Protection

Why do I keep hearing this garbage about how they do not enjoy protection as I do? That's nonsense. I never have any protection. If I make any mistake I am just destroyed utterly whereas other people make mistakes, sometimes even worse mistakes than myself, and nothing happens to them. Why is it that I am singled out for utter contempt? I just don't know. So my voice on the tape might have sounded a little snarky but that is nothing compared to the contempt showered on me by others so it just does not seem fair at all to me that they get away with murder.

Fashion

Yes, I vaguely remember that during college when I was working one summer at a grocery store that two gay men came through my checkout line and the one who was dressed sort of like a woman and carrying a purse made some strange comment as if woman to woman asking me where there was a good beauty salon so I told him there was one nearby. It was sort of weird and I might have mentioned this to if anyone maybe Rachel Balius who also worked there as a cashier. So why does everyone want to hear this story again? A patent leather purse would not blend with your macho ensemble. You would look so wrong in dresses and earrings so don't even try.

I am an IN

I am an IN. IN means an Introvert Intuitive if you know anything about the Myers-Brigg test. I tested very heavily for intuitive and even more heavily for introverted so there is no question that I am an introvert. Whether or not I am a T/F or a J/P is less clear. I have tested as INFJ and also later as INTP at different times in my life but always very borderline on the T/F and J/P. It all depends on how you answer the questions and how it strikes me the time. Nevertheless, I am highly Introverted. So this is just part of who I am. I will not tolerate these hideous people snapping at me and saying shyness is selfishness. And what makes these people think they are entitled to know anything about me anyway? What makes these people think they are entitle to a one-way street relationship with me wherein I am pressured to open up and tell them more about myself so that they can then use all this information in distorted ways for their own selfish ambitions? Like I said when Cori or someone was complaining that I never I talk, I don't feel comfortable talking to people I don't really know and don't trust. I am waiting for something, like maybe thing will change so that I will feel more comfortable opening up and talking. Or maybe I am just waiting for the nags to disappear so that I can do what I want. So if Cori is still waiting for me to open up and talk to her she can forget about it. It is just never going to happen. I am never going to change into an extrovert. I always will be an introvert. There is nothing wrong with being an IN. It is not a birth defect, even if I am an anomaly within my own family. I always will be an intuitive, although intuition has nothing to do with witchcraft. It is just a personality thing. So the more you heap shame and humiliation upon me for being an introvert, the less likely it is that you will ever hear from me again. If you lock me out of myself then I will be ruined which is why I will never talk to you again. You are too dangerous for association.

Lost In Space

I am totally lost. Why all these stupid Peter Pan jokes? Yes I rode the cool ride at Disneyland long before I even read the book. Peter Pan always was a cool ride for little kids but I am way too old for that now. I am an adult now and, anyway, been there done that.

Nurses

Yes, my sister and Rachel Balius (MK Colombia?) attended nursing school together in Springfield, Missouri, for about three years. Which reminds me that one of their classmates at nursing school was Judy Thomson who is an MK Venezuela. So those three were all in nursing school together attending classes together and doing their nursing internship work right there across the street from headquarters. Judy Thompson later married some bigshot on staff at Bethany which, from all indications, is a very weird place. Bethanyites think they are better than everybody else and think that they should be in charge of everything even though if you ever attended the party that I did listening to Judy and Angie Thompson chatting with Forrest Beiser's little brother you would realize that actually Bethanyites are actually very weird. Or maybe I just don't get it. I don't find their weird humor very funny. They are just weird. I just wasn't there so their jokes just sound stupid to me. But then again I attended rival SCC so what would I know?

Cori

Yes, I did write a letter to someone, maybe Cori's parents, I don't remember what I said, just something, maybe about some of things I was having to tolerate in Cori's horrid behavior. I really don't remember what I said or why. It was just something I probably should not have done but these people just do not seem to realize what a hardship it was trying to get along with horrid Cori. She was just such a mean person to me. Some people probably never realized this because they never saw the side of her that I saw but, anyway, I think that if these rich people want some poor person to serve as nanny/maid to their rebellious children they really should pay someone. There is no way that I was going to take orders from Cori after all of that garbage. If Cori wants a maid she will have to hire someone willing to tolerate her obnoxious attitude and she will have to pay them a generous salary to compensate. I was never paid so I do not have to put up with all this abuse. If anything, I could probably sue Cori bigtime for casting aspersions on my reputation. There is a verse in Deuteronomy 22 which talks about defaming a virgin and I think that I should be collecting a fortune right about now based on all of the false allegations circulated against me which have caused irreparable damage to my personal reputation and future prospects for marriage and career. It is actionable but it would be a real pain to fight all of these people and pin it down to something I could take to court. Perhaps God in heaven will see my lawsuit and send me the money because I sure do need the money.

jokes

Yes, someone, maybe it was Cori although I don't remember, wanted to know something about what it was like being a missionary kid and what do missionaries talk about. I might have said something about the sort of friendly rivalry between El Salvador and Costa Rica. It is not really a big deal, just some things they say sound sort of funny because they are talking about things in a different sort of way, not hostile, just sort of the way different countries have different issues and sometimes they think the other country should do everything the way they do and also some missionaries in other countries were sometimes ribbing the missionaries in El Salvador, saying that we had it so good in "paradise" while their works in some other countries were much smaller than ours. There are many reasons for that. It is not just about the missionaries. It also has to do with the nationals in the individual countries and how they got organized and did a lot of things that maybe some people in other countries were not willing to do. So it is not just about what the missionaries do. There are a lot of factors. So the missionaries in Costa Rica think that everyone should do things their way even though they have far fewer churches but maybe more upper class people in their churches as opposed to El Salvador which always was focused on the lower class people as they were the ones who started everything from the beginning. It always was a grass roots thing in El Salvador more or less. So it is just about apples and oranges, not really anything to be taken so seriously. If I had known people would take it so weirdly I would never have said anything. Obviously some people have very short memories but that is how things were back then.

Mass Communication

Yes, I do find this joke about "mass communication" to be in particularly bad taste. Mass Communication refers to the use of a medium of communication, the media technologies — radio, television, the Internet, for example — so that one person may communicate with a massive number of people all at once. So that's nice. Mass communication has its place. For me, mass communication is nothing personal. Media technologies have their place but they can never replace the personal communication of relationships between family and friends. I cannot be expected to rely on the talking heads of television, the nattering nabobs of networking, to build my personal relationship with God and people. The chatterboxes are always out there yapping and flapping their jaws about what they imagine is important but their frame of references is so different from mine. Like God says in His Word, "My thoughts are not your thoughts neither are your ways my ways." The yappers of mass communication are always building code languages by which they imagine themselves communicating a single meaning to large numbers of people who understand the code language. For example, I remember Cori talking about the code of rock music. Cori mentioned some very common words that are endued by them with sexual meaning. I always thought that was so stupid. To adopt the rock music code is to unlock the secrets of evil. Why would we want to do that? I do not need to know all that garbage anyway. It is just another example of the type of thing one learns from trashy witch Cori and nothing more. Oh, did I mention this to dim bulb Dauna? One would go nuts if one took anything that Cori says seriously. Anway, these yappers assume that everyone speaks their code but in reality we do not need their code in order to communicate our wants and needs directly to God. I am not required to vet my prayer requests through television channels before directing my thoughts to God. God knows what I mean before I even know what to say so I do not need the yappers of television to confuse matters. It is time that the yappers of television learned a little humility. I am tired of them trying to blackmail me, imagining that this vague and uneasy sense of guilt will somehow prompt me to send them money when they actually have millions of dollars locked away in vaults to pay for their technologies. We know this because they refuse to disclose the vast number of properties and assets. This is a clue that they are hiding something although we are not sure what. So why should I care? They are not my problem. There will never be enough money for them. There will never be enough adulation from the masses to satisfy them. They are insatiable but they are not my problem. Local churches are where true relationships are supposed to be found so that is where we should put our money in my opinion.

Places

Yes, you probably find it very easy to impress the girls in your cowboy costume when you are a 14-year-old boy. Nevertheless, when you are still age 20 and 30 and still getting by on brawn yet no brains in your empty skull then perhaps you will start to get a hint. You should have gone to college. It is not your place to tell the Yankees to go home. You are the one who will have to leave the big city of Miami to hide away in some country town, some crossroads out in the middle of nowhere, a Yeehaw Junction of sorts, where as yet civilization has not yet penetrated and you can pretend to live as if still in the 1950s. Just because my sister consented to date Florida cracker boys, that does not mean that you will get any respect from me just for being there like a bump on a log, a knotty pine. Nobody asked me to haul you around everywhere. You were my sister's choice, not mine. You are only a worthless Rockwood, still pledging allegiance to the Bahamas and imagining that everything belongs to you. No, the wicked Rockwood boys should be ashamed of themselves for thinking such awful thoughts and going to great lengths to play out their disgusting fantasy life. Accidents may happen in life but how we react to those accidents reveals the contemptible depths of the Rockwood lowbrows. So basically there is no reason for me to apologize for their problem.

Miami Dumpsters

Yes, I really could not care less about Miami. My family at one time attended a church down in Hialeah for a short time. The pastor left there to work for Jimmy Swaggart in Louisiana and then there was another pastor, also very good, who now lives somewhere in Missouri near Springfield. One time my sister and I sang a trio with a guy named Mark who imagined himself some kind of bigshot in the youth group. Mark once came to our house for a rehearsal and we fed him dinner. That is about the only thing I remember about him, that his name was Mark and that he came to our house once to rehearse a trio. Other than that I do not remember a single thing about Mark. I really do not remember anything about the people of Miami. I was only there a short time and mostly they are a bunch of rednecks with whom I have nothing in common. It is hard for a college-educated person like me to relate to these guys who mostly hang out in the garage listening to country music and tinkering with the swamp buggy and polishing the gator hide. It's just not my thing. I just don't care what they think about me. Sometimes a person like me must make a choice, whether to be popular with the redneck mental retards or whether to get a college education and accomplish something worthwhile with my life. Sometimes one of these goals must be sacrificed in order to accomplish the other one. Can you guess which goal I chose?

Speaking Of Mississippi

Speaking of Mississippi, the Balius missionary family is also from there. They lived in Miami when we first moved here in the 1980s but they long ago moved to Springfield, Missouri, a much safer place in general for AG peoples who have many churches to pick from there. Anyway, it is sad that the Balius' son-in-law Don, while a missionary to Colombia, committed adultery and now lives in Miami with the woman who is now his second wife. He is no longer a minister and has some type of grunt-work office job. How could such a thing happen to persons who seemed to have it all together? We just have no clue and are no longer in communication with Don. We only hear about them sometimes through the Balius's, about how their daughter sort of backslid and got rebellious when living with her father and that sort of thing. And why is Rachel Balius not married? I have no clue. She makes lots of money as a research nurse in Chicago but still I have not heard of any wedding there so even if she is nicer, sweeter and more spiritual than myself, as her parents probably think, her mother being horrified to find me watching "Three Musketeers" movie on television, perfect little Rachel crowned a Missionette Queen probably never watches movies, still there is no guarantee that a better person will get married as opposed to garbage like me. Rachel was my sister's friend in Miami and co-student at nursing school in Springfield so my sister would be the one to ask about Rachel, not me. I do not really know much about Rachel.

Work

I do not work for you. You are not my boss so you have no business poking and prodding me about whether or not I work. What I do at work is none of your business and you have no power to withhold food and water. I am never going to report to you because I am not your maid and your low opinion of what I do is not my problem. It is only your problem because you are not going to get what is mine. What's mine is not yours. My paycheck I keep for myself. All the profits will be mine and nothing for you bumpkins who made my life so miserable.

The Nasty Botsfords

Yes, that was so weird that time when I was talking to Lynda and her mother and her mother was saying something about how she had heard about my parents and knew that my parents became missionaries because of being failures as assistant pastors in San Bernardino. Are not all missionaries failures at pastoring and that is why they run away to the mission field, because they could not make a success of pastoring? What could be better than managing your own little pastoral kingdom of which you are the sole dictator? What a weird thing for a pastor's wife to say, almost as if she were in touch with some cranky critics of the former pastoral administration at a nearby rival church. She did not say exactly who she got that stuff came from but it sounded really nasty to me. It is rather awkward to have a college friend who is really my enemy. And anyway, the Botsfords are from Kansas. We all know that these Kansas invaders think they know everything, imagine themselves as superior to the Southern California slummers and went to Southern California for the specific purpose of reforming the California district, as if Kansas were really home, as if Kansas really represented white people. Ha! No, Kansas does not represent the white people of Southern California. Kansas represents the Midwestern fantasy of Southern California as mostly fruits and nuts.

Point Of Light

Yes, I do remember that time when I was visiting with Lynda and her mother and Lynda talked about receiving  a Presidential Award for being a Point of Light which has something to do with being a valuable volunteer. For some reason I did not seem duly impressed with the significance of this amazing honor awarded to Lynda and so her mother continued to impress on me the fact that this award was presented to Lynda at some type of ceremony along with a speech given in front of a lot of people who heard that day of Lynda's wonderfulness. This may have taken place possibly in conjunction with someone at her job nominating her although I am not sure. So that's nice. Lynda has been recognized by the President as a Point of Light. Excuse me for not being impressed enough with Lynda's amazing accomplishment and the deeper significance of the plaque or certificate presented to Lynda. We should all be like Lynda, perhaps, if one were to truly heed her mother's words which continue to echo throughout the universe. Nevertheless, I do not think that I am less of a Christian or capable of good works because I did not receive the Presidential Point of Light recognition certification. I could spend the rest of my life wallowing in self-pity and jealousy at Lynda's accomplishment and awards which are not mine but then that would be sort of self-destructive and self-defeating and would sap all of my constructive energy towards an unproductive end. No, I will not think very much about Lynda's wall decoration because there are so many other things that I could be thinking about and doing. I am not responsible for Lynda's interior decor. I am only responsible for me and what I do with what has been given to me. No, I have no Point of Light Award but I have many other things for which to be thankful.

Technical Difficulties

Yes, I do seem to remember that the first night of the Charlie Brown production was plagued by technical difficulties. I might have mentioned this in my story but obviously no mention of any technical difficulties survived to print. OK, so in a story published after a three-night run there might be no need to overemphasize the first night problems that were later ironed out. And anyway the band mothers would not want to see anything negative mentioned. So is that not why we have these high school learning experiences, so that we learn what we should not to do after we get out there in the real world? Which is another reason to never think about this ever again.

The Band Mothers

Yes, my Charlie Brown story as it appears in the Trojan Times only partially resembles what I originally wrote. What appears there is basically a list of persons participating in the event. I no longer remember what I originally wrote. I just remember there was something said about Craig Whittle's Snoopy being on for two nights so I should not have said so much about Tim Tinker's Snoopy. But I attended the first night and only saw Tim Tinker's Snoopy so cannot really comment on Craig's Snoopy. The story is so much shorter that cartoons were drawn to fill the empty space that was left behind at the end of the story. Anyway, perhaps our advisor Michelle Morris or editor Beth Slay remember more about this as they were likely the ones conducting the surgery on my story which basically ends up being a laundry list and not much more than that. One does not think too much about it if nosy band mothers have an "in" with Mrs. Morris and can thus work their will in a high school newspaper but such antics do not fly in the real world. In the real world the band mothers such as Mrs. Whittle are not allowed to rewrite history to make their kids look better than they really were.

About Melatonin

Once again let me explain: I just do not tan. Never tanned am I. Even if I would tan I could not tan and, anyway, why would I want to try to tan? Foolish hours spent in the sun would only leave me a reddish hue and broiled with blisters and peeling and searing pain. My freckles might darken slightly but no big deal. Thus, it logically follows that I would not wish upon myself a tan so why would you wish me tanned? I cannot tan. I will not tan. I would only fail to tan even if I tried to tan. Thus, in all seriousness, I will keep my freckles to myself and not share them with you because, really, tanned people just would not understand. Tanning might or might not accentuate your old-age wrinkles later. No one can really say for sure. Yes, being overweight also could affect wrinkling. Whatever. Tan or no tan, freckles or not, it does not matter. This is just a lot of yapping about melatonin.

Mississippi

What is this weird thing about Mississippi anyway? Barbara Miller was from Jackson and I cannot remember whether she attended Ole Miss or just talked about the school, but it has become clear that she suffers from scrambled brains. Hopefully someone has been appointed to handle her admission to a mental hospital for radical brain surgery. That she left with some kind of bee in her bonnet should not be my problem.

Lynda's Teaching

Yes, it is very hard for me to comment on Lynda's teaching experience. I remember that at college she was doing some student teaching nearby and for some reason one day she asked me to accompany her so I did and remember being there at the school for maybe just a few minutes. I don't remember what we were doing there, only that the place was pandemonium and the kids thought that I was one of them and kept asking me if I was a new student. I said no, I'm just a friend of Lynda's, only visiting. Ok, I look young but I'm not that young so someone else's parents have no business telling me diddledy-squat because I am not their kid and what I do is none of their business. Don't remember why Lynda always seemed to need a retinue following her around. I don't really know very much about her subsequent year or two teaching at a Christian school or why she is now content with mundane office jobs after being trained as a music teacher. It is hard for me to reference anything related to teaching as I am really not that interested in patrolling pandemonium and not really getting to do what I want to do which is not really teaching music. Yes, John Brown thought it might be a good idea for me to teach piano lessons and gave me a couple of phone numbers to call. I called one and the lady immediately said no, that I probably was not good enough for her kid or without enough experience, and so that was fine with me. I would not was not offering to do her any favors anyway and that was the last time I ever took any advice from creepy weird John Brown so get a clue.

Plots

Speaking of plots, I know what the anti-Semitic Hoskins clan is trying to do. They are trying to put me in the place of the Palestinian who is forever a second-class citizen to the Jewish person so that I can share in the bitterness and anger of the Palestinians. This is because the Hoskins are virulently anti-Semitic in addition to being very involved in ministries to the Arabs while giving lip service to Jewish ministries also. Truly, would it not be sort of dangerous to imagine that the entire world is composed of only Jews and Palestinians so that you can be only one or the other and not a none of the above? I wonder if the Hoskins have ever contemplated the possibility that I just cannot fit into the shoes/moccasins of either Arab or Jew and thus I am a none (spelled n-o-n-e) of the above and thus their little scheme to shower me with the bitterness of Hagar or Keturah is just going to boomerang and result in vomit on their own faces because, really, they just don't get it. I should not have to explain this. I am a Christian so that garbage is not my problem.

Jealousy

That's sort of funny, these people trying to pretend that I should be jealous of dumpy dog Sharon. She is a fat, ugly spinster whose best hope for marriage is finding some fat, ugly slob who really likes her money and is thus willing to overlook her many faults. She has lots of money because, for one thing, her father died when she was young and left her an inheritance. (So should I wish that my father was dead so some non-existent money should materialize out of nowhere?) And also she has lots of money because she works in municipal human resources. (Newspaper writing just never paid that well but it was a lot more fun than being municipal drone.) We all know that "they" love people with money, the more of it the better, so obviously "they" are on her side. In addition, Sharon is not only bilingual English-Portuguese but also biracial, being half Jewish and half Brazilian. These days language skills are not enough. You have to be a multi-racial to represent "them" and get ahead. (So should I trade in my plain vanilla parents for something more variegated? No, I think that would be too much trouble. God made me this way for a purpose even if "they" just don't get it.) So, basically, no, I really could not care less about what Sharon is doing these days. Probably making lots of money and dating be, her shoes would never fit me, and all that hanging out with all those Brazilians would just give me a headache trying to understand what they are saying. I basically just don't care about Brazil. Sorry if that bothers "them," but I just have other things to do than worry about copycatting Sharon.

Animal Activiists

Yes, that was sort of weird the way Sharon was accusing me of abusing my dog and said that was one reason why "they" are choosing not to associate with me. So fine, I really don't care what "they" think although actually, technically speaking, it was my Dad who kicked the dog out of the way in the backyard. Anyway, it does not matter to me. I have no particular preference for associating with these animal rights activists who hide behind a cheapskate form of smug self-righteousness as the champions of animals while turning a blind eye to the plight of orphans who are stranded in institutional care without hope of being adopted by wealthy single women such as Sharon who would prefer globe-trotting excursions to the actual daily grind of caring for her own child in her own home. So I really don't care what Sharon thinks about anything either.

Creepy Mike

Why would anyone give a hoot about anything that creepy weird Mike of downtown Fort Lauderdale might say about anything? Mike is a political activist and professional handyman who lives with a roommate, a creepy weird old man of skin-crawlingly bizarre appearance. I only know this because Sharon told me her impressions. Mike attended my sister and brother-in-law's church singles group for a couple of years back in the 1990s. He briefly dated Sharon but after he took her to his house and introduced her to his roommate, Sharon came to the conclusion that Mike is probably gay as he has been living with the old man for a very long time. I can't really confirm or deny Sharon's analysis as I do not that much about Mike. All I know about Mike is that he once lived in Haines City in Central Florida. At about the same time that I worked at the Haines City Herald newspaper Mike was bagging groceries at the Publix grocery store across the street from the newspaper building, not that I remembered him from there. We just talked about this Haines City connection once or twice. I seem to remember him saying his parents are Baptist pastors in the Haines City area. He once brought them to Christian Life Center in Fort Lauderdale and introduced them to me along with his roommate who was standing behind the parents, and he did seem to match Sharon's description, so that is the only time I ever saw those people. Mike is very weird, always sending out weird vibes which freaked me out a couple of times. So why would anyone take weird Mike seriously? I certainly would not.

Dogs

I cannot imagine would imagine that I would ever mistreat or fight with my dog. It was unfortunate that time when our dog DiDi got too involved. My Dad was out in the backyard doing some kind of project and really not in a good mood. My Dad sometimes gets really frustrated when it comes to certain types of projects and he is concentrating on what he is doing and DiDi ran over to see what was going on and Didi got kicked out of the way. We normally do not treat our dogs that way but there are moments when dogs get kicked and, well, it happens. Are we going to send our Dad to jail for kicking the dog? No, I don't think so. These things happen. It is not like we abuse dogs on a regular basis. It was just one of those moments when the dog was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Baker Acted

And why do I imagine that I was Baker Acted? It is not like I was suicidal. In all of these years, have you ever caught me plotting a way to actually do the deed, that of extinguishing my own life? No, most likely you have never caught me slitting my wrists or anything so self-destructive as that. No, when it comes to do or die, I would rather just die than do such a deed. And anyway, wasn't that Jill and Linda's stupid Baker Act joke? So basically we are talking about a lose-lose situation. What did you think you were going to find anyway? It is not like I know anything more about it than anyone else obviously, so what is the whole point of this constant surveillance? An exercise in torture? A behavioral experiment? A wholly impractical joke? I think someone should call off the Baker Act joke like ASAP, immediately, now. How would you like to be treated like a pig in a poke? Really, will someone in charge please call the whole thing off. Thank you.

Mail Call

I just don't write letters very often, especially not personal ones, especially not to relatives who prefer to snub me on Facebook. If that means that I cannot be safely called a correspondent, then so be it. I never was very good at letter writing anyway other than a few exceptions such as Laurie who wrote to us first. Others will probably will never hear from me. It boggles the mind that many of these crackpot loony relatives of mine could imagine themselves being any kind of asset to me. Ha! No, somehow they do not seem to see what a huge liability they have become to me for various reasons which is why in most cases there is no reason whatsoever to remain connected to certain persons who by pure coincidence are descended from the same family tree as myself and with whom I otherwise have absolutely nothing in common. Even Jesus said, when his family was clamoring in the background, that he had more important things to do. Who are my relatives anyway? No one so important that they cannot be safely forgotten in order to accomplish a more important task. I really would almost prefer to die, to commit suicide, rather than to give certain uppity-ups even the tiniest toehold in my personal life. They have their lives. They showered nothing but curses on me so they should not expect to collect any prizes or rewards in exchange for their display of rotten attitude. Who do they think they are kidding anyway?

Charlie Brown

Yes, come to think of it, I think that I did write the story in the Trojan Times about the band's production of "You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown." If so, why in the story do I refer to Trina Tinker as the first chair clarinet player? I do not remember that. Was it not Bevy Ochoa who occupied the first chair clarinet position so indispensable to the instrumental section of the band? Obviously Trina's clarinet skills were not so essential to the instrumental side of things and besides she was a natural for the part of obnoxious loud-mouth Lucy. And why is Leland Bement's band instrument not listed? Everyone remembers him as Trina's boyfriend but I don't remember what instrument he played in the band. I really do not remember the details of the article and how it ended up that way in the paper. I always thought they did a very good job for instrumentalists pretending to be singers. I don't remember thinking about this very much. It is not like I ever thought about Trina and Leland after high school. These people just are not really part of my life other than high school, which ended a long time ago. They had their place in time but that time is long past, just a few memories here and there, nothing really to hold on to too tightly because there might be something better for me in the future somewhere else if I could just shake off all these psychos who plague my life with their nonsense. It is just not about them.

Nightmares

Yes, I cannot think of a worse nightmare than to have to spend the rest of my life being the companion in old age to my control freak-psycho mother. For this very reason, she will have to pay very dearly for what she has stolen from me. I will make her pay through the nose for this nightmare to which I have been condemned. Ha ha ha! Let me think now, how can I make her old age a most miserable experience for all concerned? Ha ha ha! I am sure I will continue to find ways to make her pay for it.

Senior Wills

Wow! That was so mean of Mr. Bosworth to take my senior will so personally. One imagines in writing one's senior will that, when all the other stupid jokes in there are also excused, that one's own senior will will be equally excused on the grounds of stupid tradition inherited from past years. Obviously it is not a legally binding document. I cannot quite recall what I was thinking at the time, perhaps just copycatting some other wills that I helped to type, but one imagines that a mature and elderly teacher might pause to reflect on the fate of the little red-headed, freckle-faced girl who has no "Linus" to challenge her cause. I am only speculating now what other people may have construed from that because, really, for me it was not that complicated. I had to put something in there to fill the space. Sure, in fifth grade, the one year I attended the Escuela Americana before returning to MK school, I did join the band and learned clarinet. However, I was very lousy on clarinet, could not hit the high notes, I learned later my lips are not shaped right for clarinet, so when I returned there for high school I did not resume band. It just would not matter. I could work on clarinet playing for hours and hours night and day and still be lousy so it would be pointless to even try. Thus, we leave the clarinet to those band members whose natural aptitudes equip them for such a trying ordeal as clarinet lessons. Thus, it is bizarre that Thomas "Trumpet" Hills would make this huge case about me being jealous of Bevy Ochoa, a star clarinetist of the band. Really, Thomas. Get real! It would also bizarre for people to make a huge case about the band's production of the "You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown" high school musical production whose featured singers were chosen exclusively from among band members. Sure, Trina "Clarinet" Tinker had a starring role as "Lucy Van Pelt" to Amadeo "Trombone" Cortez's "Charlie Brown." Trina's brother Tim "Bells" Tinker did a great job as "Snoopy." There was a very nice article for the "Trojan Times" describing the production for the program which I recall attending although I cannot recall whether I wrote the story. Trina's boyfriend Leland Bement played the role of "Linus" although his instrument is not noted in the article. So, yes, a vivid imagination has a lot to play with in this production lineup, not that I would know anything about it.

Jackson

Yes, so you imagine that your son is just as wildly popular and talented as the deeply weird and sadly late Michael Jackson and so you imagine that the talent and money excuses the vulgar antics. Perhaps Cheryl would remember who that black girl was. In the newspaper room during my journalism program I recall that the subject of Michael Jackson came up for some mysterious reason and how weird he is or rather was. The black girl who was there acted strangely at hearing the white girl's impression. Basically, it does not matter how famous and wealthy you are, we poor white girls do not really care about you and we are not impressed. Are you surprised? You should not be. We are also equally not impressed with the vulgar antics of many white performers who have impressive talents but no taste. We are no respecter of talent when it is abused and misused, no color insult intended.

Not Important

Yes, I vaguely remember that when I was at SCC one day Cori brought some woman to our room. I remember that she was sitting there yapping away about breasts. She was married so apparently, from what she said, one gathers that these matters get more complicated after marriage. Nevertheless, it is hard for me to reference this conversation because, for one thing, I cannot remember her name or anything about her, not even who her husband was. That was the only time I ever saw her. If there were other people in the room listening to this conversation in addition to Cori I really don't remember who they might have been. I do not know where Cori finds all these people. So maybe I might have felt a little bit annoyed about having to stand there observing as if a guest in my own room because I seem to remember that she was sitting in my desk chair, maybe. That is not really such a big deal as to make a scene about as she is only a guest anyway and will not be staying. I cannot remember whether I stayed for the entire conversation. I do vaguely remember her referencing some factoids previously unknown to me but, really, I cannot think of a single reason to regurgitate the woman's worthless conversation. She was just one of these chatterboxes. They just chat chat chat. It's nothing important from my point of view, just trivialities. Chatterboxes have no ability to distinguish between what is important and what is not important. They just dump everything but the kitchen sink into a huge chatterbox which is why they are never allowed to see my writing before it is ready for publication. They just would not understand. Sure, in my high school notebooks there is a short little poem about needing to hold onto the past. Nevertheless, a chatterbox interpretation of that poem would be disastrous. I only need to hold on to that which is pure, true, of good report, excellent, praiseworthy, etc. A lot of other insignificant trivia collected along the way can be safely ignored and forgotten and never brought to remembrance.

Hookey?

Yes, I never should have agreed to skip class that one time but it wasn't my idea. There they were, Cheatuh Rivera and the Marionitess, sneaking out the back door and would I please accompany them. And what was the point anyway? It is so easy for these rich people such as Cheatuh Rivera to play hookey from school on a regular basis, being perhaps constrained for mysterious reasons from getting into the Mercedes Benz and driving to school. And where do they find time to buy all those cigarettes? It does not matter whether those people learn anything at school. They have the money and connections to make all of these problems, such as politically controversial Spanish literature curriculum, just disappear. But for me, a kid who rides the bus to school, except for the two times I walked, if I were to skip even one class my entire world would collapse. After all, the only reason that my name regularly appears in the newspaper honor roll lists is that I have an excellent attendance record which is the only thing that means, if I remember correctly. It is not like my GPA would qualify me for extraordinary honors, not that I ever thought that it would anyway. All these people are so eager to find chinks in my armor which is another reason to be very quiet at school. Never give them an opening because they will be like a pack of jackals ripping and tearing at the slightest potentiality or vaguely imagined association even if unsupported by a shred of evidence. So, in summary, it was a very bad idea to skip class that one time, but given that I did and it cannot be undone, there is no reason to pretend that I did attend class when I did not and thus cannot say for sure what happened there on that day.

More About Bad Jokes

Our Spanish lesson for today:

1. Definition of "peca, pecas": freckle, freckles
2. Definition of "peca, pecas": He or she sins, you sin

So just because I have freckles that does not mean that you are the one with sin spots as contrasted with my sun spots and just because I bequeathed to you my freckles, that does not now mean that I am now am stuck with your sin spots as opposed to mine or that you really got my sun spot joke, although I have since forgotten the conversation or how the subject came up in the first place.

Nevertheless, as the Bible says:
"All have sinned and come short of the glory of God."
 "There is no one righteous, no not one."

So freckles or no freckles, you are not off the hook. You still need a Savior, Jesus Christ the spotless lamb of God who died to provide atonement for your sins and mine.

So this is how these things get more and more complicated. Sin makes the world a very complicated place but if we keep our eyes on Jesus then our lives do not have to be this complicated. Biblical principles are followed so that our lives do not get so complicated.

Speaking Of Bad Jokes

Speaking of bad jokes, yes, certainly the Trojan Times Senior Issue, particularly the seniors' last wills, is full of bad jokes. This is not a tradition that we personally instituted. It was inherited from past years and we were just plugging in the empty space with whatever people turned in. Maybe something else could have been done with the Senior Issue but we were not feeling that creative at the time. We had other things on our minds, such as getting out of there.

It was not our will that those jokes should be taken seriously. The introduction explains that the wills are for entertainment purposes only. And anyway, why would I will my beautiful little freckles to Lorena Tenorio who obviously would not appreciate them. No, it was just a stupid joke, not to be taken seriously. Ok, so if we are going to be technical about this, I vaguely remember having a conversation with someone and saying that, well, I am about as white as they come (more or less, generally speaking), and the reply was that actually no, I am not the whitest person in the school (as if I were boasting about being the whitest person in the school). Lorena Tenorio might have been one of those cited as actually whiter than me although a different shade, more of a creamy white, and no freckles. So maybe she wants a polka-dot sun tan? Ha ha ha! No, not really. Just a stupid joke.

There was no connection, and you are really stretching it, if you imagine that there was any thought of the dramatic play, "Don Juan Tenorio." Am I attributing the blame to her rather than the creepy letcherous womanizer who is the main character of the Spanish literature classic which is the basis for an opera and is based on actually true stories of persons such as the Casanova who actually chronicled his many encounters with innumerable women? Well, Solomon had a thousand wives so who's to say that Casanova was not unlike the rich and powerful potentates of the Orient?

Well, if you want to excuse Casanova then you must be a wealthy Arab potentate or something like that, but that was never the Christian position, Protestant or Catholic. Casanova ended his life doing penitence because, as we all know, he was just wrong wrong wrong. Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit and if you don't have self-control then you are just not operating in the Spirit. You are a clueless creep and we are not going to take you that seriously.

And anyway, freckles are not a sign of sinful spots. I could look up the significance of melatonin but, anyway, it does not logically follow that melatonin directly correlates to sinfulness. Are you saying that black people are more sinful people than white people? You psychos! Do not put me on your stupid thinkers list. I am not willing to take your garbage seriously. I have more important things to do than delve into the intricacies of stupid thinking.

Sick Joke

I do not know if I speak for anyone, but I personally do not appreciate the dirty dog Baptist Bells trying to turn my personal faith into some kind of sick joke, and all of this for their own personal glory at my expense. We all know that Bruce Bell was just a backslidden party guy with no brains in his empty head. He probably still wishes that he had kissed Dawn. To each his own.

And Who Is Calling Who A Snake Anyway?

The pot calling the kettle black? Oh, ha ha ha!
Gimme a break, you hideous witch!
Do you think I am the only person in this place who understands the English language?

Farewell To All Of You

Farewell to all of you. These are the words that are spoken in the name of all seniors by the author of the unattributed blurb on the back page of the Senior Issue of the Trojan Times, 1976.

OK, so maybe it is a stretch to assume representation of the entire senior class with all of its hoodlums and slutty witches of whose personal lives I am mostly unaware outside of the classroom. I would not want their judgments raining down upon my head. For example, I have no idea what our lady of ill repute does in her spare time. I would not want to even guess.

But obviously the only thing we were saying was farewell, goodbye, so long, etc. Well, perhaps there are a few of people still there at Escuela Americana still trying to complete high school requirements, still riding the school bus every morning or being driven by their parents or chauffeur to the school facilities where they are greeted at the gate by that guy, and then exit at the circle and make their way to homeroom, stash your lunchbox and books in your locker, etc. etc. etc., still worried about being late for class, etc. You must speak for yourself.

We were not talking about you. We were only talking about ourselves, us, the senior class, those of us who graduated and left and never went back. We were "The Spirit of '76." Er, that is, 1976.

Sure, one or two students might still be there now in the capacity of teacher but never again will we be high school students. After all, high school is only temporary, just a season of life that is far behind us now and there is no reason to make it so complicated.

Complications

P.S. to Men: Don't invite me out for sodas, your sister and me, and drive us to the restaurant and then pretend later, after the check comes, that I should have paid for my soda even though you never said so and you are paying for hers and only a chilly coldness later gives me the impression that I should have paid for my own soda. That makes you a cheapskate. If you invite a couple of high school girls to the restaurant and tell your sister's friend upfront that she will have to pay for her own soda, then that makes you rude. But unfortunately, you cannot have it both ways. You have to be rude upfront if you do not want to pay thus giving your spare tire guest the opportunity to graciously decline your unacceptable offer that is being extended so unwillingly and under false pretenses with the sole purpose of making yourself sound like a gracious host even when you really are not.

Thanksgiving

Yes, I now have less respect than ever for the little third grade boy who left the "s" out of Thanksgiving and thus lost the elementary school spelling bee to me, a second grade girl. Sore losers just don't deserve any respect. After all, Thanksgiving is a plurality. It is not just all about one person, him. Neither is it about me alone. It is about all of us. We have many things to be thankful for and there are many of us who have cause to give thanks to God. And why would my parents not be proud of me or expect me to hand the trophy that I rightfully won over to him? No, I will keep my trophy sitting on my shelf because it meant something to me even if it is only a little piece of wood and metal, or maybe plastic with metallic paint.

The story is not all about boys. Even our high school valedictorian Leland Bement had to graciously share the platform with co-winning valedictorian Huei Nin-Liu because apparently their gpa's were identical. We do not want to hear any nonsense about our salutatorian Amadeo gunning down either of them. What's fair is fair.

That said, what's fair is fair. Kathy and I should have left The Rover column alone to avoid all this confusion as to who said what. In reviewing it I see there are plenty of typos in there anyway so what was the big deal? Just some nonsense about how we singers should not reach too high or we will get "fly away," which in Spanglish might have been "volado." Whatever. "Volado" is no big deal either, just a slangy use of what should be a verb. Used in the slangy sense as an adverb, the word "volado" does not really mean to fly away. It only means, sort of, "to feel as if one is flying."

So, no, she is not saying that we are going to take flight. She is only saying that we might be tossed aside once we have slipped and fallen. In the thesaurus, this might also be interpreted as getting dumped or set aside.

In a previous column we see this term "sliding away." That also might have been a mistranslation but I don't remember. Was she saying they would end up "volados"? The column was talking about people stepping in a puddle of water and sliding forward as if skating or flying, something that was perhaps done by some people when rain left lots of water on the hall floors but it is very dangerous because you could slip and fall and end up landing on your butt on the wet floor. I think that is what she was talking about although I really do not remember. But if the word "volado" was used, she would have been referring to the feeling of exhilaration that one gets when one is sliding at an accelerated speed on the wet floors.

Did I do that? I do not really remember. I only remember that her Spanglish slangy terms sometimes got removed by us. I'm not sure why. Looking back, it does not seem like such a big deal. It was just that if we made mistakes in our editing she was most unforgiving in going over our heads to complain to Beth and others but that really does not excuse us from compounding the situation with more dirty tricks. Anyway, she got me banned from editing her stuff. I think Kathy might have made the final changes. Kathy hid the original copy somewhere. I really don't remember anything specific. You could always ask Kathy.

Bomb?

My mother always did own an electric vibrator. It is an electric device that vibrates and is used to scratch one's back. Well, you could do it the manual way using any old stick or purchase one of those doohickeys that some people once showed me that has a sort of claw on the end of it and you hoist it over your shoulder. Persons who are extremely overweight often use these back-scratchers because their arms cannot reach that point right in the middle of the back that so often needs to be scratched. Anyway, what else could it be, you dummies? Did you actually think it was a bomb? Really. Did your mother never teach you anything?

Choir

As a senior in high school I performed in a musical play, "The Visitor," presented by the choir. Upon reviewing the school newspaper, "Trojan Times," I see that our columnist, "The Rover," did not fail to take a few swipes at us. I am not surprised as that was the tone of her writing most of the time. Carolina Gonzales says, "If my guess is right, the voices of the performers will go higher and higher and higher but be careful, if they go too high they might get fly away... "

Well, I was one of those voices, a soloist in fact, and her comment sounds almost like a warning that I should not set my aspirations too high. Sure, I must be realistic about my vocal prospects. Just one voice of criticism is not going to make me or break me but an avalanche of negativity certainly would derail any future career prospects in that field.

Nevertheless, it is also true that Carolina's column was characteristically negative about pretty much everything and, besides, people who live in glass houses should not be so eager to throw stones. Your writing voice is just as important as the written word and mightier than the sword, as some writers have said, and should be cultivated toward positive and constructive ends, not merely to shower with bitterness and resentment the ones you fear might outshine you.

To summarize: Your voice stinks.