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 |  Life is rough...I have to write it out. |
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I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I guess it is a good thing I didn't actually hold my breath. |
| Fuck. Wanna know what fucking sucks? Every fucking thing. It is just that simple. Every. Fucking. Thing. But let’s talk about a tiny slice of joy that blasted through two hours of my current darkness. I was an eighties child. Like …. Child. However, I was also a child with unfettered access to media consumption. Something considerably safer in 1983...I mean we are talking what….parental advisory stickers on CDs and printed books? Although I have quite a few friends who will recall being able to blast Lodi Dodi from my new CD player while my mom made us a snack in the kitchen, so clearly my unrestricted access evolved with both my age and technology. But I remain an eighties child. I would drown in the media/entertainment from that decade if I could. I had my favorites. I reference them in this blog often, albeit by name so that the youngins have to look something up...but still. I had my favorites back then and many remain the same. Enter American Utopia into my current dark, dank, depressing existence. Re-enter David Byrne who has somehow retained the ability to simply BE the eighties. In sound, lyrics, movement, atmosphere. The visual joy that I received from this show was at such a level that even Husband A was caught looking at me in surprise, later mentioning that it was a realization that I can be that happy still. A move that both saddened me and fucking pissed me off. The whole of my existence is not only that which he can see after all. A younger person would have watched the two hours of music and not have been able to differentiate with certainty which songs came from 2018 and which were from 40 years ago. And that is fucking amazing. Kid B also enjoyed it. Kid A is my fellow eighties kid musically but Kid B is my fellow mean song kid and she has a version of Burning Down the House about Kid A keeping all the fries to herself all of the time. She took my one verse I crafted on the fly to piss Kid A off and developed it into a much prettier, sharper weapon. ****Okay I TRIED, I swear I tried to refrain. I went to post this and had to come back and say…. Kid B has a version of Burning Down the House she uses to Byrne Kid A. (if you didn’t smile just now then go away)
My idiot town is currently trying to block a neighborhood of “high-density housing” from being built on the edge of town. Like…..THE EDGE. And while I can logically recognize that many legitimate arguments against this neighborhood exist….for example….141 new homes? We just built two new school buildings that we didn’t fit in on day one…..where are these kids going to go? Or even the inevitable increase in traffic at the corner right there where people already love to run the light. The problem is that I can’t even get behind these sorts of logical arguments. Not just because I could care less about class size. My kids are smart and they are fine, and if they were not then I would recognize my responsibility as a parent to assist them. Teacher to student ratio is not a thing I find important. And after being in our schools so much I can promise you that if you think that it is important for the kids who require extra teacher attention…..that’s not how it works. They don’t get extra attention as they should...they get grouped with others who need attention and then given different assignments. Or they are grouped and then singled out as a “helper” comes in to teach them quietly in the back of regular class….a path making the TEACHER part of your ratio irrelevant. And not even because I think people run red lights at every stoplight everywhere. Anyway, all of that is pointless because these are not my town’s arguments. Not privately in the swampy corners of their bigot mansions and not publicly in the paper, Facebook, or petition sites either. They are so gross. They are commenting regarding the ability of homes that cheap to fit into the atmosphere of our town. They are worried about the income level of people who live in vinyl villages changing the value of the “poor neighborhoods who will butt up next to it”. They are worried about the crime that comes with the “sort of people” who can’t live closer into town. It is enraging me. For many reasons. I am a person who can afford to live in a vinyl village. And while I have already been told to leave town for other reasons (even had an offer of assistance from a realtor) I currently live in one of the brick ranches that have been here longer than some of these babies having babies to pass on their thumping have been alive. Not because I could afford to buy this house in the heart of cross burning town but because a convergence of circumstances dictated that I do so. If I didn’t tell you that I was one of those lower-income mother fuckers you would never know. People who live eight miles away are protesting this shit outside of city council meetings. Think about that. 8 fucking miles. That is closer to one of the surrounding towns than ours, considering our actual town limits are approximately 6 miles from end to end. THEY LIVE FURTHER AWAY THAN THE SIZE OF THE TOWN. What the fuck do those people care about who lives 8.3 miles away? Oh, wait...lemme check those comments….that’s right...for them, it seems to be about the “sort of people” which from the rest of their comments has become clear they mean people who don’t glow under a black light. That’s okay - they need not confirm nor deny - “sort of people” is code here in my town. This vinyl village is cutting the zoned property from 1 acre lots with homes starting in the 400’s to ½ acre lots and double the number of homes. This vinyl village is also within walking distance of my house. These dumb assholes think we should be fearful. Fearful. Get alarms. Possibly relocate to a place where the property values aren’t going to fall. My neighbor right now is an A&E level hoarder who digs up weeds and plants them in rows like corn. She has three layers of fences like a fucking chalupa and shit. Property values my ass. I’d like it if a pot dealer moved in….it is just so so so close to me. Maybe they can move in on Child Molester Court or down Theivery Lane. The town would love that. Also - even after all of that story, I would like to say that the biggest thing that has pissed me off this week is being crack-free. |
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