"Will you still love me tomorrow?"
The Shirelles asked this question in their 1960 hit of the same name. While they were asking about a romantic relationship, I think the question, or a variant on it, is a good one to ask.
Recently, social media celebrated "Blackout Tuesday". People put up black squares as their avatar, passed around the hashtag #blackouttuesday, #blacklivesmatter, and other similar slogans. (A backlash attempt, "whiteness Wednesday", backfired when K-Pop fans stormed Twitter and posted K-Pop videos with that hashtag.)
I looked at the hashtags, and the posts, and thought, this is a good gesture, but what about tomorrow?
To call these last few weeks "convulsive" is a bit of an understatement. We're dealing with coronavirus, a very contentious election, and now, more violence of whites against blacks, and specifically, white police officers against black suspects.
I've heard of and seen wave after wave of protests across the country. I know people who have participated in peaceful protests. I have heard people say "we are sorry", "we repent," and I have heard African-Americans say, "I'm exhausted," "I'm beyond exhausted." In our virtual lobby last Sunday, an African-American woman spoke of her feelings about recent events, and you could hear the exhaustion in her voice and see it in her demeanor.
But people cannot march in protest forever. No one can keep up the level of intensity that's permeated this country for the last several weeks. Eventually, the public protests will die down and hashtags will not be trending quite as much.
What then?
What are you planning to do tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, to fight racism and other sins in our country?
Today, the hashtag is on your Facebook and Twitter posts.
But will you still hashtag tomorrow?
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Statcounter
Friday, June 19, 2020
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
Spiritual Echolocation
“Joy still comes in the morning.”
I heard this line in a song on my car radio this morning, while taking my husband to work. Yes, my husband has gone back to work for the first time since March!
On the way back, I asked myself, “Joy still comes in the morning, but what do you do when the night seems so long? When there’s no light except for the occasional teasing of the sun, like the perpetual twilight people in Alaska live in for so many months out of the year?”
These last few weeks have been some of the most convulsive our country has ever seen. I know there have been worse times in our country’s history (Civil War comes to mind). But these last few weeks and months? The isolation of coronavirus turned our world upside down and inside out, and then the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd — and now, the shooting of Rayshard Brooks by an Atlanta police officer — has burst open the abscess of racism in this country. It is not a clean surgery, either.
What do you do when there is no light at the end of the tunnel, not even the headlight of an oncoming train?
Whenever you take a tour of a cave, inevitably, there is the moment when the tour guide turns off the lights so that you can “see” what it is really like underground. If you want the definition of “ink-like blackness”, that is it. You can see nothing but black. There’s no light for your eye to catch or to focus on. It is truly terrifying. You don’t dare move, you don’t dare take one step because you have no way of knowing if you will put your feet on solid ground or go hurtling down into an abyss.
What do you do?
Bats and other creatures who live in caves, who live in that sort of darkness, use what is called echolocation. Since they can’t see, they use sound to navigate their way in the darkness. The sounds they make bounce off of walls and help them find their way. Dolphins and whales also use echolocation to navigate in the ocean. Sonar uses the same principles.
I wonder if there’s such a thing as spiritual echolocation that helps us find our way in the dark, when we can’t see the joy that will come in the morning.
When the coronavirus really started to hit, it was March, right before the beginning of spring. I kept saying to myself, spring will come, spring always comes. Even in the middle of coronavirus, spring will come.
Well, spring came; and now it’s only four days until the beginning of summer. And we are still dealing with the effects of coronavirus and now we are dealing with the open abscess of racism.
But spring comes, summer comes; summer will turn into fall and fall into winter. God promised, after Noah left the ark, that summer and winter would not cease as long as the earth endured.
Right now is a time of darkness for so many of us. The night is long and we don’t think morning will come. Maybe you’re there right now. I’ve been there and probably will be there again.
Maybe now, if we can’t see, maybe now is the time to use some spiritual echolocation. Make some noise. Pray. Scream if you have to. Then wait for the sound to bounce back. Listen. Listen for what God might be telling you. Maybe it’s nothing more than, I’ve got this; or, remember what I have done for you before.
Spring does come, even in the middle of a pandemic. So does summer. So will fall, so will winter. Sunrise does follow sunset. Even in areas of Alaska, where there is perpetual twilight during so many months of the year, the morning does come.
Joy does come in the morning. But while we’re waiting for morning, let’s practice some spiritual echolocation. Because God is there for the sound waves to bounce off of.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
I heard this line in a song on my car radio this morning, while taking my husband to work. Yes, my husband has gone back to work for the first time since March!
On the way back, I asked myself, “Joy still comes in the morning, but what do you do when the night seems so long? When there’s no light except for the occasional teasing of the sun, like the perpetual twilight people in Alaska live in for so many months out of the year?”
These last few weeks have been some of the most convulsive our country has ever seen. I know there have been worse times in our country’s history (Civil War comes to mind). But these last few weeks and months? The isolation of coronavirus turned our world upside down and inside out, and then the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd — and now, the shooting of Rayshard Brooks by an Atlanta police officer — has burst open the abscess of racism in this country. It is not a clean surgery, either.
What do you do when there is no light at the end of the tunnel, not even the headlight of an oncoming train?
Whenever you take a tour of a cave, inevitably, there is the moment when the tour guide turns off the lights so that you can “see” what it is really like underground. If you want the definition of “ink-like blackness”, that is it. You can see nothing but black. There’s no light for your eye to catch or to focus on. It is truly terrifying. You don’t dare move, you don’t dare take one step because you have no way of knowing if you will put your feet on solid ground or go hurtling down into an abyss.
What do you do?
Bats and other creatures who live in caves, who live in that sort of darkness, use what is called echolocation. Since they can’t see, they use sound to navigate their way in the darkness. The sounds they make bounce off of walls and help them find their way. Dolphins and whales also use echolocation to navigate in the ocean. Sonar uses the same principles.
I wonder if there’s such a thing as spiritual echolocation that helps us find our way in the dark, when we can’t see the joy that will come in the morning.
When the coronavirus really started to hit, it was March, right before the beginning of spring. I kept saying to myself, spring will come, spring always comes. Even in the middle of coronavirus, spring will come.
Well, spring came; and now it’s only four days until the beginning of summer. And we are still dealing with the effects of coronavirus and now we are dealing with the open abscess of racism.
But spring comes, summer comes; summer will turn into fall and fall into winter. God promised, after Noah left the ark, that summer and winter would not cease as long as the earth endured.
Right now is a time of darkness for so many of us. The night is long and we don’t think morning will come. Maybe you’re there right now. I’ve been there and probably will be there again.
Maybe now, if we can’t see, maybe now is the time to use some spiritual echolocation. Make some noise. Pray. Scream if you have to. Then wait for the sound to bounce back. Listen. Listen for what God might be telling you. Maybe it’s nothing more than, I’ve got this; or, remember what I have done for you before.
Spring does come, even in the middle of a pandemic. So does summer. So will fall, so will winter. Sunrise does follow sunset. Even in areas of Alaska, where there is perpetual twilight during so many months of the year, the morning does come.
Joy does come in the morning. But while we’re waiting for morning, let’s practice some spiritual echolocation. Because God is there for the sound waves to bounce off of.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Friday, June 5, 2020
"Oh, hell no."
"Oh, hell no."
That was the response that one woman put on another woman's Facebook post.
C. is a Christian woman. She's African-American, a single parent to a wonderful teenage boy. I know them both.
Yesterday, she wrote that someone she knew posted the following on Facebook.
"All of this could have been prevented if:
1. George Floyd would have used an actual $20 bill and not to try to pass off a counterfeit bill.
"All of this could have been prevented if:
1. George Floyd would have used an actual $20 bill and not to try to pass off a counterfeit bill.
2. Gave the cigarettes back to the store when they asked for it.
I don't agree how the officers handle [sic] the situation. I believe all of them should and have been held responsible for there [sic] actions. They all have been arrested and charged. There has been a lot of lives and business lost over something that could have been prevented."
C. went on to write, "I really wonder if people understand how much this hurts." Then added: "I am tired of the justifications ... if if if . . . He was murdered on camera over eight minutes."
J., another woman, who's white, and whom C. and I also know, wrote the following in reply:
"Oh hell no. Y'all. It's time to take back the church from this kind of co-opted, tone deaf, insulated Americanism. No. No more."
"Oh hell no. Y'all. It's time to take back the church from this kind of co-opted, tone deaf, insulated Americanism. No. No more."
Some of you that read that sentence are going to be offended at her use of the term, "Hell no." After all, she's a follower of Jesus and she shouldn't swear, right?
I'm reminded of a quote attributed to preacher Tony Campolo:
"I have three things I'd like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don't give a $%*&. What's worse is that you're more upset with the fact that I said $%^& than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night."
We Christians, especially us white, American Christians, are very touchy when it comes to certain subjects. We're especially touchy when it comes to sex and swearing. We don't want to talk about sex because it might encourage kids to do it. And we especially don't want people to swear around us because it offends us. Not because it's offensive, but because it offends us. There's a difference.
I am sick and tired of our white-bread, sugar-coated Christianity that emphasizes a shallow theology composed of "accept Jesus into your heart, and here's five ways to be a better Christian (man, woman, wife, husband fill-in-the-blank)." Like the audiences Tony Campolo spoke to, we are more offended by swearing, sex, and the lack of prayer in schools than we are about poverty, racism, domestic violence, and the general poor treatment of people of people in our society. We'd rather have our greed and our appetites filled than have any sort of care and compassion about those whose bank accounts and stomachs are empty.
We women, especially, are encouraged to buy our pink, lace-covered Bibles with soft, breathy sayings from the current celebrity de jour of Christianity. We're encouraged to keep a clean house and homeschool our many children and are shamed when we can't/don't.
I'm reminded of a quote attributed to preacher Tony Campolo:
"I have three things I'd like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don't give a $%*&. What's worse is that you're more upset with the fact that I said $%^& than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night."
We Christians, especially us white, American Christians, are very touchy when it comes to certain subjects. We're especially touchy when it comes to sex and swearing. We don't want to talk about sex because it might encourage kids to do it. And we especially don't want people to swear around us because it offends us. Not because it's offensive, but because it offends us. There's a difference.
I am sick and tired of our white-bread, sugar-coated Christianity that emphasizes a shallow theology composed of "accept Jesus into your heart, and here's five ways to be a better Christian (man, woman, wife, husband fill-in-the-blank)." Like the audiences Tony Campolo spoke to, we are more offended by swearing, sex, and the lack of prayer in schools than we are about poverty, racism, domestic violence, and the general poor treatment of people of people in our society. We'd rather have our greed and our appetites filled than have any sort of care and compassion about those whose bank accounts and stomachs are empty.
We women, especially, are encouraged to buy our pink, lace-covered Bibles with soft, breathy sayings from the current celebrity de jour of Christianity. We're encouraged to keep a clean house and homeschool our many children and are shamed when we can't/don't.
I don't plan to make a habit of swearing. It is offensive and indulging in a steady diet of cuss words is a bit like eating junk food for every meal. Lay's and Fritos taste good, but after a while, they make your body sick. We Christians should be better than this.
But isn't it time to lay aside our sugar coating, our white bread, our lacy pink Bibles, and confront our sin and engage in some serious repentance, on our knees and maybe on our faces?
But isn't it time to lay aside our sugar coating, our white bread, our lacy pink Bibles, and confront our sin and engage in some serious repentance, on our knees and maybe on our faces?
I don't know if George Floyd knew that the $20 bill he handed to a cashier was counterfeit or not. (I probably would not know the difference between a real and counterfeit $20 bill.) I've heard reports that "he was a criminal who was turning his life around". I've also read where he had fentanyl in his system at the time of death. I've read that he was positive for COVID-19.
Even if he had a criminal past, even if he had committed a crime, even if he was resisting arrest, does that give anyone the justification to put their knee on another person's neck for eight minutes and 46 seconds while that person is saying "I can't breathe"?
Even if he had a criminal past, even if he had committed a crime, even if he was resisting arrest, does that give anyone the justification to put their knee on another person's neck for eight minutes and 46 seconds while that person is saying "I can't breathe"?
Isn't it time for us to think about how that is just one more piece of evidence that the life of a black man is not worth as much as the life of a white man?
Isn't it time for us to listen to our friends of color who are afraid to go jogging, afraid to wear a mask to the store, afraid that their teenage sons might be stopped by the police on suspicion of fill-in-the-blank and possibly shot even though they obeyed orders? (See Philandro Castile.)
Isn't it time for us to listen to our friends of color who are afraid to go jogging, afraid to wear a mask to the store, afraid that their teenage sons might be stopped by the police on suspicion of fill-in-the-blank and possibly shot even though they obeyed orders? (See Philandro Castile.)
Isn't it time to think about how what we post on social media will affect our Christian brothers and sisters of color?
Isn't it time to stand up and say, "Oh, hell no!"
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Isn't it time to stand up and say, "Oh, hell no!"
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Tuesday, June 2, 2020
Breaking the Third Commandment
Last night the President of the United States broke the Third Commandment.
He walked over to a church, after protesters in front of it had been tear-gassed, held up a Bible, and had his picture taken, after threatening to send out “thousands and thousands of troops” to stop the violence currently taking over America if the governors did not do it themselves.
If you look up a list of the Ten Commandments in the book of Exodus in the Old Testament, the Third Commandment reads, “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.” (King James Version). The New International Version reads, “You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name.”
Last night, in using the Bible and a church for a photo op, the President of the United States took two symbols of Christian America and misused them for his own purposes.
There are people who have called him “brave” and said “well done”.
No. This is not well done.
Trump used St. John’s Episcopal Church as a backdrop for his photo op. The Right Reve. Mariann Buddy, who is the bishop of Washington, D.C.’s Episcopal Diocese, said she was “not given even a courtesy call that they would be clearing with tear gas so they could use one of our churches as a prop, holding a Bible, one that declares that God is love and when everything he has said and done is to enslave violence.”
Earlier, Trump told governors on a conference call that they had to “dominate”, and take back the streets, and called them “weak”.
We have a man who died at the hands of police a week ago. We have another man who died at the hands of two white men three months ago, and it took two months for video of that murder to emerge. We have a woman who died at the hands of police who “went to the wrong house.” (Oops.). In case you have forgotten, their names are George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor.
I know of two African-Americans — people I am personally acquainted with — who are afraid to go jogging in their neighborhoods, who are afraid to wear masks when they go out. Another African-American whom I know personally has said, I don’t want to die. I just want to go home to my wife.
And our President has the chutzpah to go to a church and hold up a Bible, after demanding that governors “take back the streets” and threatening to send out “thousands and thousands of troops”.
President Trump, do you want a second Civil War?
Do you?
We Christians get very touchy at the use of certain language. We should. I find certain words offensive and I don’t like my ears and my brain being assaulted with them.
But something is terribly wrong when Christians are quick to scream about a particular word which takes the name of the Lord in vain, quick to demand prayer back in schools and the Ten Commandments posted on the walls, quick to demand that abortion be outlawed . . . and yet see nothing wrong when a President of the United States misuses the name of the Lord by using a church and a Bible to make himself look strong, tough, and Presidential.
We, indeed, have lost our compass.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Saturday, May 30, 2020
"Go home!"
"Go home!"
That was the order Atlanta mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms gave to hundreds of rioters in downtown Atlanta last night, who took advantage of a peaceful protest and turned the place into a war zone.
They eventually did go home, but not before vandalizing the CNN Center, breaking out the windows at McCormick and Schmick's, a downtown restaurant; torching several police cars, and streaming up into Buckhead, where they looted businesses around Lenox Mall and Phipps Plaza.
At the moment, it's quiet downtown, but who knows what tonight will bring?
Governor Brian Kemp has authorized 1500 National Guard troops to hopefully quell any more violence.
As I write this, there is a peaceful protest going on outside of the Governor's Mansion in Atlanta.
71 arrests were made and 20 police cars were burned last night.
What started it?
It began with a knee to the neck of George Floyd, in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Floyd had been arrested on suspicion of passing a $20 bill. He'd been handcuffed, questioned, and then, when the cops started to take him to the car, he resisted.
I don't know how he ended up on the ground with officer Derek Chauvin's knee on his neck, but Floyd pleaded, "I can't breathe . . . I can't breathe." If this story sounds familiar, those were also the last words of Eric Garner, who was placed in a chokehold by an NYPD officer, and who died as a result.
Eight minutes later, Floyd had suffocated.
Floyd was African-American. Chauvin was white.
Coming on the heels of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery and the shooting of Louisville, Kentucky resident Breonna Taylor -- shot by police who forced their way into what they later said was the wrong house -- both victims being African-American, the shooters being white -- Floyd's death was the last straw.
I have seen an outpouring of anger, rage, sorrow, and other emotions from whites and people of color this week on social media. I have seen people of color, some of whom I know in real life, who say that they do not feel safe. One young man doesn't feel safe jogging in his neighborhood anymore since the murder of Ahmaud Arbery. A mother does not feel safe wearing a mask out in public because the perception of an African-American in a mask spells "they are up to no good".
Last night, Atlanta blew up.
Atlanta was not the only city that blew up. Minneapolis blew up, the second or third night in a row it has done so. Houston blew up. Los Angeles blew up.
I am a white woman. I have a limited voice. While I have African-American friends, I can not even begin to say, yes, I know how you feel, I understand. No, I don't understand! I don't understand how people can hate people based on the color of their skin. I don't understand the roots of systemic racism and systemic discrimination.
And I am not a leader, so I don't know how to make it better.
Right now, I am listening to two women, Keshia Lance-Bottoms and Erika Shields (police chief of Atlanta, Georgia) saying in no uncertain terms that what happened last night in Atlanta will not be tolerated again. I pray that any protests stay peaceful.
I will raise my voice and add mine to Mayor Bottoms:
"If you care about this city, GO HOME!"
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
That was the order Atlanta mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms gave to hundreds of rioters in downtown Atlanta last night, who took advantage of a peaceful protest and turned the place into a war zone.
They eventually did go home, but not before vandalizing the CNN Center, breaking out the windows at McCormick and Schmick's, a downtown restaurant; torching several police cars, and streaming up into Buckhead, where they looted businesses around Lenox Mall and Phipps Plaza.
At the moment, it's quiet downtown, but who knows what tonight will bring?
Governor Brian Kemp has authorized 1500 National Guard troops to hopefully quell any more violence.
As I write this, there is a peaceful protest going on outside of the Governor's Mansion in Atlanta.
71 arrests were made and 20 police cars were burned last night.
What started it?
It began with a knee to the neck of George Floyd, in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Floyd had been arrested on suspicion of passing a $20 bill. He'd been handcuffed, questioned, and then, when the cops started to take him to the car, he resisted.
I don't know how he ended up on the ground with officer Derek Chauvin's knee on his neck, but Floyd pleaded, "I can't breathe . . . I can't breathe." If this story sounds familiar, those were also the last words of Eric Garner, who was placed in a chokehold by an NYPD officer, and who died as a result.
Eight minutes later, Floyd had suffocated.
Floyd was African-American. Chauvin was white.
Coming on the heels of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery and the shooting of Louisville, Kentucky resident Breonna Taylor -- shot by police who forced their way into what they later said was the wrong house -- both victims being African-American, the shooters being white -- Floyd's death was the last straw.
I have seen an outpouring of anger, rage, sorrow, and other emotions from whites and people of color this week on social media. I have seen people of color, some of whom I know in real life, who say that they do not feel safe. One young man doesn't feel safe jogging in his neighborhood anymore since the murder of Ahmaud Arbery. A mother does not feel safe wearing a mask out in public because the perception of an African-American in a mask spells "they are up to no good".
Last night, Atlanta blew up.
Atlanta was not the only city that blew up. Minneapolis blew up, the second or third night in a row it has done so. Houston blew up. Los Angeles blew up.
I am a white woman. I have a limited voice. While I have African-American friends, I can not even begin to say, yes, I know how you feel, I understand. No, I don't understand! I don't understand how people can hate people based on the color of their skin. I don't understand the roots of systemic racism and systemic discrimination.
And I am not a leader, so I don't know how to make it better.
Right now, I am listening to two women, Keshia Lance-Bottoms and Erika Shields (police chief of Atlanta, Georgia) saying in no uncertain terms that what happened last night in Atlanta will not be tolerated again. I pray that any protests stay peaceful.
I will raise my voice and add mine to Mayor Bottoms:
"If you care about this city, GO HOME!"
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Friday, May 15, 2020
Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 62-63
I called my BFF to vent this morning.
I feel tense and jumpy, waiting to be interrupted all.the.time.
If I wake up before my husband, I run the risk of waking HIM up. Our dressers are on the same side of the room, his side (they also serve as a divider between the bedroom area and the “office” area which I am now using.)
I KNOW the Christian homemaking books say that the wife is supposed to get up first, have her “quiet time” or “devotional time” and then fix breakfast for everyone, but both Frank and Matthew get up anywhere between 4 and 4:30. I absolutely cannot get up that early. (And a decent “quiet time” has been beyond my ken for years. I listen to an audio Bible app. I stopped trying to keep up with a Beth Moore and a Priscilla Shirer study that my Sunday school class and my ladies’ Bible study was doing because it got to be too much.).
I started back working this week (yay!) but I’ve been putting in about seven hours’ worth of work daily since I’ve been working. Yesterday I wanted to go walking with Frank and Matthew. I finally told them to go on alone. The major problem I was having was the spinning blue circle of death that was happening nearly every single time I tried to move the cursor! The circle can spin from ten seconds up to over a full minute. AND, all of the depositions I am listening to are done by videoconference. For obvious reasons. Which can affect the sound quality.
Our preacher has been talking a lot about current events lately, particularly Ahmaud Arbery’s shooting (and now, the horrific shooting of Breonna Taylor in Louisville, Kentucky) because we have people of color in our congregation that have been deeply affected. And as much as I want to support people, I have a limited amount of time and energy, physically and emotionally. But, if I don’t put forth the energy to listen to people’s concerns and get educated on those concerns, I fear being told that “you don’t care about your brothers and sisters in Christ.”
And *both* of my knees hurt. I may have to head back to the orthopedic doc. They hurt in the same way that my knee hurt about a year and a half or so ago when I ended up having a torn meniscus and needed knee surgery. One of my docs wants me to walk. How am I supposed to walk when my knees hurt?
I have pages to proof that are due by Monday.
Today I am scheduled for an eye exam, which I was scheduled for last month and I forgot the appointment.
Next week Matthew has an appointment and one or both of us will have to take him (and it’s 45 minutes one way.)
Frank STILL has not heard when he’s going back to work. He is getting paid, and I’m thankful for that. But he’d rather be working and I don’t blame him for that.
Next week Matthew’s school ends for the semester. We have gotten his paperwork sent in for vocational rehab. I have a copy of The Loving Push by Temple Grandin, and every time I pick it up and see what she has to say about electronics addiction, and how staying in a room is not acceptable, I want to scream, “But that is ALL of what Matthew wants to do! Stay in his room and play with the electronics! That is IT, and it will be a full-time job just to get him out of there! I don’t have the energy, especially the emotional energy, to do it, especially when most of the job is going to fall on ME!”
My BFF told me, ‘you be you’, but sometimes I just think that ‘me’ is not acceptable. I don’t know if I could consider myself “shy” anymore, but shyness is NOT acceptable in our culture. In American Christian culture, a working mother is just barely acceptable. An intellectual woman is an anomaly. And being fat and not that attractive is not acceptable. I’m way overweight, have tried Weight Watchers, have tried at least one other program, and I just cannot stick with it. It’s too overwhelming to think about food, and exercise, and everything else.
Such is life on Day 63 of quarantine!
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
I feel tense and jumpy, waiting to be interrupted all.the.time.
If I wake up before my husband, I run the risk of waking HIM up. Our dressers are on the same side of the room, his side (they also serve as a divider between the bedroom area and the “office” area which I am now using.)
I KNOW the Christian homemaking books say that the wife is supposed to get up first, have her “quiet time” or “devotional time” and then fix breakfast for everyone, but both Frank and Matthew get up anywhere between 4 and 4:30. I absolutely cannot get up that early. (And a decent “quiet time” has been beyond my ken for years. I listen to an audio Bible app. I stopped trying to keep up with a Beth Moore and a Priscilla Shirer study that my Sunday school class and my ladies’ Bible study was doing because it got to be too much.).
I started back working this week (yay!) but I’ve been putting in about seven hours’ worth of work daily since I’ve been working. Yesterday I wanted to go walking with Frank and Matthew. I finally told them to go on alone. The major problem I was having was the spinning blue circle of death that was happening nearly every single time I tried to move the cursor! The circle can spin from ten seconds up to over a full minute. AND, all of the depositions I am listening to are done by videoconference. For obvious reasons. Which can affect the sound quality.
Our preacher has been talking a lot about current events lately, particularly Ahmaud Arbery’s shooting (and now, the horrific shooting of Breonna Taylor in Louisville, Kentucky) because we have people of color in our congregation that have been deeply affected. And as much as I want to support people, I have a limited amount of time and energy, physically and emotionally. But, if I don’t put forth the energy to listen to people’s concerns and get educated on those concerns, I fear being told that “you don’t care about your brothers and sisters in Christ.”
And *both* of my knees hurt. I may have to head back to the orthopedic doc. They hurt in the same way that my knee hurt about a year and a half or so ago when I ended up having a torn meniscus and needed knee surgery. One of my docs wants me to walk. How am I supposed to walk when my knees hurt?
I have pages to proof that are due by Monday.
Today I am scheduled for an eye exam, which I was scheduled for last month and I forgot the appointment.
Next week Matthew has an appointment and one or both of us will have to take him (and it’s 45 minutes one way.)
Frank STILL has not heard when he’s going back to work. He is getting paid, and I’m thankful for that. But he’d rather be working and I don’t blame him for that.
Next week Matthew’s school ends for the semester. We have gotten his paperwork sent in for vocational rehab. I have a copy of The Loving Push by Temple Grandin, and every time I pick it up and see what she has to say about electronics addiction, and how staying in a room is not acceptable, I want to scream, “But that is ALL of what Matthew wants to do! Stay in his room and play with the electronics! That is IT, and it will be a full-time job just to get him out of there! I don’t have the energy, especially the emotional energy, to do it, especially when most of the job is going to fall on ME!”
My BFF told me, ‘you be you’, but sometimes I just think that ‘me’ is not acceptable. I don’t know if I could consider myself “shy” anymore, but shyness is NOT acceptable in our culture. In American Christian culture, a working mother is just barely acceptable. An intellectual woman is an anomaly. And being fat and not that attractive is not acceptable. I’m way overweight, have tried Weight Watchers, have tried at least one other program, and I just cannot stick with it. It’s too overwhelming to think about food, and exercise, and everything else.
Such is life on Day 63 of quarantine!
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 59-61
On Monday, for the first time in 49 days, I was able to post the following status:
“Time to make the donuts!”
The people I proof for are slowly picking up work again and as a result, I am starting to get work again as well.
Yesterday I proofed 150 pages, and when I listened to the recording, I felt everyone’s pain.
For right now, lawyers, deponents, and court reporters are having to do their jobs via Zoom, or Google Meet, or whatever videoconference platform they are using. They’re doing their jobs the same way millions of people around the world are: in living rooms, bedrooms, dining rooms, home offices; using Internet, using desktops, laptops, iPads, and phones.
They’re working the same way that I am attending church and that my son is attending school. Only in the 21st century would this be possible!
The one disadvantage to my particular job, however, is called sound quality. I listen to recordings as part of my job, and unfortunately, meeting via videoconference is not always conducive to audible legibility.
So it means often playing a portion of a recording over and over, trying to figure out if the person really is saying what the transcript has recorded them saying. And it means sometimes straining your ears and turning up the volume.
I’m not always crazy about working, and sometimes the tedium of the job can get to me.
But I appreciate the fact that I am working. There are people that can’t say that right now.
So it’s nice to be able to say it again:
“Time to make the donuts!”
And, also time to sing our theme song:
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
“Time to make the donuts!”
The people I proof for are slowly picking up work again and as a result, I am starting to get work again as well.
Yesterday I proofed 150 pages, and when I listened to the recording, I felt everyone’s pain.
For right now, lawyers, deponents, and court reporters are having to do their jobs via Zoom, or Google Meet, or whatever videoconference platform they are using. They’re doing their jobs the same way millions of people around the world are: in living rooms, bedrooms, dining rooms, home offices; using Internet, using desktops, laptops, iPads, and phones.
They’re working the same way that I am attending church and that my son is attending school. Only in the 21st century would this be possible!
The one disadvantage to my particular job, however, is called sound quality. I listen to recordings as part of my job, and unfortunately, meeting via videoconference is not always conducive to audible legibility.
So it means often playing a portion of a recording over and over, trying to figure out if the person really is saying what the transcript has recorded them saying. And it means sometimes straining your ears and turning up the volume.
I’m not always crazy about working, and sometimes the tedium of the job can get to me.
But I appreciate the fact that I am working. There are people that can’t say that right now.
So it’s nice to be able to say it again:
“Time to make the donuts!”
And, also time to sing our theme song:
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
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