Wednesday, February 16, 2011

life is unfair

sometimes i think it is unfair how deeply i feel these things. perhaps i should've never had kids. perhaps i should've never fallen so deeply in love. perhaps i should've never kidded myself about my own worth in this vast universe. perhaps i should've listened, and accepted these dark moments that well up in my life.

now, allow me, o beloved non-existent readers; allow me to wallow. if you've been listening to this discordant little note in the great symphony of the world wide web for any length of time, you know the bend in the corner is coming soon.

and no, because some of you will worry, nothing is wrong between me and the wife.

but i am feeling the stresses of my life, o my beloveds, my droogs and only friends, o thou ptitsas and malchicks who keep coming back here and tolerating my incessant whining.

the oldest, apparently, is too smart for school. he can't be fucking bothered. schoolwork gets in the way of more important things (i.e. video games, drawing, writing stories, and building lego creations that are mind-boggling in their detail.) and while all those things in and of themselves are also amazing and have their place, i have to sit across the table from a surly, glowering nine-year-old and explain to him that if things don't change, he will be repeating the third grade, and then watch him shrug like it's no big deal.

and after futilely fighting that battle, i get to drag myself, exhausted and sapped of energy, to my own classes where i was promised several hours to work on a project to find out the teacher changed her mind, and in fact, i will indeed be going back to the school for most of tomorrow to get the project where i want it to be.

it is time. it is time for the overwhelming sense of failure to bear down on me like a stone might weigh upon a swimmer's back. i will flounder. i will sink. i will accept my fate.

perhaps i don't deserve these gifts. perhaps i am not one to the task. perhaps i never was.

and i have always secretly held that when the drowning man accepts his fate, he reaches an enlightenment beyond our ken; a simple peace and glory in knowing that he will in fact die at the bottom of the ocean with lungs full of water. and he will smile as it happens.

but you know what? i also believe in some supreme spin doctor who is turning this universe on its axis. and i believe that that motherfucker, for whatever reason that is beyond my ability to comprehend, that bastard believes in me. that son of a bitch gave me all these goddamn gifts in the first place.

and i don't fucking believe in going down without a fight. ok, maybe the sinking swimmer reaches some fucking enlightenment. good for him. i am just too fucking thick for that shit. i am the dumb cunt who will fight it till the very last breath is ripped from my lungs and then spend the first few weeks in heaven bitching about it.

fuck these tears that course my cheeks. a means to an end, nothing less. and i am not drowning, i just need the sun to shine again, i just need to feel that this momentary lapse is over and i am standing upright and tall again.

life is unfair. that might be the whole fucking point. and i don't have anything i have without being the luckiest dumb twat who ever walked the face of this whole green marble in all its history. westley said it best, in the princess bride: "life's not fair, highness. anyone who says differently is selling something."

a few more hours of listening to codeine, and crying, and i will have sorted which parts of the stone belong to me, and which parts i need not carry, and i will kick strongly to the surface, and exuberantly shout: "look at the pretty rock i found at the bottom of the ocean!"

thanks again, o thou, the long-suffering, for allowing me to get there on my own.

darth sardonic

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Blogger Sandrine said...

I know what you feel with your son.I had something similar with my oldest from kindergarten to third grade (he is in 5th now).I had to sit next to him every evening and ask him to do his homework about every other minute.It would take him hours and I would get frustrated and we were going back to the same the next day.I was getting really upset and stressed out about the whole thing.It did get better though and now he does it mostly without being reminded but OMG all those hours were grueling! He had the same attitude too like he didn't care.I remember in second grade he told me once"What do I need to do homework when some people in my class don't do it?"I said to him"You know what?Even if you are the only one giving it back,you still have to do it because I don't care about what everybody else is doing".I think the best you can do is know that this too shall pass and that he will be fine.You may get some gray hair out of it though,I know I did! ;0)Also he may be bored.Is there a gifted program in your school?You may want to have him tested.
Take care.

7:40 AM  
Blogger darth sardonic said...

ty sandrine, he might be bored, but he won't get into the gifted program because his behavior would disrupt it, and because he doesn't follow simple instructions. it's just gonna be a matter of time and way more patience than i give myself credit for.

10:12 AM  
Blogger zirelda said...

Sorry, I have so much going on right now that I got distracted.


Homework has been an ongoing battle with Rach since she was in 1st grade. Teachers would send her home with 100 math problems a night because she didn't get it and a list of words to learn to spell because she was going to learn to spell or else.

We spent many many nights with her crying and throwing fits and me wishing I drank more.

And every year, her teachers would end the year with the phrase, "Thank God for spell check."

Whatever. They weren't the ones at home at night with the kid.

The best advice I ever got from a friend was to take myself out of the homework equation and hire a tutor. Rach did more for the tutor than she was ever going to do for me, her homework was done by the time I got off of work and we had evenings we could enjoy with each other again.

She isn't stupid but I realized much later that she had a learning disorder. I asked the teachers about that when she was little and they said, "She's just lazy," or "She's just disorganized." Not to mention they would imply that I wasn't doing my job at home. That really ticked me off.

I wish I'd had her tested when she was younger. She'd probably do better now. But we have three years of high school left and she finally gets math even though she hates it and does well enough in english.

And she's going to college if it turns every hair on my head grey.

I don't even know what my point is now. Except maybe explore those options.

He may do more for someone else and he may have a different learning style or he may need more help than you can give.

Raising kids ain't for sissys, that's for sure. You do a great job with the boys.

6:55 AM  
Blogger darth sardonic said...

ty z yeah, no. 1 doesn't have a learning disorder, but he does have areally bad adhd. at school he works with one teacher, and three "tutors" or "special needs" teachers in small groups. he gives all of them no end of grief. i really think he thinks he is gonna keep getting away with this (at times, not every day.) all i can do is everything i have and can do, and hope he snaps out of it.

6:12 AM  

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