My Love/Hate Relationship With Authority

Here is a sketch (sorry for the poor quality scan) of one of my high school English teachers, Mr. Ballor. As far as I know he is still teaching at Alliance High School, to the delight and consternation of his students. When I was in his class I made his life a living hell.

I really liked Mr. Ballor, but I also hated him. I had major problems with authority at the time. It could be argued that I still do. I made it a priority to annoy him, even though he was one of the coolest teachers I ever had. He ran with the bulls in Pamplona, rocked the major mustache, and was generally full of wild stories.

I think I wanted to impress him with my writing ability, but it was not to be. I took journalism from him (as well as English and Humanities) and he delivered the news to me that he didn't think I had a knack for it. He told me, in fact, that I would never make it as a journalist because I was too much of a poet. I stormed out of his class and dropped it that very afternoon. I was so hurt, and it sorta stuck with me.

I think that when I was working as a freelance writer and food stylist I actually called the school and left him a sort of "neiner neiner" message that I was, in fact, doing just fine as a journalist, thank you very much. Big deal. I never heard back.

I sometimes wonder what he would make of my writing now. I wonder what I would make of his opinion. I wonder if I would still think he was cool, considering he is still in Alliance, and I have been traveling all over.

He's just one of the many ghosts from Alliance that I will probably never see again, since I don't venture back there. Just a random thing that crosses my mind when people tell me that what I want is impossible.

I think to myself that if a "mere poet" can work at a newspaper against the stated odds, then why can't I do whatever it is that I am being told I cannot possibly do? Neiner, neiner, authority. I point my middle finger in your general direction. I would love it if I had your approval, but if I can't have it on my own terms, then I will just have to approve of myself, and the rest of you lot can get bent.

Happy Birthday Keith!

Today is my dear friend Keith's birthday. This is him in 1984. Today he is 39 and even cuter.

Happy Birthday, dude. I wish I could take you out for a pint today. You deserve all the good things in life.

The Trouble With Stacie

If the last year or two have had a theme, it would certainly be "tying up loose ends". Having a presence of any kind on the web means, for me, running into old friends acquaintances in unexpected ways and at random times.

It is super-pleasant to catch up with people, especially if they harbor fond memories of me. That is a nice ego-stroke, for sure. The only downside of these remembrances of things past is the constant reminder that I was a late bloomer to the effective communication game. Gawd, I was awful. The temptation to beat myself up for something I did at 15 is pretty compelling. Tongue firmly in cheek, I have to at least make fun of myself here:

I have to pinch the bridge of my nose a little when I think about, for instance, the awkward and terrified attitude I carried with me to my very first date. That poor boy was so nice to me, and I didn't even let him hold my hand. Let's just say I was a less than gracious companion. My mother was so worried about me going on a date that she remonstrated me to be protective of my body (and presumably, my virtue), and she gave me more money than was strictly in the budget so that if things went horribly awry I could not only take a taxi home, but reimburse my hapless date for his trouble. I guess my mom was trying to make a point to me that I didn't have to make out with a boy because he bought me a movie ticket and some Junior Mints. Way to overkill, mom. I took a perfectly gentlemanly teenage boy and made absolutely certain that he wouldn't hazard to attempt to ask me out again. Brilliant.

*Waves at Keith*

I'm totally going the total public apology route on this one. Mea Culpa. You deserved the kind of friendly warmth that I wouldn't be able to muster on a date until I was at least 22. You were just way ahead of your time.

FAQ from the Stacie owner's manual

Some frequently asked questions I would prefer not to have to clarify any more. These are real questions people ask me on such a regular basis, it grates on my nerves.

Do you know you talk a lot?
Um, yeah. You wouldn't believe how mean people can be about it, so I have been told in many rude ways that I talk a lot. It happens a lot more when I am nervous or excited. Otherwise, I am just sort of naturally loquatious.

You say you can't have babies? Can I ask you for all the personal details? Don't you think you will get pregnant now that you are adopting?
I would really rather keep my medical issues and/or those of my husband private. Please take my word for it when I insist that it will never "just happen".

Well, I (questioner) am pregnant. Can I tell you, or will you have a nervous breakdown?
Of course you may tell me. At least give me the chance to tell you how happy I am for you. I love children, that is why I want to add some to my own family. I might feel a little sad sometimes that I won't ever experience pregnancy myself, but I also know that is my problem. I promise I will get over it and dote on your baby when it comes. I'm not going to freak out and toss myself out a window. That being said, if you make a big deal out of it like you are the first woman in history to ever give birth, and go on and on about how I am missing out on the magic, I'm likely to tell you it makes me uncomfortable.

Will you come to my baby shower?
No, I will not. I find that they make me too upset. It is good to know your limits, right?

What happened to your daughter's "real" parents?
We prefer to use the terms bio-parents or birth parents or first parents. In the ways that really matter day to day, I am "A"'s "real" mom. In any case, the details of her family of origin, as well as the specific reasons they are unable to parent her, are a part of her story, and thus hers to tell later on if she so chooses.

Do you accept Jesus as your personal saviour? Do you know you will got to hell if you don't?
No, and no I won't. Next question please.

Can I change your mind about that if I threaten you with violence or harrass you in some other way?
Sorry. No dice.

How does your husband put up with you?
He likes me. That, and I am so good in bed that he's willing to overlook my flaws. Come on, are you serious? Don't you see how insulting that question is?

You write fiction? Is it about me?
It is only about you if you piss me off. Then something very,very bad will happen to your character. You might have to sit on a donut for a while.

You quit being a chef? Why would you ever quit such an awesome job? It looks so cool on TV!
Haven't you figured out yet that life is not just like TV? Being a chef was a wonderfully creative job, and one that other people thought was pretty cool. It is also a profession that is really hard on family time, as well as being back-breaking work that I can't picture doing until I retire.

Will you go back to Alliance, Ohio for your next high school reunion?
No. Really. Fuck no. I'm still friends with the people I need. I'd rather crawl on my belly over broken glass and take an alcohol bath than go back there. Especially to hang out with people who never thought it was important to keep in touch in the first place.

There. That oughtta do it for a while. You may be excused.