I am triggered and overwhelmed.
I’ve been fighting a trigger from yesterday. I’m not even sure what caused it. When I see things that remind me how often in our society someone seeks to circumvent informed consent to capture, control or bleed off of someone else, it hurts, and if that is just the uncontrollable nature of the human species, am I a fool for trying to seek out a means we could advance beyond it?
Then, today, I learned about the Kenneth Walton incident in Arizona, in which a state trooper pulled his car over and came out gun pointed at Walton and his seven year old daughter. The trooper gave conflicting orders, outwardly threatened to shoot Walton (even after the presence of a child was evident to the trooper). Walton got arrested. The state trooper gave false testimony in the report. Captain Damon Cecil of the Arizona Department of Public Safety made statements that it was appropriate for trooper Villegas to have escalated the traffic stop and behave has he did. Walton was released that night without charges, also without apologies.
And now my sweetheart is cleaning her daughter’s room.
The room is a disaster area, the whirlwind-tossed lair of the Tasmanian Devil. Colored markers stains dot the shag floor and there’s stale and spoiled food everywhere. (Food is restricted to kitchen-area only, so this appears to be a violation of household protocol) There are extras of school supplies scattered about, fresh duplicates of which were recently purchased in a spendy school-prep shopping excursion.
Even an intact iPhone* case that was allegedly broken turns out to be not. The broken state of this case (an Otterbox to protect the phone from Miss Taz’ lifestyle) was the explanation given for why it wasn’t on the phone when it got dropped last month, resulting in a screen crack and an expensive repair bill.
There’s going to be a confrontation when Miss Taz returns from a camping trip tonight. Efforts have been made to arrange for this to be a careful deliberate commission with reasonable corrections and remedies.
As a fellow hoarder, my room was like Miss Taz’ at her age and I was as incorrigible and a gale-force test to my parents’ patience then. My story doesn’t get to end with but I came out fine. In fact, I really, rather did not. I still struggle with my hoarding tendencies, and if I don’t take pills daily, I literally go crazy. So my life and development are not exemplars by which to model others. Then there’s an incident around Miss Taz age in which all my favorite toys were seized to disappear forever. It remains a childhood trauma and a sore point that will drive me to enforce my rule with steel-fisted cruelty once all the world yields to my self-replicating autonomous robotic forces and its people all kneel to me in despair for their very lives.
Um, But I digress.
Sadly, Miss Taz is not in a position to be interested in hoarding-control techniques, let alone comprehend and utilize them, and I’m not going to be in any condition to engage her in an advisory or mentor capacity if it is discovered that she’s been willfully deceptive.
At the same time, I knew the whirlwinds were storming here long before I arrived, or before I chose to move. The Taz will have to slow down first before anyone could hear her over her squall, or before she’ll be able to consider reason.
* Yes, the daughter has an iPhone, much to my chagrin, not just because iPhones are expensive and insufficiently warrantied for the hands and care of Tazmanian wildlife, but also because it’s also training her to favor iOS when she’s probably going to be on an Android budget as an adult. (Maybe her Chromebook skills will be suitable when she change.) Also, blah, blah inconsistent censorship, company bias, walled garden and so on. It wasn’t my choice, but a birthday prezzie from Daddy Taz’ a year ago.
On the image: I think of Miss Taz more as Taz (that is the Tasmanian Devil, himself, rather than the She-Devil that has appeared only once or twice in the various Tune / Toon series, and then only as a foil to Taz himself. Gender is not as important to me in such comparisons. Still images of Taz himself were vetoed over this one.