The Pareidolia Paradigm
I have always seen images in seemingly plain things.
Never could see those damn pictures in those 3D Stereograms though! Remember them? I believe they were at their hottest in the 90’s. ‘Magic Eye’ art.
I would stare – nose to the frame then back away, back away, back away.
Nothing. Pffft.
Ok, I think ONCE I saw something. But this was probably after some smarty-eye next to me announced what they saw “Oh look! It’s a sail boat! And there are people on it waving and one of them is missing a button on their jacket!” Oh shut up.
Anyway – back to pareidolia.
‘the human tendency to read significance into random or vague stimuli (both visual and auditory). The term comes from the Greek words “para” (παρά), meaning beside or beyond, and “eidolon” (εἴδωλον), meaning form or image.’
My earliest memories of this phenomenon would be my bedroom wall when I was a child. The wall was textured and I had a whole world living on it! I always wanted to trace around my findings in pencil and capture them. Mostly faces – but often animals, familiar characters – body parts like hands and torsos – plants and landscapes.
I loved gazing at my wall and discovering new pictures.
A more recent example would be my purse yesterday morning.
Although my friends see things too – I felt I had to include examples beside it before I shared. God forbid anyone think I was bonkers. (Alright, we know I’m bonkers, but I needed someone to validate my muppet purse. Yip, yip, yip.)
Tile is another endless wonderland for me. I’ve always stared down at tile and found imagination gold.
Here’s Roger from the animated show American Dad. The little perv lives in my bathroom.
Do you see him?
It’s not just objects in things – I see pictures in font too. lol <— looks like a man drowning to me. The ampersand looks like something scooting across a carpet.
I’m not alone – or this wouldn’t be on the internet:
The great thing is I’m not alone – and my friends pepper my Facebook page with images they know I’ll see – that they see too.
But did you know that pareidolia used to be considered a symptom of psychosis?!
I’m pleased to announce to those friends and to you reading this that can relate – that is no longer the case.
We seers are normal.
Well – as normal as someone who says ‘hi’ to Roger every time she goes pee can be.
Interview with a meth addict. Looking for good and finding it.
Those Junkies! Crackheads! Methheads! Losers! Addicts!
Waste of space. Waste of life. Human trash.
If you’ve never wanted to feel like anything but yourself, you are blessed.
If you’ve never felt the pain and grip of addiction, you are blessed.
We seem to sweep under the rug of convenience the ‘prescription pill addicts’ – the ‘dirty martini addicts’, the ‘work out addicts’. The ‘I partied with a little coke” confessors. As long as there is someone doing something worse than us, we’re ‘ok’. Even the news is geared to shock and awe us into ‘phew, my life is not THAT bad’.
It’s funny – but there’s even a stigma within the addiction community – there’s those who snort, those who smoke and those who shoot up. Much like doing a crime and doing the time in prison, if you’ve sinned you’ve sinned right? Nope. They have their no-no’s. If your conviction involves harming a woman or child – watch out. No matter if you murdered someones son. We judge, judge, judge.
When it does come to addiction, did you ever stop to wonder who ‘Those People’ were before they turned to drugs the first time? Afterall, ‘they’ are daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, moms, dads. Who are ‘Them”?
They were once clean and innocent, had hopes and dreams. Healthy and excited about life.
What happened?
What takes a person from sobriety to addiction?
I shall break the 4th wall here and tell you that I could answer if you ever asked – there is more to the name of my blog than meets the eye and I have hundreds of stories I could tell.
I have to tell you that this is the hardest piece I’ve ever written – being an ‘interviewer’ and while caring very deeply for her subject.
But today I am telling you someone elses story.
We were chatting on the phone the other night and he asked “Did I ever read you what I wrote in my journal?”

No. No he hadn’t. (largely due to the fact that he only recently found his journals once again) So he proceeded to share. And once he did – I insisted on an interview, (after already inviting him to share his story on my blog.)
Open your heart and mind and join me as I introduce you to one of my friends, in the most candid interview I’ve ever been privileged to share.
Behind the scenes info:
I had to stop several times due to the authenticity (that you know I love) being too overwhelming for me.
I always want to wrap the ones I love in cotton wool and put them in a matchbox for safekeeping. I don’t ever want those I love to hurt.
You wonder why I consider the parents when I speak of my neighbors? Because I look at everyone with Clockwork Orange eyes – large and engaged and unable to look away. And with a past of understanding. That’s why.
I give to you my friend Jim. He gives himself to you too – and if you want to reach out – contact me and I will put you in touch with him.
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A journey back. ))))))))))) please join me while we travel with James Beck former upstanding father, citizen, brother, son, friend turned wrong by the need for speed. 100% methane nitro supercharged 50,000 Watts of power pushing overload! This is the fucker that I will beat. I’m looking you right in the eye this time and I will put you down like I have before without blinking an eye! This time I’m going to make Mr. meth hurt. Kick that cocksucker in the mouth then make him eat the curb for dessert. He will feel my potential grow till no light will shine on that worthless good for nothing user of life and love. Like Pac-Man eating dots he sucks the life and hopes, dreams into the abyss. Battle is on. I will also turn this whole experience into a positive. Hey friends, brothers, sisters, mother, you!, I’m putting “God first” ,working hard on making amends on the things I have executed out with the help of Mr. meth, Lucifer, and of course the big S man, Satan! God has my heart now. Satan will no longer feel my mind, heart, soul with his evil. Giving it to Him. I love you Lord and pray for your help. Use me please Please!
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Me: Tell me about the first time you wanted to feel ‘different’ – get out of your reality.
Jim: I think that goes back to as far as I can remember. I am the youngest of six kids 10 years behind my closest brother. Early in my life I had a sister who OD’d when she was 18 years old and I was 5 1/2.
My family really didn’t know how to handle it. She didn’t die but she lost her mind and became schizophrenic.
(Editors note: Not sure if ‘became’ schizophrenic is accurate – I do believe you’re born with the genetic disposition – and a certain age brings it out (see rapture) – but from a young family members memories – this must have happened in tandem)
From those early days on I felt different and uncomfortable. I suffered a lot of mental physical and sexual abuse from her. I never felt normal and I always felt like I was different from others. I had a few close friends and that was it. My outlet for all that was sports. Then in my early teens I discovered something that could really change my reality. Drugs and alcohol
Me: What came first? Drugs or alcohol?
Jim: Drinking came first. Like I said I was with a group of tight friends – five of us. They’d all smoke pot and drink and I resisted for a while.
Then I took my first drink. It was out of a bottle of Smirnov vodka, 1 gallon size. It was before a Friday night football game and I remember it well. Within a week or two of that first drink I was drinking alcoholically . My drink of choice was Schlitz malt liquor bull out of a beer bong with a quarter pint of Southern comfort. This went on for almost a year. My friends smoking pot and doing other drugs and just drinking for myself. The fear of being like my sister kept me from doing the drugs
Me: That first drink – how did it make you feel?
Jim: It was euphoric and I loved it. I remember going to the football game and sitting in the stands with the crowd of kids that I have set with many times and felt totally alone and uncomfortable. That night was different. I talked to a few girls and was very much more social. I found the answer
Me: Did you tell anyone what your sister was doing to you? How long did that carry on?
Jim: No I never told anybody.
She abused one of my friends with me a couple of times. He’s the only one whoever knew until I worked The steps outlined in the book Alcoholics Anonymous. She abused me physically until the age of 13. The mental abuse was horrific. I can remember her coming to my junior high school in a bikini and walking through the girls PE class asking “Do you any of you know Jimmy Beck”
One of the worst days of my life. The sexual abuse ended when I was eight years old and I could run away and kind of knew what she was doing. Before that I was naïve and vulnerable. The last day of the physical abuse took place in my kitchen. I was 13 years old and was getting ready to play baseball game with my spike cleats on. She came at me like she had done many times before but this time I fought back and fought back hard. I remember sinking my metal cleats into her flesh. That was a great day for me.
Not such a good day for her.
Me: Oh Beck … You found the strength to do that, why did you not tell anyone?
Jim: Probably because of the reason why many victims of sexual abuse do it. Embarrassment and fear.
Me: Very true. Ok. So you found alcohol and were wary of drugs – what was your first drug and how did you feel crossing that line you’d mentally drawn?
Jim: The first drug I did was marijuana. It was outside my school with my good friend Rick and two girls. I hadn’t planned on doing it but I kind of liked the one girl who was doing it so I did it. Peer pressure driven by lust I guess. LOL. I remember after doing it I went into ceramics class. I felt like my head was the size of a basketball and couldn’t stop laughing. I loved it. I smoked pot every day after that for the next 30 years. I loved it
Me: You know when people say ‘Pot is a gateway drug’ and other people laugh at that? I’ve always believed that’s true. Not because you want to shove a needle in your arm after you smoke pot, but because you’ve gone from being a non-drug user to a drug user. It’s easier to take it to the next level. Do you agree or disagree?
Jim: I sort of agree. I think alcohol is the gateway drug honestly. At least two harder drugs for me. The one thing being involved with marijuana does do, it puts you in places where other drugs are being used and distributed. If you stay in the barbershop long enough you’re going to get a freaking haircut you know
Me: I tend to think that when you’re not thinking straight, and your inhibitions are down, you’re more willing to do something stupid. But yeah – I know. So, Jim went from pot to ….?
Jim: I think the next drug I did was cocaine probably when I was 15. Again I loved it! From the age of 15 to 19 I used cocaine probably on a weekly basis. Not during the week very often. At that same time I started using LSD mushrooms speed and anything else I could get my hands on. I’m a garbage can
Me: Were you still at home at 19? There’s a Hawaii story somewhere here. From 15 to 19, who was putting a roof over your head?
Jim: I lived with my dad until I graduated high school when I was 17. Then I moved to Phoenix Arizona and went to diesel mechanic school. Lots of pot smoking and partying in there. I did graduate with almost straight A’s. When I move back to California I am immediately got a job doing my profession and live with my mother at that time. Free rent meant more money for cocaine on the weekends you know. It was all about The party. At that time I acquired a fake ID when I was 19. Then the club scene started happening
And yes there is a Hawaii story. Actually a couple. My junior and senior years I went to Hawaii for the summer. I was 16 and 17 years old. Took a lot of cocaine and a backpack with my one buddy. We spent most of the time up in the cow fields collecting mushrooms and tripping. I don’t know how my parents let me do that at such a young age. Absolute insanity for sure. I’m lucky to be alive. One night I ate probably three or 4 ounces of fresh mushrooms which took away my vision. I remember praying to God please help me Lord I will never do this again if you give me out of this. The next day I did it again. One of many pleas to my God in times of desperation that I took my word back on
Me: We’re skipping something I think people ought to know – and I know you have a loving relationship with her now – but at home, during your most difficult times, your mom wasn’t exactly (or literally) there for you
Jim: Do you want me to elaborate on that?
Me: Yeah, we’re on record
Jim: My parents were real good people. My father was a fireman who worked two days on two days off. He was as good of a dad you could find. He coached me and baseball and was a father figure to many of my friends. My mother was a schoolteacher at the local elementary school. She spent 80% of the nights out gambling and staying away from the house. I think the situation with my sister was too much for her as well as being addicted to gambling. I remember many times pleading with her ‘please don’t leave me alone’ with Loretta my sister. Only to have her say I’ll be back shortly and never coming home. It was kind of a split life.
When dad was home everything was great. When dad was at work my life was hell. A living horrible hell.
When my mom divorced my dad when I was 13 they took me into a room and said that I would be living with my mother. I refused and didn’t speak to her for a year and a half. After that and throughout my life I used my mother for a place to live and for a source of money. That was all.
As I was saying I acquired a fake ID at the age of 19. I would work throughout the week earning a good income and spend it all at the bars. Red onion, Bobby Mcgees, black Angus, the hop, following the dollar drinks circuit. At this time I also was introduced to meth. This was my favorite drug I ever tried. I could work on it without the mental craziness that cocaine gave me. Everything was better with meth.
When I was 21 I had an opportunity to try out for a local college and get a football scholarship. I had been out of high school for three years and have been working as a diesel mechanic for those three years.
I tried out and got a partial scholarship my first year so I enrolled and started my college education. This is the first time in my life I had been exposed to any type of real God. The University I went to was a Christian University and part of the criteria was taking Bible classes and attending chapel. I really started to feel a closeness to a God.
In my second year of college I was on the central coast of California visiting my brother Bill with a couple of friends. We had went out the night before to a nightclub and I remember being greatly hung over.
My brother’s phone rang and it was my mom. I got on the phone and she informed me that my brother Bobby had committed suicide.
It’s still hard to talk about. He was a beautiful man and a good friend as well as a good brother. A person who when he walked in the room it just got better. He was high on cocaine and alcohol and jumped off a three-story building. I turned my back on God that day.
This event set me into a tailspin. I spent the next two years of college smoking meth and drinking to excess.
I still played football and actually did quite well at that. My senior year I was an All-American. I can remember showing up the morning of the games after being up all night drinking and using meth . Talk about feeling weird, show up to a Christian breakfast with 45 teammates that are completely sober when you’ve been up drinking and using all night. What an awful feeling that was.
Me: Why did you turn to drugs after it played a part in your brother’s death?
Jim: That’s what addicts do. I had no other coping mechanism.
I didn’t want to feel. Seeing my father bury his son is something that I will never ever ever forget. No father should ever have to bury his son and addiction makes this occur far too often.
I’m so grateful he didn’t have to bury me also
Me: Someone special came along not long after that …
Jim: yes that next summer at a local carnival in my hometown of Hacienda Heights I reconnected with a girl from high school. She was the “hottest” girl in my school. Way out of my league in high school but I had matured and gain some confidence in that area. We hit it off immediately and were inseparable.
Me: Inseparable – and what happened next? (I know WHO happened next )
Jim: After dating for a couple of years I ended up buying a house.
We moved in together and a couple of years later she had an idea she was pregnant. She went to the doctor and came back with the wonderful news she was pregnant .
Later that night my brother called me and told me my dad died.
Again I turn my back on God. Such a bittersweet day that was.
Anyways D and I had used together for the previous four years. Mostly on weekends. We loved each other very much and with the coming of my son Taylor she wanted us to quit drugs all together.
Me: Wow. Poetic irony. A death and a life. So – you were still using and D decided baby was coming and time to change … did you quit?
Jim: I promised her I would. I did quit using with her. Instead I just used by myself.
The relationship began to splinter and after a few more years she gave me an ultimatum. I chose drugs.
She met another man very quickly and move to Ohio.
I maintained custody of my son in California, (because you can’t move a child out of state unless you prove the other parent ‘unfit’, I was unfit, but functional).
This was such a horrible time in my life. I was using every day commuting to work, getting my son into daycare everyday and trying to take care of him.
I was falling way short. I remember one time getting in a high-speed chase with the police with my son asleep on the seat next to me. I ended up pulling into a driveway and the police drove by.
I made the decision that day that my son would be moving to Ohio with his mom.
Me: Do you think looking back. that you CHOSE to use? Or was the addiction too strong?
Jim: I have the mentality of this is who I am. I can quit at any time but I choose to use. I have a job, I have a house, I have two cars, I pay all my bills, and that’s what matters.
Me: I’ve seen videos of you and your wife and your son – you seemed so normal, so happy, but were using – fast forward. How long did you use meth?
Jim: I used meth from the age of 19 to the age of 31 when I move to Ohio to raise my son. The only reason I didn’t keep using meth is because I couldn’t find it. But I had no problem finding cocaine there which I have used on a regular basis.
But it wouldn’t be the last time that meth ruled my life. I’ll touch on that in a minute
At this point in time in my life I had given up on any type of life. I just wanted to be a dad and help raise my son. I partied like a rock star when I wasn’t with my son and then on the weekends when I did have him I wouldn’t drink or use any type of cocaine or that type of drug. I did smoke pot when he was in my custody though
Me: I know how much you love your son – I want to touch on the juxtaposition between loving people and the grip that addiction has on a person – you were trying moderation – how did that work out for you?
(I have to stop here – I was multi-tasking between translating to the blog and the interview – and while posting his photos – I was crying my eyes out. I called him. “This is hard” I said. “I see this kid – and he’s holding a beer – and I know what he’s been through – and I know how it ends, but I love this person and it’s so HARD!” “I’m in the middle of a sentence” he says. LOL! Let’s carry on.)
Jim: My moderation button is broke. I’ve never had two beers, I’ve never smoked a hit of weed, I’ve never just done a couple lines. Once I activate there is no stopping me until my run is over. I fell way short and those years of being a really good dad.. I spent most of my money on drinking and cocaine. I ran up bar tabs and had to pay them on payday in order to keep drinking for the next week. I remember borrowing money from my son on Sundays and paying him double the next week so that I could drink on Sunday night. I guess I did teach him about interest.
I lost so many really good jobs in my lifetime. My capability of making money was very high but I could never get the good job because I could never drug test.
This was the darkest time in my life in Ohio. I really didn’t fit in there. I didn’t like a lot of the people. I had an opportunity to work in California when I was 43 years old. I packed up a few bags in my car and told my son I would be back in a month. I never went back to my place and didn’t see my son for four years. I came to California picked up the meth pipe and couldn’t put it down.
In those four years I never paid rent. Are used up all my friendships sleeping on couches and getting by however I could. I used to live and lived to use.

Me: I know that ‘enough is enough’ is not enough. You have to want it. What was you’re “I’m done”? Tell me about that journal …
Jim: The journal I wrote in a $1 million house in Simi Valley that I had been squatting in for almost a year. Squatting is living in the residence and not paying rent. I had met a woman who was growing marijuana out of the house and I was doing work for her. She got arrested and I moved into the house and rented out five bedrooms to local college students. I sold meth out of the master bedroom. Overlooking the whole valley, I was King of the Hill. After being in the house for eight or nine months without paying mortgage, the bank finally was closing on the house. I had been living with a girl there named M and she had tried to get sober a few times. I took her to rehab once, but she got out and used immediately.
Me: Then what?
Jim: I remember knowing that I was being kicked out of this house and had nowhere to go. No friends, no money, no self-respect, no hope.
On January 3, 2008 I dropped M off and she went into rehab again. The bank came and took the house and I was homeless in the San Fernando Valley where I hit my worst bottom. I was shoplifting, slinging dope and doing any kind of hustle to live. I was living in various abandoned garages and flop houses.
Me: Were you thinking of your son? Of your family? Were you a ‘Loser’ at this point?
Jim: Finally one night one of the man who I was living with, an ex marine 6’2, 290 pounds thought I had screwed his girlfriend and kick me out onto the street. That night I spent the night in a car I broken into. The next morning I called my best friend who had called me “you’re a loser” a year before and told me not to call him until I was done. That day I made the choice. I was fucking done. I didn’t know how I was going to do it. But I was going to fucking do it!!!!!
Me: What did ‘DONE’ mean to you at that moment? And when did you write that journal entry?
Jim: I had written in the journal five months before when M was first trying to get sober. She had left me for the fourth or fifth or sixth time because I ran out of dope.
(M has almost 6 years clean and sober as of publication)
She would leave to her ex dealer boyfriend and steal money and dope from him and bring it back for us.
I wanted to change at the time I wrote the journal but I needed a little lower bottom my guess. The day when I called my friend it was March 12 of 2009
My friend picked me up that morning on the streets. He drove me to the town in Arizona where my mother lived. I crawled into bed for two weeks and didn’t move. I had been on a 4 1/2 year meth run.
I went to the local mental health facility in my moms town. I entered an outpatient program and begin to attend narcotics anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. After a month in the outpatient program I qualified to go to a 30 day rehab in Prescott Arizona. Hillside recovery center.
In my time there, there was over 30 addicts and alcoholics. I was only one of the few who took it seriously. Within a couple months of being out everyone had relapsed except for me.
Me: I know the outcome to this story – Beck – what were some of the goals you wrote in one of the journal entries?
Jim: As I wrote in the journal I just wanted to quit hurting the people who loved me.
I wanted to be there for my son.
I wanted to have peace in my life.
I didn’t want to lie anymore.
I didn’t want to steal anymore.
I knew I could get a job, a good job if I could just stay clean and sober.
I wanted to be helpful to others and use my experience to help others.
I was a perfect fit for Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous.
Deep down inside me was a person who just wanted to be good.
I had nothing when I hit my bottom. I had the clothes on my back and my dog Roscoe. That’s it.
At around 90 days sober I chose to move back to California.
With God in my recovery I have lost fear and began to believe in myself.
I came to Thousand Oaks California and got a sponsor an Alcoholics Anonymous. I worked the 12 steps and dealt with so many things that had ruled my life.
I dealt with the issues I had with my mother and sister. I finally grieved the death of my father and my brother. I finally had peace and serenity in my life.
Me: What do you have now?
Jim: My life is so much different now. The mother who I had such resentment for , I am her caretaker. The sister who abused me, I’ve forgiven and she acknowledged what she had done to me.
Huge step in my life.
I now have a great relationship with my son and I’m able to help him through college and take him on vacations. I’ve been able to make amends to him as well as the rest of my family. I have my friends back in my life now. I have a great job making more money than I ever have in my life.
Me: It was just very recently that you visited the graves of your loved ones – sober.
Jim: Yes recently my best friend’s mother passed away and I was able to suit up and show up for the funeral.
Be there for him.
She was put to rest in the same cemetery as my brother and dad.
I was able to visit their graves for the first time clean and sober. For that I’m grateful. Such an emotional moment for me.
My life these days is pretty simple. I am grateful to go to work. I spend each day in recovery and try to help others to walk the road I walk. We don’t shoot our wounded in recovery, we pick them up we dust them off and we love them.
Me: For those that are struggling – those who are hurting – those who are running away and maybe not ready to stop running – or, maybe just speak to Jim at 8 – what do you have to say?
Jim: Never lose hope. Find a God of your own understanding. Try to help others. In helping others we are less interested in ourselves which is a good thing.
It’s not what somebody can do for me these days, it’s what I can do for somebody else.
(Note: If you or someone you care about is suffering from addiction – seek help. It doesn’t have to be a 12 step program. Any program that focuses on recovery and therapy will be of help! The person you love, if willing, will explore their own path … ‘God’ in the blog owner’s interpretation is a power greater than self. Do not let religion or lack thereof, stop you from believing there is a solution to your problem. Science is a higher power, Faith is a higher power – Nature is a higher power, a group with like minded goals is a higher power. If you need help, get it! You can Contact Me and I can put you in touch with Jim if you like.)
Musings from the Laundromat: Baby in the corner and Butters in the bath
Eek! Totally out of my comfort zone. I have been relegated to a free-standing table, not my usual one that is snuggled up close to a line of washers.
I feel like a deer standing in the middle of a meadow – no tree cover! Here is where I sit.
It’s official, baby is IN the corner.
(Do you know, I’ve never watched that entire movie? I’ve also never seen all of Top Gun nor any of the Matrix movies.)
I wanted to photograph some sheep on the Indian reservation for you today – I stopped by the area and asked which field they were in – but I guess they’re gone.
Then I pulled into the parking lot here and only 1 car! I was surprised to find a lot of people inside though. Is there a secret parking lot I’m not privy to?? Or were they all dropped off? Hmmm …
Here’s newspaper man.
In MY spot. (lol)
Then I spied Santa folding his little washcloth. Or maybe it’s Rudolph’s – who knows..
Anyway, lots to do when I get home.
It’s Butters bath day today. Oh how I wish I could somehow capture that whole experience for you in photos/video. It starts with me giving off nonchalant ‘bath vibes’ that she picks up on immediately.
We proceed to play “C’mon!” and “Ok! I give up” for 5 minutes as I try to catch her. Then when I finally do, (and usually it’s in a part of the house the furthest FROM the damn tub) I scoop her up (Like a bag of unevenly packaged potatoes) and carry 70 pounds of manatee (very ungracefully) to the bathroom.
The actual bath is adorable. She rests her ginormous lips on the side of the tub, knowing mom isn’t going to get any water in her eyes or ears and looks up at me with gratitude.
By the time it’s “All done!” she’s sort of sad we are.
I clean her little ears out and rub her as dry as I can while she wiggles and tries to bite the towel.
After hopping out of the tub she’s happy. I wish she would remember that ‘happy’ and associate it with the word ‘bath’ – it would make things a LOT easier.
I mean, if someone said to me “Cake time!” I’d sure as hell remember how delightful cake was. I’d be following that person directly to the cake.
So why does my intelligent dog – who knows the words ‘hot dog’ ‘cookie’ and ‘outside’ very well – not put the word ‘bath’ together with the experience of being scrubbed and petted and clean and happy?! Canine mystery.
Time to fold – so I wish you a happy Sunday and may all your bath times be good ones!
Minimal Parenting State of Frustration
Come on down folks!
You can carry concealed weapons with no license AND it’s a Minimal Parenting State!
Seriously.
My frustration level today was at a full Spinal Tap 11.
I had my annual property inspection this morning.
All went well. Considering I’m a goody two shoes and have been cleaning like an OCD queen for a year, there wasn’t really any doubt about that.
Feels intrusive though – taking photos of every room – my bedroom, all my precious things. (almost expected them to bring in a table with stirrups for a full examination) The bathrooms – our towels and toiletries. Even Butters!!!
Don’t get me wrong, the people who manage the property I live in are really nice. I also understand why the homeowner is well within his or her right to know what condition their investment is in.
I’m just saying the inspection itself feels like a cell check. A reminder that where you are is not yours – and someone else has a set of keys and a set of rules.
Speaking of rules.
This was also my time to mention anything that needed fixing etc.
Well, other than some minor items, an obvious thing that needs fixing is the behavior of ‘the neighbors’.
Both homes are owned by the same person and managed by the same company.
I brought up recent events (the dog’s appearance, the witnessed dog abuse, the traffic/drug-likelihood continuance, yelling at the children)
I bring it up because I can’t escape it!
I’m no Mrs. Kravitz!! I’m not a ‘Curtain Twitcher’ (as my Nannie would say)
Every room I spend a lot of time in (kitchen, living room, bedroom) have windows directly facing ‘them’.
Walls are thin – I hear every car, every verbal barb from my couch – I assure you, I am not pressed against the wall with my ear to a cup.
I cannot enjoy the sanctuary that ‘home’ should be with the uncomfortable dysfunction constantly on display.
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Fast forward.
I told the inspector that I was done.
It doesn’t seem fair that I follow the rules, and can’t enjoy my home to the fullest.
I received an email at work from the landlord.
She was going to call CPS and if they did not renew the tenancy, would I consider staying?
Wow.
Yeah – of course. (I actually wasn’t intending to leave.)
The yard is a great size for Butters – I don’t feel like her barking interferes with anyone (no direct neighbors that we’re butted up against) and I’ve been in the home for 4 years and am settled. The inspector today kept saying how cozy I’d made the place. And it’s true.
It is cozy.
If you can shut out the world and just be in the moment – it’s a hell of a homey, cozy place to be.
I received another email from the landlord.
Apparently, the State I live in is a ‘minimal parenting’ State.
Huh?!?!
What is this, and why didn’t I know about this when Nic was under 18?
You mean I didn’t have to supply love, entertainment, attention to his education etc??? What the hell?
I joke of course.
The landlady had an example for me, and I quote:
“Do you know that if someone is dealing drugs out of their home and they are not doing it in front of the children and the drugs are locked up so the kids cannot get to them that it is not a danger and therefore they cannot do anything!!”
Wow.
There was another example:
“I was dumbfounded when I asked her what would constitute getting them involved and the responses made me so mad! She told me that if someone had dog feces all over there floor, with children in the house, that if the children were crawling through it or at an age to still not understand not to put it in their mouth that would be an issue.
If the same situation occurred and the child was 6 or 7 and knew not to put it in their mouth that would not be an issue. I don’t understand how that cannot be health and safety????!!!!!”
Again, Wow.
We went back and forth and exchanged exasperation and ideas. I finally mentioned that the dog’s waste is not picked up and is located amongst the childrens backyard toys.
Two are under 6.
Grasping at straws I know!
That failing, they could at least call ‘the neighbors’ out on the unofficial dog and we can get that innocent party out of the mix.
In order to keep Butters, I MUST have renters insurance and had to put a pet deposit down. They should have to do the same!
And I don’t say that in a ‘wah wah’ tantrum way … I say it because it is NOT fair that there are people who follow rules and people who don’t and the ones who don’t seem to get away with it.
I think (especially before Christmas) that might be something they won’t want to do and they’ll opt to relinquish the dog.
It should have no problem finding a home – it’s a sweetheart.
What keeps returning to my thoughts though is how on earth is anyone supposed to prevent a tragedy?
The minute a child is killed or found in a disgusting environment, strangers comment ‘why didn’t anyone DO anything about this?’ And they tut and sneer and judge. (I know I have.)
Well people, guess what? I bet someone TRIED to do something and there were no avenues for them to take.
I’ve called the Sheriff.
I’ve advised the landlord.
CPS has been spoken to.
And as I type, I’m still across from that family – and unless someone is seen walking out of their house holding a bag of drugs or they beat their children in the middle of the street – or they … gawd, what?
Unless they WHAT??
What IS it going to take to finally do them in?
I don’t know.
But I only want the best for those three children and for that pup.
And yeah – call me crazy – but I still only want the best for the flipping parents too. Because they were once children. Whatever makes them capable of being the way they are and lashing out the way they do – needs fixing.
I only want the best for EVERYONE!
Related posts:
The Help and how I almost didn’t
Porch Sounds – what about the children?
It does snow in Africa
Aw the new version is out … So I must delve into the archives and shake this one out.
A friend mentioned a song yesterday on her Facebook page. It was Band Aid’s ‘Do they know it’s Christmas’.
Think I’ve mentioned before that I really might need to work on using my edit button. (Says the owner of the ‘Shut-up Buddha’). Here my friend was feeling warm and fuzzy and having memories flooding back and I just had to click on the comment box.
That song is the first of two that drive me bananas! Don’t get me wrong, very catchy tunes – love the artists – this is strictly lyric related.
Let’s take a look at a couple of lines shall we?
“And the Christmas bells that ring there, are the clanging chimes of doom,
well tonight thank God it’s them, instead of you”.
WTH? “Chin up Africa, better you than me eh?”
I don’t think praying and saying ‘thank you’ for your blessings is quite the same…
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