I Didn't Want To Grow Up, Still Don't

OK, so here's the deal. I grew up and I'm not who I wanted to be when I grow up. I could probably leave it at that and a great deal many of you would nod in agreement, know exactly what I'm talking about, and feel either sorry for me, yourself, or both of us. I, however, like to ramble in a self-help sort of way about my life, so here it goes.

I was a child of the 80's and had fantastic dreams. I was a comic book reader, watched G.I. Joe and very much wanted to be a super hero. I wasn't very grounded to reality as a child, which is fine when you are a child. I had two loving parents, who spoiled me so. I had free reign to do just about anything I wanted to, within reason. I've never seen what hardship was really like and thus never had to learn about it till it hit me later in life. I went to Detroit Public Schools, and while I now criticize the Detroit Public School system, at the time, it worked well enough for me. I had teachers who generally cared about me as a student and it wasn't until later in life, looking back, that very strange things happened in school. For instance, a substitute teacher who constantly touched one my friends and did strange things like taking 100 sheets of paper and tried to cut them in the paper cutter all at once. He'd slam the blade down over and over again as if to intentionally try to creep out the kids. At one point, the principle asked us to each write down the events of one particular day regarding this teacher. I suppose it would be used against him in court or when he was fired. As a child who lived in fantasy world though, these events meant nothing, but I could see some other children get really spooked by this, maybe kids from a lesser family structure, one of abuse. I'm getting sidetracked.

People who choose to enter in a career of education are special people. They do it because they truly want to see children succeed. Now if they feel that way after working 10 years in an inner city school district where you have to buy your kids their supplies because neither the parents nor the school district can afford them, is a totally different story. Regardless, they start out with good intentions. Here is some Irony for you. When you are a "bad" kid in school, the teachers punish you and remind you that if you continue down this path that your life will be more difficult and you'll never amount to anything. They get the lower end of the education scale and most fulfill that teacher's premonition. When you are the "good" kid, you get the better end of the education and the teacher's praise, which goes straight to your head. You are never warned about what happens if you stray from the path, because you were never punished. But they had good intentions and that is what counts.

So yeah, I made some mistakes and man, did I have some excuses:

• My Mother died when I was 14 years old.
• My father was an Alcoholic and spent a lot of time drunk.
  
• My Dad lost his job and we lost our home when I was 16.
• Thus, I was living on my own at 16.

OK, so there are some of the excuses for the fact that, as a spoiled child, I had no idea what life was about or how to take care of myself. As for the mistakes I've made, I can't even begin to list them all, so I'll touch on the big one that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was convicted of a four count felony when I was 18 years old. Officially worded as the "Misuse of a financial transaction device", but essentially credit card fraud. Here's the story. I was working at a service station, mostly nights, and one day this guy comes in to buy some cigarettes and wants to know if he can get cash back on his credit card. This is against the store policy, but he was very persistent. Obviously, he was either a drunk or an addict and needed a fix, by the look of him. I relent, charge his card $20 and give him cash from the drawer. Of course, if this was a one time occurrence, It wouldn't of been a big deal, but he came in three times that week with the same request. After the third time, I told him to go elsewhere. It then occurred to me that the reason he kept coming back was because we had a $20, no validation, system. Meaning, to save the company money by avoiding associated fees from the credit card companies, they wouldn't validate the transaction if it was $20 or less. It would just automatically be approved. Many fast food restaurants use the same system in their drive thru to save time. So, the smart thing would of been to report it so that my butt would be out of trouble. But since we are talking about mistakes I made, I'll tell you what I really did. I put his credit card number in, took $20 out of the drawer and put it in my pocket. Over the course of 3 months, I supplemented my paycheck with stolen money amounting to about $5000.

So, I lost my job, ended up being convicted on 4 counts, had to pay back every dime plus about $2000 in court costs, did 100 hours of community service and now have to check that little box on employment applications that says I've been convicted of a felony. That, is the worst part. I'd wager that you'd be surprised on how often this effects your life, especially your employment. If I was the bad kid, the teacher would of said that I wouldn't amount to anything. In the United States, It is illegal to segregate against employment based on Religion, Race, Color, National Origin, Sex, Disability, Age, Marital Status, Height, Weight, Genetics, Family Status, or Arrest Record. If you are convicted of a felony, however, no employer has to hire you at all. Furthermore, you are obligated by law to let your employer know you have been convicted of a felony when this information is requested.

So there I was, working to pay off my bills, with dreams of returning to school to do something with my life and I now have to start over. Here's the real smack in the face that I gave myself. I want to be a teacher. I want to teach high school literature, read essays, grade papers and to help kids in the inner city school district to find something better than what they see every day. The problem is, regardless of my best intentions, the State of Michigan doesn't allow convicted Felons to obtain teaching certificates.

So, I've come to terms with the fact that I'll have to live without fulfilling that dream. Luckily, I found an employer that was willing to give me a chance with the full knowledge of my past mistakes. So I take my time, moving slowly through any decisions I have in life. Career changes are virtually impossible, unless it's a career in gambling which take people from all walks of life, so they tell me, or I start a company of my own. I'd hire me in a heartbeat.

I'd love to be a kid again. I'd love to live that carefree life of comic books and G.I. Joe, cartoons and video games. I'd love to have zero responsibility. I'd love to start over and do it the right way this time. Yeah, Whatever.

Haiku & A Story

A Child Cherished
Another Child Destroys
The Butterfly's Death

As much as I cherish nature now, as a child I had a different viewpoint. I was that kid who spit on ant hills and squashed bugs, never caring what so ever about it. It wasn't until my dad asked why I was stomping on ants that I finally understood. My dad explained to me to me that bugs weren't allowed in the house, but outside was their home and while they are just bugs, we shouldn't go around killing them just because. I've followed that creed since that day for the most part, except for earwigs. Those bastards die on sight.

Before my dad gave me this advice, however, I had already had a run-in with someone with an alternate viewpoint. There was this kid Danny down the block. Kind of a dorky kid, but his parents spoiled him and he had all the cool toys. He had a bunch of Atari games. So one day I'm hanging out at his house and he shows me something. Looked like a big bug caught in a spider web. He said his dad told me it was a caterpillar that made a cocoon and that after a while he would hatch into a butterfly. He was very happy about this. I imagine it had more to do with a bonding between him and his father than anything else, but he couldn't wait to see the butterfly emerge from the cocoon. So he goes in the house to get a toy or glass of water or something and I grab a stick and smash the cocoon. I just give it one big hit. It poured out a green pussy goo. The thing inside twitched a bit then stopped moving. When Danny came out of the house and saw the smashed caterpillar, he was devastated and started to cry. He yelled at me and ran into his house. Danny wouldn't talk to me for a few days after that.

I don't know why I smashed Danny's caterpillar. I don't remember doing it out of spite or meanness, more of something to do while I waited for Danny to come out of his house. I later apologized as I didn't like that I hurt Danny, but at that point could care less about a bug. I was probably 6 or 7 years old, so our moral compass was still developing. Between this incident and the talk my Dad gave me, I started to realize that killing stuff was wrong. It's pretty common sense actually, but when you are just a kid, you don't understand concepts like death and have to learn what they mean. It's just that I remember when I learned it. Most don't.

Science & Snails. Philosophy & Humanity.

Science always intrigued me as a child. It is that unknown and mysterious nature that boggles the mind and gets you dreaming. My earliest job aspirations were of being an astronaut. And why wouldn't they be? We are shown stars and space and they say that one day, our generation will be living on the moon or other planets. I wrote crappy science fiction stories in my English classes and looked through telescopes in science. It was all very fascinating.

As I reached high school, I began to appreciate science in nature, things like how cells processed energy, photosynthesis, mitochondria, and endoplasmic reticulum. Don't worry if you don't know what these things are, just know that they are very small and very cool. But where I began to truly appreciate our world, is in life itself. The animals, the insects, babies; all pique my interests.

My current case study is the rock garden behind the office building where I work. There are three suites in the building, all have a back door, and except for ours, none are used. Ours is only used sporadically to cut through to the party store in the lot next door. There is a 8 Ft. long rock garden, usually overgrown with weeds, partially shaded by trees that runs the length of the building. It is here that we have, of all things, snails.

During most of the warm months, you see them occasionally, one here or there. Sometimes you see the cracked shell of one that was perhaps stepped on, or found by a random bird. For the most part though, this is their private little safehaven for the few snails that live here. When it rains though, watch out. The snail army comes out in bulk. They are literally everywhere, On the walls, in the rocks, on the trees, everywhere. I can't help but to step lightly and carefully to avoid crunching them and for a moment I admire them as I do all lesser creatures.

A snails life is simple. When times are good, they frolic and play everywhere, albeit slowly. When times are bad, they lock themselves away in their shell until times are good again. They never know what life's about, nor do they care. They don't worry about life or death. They don't worry at all. They follow the instinctual pattern of survival in it's most simplistic form and it works out pretty good for them. There is something to envy in that.

Conversely, being human is both a blessing and a curse. We have been endowed with the intelligence to understand our environment. We knowingly have a purpose. We can love and hate, respect and despise, advance and withdraw. However we are cursed to know about death and loss and all the inner pain that accompanies it. Our survival is a matter of constant worry.

You sometimes see people who live the snail's life, one of fun. When life throws it's worst at them, they just hide in their little shell until mother nature bails them out with good times again. Of course mother nature in this case isn't a nice rain, its a family bailout or government program. Another issue all together. But even if you do run and hide from life's problems, the very fact that you are human gives you the ability to be disturbed by the events around you. You worry. You cry. A snail just goes to sleep.

Where I'm going with this is simply that we need to observe ourselves more as well as the world around us. You can envy the simple life of the snail but shouldn't respect it. It's a life of simplicity and ignorance. We should be proud that we have the knowledge and wisdom to wish we didn't have the knowledge and wisdom, because unlike the snail, we see the good and bad in life and can't hide away in our little shells.

Caste Clarified

I was recently called out in humor when an acquaintance of mine said that I use words like ghetto a lot to explain events in my life. I told him, "I try to relay the feeling of being a lower middle class person living in an upper lower class city with the goals of an upper middle class lifestyle and a dream of being an upper class elitist." Of course, this needs some explanation.

I live in Pontiac, Michigan, a suburb of the Greater Metro Detroit Area. It's about 30 miles north of Detroit. In fact, before living in Pontiac, I spend the first 10 years of my life in Detroit, which to most people, sounds like the beginnings of a thug turned superstar, rags to riches movie, or a horror movie, same difference. South East Michigan was once the epicenter of the automotive industry, it still has a great presence, but no where the impact it once did. So what this means is that where once stood great automobile manufacturing plants, now stand large empty buildings awaiting improvement, real estate reclassification, or demolition. This, of course impacts the economic well being of Michigan and whatnot, but that's a whole different story. Just know that where greatness once stood, now is ruin.

What this means to me, and many other gen X'ers in Michigan, is a sort of failed promise. We grew up in a school system that taught us that an education was the answer to all of our dreams, but a society that showed us that working at the plant was a desirable lifestyle, and both failed. If you chose to follow the path of education, you were fighting an uphill battle in the Detroit school system which is an urban disaster of corruption and wasted money. Detroit is losing thousands of citizens every year, which means less money, less taxes, and poorer school districts. Try telling a child who can barely speak legibly that he can be president some day. On the flip side to this is the dream of vocational work, those who chose to go into the automobile industry or related trades. This ended up also being a false promise as the job market is falling apart with jobs being shipped around the country and to lower cost manufacturing plants in other countries. Not that this is a bad thing, but an unfortunate side effect of big companies making big money. This however is no condolence to the person who chose this work path, which coincidently is basically an unskilled worker.

So where does this leave me? I'm an in betweener. I have enough education to keep me out of trouble, with just a few marketable skills. I fell into a few bad decisions as a teen and marked myself enough so that I can never obtain the American dream through traditional means, but we dream anyways.

Thus, "I try to relay the feeling of being a lower middle class person living in an upper lower class city with the goals of an upper middle class lifestyle and a dream of being an upper class elitist." Does that make sense?