My home life is a sort of solitary confinement, since I have no regular visitors, so my mental stimulation and social exposure both come from going out to public places like the mall. Also, after breaking a 45-day television limited period, my news was coming from my computer via trusted sites and social media.
Never have I been more depressed about the condition our country is in.
While I was in a store finishing my purchases, the woman behind the counter chatted with me about general things, and somehow the subject was brought up of a student suicide attempt where she is on the faculty. The student in question was suspected of having a mixed home life (with a possible dishonorable parent present). She apparently downed a handful of over-the-counter pills in the restroom, then called 911 on herself and sat in the main lobby waiting for the paramedics to arrive, not even alerting the main office staff. The subject of bullying came up, because I told her how I felt about the issue. Earlier this year, a student in a school system not far from mine died by suicide to rid herself of the constant bullying she was experiencing. The woman at the counter told me that nothing was ever done to bullies, because detention or other attempts to call attention to bad behavior hurts their feelings.
So bullying is not only okay in schools, but the system is discouraging punishment for it.
As I was leaving the store (a women’s clothier), a young lad of about three years old was being driven through the mall in a kid-friendly push cart by his father. The kid was raising the retractable parent handle out of its holder and banging it down repetitively, with the wild-eyed look of overstimulation on his face. Other shoppers were trying valiantly to glance away and ignore the commotion, but having just been mentally blown away by the status of school-age behavior, I was in a bad mood.
Mind you, I never had the privilege of being around children, but I know enough about parenting techniques which are tested and proven that I just went for it. The father was looking at me sheepishly as I regarded the young man and said, “My goodness! What happens when it’s broken and you can’t play with it anymore?” This did give the tyke pause. The dad said, “Move on to the next thing to break.” I laughed good-naturedly, smiled at the poor dad and then continued speaking to the kid. “Do you know what’s better? Building things! Building things is great. You can make whatever you want, and then break it and start over.” I then extended my apologies to the dad, who didn’t seem put out by my presence, and I left the store feeling like the Lil’ Abner character Joe with the unpronounceable last name who had a perpetual cloud over his head.
I was three for three: the dinner I had before entering the store–two slices of mushroom pizza–was as cardboard-like as I had anticipated, and things got worse from there.
A woman with a rented retail cart approached me and wanted to use one of her straightening gizmos on my hair. Those demo model flat irons have been used on too many other people’s heads for my comfort. I had to back away like a scared cat and make a run for it. Working for commission or getting people’s attention for a start-up can cause desperation to sink in, but for goodness sake, don’t abduct people.
Back at home, I watched a few videos, and was disgusted to find that a college student thought that San Francisco was not in California, that another thought she and her significant other both needed to take her birth control pills (thus using up a 28-day supply in 14 days), and the reason a third pound burger lost its popularity on a restaurant’s menu was because people thought a quarter pound was more meat.
Then I was brought into a courtroom video featuring a sovereign citizen. This is loosely defined as a person who apparently likes living in the US because they can decide to reject government and invoke their own individual anarchistic method of living, in which they need not be held accountable for obtaining proper identification or obeying common safety-oriented laws. This means they have no license, their vehicles have no plates, and if they are arrested for suspicion of an offense, they simply say they won’t accept judgment nor the persons invoking it. That endlessly horrendous piece of time in my life I would not get back definitely beat out the folks on the docket who claimed Jesus to be their lawyer or represented (yawn) themselves in court (and often lost). Next was a woman who said she needed to breathe, so refused to cover her nose and mouth like the hundred or more passengers–who, obviously, were breathing just fine–and enjoyed the chaos she created until she was escorted off the flight.
This is the current generation, developed over two to three decades of inattention, misinformation and gross neglect.
If I didn’t benefit from the walking and conversation, I would opt for the quiet of staying home with the computer and TV off. Better silence than all of this.
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