fact that a group of distinguished folks in another part of the world were so inspired by OUR leader to recognize him for not only his ability to inspire, but in the promise that he can do good things? Seriously, put aside your desire to knock the man down a notch and realize how ludicrous it is to question something so wonderful.

Devil’s Advocate: Let’s say he wasn’t deserving of the prize. Hell, let’s say he wasn’t even deserving of the presidency. The reality is, the people in charge of awarding both… do feel that way.

Even as I type, I can’t even believe this is being debated. We’re not talking about an abuse of power, or committing a crime, or even adultery for that matter. This is our president receiving one of the highest honors imaginable. Again… our president. Sure, I had issues with the last president, but I would never have chastised him for something like this. If President Bush wanted to speak to our children about the benefits of staying in school or if he received such a dignified prize, I would have cheered the man on. Because in my heart I’d have known he was making a difference.

So why the anger? Why so much disdain over some pretty remarkable accomplishments?

I’ll tell you. It’s easy to sit at your computer and read what someone else has written, add a little fuel to the fire yourself and then sit back, and watch while everyone around you erupts in passion – passion without one bit of regard for what is being said or the implications of the words. We read what someone else has written and feel so intensely that we need to spread the words like wildfire until the issue becomes so big no one can really say what they are arguing about anymore. You know the case – when you and a friend or loved one get into an argument and you don’t even think before you speak until the argument turns into something completely different from what it started out being.

Folks, this isn’t about Obama’s deservedness. This is about fear of the unknown. This is about anger over having lost. This is about frustration about where our country currently sits financially. The problems of this country were here long before Obama, or Bush for that matter. And frankly, petty bickering over whether or not our president deserves the Nobel Peace Prize is a symptom of a much greater problem. One that I hope for my kids’ sake, we can nip in the bud soon.

My suggestion? Think before you speak. Research before you judge. Don’t assume. Seek. Learn. But most importantly, think for yourself.

Wield the Pen

New title.  New purpose.  Same me.  As is the case with most things in life, they branch out and take different shapes.  They evolve and grow.  They find renewed purpose and strive for full potential.  And here we are.

I’ve been called a lot of things in life.  For the most part I’ve been able to shrug the less appealing words off and laugh.  But when it’s relative to my passion and enthusiasm, I typically take it to heart.  I’ve been told on a few occasions to ignore that which riles me up; that to respond is to lower myself to a particular level.  It is from this perspective that references to my passionate character caught me off guard.  Temper yourself.  Fade into the background.  Don’t rock the boat.

But as much as I’ve tried to suppress that part of me at times – to feel ashamed about the fact that I am at my best when I’m passionate and wholehearted – to fit into the prescribed mold of a quiet and meek little lady – it’s not in my makeup.  Nor do I want it to be.  I was born to a woman that exudes more passion than anyone I have ever met.  And while that used to bother the fuck out of me, I am quickly finding that it is her passion for life – her enthusiasm about all that surrounds her – which I am proud to have acquired.

And as much as the suggestion to suppress my gift felt like the right thing at times, I am more convinced now that it is not.  Why?  Because when I look back on my writing – the times when I was most passionate – the times when the message within the words was coming from that side of me – were the times when most people were engaged.  My ex-husband used to tell me that he found it sexy when I got all worked up about something.  And for the longest time I resented him for that.  I hated the fact that he could sit there and be aroused by my rants and raves.  I guess I felt like he was taking advantage of (what I thought was) my vulnerability.  I see now that it is my strength.

I’ve spent way too much time thinking that what lies within me isn’t worthwhile or doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.  It is in your responses that I know it is more than appropriate and more than necessary.  I received a message from a dear friend the other day thanking me for my voice.  It was in it that she decided not to sit back and let someone walk all over her.  So…would you have asked me to quiet down then?  Knowing that my voice prevented someone from being taken advantage of?  I think not.

As for political rants?  This is the area where I catch the most grief.  I received an email from a friend today suggesting that the appropriate way to respond to people who ignore the facts is to ignore them.  “Let them eat themselves alive” for lack of a better phrase.  I have heard this from so many different angles that it’s actually started to unnerve me.  Sure, silence is golden.  But think about where it has gotten us.

I believe the reason why we are where we are today is because people who base their principles on facts stood silent while a louder voice emerged from those who replace facts with religious dogma.  Remember the wave of political correctness that blanketed this nation not long ago?  Liberal-minded people were at the heart of that and I’m quite sure that their fortification didn’t quit when it came to fundamentalist Christians.  Hell, it’s still a subject that not many have the guts to throw in front of a bus.  I understand the value of ignoring a bully, but I don’t think it applies in this case.  The reality is, we are dealing with people who will bulldoze the rest of us if we don’t take a stand.  How do you think people like Rush Limbaugh reached the level of esteem that he has?  Because all of the “don’t rock the boat” liberals were afraid to say “no”!

Now is not the time for silence, folks.  But it’s not the time for uncontrolled resistance, either.  What the levelheaded community needs is to do what it does so well: Organize peacefully.  Share words.  Share stories.  Share ideas.  Engage.  Commit.  Empathize.  Comfort.  Understand.  Help.  Act.  But most importantly, to reclaim this country and restore its principles: “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

All that said, I embrace that part of me which a friend so fondly titled “Angry Jessica”.  I won’t back down.  I won’t fade into the background.  I have a voice.  Deal with it.

(Title from Kewal – always in my corner.)

Not fear. Not greed. Not jealousy.

All too often I find myself needing to write, but with no clear purpose when the first words are laid down. Now is one of those times. It’s as if something subconscious is driving me and the only way to dig it out is to sit and let the fingers do their work. I suppose it’s the same for abstract painters – it just happens. And I have to admit that those are the art pieces that I admire the most – because they speak to something deep and hidden. Uncharted territory.

It’s easy to create when the inspiration is there. Difficult when the voice is muted and insecure.

My nickname in high school was “cramps”. The most obvious reason for this is that is rhymed with my last name at the time, which was “Stamps”. But I often wondered what secondary reason people had for calling me that. I asked one of the original creators of said nickname why it was so and he said “because you’re so moody”. Moody? Aren’t all adolescents moody? The bright side, though, is that it could have been much worse.

More recently, I’ve been referred to as “Angry Jessica”. Now, I realize that this and the previous references were all made in jest, and I know why that is the case. For one, I feel deeply, and when I write or make a public statement (read: Facebook status update), they tend to be about something that has either crawled under my skin or plucked at my heart strings. I’m not one to write about something that doesn’t serve some sort of purpose, like what I ate for breakfast or my mood at the moment. My intention with writing anything is to provoke thought. So what might seem like a vague or cryptic message, is more of an initiation to thought. In a world of shallow interaction, “reality” television, and political commentaries, individual thought is more important than ever.

I was speaking to my mom yesterday about healthcare reform. My initial call to her was about my concern that Morgan is on the verge of being diagnosed with something that will undoubtedly affect her for the rest of her life, and I’m worried that once I’m in a permanent job with full benefits, that her “condition” will be considered pre-existing. Almost immediately, she said “fuck it”. Yes, you read that right. Then she went into a long tirade about how absolutely fucked our healthcare system is, with numerous examples of how it has affected her and some of her patients. “And about your $20K hospital bill? Fuck that, too!” she said.

Then the conversation turned to the opposition.

How on earth can anyone not understand the need for reform? Why on earth are people so fired up about the government stepping in and doing something about what is nothing short of a crisis? Here’s the answer: It hasn’t affected them yet.

The United States, more than any country I suspect, has fallen so deeply into its individualist nature that we’re quickly forgetting the meaning and significance of altruism. Let me refresh your memory, in the event that this word has escaped your vocabulary bank.

al•tru•ism (ˈal-trü-ˌi-zəm) : unselfish regard for or devotion to the welfare of others.

We sit in our comfy homes in front of our big-screen televisions and shut the blinds to the outside world. For the longest time, these blinders were strategically placed in front of other lands – people from other countries. Famine is their problem, not mine. Genocide? It’s not my family being slaughtered, so why bother? Walking miles in the desert for a few gallons of semi-clean water? Got Dasani?

Now, I’m not trying to draw a comparison between these problems and that of healthcare. I know there is a huge divide between the level of crisis in both. But what I am hoping to point out is the growing trend in Americans to turn a deaf ear on what is happening in their own neighborhoods. These aren’t crack whores and drug dealers we’re talking about here. These are your neighbors, your children’s friends in school, your fellow PTA members, your fellow Americans. I implore you: stop listening to your radio shows and political commentators and start listening to the people standing right next to you. They are reality. They can tell you what it’s really like.

I had an argument not long ago with a family member of mine about the healthcare issue and his stance was the same as most on the opposition. You’ve heard it before. It’s typical party-line bullshit. “I’m not going to pay for some lazy son of a bitch to go see a doctor.” Wow. The whole “one bad apple” point of view, eh? Try this on for size: You are one illness or one job away from being in the same shoes as all of these “lazy sons of bitches” my friend. That’s all it takes. God forbid one of your children comes down with something that your insurance company decides (because it can at this point) that it won’t cover. Or God forbid you get laid off with the other millions of people and are left without even the promise of healthcare.

Listen to those around you. Stop ignoring what is so blatantly obvious just because it’s being brought up by someone who doesn’t share your ideologies. I hate to think that we’ve come to a point where people have to experience hell before they see the whole picture. Turn off your televisions. Turn off your radios. Talk to your friends and loved ones. Understand. Empathize. Have a heart. Act.

(Title from “Nothing Gonna Take my Love” by Wendy Colonna)

Wear the sole right through

I’ve officially become the poster child for healthcare reform. One of many, I’m sure, but one who isn’t going to sit back and let ignorance hog the mic. There’s this old saying that has something to do with walking in someone else’s shoes. If it weren’t for the crushing numbness which has overtaken me right in this moment, I’d probably be able to spout it word-for-word. But I take it if you’re reading, then you’ve probably figured it out.

Shall I begin with the $18,995 hospital bill that arrived in the mail today? While your jaw is lying on the floor at the moment, might want to keep it there long enough to also come to grips with the fact that said bill is for a 24-hour stay only. It doesn’t include all the bills from specialists which have been pouring in over the past few months. Still, they pale in comparison to the one which I now lay my eyes upon.

Needless to say, I called the hospital to first make sure that the amount I was reading was correct. “Yes, ma’am, that is the full amount due…accounting for the $100 that you paid when you were released.” I then asked what the status of my financial aid application was and she quickly noted that I don’t qualify. When I asked if there was a way to appeal that decision, she said they don’t process appeals for financial aid.

“So what are my options for repayment?” I asked.

“Well, we require the full amount paid within 12 months, which would mean you’d have to pay $1,500 a month,” she said.

My response – after a moment of dead silence – was basically that there was no way in the world I could afford that and I would have to make other arrangements.

Let us pause for a moment. Could you afford that? I’m willing to bet that 99% of you couldn’t. Hell, I could buy a sweet ride or live in an appropriate sized house for that amount.

Your next question is likely going to be, “Jessica, aren’t you insured?” To which I’ll reply, “No, I can’t afford private insurance.” And you’ll say (if you believe in this approach), “What about government assistance?” To which I’ll reply, “I make too much money for government assistance.”

There. Do you get it now? Can you even fathom being in such a position? Probably not. And if you do, I’m certain you’re fighting the same fight I am. I’d never wish ill will on anyone, but I often wonder if those who aren’t truly altruistic can sleep at night.

You ask: “But what about all those lazy-asses who suck off the government tit year after year?”

Yes. I know. But as with any moral question, would you deny helping someone who really needs it because of those who abuse the system?

A snapshot of my life: I live within my means. My wardrobe is basic. My car is old and paid for. We rarely eat out. The kids’ clothes are mostly hand-me-downs or gifts. I don’t get to take my animals to the vet as much as I’d like. Birthdays and Christmas aren’t overblown. Even groceries are minimal. I’ve been working mostly part-time jobs for the past few years in order to get through school. I’m currently doing the same and working to get my teaching certificate. I don’t have unreal expectations for making it big and I certainly don’t look for anyone to pay my way (read: gold digger). I pay my taxes. I go to the polls. I was born and raised in the United States. I am a single mom who gets barely enough child support to buy groceries. And I spend as much time as humanly possible with my girlies (save for when I need a night out or when I’m feverish and need to write – both of which have currently taken over).

Now…

Tell me how you want to deny me coverage.

Title from “Does it Satisfy” by the lovely and talented Wendy Colonna.

The day “stay in school” became a point of debate

I first learned about the latest “issue” with Obama when I was out with friends on Friday night.  I got a call from a teacher friend of mine telling me that her school district was sending home permission slips for children to view (or not) the President’s address to them on Tuesday.  Granted, I was in no position then to have a talk with her about the specifics and didn’t get a chance to become filled in entirely until yesterday.

The first bit of info I received was that a firestorm of media coverage seems to have led to the decision of many schools to make this an issue.  I have to admit that when I first heard about it, I was a bit irritated that it was an issue.  My thought was, we’re not in the middle of a presidential campaign anymore.  This is OUR duly elected president we’re talking about here.  So I figured there was something about his intended message that I was missing.  There had to be some other reason for the controversy, right?  What could possibly have so many people riled up about an address to children?

When I found out that the address would concern the importance of staying in school – the importance of getting an education – I was even more baffled about the controversy.  Really?  We’re all hot and bothered that OUR president wants to encourage OUR children to stay in school?  We’re not talking about a heated political divide here.  This isn’t abortion or gay rights or healthcare reform.  This is something we all agree on (or at least I hope we do).  Since when did the message “stay in school” become a point of contention?

I tried to play devil’s advocate and consider the fact that schools are just trying to give an option and inform parents about their intentions with regard to the address.  It wasn’t until I read the statement on the Bastrop Independent School District’s website that I realized the kind of effect that their kind of message might have.  It can be read in its entirety here: District Statement Regarding President Obama’s Address to School Children

First of all, if you’re taking the time to write such a lengthy statement and post it on your home page, then you’re buying into the argument that this is an issue.  You’re feeding into the frenzy.  You’re questioning the legitimacy of your elected president by making his good intentions an issue of debate.  This should not even be a talking point, folks.  It is the leader of our country attempting to encourage something that we all agree on.  If some well-known celebrity decided to address school children about the importance of getting an education would people be so quick to complain?  I think not.

I’m a little more encouraged with Austin Independent School District’s approach, but still not entirely satisfied. 
Viewing of the Web Address of President Barack Obama on September 8, 2009

Here’s a thought…Why even bother reacting?  All it does is acknowledge to everyone that there’s something to be questioned.  And do we really want to start questioning legitimate acts of greatness?  Have we really come to a point where we don’t trust even the positive messages?

Transparency, Depth and Facebook

I sold my MacBook. And while it was a pretty painful experience to do so, I’m realizing some benefits to my PC that I guess I took for granted before. For one, there’s the sound the keyboard makes when I’m fully immersed in my writing. I sat in my room last night, and found myself marveling at the abyss between the sound the keys on my MacBook would make and that of the keys in my PC. In the event it’s been lost on you, I’m an extremely sensory-focused human being. If it doesn’t appeal to at least two of my senses, then I move on rather quickly.

Enter Facebook.

I divorced myself from the black hole that is Facebook a few weeks ago. And in the aftermath of the split I’ve found myself coming alive again. Funny how that happens, isn’t it? There’ve been a few occasions where friends have given me shit for leaving, but the irony lies in the fact that their shit speaks directly to why I left. For instance, Kirk’s response was that I would need to text him status updates on a daily basis. When I didn’t, he asked if I was still alive. So I called him and in the process he told me one of the most hilarious stories I’d heard in a long time. Upon my response he said “well, if you’d have been on facebook, you’d have known about this.” To which I replied, “Then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of hearing the full story, in stereo, with vocal inflections – rather than the limited character count that only a FB status update provides.” Needless to say, he got it. And we’ve kept in touch like we used to regularly since then.

I don’t think I’m alone in my desire for depth. We have become so dependent upon instantaneous and shallow interactions that I worry we’ll forget what relationships truly are. Hell, I had these worries when texting first came into existence. Whatever happened to picking up the phone and having a meaningful conversation? Or better yet, meeting for lunch or drinks and catching up on the latest of life’s mysteries? I suppose I’m high maintenance in this way. Not to be confused with materialistic high maintenance – we’re talking about a ’94 Cutlass Supreme driver here. I want depth. I want connection. If it’s only on the surface, I grow tired and move on.

Speaking of depth, one of the things FB couldn’t allow for was total transparency. Granted, I could have (and did) put myself out there on a regular basis – there was no question as to my thoughts or feelings (good or bad) at any given time. But we’re talking about doing so with people who were connected to me mostly as a result of having one thing in common: grade school. And those people – especially the area I come from – don’t typically take kindly to the kind of openness I was exhibiting. Simply put, I’ll be open. I’ll be raw. I’ll have no regard for audience – if the audience is one that chooses to be there. If you feel obligated to be in my presence, then I don’t want you here. Think of it as a date or a night out. I don’t want to be surrounded by people who are present only because they feel they have to be. That isn’t to say that I don’t welcome constructive criticism. If it’s well thought out and not an attack on my character, I welcome dissenting opinion. I’m well aware of the fact that people like to watch a train wreck. And while I’m not quite the train wreck I once was, I still walk the tracks from time to time.

I’ve always been an open book. Probably always will be. And while there are those who have warned against this way of living, I can’t see myself being any other way. What’s so wrong about being honest and forthright? We talk all the time about wanting to find someone who accepts us for who we are and yet we put on this mask when we first meet others. We tailor or communication to fit our audience and present ourselves how we think they want us to be. All this does is set the stage for failure and misunderstandings. I say, put yourself out there and leave nothing to question.

Take it or leave it.