Media Struggles

Hell

I knew the ugly was going to get uglier. When they found the kidnapped boys in the small apartment I knew and I was right. It may be that the public needs to hear about it, but as the horrific details began to emerge I am stifled to even breathe. A little boy's trauma plastered in the news...

They can paint it with their "half-full" phraseology of a "Missouri Miracle", and no doubt it was, but I was raised by two Michael Devlins and I know. The entrapment...the helplessness...the identifying...the shame...the terror...the instinct to survive even though you don't want to...then the worst -- the war to get back something you may have never even had to begin with more less get again.

Neighbors say "he always seemed like an average guy" but now they call him "a monster." They properly coin him as a freak but do not realize that there is likely a similar one already in their neighbor's house down the street. Nevertheless, my vengeful wish is that he live long and suffer. I'm not proud of it but it is true.

I hope they do not let him die -- that they do not let him live his life in a jail cell where his health needs are taken care of -- that they strip him of his clothes, throw him into an isolation cell, let the diabetes eat off the rest of his body, and let him suffer long until he rots dead.

I Run From The Ball

Do dreams make no sound
As they die...the worst thing is knowing that I'll survive...*

That's right, I run from the ball. Picture this: pee-wee volleyball - skinny kid with spindly arms - ball larger than head - trying to pop the ball over a 50-foot net from behind a line that is a mile away. A couple of coaches were vaguely amused and tried tediously to help me get the ball over the net but it would not happen for years to come.

Though I did improve, I hated that sport. Yelling "GOT IT!" and attacking the ball was not my thing and usually ended up with me crashing into someone and both of us sent to the floor. Also, when the ball hit -- it hit hard. Hard enough that I just knew I would be again crashing to that concrete-hard, shiny wooden floor with half-an-inch of wax and that my head would gush with blood and I would be disemboweled that very moment. ...okay, a little extreme but that's what it felt like.

So I run from the ball. I've always ran...long and hard. Some say that running is sometimes actually standing up to something...saying "I won't do that or I won't live like that." The trick to the game is probably knowing the difference.

And I watched as you turned away
You don't remember, but I do
You never even tried

Don't fall away and leave me to myself
Don't fall away and leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again **

*Fuel,Hemorrhage(In My Hands), Something Like Human
**Fuel, Die Like This, Natural Selection

The White Van That Stole My Teeth

Still with nothing good or hopeful to blog about, I'm actually NOT going to blog the hopeless and not-good things I have to say. So I'm going to tell another twisted childhood story that others seem to be so fascinated about -- the story of teeth and the white van.

So, it was another sunny day in my tiny first-grade classroom when the voice of the principal's secretary came over the intercom and started calling out student's names. One by one, students were led out of the classroom and when they came back they were in shock and missing teeth!

Sadly I, in my own la-la-land, was able to just write it off and not pay attention; that is, until MY name was called out.

Dressed in her white uniform, the school nurse led me out to the parking lot where there was a white van waiting for me. I crawled up into the van and a large man swept me up into a large chair. Something about the smell did not seem right to me but before I knew what had happened the man had removed my two front teeth, placed them in a towelette, and told me to take them home to my mother.

I had went to school that day, minding my own business with all my teeth, and the next thing I knew was that I had two bloody holes in my mouth! Though I now assume my mother gave consent to the whole ordeal, she had never spoken a word about it and was surprised to find me without teeth that evening. I do not recall having ANY decay in my front teeth and hadn't been to a dentist before that would confirm such.

Looking back, I guess that it was some government-funded dental project for poor and rural areas but it still remains a mystery to me and my classmates. Also, for the next year a rumor ran rampant that there was a mysterious white van kidnapping children so none of us went near the edge of the playground during recess out of fear.

My teeth grew back but they are surreal to me.

Nocturnal Chatterings #6

- I'm really not having chatterings, just can't sleep again. Eating away at my empty stomach, the ruthless stress has teeth.
-I can't seem to eat much, especially in the evenings when I have to come home. Much of the stress is here. Maybe if I could eat more then I could sleep better.
-I don't want to find a new place to live. I don't want to disrupt 40 gallons of fish, three cats, myself, and a spouse.
-I know that I need a lifestyle change. Working so much is not good, no exercise is not good, not eating is not good.
-I wish I could give more hope to others reading this blog.

I Must Find That Which Was Lost

"I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassels and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same"*

Major life decisions are usually hard and complicated. They tend to sweep me under like a huge salty wave. Often, they involve causing hurt to others and this is very painful to me. Avoiding any harm, I put off major decisions as long as possible. Not until the point of losing more of my soul is upon me that I give in and make painful decisions.

I lost my soul a very long time ago. Thought stolen and/or dead, I believed I would never get it back. Often, I have not even wanted to try because if I ever were to get it back then the grief reminder from the loss would be to great for me to even breathe.

Tonight, I looked at my favorite cat and said to myself, "I love him so much. He is an embodiment of part of my very soul and I love him dearly. I do not know how I would live without him." Then it struck me what I had essentially said: that I loved my own soul. The thought of loving my soul...my essence..my very self... This causes feelings of shame to overwhelm me and that is sad.

"Only night will ever know
Why the heavens never show
All the dreams there are to know"*

I do not know what to say about this. It is too personal yet too foreign. I'll just cite a song that give me hope that I will find my whole soul again:

"Fallen Embers"

"Once, as my heart remembers,
All the stars were fallen embers.
Once, when night seemed forever
I was with you.

Once, in the care of morning
In the air was all belonging.
Once, when that day was dawning.
I was with you.

How far we are from morning.
How far are we
And the stars shining through the darkness,
Falling in the air.

Once, as the night was leaving
Into us our dreams were worth keeping.
Once, all dreams were worth keeping.
I was with you.

Once, when our hearts were singing,
I was with you."*

*Enya, "A Day Without Rain" & "Paint the Sky With Stars"

4AM Cat's Tongue or Rubbed Raw

There's nothing like being woken up to someone sand-papering your face -- especially if you already have insomnia and, thus, can't get back to sleep. I am reminded of a story.

Somewhere between first and third grade I had a classmate with whom I would frequently visit. Our mothers knew each other so they would sometimes visit as well. Apparently, this girl's mother did not want her to be wearing make-up and it was a BIG "NO-NO." Being a tom-boy, I did not see the issue this presented to my friend but whatever...she was obsessed with it. That was when she decided to try some cosmetics on me and the horror began.

At first it wasn't so bad but then she heard her mother in the other room and became extremely paranoid so she decided to wash it off me. The problem began when she determined that she couldn't get enough of it off me and that her deceitfulness was going to be discovered. There was something red about my left cheek so she rubbed...and she rubbed...and she rubbed...etc.

My cheek was very sore and I'm sure her mother noticed because the next day I woke up the left side of my face was all gooey, raw, and pink. A day later the wound began to turn into a nice brownish 3 x 3 inch scab and the interrogations at school and home began.

I tried to explain to the teachers, and everyone, that a girl had, matter-of-factly, simply rubbed the hyde off my face. Apparently, this caused allot of confusion, commotion, and I tired of it quickly so I began to lie to them. When one kid's mother asked me what had happened, I told her that "I got into a fight and you should see the other guy. Grrrrrrrrr!!!!" That was my reason and from then on, somewhere between my under-developed frame and the growling, and no more questions ensued.

The big question here is why did I let the hyde be rubbed off my cheek in the first place? I suppose I felt the fear of her mother's wrath and sympathized with the girl and also had too much of the victim mentality by then. In any event, it makes for a good party story.

Prologue: I did try to go back to sleep by using some techniques taught to me by a therapist but the wetness of cat #2's nose bamming me in the face made such impossible. So this time, I'm waiting for a Klonopin to kick in and then I am going to completely cover myself with blankets.

The Horror Of Darkness

Kurtz: I've seen horrors... horrors that you've seen.... but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror. Horror has a face.*

2:44am

with a thin t-shirt, I stuff into my mouth to bite down the screams of terror screeching up from the bottom of my acidic stomach, i crawl under a warm blanket to escape the chill which won't go away. what to do when the hauntings wrench your gut with such an agony that you can hardly breathe, even more want to. it follows you, the trauma follows you, and effects every moment of your life whether asleep or awake. those with whom you've had chances with are lost. you've been robbed. the list of possessions is too long to recoup and there is no insurance for such.

you walk through the day with your brain in a different mode from others. you've seen things, heard things, smelled things, felt things that should not have been consumed by any senses. it makes you different. you are a freak now. it builds a wall around you so that when you manage to break through no one knows quite what to do with you. people expect things of you but you can't figure out what, their voices blurring together like drugged fogs. you are supposed to be one thing but you are really another but no one knows or cares to know. it's too hard to know.

they find out what is important to you and they take it away. senseless acts of evil sneaking into a simple human body. threats keep you quiet and in your place. to the clueless, you look normal if you are able to walk around by day instead of holed up in a blanket.

Willard: Someday this war's gonna end. That'd be just fine with the boys on the boat. They weren't looking for anything more than a way home. Trouble is, I'd been back there, and I knew that it just didn't exist anymore. *

[quoting Kurtz]
Willard: In a war there are many moments for compassion and tender action. There are many moments for ruthless action - what is often called ruthless - what may in many circumstances be only clarity, seeing clearly what there is to be done and doing it, directly, quickly, awake, looking at it. *

*Apocalypse Now, 1979

Finding That Which Was Lost

"...And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.”"

Awake at 3am is not a good sign.

The entire St. Louis region has been glued to the TV astounded by the discovery of two missing boys. That fact that one was found was amazing but that two were found is beyond belief -- yet it happened. I remember clearly the picture of the bicycle from which the older boy had seemingly vanished into thin air over four years ago. Almost an evil blessing that it took one lost child to find another.

It has to take threats to get a child into a car and keep him for any length of time. Threats can be hard to recover from. The longer you live with them the more they change you. Like toxins, they poison your world and shape it into something unrecognizable and seemingly unbearable.

The trauma is haunting but there is no exorcism for it. I've had trauma and have searched every known avenue seeking resolution. Lately, the disillusionment that I would free myself has become too clear and the darkness of it is blinding.

Vividly, I recall living trapped in a house of torture where there was no escape. Threats of terror if I were to leave or tell burdened me heavily. I did not want anyone to get hurt.

Strange that even though the threat of violence is gone I still feel trapped in a house burdened by the misery of others and myself. If I could pack up and leave the sense of hopelessness and doom behind then I surely would but since I've done that once already I know that it would not work. My brooding haunted self will follow.

I hope that the boys get past the shock, the senseless self-blame and shame that replace the utter helplessness, the rage that surely should follow, and find peace. I hope we all do. Finding something lost is a good thing.

Missing Child

newslink

Amber Alert Issued for Ben Ownby
Last Seen: Monday, January 8, 2007 around 3:30 p.m.
Beaufort, MO (Franklin County)

Name: William " Ben" Ownby (male)
Age: 13
Height: 4 foot 10
Weight: 100 lbs.
Other: brown hair, blue eyes, last seen wearing a St. Louis Rams windbreaker and blue jeans. He was also wearing glasses.

Disappearance synopsis:
Officials say William "Ben" Ownby was last seen after he exited his school bus near his home on Burth Lane and Highway 50 in Franklin County, Mo.
Investigators believe Ben may have been abducted by someone driving a truck described as a white, possibly Nissan pickup truck with a camper shell and large rust spots. A witness said he saw a truck speed from the area after he and Ben split up.

Contact Information: If you have any information, please call:

Franklin County Sheriff's Department: 636-583-2567
911

Funds, Family Assistance

Ben Ownby Benefit Fund
A benefit fund has been established for the family of Ben Ownby to assist them while they search for Ben.
Donations can be made payable to:
Union Area Chamber of Commerce: Ownby Family Benefit
103 South Oak Street/P.O. Box 168
Union, MO 63084
Phone: 636-583-2555
www.unionmochamber.org
Donations can be made in person.

Find Ben Reward Fund
A reward fund has been established to raise money to offer as a reward for information leading to the safe return of Ben Ownby.
Dontations can be made payable to:
Union Bank Of Missouri
103 South Oak Street/P.O. Box 168
Union, MO 63084
Phone: 636-583-2555

Step Four: The Decision

"the world is silent, the clocks have stopped again.

i can see the ship that sailed has sunk to the bottom of the sea. I burn. My heart beats the tune that this is no fantasy, this is real. This is when you become dizzy with hate."*

I can't describe the mysterious world I seek as it seems I have not yet arrived. I can only search vehemently and learn from others. Only can I HOPE for Frankie's enlightenment:

::Sweating nervously in an AA meeting::

"My name is Frankie. And I am a violent man. I woke up one morning. It was winter. I could see an oak tree standing right next to me. It was cold. At first I couldn't feel anything and then I realized that my face was frozen to the ground. I couldn't lift it. It was stuck. I don't know how long I'd been there but it was long enough to freeze me. Something bad had happened. Something violent. My hands were free and I could see that they were blood red. But my thoughts were clear: They told me that I was a dead person. Dead, no longer living. Lifeless.

I remembered everything. Everything from the past. The past was there in front of me. As the sun came up my face was released but for a while I didn't want to get up. I just lay there listening to my thoughts about the past. This is where the world spins in the wrong direction, where it ends. The realization that everything that you ever wanted will never happen. Gone. Gone forever. 16 fucking years and gone. Think of all the love you gave people who never understood that what you were doing was for them and all you ever wanted back was something small. Hope. Not charity. You wanted them to make hope beautiful again.

After a while I got up and for the first time I understood something that had real meaning. You can't escape from what you are. You can only try and make you a better person. Anyway, I'm trying, and that's all I'm doing...trying to be better, trying not to give up. I guess what I'm trying to say is that things may not have worked out like you might have hoped and it's up to you to get on with it. ....Even though you feel that hope is tired and suddenly it isn't available any more... " *

The first step was HOPE. The second step was BETRAYAL. The third step was THE WAR. The fourth step was THE DECISION. The fifth step will be REBUILDING.

*"Frankie Mac", 16 Years of Alcohol.

The Bottom Line

"Faith is an island in the setting sun, But proof is the bottom line for everyone.” Paul Simon

I've always wanted to be stronger. I want to be the person with never-ending patience, understanding, and compassion but I always seem to fail.

In the business world, it is good to be understanding of an employee going through difficult times knowing that the troubles will pass and keeping the employee is worth the wait. Problems occur when the troubles never seem to pass and the BOTTOM LINE is reached. If the employer does not have a bottom line then there is a threat to the existence of the whole company. Should the company go under for one person? I don't know. Risking his flock, there was supposedly a shepherd who went in search of just one sheep.

I've come to the bottom line too many times with people. I do not know if it is because I've had extremes in "troubled" people or ... I am just not strong enough. I ALWAYS blame myself because there is ALWAYS a bottom line -- the point where my emotional and/or physical well-being come crashing down into a pile of rubble which I cannot seem to rebuild very easily.

For example, how long should a person suffer for an addict to obtain some sort of self-intuition and act on it? How long should a person hope to be seen, heard, and loved for who he/she is when the other person does not even seem capable of that for their own self? How long does a spouse wait for an abusive spouse to stop the beating or how long does a child endure parental abuse?

The answer always lies is the stinky and rancid BOTTOM LINE -- the point where either survival of self overcomes kindness to others or death occurs.

I've prayed to be stronger. I thought I had done all the right things to be so: dealing with my own demons, making healthy decisions....but obviously, something has gone wrong. Again.

Step Three: The War

Because my own war continues to rage at a merciless pace, I haven't wanted to write this post on The War.

Frankie had lived a life of alcohol and violence until he met other people with different lifestyles. It was a long struggle for him to figure out who he was versus who he had believed himself to be. Keen insightfulness is probably what saved him. After one particular fight he sees the uselessness of violence:

"this is not the stuff that dreams are made of. Each second here is another education in the art of destruction. The wonder of hate. There's no heart left here. Only eyes that lie and people that charge through the day. Trying to remember where it all began is not good. All that matters is how it affects you and the people you care about. That's the real world. How easy is this? Too easy to stop. They say when a ship sinks the rats float to the top. Some people look forward to this time. "*

While on a date visiting an unfamiliar museum, it was obvious that Frankie was out of his element. He had predicted that the scene would not go well, and after some patrons were rude to him, he resorted to physical threats of bodily harm until his girlfriend pulled him to the side:

Girl: what was all that about? what happened in there?
Frankie: they were horrible, they showed me no respect.
Girl: ...you threatened to cut and hang them from a wall... what did you promise me? ....you said it was over. the violence, the drink, all that stuff was over. it's never going to be over. they hit you, you hit them. someone says something, you say something back. you look for it. it doesn't come looking for you -- you're always on the lookout for it.
Frankie: what am i on the lookout for?
Girl: the past.

Even when we think something dark is behind us we go searching out for it like a hunter seeking to destroy monstrous prey. The need to put a resolve to a never-ending ache can be tremendous enough that it only causes us more grief.

Later, Frankie heads back to the bottle:

"people talk of strength at times like this.
strength of character - be strong, be a man, say no....
just when you thought it was in your grasp...you find yourself back where you started.
nothing is ever as easy as people would have you think. nothing. vodka, vodka, vodka...
where is love when you need it most. where is love when the past begins to leak into your heart.
where is hope...in a hopeless place?...."*

Time and again, Frankie is tossed back and forth between his old lifestyle and the fragile new one. Teased about his new girlfriend and lifestyle, he is threatened by old gang members:

"We heard you were a born-again. must have been given the wrong information. can't imagine ms. goody two-shoes would be too impressed. maybe I'll knock on her door and let her know her projects fucked. Her funny little experiment has fallen apart."*

Step One is Hope. Step Two is Betrayal. Step Three is The War. Step Four will be The Decision.

*"Frankie Mac", 16 Years of Alcohol.

Curses, bashings, and "I'm Only Concerned About the Kids"

I know I haven't blogged for a while. I've been busy with resting and trying to get healthy. I will finish the "Step..." series but this morning something jumped out and lit my heater up: the on-going fiasco with the St. Louis School Board. Who the hell voted for these people?

Diana Bourisaw, left, and Veronica O'Brien

Apparently, there was an emergency closed-door school board meeting called by the board president (Veronica O'Brien) to discuss the firing of the SIXTH superintendent (Diana Bourisaw) serving in the past three years. The session was described as a personal attack on current superintendent Bourisaw with no legitimate complaints.

One board member stated that. "They were hurling accusations at her, trying to demoralize her to the point she would quit," Purdy said. "If this was a school yard, you would call it bullying — that's all it is." This superintendent has only been in office for ONE semester.

Another member complained "I haven't seen her (Bourisaw) do anything productive. She doesn't have the leadership qualities we are looking for in a superintendent," he said. (I'm assuming he is meaning a "yes-man/woman" to do whatever the psychotic board ramblings dictate.)

How could ANYONE get a school system out of such a mess in one semester? Since 2001, the district’s fund balance has dropped from $63 million to a deficit of $30 million. Progress in test scores in the elementary schools has been offset by declines in middle school and high school performance. How can any good come from a group of people who are known for their violent arguing, walking out of meetings, throwing water over each other's head in anger, and placing "curses" upon one another.

I've seen the Bourisaw working in different school systems for the past few years. Whether or not she is right for this particular job is too soon to say. But I do know that she is very intelligent, experienced, and is a kind person. It is the school board, not the superintendents, that have been the problem. Specifically, the president of the school board is completely out of control. During her Fox 2 interview this morning, it was clear that Veronica O'Brien could or would not answer a question in any constructive manner.

A tidbit of history here: the new superintendent recently submitted a report to the state on the poor, but factual, condition of the school system. At one point the president did not want the state to intervene in this situation yet today (post-report) she suddenly announces that she thinks they should intervene. I have news for her, she no longer has a choice because the staties surely are already packing their bags.

With a long history of working with the mentally unstable and a few degrees in mental health, it has become fairly easy for me to identify severe and unstable personality disorders (thought I hate the coinage of terms). Extremely unstable and unpredictable, this president is manipulative and motivated by forces unknown. The frightening part is when she states "I'm only concerned about the kids" -- a mantra for all the school board. As if saying such will make their absurd behavior ok:

• "I'm only doing this for the kids": bash you over the head with a water pitcher...
• "I'm only doing this for the kids": put a witchy curse on your rotten soul...
• "I'm only doing this for the kids": cursing like a sailor regarding your personal life...

I encourage you to write a letter or e-mail to the Department of Education @ http://dese.mo.gov/contactus.html.

Here is a portion of my e-mail:

"Whether or not Dr. Diana M. Bourisaw is able to do a good job is not the issue here as she has not been give sufficient chance to prove herself. The School Board, specifically president Veronica O'Brien, has a history of disruptive behavior. In any organizational structure, dysfunction, corruptness, and incompetency often start from the top and trickle down their inefficiency onto others. At least move to replace Veronica O'Brien with vice president Mr. William Purdy. Possibly better yet, replace the whole board."

Honestly, if no one calls Nancy Grace soon then I'm going to start wearing my "VOTE FOR PEDRO" shirts again.