Responsibility

All posts tagged Responsibility

On being a big, fat liar.

Published February 13, 2016 by mandileighbean

doughtheliar

Two weeks ago, I went to confession. The line of sinners was surprisingly long; I assume the snowstorm from the previous weekend had kept the faithful at home and away from the church, so everyone was playing catch up. That’s why I was there, at any rate. But there’s something about being in that intimate, sacred setting that always compels me to spill my guts. Maybe it’s a simple effect of being raised Catholic, a kind of Pavlovian reaction to the whole ceremony, but I like to believe it’s more than that, like it’s a sign from the universe that my faith is real and working, and that this kind of spiritual purging is healthy and necessary. Whatever the reason or motivation, when it was finally my turn to enter the confessional and the heavy, cloth curtain swung shut behind me, I dropped to my knees and told the priest everything that had been burdening my soul. I unloaded my emotional baggage, carefully and delicately removing every piece of troublesome ego and holding it up to the light to reveal all the intricacies. I think the popular nomenclature for such an event is “word vomit.” At the end, I was breathless but felt somewhat lighter. I also felt guilty and ashamed, truly humbled.

And the priest laughed. He laughed loud and long and hard.

This may seem like a harsh reaction, but please trust me when I assure you that it was completely warranted. My life, as of late, has turned into quite the melodrama. To protect the innocent I won’t go into details, but if you could me a favor and think of the most ridiculous plot line from a daytime soap opera – that’s my life. That’s how I’ve been living. To hear it out loud, to finally speak about it all, was somewhat amusing. I was on the verge of laughter myself – sometimes we laugh to keep from crying, no? So the priest was in no way a villain. His laughter subsided, and he told me I was certainly in a “sticky situation.” He promised he would pray for me.

The priest promised to pray for me. That’s how dire my situation is.

I hope this anecdote helps illustrate why I haven’t been keeping to the resolutions I made so boldly before the new year started. I’m the worst, I know, but I’m trying.

I hope you are all trying to, no matter the endeavor.

You’ll be hearing more from me soon; I promise.

lying

On clinging to the past.

Published March 4, 2013 by mandileighbean

On Monday of this past week, I found the moon.  It was fat, full, gluttonous, and bright.  I have a picture to prove it.

moon

I have another resolution for this relatively new year: to be as artistic in possible in all that I do.

I deposited my second royalty check – $23.22.  From October 29th to December 31st, I have made $95.40.  I am not, and have never been, a “numbers person.”  I am not sure if this means I am doing well, average, or poor.  All I know is that I want to keep writing, and I suppose that is the most important thing.  I did little to no writing this week, which is possibly why this blog post is so scattered and superficial.

I am convinced that in a former life, I was happily married to Ricky Ricardo.

Running in the wind is romantic and freeing.  Running in the wind and the rain is stupid.

There is a dry, red, and raw patch of skin on my hand between my thumb and pointer finger.  When I stick the cap on the opposite end of the pen, the plastic irritates the area.  I have icky winter skin.  I am over the cold, bitter weather.

I am sick of being tired.

I am envious of Winona Ryder – or at least her hair, especially when it is short.  I remember feeling similarly after seeing, “Girl, Interrupted.”  I watched “Reality Bites.”  I liked the tone of it and I do sincerely miss the 1990s somewhat.  I really am a fan of the earthy, sloppy fashion that was considered chic.  I would like to bring that style back, but am unsure if I would be able to do so single-handedly, and am equally unsure if there would even be any other willing participants; I might have no other choice than to embark on a lone wolf fashion revolution.  Either way, I am going to dress and style my hair accordingly – I am excited to buy new clothes once I lose the weight.  Manufacturers really do not make fashionable habiliments for larger people.

winona90srevival290srevival

I am mostly excited for Spring Break and vacation in Florida.  I called my Aunt Kim tonight and squared away the details.  Dad and his friend Andy fitted my car with new struts and fixed a leak that had to do with the transmission.  I am constantly making a mental list of what I want to do before leaving.  Lately, the trip has been all that I have been thinking about.  I do not mind going alone, but Mom is thinking about coming along, and that does not upset me at all.

struts

Sometimes, when I wash my face, I make the water too hot and steam rises up from the sink basin in the bathroom, and the water burns my hands, and opens my pores so wide that they sizzle.  Once I was worried because for a brief moment, I could not get the cold tap to turn.  Eventually I did, and it made me think of that scene from “My Cousin Vinny” when Marissa Tomei and Joe Pesci are ironically analyzing the dripping faucet that is off-screen as litigators would in court.  Then I wonder how a casting director could match Pesci with Tomei (or vice versa).  I worry that such wondering makes me shallow.  Am I shallow?  Am I a bad person?

What if I do not find romance after my teeth are straightened and after I’ve lost the weight?  Will I have to conclude the defect is not my physical appearance, but in my personality, my very being?

I am going to take up painting this summer.

I need to write.

My last baby tooth, which never fell out, was pulled on the last day of February.  So long, Little Mandi.  The very last tangible remnant of my childhood was violently yanked from me.  It was for the best – it was causing an infection and discoloration – but I was sad to see it go.  I am reluctant to grow up and relinquish my sometimes irrational passions, and I am unwilling compromise between responsibility and desire; I don’t wanna.  But then again, I am getting braces.  Maybe it all works out and I will never have to escape my adolescence.

babytooth

The way to blast blubber this week was to give up extreme thinking.  I set a realistic goal of losing two pounds, and I lost 1.8 pounds; just two ounces shy.  I have lost 18 pounds total since beginning dieting and exercising and I am getting closer to my goal.  Chipping away little by little is okay; I am seeing results without being perfect or extreme, and that is both a very important and difficult lesson to learn.

On steak and eggs.

Published October 15, 2012 by mandileighbean

The other day, when I was running, I noticed the road kill had been removed and had been removed quite thoroughly.  Macabre as it may be, I looked intently at the previously gory scene for any kind of remnants, for any kind of tangible proof that the dead possum had been there in the first place.  There was no evidence – the pavement was stained, no organs had been absent-mindedly neglected, and there was absolutely nothing disturbed or out of place.  Admittedly, I was relieved that my eyes did not take in anything that would upset my stomach, but I was also somewhat saddened.  That poor creature had been wiped from existence.  It was no longer living and as far as I know, I am the only who knows and cares enough to write about it.  I understand that the possum was not a sentient being and was not a pet and that to some factions of thought its death is not a tragedy but a mere continuation of the pattern of existence we are all traveling along.  I can understand, acknowledge, and accept all of that and still be upset because I worry and fear that the same fate belongs to some human beings, some that I may even know.  I have already discussed how a wasted life is my greatest fear.

“Looper,” the new science fiction film starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Bruce Willis tackles that same theme, in a manner of speaking.  It is about time travel and while that may set off some alarms, the story does not become mired down in hypotheticals and impossibilities and trivial aspects.  Rather, the story focuses on the passage of time as humans grow and age and learn and live.  Time spent on Earth means different things to different people and it even means different things to the same person at different times.  It also reviews and challenges the cyclical nature of time and goes so far as to hint, in my always humble opinion, that it is our responsibility to be cognizant of this cycle, and to sacrifice our own cycle of time to break a cycle in which a neighbor is suffering.  “Looper” was a remarkable film and without a doubt, it is a new favorite.

In the movie, both male leads order steak and eggs for breakfast at a diner.  I did the same today.  Yes, I ordered steak and eggs because I saw it in a movie once.  The eggs and hash browns and toast and coffee were great; the steak was okay.  It wasn’t the best cut as it was very fatty, so I’m going to try the order again at a different diner.  The diner experience was not ruined, however.  I talked with an older man about football and his father’s military service.  I thanked a table of enlisted men for their service.  I chatted with an elderly couple about the economy, employment and the weather.  When the female half of the couple observed me hunched over many sheets of lined paper with a pen clutched in my hand, she correctly assumed that I was an English teacher with papers to grade.  However, I was not grading papers; I was working – or trying to work – on my second novel.  Why didn’t I tell her that?  Why didn’t I explain that I was a young, up and coming author?  Why did I falter?

Maybe it’s because I do not have a physical copy of the book and as such, my dream has not truly been realized.  Maybe I’m afraid that if I say it out loud, it won’t come true because it is still only a wish, a desperate fantasy, a silly girl’s imagination running away.

Who knows?

On urine-stained keys.

Published July 13, 2012 by mandileighbean

Despite Murphy’s Law almost taking effect, I think the second interview today went well.  This morning, I was printing out 16 pictures for my mock lesson – two copies each of eight pictures dealing with The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald in some aspect.  Although I love my printer and think it’s completely awesome that is has the ability to print photo-quality pictures, the process is incredibly time consuming.  I only had time to print twelve and my lesson plan before I rushed out the door.

I stopped at Dunkin Donuts before I hit the parkway for an iced French Vanilla coffee, but it was disgusting so I didn’t finish it.  I have no one to blame but myself; I still don’t know how to properly order coffee.  I’d much rather just make it myself.  Because it was iced and because it was hot outside and because my car does not have air conditioning, the plastic cup condensated severely, to the point where it left a puddle in the cup holder.  It was a very small puddle, but still a force to be reckoned with apparently, because I set my iPod in the cup holder during my mock lesson and it now has water damage.  It’s stuck in the “locked” position and won’t stop playing.  I hope it’ll dry out and right itself.

I was about 30 minutes into my drive when I realized I still had Jimmy’s carseat in the back of my truck from yesterday.  Spank me hard; Mom totally needed it to take Jimmy to the store with her today because she needed to buy supplies for Mikey since he is going to Boy Scout Summer Camp. I wasn’t going to get home until the afternoon, so she went anyway, strapping Jimmy into the seatbelt and praying she didn’t get a ticket.  Thankfully, everything turned out just fine.

Before I got to the high school, I stopped at a Walgreen’s nearby to use the restroom.  I wasn’t buying anything, so the only item I brought in with me was my car key, which is a single key.  It used to be on a little key chain, but I took it off and I cannot remember why.  Anyway, I didn’t have any pockets in my dress and didn’t have my purse with me, so while I was gathering toilet paper, I put the key in my mouth for safe keeping.  I didn’t swallow it or anything, but left it dangling precariously between my lips so that it fell into the toilet.  I’m not proud of the fact that I retrieved my one and only car key from a public toilet, but it needed to be done.

When I got to the interview, everything went surprisingly well.  The woman said my lesson went very, very well.  She wanted me to meet with the principal but he was in Trenton, so I’m journeying back tomorrow.  To make it even more worthwhile, I’m going to meet Raina for lunch.

She also asked for a writing sample.  I had two choices: a prompt from the AP test, or writing about a time I dealt with a difficult and/or challenging student.  I haven’t (knock on wood) had a truly difficult and/or challenging student, so I went to with the prompt from the AP test.  You had to pick a novel from the list and discuss and analyze how symbolism is used in the novel.  You also had to come up with a catchy title.  I saw Invisible Man and thought of Ralph Ellison’s novel.  I also remembered the light bulbs in his basement apartment.  I thought they symbolized his desire to be noticed and in the spotlight, his desire to be separate from his race and seen as a human being rather than be negelected for being a black man, and that fact that the electricity was stolen showed his bitterness and anger turned into a form of rebellion.  Wikipedia says the symbolism is that the light is the truth.  Ooops.  It has also dawned on me that the novel could have been The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells.  Damnit.

And it isn’t even Friday the 13th. Wow.

The prompt for today has three parts to it, so I’m going to break it down and make it last over three days. Enjoy!

PROMPT: “You accidentally overhear a conversation between two people you’ve never met. The topic of the conversation shocks and dismays you. Write about these conversations and describe how you respond to the content:

  • 1. A conversation between two stockbrokers
  • 2. A conversation between a priest and a member of his parish
  • 3. A conversation between a woman and the man with whom she’s been cheating on her husband

PIECE (#1): I was sitting at the local Starbucks minding my own business, just trying to fit in and be trendy – reading a copy of The New York Times and sipping on an iced coffee.  I was perusing the Arts and Literature section, hoping some beautiful and brilliant stranger would notice and comment, and then whisk me off my feet with wonderful conversation.  As that had yet to happen, I was susceptible to distractions and more often than not, the word “rape” serves as a ginormous distraction.  The word had been uttered in a painful-sounding whisper emitted from a pale and trembling young man.  He was sweaty and shaky, but wearing a suit.  The contradiction was intriguing, and as discreetly as possible, I began to listen to the unfolding discussion.

“I don’t know, Pete,” the shaky man gulped.  “I think we should tell someone about it.  I saw her, man.  She looked rough; like she’d been in the ring for ten rounds.  That’s not right.”  At the end of his speaking, he looked down at his trembling hands.

“Are you seriously thinking about going to the cops?” Pete asked, clearly shocked and appalled at the mere idea of involving the proper authorities in whatever mess they were talking about.  “What will happen to us, Tom?  What about our careers?  What about our futures?  If we blow the whistle, every accounting firm in the city will blacklist us as squealers and tattletales.  We didn’t rape anyone, so why should we be punished?”

My eyes were wide behind my paper.  There had been a rape?  These two knew about it, and hadn’t done anything about it?

Tom looked up with a pained expression, moving closer to Pete and dropping his voice even lower.  “What about her, Pete?  What about the girl?”

“What about her?” Pete shot back.  “She can go to the authorities.  It’s not our affair to be involved in.  All we did was attend a party, all right?”

Tears welled in Tom’s eyes.  “What if she comes to us for help?  What if she needs us to be witnesses and to speak up?  What would you say, Pete?”  Despite the fact that Tom was clearly depressed and unsure of himself, his question was more challenging than it was rhetorical.

It was now Pete’s turn to drop his gaze.  He leaned back in his chair, and his cheeks reddened with shame.  He spoke through gritted teeth with a hand almost covering his mouth.  “I’m not going to say anything, Tom.  You won’t either, if you know what’s good for you.”

I had heard enough.  Slowly, I stood.  I folded my paper neatly and placed it on the tabletop, beside my unfinished coffee.  I turned to my left and walked just a few paces until I was standing in front of Pete.  I pulled my hand back and slapped the bastard as hard as I could across the face.  Tom jumped to his feet, surprised but not knowing what to do.  I leaned forward, nearly spitting in Pete’s face and said, “You’re a monster.”

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