April 30, 2010
Friday, 6:55 P.M.
Home
Finally finished my paper for English. I went through a ream of paper printing out articles and spent I can't even guess, how many hours reading through all that paper to end up with a research paper that isn't exactly knocking my socks off. It's amazing how little information is really included in all the articles and reports you pull up to read. Each one of those sends you to another one that sends you to another one, all saying just about the same thing as the first, giving you a hundred words of actual information stated in a five thousand word report. Somebody should have taught these people how to write...
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Ghost Essay Part 2
April 29, 2010
Thursday
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Growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, the lure of the spirit world was not as significant as it is today. Séances and people communicating with those who have “crossed over” were associated with crazy gypsy women in wildly colored scarves and big hoop earrings scamming gullible, naïve ladies out of their life’s savings.
Casper, the Friendly Ghost, aired as a cartoon, featuring a little boy ghost who worked hard to dispel the image of scary, threatening spirits. As a child, I was comforted by that idea. I began to consider that, if there really were ghosts, maybe they weren’t so bad after all. This may be when I started filing my ghost data in the back of my mind.
It just seems that in the course of my life, I have felt, rather than seen, SOMETHING. There would be the cool spot in a ninety degree room or the soft, feather light touch of something on my cheek, the missing keys that mysteriously turn up where you looked just five minutes ago, the overwhelming sense of peace that comes over you for a moment, the faint scent of flowers in a hardware store, the instant solving of an impossible crossword puzzle definition, the fleeting glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye, the flush of a toilet in an empty bathroom, the creaking footfalls on the stairs when you are alone in the house. Some chalk these things up to a vivid imagination, coincidence, ignorance, or even insanity. I’m not too well known for my uncanny ability to mimic Stephen King or James Cameron, only so many things can be chalked up to coincidence, I have a pretty open, rational mind that would belie ignorance, and though I don’t have the paperwork to prove it, I feel fairly confident in my sanity.
Thursday
Home
Growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, the lure of the spirit world was not as significant as it is today. Séances and people communicating with those who have “crossed over” were associated with crazy gypsy women in wildly colored scarves and big hoop earrings scamming gullible, naïve ladies out of their life’s savings.
Casper, the Friendly Ghost, aired as a cartoon, featuring a little boy ghost who worked hard to dispel the image of scary, threatening spirits. As a child, I was comforted by that idea. I began to consider that, if there really were ghosts, maybe they weren’t so bad after all. This may be when I started filing my ghost data in the back of my mind.
It just seems that in the course of my life, I have felt, rather than seen, SOMETHING. There would be the cool spot in a ninety degree room or the soft, feather light touch of something on my cheek, the missing keys that mysteriously turn up where you looked just five minutes ago, the overwhelming sense of peace that comes over you for a moment, the faint scent of flowers in a hardware store, the instant solving of an impossible crossword puzzle definition, the fleeting glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye, the flush of a toilet in an empty bathroom, the creaking footfalls on the stairs when you are alone in the house. Some chalk these things up to a vivid imagination, coincidence, ignorance, or even insanity. I’m not too well known for my uncanny ability to mimic Stephen King or James Cameron, only so many things can be chalked up to coincidence, I have a pretty open, rational mind that would belie ignorance, and though I don’t have the paperwork to prove it, I feel fairly confident in my sanity.
Ghost Essay Part 1
April 29, 2010
Thursday, 6:30 P.M.
Home
An urban legend from my childhood told of a mean old man who died in the run-down shed on the property of a near neighbor. The rumor was that his ghost walked the streets of the neighborhood at night and came to the bedsides of sleeping children. When they would awake to his presence, he would point his bent, wrinkled up finger at them, terrorizing them in the dark. I woke one night and saw him standing at the foot of my bed, waving that mean old finger. I cowered under the covers, pulling them up over my head praying that when I looked again, he would be gone. He was.
This is my first memory of the subject of ghosts. Many were the nights after this experience that in my terror of seeing him again, I fought to stay awake, little body wrapped up in the covers like a mummy, so that the old man or any other spooky thing, for that matter, would not be able to touch me. Of course I would fall asleep and wake up just fine morning after morning until I forgot about the old man ghost.
Thursday, 6:30 P.M.
Home
An urban legend from my childhood told of a mean old man who died in the run-down shed on the property of a near neighbor. The rumor was that his ghost walked the streets of the neighborhood at night and came to the bedsides of sleeping children. When they would awake to his presence, he would point his bent, wrinkled up finger at them, terrorizing them in the dark. I woke one night and saw him standing at the foot of my bed, waving that mean old finger. I cowered under the covers, pulling them up over my head praying that when I looked again, he would be gone. He was.
This is my first memory of the subject of ghosts. Many were the nights after this experience that in my terror of seeing him again, I fought to stay awake, little body wrapped up in the covers like a mummy, so that the old man or any other spooky thing, for that matter, would not be able to touch me. Of course I would fall asleep and wake up just fine morning after morning until I forgot about the old man ghost.
Merry Way
April 29, 2010
Thursday, 6:13 P.M.
Home
Someone I care very deeply about is a drug addict, to be more precise, he is a crack addict. He was in recovery for the addiction for a lot of years, but over the past five or six, he has wandered back into dabbling with the pipe every once in a while. Now it has become more than once in a while, more like three or four times in a while. I've been around substance abusers my whole life and each and every one of them ends up the same way-hurting those they love, breaking their hearts, disappointing them and generally making their lives miserable, then saying "I'm sorry" expecting to be forgiven and going on their merry way until the next time. What crap!! Finally, after fifty years of putting up with these diseases in one form or the other, always playing the role of the loved one and never the abuser, I've had it. I don't have it in me anymore to forgive and/or forget. This life is too damn short to keep setting yourself up for what you know is just going to be more hurt. It's time for me to go on my merry way...
Thursday, 6:13 P.M.
Home
Someone I care very deeply about is a drug addict, to be more precise, he is a crack addict. He was in recovery for the addiction for a lot of years, but over the past five or six, he has wandered back into dabbling with the pipe every once in a while. Now it has become more than once in a while, more like three or four times in a while. I've been around substance abusers my whole life and each and every one of them ends up the same way-hurting those they love, breaking their hearts, disappointing them and generally making their lives miserable, then saying "I'm sorry" expecting to be forgiven and going on their merry way until the next time. What crap!! Finally, after fifty years of putting up with these diseases in one form or the other, always playing the role of the loved one and never the abuser, I've had it. I don't have it in me anymore to forgive and/or forget. This life is too damn short to keep setting yourself up for what you know is just going to be more hurt. It's time for me to go on my merry way...
Monday, April 26, 2010
Nearing the End
April 26, 2010
Monday, 7:58 P.M.
Home
The semester is nearing its end and so this entry will be fairly short. I have math studying to do to prepare for a test on Wednesday and I have to figure out how to set up the sources for my English paper. I have a feeling doing the sources is going to take me longer than doing the paper.
I sure have enjoyed this college thing, though. It's made me feel like a kid...
Monday, 7:58 P.M.
Home
The semester is nearing its end and so this entry will be fairly short. I have math studying to do to prepare for a test on Wednesday and I have to figure out how to set up the sources for my English paper. I have a feeling doing the sources is going to take me longer than doing the paper.
I sure have enjoyed this college thing, though. It's made me feel like a kid...
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Part 2
April 25, 2010
Sunday, 4:57 P.M.
Home
Student, Darien Crank, an 18 year old senior in Fort Campbell High School in Kentucky, is no stranger to his dad’s multiple deployments. His father is now serving in Afghanistan, his third deployment in six years. Darien has taken on the role of “man of the house” each time his father has left. This year his father will miss Darien’s senior prom, graduation and send off to college. Sadly, the son acknowledges that the separations have taken a toll on their relationship. “He’s been gone for so long; I can’t even imagine our relationship being really close.” (Wilson)
Fort Campbell High School psychologist, Nancy Beale is concerned about the lasting impacts on families. The teens she sees know they can handle it and know what they need to do, but they begin to resent their parents missing so many milestones in their lives. She notes that “younger children may exhibit deployment-induced stress with sleep disturbances and regression. She sees “a lot more splintering apart of husbands and wives” which is a major detriment to their children. (Wilson)
Sunday, 4:57 P.M.
Home
Student, Darien Crank, an 18 year old senior in Fort Campbell High School in Kentucky, is no stranger to his dad’s multiple deployments. His father is now serving in Afghanistan, his third deployment in six years. Darien has taken on the role of “man of the house” each time his father has left. This year his father will miss Darien’s senior prom, graduation and send off to college. Sadly, the son acknowledges that the separations have taken a toll on their relationship. “He’s been gone for so long; I can’t even imagine our relationship being really close.” (Wilson)
Fort Campbell High School psychologist, Nancy Beale is concerned about the lasting impacts on families. The teens she sees know they can handle it and know what they need to do, but they begin to resent their parents missing so many milestones in their lives. She notes that “younger children may exhibit deployment-induced stress with sleep disturbances and regression. She sees “a lot more splintering apart of husbands and wives” which is a major detriment to their children. (Wilson)
Six HoursToday Part 1
April 25, 2010
Sunday, 4:51 P.M.
Home
Considering that I have spent a solid six hours working on my research paper, I feel no guilt in using it as at least a triple contribution to my blog. So here, not in its entirety, it is!
In this era of the “War on Terrorism” we, as a nation, are dependent on the expertise, courage, loyalty, fortitude and commitment to duty of an all volunteer military force. As a result, many of these companies of soldiers are being redeployed to Iraq and/or Afghanistan, not only once, but two and three times leaving their homes and families for fifteen months at a time. Four deployments means up to sixty months, five years out of a military family’s life. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, graduations, little league games, first dates, scraped knees, loose teeth, riding two wheelers, broken hearts, broken spirits, school projects, family vacations, proms, life, love, laughter, tears, all woven into a normal American family’s life, continues to evolve even as the parent and/or spouse of said family serves thousands of miles away. One can only imagine the impact this has on all concerned in these scenarios. As the parent continuing to endure the day to day trials and tribulations of raising a family, the military spouse is forced to establish a whole new mindset with regard to maintaining the family unit. They are solely responsible for the physical, mental and emotional health of their growing children. They end their days in bed alone with silent prayers that their loved one makes it through another day. This, in and of itself, for a twelve month period is looked upon as manageable; difficult, lonely, but manageable. When faced with the prospect over and over again, it can be construed as impossible or worse yet, not worth the effort.
Sunday, 4:51 P.M.
Home
Considering that I have spent a solid six hours working on my research paper, I feel no guilt in using it as at least a triple contribution to my blog. So here, not in its entirety, it is!
In this era of the “War on Terrorism” we, as a nation, are dependent on the expertise, courage, loyalty, fortitude and commitment to duty of an all volunteer military force. As a result, many of these companies of soldiers are being redeployed to Iraq and/or Afghanistan, not only once, but two and three times leaving their homes and families for fifteen months at a time. Four deployments means up to sixty months, five years out of a military family’s life. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, graduations, little league games, first dates, scraped knees, loose teeth, riding two wheelers, broken hearts, broken spirits, school projects, family vacations, proms, life, love, laughter, tears, all woven into a normal American family’s life, continues to evolve even as the parent and/or spouse of said family serves thousands of miles away. One can only imagine the impact this has on all concerned in these scenarios. As the parent continuing to endure the day to day trials and tribulations of raising a family, the military spouse is forced to establish a whole new mindset with regard to maintaining the family unit. They are solely responsible for the physical, mental and emotional health of their growing children. They end their days in bed alone with silent prayers that their loved one makes it through another day. This, in and of itself, for a twelve month period is looked upon as manageable; difficult, lonely, but manageable. When faced with the prospect over and over again, it can be construed as impossible or worse yet, not worth the effort.
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