I Wanna be a Songwriter.

I've always loved to write, whatever. And I was fine with that, with just loving to write, until Saturday night when I went to see a band play in Springfield with my friend Lori.
We got to sit in the front, and I really listened to the lyrics of the songs.
And I thought, holy shit, this guy expresses what I'm feeling pretty well.
Now, having songs that fit your mood or lyrics that describe what you're going through is certainly nothing new. That's kind of the secret to the success of a band, that question of, can people relate? Can you reach people with your words by touching something deep (or maybe not so deep) inside them that makes them think, oh my God, they GET me, and become your fans?
But in the case of the songwriter, it's not just the words. It's the music that accompanies them. If you can't grab them with your lyrics, grab them with your beat. In that perfect case, grab them with both and feel like a god.
I got a little music envy, really, watching. I can write about things, and I LOVE music. But I'm hopeless at putting them together. Ten years of piano lessons and one night of my son trying to teach me to play the guitar does not, much as I want to believe otherwise, make me a musician.
But if I were to write that song, and set it to music, the lyrics would have something to do with change, and being tired, and not believing in something anymore that you once thought was the only thing you could count on. And how you just want to leave, despite of how much it terrifies you, and about how you're too jaded to believe that people can really change but admitting that to yourself kind of makes you think you've given up on people altogether. And if you can't have a connection with people, then what have you got?
And as for the beat, I'd say I'd want it to be something angry. Well, angry in the chorus. Maybe softer in the beginning, just enough to trick a listener into thinking that it's a slow song, then hit them with it. And they're like, whoa, I didn't see THAT coming. What a multi-faceted songwriter that is! I'd like to quit my job and follow her around the country.
Whoa. Sorry. I kind of let that one get away from me. I don't think I'd want somebody actually quitting their job and following me around the country, now that I think about it. That's kind of creepy.
I feel like I should also mention that I can't sing. And by that I mean I can't sing well. So if I were the one singing, it would have to be more of a throaty, raging yell. Or a mocking, smirky, speaking-singing delivery.
Not that I've thought about it.
But definitely angry. I feel like singing and playing a song that I wrote and put music to would be so cathartic that it might even drive the anger out. Or at least abate it somewhat. Writing is cleansing, but delivering that writing with a wailing guitar and hardcore drumbeat, now that, man, THAT would be amazing.
I don't so much know what my hypothetical band would be called, or even who would be in it. One thing at a time. Don't rush me!
I just want to have a song. Just a song.

Arming Our Teachers: Really?

Is it enough for teachers to be teachers, or should they also be prepared to defend the lives of their charges by any means necessary?


With the recent shocking violence of the Sandy Hook shooting, as well as the perception that there is increased gun violence in our schools, the debate rages about just how proactive our teachers should be. Is it enough that they are molding young minds, or should they also be prepared to protect those young minds and allow them to survive? Is it fair to ask such a thing of our educators, many of whom just want to teach and not be expected to defend themselves and their young charges by any means necessary?


Parents want to believe that their children are safe in school. School, after all, is supposed to be reliable. It’s supposed to protect. It is historically the very definition of nourishment, of the mind and the body. The perception has long been that school is a safe haven. If teachers and administrators are defenseless against violent perpetrators, why shouldn’t parents be afraid to leave their children at school anymore? Why shouldn’t they want to know that their children will be protected if someone tries to force his or her way in with a weapon?
This isn’t just about the students, either. They are young and defenseless within the walls of the school, but unarmed teachers are equally defenseless. The teachers should have a right to decide whether or not they will be sitting ducks, so to speak. They should be allowed to have a plan to protect those of whom they are in charge, in addition to protecting themselves.
Why are teachers the exception? Anyone with a concealed weapons permit can carry their weapon with them. Why can’t teachers be allowed this same privilege in the classroom? For students’ peace of mind, for parents’ peace of mind, and for administrators’ peace of mind, it is important that teachers be allowed to defend their classrooms in instances of attack.


Giving a teacher a gun does not guarantee the safety of anyone – not the child, and not the teacher. If anything, arming teachers presents the potential for more senseless violence. If a teacher is not familiar with handling a gun, or is not comfortable with being told that they must be prepared to fight and to kill in order to do their job, it is absolutely not fair to expect them to do so.
Additionally, who is to say that an innocent person won’t be hurt or killed? If a gun is easily accessible to a teacher, why couldn’t a student find and handle it too? If the gun is locked up away from students, then how is it feasible to have in the classroom? The teacher would have to be able to get to it, point it, aim it and shoot it in a very short amount of time, all of that with adrenaline rushing and students highly agitated. To have a plan to hide the students, get the students in their spots, retrieve the gun and then be able to use it effectively in a very small window of time is highly improbable at best.


Schools should absolutely have plans in place to deal with shooters. Screening for weapons or bulletproof glass are excellent ways to keep a shooter from entering the premises, either by blast or forced means, but if a person wants to come in and do harm to a group of people, they typically will find a way to do so. Providing more guns for people within the building could certainly complicate the matter, setting up a potential for a shootout situation in which innocent bystanders might be more likely to be wounded or killed. Having safeguards in place to prevent children from accessing the gun will also slow down potential response time of the teacher, time in which the shooter could do more damage.

There are too many things that could go wrong for arming teachers within the school to be a good idea. False alarms, delayed response time, and keeping children out of the line of fire are all potential negative results. There isn’t an answer that will protect every child in every circumstance. However, time and proper attention to detail may come up with workable solutions that protect the majority.
No child left behind? Maybe not, but in this case, cooler heads are better than itchy trigger fingers.

AskReddit

Do you Reddit? If you do, you have to tell me, because we will have so much to talk about.
If you don't, that's okay, because it's not for everybody. In fact, my initial foray into www.reddit.com left me unimpressed. It's not nearly as easy to delve into on a computer. Too busy. Too much going on.
I recommend the Reddit Pics app on the phone. That's a good, easy way to begin, if you're so inclined.
That's all whatever. I don't really care one way or the other. It works for me, and that's really the important thing.
What I want to talk about is the subreddit called AskReddit.
Redditors pose a question, any kind of question, and then others answer it. There are a LOT of awesome outcomes in this subreddit. For example, the worst lie your parents ever told you made me feel like the best parent ever. Here was an answer:

They told me that the ice cream truck was the music truck and it just drove around playing music to cheer people up.

They told ME that the ice cream truck only played music when it ran out of ice cream.


Are those sad or what? I loved it.

The one that really hit me yesterday, though, was this question:

If you could ask a potential date one question to determine if they were the one for you, what would it be?

There were a lot of great answers to this, but my favorite was one I would actually use. In fact, I think it's a good all-around question if you want to discover things about yourself.

Here it is.

Rank the following in order of importance to you: Career, Love, Happiness, Family, Religion, Education, Having Kids, Adventure, Politics, Drugs, Health

I have rolled that around in my mind a lot. The best I can come up with is that my last place answer is definitely Having Kids. Second to last, Drugs. Really, I'd say those two are tied for last. After that, it's a jumble. I think happiness comes first with me, but then what? Having spent some time without good health, I can tell you it's awesome to have, so that's probably second. Third is absolutely confusing. I want to say adventure and I want to say love. But politics fascinate me, and then again, I love my job at Pitt State. And I wouldn't have my job at Pitt without my education. ARGH. So many choices.

The point is, what's important to you? Mull these over. Think about who you are. And then act accordingly.

So These Are The Days My Mother Warned Me About...

I have vaguely alluded to the fact that I've had a bad run of luck recently, and not to make light of that, but come on, if you can't laugh at yourself, who CAN you laugh at?
Recently I learned that maybe I wasn't the world's best wife, mother, OR employee. Color me SHOCKED. I thought I absolutely killed all three roles. Turns out I killed them, all right. Just maybe not in the way I defined "killed."
As I enter this rebuilding phase as a parent and as a worker, I take two things from my experience.
First of all, if I'm blamed for being sub-par, part of me feels an intense desire to rebel and become just as irresponsible as I'm accused of being. If people don't believe in me, what's the point of being good?
Secondly, well, wait. I guess it's just the "first of all" part that's tugging at me today.
I am a big proponent of making your own happiness and reaching for and achieving your dreams. If something that once caused you happiness is now causing you great despair, why would you continue to make yourself miserable by marinating in that negativity?
On the other hand, there is something to be said for responsibility. For fixing what's broken and knowing that you did a job and did it well. For sticking with something even though the last thing it feels like is fun.
How do you strike that balance? How do you maintain responsibility and still have fun?
Seriously, I'm asking. Because, personally? I don't know the answer anymore.
As a parent, I'm determined to do the right thing. As a worker, my tenacity/stubbornness is keeping me from walking away. I can do this. I will do this.
But sometimes I get tired. Sometimes I couldn't give less of a shit about any of it, because I just want to relax. I just want to have fun. I just want to enjoy my life.
Working seven days a week and worrying every bit of those seven days is not fun.
The other day my son told me he just wanted to be an adult. My heart broke for him. I remembered that feeling so well when he voiced it. I thought things would be great. I thought I would have all this freedom. I thought that my life would be like a solid roller coaster of fun and sophistication.
What a child yearning to be an adult doesn't think about, because how can you know that feeling, really, until you experience it?, is that, bills. Responsibility. Work (often boring work). Aging. More worry than you know what to do with. Sleepless nights. Deadlines. Being in charge of another person.
The fun parts? Not being grounded. Going somewhere without having to ask permission first. Not being too young to do something.
Actually, being married often means having to ask permission to do things, so strike number two. Still, One and Three are pretty huge.
I was grounded a lot when I was a kid, and I should have been. I don't blame my mother for the choices she made in my upbringing. I often did at the time, but I was a stupid kid.
I just want my son to reach adulthood, and, if it's not too ambitious to add a codicil onto that, I want him to do so and still love me.
There are a lot of things I could walk away from, but my kid will never be one of them. No matter what trials life brings us, he is the absolute coolest thing I ever made.
Someday you will be an adult, son, and I hope it brings you great joy and frustration and exhilaration and anger and sadness and happiness, in ever repeating cycles that remind you periodically that you're completely, crazily ALIVE.
And all the while, your mom will be there, if not literally then certainly in spirit, and she will love you more wholly and completely than she has ever loved anything.

As California Goes...

It is a dim but steady light that shines on the possibility of a United States that will allow gay marriage.

As of November 7, 2012, gay marriage is legal in nine states: Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, Vermont, New Hampshire, New York, Maryland, Maine, and Washington, in addition to the District of Columbia.
From June until November of 2008, same-sex couples were allowed to marry in California, as well, but with the passage of Proposition 8, an amendment to the California Constitution, marriage was legally defined within the state as a union between one man and one woman. Then, in June of 2010, a federal district court declared this ban unconstitutional. The Court of Appeals upheld the ruling, and it is now being reviewed by the United States Supreme Court.
Despite these state battles, a federal measure seemed to be a long shot. However, with President Obama’s recent formal expression for support of California legalization, the ray of hope for a nationwide lifting of the ban widens slightly.

Marriage is already a precarious institution, with high divorce rates hovering between 40 and 50 percent. Allowing same-sex couples to marry would further weaken it. Additionally, people should not have to spend their hard-earned tax dollars to support something that they don’t agree with.
Not only that, but the majority of strong religious institutions in the United States do not believe in same-sex marriage, and legalizing it would put those churches in a tight spot. If they don’t believe in gay marriage, how can these administrations in good conscience allow same-sex couples to marry in their churches?
Furthermore, what is the point of same-sex couples marrying anyway if they’re unable to procreate? Isn’t marriage all about making families? Adopting a baby into a same-sex family will surely only be detrimental to that child in the long run. A well-adjusted child needs to be raised in a household with both a mother and father, not two of one or the other.

Massachusetts became the first state to legalize gay marriage, in 2004. Between 2003 and 2008, its divorce rate declined 21 percent, culminating in the state having the lowest divorce rate in the nation. The states with the highest divorce rates all currently ban same-sex marriage.
Same-sex marriage is a civil right. The 1967 Supreme Court case Loving v. Virginia confirmed that marriage is "one of the basic civil rights of man.” This is a matter for government to decide, not religion. Marriage is a secular institution, not a religious one, and as such, the church should have no place in it. There is a separation of church and state for a reason.
To say that marriage and procreation go hand-in-hand is to belittle not only gay couples, but infertile ones. The ability to produce has never been a qualification for marriage, as marriage is a union between two people, not an entire family. Additionally, for every study pointing out the detriments of a child being raised in a same-sex marriage, there is one proclaiming that children raised by same-sex parents do better socially and academically as a whole.

Regardless of the pros and cons of this debate, the fact remains that we are denying basic equal rights to a large segment of our nation’s population. It is humiliating to think that a nation as allegedly powerful and progressive as the United States will not legally recognize the desire of so many to take part in an institution so secular. One can only hope that someday this argument will be nothing more than a past embarrassment to be swept under the rug, like slavery and segregation. If two people love one another and want to marry, it should be nobody else’s business how they choose to celebrate their relationship. It should not matter if they might get divorced, or if they might adopt a child. That is their business, and as such it starts and ends with them. Perhaps the day will come when the phrase “gay marriage” is obsolete, and the single word “marriage” is used for all.

As with any big change, many baby steps must be taken first. Although it may seem as though progress is slow overall, at least the momentum appears to be gaining in favor of equality for all couples. The country’s eyes are on California now, and as history tells us, “As California goes, so goes the nation.”
One can only hope that it continues to hold true.

Happy? Anniversary

I started my day bright and early this morning; it was 2:45, to be exact. I took Zane to the airport in Kansas City, and we almost made it before I got a ticket (75 in a 65. Come ON!).
Something about the situation kept my brain tingling. Kansas City...lots of snow...something was very familiar. Even the date, March 1, kept jostling for attention in my head.
I had already dropped him off and had nearly made it back out of the city before it all slammed home.
Two years ago today, on March 1, 2011, I had eggs harvested.
Two years ago tomorrow, on March 2, 2011, I began chemotherapy.
I remember the procedure right up to the part where they knocked me out. My stomach looked like a pincushion from all the hormone shots. I was crying roughly five times per hour, at everything; the sky, the way somebody looked at me, the bloated feeling all those shots gave me.
One thing I never cried about in that time, curiously, was having cancer. Call it a happy little bubble of denial. Call it whatever you want.
I was just glad that I got through it without throwing a giant pity party. I didn't even throw a little one.
Of course, had I known then what I know now, I would never have had to have that procedure. If anybody needs some frozen eggs, by the way, I know where six are that you can totally have. Maybe a little freezer-burnt, but other than that, really fine specimens.
I guess. I never met them or anything. I'm just going by what the doctor told me.
And once I got those eggs harvested, I didn't want to wait even one more minute to start chemo. I called Via Christi and begged them to move it up so that I could get crackin'. They obliged, and so it was that I went from one procedure to the next before I had too much time to think about what was happening.
Have you ever gone through something that, at the time, didn't seem like it was anything, but later, you can't imagine how you got through it? Yeah, that was cancer.
It sucked, but it seemed like I had the best possible experience with it anyone could have. I had an amazing circle of support. I had Sarah Burkybile and Marilyn Edmonds to coach me through each step. I had an incredible family (still do).
All of that love and light in my everyday environment helped fill me with determination, even as I got the ever loving shit kicked out of me by all of that poison.
Two years down. I'm no math scholar, but that means I'm two-fifths of the way to survivor status. I don't want to tempt fate, but I am just as much, if not more, determined to beat this thing once and for all than I have ever been.
I have things to do. I have a kid who is going to graduate before I know it.
I have a master's degree to snag.
I have a doctorate to get after that.
My third book isn't going to finish itself (much as I wish it would).
My other goals are much more personal, but that doesn't make them any less real.
The point is, even if you "beat" cancer, it never really leaves you. It whispers after you at the oddest times. It reminds you of its presence every time you pay a medical bill.
I remember it every time I have my blood pressure taken and remember the cuff has to go on the left arm.
I remember it every time I see my scar, or my radiation tattoos.
I remember it every time I fill out a form that asks for past hospitalizations.
We will be together forever, in some form, and I have accepted that.
Still, though, two years feels pretty damn good.
And I still enjoy every sandwich.