7 Random Weird Things

I was tagged (sort of) by Erin for this, so here goes. (With the necessary disclaimer to MC that I merely copied the name of this thing, and haven't really compromised in the good fight.)

The necessary rules:
1. Link to the person’s blog who tagged you.
2. Post these rules on your blog.
3. List seven random and/or weird facts about yourself.
4. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post.
5. Let each person know that they have been tagged.

1. I have music on my MP3 player in seven different languages. I only speak one of them fluently, and probably wouldn't die if left only with the use of one of the other six.

2. I know every word of every song on one of the cds that some of that music comes from, despite not speaking that language, and regularly sing along.

3. I have been known to get extremely annoyed with and sarcastic to people who misuse the word "random." (I am usually rather indifferent to other misused words, although the song "Ironic" annoys me.)

4. I created a fictional character in high school that I entered into several pen-pal correspondences as with real people (I think). This character still corresponds with several people because she doesn't know how to tell them she isn't real without hurting their feelings.

5. I applied to one college, because they were one of the foremost colleges for funeral sciences and also had a decent fashion design school. I had planned to pursue both. When accepted, I enlisted in the Air Force instead.

6. I once set my arm and my porch on fire with a flaming shot, and succesfully put the fire out on the porch with out putting my arm out or recalling that it was on fire.

7. I have been known to sit and look at my arms and try to remember what they looked like without tattoos on them. (Not that I regret the tattoos, I just wish I could remember.)

In true keeping with rule number 4, I will go back to the main page and tag 7 random people the best way I can, by clicking on links of people who recently posted. Those people are:

Monica and Adam
48
The Painful Happenings
Birth Of The Cool
Rescued Me
The Convergence Of Science And Religion
Cookies And Cats

I will note that I am not necessarily promoting any of these blogs, as I am not at all familiar with them. (Look up the actual definition of random if you aren't getting the idea here.)

So there are seven weird things about my life, or something close to it.

A Note To Emily

Emily - Yesterday I yelled at you. You were trying to remove the plug-in air sanitizer from its socket. I know what you were trying to do, and why. It was in your way, in your attempt to squeeze into the corner to retrieve a toy. You are so bright, and I am amazed that it occurred to you to take this simple route to solve your problem. I have also noted your intelligence well enough to recognize what you were doing even as you reached for it. So I yelled.

Why did I have to yell? Because you are two years old and you have figured out that when I say no, you can ignore me. I can get loud, and sound vicious when I do. Adults have backed down from that tone in my voice, and since you have never heard it before, it is no surprise that you did too. This was my intention.

The result was also predictable, yet foreign thus far to me. Yes, you did stop, as I expected. You also began to cry. An understandable reaction to me scaring you. You should know that this had an equally strong impact on me. Seeing you crying and knowing that it was because I scared you, I who am supposed to be someone safe and reassuring, tore at my heart. I wanted to scoop you up and make it all right again. I tried, and was torn even more when you fled from me to your mother's arms.

This is the pain of a father. A pain that will repeat itself. Particularly when the tears of a confused and frightened toddler turn into the coherent phrase "I hate you." I would like nothing more than to never inspire that reaction from you. As your father, bound by heart and duty to protect you, I will say with all certainty that I will elicit that phrase from you more than once.

It is my job to be feared and hated at times by you, because like it or not, I will know better than you for a while yet. It is my job to use that to make sure you grow to your full potential. So you will not touch the stove again, you will not play with things that are a danger to you, or do things that are a danger to you (the last two tempered by your true understanding of the consequences) and you will do your homework and fulfill your responsibilities in life. You will also hate me for insuring this.

I have made a promise to you, even as you now sleep, on this night. I am willing to suffer that pain you have the unique power of causing me, and sacrifice the years as your buddy that I could have, on the hope that when you are the age that I am now and you read this you will know that, while everyone knows I am an asshole, in this regard that asshole made you who you are today. A person who, if I am enough of an asshole, will be much better off than I was when I wrote this.

I could be your best buddy, and I will try to be so as much as possible. However, I would do you a great injustice to sacrifice you in order to do so. So I sacrifice myself now, to the torture of the tears and "I hate you" declarations that are sure to come, in the hopes of that one moment when you look back on those years and realize that it really was all about you. One thank you when you realize that will erase the pain of the intervening years. Even without that thank you, seeing you make yourself into something will certainly do the trick.

Know that I love you. Know that the pain I cause will never be greater than the pain I am trying to protect you from. I will do all that is humanly possible to protect you, including teaching you to protect yourself.

The rest will just be life, or something close to it.

Samhain

Other than my complaint about not getting to listen to the preachers again this year, I haven't commented much on Samhain. (Not even to cop out like I did last year by linking to the article from the year before.) I fully planned on commenting on it, as for various reasons Samhain was going to be more notable this year than for several years past. In that presumption I turned out to be somewhat correct.

There were two reasons that I expected this to be a notable Samhain. First, being a celebration of honor and remembrance of the recently departed, the loss of one of the most important people in my life this year was certainly going to come into play. As of yet, I have not celebrated a Samhain in which such an important person was central in my personal celebration. I wasn't sure if this was going to make for a good night or not.

The second notable reason was the fact that a Wiccan friend of mine would be coming with her family. It has been several years since I have practiced any Samhain celebration with others who had their own religious/spiritual attachment to the celebration. Our two families had a wonderful time on Lughnassadh, and I imagined that this too would be a quite enjoyable experience.

These were the thoughts if things didn't go wrong. Now I will move on to the realities of my Samhain preparation and celebration. The day before Samhain, while at work, I gave my Wiccan friend my cell phone number again, in case she had misplaced it. I told her that I fully expected plans to be changed many times over the course of the following day, and I would just appreciate it if she updated me when they did, since she had no cell phone (and would be moving from house to house several times during the day) and I would probably be incapable of calling and checking in with her.

The morning of Samhain, I got up much earlier than any mortal should be waking (like 10am or so) and went to work on preparing the house for guests. You see, for those of you who don't know me, how the hell did you end up here? Oh, wait, that wasn't what I was going to say. For those of you who don't know me, I live in a house full of working adults, a 2 yrd old and a destructive little four legged monster that is supposedly a dog. In short, when we entertain, it requires some serious housework to make the place as presentable as possible. We make up for the fact that the place gets cluttered through daily life by making everything shine (including the carpets) when we have guests.

So that early hour had me scrubbing the bathroom from ceiling to floor, just like uncle sam taught me. It had us doing every scrap of laundry in the house. It had every surface sparkling and every one of the kids toys put away. (The latter was an endlessly repeated chore.) We prepared things for the spiritual and casual sides of the celebration, got as much to be "just so" as possible and headed out to the changeling's birthday party.

After her birthday party, I took off while they were taking the kids trick or treating, and my sister and I made final preparations and waited.

That last word is the most important part. Because we did a lot of it. The expected arrival time if nothing changed (remember the phone call I was receiving if it did?) was 6:30p. Messages were left at their home at 8:30p. We finally decided to begin our own miniature celebration at 9:30p. We never heard, and they never showed.

I have worked with this friend of mine and her boyfriend several times since then. I am too professional to say anything to them in the work setting. Neither side has brought it up at all.

So the celebration was noteworthy. Not in the way I celebrated, as it was basically a solitary event as it has been in years past. It was noteworthy because out of all of the various egocentric folks I have known along the path I have walked (and there have been a few) I have never been so directly disrespected as that. I don't ever remember being so angry following Samhain at any other point in my life. There is only one reason I can't say it was ruined by my attempt to reach out to these disrespectful people. Because it was for me, basically a day for Jamesomeone, and as far as he was concerned I couldn't have helped but hear him telling me to let it go. I don't think I can just let it go. As I have said before, forgiveness isn't my thing. But for that night, I could hear him as if he was right there, telling me that this disrespect to him wasn't that important. It's what he would have said. He would have been wrong, but it is what he would have said. For that, perhaps I owe them something. Other than a good swift kick in the ass. But lets take care of first things first.

Thus concludes my Samhain tirade. Feel free to return to your life, or something close to it.