Depressing, and No More Tag

That's just depressing.

I had the weirdest dream. I dreamt my mother, for some weird reason, bought me a flight to Paris. It was going to be 10 hours. She made a point of telling me that it was a cheap, crowded flight with only one television screen.

It's depressing enough to dream you're in Paris and then wake up to a Wet Coast day, but it's more depressing when you're having a great conversation with your mother and then you wake up and remember all over again that she's dead and you're never having another conversation.

Shitty way to start a day, that's for goddamned sure. And I don't want to be up, I want to sleep. And I don't want to get wet, but I have to take my scooter to work today since I have a 6pm appointment back in my hood.

On the upside, I taped last night's Weeds, so I'll watch that while I have coffee and breakfast -- which I have enough time to make eggs for.

But methinks I'll be keeping largely to myself today. It's probably a good thing to have such a depressing dream on the night before I talk to my shrink (which is my 6pm appointment).

Blah. I miss my mom sometimes, and this is one of those times. I've never had anyone else present themselves in my life that I could talk to as easily as I talked to her. It's been seven years so the painful days don't come 'round very much anymore, but they still do make appearances. I'll shake this soon, but for now. Sigh.

***

I started this last night, so here you go:

I don't know about you, but I know I feel safer tonight.

A school in South Boston has banned tag. Yes. Tag. You're it. No you're not. Not ever again, you poor little fucking Southpaws.

Apparently some kids already "feel safer." Yeah, they're fucking pussies, that's why they feel safer. What the hell's wrong with kids falling and getting boo-boos? All these preventative laws so that people/places don't get sued are REALLY cramping our styles, people.

When I was a kid, we used teeter-totters, trampolines, merry-go-rounds, and more. We got hurt. We got bruises and cuts and more. We threw rocks. We had slingshots and wobbly boxes nailed onto our too-small skateboards. We careened down the stupidest of hills with only walls and trees as breaks. Yet, here we are.

We were injured and we grew up with the reality check that, well, sometimes you get hurt. Sometimes you lose. And you suck it the fuck up and you take it like a man -- or like a kid. 'cos that's how it works.

I've actually almost sued someone once, so I'm part of the litigious framework that makes all this precaution-taking almost sensible. They had all-wood steps that were slimy and slippery, and on a frosty day, I took a spill and landed on my hand, which needed surgery and has never been the same since. I got a whopping $500 from the owners of the place and they put wire mesh over the steps so they've never been slippy since. Sometimes, suits make necessary change happen.

Most of the time, though, it spoils everyone's fun. I mean, it's fucking TAG! Shit happens! Stupid fucking school. Watch. Others will follow. Next thing you know, kids are gonna be sitting around reading fucking bedtime stories and never doing anything of interest. They'll make models or play Legos and they'll all be 800 fucking pounds 'cos no one wants to get hurt.

There's a great way to raise your kids: Avoid pain. Yeah. Never get into relationships, never fall in love, never climb a mountain, never do anything that will ever, ever result in you injuring your fragile little self. C'mon, have a sack. Ante up. Live life. I have scars of every variety -- mental, psychic, physical -- and yet I keep putting my chips on the table.

We're raising a nation of cowards, and it's just getting worse and worse. As GayBoy says, "Might as well wrap the kids in bubblewrap."