Monthly Archives: April 2010

Teaching Kids Simple Words: Egg

7 Year Old: Mom, what’s the yoky part of the egg?

Me: You mean the Yolk?

7 Year Old: No, I mean, which part does the baby chick come from?

Me: Ok, honey, the eggs you are eating? These are not the kind that baby chicks come from.

7 Year Old: Why?

Me: These are eggs that have not been… (Oh fuck!)  Sigh.  Ok.  You know how in order to make a baby? … You need a mommy and a daddy together to make a baby?  Well, the eggs you are eating only came from the mommy hen.  There is no daddy involved.

7 Year Old: How come there are single mommies with children?

Me: *Inserting foot in mouth*  There are daddies.  It’s just that the daddy for some reason is not living with them any more…

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Hind sight is 20-20. Why did I go into unnecessary details? I was all of a sudden caught in a panic that he might decide to not eat eggs due to the baby chick situation, he who only eats 5 kinds of food. I needed to reassure him that he’s not endangering any baby chics by eating eggs. I could not run the risk of eggs being off the menu.

Up next: Why honey was almost off the list.

Seriously. I could write a dissertation on this

My parents watch a lot of TV. They are at a stage where they deserve to do whatever they feel like, really, and my dad’s health does not allow him to stray away too much or too often from stationary activities. That being said, there are three televisions inside the 800-sq-ft. 3- BR apartment, so yeah, they watch a lot of TV. I have realized after having left home for the U.S. in 1993 that the most precious yet the most difficult gift I can give my parents is simply being there.  As a result, I end up watching a lot of TV when I keep them company.

It is always a quick and dirty way for me to get reacquainted with the here and now in Taiwan. The social mores in vogue. I am often reminded to be proud of where I came from, followed by a sudden wave of homesickness and dread while I am… at home… because of my imminent departure. On the other hand, I am also quite frequently flabbergasted, especially by the commercials. Since  “a cultural critic / modern tribe ethnographer” was one of my answers to “What do you want to be when you grow up?”), I cannot help but have a running commentary scrolling through my mind’s eye, my mental news ticker. To be unabashedly confessional, I am fascinated and excited by the contradictions, the dichotomy, the ambiguities represented in the media messages now that I have had a chance to step outside, looking in.

Sometimes a virtual lower third is the only image superimposed on what I am seeing…

WTF MOMENT: I CAN TOTALLY WRITE A DISSERTATION ON THIS.

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(The first line of caption in the video says, “The 42nd day after breakup…”

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httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFHk6nARDcM

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p.s. This post is being written as I watch TV with my father which we have been doing for about 2 hours now…

p.p.s. The first time we saw this commercial, my father said, “@#%%$. We are a bunch of crazy people.”

p.p.p.s. Yes, this commercial is being aired at all hours, not just “after hours” which do not exist here anyway.

WTF Wednesday: Letter to Congressman

Now that healthcare reform bill has been signed into law, and we are NOT holding our breath to see when changes can really be carried out, probably years, and by then, I’d probably be dead from holding my breath especially since I can in all honesty hold my breath for only 10 seconds under normal circumstances… It’s amazing I know for someone with such a loud mouth and loud voice, my lung capacity is pathetically puny… what with the lawsuits filed by several states, the continual protests from the GOP and the Tea Don’t-Call-Me-Baggers Party members, something else on the horizon for the Republicans to wage a new battle:

The proposed VAT.

Actually, it was not even proposed in the congress. People started ASKING QUESTIONS about VAT because economist, former Federal Reserve Chairman, current White House advisor, Paul Volcker on April 6 answered a question at a New York Historical Society event, saying that VAT is not as toxic an idea as people may think. Oh, he also said, “If at the end of the day we need to raise taxes, we should raise taxes.”

Ooops. They (The Dems) did it again! Sound the alarm!

I have been trying to read upon various opinion pieces to draw my own conclusion. But the fact is: NOBODY has officially proposed it yet except John McCain, the Maverick. He alone proposed an anti-VAT amendment preemptively.  Like anybody else I would like to be able to keep as much of my hard-earned money as possible. I was surprised therefore by my annoyance when I received an email from my Congressman, taking a survey, with a simple question: “Should Congress impose a new VAT tax?”

With NO information whatsoever on the background and origin of the recent brouhaha over VAT.

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Most likely I simply needed a good dose of rage to distract me from life itself. Nothing, NOTHING, gives a good slap to wake me up from my self-pitying stupor like a good invitation for raging psychotic foaming. I immediately saw this email, perhaps wrongly, as an incendiary, biased missive disguised as an innocent, neutral survey. A fear monger. So I fired off this email, perhaps a bit pigheadedly. It felt good, I have to admit.  I don’t really care that he will not read it.

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Dear Congressman Kirk,

I feel the email survey on the proposed VAT you have sent out via email is misleading, if not disingenuous. When you send out an email with a brief question “The Congress decided to add more tax. Do you think they should levy more tax?” I am going to take a wild guess that most of the respondents will say “H to the ELL NO WAY!” I am going to take another wild guess that you and your staff will then show the survey results, perhaps even call a news conference, with the “stunning” result of the majority surveyed having chosen “NO”.

If a doctor goes to a patient and says, “Would you like to have toxic chemicals injected into your body, with the potential risk of killing the cells in your bone marrow, losing all your hair, and in general feeling weak and like cr*p all the time?” I am going to take a wild guess that the patient is going to say, “NO.” But if the doctor provides the patient with the facts and the reasons behind his/her recommendation, the patient will be empowered to make an informed decision.

Yes. You can argue that people who want more information can always go online. After all, google is just one click away. But let’s be honest with ourselves: The topic of TAXES has always been extremely personal to people especially those who are blessed enough to be in the high-income bracket, and lately it has been turned into an emotional subject as well. in your wildest guess, what will be the % of the people who after receiving this email wondered about the facts behind the VAT proposal instead of getting some gut / visceral reactions to the short question you posted?

Frankly I am disappointed. For the very least you could have included a link in your email to a fact-based, neutral information page. Granted very low % of the recipients are expected to bother to click on that link, but to those who care to learn more and to make their decisions based on facts and not based on a base human desire for self-preservation and an all-too-human “They can eat cake” mentality, such a skin-deep effort on your part would have helped prevent this bad taste in my mouth I am experiencing.

Sincerely,

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I only bring up my degree when I write complain letters...

Two Funerals

First Funeral

I went to my first funeral that I could/would remember this past Saturday. If I think about it, I should find myself fortunate enough to be able to say that.

Three of my four grandparents passed away before I was born. When my grandfather passed away, I was discouraged from partaking in the funeral rituals because in general we don’t like children “mixed up” in these events, and possibly also because my birth dates was in conflict with some auspicious numbers.

The funeral was for someone that technically is not related to me, if your view of family is based on the Western, nuclear family. But to me, in my Chinese view of the world, the six degree of separation is close enough that I felt obliged to attend, especially since the funeral was in a town less than an hour away. L was only four years older than I am.

It’s not that we were particularly close. I have only saw her twice, even though I do see her families during the holidays when I visit my in-laws.  What compelled me, what gave me this (perhaps misguided) sense of urgency to be there, was the thought of her father having to be there, at his daughter’s funeral. That’s one of the worst things that I could think of to happen to anybody. For what it’s worth, I felt I needed to be there for the elders.

Because I have never been to a funeral in the U.S., I was surprised by how much laughter there was. And it didn’t seem wrong to laugh at all. With L lying there, and her friends talking about how passionate she was, and how “Yeah, try and get in a word when she was on a roll” she could be, it felt simply wonderful to laugh, to remember the happiness she has brought them.

Because of my recent loss, I probably over-projected a bit. I ended up crying too much, disproportionate one might think to my relationship to L. She has lived in Chicago by herself away from her families all her adult life. So I was crying for her, for her father, for her families, for myself, and for my aunt.

When I hugged her father who was still obviously in shock, he felt so fragile. I was afraid that if I hugged him too tight I might break him. All I did was cry.

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The Dash

L’s best friend read a poem to her, and for us,

The Dash by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard;
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

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Culture Shock

Although I was worried that my inability to stop crying might have caused more crying than there would have been, in the end, I am happy that I went. How could I have stayed away? In the Chinese sense, my in-law’s in-laws ARE my families. Others may not understand this, but I’d have felt guilty if I didn’t even make the effort.

Lately the stark difference between what Chinese and “The Polite White Society” (for a lack of a better descriptive term) consider to be family, and how far one would go for families, is getting on my nerves. This has been so far the biggest chasm between Chinese culture and “White” culture I have experienced. In comparison, all the other differences are merely skin deep. So after being in this country for 17 years, I sense I am going through my first wave of culture shock.

What can I say? I have always been a late bloomer.

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Foreign

I am flying home for the funeral of my aunt. I am anxious because it is important to me that I make it this time. My final chance to say goodbye, in my mind.

I know funerals are elaborate affairs back home. The older generation loves telling us: “There are three important occasions in life that need to be properly commemorated: Birth. Marriage. Death.”

A proper funeral and the series of ceremonies leading to the funeral affect not only the deceased’s ability to pass over to the other side in peace but also the chances of the descendants to prosper. Nobody wants to run the risk of committing any error. In order to remind myself what funerals are like in Taiwan, I googled it. Yup, I am a loser. I googled about my “own” culture on google. Leave me alone.

ELABORATE is probably a euphemism. I’ll simply put it this way.

Discussions with my parents about my aunt’s funeral and all the rituals and ceremonies and rules and restrictions and the right dates and times and the prayers and the head pieces and the special dresses and the “who is supposed to stand where and when” and the expectations for ostentatious mourning and the kneeling and the crawling and the “because you are only a daughter and not a daughter-in-law you don’t need to wear 100% black” rules and the reassurance “People will not mind because you have been away for so long” in case I do something wrong, I realized, I am foreign.

Here and there.

Interview with my child: “Why I don’t like blogs”

Mom: How do you like blogs?

Child: I hate them.

Mom: Why?

Child: It is very annoying to me because my mom is being spoiled and wasting time instead of doing something useful like reading a book.

Mom: Why do you think it’s a waste of time?

Child: Because it is like a computer or Facebook and it is wasting time, not like doing something relaxing like eating lunch or doing work.

Mom: Do you think doing my work is relaxing to me?

Child: No. Because doing your work is something you have to do.

Mom: Do you not like my blogging because you feel I am not spending time with you?

Child: Yes. No. Maybe so.

Mom: What if I say this is my hobby and I really enjoy doing it?

Child: Life’s not fair. Deal with it.

Mom: That’s all?

Child: That’s all. I wanted it to end in a funny way.

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"Oh My Blog!" is the new OMG!

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This post is brought to you by Just Humor Me who shared her new OMB! Award with me. Thank you, Diane! There are rules associated with this award:

A. doing a video blog (vlogging)

B. writing a blog post while in a state of intoxication (drogging) or

C. blogging about your most embarrassing moment (embarraslogging)

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Originally I had this evil scheme of making begging Mr. Monk, my 7-year-old, to vlog for me since he’s been having a lot of fun with Flip video. I made the mistake of forgetting to use bribes not easing him into this idea, instead I ASKED HIM NICELY.

“No.” He said without even giving it another thought.  “Here’s your pencil and paper. Go!”

“What?”

“Well, you want to interview me right? Ask me questions. I answer. You write them down. Don’t you know anything about interviewing people, MOM?!”

What did he mean? Writing stuff down longhand? I haven’t done that since, well, grad school!

“How about this? How about if I write your answers down on my blog?”

“What?” He sounded rather indignant, sensing entrapment. “You want to write about me on your blog. Again?”

At the end, the exhibitionist in him won the battle.  In fact, I made the mistake of pushing forward with my REAL question:

“Do you not like my blogging because you feel I am not spending time with you?”

After he gave me the deliberately ambiguous answer which spelled out, to me, the real reason behind his discomfort with my new obsession “hobby”, he was rather upset.

“You ruined everything! I want ‘Life is not fair. Deal with it.’ to be my last line! Because I really want it to end in a funny way!!!”

So I manipulated the interview script to give him what he wanted.

“Good. Now can you print it out for me?” He couldn’t wait to show it off to his brother. “Look! These are my words!”

Later when we were getting ready for bed, he penned a poem calling his brother a Computer Geek and a Facebook Freak. Nice I know. But hey, we encourage artistic creativity in this household!

“Mom. I know what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a writer!”

So… Who is a future blogger in the making?!…

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It is extremely hard to decide whom to pass on this award to since all of you are wonderful bloggers. This may be a tall order: Anybody up to give VLOGGING a try?

Vagina-blogging? I guess we have all (except the handful of male readers I have… I am a sexist now too, I guess…) been VLOGGING all this time.

Video Blogging. Anybody up for it?

Bueller? Bueller?

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEXfASbPbDM

Teaching Kids Simple Words: Part 1

I have learned in my parenting career that the fewer letters there are in a word, the more the potential of it being an extremely difficult concept to explain to your child. Some small words are deceptively simple. Small words with big, heavy baggages.

Mr. Monk used the word “gay” in the bad way the other day.

As soon as he said it, he knew he did something wrong. The air froze. The earth stood still. His brother sucked in his breath and for once, was speechless.

“It’s ok. Mommy’s not mad.” I reached for his hand and walked him upstairs to his room where I could talk to him quietly, without my 12-year-old chiming in whenever I took a breath as if he couldn’t wait to start parenting himself.

“I am sorry. I know I am not supposed to use this word, unless of course I am using it the right way.”

“What is the right way of using the word?”

“Being happy?”

I had to make a split decision at that moment to decide whether I should seize the opportunity to educate him or to prolong this “shielding”. I remembered this excerpt from NurtureShock:

How to raise racist kids?

Step One: Don’t talk about race. Don’t point out skin color. Be “color blind.”

Step Two: Actually, that’s it. There is no Step Two.

Congratulations! Your children are well on their way to believing that <insert your ethnicity here> is better than everybody else.

I decided to talk about what it means to be gay, to not make a big deal out of it, in the most basic manner, especially since we do see a lot of gay characters now on TV and in the movies, for which I am pleased.

We also just finished watching Modern Family in which a gay couple was portrayed just like any other suburban couple in a sitcom.

“You know there are people who are gay right?”

He nodded.

“Do you know what it means that they are gay?

“That they are happy?” Then he chuckled in a way that said he didn’t believe his answer and he was proud at his own wittiness.

“It means that… some people when they grow up, they realize that, well, … Ok.  Instead for a man to have a girlfriend, he has a boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“And there are women who instead of having boyfriends, you know, they are in love with their girlfriends.”

At this moment as I write, I realized that I didn’t use husbands and wives. Please allow me to explain my oversight as that because I was discusssing the matter of heart and love with him at that moment, I unconsciously used the term boyfriends and girlfriends because that’s what people get when they are in love. Boyfriends and girlfriends.

I crouched down and held onto his shoulders so I could look him in the eyes.

“Did you know that I have friends who are gay?”

He looked surprised.

“I have a friend, a boy, you know, a male friend, he is gay so he has a boyfriend.” I continued. “I also have a very good girlfriend and she and her girlfriend have been together for longer than 10 years!”

“Wow.” At this his eyes widened.

“Yup. I met saw them not too long ago. They look very happy together. Actually I think they get along much better than mommy and daddy. They don’t seem to fight a lot.”

A smile.

“It must be because they are girls!” A lightbulb lit up over his head.

Then he added, quieter now, while looking down at his own feet, “Or, because they don’t have kids?”

Oy, gevalt!

Let’s be creative! That’s so… BLEEP!

Who here has an obsessive personality and voted “Most Likely to Grow Up Alex Forrest” in High School? ME! I just cannot let it go.

Here’s what I wrote last week about the epidemic of the phrase “That’s so gay!”…

Let’s start with the word “Gay”.

Let’s start with banning the usage of the word “gay” as a substitute for “stupid, dumb, ugly, undesirable, etc.” from your schools.

Since I wrote “That’s so Gay” is NOT so funny! This has nothing to do with sense of humor… last February, “That’s so gay” has been gaining popularity as just another common expression. I am hearing (and seeing on Facebook) this phrase more and more often, from children younger and younger who have no idea what “being gay” means. As the phrase takes on the facade of familiarity, moving into the realm of the vernacular, taking on the identity of an idiom (because what exactly does it even mean in this context?! Children or the immature adults only know to prevent this phrase from ever being used on them… but what exactly does it mean?!) it is becoming harder and harder to fight it off.

I am tired of hearing “That’s so gay.” I really am. There are so many words in English to choose from to denote your distaste for something. Get a thesaurus. Get a book of classic insults by Shakespeare. Wilde. Because when you are so concerned about being called “gay” that “That’s so gay” becomes a popular insult, you know, you sound like a Homophobe to me. And you know what they say about Homophobes… How about this, let’s give “That’s so Beck” a try.

Once again, this is the case of “I must have been under a rock” since ladies and gentlemen, there IS has been a champaign to stop this madness, to bring awareness to the harm done by such a “harmless” phrase.

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I was really excited initially, “OMG! There IS a movement right now so I can simply jump on the wagon without having to feel so frustrated, with my panties all tied up and nowhere to go!”

Upon further investigation, I realized that the campaign was launched in 2008 by the Ad Council to dissuade people from using “That’s so gay” when they mean “stupid”. In 2008, people. That’s like the last century, no?! And we are still dealing with the same shit, and it is getting worse and worse every day.

I have been staring at this Twitter counter for a while now.

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I don’t know what’s happening with this campaign, movement, PSA. Is it still in vogue? Was it ever? But I saw this, I thought my proposed replacement phrase THAT’S SO BECK! has legs!

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Let's be creative! That's so..... Bush? As in the plant bush, really. Scout's honor.

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That’s so…

What clever, witty, humorous sayings can you come up with as a comeback?

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Watch the PSA commercial with Wanda Sykes from 2008 for inspiration if you wish. It’s as per usual HILARIOUS. (Warning: Just don’t read the comments… Trust me.) As for effectiveness? Let’s just say it was done in 2008 and I don’t remember ever hearing about this, until now. Sorry I’m all Rah! Rah! one second, and then Debbie Downer the next.

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One Ellen DeGeneres is not enough

If you look at the ratings, the crazed fans (“regular Suzy homemakers” many of them) in the audience, the 4.5 million followers on Twitter, her No. 3 position on the Twitter ranking (behind Ashton Kutcher and Britney Spears *Yes, I know* BUT ahead of POTUS), you’d be convinced that Ellen DeGeneres has gone mainstream. For goodness sake, Ellen is a CoverGirl! She is able to mention her wife Portia de Rossi in the mundane way that spouses mention each other in their conversations with other people without raising any eyebrows.

Wanda Sykes has a show on Fox.

The primetime TV show “Modern Family” on ABC includes in its main characters a suburban couple with an adopted daughter who happen to be gay without any trace that would possibly remind you of Jack from Will and Grace.

If you put your blinder on (and force yourself to forget about Prop 8), you can tell yourself that, yes, gays and lesbians have been accepted as “one of us”. Or at the very least, homosexuality is now broadly accepted as yet another piece of fabric weaved into this complex, multi-faceted world that we live in.

You would be wrong.

First of all, as you are well aware of, there is a fight raging on in Washington over “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”. I can’t do my frustration justice without simply asking you to watch my beloved Jon Stewart proposing a ban on Old People from serving in the Senate. Naturally “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” would apply also should this ban go through…

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The Daily Show With Jon Stewart Mon – Thurs 11p / 10c
A Few Gay Men & Women
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Reform

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Earlier we were outraged by what happened to Constance McMillan, the lesbian high school student in Itawamba, Mississippi who wanted to wear a tux and bring her girlfriend to the prom and was denied this request by the school board. At the same time we were amazed and impressed by this young woman’s poise, resolve and courage when she didn’t take the easy way out by simply backing down and instead took her case up with ACLU. Such a story naturally hit close to home for Ellen: She invited Constance to be on the show to tell her story and presented Constance with a scholarship of $30,000 (from an anonymous donor) at the end of the interview. Later when a federal judge ruled that the school board violated her rights by cancelling the prom (without ordering the district to hold the prom as planned), Ellen sent yet another strong message to Constance, and also to her viewers.

You’d thought such outrage would have taught the school district, the parents and the students involved to rethink their position and learn a lesson from this. But no…

Last Friday, Constance was sent to an effectively “fake” prom which was only attended by 5 other students. The principal and teachers were also there as chaperons. Two of these students were reportedly disabled. (One had to assume that they have also been directed to this “fake” prom). In the mean time, a privately-held party organized by parents was held in another location attended by, you guessed it, the other students. “The parents didn’t want Constance there, and they didn’t want to get sued.” Some reports said.

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The "Secret Prom" Constance McMillan was not invited to. She lucked out judging by the photo...

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You’d think that people would eventually wake up one morning and realized such cruelty is unbecoming of a human being and relent. But no…

The other students have been identifying themselves as victims because Constance ruined the prom and their memories of senior high school. As a normal teenager would do when they have an ax to grind against somebody, they started a Facebook page called “Constance quit yer cryin.(I just spent an hour reading some of the things being posted on that Facebook page. My jaws are still on the floor…)

All this is unbelievable isn’t it? Well, no worries. Because our fellow human beings never disappoint. What is even more unbelievable, more outrageous, more horrifying, and more saddening is the case of Phoebe Prince in South Hadley, MA, who killed herself in January after cyber and emotional bullying. The most un-fucking-believable part of this? Her tormentors went to her Facebook the day after she hung herself (and discovered by her 12-year-old sister!) and mocked her. Right there on the memorial page.

It’s been two months and every time when I think of her and this story, I cannot stop cursing and crying.

Finally on March 29, nine teenagers were indicted for their involvement in this case. I sure hope I will not hear about Facebook page set up by supporters of the Hadley 9 bemoaning how Phoebe Prince has ruined their lives.

What happened here?

The teachers have been blamed for Phoebe Prince’s death; the school district/board has been blamed for the prejudiced decision against Constance McMillan.

How about the parents?

What I am seeing is a severe case of Undeserved Sense of Entitlement and Lack of Accountability.

Teachers don’t teach you this at school. Nor should they be responsible for building characters and moral fortitude for the kids. It is the parents’ job, isn’t it?

Don’t get me wrong: I am not so smug as to assume that I will be able to understand my children when they turn teenagers. But as a parent, you have got to try as hard as you could. Now I know you did not try hard enough if you were organizing a private party just so you could exclude the gays and the disabled. The disabled? WHAK? Does the Bible say something against the disabled too?

Candace Gingrich-Jones on HuffPost put out a call for action:

“We can all learn a lot from Constance McMillan and how she has handled herself — when we see something that doesn’t seem right, it probably isn’t. And it is the responsibility of every one of us to take some kind of action on behalf of fairness. Whether you bring up bullying at the next PTA meeting, write a letter to the Itawamba County School District, or call out your friends or co-workers when they say ‘faggot’ or ‘that’s so gay,’ you are improving the climate for queer youth — and adults. Do something.”

DO SOMETHING.

Let’s tell our kids that “the buck stops here.” The buck has got to stop with them. Let’s tell them that we understand peer pressure and how hard it is to survive high school, but they have to be the one that speak up. If not to their peers, then to an adult. If malicious rumors are being circulated about someone, the least they have to do is to NOT continue the chain. Break the cycle of cruelty. Sometimes all it takes is one person to stand up or stay back or speak up.

LET’S DO SOMETHING.

Baby steps. All of us.

One Ellen DeGeneres is not enough.

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Let’s start with the word “Gay”.

Let’s start with banning the usage of the word “gay” as a substitute for “stupid, dumb, ugly, undesirable, etc.” from your schools.

Since I wrote “That’s so Gay” is NOT so funny! This has nothing to do with sense of humor… last February, “That’s so gay” has been gaining popularity as just another common expression. I am hearing (and seeing on Facebook) this phrase more and more often, from children younger and younger who have no idea what “being gay” means. As the phrase takes on the facade of familiarity, moving into the realm of the vernacular, taking on the identity of an idiom (because what exactly does it even mean in this context?! Children or the immature adults only know to prevent this phrase from ever being used on them… but what exactly does it mean?!) it is becoming harder and harder to fight it off.

I am tired of hearing “That’s so gay.” I really am. There are so many words in English to choose from to denote your distaste for something. Get a thesaurus. Get a book of classic insults by Shakespeare. Wilde. Because when you are so concerned about being called “gay” that “That’s so gay” becomes a popular insult, you know, you sound like a Homophobe to me. And you know what they say about Homophobes… How about this, let’s give “That’s so Beck” a try.

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p.s. Here’s my angry musing on the increasing popularity of the usage of “Gay” as an insult…

The increasing popularity of the usage of “Gay” as an insult is indicative of the underlying homophobic mentality permeating in our society, despite decades of working towards acceptance by the “mainstream”. This is, the way I read it, part of the backlash against the gains made by gays and lesbian. They have co-opted the word “queer” so that now it conveys pride in self-identification in some specific uses. It is then not too far off to see the co-opting of the word “Gay” as revenge by the not-so-enlightened amongst us: they are trying to turn the previously neutral and PC “label” (for lack of a better word) into a slur. “You took an insult word from us so that we can no longer hurt you with it. Guess what? We are going to turn how you have been identifying yourselves with into a insult equivalent of anything undesirable…”

Clever maneuver by the not-so-tolerant.

What does this say about how we really feel about those who are different from the “norm” deep down, behind the door, if we allow the use of this word on the playground and in the school hallways as part of the litany of insults that our kids can hurl at each other?

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And, like a bad infomercial on TV, THERE IS MORE!

The drama continues here on the Facebook page set up by the adults from Itawamba, Mississippi. It is easy to see where the kids have learned their prejudices and bigoted attitudes. I don’t want to sound naive to say that I am shocked by the ugliness found there. But despite all my cynicism, I am still shocked.

We interrupt our regular Monday Morning program to tell you…

The Fail Whale is Back!

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So how are we expected to start our Monday morning when we come back to our dreary cubicles, we start reading our emails, we find so many things to share with the anonymous Interweb, and we are “all dressed up with nowhere to go”? (Well, some smartie pants whom I adore dearly came up with a list of 10 awesome things we could be doing when Twitter is down that is mired in self mockery. Yes we know we are ridiculous, 140 characters at a time).

Without Twitter as my soap box, my mega phone, my mountain top, I am ready to burst.

Monday mornings already suck ass as it is…

How am I going to complain about having to drag myself out of bed to work? Who do I tell about the Dilbert moments in my office? What do I do now that I don’t have the venue to share my wisdom, or just things that I read and find interesting? I am a closeted SHARER, goddamn it!

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Twitter is down as confirmed by, ironically, tweets...

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Well, let’s keep our fingers crossed that this outage will not last as long and as disastrous as the Fall of August 2009 which lasted for *Shudder* AN ENTIRE FRIGGIN’ MORNING!

In the mean time, I have found quite a few stopgap websites that help ease the panic by reminding me how ridiculous all this is.

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Duly noted. But you know I am going to ignore you and the sarcasm as soon as Twitter is up and running again.

Athletes

I don’t know where my oldest gets his athletic prowess. I guess we lucked out.

He started gymnastics at our park district when he was three years old because I did not like the idea of sitting in the sun, the rain, or the cold for ball games. When he was seven, he was asked to join the newly-formed Boys Team  and he started his “career” in competitive gymnastics. It did sound impressive when I told people that he went to the State Championship. I am not one of those pushy and hyper-critical parents. I am amazed by the gymnastic moves my oldest can do, with ease, and most of the time, with grace. But I will be completely honest: there will be no Olympic medals in the future. He is good, could definitely do better, but not that good.

We attend his meets and hold our breath and watch, ready to comfort him or to cheer him on. It is getting harder and harder to sit in the audience since every event now involves the risk of him falling off or falling down. I don’t think I will be able to watch without having a heart attack as they start doing more and more dangerous “tricks”.

How do parents of Olympic athletes quiet their hearts when it is happening? What happens if something wrong happens to your child’s routine? How do you stop the ache in your heart, fortify it, and find the right words to comfort your heart-broken child? I used to wonder about that.

As my oldest reached the higher level in gymnastics, the routines became harder. Because he grew in height without packing on the pounds, his muscle strength (or lack of) does not allow him to perform as well as before. This became very obvious when he attended his first competition this past season.  Less then half way into his floor event, he fell, sat heavily on his bottom, not once, but twice. I could hear the gasps from the audience even in the noisy gymnasium. I will be brutally honest with you: it was painful to watch. I wanted to turn my head and close my eyes. NOT because I was embarrassed, please believe me when I say this, but because the urge to go to him right away and hug him was so strong that I physically felt ill. I had to sit on my hands to prevent them from flying to my mouth or chest and bite my lips so I didn’t break down and cry.

But he got up and finished his routine. He was not frazzled. Much to my surprise, when he exited the floor, he was neither in tears nor pouting; he walked back to where his team was sitting and fist-bumped his coaches.

THAT was one of the proudest moments I have had as a parent.

He has learned to fail. Or rather, he has learned the ability to not get bogged down by an accident or a mistake and forge ahead. He has learned the ability to remain calm and focus on what is ahead. An ability that I am sorely lacking.

Several days later when I was sure it was safe to touch upon the subject, I asked him with a frankness bordering on admiration,

“What was going through your mind when you fell and sat on the floor? How were you able to get up and continue with the routine? How did you find the strength to be so brave?” I was truly amazed by this young person’s (“My own son!”) will power to remain poised under such duress.

“Well, it’s nothing really. The coach has always told us to NOT think about what has happened and just focus on what’s next in the routine. We just need to focus and finish the routine. I don’t notice the audience when I am doing the routines. I just focus.”

Focus. Grace under fire. I believe these are the things that make athletes such special people. Any athletes, no matter the rankings or the scores. They don’t become broken-hearted by a single setback. They just do it again, and again, and again.

At his second meet when my son once again did not place and I once again agonized over what the right things to say to console and encourage him, he bounded to the bench where I was sitting in just one stride, plopped down, and before I could say, “I am sorry honey…”, declared with a smile, “I have achieved my three goals today.”

“I was telling everybody this. I have three goals for this meet and I reached all three of them:

1. I had fun
2. I did better than last time
3. I was not physically or emotionally scarred permanently.”

I laughed and slapped him on his back.

THAT was another one of the proudest moments I have had as a parent.