VENTING...ONE, TWO, THREE...

Just a vent. I don't know who said that "A man's home is his castle." Well, my kingdom is in turmoil. The chariot is getting repairs (just under five hundred dollars and I won't get it until tomorrow). The plumber won't be here until next week so the hot water is still running, along with the electric bill. So much for the royal flush. The feral kittens continue to act like Axl Rose off his medication in a newly minted hotel room. One of the other cats is bulimic. I swear he is. How else to explain the hair balls that look like road kill? I'm too depressed to get my lazy butt into proper cleaning mode. I know the neighbours actually look forward to doing the lawn. I don't put down weed kill, which means dandelions. If the cold ever stops, they will grow. I suppose one day they will storm the house, like the peasants in Frankenstein stormed the castle, with torches ablaze. They will be in a frenzy over the fluffy things on the dandelions. They will want to prevent the spread of the evil monster and will thus burn the castle. Heaven forbid, those fluffies take to the wind.

A LITTLE ARM CHAIR ANALYSIS

`````Time for a little armchair psychoanalysis. I've been a bit interested in the Caylee Anthony case. Again, I am more interested in how seemingly "normal" people can sit back and support those who do evil. Yes, I am talking about Cindy Anthony and her continueed support of her daughter. For I don't think unconditional love of one's child exists, nor do I think it should. If somebody in my family were to do a horrid act, I would not allow them to go on with their charade or their actions. In this case it involved another family member; a younger one that could not defend herself.

`````When I first saw a small snippet of this family on some news segment I could have sworn that I was watching an episode of "Intervention". There's a strangely familiar dynamic on that show. The kid had a problem. The kid told Mom or Dad (although it is usually the mother). Mom opted either to not believe the child or did not act on the information as it would have interferred with her love life. Years later, Mommy Dearest feels guilty and then tolerates the addict's behavior. I think that in almost every episode of that show involving a female addict, abuse as a child is involved. When police searched the Anthony home, they found that prior to the little girl going missing, Casey had looked for information on her computer regarding incest. Why? Had she been a victim of some relative at a point in her life and told her mother about it only to have it ignored or worse, to be called a liar?

`````My summation of Cindy Anthony is that she has to control everything. Even with a toddler living in the house her living room was immaculate. I believe that her daughter Casey used lying as her way to seek a control mechanism, as do people who develop eating disorders. It was her form of protest and her rebellion. It was probably the only way she felt that she could have any privacy in her life when she was young. Once it was selected as a coping skill it became entrenched. I think she has Borderline Personality Disorder; thus the stealing and need for constant affirmation from new boyfriends.

`````Her manufactured world of lies would only work while Caylee was a baby. As she grew, the child could give away her secrets to her mother. The child could divulge that in fact she had no job, that there was no babysitter, that mommy liked to party a lot and had many boy friends.

`````Sadly, I believe that the little girl, Caylee, had been drugged for some time when the mother went out. There is also the possibility that the gasoline that Casey's father had reported her as stealing could have been used to put the girl to sleep. People were shocked to hear that many residents of a town in Labrador actually thought it was okay to use gasoline soaked rags to enduce sleep in a restless child. Perhaps one night, Casey just lost it. There were reports that she'd had a huge fight with her mother Cindy. One of many that they'd had all their lives. Perhaps she gave the kid way too much than usual to knock her out in her frustration. A classic passive aggressive move.

`````My guess is the duct tape over the girl's mouth was placed there in a symbolic way. Obviously there is no need to put tape over the mouth of the dead. However, there is when it has meaning to you. Now she cannot reveal the lies. Now she cannot betray your secrets to your mother.

`````George Anthony is also interesting in that he had squandered a huge sum of money from the family's finances on the classic internet scheme of the money in the African bank account. As George had been a cop, he must have known that this was a scam. It only makes sense if this was his one form of rebellion against his wife. The only way he could get back at her.

`````I watched the police intereviews of Cindy and George. Cindy tries to take control of the interview, as she does in her media interviews. I suspect there was a lot going on in that house we will never know about.

`````It is obvious that Casey killed the girl and that she was sane when she did it. The fact that one may have psychological issues does not mean that one cannot differentiate between right and wrong. This entire case shows us that we never know what goes on behind the doors of that perfect house and how important it is that we look after children. When a child can disappear for one entire month from under the noses of a nurse and an ex-police officer it means we still need to work on the system. Every kid that is abused or hurt or has their personality destroyed is one too many.

NOT THIS GIRL

`````For the life of me, I cannot figure out why anybody would be photographed naked. I couldn't help but think about it this week. I admit to picking up one of "those" magazines at the checkout and it was speculating on whether Rihanna had a secret sex tape with Chris Brown. Then, there were two papers with stories involving teens sending explicit photos to each other. It even has a name (though I doubt it's yet recognized by Webster's). Sexting. High tech "Ill show you mine if you show me yours." Except it usually only goes one way. It's apt to be the Homecoming Queen who gives up her title for revealing too much of that royal sash. It's highly doubtful that the King will photograph and send the crown jewels around the school. All this came on top of another story warning kids not to post explicit pictures of themselves on social networking sites.

`````Never mind the dreaded ten pounds which the camera adds. I don't get this sudden desire to take pictures with your tongue down a friend's throat. Call me a prude. I've been known to ingest a huge and complex variety of alcohol in my time. Other then a sad foray into the basin of the washroom, my tongue has stayed in my mouth. It has yet to be filmed anywhere---especially near anybody. Nowhere on my Facebook account is it visible.

`````I've always had male friends and that would certainly bring the desire to point, click and snap to a grinding halt. Trust me, guys talk. They say women gossip but it's nothing on men when they get to dishing. Anybody in possession of such photos would want to share. It's sad, but there is still a double standard. If you're a woman and you do that sort of thing, your stock goes down.

`````The sharing of the pictures doesn't always have to be in a smutty way. I had a guy show me a series of wallet sized boudoir photos his wife had taken. They were classy and well done. But, I highly doubt that she would have been thrilled to know that he was showing the guys (and one female) the "goods" . He was merely proud of her and wanted to brag. Like the new car.

`````So many relationships break up. There are actually revenge sites where people go to post intimate photos of their dearly departed. Unless they invent photos that can be triggered with a device that self destructs when the partnership does, I shall keep the camera safely away from my naked self. One would also have to worry about prying eyes and thieves. Perhaps a safe with a combination akin to the launch code of a nuclear silo might keep it safe, but I suspect that Tommy Lee and Pam had pretty good security and their moment of passion has had more hits than Amy Winehouse's bong.

`````I guess people could always claim to belong to one of those religions where they fear that cameras steal their souls if somebody is very keen on this. Or that they're a vampire. Just one more thing that I blame on reality television....ah, the decline of Western civilization as we know it.

VICTORIAN? HARDLY.

`````Just when you thought that it was safe....she's back. This woman has more lives than a cat, evidentally. At times she has an uncanny assemblance to another cold, young, female killer who is currently on trial in Italy (Foxy Knoxy). However, while Meredith Knox smiles and primps as she smirks for the camera, Kelly Ellard showed only a grimace and disdain. For, Ellard seems to lack the intellect to know that she should at least fake having a conscience or personality for the viewing public. Sarah Palin may call herself a pitbull with lipstick. Kelly Ellard is the shark sporting the same.

`````Kelly Ellard showed no remorse at all over her involvement in the killing of Reena Virk, whose body was found under a bridge in the staid, quaint town of Victoria. She had orchestrated a beat-down of Reena for petty, teenaged girl stuff. She thought that Reena was spreading "shit" about her. As is so often the case, there was a boy that Reena had a crush on and Ellard did not take well to this.

`````The beating was particularily brutal and extended. Imagine being surrounded by a large number of girls, some of whom you thought were your friends from school. It is dark. She was hit so hard that it caused damage to the liver and pancreas. The muscles in her abdominal wall were bruised to the point that the fatty tissue separated from the muscle tissue. One would expect to see this sort of damage in car crash victims. The internal bleeding in her chest indicated that they had stomped on her. There was extensive bruising on her face and scalp. Reena's brain was swollen. In fact, there was a bruise on her brain itself which bore a sneaker print. The actual cause of death was drowning.

`````Reena, it turns out, had been held under the water by Kelly, who later told people about the bloody froth that came up. She smoked a cigarette while Reena sucked up 18 pebbles from the bottom of the bay in a last gasp for air.

`````I mentioned in a previous blog that I expect bad and evil people to exist in the world. What fascinates me is that a very large number of "so-called" normal, white middle-class kids knew who did this and said nothing. This harkens back to my blog on an event in highschool and what inspired me to study Criminology at university. It was only after the rumours had spread to the point of outsiders hearing of them that a dive team found the body. Kelly Ellard almost got away with murder.

`````How it takes four trials to convict and keep her in prison is beyond me. Nevertheless, she had just been granted her fourth kick at the can. Who does this serve? The victim's family can have no peace. The tax payers continue to foot the bill. The public is rightfully angry. On one of her retrials she beat up a 58 year old woman in a park that she thought was looking at her. Her co-accused accepted guilt and did his time. He has since cascaded through the system and Reena's family accepts that he seems truly remorseful.

`````The greatest display of grace came from Reena Virk's mother who hugged the mother of Kelly Ellard at the trial. She saw that this monster was not a reflection of her failure as a parent. Somewhere she found the strength to do that. Unfortunately, while Reena was dragged from the cold water, Kelly Ellard continues to bob like a cork in avoiding accountability.

`````May I suggest that people read "Under the Bridge" by Rebecca Godfrey. It is an excellant recounting of this entire case, up until the granting of this fourth appeal. Ms Godfrey spoke to the participants in the event (including the coaccused) and truly gets to the heart of the matter.
CBC News Indepth: The murder of Reena Virk: A timeline

JUST LET ME HIDE IN LEFT FIELD

I hate training days. It harks back to school when I dreaded speaking in front of people. Trust me, it does not get better with age.

It starts with the scheduling of the event itself. Despite people who actually profess to do this, it always comes as a big surprise. I might as well call the psychic network and talk to Jackie Stallone for $3.99 per minute as I'd probably garner more information. There's also the insanity of having me come in for one midnight shift, then do two day shifts of training and then expect me to come in for my graveyards that night. Uh, ha. I haven't slept more than two hours in two days. I bought a box of Gravol the other day and took six of them alone last night to try to get some sleep. I slept one hour. Good times.

I've always been told that I was a latent lefty, despite being right handed. I have horrid memories of elementary school team sports and teachers telling me that I was holding whatever piece of equipment wrong. I made sure that I always hid in far left field. I hated team sports. You couldn't get me to sign up for a team if you paid me. I digress, but I honestly think that gym teachers do more in developing a dislike for all eternity of sports and fitness than encouraging it. If they'd just leave the damned kids alone, maybe they'd like activities. Another topic for another blog, perhaps.

Today's training day, as was yesterday's, was self defence. Bear with me. If I spent time thinking about where my latent leftie self should place my footing, the bad guy would have me. I am not going to have the time to act out "Dancing With the Stars" type manoeuvers in my head. I'll just do what works for me. Call me a spazz, but it won't be fixed after all these years.

I hate having to do this stuff in front of a bunch of people that I do not know. Today there was me and one other woman and the rest of the room was all males. I freeze up when I have to speak in front of people and at some point I literally wouldn't be able to tell you my name. Try it on two hours sleep in two days, a Gravol hangover and six Tylenol three for the headache.

The advice given is great, I guess. I don't know. I am so flustered and in such a tizzy and hoping that the great flood and plague will arrive so it will end my disgrace. Where is that comet strike when you need it? Spare me this ignomicy. I am literally wishing for death. Ah, yes...training day...

I also get weird about having to touch people and having them touch me. It's always going to be there. The weight thing. I've also always had a huge personal space and my family was not demonstrative at all. Then there is the realization all too late that one of the cats may have sprayed my boots. My Diet Pepsi exploded all over me too. So, this was not a great day at all. Yes, training day sucks. Perhaps if I looked like a supermodel I wouldn't feel this way. Maybe if the teachers hadn't badgered me about how I held my bat when I was eight years old. Whatever...just leave me alone and let the bad guy, if he ever shows up, get me. I think it would be less painful then having to stand in front of people and having them watch me make an idiot out of myself.

TICK THE BOX AND MAKE YOUR CHOICE

`````The recent news reminded me of the choices which we are sometimes forced to make. By having a living will we can make it easier.

`````I had a friend ask me if I would be with him to help him die, should the time come. My friend knew that his fight with AIDS was lost. He was now literally a skein of translucent, gossamer flesh over brittle bones. Gone were the days when he could sit on the patio and sip cocktails under the lights which he'd strung. He had once built things; a big, strong lean body had been his to flaunt. Now there was a box attached to the outside of his heart so that injections could be made easier. His veins were gone.

`````He loved life and had been raised Catholic. He had once rejected the idea of assisted suicide but he knew that if he went into the hospital, his mother could never make the choice to turn off the machines. He also could not tolerate the idea of dementia. He knew that my friend and I would do it right and that we would not balk at the end---leaving him to suffer alone. He also knew the consequences.

`````Friendship. The true meaning of it sometimes comes down to these sorts of decisions. We said yes. Thankfully, he went quickly and without pain in the hospital. We did not have to risk it all.

`````I have had to be in the room when the plug was pulled for others that I cared for. To watch the family make that decision is sad and it is important to have others around. To hold the hands of the dying is a profound experience to which I cannot find words. The whispered last words. More than anything, there is the hope that they know that they were loved and valued and that their loved ones will continue to be cared for. For while we are but animals, I think we want to have some meaning in our lives and to think that we made a difference---that it means more than just foraging from one day to the next.

`````As soon as I was legally allowed to do so, I signed a donor card and made my wishes known. The CCU is not the place for somebody else to have to make that decision. Now, if only I can find a placement for my brood of cats.......

JUST PUZZLED

The Weather Camera near my area on March 16. ...........................................................This is from a few months ago and shows flooding (local newspaper).

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Just curious. We've been told that we've had record snow and cold. Yet, the radio just reported that we may have to restrict our water this summer. Now, I don't water the lawn anyways, as I figure why encourage the damned thing. But, something isn't right. I think it's a scam to drive up the price of our energy bill in the summer months.

SCHOOL MISHAPS

I am saddened by the news of Natasha Richardson's skiing accident and I wish her well. I do not downhill ski despite living in a place where there is certainly a lot of chance to do so (it snowed here today---again---in the middle of March). In fact, I recall the first time I tried the sport. It was with a school event. The person in front of me on the rope tow fell off and there was a sickening snap as her leg bone broke in two. I saw and heard the entire thing. I hobbled off and stood with the poor girl until help arrived. I merely remember being cold and miserable for the rest of the day.

I guess that I have a few "what were they thinking?" moments from school. I had a teacher, who I loved and I must admit has truly inspired me. One of her beliefs was that we should all learn to play chess. We also carved our own chess pieces with x-acto knives. The girl at the desk to the left of me was working intently on a piece when the knife slipped. It went into her arm and like a salmon's underbelly being opened, her arm was sliced open all the way down. The newspaper below her desk which had meant to catch the droppings from the carving was sodden with blood instantly. I watched her head down the hall with the teacher. There was literally a stream of blood the entire way.

Then there was the field trip where I knocked myself out. The one and only time in my life. We went to a rockwall in the area which would be familiar to people as it is often used in films and television shows. I stepped backwards and there was a large dip. That was the last I remembered except that I saw stars. I've fallen numerous times since then and hit my head hard but I was out for a bit. I actually bit through my lower lip and had teeth marks on the outside of my face. My reaction? The usual; I downplayed it and did not seek help.

Another memory is quite amusing, actually, in a demented way. The end of school had arrived and we were assembled in the gym to watch a film. They had opted to show us a Disney classic. The choice? "Old Yeller". For those not familiar with the film, the dog is shot at the end. Imagine an entire auditoriumn full of weeping children on the last day of school prior to the summer holidays. Good times.

Were it to happen today I am sure somebody would sue for pain and suffering, then demand that the teacher be reprimanded. It's sad how we've made everything so safe, however. Our playgrounds were more rough and tumble. Now, it's all so bland. I have scars on my knees but I had fun getting them. I think that the kids now may be more protected but they are missing a lot.

THE DENIAL OF NEED

~~~~~I had a friend phone from back east and we talked for about four hours again. In doing so, it solidified something for me.

~~~~~I realized that somewhere along the way I equated the need for help or assistance, especially in regards to physical and mental health, with weakness or failure. Conversely, doesn't this also mean that I feel some degree of contempt for people who don't hold their needs in check? Won't I, therefore, look down on people who crave an emotional connection? And what if it's directed towards wanting something from me? How can I then respect that person? There mere fact that they are interested in me then somehow makes them flawed and suspect.

~~~~~There's a belief that smart people should be able to fix their own problems, but it just means that smart people can over analyze them to death. An intelligent person need not know anything about pipes, so there's no shame in calling in the plumber when there's a leak. Why not ask for help when it's of the emotional variety? I guess not having control of the toilets isn't as scary as not having control of the internal crap. Bizarre how I'd pick the plumber metaphor. I guess it's actually quite Freudian. I equate emotions and needs with waste matter---both embarrassing things that one does not talk about; best dealt with in private. Both bad things to be gotten rid of. Dirty.

~~~~~Then it really hit me. We always say that Eating Disorders are about control. Well, what if they are more about the denial of need. Because need is scary. It gives others the power to disappoint, and invariably they do. People are human and will let you down. But, how come I can see that fallibility in others and accept it yet not allow that imperfection in myself?

~~~~~It is impossible to predict the behavior of other people, so it's best to avoid them. You tell yourself that you don't care or need them. When it gets impossible to live that way, just channel that energy on food instead. I do not need even that which is most basic to human survival. Yet, the experts have also concluded that we need human touch and close bonds. So won't the outcome of shutting down emotionally be the same as rejecting nutrition? It just seems to be part of a self destructive pattern that was meant as a coping mechanism but now destroys and isolates.

~~~~~Obviously, we can fixate on our jobs, or cleaning or any other crazed activity that we choose to replace the actual thing that we need. At the end of the day it does not serve us; we remain disconnected from people and events around us and guarded emotionally. It's very limiting and frustrating when the solution seems so simple. I sometimes think that my life is like trying to get that air bubble out from behind a picture which I've mounted. I try to fix it, but it just moves around and doesn't go away. It's always there beneath the surface. So, while I may no longer be starving, I am doing something else. I am certainly not doing it with another human being. My anxiety or depression, like that air bubble trapped under the photo, just keeps popping up in other ways.

`````"Sticks and stones may Break my Bones,

``````But names will never hurt me." Perhaps one of the biggest lies to come out of childhood. For those names that people call themselves, and how they attempt to silence those voices, can ruin their lives.

LISTEN TO THE VOICE

`````Have you ever had the experience of owning a dog who likes everybody yet will display an aversion to a person for no obvious reason? The hackles will go up and the dog will growl as though it felt the need to defend you. I doubt that the animal was chasing windmills.

Dogs, like many animals, are extremely sensitive to things such as scent, changes in heat, etc. Interestingly enough, these are the same sorts of things that high-tech lie detection devices measure.

`````We are still part of the animal kingdom. We no longer have to rely on our senses to survive the way others in the food chain do so I think we've lost touch with those abilities, but I believe they are still there. People still make reference to that sort of chemistry when they talk in terms of romance. For example, they'll say that they were drawn to somebody. There's a multi billion dollar perfume industry that's looking into the power of pheromones.

`````I think that instinct can keep us alive and safe too, if we pay attention to it. I've always been very good at reading people. I've used numerous terms when I discuss it---vibes, feelings, whatever. I have not often been wrong. Even as a little kid I could tell when somebody was being insincere. I could see that while their mouth was smiling at me, their eyes had all the deadness of a shark.

`````The saddest confirmation that I ever had of this involved a man who worked for my Dad's company. My parents had gone away for their annual trip and I was looking after the family business. "John" came to pick up his cheque and I spoke with him for no more than five minutes. He was polite and did nothing wrong. When my parents returned I told my Mom that something was up with "John". I told her that I got the same vibe from him that I'd gotten from men who had real issues with women. I said that he was hiding something. My mother got really mad at me. She told me what I'd studied and done for a living had warped me and my perception of people.

`````Only a few years later, the truth came out in a horrid fashion. "John's" current wife had wanted to leave him and suddenly both were missing. It turns out that he had done ten years for killing his first wife. He had been sober since his release from prison but had started drinking when his marriage fell apart. Their bodies were found; murder/suicide.

`````I think we're socialized to be polite and because we don't want to be rude we don't pay that voice enough attention. Predators know this and take advantage of it. This is how women get hurt and made use of. This is certainly how they take advantage of the elderly. They know that they are probably on a train heading off the rails, yet they find it hard to pull the safety cord for fear of being disrespectful. Women put themselves at risk for diseases by staying with men that they suspect of cheating and most likely laughing about it. When the truth comes out, there is the double whammy because they are so often angry at themselves for having been "so stupid". That voice was there all along. Listen and heed.

`````Women can also manipulate or con others by playing the role of friend. In the meantime, there goes the bank account or the husband. One of the best movies is "All About Eve" as to some degree we've all had a "friend" like this at some point in our lives. It is actually one of the biggest and saddest betrayals out there. Yet in hindsight, when we are honest with ourselves, we have to admit our complicity in our own demise in some small way by wanting or needing that person in our lives to the point of ignoring the red flashing lights.

`````So, recognize that it isn't good to be paranoid, but don't be afraid to cross the street when those alarm bells start ringing upon sighting somebody. Know that there is a bit of a guard dog within you and let it rescue you.

E.A.P. FORGETS THIS ONE

`````"What happened to her?" Admit it. Either you've asked the question or somebody close to you has. After getting a job a woman you know has suddenly changed drastically in dimensions. I'm not talking the few extra pounds that a person might gain the first year they move away from home; I'm referring to the change which makes people step back. The elephant in the room (no pun intended). `````I've abused food out of anger and frustration myself. While I've written about my eating disorder in past blogs, it takes a long time for it to ever really "go away", especially if one doesn't seek treatment. Like any addiction, a person has relapses. Like any addiction, it is what one falls upon in times of stress.

`````There have been times when I have opened the fridge that I might as well have screamed the "F" word at the top of my lungs. The door was unleashed with the full fury of the prison gates after an evil dictator was felled. Out, out came the demons. The cause? Work. I was 22 years old when I began working in what had until then only recently been a mainly male occupation and they were not happy to employ women. We were sometimes reminded of that on a daily basis. To let them know that they had upset us would let them know that they had won.

`````I laugh when I hear people say that they binged when they refer to eating one cookie too many. I'd go full out. I'd pick up a take out order of spanokopita and then a pint of Haagan Daz. I'd top it off with a can of spray on whipped cream. Don't forget the batter; just eat the cookie dough raw. Of course, the finishing touch was the pink laxatives. They had a speed like effect on me in that they'd make my heart pound and skip and I would not be able to sleep. It took me a while to stop the food abuse. At some point the pain just got too bad. However, I now have severe TMJ so I think my coping mechanisms has just shifted. I still just clamp my mouth shut.

`````When a bad incident would happen at work, the men used to go out afterwards, once upon a time, to have a drink at the Legion. That used to be what people did. However, a woman couldn't do that. If she did, she would be accused of trying to steal somebody's husband or she would be labelled a tramp. How to deal? I think a lot of women resorted to the misuse of food. The Employee Assistance Program, which was developed sometime in the late l980's always seemed to direct itself towards problems which were male centered. Don't drink. Don't take it out on your spouse. I remember one pamphlet which they gave us that actually advised us to take up hobbies such as fishing or hunting. Great. For those on the edge, get a gun and kill something.

`````One woman that I once knew took up body building to the extreme. She would fast prior to a competition and eat nothing but egg whites. She managed to find a doctor who prescribed Ionamin. She somehow managed to sneak clenbuterol across the border for weight loss (which isn't even prescribed for humans). I'm sure she was on steroids, as one day at work she threatened to hit a male supervisor for no reason at all. Her jaw also developed the square build associated with the abuse of certain steroids.

`````I knew somebody else who exercised compulsively and went on and on about its benefits. There is nothing wrong with keeping fit in moderation, but I could tell that this person had crossed the line. We all know when somebody is using a behaviour for the wrong reasons.

`````I've thought about it, and I guess it comes back to that issue of control. We still do not have it to the same degree as men in the work place. Or, we still don't feel like we can voice our opinions. Unfortunately, we still find solace in food.

MY TAKE ON WHY PEOPLE JUST LEAVE

`````Migraines suck; I'm not talking about those ones on the television commercials where the woman takes some over the counter medication and goes on with her life. I spent my weekend with my head in a bucket and lost seven pounds just so that I could spin my sleeping rotation around. Anyways, I don't want to whine. Others may be in a chair or be forced to wear a burqua. I live with a chronic pain condition and have a shift-work sleep disorder which has changed my life.

``````I had to do a couple of day shifts so that I could requalify on CPR and get my certification for the AED . It got me thinking again on the comment that people no longer seem willing to stop and help at accident scenes as it came up in discussion today.

`````I have stopped two times on almost exactly the same stretch of road. The one time the road was a sheet of ice. I spotted a vehicle which had flipped over onto it's side, hit a pole and spun completely around. I stopped my car and I could hardly walk upright due to the very poor condition of the road. I could hear screaming coming from the inside of the car. While I have dealt with some ugly sights at work, I was preparing for the worst---maybe a car with kids inside. Luckily, it contained a very healthy, but confused woman. I had to climb onto the side of the vehicle, open the door and get her out.

````` My thanks? One year later I was driving through that town when I was pulled over by a police officer who thought that I looked familiar. I wasn't doing anything wrong. Yes indeed---I was familiar. I was the person who kept the woman in my car until that very police officer showed up and took the particulars of the accident.

`````A few years later I was on the same stretch of road and there was a man on a motor cycle a head of me. Out of no where, a car hit him. I slammed on the brakes and managed to stop as I always give riders on bikes more than the two car lengths recommended. I ran up and began to warn the man against moving, as I feared spinal cord injury. We had been doing fifty miles per hour at the time of impact and he had flipped a couple of times. I had fully expected to find a dead person. I thought that he might be going into shock as he was getting pale and shaky. His wife had been in the vehicle behind me so I was also trying to talk to her in a normal tone of voice to keep her calm.

````` After the ambulance removed the victim, the lone police officer asked if I would mind staying until the scene was cleared up so that he could take my witness statement. Every single person in the long line of cars stared at me as they went by. I've also gotten interviewed by the insurance agent at my house after my graveyard shift and by the victim's lawyer. I was savvy enough to write up the statement the minute I got home that night, as I know our memory changes. However, it is going to court. For my help? I've been asked questions such as "Was I perhaps playing with my stereo or cellphone" As I was a witness and in no part a contributer to the accident, this is an ignorant question. Besides, had I not been paying attention, I wouldn't have hit the brakes in time and I would have run over his client.

````` You hear stories more and more about people turning around and leaving the scene of an accident. My witness statement verified that the man on the bike did nothing wrong and was a good driver. I stopped to give the man help. I do not expect a reward. What I don't expect is undue consequences.

`````Sadly, I know somebody who is a top trained OR nurse. She will no longer stop for fear of being sued; good Samaritain Act or no. The proliferation of camera phones has made the paranoia worse. How something may look from a distance while filmed can differ from what actually went on. I guess I will have to wait and see how my day in court goes. I loathe public speaking. Wish me well. And yes...I heard the man had pelvic injuries but thankfully no spinal injuries although it's going to be a long road to recovery.

TWITTER? THANKS, BUT NO.

`````I don't get the Twitter thing at all. I'd never feel so deluded that I'd think that people would want an update of my every move in my mundane life. I've undertaken this blog as a way to force myself to write and as a means to vent. But with Twitter, there's the expectation that your friends and family are going to read and care that: "Now I'm going to the store." "Oh, it's on sale." All written in lower case and without punctuation, of course.

````` I'm a person who rarely, if ever, updates her Facebook status. It goes blank. Consider it an existential statement; my staring into the void, if you will. I'm actually just rather cognizant of the fact that nobody cares or reads this stuff, unless one is perhaps a Supermodel (and I'm not). Alas. I've already had my fill of people who seem to think that the rest of us want to hear their phone conversations broadcast at full volume. I don't think that they talk that loud when alone at home nor are the giggles that over the top. I find the people who text message others while eating out in fine restaurants bizarre. Now there's an avoidance strategy if I ever saw one. The ironic part is that men used to go on about women and talking on phones. Somehow, when cellphones and blackberries entered the picture it became okay for them to enter the fray as it is now "technology"; so it's not a chick thing.

`````Facebook said that they are changing their format because people want constant updates of information, often from their favorite celebrities. Most of those people cannot speak clearly without a P.R. handler. Has anybody read Courtney Love's rambling diatribes? Just imagine what this woman will be capable of when left to her own Twitter devices?

`````What I did realize, however, is that there is a whole untapped Government wastage potential here. Each department head needs, of course, to hire their very own personal Twitterer. This person's job is to enter the words of wisdom that "his master's voice" sets forth upon the unsuspecting masses. We already have the Department Spokesperson (we call ours the Designated Liar because he's only heard from when bad things happen). I think the perfect title would be the Designated Twit.

`````So, all you frustrated writers out there who blog, get your resumees ready.

GOING, GOING, GONE? I HOPE NOT.

A BEAUTIFUL VIEW

PRIME SOIL FOR FARMING

CHECK OUT THE SPIKES

Sadly, they want to develop the area. Nearby are much needed wetlands also. There are still a lot of wildlife in the area that hang out here.

A DOCUMENTARY FROM A TOWN I ONCE LIVED IN WITH PEOPLE MY FAMILY KNEW

Munsalasocialismen 1918-1945 Elävä arkisto yle.fi

I found this documentary by chance one day. I showed it to my Dad and he was most excited as he knew almost all of the people being interviewed. I believe that probably all of them have passed away now. He also said that he was one of the kids who had been blamed for walking into the 'hide-out" although they had not done so. The town had strong socialist beliefs and did not want to support the Germans during the Second World War. While they did not believe in what Russia stood for, they could not condone the actions of the Fascists either. The documentary is in Swedish (well, Finn-Swede which is a dialect). I thought I'd put it out there. There are two versions of the video listed. The 33 minute one is the better one. By the way, believe it or not, the interviews were done in the mid l970's in the town. As late as the late l960's, some homes here still did not have indoor plumbing. Even in the winter one would have to go outside to use the outhouse.

THE SOUNDS OF VIOLENCE

`````It's almost been a year. Time to file the paperwork for end of fiscal term, submit requests for vacation leave, that sort of thing. All very normal.

`````But it's not. New routines and structures are in place that are suppossed to prevent it from happening again. Yet, there is more to the mere physicality of a structure or a place which defines it. There is more to safety than solid walls and thick doors. For some, the events of a year ago changed things forever.

`````Violence does not have a soundtrack. There is no driving rap music or soaring arias to accompagny it when it descends. On that night it was strange what I missed.

`````I did not hear the gunshots. I was made aware that there had been a discharge but I was on the telephone trying to call people. When we compared notes later, the people in the midst of it all had their own perspectives. The sound of violence to them was an instantenous roar; that it came from humans in a spontaneous explosion only gives credence to books like "The Lord of the Flies". Violence is breaking glass, items beating against doors as others try to gain entry and every item imaginable being broken. Yet, in the midst of it, one can make out the threats of harm. Those words are clear.

`````The sound of violence is the warm buzz in my ears, for somewhere in that maelstorm were people that I cared for. It wouldn't abate until I knew that they were safe. Then it would be replaced by the sounds of silence, for I had to continue doing what I was doing. I could not call out to them. I had to look at people and hope that my eyes caught theirs and conveyed my concern and anger that this had happened. So many messages without words.

`````It is the usual cacophany of sounds with which we have become familiar from television; the emergency vehicles and people moving quickly by. It is people calling out orders and the need for medical attention. It is the sound of vomiting as an aftermath.

`````When I finally arrived home it was the sound of the answering machine. There were the voices of people who wanted me to call right away to let them know I was okay, for by now the story was on the news.

`````The sound of violence resonates. It does not go away and for the people directly involved it echoes in individual ways. When will that finally be understood? It is not a single act that goes away. It is a powerful energy with a long life---thus is the nature of physics. The hurt parties need to be treated with respect by a system that appreciates them and not merely silenced.