Is it Wrong?

That every time my kids talk about stuff they're going to do when they grow up, like get married (their newest favorite thing to talk about) or become three or more of the six hundred things they want to be when they're older, or back talk adults because now they're kids and have to be "prespectful" (respectful) and "all that stuff grown ups think is how kids should be" ***insert gagging noises*** I remind them that it can happen only if they go to college first?

B was talking to the neighbor the other day, and she asked that typical adult to child question. "So what do you want to be when you grow up?" His standard response this month has been "A ROCK STAR." Up till last month, he wanted to be a red sports car, and the month before, a red dragon. This kid is obsessed with the color red, and I swear his TV time is limited. So, she's just about to alter the look of amusement on her face, (what would she have thought, had he told her her wanted to be a computer game and live in a monitor?) when he follows with "But, I have to go to Rock College first." She: Do you mean music school? He: No, Rock College is where rockers go to learn all about becoming Rock Stars.... You can't do anything in life if you don't go to college you know............ My mom says so."

He sounded like a parrot. His eyes took on a glassy look. How often do I say those words to my five year olds? How much am I brainwashing my kids? And, do they know when I say college, I really mean therapy?

Because, that's what J and I are saving for.

Fears of No Substance

I don't remember the last time we encountered a full weekend. And, by that I mean having some place to go, something different to do from Friday night, to Sunday evening.... Without a break. This weekend was somewhat like that... OK exactly like that, and I found I couldn't wake up on Monday morning, because my body ached, my head was the testing ground for atomic bombs, and my eyes itched.

It wasn't a hangover.

And, then I did something stupid. I got into an argument with an ultra Catholic boy scout type, who with every ounce of loyalty he possessed, every Bible verse he could Google, and every argument for "forgiveness" he could invent, defended the RCC for sheltering priests who were accused of child molestation.

I lost my cool in a way I haven't since the time I was a teenager, and full of self righteous rebellion against authority. It wasn't pretty, and it made the atomic bombs go off faster and with more power than Iran claims to have. So, I ranted to the huz who prefers to take the more laid back approach. "Don't argue with idiots."

But he isn't an idiot. He's a sanctimonious prick.

And, I probably need to stop speaking out against these types of things, or so people say. I don't see it happening anytime soon. I am incapable of allowing injustices to be swept under the rug once I've spotted them. It keeps my popularity ratings low (another nugget of information from folks around me), but I wasn't aware I even needed to have a rating, or was given one. I wasn't aware that I am by some silent, unofficial law not allowed to voice my opinion and disgust against an institution I was born and raised in. Although, sometimes vague memories of instructions on how to wear the blinders flit through my brain. It was part and parcel for belonging to the club. I refused to conform then, and I won't do it now. Besides, the punishment of ex-communication does not intimidate me. Never has, never will.

It's strange that today I feel a certain sense of gratitude towards the sanctimonious prick I argued with yesterday. He reminded me how dangerous it is to cave in to fear. Fear of an institution who can, and does wield it's power over the masses. Fear of not being accepted into what has become an elitist club for many, where leadership is faltering, and no one wants to do a damn thing about it. The fear of taking a stand and saying wrong is wrong, no matter what the cost to your social status, or promise for fulfillment in an afterlife.

Fears of no substance.