Revisionism, erasure, implied book burnings, not a fan. My Son hates ceiling fans, he has to be aware if they are on at all times. We have two in the house. There is one in our bedroom that he looks at every morning just to make sure it is not moving. The other is in the back room, where I'm typing this on a warm spring day in Columbus. When he was in the kitchen earlier he stared at the back room to make sure the ceiling fan was not moving closer to him. It's not.
There used to be one in his bedroom, but that was taken out shortly after he was born and replaced with a dimmer until that he broke as soon as he was able to move the switch.
None of this has much to do with the poem I wrote today, but it's still Autism Awareness and he's still singing at 6AM after not getting to sleep past midnight. Happy Easter.
Burn me out of your brain and see what replaces me
Erase me, revise me out of history
Ignore me, drop me, block me
Invite me nowhere, trip me in the aisle
You want to roast me
Tell me more about roasting
Avoid me, befoul me
You want to roast me
Put me in your oven
I step on pressure cookers daily
You want to roast me
You want to roast all the dudes my age
When we become shoveled ashes for you to dance upon
who will you find to roast next?
Tell me more
I will show you ovens demand fuel
Who will you roast when you reach my age
Fires are thirsty they need asses after
my old ass gets roasted
Prepare for your search, your hunt for purity
I have the means for you to forget me
It’s cheaper than you think
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Monday, August 8, 2016
Not enough miles
Been working on gathering information and forms to renew my passport. Next year will be ten years that I’ve had one. An essential item to have if you travel internationally and easier (I think) to use if you have to endure flying domestically.
Like most, time and money have kept me from traveling as much as I want to. Except now that the pound has sunk to amazing lows, we can’t get over there to take advantage. When I first went to the UK in 2007, the pound was almost $2.00 to one. That was brutal. Now, thanks to the Brexit nonsense, it’s been at about $1.32, which is freaking unreal. Of course this is all going to change when the markets collapse next year, but that’s another story entirely.
Today my wife starts a new job. It’s a small miracle she got the interview but she worked really hard to get the position. Did it all by herself and I’m very proud of her.
Next week my son starts at a new school that specializes in special needs students. It’s scary and terrifying but we think it is going to be a better place for him in the long run. The change in routine will probably be an ordeal, but that should settle down in a few weeks.
Been trying to write. Got two rejections last week, and I accept them. If you’re not in the game you cannot complain about it. Which got me to thinking a bit about slam. Last weekend was the National Poetry Slam. I did not follow it. Have no idea who is on the team from Baltimore that won. Slam’s a game I have not been able to commit to for about three years. I also think I peaked out, have no added value to really offer and am just plain not good enough to really compete. That lack of commitment is on me. Some days I want to get back to it, others make me realize it’s good to let others have the playground.
Like most, time and money have kept me from traveling as much as I want to. Except now that the pound has sunk to amazing lows, we can’t get over there to take advantage. When I first went to the UK in 2007, the pound was almost $2.00 to one. That was brutal. Now, thanks to the Brexit nonsense, it’s been at about $1.32, which is freaking unreal. Of course this is all going to change when the markets collapse next year, but that’s another story entirely.
Today my wife starts a new job. It’s a small miracle she got the interview but she worked really hard to get the position. Did it all by herself and I’m very proud of her.
Next week my son starts at a new school that specializes in special needs students. It’s scary and terrifying but we think it is going to be a better place for him in the long run. The change in routine will probably be an ordeal, but that should settle down in a few weeks.
Been trying to write. Got two rejections last week, and I accept them. If you’re not in the game you cannot complain about it. Which got me to thinking a bit about slam. Last weekend was the National Poetry Slam. I did not follow it. Have no idea who is on the team from Baltimore that won. Slam’s a game I have not been able to commit to for about three years. I also think I peaked out, have no added value to really offer and am just plain not good enough to really compete. That lack of commitment is on me. Some days I want to get back to it, others make me realize it’s good to let others have the playground.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Reasons to be sad and unhappy
The one and only time I was on a horse, it stopped and rolled over on to its back. I had to jump clear so I would not have been crushed.
I did not get back on that horse.
While I was away I received an email from my son's mother saying that he was accepted into a equine therapy program about a half hour north of us. I've heard that horse riding may be beneficial for autistic children and I was as pleased as she was that he was accepted. It's been funded through some generous donations so it's free to us and the other dozen or so participants in the program.
Why not, right?
The orientation session was this afternoon. There were a number of screaming, quirky kids in the corral. My son was not happy more or less from the get go. There was a ceiling fan in the waiting area that bothered him. The noise other people were making bothered him. The smell of the barn probably bothered him.
He went to his mother's car and got in the back seat saying "Bye bye" and "Time to go" over and over.
We waited for him to calm down and then brought him back into the barn to wait for his turn to get on the horse. He did not like getting sized for the helmet. And when the time came, he did not want to stay in the area where the horses were. It's not that he was afraid of the horses, but this was not what he wanted to do today. None of this was in any of the routines he knows and he reacted in the only way he knows how.
The horses seem to be quite chill and I'm very impressed with the ability of the volunteers who work with the kids. One of them while on a horse for the first time, was asked to put his hands over his head, "It's too dangerous" was his logical reply.
Sometimes, ok, most of the time I have no idea what to do to help my son. We're blindly throwing therapies, treatments and coping solutions at the wall - trying to find some hope in whatever sticks. I wonder who we're really doing this for. Him, or us. He can't sit there in his iPad all day, watching videos (do as I say not as I do) it's my job as a parent to try and socialize him. So I try not to once again feel like a failure as I read about all these super fantastic and authentic parents leading and teaching their kids to all kids of accolades.
Meanwhile, we cheer when my kid plays with a garden hose.
In two weeks, the sessions will have fewer kids and we'll try again. Maybe this time he'll be ready to take the next step.
As if that was not enough, on Saturday I found out that one of my co-workers died on Friday. She worked next to me and was one of the most giving people I've ever met. I know her health was not great, but this is a real blow, and not how I wanted to end a vacation. She'd been with the library for about fifty years. Not sure what kind of maelstrom I'm going to be going into Monday morning.
I did not get back on that horse.
While I was away I received an email from my son's mother saying that he was accepted into a equine therapy program about a half hour north of us. I've heard that horse riding may be beneficial for autistic children and I was as pleased as she was that he was accepted. It's been funded through some generous donations so it's free to us and the other dozen or so participants in the program.
Why not, right?
The orientation session was this afternoon. There were a number of screaming, quirky kids in the corral. My son was not happy more or less from the get go. There was a ceiling fan in the waiting area that bothered him. The noise other people were making bothered him. The smell of the barn probably bothered him.
He went to his mother's car and got in the back seat saying "Bye bye" and "Time to go" over and over.
We waited for him to calm down and then brought him back into the barn to wait for his turn to get on the horse. He did not like getting sized for the helmet. And when the time came, he did not want to stay in the area where the horses were. It's not that he was afraid of the horses, but this was not what he wanted to do today. None of this was in any of the routines he knows and he reacted in the only way he knows how.
The horses seem to be quite chill and I'm very impressed with the ability of the volunteers who work with the kids. One of them while on a horse for the first time, was asked to put his hands over his head, "It's too dangerous" was his logical reply.
Sometimes, ok, most of the time I have no idea what to do to help my son. We're blindly throwing therapies, treatments and coping solutions at the wall - trying to find some hope in whatever sticks. I wonder who we're really doing this for. Him, or us. He can't sit there in his iPad all day, watching videos (do as I say not as I do) it's my job as a parent to try and socialize him. So I try not to once again feel like a failure as I read about all these super fantastic and authentic parents leading and teaching their kids to all kids of accolades.
Meanwhile, we cheer when my kid plays with a garden hose.
In two weeks, the sessions will have fewer kids and we'll try again. Maybe this time he'll be ready to take the next step.
As if that was not enough, on Saturday I found out that one of my co-workers died on Friday. She worked next to me and was one of the most giving people I've ever met. I know her health was not great, but this is a real blow, and not how I wanted to end a vacation. She'd been with the library for about fifty years. Not sure what kind of maelstrom I'm going to be going into Monday morning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)