The Mind Of An Introvert In Consensual, Non-Consensual, Social Isolation – Day The Tuesday

I had to go out today. Well, I mean, I didn’t but I did. I went to CVS with Terry to get prescriptions and while I was there I might have bought $40 worth of candy, that I then totally wiped down and sterilized as soon as I got home, then repeated the procedure on myself.

After this, if there is an after this, if I ever see a goddamn baby wipe that isn’t being used to wipe a fucking baby I am going to make it scream in pain like the ashen palms of my hands are screaming as we speak.

A weird sentence I know.

You will note the longer I am in the same house with my children I will become more and more prolific in my writing until a point where I cannot promise that food and water will be as important to me as the tactile orgasm of this little wireless keyboard I have sitting on top of the dead keyboard on this busted ass laptop.

I love my children and them being home is not the issue, not at all. Shit, if you know me at all you know I keep[ my Ducks home too much rather than the other way around. No, the issue is that it is all forced like this.

Now I am not saying we should leave the house, because fuck and that, #StayTheFuckHome.

No, I agree with all of the restrictions if it keeps my Ducks even the most minute amount safer during all of this. Yes, it is inconvenient and annoying to everyone. Yes, I know we are in an economic tailspin, but how are we supposed to be not those things if enough of us get this thing where it is 30, 40, 50 percent unemployment for two decades until the age gap closes again?

I am drinking too much coffee, emotionally eating way too much food and going to bed too late and not getting a lick of sleep until way too early in the morning. It makes for long days, trying days, annoying days.

However, I, like many of you, know someone who has to work in all of this chaos. I know nurses who I cannot imagine are anything short of both terrified and fucking superheroes. Mothers who are so scared they are brave, fathers who are trying everything they can to assuage fears they feel just as strongly.

It can always get fucking worse.

Or, if you are of a slightly Jesus tilt, just remember the old adage. “There but for the Grace of God, go I.” Savor the sweet moments, be strong through the roughest waves, be kind and compassionate to those who do not have the ability to sit at home and work and, most importantly.

Remember this was, at least in part, avoidable and get your ass out to the polls in November, even if you do have to be six feet apart still.

It Is What It Is, Right?

I think the only reason I am presently aware it is a Sunday morning is that I happened to see it on my phone when I rolled out of bed this morning. The days don’t really mean the same thing they used to. I mean, the kids would go to school on some days and they wouldn’t on others, hence the delineation of the days as a whole. Without them actually leaving the house anymore, it all kind of blends into a big blur and I am not going to say it particularly bothers me, it is just something I happened to notice is all.

My brain is a bit more of a coherent place this morning, but it is early yet and I have only had a half a cup of coffee, so we will see where this whole thing goes as the day wears on. I am probably going to simply write a lot for the foreseeable future. It keeps my hands busy, it keeps my brain busy and, most importantly, it brings a sense of normalcy to a time where that word is almost an anachronism. Plus, I have a backlog it seems and I need to at least get those planes out of the air so I can at least try really hard to make sure the next dozen don’t splash in the river shortly after takeoff.

So, a thing I noticed while writing something on a website far, far away, is that I apparently have some quasi-theological things, or maybe philosophical, to say about life and since this is my blog and all of that, I am going to be writing them here. These are deeply held beliefs that only directly contradict one another in some aspects, but are pretty stupid to those who don’t see them the way I do. I am only telling you because some people don’t want to read shit like that and I want to write things like that so I thought it is only fair to tell you it was on its way. Not railing against the Church, I am going to let those guns cool for a bit, but the essential framework of my philosophical and theological belief structure. You’ll know within a line or two if you don’t want to read them, plus, as a bonus, you will notice a shitload of things that I stole from Science Fiction books that I twisted just enough to make them mine.

I had to message my best friend and vent to her because sometimes I don’t think the things I should think and if I tell people the wrong things I think it gives my brain room to get the right things in there. Wrong by my definition, so at least I am not letting anyone else influence that part.

So…About that thing I wrote yesterday.

Yeah, it’s like that all the time.

An Abundance Of Caution

An Abundance of Caution.

I have come to hate that turn of phrase in the last forty-eight hours. I hate how it is neatly hypocritical and perfectly correct in the same way. I hate how no matter what, it always cuts you like a knife even as you try to hold it against you as a shield.

Let me back up a bit.

My two littlest ducks are what are considered high-risk and medically fragile by various health authorities who are, admittedly, far smarter than me. Their issues dictate that they are placed in these categories for their own good and that by being in these categories, they are theoretically safer because of the protections offered them.

I am grateful for these measures and I am by no means complaining that they are in these particular groupings in the slightest. Let me make sure that is understood. I have no problems with how the various Departments of Health from the local to the national level have assessed and listed them. What I have a problem with is what I, Me, James, Bear, Myself, cannot do that they can.

My Elder Duck’s school just transitioned to home-based learning effective immediately. There were no confirmed or even suspected cases of COVID-19 at his school. They did this out of, as you probably guessed by now, An Abundance of Caution. I respect, applaud and wholeheartedly approve of this measure and any other move that will keep my babies as healthy and safe as possible.

In the wisdom afforded them by the Goddess, the county I live in has decided now to close the school districts, including the largest of them, which my ducks are all enrolled in. I watched a news conference where a man sat for about an hour and effectively said the same thing over and over again using slightly different forms of emphasis on the words he was speaking. I counted, and I started long after he did, fifty-three instances where he used the words “Department Of Health”. Now while I agree that the schools should not unilaterally decide to close whenever they want to in a situation like this, when entire states, ENTIRE STATES, are closing their schools, perhaps they could, they being the Council of Superintendents and the aforementioned Department of Health, could look a little farther afield to seek the answers that I cannot imagine are easy to ascertain in a situation such as this.

Now we come to my dilemma.

Legally, in the state I live in, there is no legal recourse for me to keep my children home out of an abundance of caution. There is no way that I can do this without falling into the category of a neglectful parent and possibly have all sorts of authorities at my doorstep within, literally, hours of me making this particular decision.

I understand it is important for children to go to school. I also understand that purposely holding them out of school is a form of neglect.

However, what I do not understand is why I cannot use my rights as a parent to keep my children home in the face of a pandemic. Especially when the Dump-Truck scouring Cheeto-Faced-Shit-Gibbon who runs my particular country seems to be okay with people below a certain income stratum dying because they cannot afford the insane prices for the tests that will tell them if they have this thing, never mind the costs of all of the things that are associated with the actuality of contracting it.

I will follow the local, state, and federal laws because losing my children to any of those entities a thing that simply will not happen. I just needed to say words and get this all of my chest.


Let’s Chat, Shall We?

There are a lot of buttons you can push on me and I will get angry nearly instantaneously. Some of them as trifling as whether the taste of one whiskey is better than the other. I know I need to work on this and I thank the people who bring it to my attention that I am being a pedantic asshole over things. I do.

Then there are the things that are fundamental to who I am as a human being. Those I can not let go.

Most days I would start this by apologizing in advance, trigger warnings, all sorts of things. No. Not now. If you are offended by the things I say and the ways in which I say them, that is on you to resolve, not me. It is not my, or any other human being’s job to control our language to spare your feelings, thoughts, and beliefs a little bump in the hallway.

That being said, let us get the things begun that I wish to begin, yes?

I am a polyamorous person. If you ignore the horrors of the root words incestuous Greek and Latin split root words, you will find it means many and love. In the modern context, it means a lot of things, but to me, it means that I am emotionally and physically capable and desirous of multiple romantic partners, not even necessary sexual mind you, remember that word, sexual, it becomes very important here in a little bit.

I am not greedy, overreaching, a manipulator, a cheater, or any combinations of synonyms that can be attributed to those things. I am OPEN and HONEST in my communication with the partners I have. I do not sneak off to places and have dirty little fucking secrets, literally or metaphorically in this case. The person I am seeing, if they have another partner, they know about me, they might not understand all of it, agree with all of it, or even participate in finding a secondary partner themselves, but they are aware of my existence and my relationship with their partner.

I will not get into the sociological aspect of it, I know I am not educated enough to do so. However, for you Jesus folk, come on over and sit with me a sec, let me tell you a thing.

I don’t care. I haven’t cared about the bible in more years than some of you have been alive and I sure as hell am not going to get lectured by someone who read a meme on a website and thinks they have the moral high ground.

I have already rid my immediate surroundings of most of you, but if I catch you speaking about my children again in any context I will happily go back to prison where I can read for the rest of my life knowing you won’t be able to spout bullshit like a fountain. So you close your mouth about what you don’t understand and I will turn my back and ignore the fact you exist.

NO, I am not saying polyamory is the ONLY way to go. The word CHOOSE is important here, isn’t it? If it is not for you, I will gladly respect that and wish you the best with your one, or even no partner. I am not “converting” people to my cause. I am trying to make people understand that it is MY choice, that’s all.

Let’s keep going, shall we?

You same people who spout on and on about Bible verses you think you know are the same people who tell me that my children wouldn’t have autism if I didn’t vaccinate them.

Of yes, you said precisely that.

Firstly, I will not listen to the “science” you have as it is not only wrong and easily refuted, it is dangerous and life-threatening. Secondly, you read a thing on a blog. Which, I am guessing is where YOU went to get the decade-plus of education that my son’s pediatrician did? You have seen life and death both in your multiple trips to Susan’s Facebook post?

Lastly…Oh yes lastly.

Your logic tells the world that you would rather have a child that is more likely to die incredibly young from preventable diseases than to have them be autistic. In other words, Autism is a fate worse than death in your opinion.

I am not the world’s best father. I know that. I have multiple weak points that I face EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I love my children more than anything, as a matter of fact, you probably love yours just as much.

The difference is that while I may have two autistic children, I do not see them as you do. I see a smile that will melt your frozen fucking heart in half and a little boy who can sing more gangster rap songs than I can. I see a boy who tries every day to do things doctors keep telling me he can’t and a little dude that loves hugging random people because he knows it makes them fucking happy.

So they should just be dead? They should have been allowed to contract the diseases you and your kind are allowing to come back after being ERADICATED in this country? I should have just, what, shipped them away and tried again? You ignorant and uppity fuck.

This concludes my motherfucking TED Talk.


Thankfulness – My Kitten That Roars

The first time I met Bethany was just a few weeks after I moved back from Kansas the last time. We were at a diner in the city, at a social thing, and we hit it off really well, and it was almost instantly. We talked for hours and hours that first day, carried it over to website chats after and eventually texting back and forth nearly constantly. After a few weeks, we were virtually inseparable, this is all when the dear lady had to drive the sixty miles one way to come and see me.

Now there are a lot of stories I could share with you, but two instantly come to mind and since they are intrinsically connected in the grand scheme of things, I will tell you both because I can do that thing and if you don’t want to read it you can go away and that is okay too.

My middle duck, My Connorface, has severe mental and physical disabilities. He doesn’t speak, walk, or even really crawl, and that is today, I am talking about almost ten years ago and he has made strides since then to improve on all of those areas. He wears diapers and constantly engages in involuntary self-injurious behaviors.

Now, knowing none of this at first, Bethany walked into where we were living at the time and picked him up and held him and loved him like he was her own and that hit my Naomi and I like a shotgun shell tot he chest. No one holds my Connorface see, not his grandparents, not his uncles, no one. Bethany just came in and held him and treated him exactly like Naomi and I did, like a sweet and wonderful little boy who has a laugh that will make your heart melt. He loved her to pieces too and would laugh and smile as soon as he saw her in the room.

If that doesn’t make you smile one of those half-tearful parental smiles, well, you have no heart and there isn’t much I can do for you.

The second story is truly one of my favorite things to tell people when I tell them about my mother and father-in-law.

Naomi was about three months pregnant with the Babeh Duck when we moved back to New York. In fact, it was a huge reason we moved back. I wanted my kid to be born at Strong, so I moved my entire life back to a place where I left running years before.

The day that Naomi went in to have the little dude, a date we got to pick because we were awesome, we got there and went through the agony of the entire process. Sweaty palms, anesthesia, screaming baby, Neonatal Intensive Care, all of it. That story is told elsewhere, this one is about the first time the little newborn got to be held by someone who wasn’t one of his parents.

My mother-in-law came down for the whole thing, my father-in-law couldn’t be bothered, and had been with us from minute one and was actually a colossal help.

However, it was Bethany that got to hold my youngest son first. Not her, not my family, Bethany. Now as much as I would love to say it was just to rub it in my mother-in-law’s face, which let’s be honest it kind of was in a way, Bethany had been there for all of the ups and the downs and the tears and the everything. Doctor Appointments, emergency trips to prenatal cardiologists, all of it and more. it was Bethany that had been there. Bethany that had done. Bethany that had been a rock that Naomi and I both clung to like sailors in a storm when it got to be the worst of the worst.

When I called Bethy the morning Naomi died, she didn’t even think about it and was there in what seemed like moments. Another rock I clung to on that day. For weeks afterward in fact, even to this very morning where I am writing about the woman and leaving out chunks and wholes because certain stories are mine and hers alone.

My Bethany, the kitten that is playful and loving, laughing loudly and proudly, loving Def Leppard and the Muppet Show, making a sauce that rivals Italian grandmothers, a consummate friend, and human being.

All my love Bethy, always.