When Weird Kids Become Weird Adults

I knew I was going to grow up some day. I counted on it. Like most of us, I had placed a premium on the value of the "future" me and relegated the "present" me as inchoate--a work in progress that would eventually be fully formed. If I could just hang on long enough, then I would come into my own. But the truth is harsh. "Past" me became "Present" me, and they seemed unsatisfying when "Future" me remained the same awkward kid of my childhood.

Weird. Strange. Odd. Reserved. Standoffish. Aloof. Pensive. Shy. Introvert.

I have had every one of those words ascribed to me. Although their connotations may swing between positive or negative, their underlying message is the same. I am an odd duck. I would say of myself that I am eccentric, but a friend informed me that I would have to be wealthy to claim to both the adjective and the noun. Despite our silent logomachy, I feel that I am closer to the truth using eccentric. Merriam Webster gives the etymology of eccentric as Greek ekkentros, from ex out of + kentron center. Indeed, eccentric precisely defines how I feel. I am always out of the center. Cockeyed and wonky. Sometimes I am ok with it. Sometimes I am not. Often, others are more disturbed by it than I could ever be.

As a child, I was quiet. Painfully so. I was the youngest of three kids, and I had a far stronger preference for books and daydreaming than I ever did for human interaction. I crept corners like a mouse. Skirting around edges. Not skulking as if I had something sketchy to do, but avoiding any small conversations that inevitably unnerved me.

How does one make small talk? I marvel at my social butterfly friends. How wonderful to flit in and out of offices and join circles of friends in idle conversation. I mean that with total respect and not an ounce of sarcasm or cynicism. I have read multiple self-help books on how to better coexist, and my go-to remains asking questions about the other person or people.

In total frankness, I do not know what to say or how to say it. Recently, my new boss (Update--now my FORMER boss) asked me how I was doing since joining the school. I verbally vomited some such comment about how everything was fine except for my fourth period. Then, I fled. If he had something further to say, then I will never know. I will return to work weirdness in a bit.

Needless to say, small talk is one of my many Achilles' heels. I am sure I would have far more and, if so, I would use all of those feet to travel far, far away.

Of course, since small talk is required in every social situation, failing to master it makes me continue to seem odd or shy.

Socially Awkward People on Social Media
This is where someone socially awkward can find some solace. While I am too old to know how social media affects young people, in adulthood, I can craft an online presence edited to more closely represent my love and my concern for others. I can remark from behind the keyboard. I can revise my thought and read it before posting it. People who would never hear those words from me in person will find me waxing poetic on their posts. Those are not words I would say in a hallway nor dare add to a conversation of two or more gathered together.

Still, I avoid too much social media interaction. It is taxing. I felt I had tamped down all the pings and notifications that set my nerves on edge until Windows 10 added a "like" feature to email. I have made numerous attempts to stifle this sound that runs up my spine and causes me undue panic. Unfortunately, I would have to turn off the notifications of actual email sounds that are important.

About Sounds
Sounds frighten me. Irritate me. Leave me anxiety ridden to the nth degree. Pens tapping or clicking set my teeth on edge. When I leave work, I have to decompress in complete silence. No noise except the white noise of the fan going. I do not listen to music to drown out other noises because the music itself rattles me if it is too loud or too wordy.

Phones ringing. People talking at a bar. Multiple people talking during a presentation. Noise. Noise. Noise. It takes me off whatever task that needs my complete focus.

Focus, What Focus?
You had my attention there for the first few minutes. I swear. I was listening as hard as I could. But then you went on for more than a few minutes and you didn't provide me a paper copy to focus on and write notes. That's the only way I get those little suckers trapped and on paper.

I have been called out on it since I can remember. But once you have passed Number 1 of your things to remind me about, I have completely forgotten or zoned out while you were talking. Did I remember to write that email? Wait--was that appointment today? Now, I am panicked and a whole new tempest is raging in my mind.

I understand that meetings and conversations have a purpose. I understand that a meeting is to connect and to give information to the parties included. I even try to write notes to keep myself straight. The best meeting people are the ones who write an agenda and give each attendee a copy. As to conversations, I try very hard to what people are saying. But then, perhaps, they're telling stories about their dogs or whatever. Meanwhile, I wander in thought to my most beloved dog. Suddenly, I am misty-eyed about my own beloved dog and have failed to hear anything else.

Don't Touch Me
I did not learn to hug without flinching until I was well into my thirties. My best friend's husband is a hugger. I mean, full on, bear hug kind of guy. My family already knows that physical contact is uncomfortable for me. My own children know that I have to ease into hugs or handholding or any of that stuff. Don't get me wrong--I have hugged them and kissed their cheeks, but I am not a warm, fuzzy mom.

My friend's husband was unaware. To his credit, he was polite about my standoffish behavior. But I started to really think about it. I wondered why it bothered me so much. It wasn't that my parents hadn't tried to hug me and give me love. No, instead, it was an utter fear of contact and awkwardness about how long to hug...did one do a full hug or a half hug or a pat on the back hug. They all were to stressful to consider.

After years of wondering about the correct hug protocol, I learned from him that I could just go in for the hug. So when I see him, I tell him to give me a big hug. I assume that I am not tense about it because I have initiated the hug, and I know that he, as a bear hug kind of guy, will know I am all on board.

(Don't get me wrong. I don't run around all willy nilly giving hugs. That is super weird and I am only mostly weird.)

But I digress. Long story short--any initiation of physical contact from me has been learned, is purposeful, and always predicated on an idea that it is welcome. Certainly, not the makings for great relationships.

I Couldn't Even Commit to My Husband's Last Name
If idle chat is difficult for me, then relationships are beyond terrifying.

Over twenty plus years ago, I would have told you that I did not take my husband's name because I was a feminist. Now, I know that is not the reason. It is the literal eccentric...truly, I am out of the circle. I always find a way to stand on the periphery. I am not doing the hokey pokey. I am not going to remotely join that circle.

Commitment is a big issue for me.

I don't commit to plans. I don't show up to parties. I don't commit to anything that I know will bring extreme discomfort. Jobs are a nightmare. Relationships are a mine field.

So What Is the Takeaway

No matter the word choice or connotation--weird kids become weird adults. The problem for the world is there are a lot of us. Totally valid humans with great gifts who don't fit into the mainstream.

What I know is that I keep going to counseling. I continue being the pharmaceutical companies' guinea pig. But it is all in an attempt to coexist. Truly, it is only an attempt to coexist.

Our country is getting better about dealing with the outliers. The level of understanding now is far better than when I was a child. Behavioral therapy teaches us that we can make changes to assimilate with more ease. Unfortunately, much more has to be done. It is not enough to expect "weird" people to fit in. Society has to do better at addressing those of us who don't fit in. The behavior of the majority must change to take those with eccentricities under their wing.

The talk has to be real. As an educator, I am always told that my first concern is always the student's needs. However, I am still a valid human. When I am acting standoffish or strange, why not have a conversation about it? Like, "Hey, Jen, you seem to be avoiding everyone?" Or "What's going on? I noticed that you're not playing well with others."

These conversations have to happen. We don't write off weird kids because they're acting strange. We write up plans to help them succeed. We meet with them. We support them. We love them through their difficulties.

But we don't do that with adults. We don't form teams to help struggling adults at jobs. We don't determine real goals and objectives for how their strengths and gifts can best be used in our world. As an adult, the expectation is that assimilation is a solo endeavor.

Imagine a world where a weird adult can openly say, "Hey, I am wonky. Here are the things I am great at doing. Here are the things that will traumatize me." Imagine a workplace where we create teams to support the people in an organization. Imagine a company that creates goals and objectives to bring out the best in those we know are capable of adding to the value to whatever endeavor.

The naysayers will argue that employers are not mental health professionals.

I agree. Employers have no obligation to help employees who struggle at work. But as humans, we have a responsibility to one another. When we see others suffering, we are tasked with more than offering a paycheck.

As I said, I am an educator. A pained, troubled, educator. I just quit another job. One of many. I am embarrassed and mortified. I have hurt a friend who went to bat for me. I have had many friends go to bat for me. I have failed them as well. I have acted strange or struck out at people over an attempt to defend myself. I correct and overcorrect my behavior.

I keep trying. I try again. I fail again. Some years have been amazing. I have gone multiple years in teaching with success, and I have loved the consistency of those times. I have had employers who loved me, and they went to great lengths to help me. I have had employers who hated me and were glad to be rid of me.

Whatever the case, I will pick myself up. I will dust myself off. I will try again. I will work again. But I will say this. The number of weird kids who turn into weird adults is growing. That's not just my opinion. That is based in fact. If we are obligated to help students navigate through school, then we are morally obligated to help those same people when they are adults.

Finally, I am not blaming anyone for my behavior. I own it. But I do want to work. I want to work and have the same warmth and kindness afforded to me that I have for my students. I want to be loved and accepted in spite of my weirdness.

On Kaepernick, For Stella

Ima
tellin it true
They my words, my own
Red, white, and blue.
It’s enuff
ya’ll done enuff
said enuff
so i’m here tryna
clear it up

Trump out here uppin
the ante
tweetin bout the shame
of Kaepernick
rilin the country
with his hate rhetoric

No one reading
articles no more
just jagged headlines
with truth told slant
skip straight to the
comments
to trip each other
up with
some acid rant

Trollin each other
foldin each other
Controllin each
other

You doan like the
news comin on at 8
thas aight
got 200 more
to subscribe to
your hate

Flippin an trippin
not mad enuff
yet
just wait
for Zuckerburg
writin his new
algorithm
gonna make
sure your rage
double dippin

dippin dots
rotten snots
all the left crawlin
on the sidelines
big tech
rings their bell
pings their bell
fillin our newsfeed
gotta blast the Republican rot

an doan think I forgot
the right wing
Trumpian fools
gettin
jacked up and whacked up
suckin the teat
of Fox News

you fools better look
Ayn Rand’s Anthem
N stop poppin
bout how Colin’s
kneelin aint patriotism
that’s collectivism

You callin
him un-American
cuz he won’t stand
and you won’t bend

Hey, Stella
just an FYI
G-mom gonna give
you a worldview
we live in An America
thas absolutely true
But the Americas
stretch up through
Canada
down south to Peru
all the way to
Chile
to Diego Ramirez
islands
till the last rockhopper
penquin makes a Cape Horn dive

Someday you gonna
have somebody ask
you where you stand
want you pickin
teams and
pickin a side
gotta join a club
and show your
‘Merican pride
But bein a citizen
here in the States
Got nothin to do
with bein n fear
of different
ideas
Naw, Sweet Girl

Ima tell you my truth
N all of it’s true
just love everyone
thas all you
gotta do
you don’t play on
a team
or have uterine
or racial
or gender
or religious
privilege

you a human
a steward
of this blue
planet
be it
people
or
animals
or
the ocean
or
land

you’re responsible
to do what’s right
and take a stand
not judge others
not drown their
demands

you doan stand
n their shoes
you doan know
their pain
you can’t rage
at their hurt
it’ll drive you
insane

Some day
someone’ll do
something weird
and crazy
and’ll make the
news
You might not
remember a player
named Kaepernick
or how people
howled
when he
stood for something
on bended knee

but I’m pretty
sure you’ll
remember me

here’s my words:
love everyone
hate what’s wrong
and for God’s Blessed Sake,
doan get worked up
bout what folks
are doin
during a song

@TimSweeneyEpic, @FortniteGame Has Invaded My Students' Minds, and I Demand You Give Them Back

For parents who don't play Fortnite, you are appeasing your kids by letting them play. I get it. You are the cool parent. You care about their school, their friends, their activities, and their well-being. I want to be that parent too.

For teachers who don't play Fortnite, you want your students to learn and know that they also play a game. You, too, try to be the cool teacher. You learn about the game, and you use the vernacular in class to build rapport with gamers (often about half your classes). I get that too. I know the lingo. I can do the dance.

For you, @TimSweeneyEpic, you have stolen an entire generation of students' minds, and I want them back.

We can make some kind of deal. I don't know--you can have them from 5-7 on school nights, and a maximum of 6 hours on the weekends. We can come to some kind of agreement on the specifics.

What I can't do, as an educator, is let you off the hook. Obviously, you are not alone. Tech companies thrive on keeping users online.

Tristan Harris writes an incredible article about it--"How Technology Hijacking Your Mind from a Magician and Google Design Ethicist" https://medium.com/thrive-global/how-technology-hijacks-peoples-minds-from-a-magician-and-google-s-design-ethicist-56d62ef5edf3 He estimates it is about a 12 minute read, but it can be scanned for highlights.

However, @TimSweeneyEpic, I suspect you are well aware of the way technology is used to keep users sucked into your game. But you don't even care about playing the games you create.

According to Stephen Totilo a Kotaku.com writer, "Even though much of his life would involve the creation of video games, Sweeney never became an avid gamer. Sure, he messed around with games, but, to this day, he thinks he has only finished two of them: Doom and Portal. He skipped Zelda and never touched a Final Fantasy. He tried Sonic the Hedgehog and Super Mario Bros., just for a few hours "I would play games long enough to discover what games were doing and how they were doing it. And then I'd spend the rest of my time building." ("The Quiet Tinkerer Who Makes Games Beautiful Finally Gets His Due" 2011).

I am appealing to you as your elder (June '70).

I, too, had an Atari. My brother and I cut lawns, so we could buy one. He, too, took apart lawnmowers and still takes apart all sorts of machines and puts them back together. He's older now and has his own tools, so he's no longer stealing my mom's steak knives to get stuff open. I didn't fix things nor build tech graphics to make computer games look better than what Atari had to offer. I write stuff and teach kids who hate to read. I am not wealthy and I have never owned a super fancy company.

But we are both responsible for educating this generation.

You and I had the benefit and the curse of moving from a small, finite source of information found in libraries with card catalogs and whatever the local library had to offer to an online world of infinite resources, information aggregators, and developing a way to winnow down the overwhelming search results.

We had the time to develop organically. We could read for hours without interruption. We could fiddle around outside or in the garage or at our friend's even cooler workshop. We could write letters to people starting with snail mail, an actual stamp, and a prayer that we would receive a response and transitioned to emails with automatic responses.

We had time.

We knew our time was valuable, and we were fairly selfish with where we spent our time. We did this because we were not dragged into a virtual casino that stole our time, invaded the reptilian part of our brains, and (as Tristan Harris opines) "hijacked" our minds.

I am not a Luddite. I love new technology. I love games. I love that I can get off work at Christmas break and play whatever game entertains me on any of my multiple game platforms for hours. I can play until the sun comes up.

But the crucial difference is education. Whether through self-education or through purposeful education, you and I have the ability to distinguish other ways to spend our time. Where to spend our time. Where to allot our resources. We know if we are being manipulated or robbed of our time. You know because you are able to hyperfocus on projects that appeal to your own "tinkering". I know because I am able to spend 2 hours writing a blog post that, perhaps, 37 people will read (based on the Blogger analytics' results of my last post). Like you, I am working and creating my own reality. Unlike you, I am not doing it for money. I just like to write.

I am going to do my part. I am going to try to stay current and create rapport with my gaming students. I promise that I will continue to educate myself and keep a "Growth Mindset" while building lessons for a new generation of students. I will not judge them for getting wrapped up in a game for hours nor scold them for being unable to keep from looking at their phones every few seconds. Heck, I don't want someone to judge who I am for staying holed up writing a blog essay.

But I need you to do your part.

You are going to have to acknowledge that our young people are too inexperienced to determine where they should spend their time. You and I weren't allowed to go to Vegas and gamble hours on end at 13. Our parents didn't plunk us down on a virtual street corner to fend for ourselves. Having Google out Fortnite's point of weakness for Android users is not your biggest problem.


Our problem, @TimSweeneyEpic, is that we had the ability to grow up and explore, and these kids have not. Our parents could kick us outside for hours and make us drink water from the hose without anyone calling the police on them for negligence. Our young people are not living in that same reality. Yes, they are exploring on their own. But we were able to start on the ground floor of actual books, and articles, and questionable gaming systems.

Now, I demand that you give them back their time. I get them from 7-3, Monday through Friday. We can negotiate the other terms.

I do not care what platform you use. I would love to see it incorporated as free educational games for teachers to use in class. (Not much money there, but how much do you need?) I can try to compete with you, but I feel you owe it to our young people to give back some of the time you have stolen.

The other Tech Giants love to give back through philanthropy. They throw money at problems.

Be better than them. Be bigger than them. Give back your users' time.

Parents and Educators--Here are resources to consider--
Check out Tristan Harris's Center for Human Technology--http://humanetech.com/ and his article "How Technology is Hijacking Your Mind--From a Magician and Google Ethicist"
Mack Ashworth's review--https://www.gamerevolution.com/guides/391403-fortnite-parent-review-is-fortnite-safe-for-children
Stephen Totilo's article on Tim Sweeney--https://kotaku.com/5865951/the-quiet-tinkerer-who-makes-games-beautiful-finally-gets-his-due

Filip Miucin--Write the apology you must

Filip, I don't know you. Before I read about your review scandal, I can't say that I have ever even seen your writing prior to this situation. I was hoping so much that you had unintentionally plagiarized, and it would all be rainbows and unicorns for you.

But it's not.

I started digging a bit, and I saw your major. Mass communications. Again, I had hoped you were a neophyte writer, and that IGN had given you a chance to write about what you love.

You weren't a neophyte. You weren't ignorant to what unintentional plagiarism is. (I guess if maybe you lied about your college degree, then perhaps I could make a case for that.)

What a conundrum. Although I have met and read many who have unintentionally plagiarized others' work, I have also read intentionally plagiarized work for the past twenty years.

People plagiarize for a myriad of reasons. However, the one I see most often is the writer in question not starting with the end in mind. For example, I know that students will often underestimate the amount of work that must go into to completing a project by the due date. With that in mind, you have to teach yourself how to plan backwards. One has to have a good grasp of how much each step will take, and the process is quite challenging in the best of circumstances.

Here's my English teacher comparison from the past week: school started last week in Florida--I made one class set of the syllabus, and I placed the file online. It's truly a stupid assignment. I mean super ridiculous. Students have to print out the parent signature page. Then, they have to have it signed. Next, they have to scan it. Finally, they have to upload it.

Smart kids, they said, "Hey, this is a dumb assignment. Why do we have to do it?"

(I encourage them to ask me why I assigned something with whatever ridiculous parameters I give.)

Most of the time, I am trying to help them practice a skill that I know they will use later in high school, or college, or work. For real, we all end up scanning some document for something.

My point to them was this: "I would rather have you practice this with something that doesn't matter much, than to have to try to scan that file and upload it at 3AM because you got behind." People always get behind. They always put too much on their plates. They always overestimate how much they can deliver.

They do. Call it optimism, but that is the main caveat to major projects.

What does any of this mean to you, Filip? This is my theory. I am going to bet that you have intentionally plagiarized for a long while. I don't know your age, but I have taught an entire generation or two for whom plagiarism was not the exception, but the rule. I see it all the time in high school. Cut and paste. Google it. Find an essay on line. Each year, it becomes more and more difficult to catch it or to stop it.

But, Filip, somewhere along the line, you learned this behavior. You didn't get caught then. Maybe, you have an award-winning personality. Or people listen to you because you speak with such authority that they believe in you. This is true anytime you write or speak using emphatic order. Bark out orders. Use the implied subject "you," and people will follow where you lead.

I play games because I want to be able to escape. I am sure people have read or watched your work for the same reason. You get excited. They get excited. It's heady...isn't it?

The pressure, however, is real. I am assuming you would have to play through the entire game. No matter how good you are--that's hours. Then you are going to have to produce content. Anyone who writes or produces creative material knows that this can take an immense amount of synthesis before you have even committed to writing or recording a single word. I have looked at the screen for hours. I have cleaned the bathroom. Eaten some yogurt. Checked the mail. You get the point.

Getting started can be an act of, and often is, sheer determination.

Which does not remotely account for editing, style, polish.

A former neighbor of mine is a fairly successful vlogger. The hours and energy put into a 10, 15, 20 minute video is staggering. Creating multiple videos weekly and monthly is beyond my understanding.

I read an article the other day about how many of the online, internet sensations are burning out. The constant demand for more likes. More material. More clicks. More clicks. More clicks.

I see it daily in my classes. I have young people puking with anxiety over projects or tests or deadlines. The demands of their smartphones, and snap streaks or email or constant texts. Why did you leave me unread? Why did you read me and not respond?

I am fairly certain that we could diagnose most of the country with legit ADHD at this point. I can speak to this with some authority. But i digress.

Anyway, you keep up the juggling and something has to give. In this case, it was integrity.

That's a tough one. Veracity in your field is expected.

My point is--this whole dumb self-assignment--is you must apologize.

Here's a start--
You have to be honest. To your very core honest. You have to cop to the truth. No matter if you get sued. No matter if it breaks your heart. No matter if it breaks your family's trust for a bit. You have to do it immediately.

This is not The Crucible. I am not hoping for your destruction. But I also don't want you to kill yourself or give greater weight to this than it is. That would be a tragedy.

In the end, I do know one thing about you...you love games. I do too. I don't write about them because I have not chosen that as a profession. I get to play during winter and summer break. Sometimes, I have seen the sunrise after playing a video game all night long. (Diablo 3--it was like a casino in my house without a clock to slow my roll.) You get the point.

What I want you to remember when all is said and done--they're just effin games. No one died. Your pride may be bruised. Some online people may want to grab their virtual pitchforks. But for real--they're games.

The remarkable truth about this country is that you can have a do-over. You can screw up. You can fail. You can screw up in new ways. My truest, most sincere hope is that you will screw up better next time

"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail better" Samuel Bennett (https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/samuel_beckett_121335)

See what I did there? Fail better. Take your lumps. Tell the truth. And let the haters hate. I'm sure you will never read this. I have 1 follower on my blog. I have 9 followers on Twitter. I lost 1--I had 10 before. I'm not looking to be famous or right. I am not looking to kick you while you are down. But I spend 6 periods a day talking young people off the ledge. I don't get clicks or likes. I get to tell them to breathe, and I get to ask them how I can help them. I have the honor of saying--"What do you need me to do?"

So, I am doing what I needed to do. I pontificated about what now appears to be your purposeful plagiarism. I am going to forgive you. I don't like what you did. I don't like that you took the easy way out because you overestimated your ability to deliver. I don't like that your online apology was a non-apology. But I understand what happened.

As an English teacher for over twenty years who will be dragging when I have to get up at 5AM to be ready for students at 7AM, I had to tell you that you are forgiven. You can move on.

Forgiveness: The consistency of inconsistency

Be Merciful.

Where once we had few places in which to castigate others, social media has been a boon to cruelty and to hyperbole in the extreme. Where once we had a red-faced bully at the schoolyard gate, now we have a legion of faceless attackers to excoriate any perceived miscreant over the most minimal of offenses.

I continually go back to my Christian upbringing in my judgment of others’ actions. More specifically, I keep it simple and wonder WWJD. I mean, what would Jesus say about the piling on of strangers to light the stake that will bind the next sinner?

I feel like J-Dog would totally get it. He knows we are quick to judge and slow to forgive. But truly, why?

I have watched a daily feast of a banal post which caused a full-on attack with the writer driven to aggression that in no way is balanced with his/her egregious sin.

I have read provocative remarks evoke agreement from those who seek to stop the progress of change. Agreement from a tenuously held hope that with anger and hate they would seek to build walls literally and figuratively to avert any attempts at helping anyone remotely different.

And when others make mistakes, why must we yield to puritanical shunning or witch trial dunking to test whether they can rise or not? If we dunk them long enough, then what is our goal post? Must they commit seppuku to satisfy our bloodlust? How far must we tear them down in order to feel we have reached the saturation point?

I thought I would pull out some Alexander Pope to elucidate my point. Pope is a marvelous writer because his humor is looking at the saturation point of the human ability to screw up and the crowd’s corollary in judgmental overreach.


X.
Cease then, nor order imperfection name:
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: This kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee.
Submit.—In this, or any other sphere,
Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear:
Safe in the hand of one disposing pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony, not understood;
All partial evil, universal good:
And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.

(Alexander Pope, X, Essay on Man—poetryfoundation.org))

Modern translation—
We are screw ups.
God knows we are screw ups.
We will continue to be screw ups.
We will make all new screw ups tomorrow.
We are who we are supposed to be at the moment.



At ev'ry Word a Reputation dies.
 Snuff, or the Fan, supply each Pause of Chat,
 With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that. Mean while declining from the Noon of Day,
 The Sun obliquely shoots his burning Ray;
 The hungry Judges soon the Sentence sign,
 And Wretches hang that Jury-men may Dine;
(Rape of Lock, 4-Pope,poetry.eserver.org/rape-of-the-lock)

Social media exploits our basest nature—the need to feast on others’ pain to elevate ourselves. Pope’s “Rape of Lock” shows how herd mentality exacerbates the balance with over-judgment and disproportionate disdain. Imagine the horror of a woman having a lock of hair taken. A battle to be waged. A war to be fought. A reputation to be shredded:

Methinks already I your Tears survey,
Already hear the horrid things they say,
Already see you a degraded Toast,
And all your Honour in a Whisper lost!
How shall I, then, your helpless Fame defend?
'Twill then be Infamy to seem your Friend!
(Rape of Lock, 5-Pope,poetry.eserver.org/rape-of-the-lock)

We are ridiculous. Boastful. Meanspirited. Unyielding. Unfazed at the cost of such unmitigated judgment.
People kill themselves over this hatefulness.

We are responsible. We do not get to cast judgment. Moreover, we should not want the burden of judging others. We do not get “to weigh, to measure, and to find wanting’ those around us.

We have an obligation to lighten the load of those around us.

I will end with this. My husband completely self-destructed last year due to drinking himself almost to death. Make no mistake, he destroyed our family. He crashed four vehicles, got three DUIs in three different counties in two different states, was fired from two jobs, and left his entire family in the Wilds of Wisconsin forty-five minutes away from the closest rental car. The policeman who arrested him on the second official DUI drove me into the main city, so I could rent a vehicle. I did not have one drivable car, and I had to buy a cheap $2000 truck to get around. Injury after injury.

I have had innumerable family and friends with quite specific ideas on how I should handle my husband.

I have not divorced him. I am still cleaning up messes that seemed like Everest last year. I am still helping my daughters to claw their way out of the pit we all fell into during his unraveling.

Others may injure us to our very souls. Real, not imagined, trauma that will take much to overcome.

So I must ask, I must wonder: What price are we willing to make someone pay for our perceived injuries? I seem to recall some seventy times seven or something along those lines from Jesus. You know, a symbolic number, so we funny humans could grasp the concept that forgiveness must be the one consistent of the inconsistent.


Is IGN responsible for their writer’s plagiarism?

No. Simply no. After teaching English for over twenty years, I am astounded that writers worldwide are not calling each other out on a daily basis. IGN’s experience with a writer plagiarizing is no different than the common misconceptions that the general public has regarding plagiarism.

I could survey thousands of high school or college students, and they would be unable to identify that article as plagiarism.

In 2001 I was teaching a 9th grade class, and my students were writing an MLA paper. I read a paper that seemed amazingly high level for the student in question.

Back in the day, turnitin.com was an essay site where students could buy papers. I bought a six month membership for around $20, so I could look at all the papers they had to offer. Why did I buy the membership? Because when I was searching for the paper online, I found the exact same first paragraph of my student’s paper on their site. Once I purchased it, I realized the paper was word for word from turnitin.com

(Not calling out turnitin.com—their newer business model makes more sense and more money, considering that most high schools and universities use it to spot plagiarism.)

But I digress.

I had to inform the principal that an honors’ student had plagiarized. He, of course, asked me what I planned to do. I am a very compassionate teacher, and I ultimately want for students to learn how to write their own original work. He liked my approach, and I had to go call the student’s parents.

When I called home the father listened to my findings, and he literally told me that he had instructed his child to re-write the paper in the student’s own words. Take note of that because that is an incredibly important distinction.

This honorable man, with an incredibly respectable position in the community, believed that re-writing the paper was not plagiarism.

He is not alone.

I have spent hours teaching students from high school to college what plagiarism is and isn’t.

I see major news companies’ writers plagiarizing other articles on a daily basis. It is always plagiarism if you do not give credit where credit is due. But here we are in a world that moves remarkably fast, and there is simply no way to vet that work.

I mean, I guess you could. But it would mean that you would have to have an anal retentive English teacher on staff. Most of us can sniff out that stuff in a hot minute.

But give the devil his due—IGN is not responsible for this writer’s plagiarism. Furthermore, based on the prevailing thought process of young writers today, I would bet that the writer in question is probably unaware that re-writing an article in your own words without proper citation is always plagiarism.

Hey, IGN, chill. All the people hating on them, chill. IGN simply needs to do what the rest of the publishers should do—make sure all your writers have a clear understanding of what plagiarism is.

Don’t assume that everyone has the same educational background. Don’t assume that all teachers are teaching those lessons. I have had colleagues who would assign the required research paper, and they never worked with students again on the subject. The due date would come and said teachers would be shocked that students plagiarized.

My favorite English professor, Paul Puccio, requires students to write all of their drafts in class because plagiarism became so rampant over the past two decades. Legit, old school, writing it by hand before it ever gets typed.

The older I get, the more I assume people do not understand the definition of plagiarism. As much as the internet wants to attribute some nefarious gamer plagiarizing others’ work, I would cut the writer some slack.

Honestly, @IGN should do what I did with that student who plagiarized.

I gave the worst possible punishment. Said student had to work with me at the butt crack of dawn for several mornings until the MLA paper was completed with correctly cited sources and proper paraphrasing/quoting. The lesson was learned. The student went off to college with excellent writing skills and a full understanding of how to avoid plagiarism.

I know all the internet folks with their holier than thou judgments want to roast this writer. But not me.

I say, have the writer play the game. Have the writer write a new original review. Make sure the writer knows proper citation and/or how to create unique material. Have said writer release the review and an apology together.

People are not to be thrown away. We are in an amazing country where we can reinvent ourselves. We can have do-overs. I guarantee you that this writer is mortified. Whether it was laziness or ignorance doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we teach the lesson, and make sure that we ask only of others to make all new mistakes tomorrow.

This writer is not the first, nor the last to have plagiarized text. The writing community will have better success by demonstrating complete transparency. Do interviews. Find out the writer’s thought process.

Most of all, chill. Writing is a process. If I excoriated all the students I have had that plagiarized, then I would have handicapped a whole slew of folks who became wildly successful adults.

And don’t think that I am defending the writer because I am culpable of the same thing. While I am positive that I never intentionally plagiarized, I am pretty sure that those reports I did in elementary school based on my fancy set of World Book Encyclopedias would be classified as unintentional plagiarism.

To err is human; to forgive, divine. Alexander Pope
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/alexander_pope_101451

What the Left Still Doesn’t Get About Trump’s Zaddy, Putin

I am going to try to bridge the gap of understanding between the left and the right regarding Trump and Putin. I understand that democrats are still reeling two years after Trump came into power. I specifically remember telling my Republican mother that there was no way that he would get into office. Had I been paying attention to the comment section of Yahoo or Twitter or anything beyond MSM, then I would have seen the writing on the wall.

I often read the comments before the article now. Priceless gems waiting there. Salacious comments. Vitriolic beliefs. It’s the feeding pool of the disenfranchised. Those voters were riled up. They showed up. They were mad as hell and weren’t going to take it anymore. They showed all the liberals. But you know who these, behind the screens’ folks admire? Putin.

Think that’s insane? Or that they don’t love their country? Right.

Remember this little gem between Romney and Obama? “The 1980s are now calling to ask for their foreign policy back because the Cold War’s been over for 20 years.”
–President Obama, during the third presidential debate, Oct. 22, 2012
The problem remains that while we did not approve of the former Soviet Union, we were not the buddies to show up and help manage the chaos.
What did the United States do after Russia gained all this independence?

Nothing. We are not the “in for a penny in for a pound” country. We are the “help you win whatever skirmish, and then we are outski” country. It is a follow through issue. Of course our country knows not to leave a power vacuum when we “help”. Unfortunately, our ordinary taxpayers become fatigued with money pouring into wars or political upheavals off the backs of the working class.

Putin’s very success rests on the order brought from the chaos that the West had every opportunity to avert. The United States has an entire population who were not even alive when the world changed so abruptly and, ostensibly, for the better. The Russian children of the nineties and the United States’ children of the nineties have two different realities. While United States’ young people may have suffered through the Great Recession of the last decade, they in no way mirror their Russian counterparts.

The 1990s may have brought high unemployment in the United States, but our difficulties were not remotely akin to the devastation in unstable independent Russia. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2016/12/putin-generation-russia-soviet-union/

There is a reason that dictators and authoritarian governments exist.

Everyone wants a Zaddy

Let’s be honest. Putin stepped in and filled the spot. Much like Trump’s tweets, Putin created the optics of a man’s man. Pictures of him on horseback. Pictures of him hunting. Carefully, chosen visuals of a man restoring order with swagger.

Other people admire Putin. Much the same as people here who dress up like Darth Vader. You know he is bad news’ bears, but Zaddy Putin is living the dream. It’s been never in most of our young people’s lives or experiences that they were taught to fear the Russians. Meanwhile, those of us who grew up in the seventies and eighties are very familiar with their reputation. Heck, I remember my mom making me learn Bible verses to keep in my heart in case the Russians invaded us.

Our young people have no such recollection of the Russians. There is no fear there. They have grown up with a Hollywood version of Russia. For Heaven’s sake, Steven Seagal is a Russian citizen. Russia’s reputation for dictators, communism, or any of the negative connotations once applied to the region have been non-existent for over twenty years.

Putin is no different than Dark Vader. His swagger and take no prisoners’ approach is a Hollywood story.

Trump’s apparent bromance with Putin is reasonable with a Hollywood filter. Putin is the polished, silver-tongued antagonist. He and Trump thrive on a pretty version of control. Their stories have been parlayed into a film script where taking control is a good thing. Being boss is expected.

While Putin’s eyes belie his plans of world domination in a Pinky and the Brain throwback, Trump tweets hearken to a Wild West mentality. Tweets, merely by their pithy parameters, create a stream of Hollywood one-liners. Trump gets it. He sets the agenda daily, and the media follow like puppies.

Of course, Putin and Trump admire one another. They like to be in control. After Obama’s laissez faire terms, the disenfranchised were easy to convince that SOMEONE had the answers because they had been armchair quarterbacks to a President who wanted everyone to just get along.

But Putin is not the bad guy in a film. And Trump is not the moron the media has tried to paint him.

The problem we have here—“Is a failure to communicate”-we spent years of radio silence not teaching our young people about the world as it was. Not only have we left an entire generation ignorant of our own history, but we have also marginalized a group of hardworking men and women who support a man they perceive to be a strong leader. They like his tweets. They admire his strength and his machismo. After watching eight years of chill Zaddy Obama, they were ready for Dirty Harry Zaddy.

Marginalizing the people who voted for Trump, calling them deplorables, acting as if their thoughts and beliefs don’t matter, only serves to bolster Trump’s cry of fake news. While people may miss the crunchy-granola, hippie-dippie, “it’s all good,” President, the rush to categorize Trump supporters as morons serves to strengthen and justify their commitment to a hardline President. Think Harvard scholar versus New York real estate and reality TV star.

Obama is peaceful and you could invite him to any gathering and know he would not act the fool. Trump fires off his tweets and succeeds in insulting one or more people on a daily basis. Trump is your old off-the-chain uncle who says the most outlandish things at Thanksgiving dinner—has half the table furious and the other half laughing behind their napkins

The United States’ voters put both types of President in office. They did not, however, put Hillary into office. Obama won because he connected with a majority of the population. Trump won because he physically went to the “deplorables” and gave voice to their frustration. He outplayed the players. Hillary can claim she won the popular vote, but who cares? She did not win the game. The same voters who voted for Trump like Putin because he’s Zaddy. They are voters who tell it like it is. They expect their president to be the same way.

I freely state to anyone who will listen that I did not vote for Donald Trump. I don't like his inflammatory tweets. I believe he enjoys meeting with controversial leaders like Putin. Although the Russian leader is an enigma and Putin seems to have brought back hardline Russia, our President revels in kicking up the dirt. But I truly think that Trump knows the dangers of Putin. Unfortunately, Trump jangles our nerves with his need to be tied to the mast, so he can see and hear the sirens' song up close and personal.

Whatever the case, the left has to understand our country's fascination with Putin. He is intriguing. Our country should engage in dialogue with Russia. The liberal agenda can't have it both ways. Telling people for thirty years that Russia is no worry for us will take time to teach new voters about the insidious Russia of our past.

Still, is anyone surprised that Trump simply has to poke the bear?

Pearls of Wisdom: Generation Raise Myself

Pearls of Wisdom: Generation Raise Myself: People do not fit into Generation X or Y or Z categories. I liken it to thinking that an astrological sign will give you insight into a p...

Generation Raise Myself

People do not fit into Generation X or Y or Z categories. I liken it to thinking that an astrological sign will give you insight into a person’s psyche. We like to stereotype and categorize and put people in little boxes of political parties or philosophical ideologies. When all is said and done, we can’t make easy judgments. Therefore, I established my own generation. Easy answers do not exist in my own self-created generation—the “Generation Raise Myself.”

Growing up in the United States, I come from a long line of DIYers. A generation of individuals. I was taught not to be co-dependent. I was taught to not count on anyone to take care of me. I am by all means successful. I can pick myself up by my bootstraps. I can work and excel. I have friends, multiple degrees, good jobs, hobbies, and social events. I have calendars filled with multiple engagements and projects. I am popular.

On paper and even social media—I am amazing.

I am part of that large expanse of people born of first world privilege who are saving the world. Helping others reach their goals and potential. What I do not know how to do is connect at the deepest level with my family or my friends. I am connected, yet only at a shallow level. Thankfully, I have technology to constantly ping and remind me that on a series of social media platforms, I am connected to many people.

“Generation Raise Myself” means I have to pack every moment with something to do because at my very core I cannot put too much time or energy into relationships for fear of being let down. Sick and need soup? I can UberEats my loved ones. Down in the dumps? I can meet you for dinner and make you laugh.

I take jobs on the other side of the country to make more money or have greater career opportunities. Why? Because I do not count on my family to take care of me. A bigger paycheck or a bigger title supersedes bonding with my nearby family or old friends. Even if I stay near family, I’m very, very busy.

I work and I work and I work some more to prove to myself that I am valuable.

Above all else, I make sure that I am too busy to focus on true and satisfying relationships Mine is a world of scattered friends—not the deep connection of family. I wonder why I do not have strong personal relationships with a significant other. Why would I? I am so well educated and financially independent that I don’t need to dig too deep into a relationship. Swipe left when any irritation comes from a relationship. I am so busy that I fail to even grieve for a series of potential relationships that were never truly nurtured. At my deepest level though, I want for those relationships to succeed. I might not say it, but I feel the sting.
Like many in “Generation Raise Myself,” I have been kinder and more supportive of friends or even friendly acquaintances, than I have been to my family.

I have gotten it all wrong.

My spiritual self, my family ties, my old family friends, and my ability to simply “be” were all to prove my worth. I pursued education without being better educated in kindness. I pursued wealth without understanding the greater value of sharing time with my loved ones.

Now I give myself permission to make a little less. I grant myself permission to connect at a more genuine level. I am still going to try to save the world. I am still going to eat, drink, and be merry with those around me.

But now that I have succeeded at “Generation Raise Myself,” I am going to add to it.

Generation Raise Myself and Raise Others—A Generation of Valuing My Family and My Loved Ones.

Maybe, just maybe, by spending more time with them. Maybe, just by being fully and totally connected with them. By sacrificing as much for them as I do for others—maybe I can start there.

I do not have to worry about an intimate personal relationship right now.

I need to be there to nurture those relationships that I have let grow weak from want of attention.

If more of us spent as much time fostering deeper relationships with our families as we did on our own pursuits, then we would all be better humans. When we are truly sacrificing for those who have sacrificed for us, we are able to become servant leaders.

I know that we have been inculcated since birth that we are granted life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I know we pack our mental United States’ Constitution in our hearts and our souls. However, we must remember that someone else granted us life. Someone else fought for our liberties. Consequently, our pursuit of happiness will be empty and hollow if our pursuits fail to make room for those who already cleared the path before. Our pursuit of happiness must be a pursuit that is shared. Pursuit of happiness for myself is human. Pursuit of happiness that is shared with my loved ones? There is no earthly measurement for that pursuit. In fact, I am pretty sure that God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost completely, totally, and wholeheartedly approve this message.

But now I gotta go spend some time with my mom. I am pretty sure that she has a serious vacation spot in Heaven because she has been doing for her family and everyone else as long as I have known her. Although she didn't get a degree in it, I am certain that I will learn something today that they don't teach in a university.