From the Archives: Dawn of the Brain-Dead

I realize that not many of you visit our little poli-blog, Good Mourning America, and that's fine of course. But I do want to direct you to a post I made there this evening (shares a title with this post and is hyperlinked to this post's title). Drew recently posted there about recent censorship issues, and I came across another that really moved me to tears over the idiocy of it all.

If this kid gets any sort of legal punishment, what repercussions can we expect? If Stephen King writes another monster novel set in Maine, should he be arrested and charged with terrorist threats towards the people of Maine?

I changed my mind

I'm done with the anonymous commenters.

Archive Replacement Update

The archives for 2004 are all back (the year I started the blog), those for 2005 will come later this week as I'm off to bed.

Sweet dreams.

Anonymous Posters

Really, I wish they'd have the temerity to reveal themselves. It's really easy to throw stones at people from your glass houses when your glass houses are invisible.

Still, despite my grnadmother's urging, I won't be removing your recent comments. Nor will I be removing the option for anonymous commenting, as otherwise I wouldn't have comments from my grandmother, mother, sister, Chrissy, Adj, or any other regular reader, all of whom I love, who doesn't have a Blogger account wouldn't be able to post a comment here (and they actually sign their names to their anon. posts).

Resurfacing

I'm slowly in the process of returning most of the posts from the archives back on to this blog. Gone are/will be posts with the aforementioned two pictures. Likewise, there'll be some editing of some content primarily to avoid a repeat of all this. Gone forever will be my other blog.

As said, the process is slow going (primarily because each post is being re-read and etc. before I re-place it here) but I'm hoping to have everything I want back up, back up by week's end.

What About the Children: From the Archives (June 8, 2004)

What about the children?

I realize, reading through this, that a casual reader, knowing nothing about me, could say those very words, could express misplaced over-concern upon reading my own descriptions of how much a sexual libertine I claim to be.

To these people, I say watch your own houses.

My children aren't exposed to my personal life, whether it be sex with my wife or whatever--my kids aren't in the bedroom; I'm not making out with the UPS guy on the couch in front of them. I would never, NEVER do anything to harm them. When they're old enough, they'll be talked to respectfully about daddy's sexuality.

I don't indoctrinate them with my own personal religious beliefs. Again, when they're of the apporpriate age/maturity, religious decisions will be their own to make--as they were my own when I was a child.

My kids are my life. They're my first priority; as they should be.

Anonymous Said:

"perhaps you should type d. evan peterson into the google search engine and see what comes up." (bolding is mine)

So, I did just that. Of the first 100 hits (10 search pages), actual references to me appear three times.

Two of them are links to globeofblogs.com which is a website that serves as a listing service (like a phonebook for web blogs). All it says about me:
"Evan ::: Naked Blue Jeans (the old name of this very blog, cribbed from a line in the movie Clerks)
(http://devanpeterson.blogspot.com/)
The intermittant ramblings of D. Evan Peterson"

The third link was a pdf of the rulebook for the card game Pirates of the Spanish Main, for which I was a playtester.

"all sorts of filthy words show up on ALL the various search engines associated with your name."

If that's the case, you'd have to be searching for me a lot harder than most, as the first ten pages would get you a site which would direct you here and doesn't use filthy words or images.

Penitent

As I understand it, Jesus is a whole lot of love and forgiveness. So why is it that some people are having such a hard time forgiving?

I don't know how many more ways I can apologize for my part in this week's disaster. Can't we go back to the place where we're putting the wants and needs of the children back to the fore?

Movie Minute

My friend Robert treated me to a movie tonight and we saw Skeleton Key. A little bit creepy, but not a scary movie (though it did prompt a cool discussion on fear which I'll relate when I'm less tired). I did enjoy the way it ended, as I've always been a fan of movies ended differently than the typical Hollywood happy ending.

p.s. Aimee--thank you. You're an amazing friend.

Unblocked & the Cure

I just finished my first draft of the story. It's utter garbage, but it's done. Whew.

and I've found the cure for my insomnia: depression and/or stress. Normally I'd be reading right now and wishing I could sleep; now my eyelids are like lead demanding I finish this and get to bed.

About the bad news, we still have no news. I have no clue how to interpret that and simply keep my hopes raised.

Blocked

I'm working on this story for class (my first in years. I've been doing the poetry in creative writing classes for the past eight years) and I'm blocked. It's a metaphor for my own fears of a cancer remission about a guy who has a successful surgery to remove a tumor, and the tumor continues to grow and kill from outside of the patient's body. But I'm stuck at the last act. I don't know whether I'm just too stressed from this weeks events, or too unsure of my prose to finish it and get it out for criticism (deadline for this go-around in class is tomorrow at noon).

I'm thinking it's probably a little bit of both. Obviously I'm stressed and have a lot on my mind right now, but I don't think it's wholly blocking my ability to write. I do need to shut everything out for a couple hours tonight though and get this story finished.

Yesterday, pt. 2

In the midst of all this, I also had school recommencing this week. After three semesters off, I'm finally back, and my first class was last night at six. I wish the class I still need were being offered so I can actually finish my degree--maybe someday. In the meantime, I finally have a collegiate creative outlet again with the graduate writer's workshop with Carole Oles, who's just the best teacher ever. Ian's in the class too, which should prove interesting, as we've never actually read each other's work.

Yesterday pt. 1

Yesterday Denise and I had a sit down meeting with our supervisors at the foster agency where we were gently interrogated about most every aspect of our life in order to reassure them that we're still good people and that they still want us for foster parenting.

It went well, and they'll be recommending to the county that we don't lose our liscence while we do get a slap on the hand for my putting those two pictures online (won't happen again). I also have to be sure that if I own a vulgar shirt, I don't wear it around the kids and that we continue to make sure the kids aren't accessing this site when they have internet time, etc.

The next step is just trying to get the kids back. We have a chance for one, but will likely never see the other again.

Everything is just very perturbing.

Thanks to everyone who commented below to share their support. Every one of you are wonderful and we appreciate the comments.

Bad Day Explained

Yesterday, two of our foster children were abruptly removed from our home because of this very blog. A birth parent had found this blog and set a stir in motion that became quite reactionary.

Long time readers will of course wonder what's so wrong with this journal that our family should be torn apart:

1. On two occasions I posted pictures of the family visiting Denise and I at the hospital when she was in for birthing Rael and I was in for lung surgery. These family pictures included these two foster children (and well our family pictures should include them, they were, strike that, are our family). In my fervor for showing the love I have for my family, I forgot that allowing their images to be online was against the rules (instead, I should have photoshopped them out, even though I did remember to be sure not to identify them as foster children. Heck, I didn't identify anybody--to the point that readers like Drew had to ask me which one was Denise in the hospital pic for me). Posting those two family photos was a mistake and now everyone has to suffer for it. God I'm so sorry that happened.
1a. Though I occasionally discuss life with the foster children, I always have kept their identities anonymous. If the kids were the Simpsons, they would never have been refered to as "Bart" or "Lisa," as I was always careful to preserve their privacy (except for the mistake of two family pictures that lacked identifying information anyway).

2. Sometimes I use profanity here. Anyone who spends any time around me and my family would know that I'm very, very particular in my speech around children, mine or otherwise. If I want to say a bad word, I have every right to; still, I don't say them around my children (foster or bio) and none of my children (foster or bio) read this web journal or have its address. In fact, when any of our kids are online at all, Denise or I sit here with them monitoring them the entire time to make sure their web browsing is appropriate.

3. In the 300+ posts that existed previously, exactly one of those posts contained a criticism of social work, even though the social worker and foster child(ren?) involved were kept completely anonymous. This one post has labeled me as someone who uses this blog to write about how much I hate county employees and think extremely ill of them. Neither of which is true. I had exactly one post about my birth father and how much I despise him; does that mean this blog was then a venue for my contempt and criticism towards fathers? No. One instance of anything does not a trend make.

4. I had a link, a link to T-Shirt Hell, an online store that sells t-shirts. Many of their shirts are vulgar. Almost as many of their shirts are merely scathing towards politics (one reads: "Bet You'll Vote Next Time, Hippy" with a picture of the President), pop culture ("I Support Whatever's Trendy" written on a yellow ribbon) or religion ("WWJD for a Klondike Bar"). However vulgar or prurient any of the shirts are, they weren't depicted here, and, again, my kids weren't/aren't allowed here (or there) anyway.

So what if items 2-4 are outright malarkey. I did do wrong in number one. I don't think our family should have been so harshly torn asunder for a mistake that was made in love for my family. Perhaps a slap on the hand and order to remove the pictures would have been more reasonable, but it isn't for me to decide.

I love my kids. I love those kids. Heck, I wanted to adopt both of those kids. I hope they're ok. If their new homes are more lenient with internet usage and they ever find their way here, I hope they read this paragraph and know they'll always be in our hearts.

Folks, if I never type the words "foster kid" here again, you know why.

Seeing Red

I'm having a bad day



bisexual peterson chico

Christmas in Your Liver

At a party this week we had a new drink made for us that we affectionately started calling Christmas in Your Liver: 1 part vodka; 1 part apple cider, heavy dash of cinnamon.



It tastes like apple pie, which I actually hate, but IT was yummy.

Hey Now, You're a Rockstar

My latest sick reality tv fascination is Rock Star: INXS. I started watching it when I was in the hospital, and somehow decided to keep checking in at home.

I suppose I could rant on about whether or not INXS is even a viable band anymore. They hit their creative peak way back when I was in highschool, and a freshman at that (say, about sixteen years ago). I remember really starting to dig them as a freshman when this girl I was into would make me listen to them all the time. Still, I did come to like the music. When Michael Hutchence died, I would have expected them to find another Aussie singer and keep on keeping on, or retire (and assumed the latter), not pop in nearly a decade later as reality show hosts shilling the American audience in what, ultimately, comes off as little more than a more rocking version of American Idol.

And still, unlike A.I., I can't seem to keep myself from tuning in. While not groundbreaking, a good few of the performers are really enjoyable to listen to. Do I have my favorites? Nope. There are three that I think would best suit the band should they win (Marty Casey, Mig Ayesa and JD Fortune).

I think it could be a really interesting turn if one of the female contestants won and got to join the band, but I wouldn't want to see it. Now, I love female performers, but I don't think they'd be the right fit. It would be like Nirvana (though there really is no comparison to Nirvana) replacing Kurt Cobain with Britney Spears. It just wouldn't be right.

Check that out. I can talk about really unimportant shit just like your average twelve year-old. Rock on.

Update 9-7-5: I'm all about Marty Casey winning now.

Itchy and Job Security

Today I had to go to the cardiologist and get attached to this thing they call a halter. Basically I have electrodes attached to me again (glue is itchy) that lead in to a portable monitor I have to carry around for the next 24 hours so they can monitor my heratbeat and see if they can see anything new regarding the arythmia I had in the hospital.

Like I said, it itches.

And ina huzzah moment. Found out that my old boss in the Ag Dept. never rehired anyone as his TA while I was away last year and that my job is there waiting for me. I just have to sign some new paperwork this week. I continue to love how the job I had in the department that has nothing to do with any of my majors has always and continues to treat me like a valued employee, while the English Department continues to treat their employees to the revolving door.

It's Official: Cancer is Really F-ing Annoying

Yes, I'm fortunate to be a survivor (and really, truly, I'm very thankful), but as today's cardiologist appointment has lead to four new appointments, I'm coming to realize that I'm bound to spend the rest of my life constantly tripping to doctor's offices.

Has the universe forgotten that I both despise and distrust doctors (and I think I really do have plenty of good reasons to be that way, given my history of incompetant or neglectful docs), or is this just some form of ironic punishment for the same?

Sigh

Today I had an appointment with the pulmunologist. The appointment was for 2:40, and I didn't get to even leave the waiting room 'til 3:55. Annoying. Dr. Verma spent maybe five minutes with me total--listened to my lungs (sounds pretty good), looked over my pathology from the tumor, told me it was a carcinoid (which I already knew) and declared I now needed to see an oncologist.

Sigh.

I know the odds are in my favor with this sort of cancer, but no one wants to see an oncologist.

Don't have that appointment set up yet. Tomorrow I see the cardiologist about my arythmia and I see the surgeon for my follow-up on the 22nd.