tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42038224759379699142024-03-13T14:42:04.692-07:00My MuseKat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.comBlogger226125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-66674153171764708552022-06-15T10:11:00.002-07:002022-06-16T10:36:15.765-07:00loppersThe cabin in the woods had a candle burning in the window. <div><br></div><div>It was late, I'm not really sure of the time. I had been driving for hours and had started seeing the lopers. I've called them that for years. I've done a lot of cross country driving, so I know when I'm tired I start seeing them. </div><div><br></div><div>They are dark shadowy shapes, black in color, that look almost human, but with elongated features. They lope beside the roadways at night. </div><div>Every once in awhile, they sort of dart in front of your vehicle, almost as if to say, wake up. This happens when you are becoming transfixed by the passing lines in the road. They are creepy, scary, and real. </div><div><br></div><div>On this particular night, I pulled over when one darted in front of me. I sat there, breathing hard, chills running down every inch of my body. Usually I keep driving, but on this particular night I pulled off to the side of the road. I needed fresh air to wake me up. I still had several hours to go. </div><div><br></div><div>As I got out of my car, I could see a light through the trees. Not entirely sure why, but I followed it. I came to a cabin and there was a candle burning in the window. I stood there, in the shadows, silently observing. Not seeing anything, I crept closer. The window was old glass, with discoloration from years of candles, and weather. It was difficult to see in. As I peered into the window, I could see the outlines of the loppers. I stopped breathing. I had goosebumps on my arms, and I felt frozen in place. </div><div><br></div><div>I regained my senses and slowly backed away. Heading back towards my car I could feel them getting closer to me. Feeling like I was moving in slow motion, I hurried to my car, fumbling to get the doors locked, and the car started. I drove away almost in a panic, wide awake now. </div><div><br></div><div>These loppers would be on mountain passes and long stretches of winding roads. Always in lonely desolate places, made lonelier at night. Driving alone, made the nights a place of nightmares, every horror movie watched came alive in my imagination. </div><div><br></div><div>I headed down the pass to a café at the bottom for some early morning coffee. As I sat at the counter, and ordered, a lone trucker looked over at me. He said, "You see them". A statement, not a question. I knew he was talking about the shadows I called loppers. He then said, "they are the souls of the people who die on the roads, and they gather when they know someone is going to die". "They stay in abandoned cabins, and wait for the people who wreck". I was frozen again. People I had met over the years had talked about the shadows, but none of them had ever given me a feeling of foreboding like this lone man. </div><div><br></div><div>I gave a nervous chuckle and looked away. He stood up then and started to approach me. As he slide past me, he whispered, "don't let them touch you". He walked out, and I sat and finished my coffee. The old trucker was creepy and I wondered how he knew that I saw these things I called the loppers. </div><div><br></div><div>I woke up with a jolt to see I had run off the road. I groggily took inventory, and found I was in one piece. My car not so much, but drivable. As I pulled onto the road, I glanced back and I could see the glimmer of a candle burning through the trees, and the shadowy figures lopping off into the woods. </div><div><br></div><div>I realized then, the loppers are real. I've talked to people over the years since my encounter in the woods, people who do long distance driving. They've all seen them, at night, usually after midnight, and always on mountain roads, and long lonely stretches. </div><div><br></div>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-7647513593854917142019-08-19T14:54:00.000-07:002019-08-19T14:54:00.446-07:00The Past; letting go <a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T1qiY6aGhho/XVsaWcgZoZI/AAAAAAAAJKY/Zn-84Fc0Gl07o_eEHffAejeQXYnf5SoFgCLcBGAs/s1600/67362825_10220157114858961_2808408990923358208_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T1qiY6aGhho/XVsaWcgZoZI/AAAAAAAAJKY/Zn-84Fc0Gl07o_eEHffAejeQXYnf5SoFgCLcBGAs/s320/67362825_10220157114858961_2808408990923358208_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Caveat: I have not been married to Antony's father since 1997. We have never been on great terms, but I tried to keep most of that from my son. His father, on the other hand, did not. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>My Son's father passed away almost a month ago now. I actually wrote a blog on him and his friends a little over a month ago. On Friday, my son and I went through his things. Mostly it was his clothing. Mohamed had a clothing and shoe fetish. He loved high-end expensive clothing, and about 3 of the 5 boxes we went through still had tags on them. I don't know how I feel about this since he died penny less and Antony has to come up with the money for funeral expense. (I've started a gofundme for that. <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/assistance-for-my-son039s-father-passing">https://www.gofundme.com/f/assistance-for-my-son039s-father-passing</a> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>To clarify, A headstone. Which Mohamed's son deserves to have for him. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Back to his effects. He also had lot's of paperwork, but most from the past. Our divorce papers, our court papers, allegations, statements, filings, etc.... My son just turned 24 on the 9th of August. If you've followed my writing, you've read about him and how much I have tried through the years to protect him. The papers should have long been thrown away or burned. It was history. I don't know if my son will read them, or if he does, what he'll think of them, but I am leaving that up to him. He can decide what to throw and what he keeps.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Mohamed never lived in the now. He was always chasing the money, and never appreciated the actual journey. The lessons he could have learned from it or should have learned from it, he did not. The purpose. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Everything was status, his clothes, his cars, where he lived. His son.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I look back at all of it, and I'm sad, that he lived that way. Sad for him, sad for my son. There were good memories before Antony was born, and some after. Mostly though, there was strife. Mohamed passed in a country that was not his, with no friends or family. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>We have memories, photos, stories, but Mohamed is no longer with us. I hope in where ever he is, he has finally found peace.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i> ارقد في سلام</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-42207298872455380632019-07-07T10:08:00.000-07:002019-07-07T10:08:41.213-07:00Humanity is dying I watched a T.V. Special on King 5, titled Seattle's Dying. Found here <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpAi70WWBlw">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpAi70WWBlw</a><br />
<br />
In it, the commentator, asks the question, "What if Seattle is dying and we don't even know it?" Well, we do know it or the special would not have been done. I work in Seattle every day and see this and more. We are too damn liberal.<br />
<br />
I hear about it from the people who come into my store. I see drugs and crime on a daily basis. What I don't see is something being done about it. Again, we have discussions, we run specials, we have programs and money set aside to help, yet NOTHING is changing.<br />
<br />
Why? I can tell you what I see and hear. Example: A shoplifter walks out of the store with 100.00's of dollars worth of goods. Are the police called? No, because they do nothing. Are not allowed to do anything. The city council voted to call these crimes, crimes of poverty. We stand and watch. Our policy is to not stop, not confront. The city policy is to allow it. Too much paperwork for the courts.<br />
<br />
Are the city and the corporations afraid of lawsuits? This is what I hear. Lawsuits from the thieves. The druggies. Employees can lose their jobs. When did crime become OK, and not stopping it becomes wrong?<br />
<br />
The attitude of the people is anger, disbelief. I see people shake their heads in wonder but I see no one doing anything about it. It reminds me of talking to someone who does not vote. The belief is, why should they. One vote won't make a difference. This way of thinking is inherently wrong. Nothing is ever accomplished through in-action.<br />
<br />
You listen to the police in this video, their hands are tied. They don't feel the honor they felt when 1st becoming a police officer. They are given kits to take to the people on the streets. They coddle the junkies, doing drugs that are illegal. Did you know there are still people in jail for marijuana offenses from the '60s and '70s? Yet, you walk by almost any street corner, in downtown Seattle, any park, or underpass, and people are shooting up. It's a liability to the city to put someone in jail while they are high.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
There was a second video done, on skid row in California. 53,000 people homeless are living there. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9D9pZEjSxXQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9D9pZEjSxXQ</a><br />
<br />
This is not just happening in Seattle. This is happening all over our country. It should not be. It should not just be being talked about. It should not be just being filmed. Something should be being done about it.<br />
<br />
Humanity is dying. People say they care but it is glaringly obvious that they do not. Or this would change.Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-40808933379251149692019-06-23T18:00:00.000-07:002019-06-23T18:00:10.947-07:00JohnWe were talking about you the other day. Jen and I.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QsDhpzhBZkw/XRAgQ4JaC9I/AAAAAAAAJHQ/31tG8DUcSd0ySs1xGkQ43BwUrtpA1uKBwCLcBGAs/s1600/19396981_10213691900272637_972524864617161853_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QsDhpzhBZkw/XRAgQ4JaC9I/AAAAAAAAJHQ/31tG8DUcSd0ySs1xGkQ43BwUrtpA1uKBwCLcBGAs/s320/19396981_10213691900272637_972524864617161853_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sharon and John in front of the School in Entebbe Uganda<br />One of my last photos of him before he passed. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I can't really remember the 1st time you walked into the club. I know you were in between jobs at Evergreen Helicopter. Jen hired you to bar back.<br />
<br />
We became instant friends. You had that effect on people. No matter who you met. You spoke Arabic and started teaching me. We spent all our time together, and we danced. To any band that played. You tended to have crushes on the female leads, and me, the bass players. I don't know why, maybe because they were tall and lanky and so was I.<br />
<br />
We followed the bands that we liked. One, all the way to California and back. Most of our friends were in the music scene. When you taught me to dance, it was swing. Salsa, Pasa doable, and ballroom dance. Every week we were out. You stayed with my parent's and helped dad with cutting and stacking wood. You would help mom around the house too.<br />
<br />
Jen and I were laughing about when you went back to the Middle East. I believe it was in the late '90s when you went back. You called me because you had gotten engaged. You told me about Mahar, the Muslim engagement period and that you needed to come up with cow's, and goats and a house for her. Plus 5000.00 for her household. You told me you didn't think that the marriage was going to happen because you did not have the money for the goats. Thinking about this now, Jen and I laughed and laughed. Goats, of all things. Like there weren't a million of them over there.<br />
<br />
In the Early 2000s, you came back to the states and moved to Hammond Louisiana. My understanding was you bought a house and property down there and were attending Tulane University. From there, you went to Entebbe Uganda. You also bought property there, while you were helping build a school for girls.<br />
<br />
We had phone calls often, but the last one was in April of 2012. I was with mom and dad, right before she passed. You spoke to mom on the phone and she asked if you had stacked the wood. You told her yes, you had and to stay warm, and you would see her soon. I did not know how prophetic that statement was.<br />
<br />
You didn't tell me you were sick. I had no idea until your brother called me in June. I knew when I picked up the phone. Before he said a word, I knew you were gone. 7 years ago today, you left us. We all miss you. I'll be seeing Karen on Friday night. Rail is playing. She's bringing her daughter Samantha, who's as gorgeous as she is. Alex is doing sound for them. You never got to meet them, but they love music as much as you and I did.<br />
<br />
I see Jen all the time. She has cancer but does pretty good. She and Jim are still together after all these years. 43 years now according to Jen. I can hear you laughing when they fight. I can see your impish smile when she and I are up to our usual antics all these years later.<br />
<br />
I wish you were still here. You'd be proud of your brother and sister and niece. I remember you going to see her play with the Philharmonic Symphony. My son plays now too and has a band. You are missing so much, and so many circles that we are still in. And Antony, my Egyptian child. He's not a child anymore John. He's grown, and he dances, and he works for Microsoft. You'd be so proud of him.<br />
<br />
I found some of the letters the other day. The ones from Tehran, and the Ivory Coast. You had quite an adventurous life. You lived it to the fullest. God, I miss you. I live with Cyrene again too. I remember our trip to California and staying at your tiny apartment in Oxnard. I wanted to stay on the sailboat, but Cyrene would not. She was so funny about things. There was a storm rolling in, but I know we would have been fine. I have pictures from that trip somewhere. I'll have to dig them out and post them here.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'll let you go now. Just know I love and miss you. Wish you were here.<br />
<br />Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-52019856270755737252019-06-23T14:39:00.001-07:002019-06-23T14:39:34.938-07:001987<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t7xZ0VUQu9I/XQ_w0IOlbtI/AAAAAAAAJHE/NbVnH-jpQ24z0NeJYQeGTvmfMnWbEdASACLcBGAs/s1600/44467_10201147270184725_979720409_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="960" height="276" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t7xZ0VUQu9I/XQ_w0IOlbtI/AAAAAAAAJHE/NbVnH-jpQ24z0NeJYQeGTvmfMnWbEdASACLcBGAs/s400/44467_10201147270184725_979720409_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 of my roommates from the house on 45th, and some of the band members<br />from Whiskey FIx that lived with me. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In 1987 I was living in the C.D. in Seattle. Still working at the Riviera in Lynnwood, and also at a little Greek restaurant behind the courthouse on Yesler.<br />
<br />
I was so naive. I Lived on 18th with two Filipino roommates Naomi, David, and my 2-year-old daughter. I had Cripps at one end of my street, and Bloods on the other. I honestly never paid attention to this, until a friend from college pointed it out to me.<br />
<br />
I was walking to work on Yesler one day, and my buddy who I went to college with was driving a cab. He passed by me and turned around to pick me up. He had no idea I was living down there, and so our conversation went like this.<br />
<br />
Him: hey, what are you doing down here, walking around.<br />
Me: I just live over on 18th, I walk to work every day.<br />
Him: You have got to be kidding me<br />
Me: no, why?<br />
Him: you realize this is the C.D.<br />
Me: yea, so?<br />
Him: It's dangerous in this area.<br />
Me: I've never had any problems.<br />
<br />
RIght about when I said that, he came to a stop at a light. Two Seattle police officer came running up from behind the cab, yelling stop. I look around, and here's this African American guy, booking it, and slides over the hood of our car and keeps going. The police had guns drawn.<br />
<br />
My buddy looks at me and says See? As if to say, I told you we are in a dangerous area. I started thinking about moving from then forward.<br />
<br />
I did eventually end up moving. To a house in Sunnyside. A block off 45th. I rented a 5 bedroom home with 3 other girls, and 2 guys. All in bands. We had a soundproof studio in the basement. A few Seattle musicians practiced there, including Mike Starr and Jerry Cantrell, from Alice n Chains prior to being signed.<br />
<br />
This was a start to another chapter in my young life.<br />
More later~<br />
peace~Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-47772623026354380192019-06-23T14:28:00.001-07:002019-06-23T14:28:24.605-07:00I still think about him <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4nKY-u0KQL0/XQ_uuTPM_qI/AAAAAAAAJG4/LP82AmbMMGUXd8HDq0OKNH0iuNwOmDtOgCLcBGAs/s1600/20245896_10213990943908541_1276638849837915035_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="800" height="265" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4nKY-u0KQL0/XQ_uuTPM_qI/AAAAAAAAJG4/LP82AmbMMGUXd8HDq0OKNH0iuNwOmDtOgCLcBGAs/s400/20245896_10213990943908541_1276638849837915035_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">friends....or lovers </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I think about him almost every day. Odd how that is. It's random. I'll be going along good and then he pops into my mind. I will wonder at what part of the day he is in, whether he is working, or out with his girls. I'll wonder how his meetings are going, or if he's just at home on the deck relaxing.<br />
<br />
When I'm driving to work, I wonder if we are on the same highway at the same time. When I come in late from my job, I get to my exit and think, he is one more exit up. I wonder if he's awake, because I know he has been before, we've been on the phone that late. He works days, I work nights.<br />
<br />
Who knows how these things work. I've been friends with him for a long time on social media. Even though we never really interacted before this year. He said he was always curious about me too, and wonder if he thinks of me at random times. I've always been curious about him. Attracted to his looks. Now his mind. He's sweet, caring. I can tell in how he talks. He's a good dad, I see that in what he posts.<br />
<br />
I think about my life back to 2001. When I had my diagnosis. My feelings about life changed in those moments, and so I try to let people know what they mean to me. Even though I'm not really good at it. He means something to me. Maybe I'm not ready to identify my feelings or explore that too deeply yet, but he does mean something. *shrugs* *laughs* Silly me.<br />
<br />
I wonder if I'm destined to be on my own from here on out. Was my marriage and subsequent divorce, the end of a meaningful relationship for me? Has the world changed so much that the elusive "happily ever after" no longer exists? I'm good on my own. I can do what I want when I want, but there are so many times that I think, it would be nice to share this with someone. What this is is, I've no idea. *ha* but maybe this could be found together.<br />
<br />
I know I shouldn't think about him in that way. We are friends, and having friends, long term is always good. <br />
He's with someone, but for some reason, I feel like there is some hope here. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I can see the pattern's that he cannot, or maybe because I know we have a connection. I know we are friends, but wonder if somewhere down the line if there might be more. Maybe, maybe not. Time will tell. But I think about him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-90609480821820861192019-06-09T09:35:00.002-07:002019-06-09T09:35:51.451-07:00California or bust <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KIuBqt8dbW8/XP01H-tyjqI/AAAAAAAAI08/Jf2vwjGBTQEIRoFK_02E2iROl7dKp4W2ACLcBGAs/s1600/49187762_10218450862963730_8109984898753757184_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KIuBqt8dbW8/XP01H-tyjqI/AAAAAAAAI08/Jf2vwjGBTQEIRoFK_02E2iROl7dKp4W2ACLcBGAs/s320/49187762_10218450862963730_8109984898753757184_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve Mumford and myself New Years 1987<br />Riviera in Lynnwood </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In 1987 I stopped working for Jim and Jen and went to work at the Riviera in Lynnwood. Steve Mumford owned the bar at the time. Not the building, Allen Hemmat owned it and Steve was leasing, with a suicide clause in his contract.<br />
<br />
Steven went to school with Dan, Jennifer's brother, and I had met him at Casbah, another club that Allen owned. He had rescued me from my daughter's dad causing a public scene, and we had left and gone up the road to Jimmy Z's.<br />
<br />
When I went to work for Steve, I was running the security team at the club, plus doing his books. Steve and I would constantly fight. He would fire me at least once a week, and then call the next day to beg me to come back. When I was doing books before we would open, Rick, the bartender would usually call back to the office to check on us because he could hear us bickering. It was a constant joke for him to ask if I needed the police or an ambulance. Steven was in love with me, but it was not reciprocated. He was a friend, and I had fun with him, but he was an alcoholic. I wanted no part in that.<br />
<br />
We roomed together in Mukilteo and were always out in his limo when we were not working. I was driving a 73 gremlin at the time, and Francis, another friend, (who was in love with me, feelings not returned) had just bought an 85 Camaro with T-tops. My gremlin broke down one night, so Francis took it, while I took the Camaro. One night at the house, after work, Steven had a party. We had a full bar downstairs and a hot-tub. He had brought a bunch of chic's over and cranked the music. I was trying to sleep. I got pissed, and we had a huge fight about him and the girls. He threw it in my face again that I would not go out with him because he was fat (he was, but not the reason) and that he would have girls over anytime he wanted. I screamed at him that it was not because he was fat that it was because he was an alcoholic, and proceeded to grab every bottle in the bar and dump it. He was on the phone with Jennifer, crying to her about what I was doing and why would I not date him.<br />
<br />
The next day at the bar, he, of course, fired me again. I was running with Cyrene by then, and I ended up moving in with her at Nanny's house. We decided that we were going to California, on 300.00 and a gas card. Once we got there, we decided we were staying. A story for another time.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I had Steve calling me where we were staying and begging me to come back, and I was writing Jennifer on a weekly basis to tell her of our adventures.<br />
<br />
By the end of Summer of 87 we were back, out of money and facing reality again. Back to work.Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-9096858019660154262019-06-05T10:04:00.000-07:002019-06-05T10:04:11.036-07:00You can't make this shit up<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dKqUszQCvBE/XPf1mez59QI/AAAAAAAAI0Y/3Whb0AFr1k0vPB39bQpFzfbIf8fOfVr6ACLcBGAs/s1600/27654867_615627952118781_1596515392028575954_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dKqUszQCvBE/XPf1mez59QI/AAAAAAAAI0Y/3Whb0AFr1k0vPB39bQpFzfbIf8fOfVr6ACLcBGAs/s320/27654867_615627952118781_1596515392028575954_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mohamed Ahmed<br />Antony's dad </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So basically, this is pretty much my entire adult life. If you've followed my blog, you'll understand.<br />
<br />
On Friday, I was out with my best friend for a while. After she left, I had stopped at the store on my way home. I ran into two people from my past. They were friends of my ex-husband Mohamed, and also of my best friend Jen, whom I had just left.<br />
<br />
I didn't recognize them at 1st, and one kept asking if I remembered him. I finally realized it was Tarek, and Alat his brother. They asked me if I was still in touch with Jim and Jen. Of course, I said no, I had not seen them in years. The reason for this is, anyone who knows or is close to Arab men know they love drama, as much as they deny it, and fish for information. At least it's always been that way when it comes to Jen and I. They never wanted us to hang out. So they were always making stuff up to cause problems for us.<br />
<br />
They then proceed to tell me, they think something bad has happened to Jen. My response was, oh no, I've not heard a thing. (all this as I'm in text with her) Yes, they say, we think she died. (I'm dying laughing inside during this conversation)<br />
<br />
Then they ask me about Antony, my son, asking how is he, they have not seen him since he was 7. Which I know is not true, since they were at the hospital a few years back with him when his dad had a stroke. I did show them a current photo, and one of his dance clips. Anyway, then they say, they think Mohamed died. I just look at them. (still laughing) and I say, no, I think Antony would have told me. <br />
As I start to move away from them, I say it was good seeing you and goodbye.<br />
<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I was in message with my son. Antony. Here is our conversation verbatim.<br />
<br />
Me: By the way, how's your dad?<br />
<br />
Antony: He's OK I guess.....<br />
<br />
Me: I ran into two of his old friends on Friday. They said he's dead.<br />
<br />
Antony: .........<br />
<br />
1/2 hour later<br />
Antony: He's fine mom...lol...<br />
<br />
Me: lol.. OK. Just checking. You'd tell me, right?<br />
<br />
Antony. Yea.<br />
<br />
Me: OK. Love you<br />
<br />
Antony: Love you too<br />
<br />
You just can't make this shit up.<br />
<br />
For years, the men in mine and Jen's life have always tried keeping us apart<br />
or tried causing problems with us. For years, we just laugh about it. It's so strange. They are all old now, and still playing games like it was 30 years ago.<br />
<br />
More to come on Jen and I.<br />
<br />
<br />Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-50066080183070151942019-06-04T12:24:00.001-07:002019-06-04T13:09:33.323-07:00My best friend <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nX6y7tytvXU/XPa-xoBDWCI/AAAAAAAAI0M/R_c54TByxV0aca7C5gMY3eqjFbEkPJnPACLcBGAs/s1600/229465_1041664682726_9657_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nX6y7tytvXU/XPa-xoBDWCI/AAAAAAAAI0M/R_c54TByxV0aca7C5gMY3eqjFbEkPJnPACLcBGAs/s400/229465_1041664682726_9657_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">c<a href="https://www.heraldnet.com/news/after-25-years-last-call-at-everetts-jimmy-zs/">https://www.heraldnet.com/news/after-25-years-last-call-at-everetts-jimmy-zs/</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Talking about my best friend.<br />
<br />
I was asked to write an obituary for her. She asked me. Before I do that, I want to put our histories down.<br />
<br />
The interesting thing about the link I posted under mine and Jen's photo is neither one of us know who the 31-year-old security guy is. In fact, she pulled me for security that last night they were in business and I found both security guys in the back hall smoking weed.<br />
<br />
The news reporter did a poor job on the history of this place. Jennifer was manager and bartender from 1985 until closing. They should have spoken to her, and other regulars that were there since it was Panama's and Jimmy was just the cook.<br />
<br />
A few years back, she was diagnosed with colon cancer. We know this will come back eventually.<br />
Jen and I have been best friends going on 34 years. She was also my 1st boss ever.<br />
<br />
Back in 1986, I went to work for Jimmy Z. I started as a cocktail waitress. On the day of my interview, I was later told that there was an argument between Jen and another bartender, that I would not be hired. Jen said I would not be, and Karleen said I would be. The story on that was because the owner, Jimmy supposedly liked blondes.<br />
<br />
I was, hired, and blonde and Jen hated me. One of the guys who worked in the restaurant told me to stay away from her because she was a snake. I took this as a challenge, as I do everything in my life when I am told no, or stay away. I disregard.<br />
<br />
Jen was hard to get to know, but I did it. I'm pretty good at reading people, and she was easy. We became friends within 6 months of me working for her. The night I stopped cocktailing and became her bouncer, was the beginning of our long friendship.<br />
<br />
By the late 80's I had worked for other clubs and moved around a bit, but Jen and I went out at least once a week. We didn't drink every time, but when we did, you knew it. Jim would send us to other clubs to see how full they were, or what bands were playing, and expect us to report back to him. Sometimes we did, and sometimes, we were too tipsy to care. Jim and Jen had been together for about 4years by then although it was not public knowledge.<br />
<br />
When Jen and I would get drinking, it was alway's Youkon on the rocks. We would start at the club and then hit between 3 and 5 nightclubs through the night. We also had our secret places. Like Jacks, or the bowling alley bar. She drove a little pulsar with T-tops. We would either take her car if I was drinking more, or my car if she was drinking more. Invariably it did not matter though since neither one of us should have been driving. Someone one was looking out for us because we never once got pulled over or in a wreck.<br />
<br />
I remember my 21st birthday. Jen and Kar were close, and Jen and I were close, and then Lori and Kar were close. Lori and I were not. Anyway, the 4 of us went to the bowling alley to drink. We took the tops of Jen's car and piled in. This was in February. We were 3 sheets to the wind. All 4 of us. I remember getting back to the club and Jimmy being so mad at us that that is when he decided that we should not hang out anymore. We got into to much trouble according to him. Lori and I had a fight, she told me to get in the back of the car since my birthday was over at midnight. Jen and I still laugh about this. Lori always had issues with me. She liked band members, and I was always friends with the bands, although I never dated any of them. Lori was insanely jealous of me, so we didn't hang out often.<br />
<br />
I have so many more stories on my relationship with Jen. 34 years worth.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-91751309173834381652019-05-26T13:13:00.003-07:002019-05-26T13:13:54.695-07:00Wages and rent. Let's talk about wages in this state for a minute.<br />
<br />
You all know I am a single mother. My children are grown, so I do not support them at this time. However, I will be helping with my 19-year-old, the one I spoke about in my last post.<br />
<br />
I've looked for housing that we can afford, and there is none. It's pretty much non-existent for a single household. You need at least 2 incomes to make it work, and most times that's not enough.<br />
<br />
There is nowhere in Washington State according to this article <a href="https://reports.nlihc.org/oor">https://reports.nlihc.org/oor</a><br />
This link shows I make 4 dollars less an hour to be able to afford a 2 bedroom home. That's just for housing. That does not include, basic needs. Food, gas, clothing, or car maintenance. Let alone, anything extra, like cable, entertainment, etc. Extra does not seem to be in the vocabulary or budget. In all likelihood, it would also be in an area where there are drugs and crime. Although that seems to be everywhere these days.<br />
<br />
I've changed jobs once in the last year, and now am planning on either going for another with a higher wage or getting a second job. The problem I see with this is the time I also need to help with Jake.<br />
<br />
So what are the answers? Do we vote again for a higher minimum wage? Do we go for rent control according to the cost of living? Do we room with friends, or strangers to make ends meet? No wonder the American family has fallen apart.<br />
<br />
In my opinion, the state of our economics has contributed to the downfall of society on a whole. It's systemic, this problem we have and no one seems to be outraged enough to find the solutions for it. I'm no longer surprised by the rate of the crime I see on a daily basis. Nor am I surprised by the constant stories I hear friends tell about what's happened with them.<br />
<br />
I'm not surprised by the homeless problems, but for the 1st time in a long time, I fear it. I've lived life on the edge since my divorce. Not making any one decision and sticking with it. Constantly on the go and moving around. Maybe so I could not be touched or hurt again. Probably. Either way, with the situation as it is with Jake, I want that stability again. I always did, I just didn't pursue it like I am now.<br />
<br />
We've been looking for places, and I know we will find one somewhere. It may take a job change again, it may not. Who knows, but that's where it's at. I think if someone wants something bad enough, they make it happen.<br />
<br />
Wages and Rents? We'll figure it out. I always do but something needs to change in that department. Rent's need to change and wages need to change.<br />
<br />
Peace~<br />
<br />Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-77980232743496124332019-05-23T21:32:00.000-07:002019-05-23T21:32:13.359-07:00Elusive<div dir="ltr">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qt97Kd5Wm1Q/XOdy0EGTmqI/AAAAAAAAIyM/8se6P0S9RfoMqTrTkGpBP9mhcjqsEyjSwCLcBGAs/s1600/60708161_10219997948525916_5132430973203382272_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qt97Kd5Wm1Q/XOdy0EGTmqI/AAAAAAAAIyM/8se6P0S9RfoMqTrTkGpBP9mhcjqsEyjSwCLcBGAs/s320/60708161_10219997948525916_5132430973203382272_n.jpg" width="219" /></a>Writing.....its slipped away these past few years. <br />
I've found it harder to express my thoughts on my own life. Like I'm <u>numb</u> to everything going on. <br />
Even my own choices. <br />
Life has slipped by. Seemingly endless with no direction. Like scenery passing by in a car window. <br />
Mundane, almost. Like I'm not really participating. Things happen and I feel I'm watching someone else respond to them. <br />
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
The past few years have sort of slipped away without me taking much notice of them. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
So in April of this year, my middle son, Jacob was diagnosed with A.S.D (Autism spectrum disorder) </div>
<div dir="ltr">
He's mid to high function, but the fascinating thing is memory function. It's below average for A.S.D. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
What this means, is, that even though he can function, his memory is so poor that, he immediately forgets, what's being asked of him, or required of him. There are other medical issues that have come along with this diagnosis too. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Now I notice. Everything. My focus is on work and Jake. Appointments, doctors, tests, etc. Paperwork. And lots of it. Jake has depression, social anxiety, and suicidal ideation. Between 6 day work weeks, little to no sleep, and helping my son, I've precious little time. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I am being pushed again to publish, and again, I wonder if any of what I write is worth someone's time to read. Clearly, this is an esteem issue for me. I don't feel like what I go through or what I deal with would be beneficial to someone else. Everyone has a story to tell. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I've written about suicide in this blog, or book, or whatever this turns out to be. From an outside perspective, it's a sense of feeling hopeless. Like nothing is real, and nothing matters. I can read Jakes emotions pretty well, and I see it sometimes and feel the need to be in constant contact with him by phone or email, if not physically with him. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
So.... my writing? I guess I have new things to write about. More challenges to face. I sense these will be my biggest ones yet, since my divorce years ago now. I can't imagine how Jake sees the world. I know how I see it and hope that he can one day find beauty and grace in it as I do. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
For now, peace out. </div>
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Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-24415616091596314672019-05-04T22:51:00.001-07:002019-05-05T08:13:24.071-07:00Sexy message<p dir="ltr"><i>The whole beginning of this posting is a caveat: </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Im handing out a piece of me that in all truth should stay private for now. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>I've been having dreams about this man I met. We are in a relationship of (not) so harmless flirtation, and friendship with an underlying sizzle. </i><br>
<i>He makes me laugh on a daily basis. We both laugh. We clicked immediately. I'm comfortable with him, yet nervous like a school girl when conversation starts to get steamy. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>The things I want to do with him. </i>Insert heavy groan for the thought of those things. I'd love to just tell him, but then would not be able to look in his eyes. I've never been able to express desire except on paper. In part I feel silly putting it here. I need seducing. I'm sensual, more than sexual. Hot and fast comes after seduction. He's already seduced my mind. </p>
<p dir="ltr">So this is me, stepping out of my comfort zone. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I can picture us at his place, on his deck. It's twilight as he stands behind me. <br>
I'm in jeans and a tank, barefoot. He's in jeans, shirtless and barefoot. It's warm out, a slight breeze drifts by. </p>
<p dir="ltr">His hands on my hips tracing circles softly, lightly following the curve of my spine to my buttocks. One of my erogenous zones. My heartbeat picks up as I anticipate where this is going. I love his hands, they are strong and sure. </p>
<p dir="ltr">He turns me in his arms, we kiss, deeply. I trace the hardness of his cock, <i>Lightly, up and down through his jeans as our kiss becomes deeper.</i><i> I unzip him slowly, as his hands travel to my breast. There is a light sheen of sweat on us, as we come closer together. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>My nipples are hard, and ache for his lips. He lifts my tank over my head, running his hands down my arms and over my ribs. Bringing his mouth to my breast, tracing the nipple with his tounge, lightly nipping it. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>We are both breathing heavy now,   undressing each other all the way. He lifts me to the deck railing, both of us unaware of our surroundings except for each other. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>He slides his clock into my wet hot depths, taking me slowly. I ache, and pull him deeper. We go slow </i>at 1st enjoying the sensations awakened in both of us<i>. Night </i><i>birds</i><i> call in the distance, and the moonlight slowly washes over his body. Sweat </i>glistens <i> on his chest, our eyes meet. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>He takes me hard then, until we both climax in waves, </i><i>and coming to rest in each </i><i>other's</i><i> arms. </i></p>
Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-56845761662961580022019-05-01T06:11:00.001-07:002019-05-01T12:46:06.448-07:00Timing <p dir="ltr"><i>Changing paths can make all the difference in the world. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Flying down the back roads of Snohomish County, the windows down, music on and the wind going past, you can smell the heat of summer coming. Fresh mown grass, the hay fields. Its early morning, the sun is out, but cold and brisk. A promise of a new day, a new beginning. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Memories of my younger self on these same roads flit through my mind. The sights and senses the same, but so much has changed. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Life's lessons have taught me to be open and receptive to new beginnings. I have a wild spirit, I've been wayward yet grounded. Always grounded to my upbringing. I'm simple, like quantum physics. A contradiction. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>I want passion, excitement, chaos, complication and joy. Yet I want freedom. Freedom to be me. </i><br>
<i>I want someone to fight for me, to stand with me, and to ground me when I'm heading for the door. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>I want love, commitment, compassion, growth, change,  respect. I want storms, thunder, lightning. I want life. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Mistakes will be made, feelings hurt, fights, but in the middle will be respect. Respect for the individuals we are. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Fear and anticipation.  A road not traveled in a long time. A pattern to be broken. A new path. A possibility for the future. </i></p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>As </i><i>I</i><i> roll through </i><i>the</i><i> small towns, the air becomes still in a</i>nticipation of rain. Storms rolling in. A cleansing of the past. </p>
Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-29229617673035372632018-06-14T07:23:00.001-07:002018-06-14T07:25:14.989-07:00Taking back our streets <span style="font-size: large;"><i>The other day I read this article. </i></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hzbZGlgO0Ig/WyJ6HiU2TGI/AAAAAAAAGeU/7dAzZkxHx8UlrjUXSlbOK0aFy-7sOls9gCLcBGAs/s1600/FLK500d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="996" data-original-width="996" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hzbZGlgO0Ig/WyJ6HiU2TGI/AAAAAAAAGeU/7dAzZkxHx8UlrjUXSlbOK0aFy-7sOls9gCLcBGAs/s400/FLK500d.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Political satire photo taken off a folklore site. WHY? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://www.cnn.com/2018/06/11/us/lemonade-stands-country-time-trnd/index.html?no-st=1528982141">https://www.cnn.com/2018/06/11/us/lemonade-stands-country-time-trnd/index.html?no-st=1528982141</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I find the whole idea disturbing. Don't get me wrong. I think what Country time is doing is great for the kids, but the fact that this is even an issue is what blows my mind. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I was raised selling lemonade, painted rocks and pictures during the summer for extra spending money. I was a wholesome all american kid. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>What happened? "We the people" have allowed this to happen over time. Slowly, but surly, like an infectious disease, a pandemic if you will, to develop to the point of no return. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Afraid of law suits. That's what the American people have become afraid of. We have allowed the idea, that the heroin use in this country is normal, and selling lemonade is not. WE have allowed that. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The other day, I read this article. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://mynorthwest.com/912497/drug-users-snohomish-county/amp/">http://mynorthwest.com/912497/drug-users-snohomish-county/amp/</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Does anyone see the fucking irony? I don't think our politicians, legislatures and city councils, are non-partisan, bi-partisan, liberal, or republican. I think they are god damn stupid. Stupid scared. Afraid to step on toes, racism, drug use, property lines, regulations, control, ect... the list goes on. There is so much of this that we are inundated with one problem after another, to the point of not knowing which ones to address 1st. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Here's an idea, lets take back our streets. Let's start there. Let's get angry, let's vote the politicians out that choose not to do anything about what is happening in our city's and states. All I hear is a bunch of excuses. No money, no funding, liability, ect. Constant argument about why we can't address this, but no argument for it. The same with guns in schools. We have simple solutions, but everyone screams, "no money". Where did the money come from on the bank bailouts? If I remember correctly, didn't all the exec's take Caribbean cruises? Seriously. I'm tired of excuses, and I know a lot of people that I hear are saying they are tired, but I really see no one doing a damn thing about it. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>My own field of work for that matter. Here's a conversation for you. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Me: I mention that the company I am with should drop the current security company and go with individual officers, ones that the company knows will do the work. The ones who will do the job and protect the employs and the public that shop there. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Company: well, in theory that sounds great, but we can't afford to. To many lawsuits., </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Me: Not afraid of lawsuits from injured employs huh? </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I've been assaulted twice in the last month. (no, not hurt, not seriously.) bruises, and some aches. Nothing serious though. I believe my company, both of them, should be concerned about that, not the lawsuit from the guy high on heroin, stealing, who trips running from the store, and injures his hands and knees. WE should be the liability, not them. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I digress, a lot. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I signed some petitions the other day. One was government transparency. Do I believe we will get results of this? Nope, but good luck. I think we should see results, but better yet, I think we should have petitions out there right now, that says we are taking back our streets. Our laws should toughen up, not lighten up. Start making these people accountable. Start making our law makers accountable. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Let's fine the children of the lawmakers who are selling lemonade, and camp out on their lawns, smoking dope, while it's being done. Let's see how that scenario affects them.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Drastic times, call for drastic measures. Time to take our streets back. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Does anyone remember this? Why was it never enacted? </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-3588962739161379092018-03-20T17:01:00.000-07:002018-03-20T17:09:29.108-07:00The infamous privacy issue. <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>About 2012, Aaron Swartz , <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aaron_Swartz">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aaron_Swartz</a> who was a computer programmer and entrepreneur, got involved in on line activism and a bill that was up in legislation. </i></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Stop Online Piracy Act</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> (</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">SOPA</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">) was a controversial United States </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_(law)" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Bill (law)">bill</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> introduced by </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_House_of_Representatives" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="United States House of Representatives">U.S. Representative</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lamar_S._Smith" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Lamar S. Smith">Lamar S. Smith</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> (R-TX) to expand the ability of U.S. law enforcement to combat online </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Copyright_infringement" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Copyright infringement">copyright infringement</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> and online trafficking in </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Counterfeit_consumer_goods" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Counterfeit consumer goods">counterfeit goods</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">. Provisions included the requesting of court orders to bar </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Online_advertising" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Online advertising">advertising</a> <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">networks and payment facilities from conducting business with infringing websites, and </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Web_search_engine" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Web search engine">web search engines</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> from linking to the websites, and court orders requiring </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internet_service_provider" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Internet service provider">Internet service providers</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> to block access to the websites. The proposed law would have expanded existing criminal laws to include unauthorized </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Streaming_media" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Streaming media">streaming</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> of copyrighted content, imposing a maximum penalty of five years in prison. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stop_Online_Piracy_Act">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stop_Online_Piracy_Act</a> I don't know how many of you actually remember this, but it was a huge issue on-line for internet marketers. (I was one of those) </span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">On the one hand, my digital content, is mine, and is only shared with the public when I want it to . (Or so I thought back then) On the other hand, when I learned of the S.O.P.A bill, myself, and millions of on-line marketers watched as it became a looming threat to our insular world. I also thought, well, who cares? I'm not doing anything wrong, so therefore have nothing to hide. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Now we are back at it. Different day, different name, same shit. The question now is, does our government have the right to everything we put on the net? Different bill, right? Kinda. We are still talking about the same thing here. The rights of our public, as opposed to the rights of our government. Now the threat is, an algorithm. I've read a few of the on-line articles, and I've watched the news today. I see the stock falling on facebook, but what I don't see, is the outrage again. What changed? A sign of the times? </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">We are living in a world that has become increasingly smaller, while our population has become increasingly larger. The threat to our children is there for the government to see. School shootings, guns, the war on drugs. Ect. </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">To understand what is happening now with our digital content, we have to go back and look at Aaron Swartz, Edward Snowden, and Julian Assuange. All 3 of them did something groundbreaking. Unprecedented. All having to do with what our government does, and does not tell us. I mean, Snowden didn't tell us anything we didn't already know if you were paying attention. Neither did Aaron Swartz. We are not private. Never have been, never will be. </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">So here's the question, and I would really love to hear from my readers how you feel on this one. Should our government be privy to "Everything" we put out here, or should it be based on the Algorithms alone. You have to also understand, what data mining is, and how tedious that would be, and time consuming. In the security industry, we call that a decoy. Only flip it. Meaning, our government is so intent on this content, that they ultimately miss the real threat. Take 911 for starters. They had been warned, but did nothing. The school shooting in Parkland, also had advance knowledge. So why did either happen? I'll tell you, because they were mining to much data from us, to take it seriously. The information became diluted, therefore, leaving no time to act. </span></span></i></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">See, the Algorithms, will tell our government if we are affiliated with Terrorists, or if we plan on a mass shooting, ect. It will tell them if we are democratic, or republican, for Trump or against Trump. (Remember, this is Trump pushing this again) It will use buzz words like, "The Anarchist cookbook", conspiracy theorists, shootings, ect.. just like I am doing right now, and from that, it will determine if I am a threat or not. Do we really want our content public, (which I think already is) don't fool yourselves. Do you think, if I put up a meme, that says, Trumps an idiot, or some stupid thing like that, because I am not happy with what he is currently doing, or not doing, does that mean I am not a republican? Really? Our government is that smart that they have time to figure this out? Do we really want the men in black showing up, knocking, asking "whatcha doin" because of a stupid post? I think they have better things to do than that. </span></span></i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Once again, I happen to disagree with this. On the one hand, if you are doing nothing wrong, who cares then, right? On the other hand, is this just more bullshit for our government to wade through, that has nothing to do with our national security. </span></span></i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Food for thought. I'd love to hear from you all! </span></span></i></div>
Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-18113059273809021772018-03-06T12:39:00.004-08:002018-03-06T12:39:52.421-08:00Should Teachers have guns<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>No. Emphatically no! (hey, just my opinion) and I'll tell you why. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Our teachers have spent years being educated, going to college, spending thousands of dollars to educate themselves, in order to educate our children, and now some want to arm them. In fact, Trump has stated he will give a bonus to those who go and train and get certified to carry. Seriously? You really want to risk putting our children in a class room with an armed teacher? </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What happens when that teacher can't pay his mortgage, and is loosing his home, his wife cheats, and he goes ballistic. ON OUR KIDS. Don't say it can't happen. It can. It has in fact happened in other professions. Remember the postal workers in the 90's? </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>What happens when the young co-ed teacher becomes afraid of the class room bully? She's there alone with him before school. She shoots him? Yes, it could happen. Teacher are not there to arm themselves. We pay them to educate our kids. That is what they are trained to do, and paid to do. Kids need to feel safe in school. It should be their home away from home. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Teachers with guns is not going to make them feel safe. They will feel threatened by anything from the outside. Our teachers will be on high alert, constantly. This will not make the atmosphere in school conducive to learning. Our kids are to young to comprehend the ramifications of an armed teacher. C'mon people, is this what we want our kids to see? You have to remember, this is not just in high schools. It's in our grade schools too. Sandyhook. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Anyone around who would remember May 18th 1927. The Bath School Massacre. 38 children were killed. (Bath Michigan) <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bath_School_disaster">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bath_School_disaster</a> </i></span><br />
<i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">NOT BY A GUN. By a bomb. This is not just about guns, and who should have them and who should not. We need resources for our mental health programs. NOT armed teachers. Teachers are already underpaid and over worked. They always have been, I don't believe we should have the added stress of a cross trained teacher. </i><br />
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<i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Should it be their choice? That I could go for, but to make it mandatory is wrong. Our Teachers should be what they already are. Educators. Everyone that I have spoken with since the Parkland shooting is either saying arm the teachers, or ban the weapons, or both. Why has NO ONE said, what are we doing about the mental health of our families? I'll tell you why. Because it's politics, and it shouldn't be. These are our kids. I'll say it again. Wake up America. We are letting down the next voting generation by our in action to do anything about mental health. According to the CDC 4,400 children a year commit suicide. </i><br />
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<i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Why is everyone stuck on the gun issue? </i>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-85413891608762554432018-02-28T11:02:00.000-08:002018-02-28T11:02:23.605-08:00Being a mother of School age kids. <a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9ghthTej9u0/Wpb77wON17I/AAAAAAAAFn8/Cq2xhvZEcjMEPVD8nzVfEEsH3p5P3EGFQCLcBGAs/s1600/school%2Bshooter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9ghthTej9u0/Wpb77wON17I/AAAAAAAAFn8/Cq2xhvZEcjMEPVD8nzVfEEsH3p5P3EGFQCLcBGAs/s400/school%2Bshooter.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>This article has taken me a couple of weeks to write. My son Gabriel came to me last week and asked a very powerful question in the wake of the parkland shooting. "What should he do?" His classmates have planned 6 student walk outs. I asked him why, what were they trying to gain? He said they want our teachers armed. More security in the school. I asked what he wanted. He said, I am staying in class. Even though he would be the only student doing so. He wants his education. Period. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>We, my children and I, went through the fear of a school shooting. The Marysville one. We had just moved when it took place, but all the kids classmates and friends were still there. My granddaughter was friends with the boy who did the shooting. We had check ins on facebook, because I did not know where all my kids were on that day. I know my oldest had planned on being at the school. I tagged him and his friends to check in because we could not get through on the phones. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The questions that people had after the shooting, the emotions, the fear of going back. All these overwhelming thoughts happened. What if my kids had been in that cafeteria? </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I'm a gun owner. I would not say advocate per say, because I think it comes down to the individual and how that persons handles everyday stress. I do not believe that everyone should have a gun, or even have access to one. </i></span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">The Parkland Florida school shooting, has become the catalyst for our political platform on the great weapons debate. (and I hope you are paying attention to what I am writing, not to respond, but to make you think) hint, Catalyst. (Our children, who are being killed, are making people stand up an say, it's the guns.) they are the catalyst. The next voting generation, and they are saying, we will vote you out. We have the power to do so. </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Does anyone really know how wrong this is? To depend on our children to make the change. I empathize with the Teens who have come forward to blast Trump on gun laws, and I get it. I do. But what is happening is nothing to do with the access of guns. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Correlation, does not mean causation. These shooters show 2 personas. You recognize the signs after, but never before. There is a psychopathy to these children, or young adults. They have impulse control issues, they are incapable of empathy and they are dis inhibited. Meaning, they are marginal to society. So unless the mental health professionals get involved with families and children who are marginal, we will not see a change. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The guns will always be available, regardless of the lawmakers. What's happening in politics comes no where close to whats happening on our streets. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>There have been 461 school shootings since the Texas Clock Tower massacre. This year alone there have been 18. That works out to about 3 a week. maybe a little less. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>We are evolving backwards. Our brains are getting bigger but malfunctioning more. We have become godless and self destructive. We destroy our habitation, and eat our own. If we want to save our children, we have got to change the way we think. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Wake up. The gun debate is the least of our worries. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-42637208113864613532018-02-12T15:26:00.001-08:002018-02-12T15:26:19.102-08:00The cold and Flu season; This years epidemic (to get the shot or not) <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The cold and flu season. Usually starting in mid October and continuing on to the following year, sometimes in to March. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>For me, it starts in late November, and I usually have it until the beginning of January. This time however, it has hung on until just the past couple weeks, and is slowly going away. I do not have a spleen, so it is harder for me to fight anything I get. I do not though, get the flu shot. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Here's why; several years ago, when the doctors figured out I did not have a spleen, they loaded me up with shots. The flu shot, the </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>pneumococcal and more. I had a rare auto immune disease that was treated with chemo, so all my defenses were low. Through the years though, I stopped getting the shots. Moving, changing Doctors, life changes, and so on, so I just stopped. I have found that I have been healthier without the shots and other medicines that I have been on. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>This year has been the 1st year that I caught the flu really bad, and it knocked me for a loop. I got it one day before the New Year, and still have the cough, and sinus issue. (mostly from working in a smoke filled casino is what I believe) Anyway, I don't get the shots. This is a personal choice. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>In Washington State, we have had over 150 deaths from complications of the flu, 27 have been in Snohomish county. The highest in the state. <a href="http://www.heraldnet.com/news/county-leads-state-in-flu-deaths-now-at-27/">http://www.heraldnet.com/news/county-leads-state-in-flu-deaths-now-at-27/</a> This is my county. I live in the North end where homelessness and drug abuse has also risen. No doubt contributing to these statistics. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>According to the CDC the shot this year was only 46% effective. That's not a high number. I'm not a Doctor, nor a scientist, I didn't study medicine, or biology. None of those things, but it seems to me, that getting a shot that is not 100% effective, is not really worth it. I'm basing this on personal experience, but think about it. Why would you want to put a live virus in your body. (I get it, it builds the immune system) but if it's not going to work, then why do it? We've seen through the years what shots our Doctors give us, and our Government says we need, to go to school, to travel, ect; have done in the long term. Higher rates of Autism, meningitis, and other side effects. So, to me, there is just no point in getting one. (Again, a personal choice) </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Personal belief; It all comes down to DNA and Genetics. To get the shot or not is up to you. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Other statistics involving shot's that our Government tell us we need. Let's look at the Amish, and people and culture who do not go by the guidelines of popular society. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/HealthRanger/videos/10154510104936316/">https://www.facebook.com/HealthRanger/videos/10154510104936316/</a></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>So there ya go; think things through before you blindly do what someone else tells you is good for you. You decide. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-38538761859896104032018-01-31T12:17:00.000-08:002018-01-31T12:17:43.240-08:00A mother's view of the racial divide <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>It's been a bit since I have written, and I've been thinking a lot on the racial divide in this country. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>22 years ago, I gave birth to my oldest son. Antony Michael Yousseff Ahmed. I was married to his father at the time. The gulf war was happening, and tensions in the Arab community were high. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br />I didn't really worry about Antony all that much when it came to his ethnic decent. He was born in America and therefore, he was American. Period. End of story. My outlook was complacent. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Over the years, as America has engaged in more and more conflict with the middle east, I worry more about my son. That conflict has now come to our soil, so as a mother, you can see why I would be concerned. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I've always accepted people for who they are, regardless of skin color, social status, or religion. We are all human, and all have the right to the pursuit of happiness. We, as a people, have taken to stero typing individuals, and putting them into one group. Arab? Yep, he's a terrorist. Black? Yep, thief, rapist and more. White poor? Heroin and drug abusers, Mexican? Illegal immigrant, and so on and so forth. I wonder if anyone has taken a step back and really looked at their own behavior and reactions to each individual group. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>When we talk about the racial divide in this country, we tend to lean towards speaking in hostile tones, and pointing fingers, and yet we claim to be a tolerant people. Tolerant of what? A color? A religion? Just what are we tolerant of, and why is that particular word even being used? Why can't this be as simple as "I like this person, but dislike what that person is choosing to do?" Based on character, and nothing else. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>From my standpoint, when people view my son as "Arab", and lump him in "that" category, it scares the crap out of me. Is some whack job going to shoot him? Beat him to a bloody pulp, target him in some way? What about our own government? They have now decided that the Arabs are terrorists. All of them? Really? Come on people. Wake up! It's not our place to judge, and by doing so, we are apart of the problem, not the solution. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>My son's not Arab. He's American born and raised, educated and an upstanding young man. A productive contributor to our society. Isn't that the goal in this world? To raise productive well rounded children? I'm damn proud of him. I don't know that I can relate to the black man who gets discriminated against for the color of his skin, or the Mexican man for wanting a better life for his family, or the Arab who lives here and get's snubbed, just for being Arab. I'm white. So I do not have the same prejudices against me. But I can empathize, and I can start a conversation that can lead to solutions. I can understand the plight of all people trying to live in peace in this world. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>~peace~ </i></span>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-17519498093216604692017-12-21T14:21:00.001-08:002017-12-21T14:21:22.159-08:00Sexual harassment and pay offs<i><span style="font-size: large;">This is a follow up to my article on Sexual harassment; a different perspective. </span></i><div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">In the news lately there have been a lot of stories on Sexual abuse, or sexual harassment, or mis conduct. The most recent as of yesterday is about a young woman by the name of McKayla Maroney. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">She was an Olympic gymnast, a Gold medalist, and starting at the age of 13 at her training camp in Houston Texas, Dr. Larry Nasser allegedly abused her. Her and 141 other young girls in his charge for the Olympic's. McKayla was paid off in a mediation settlement for an undisclosed amount to keep quiet about her abuse. For full story, see here; <a href="http://time.com/5074524/usa-gymnastics-paid-mckayla-maroney-sex-abuse/">http://time.com/5074524/usa-gymnastics-paid-mckayla-maroney-sex-abuse/</a> Nasser is now serving 60 years in prison. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">So clearly we have a legitimate case of Sexual misconduct, and cover up. However, here is the million dollar question that I think any mother of a young girl would be asking herself. Why did McKayla's mother allow this to happen and why did she take the pay off? McKayla was underage when the mediation and settlement happened. Therefore she had to have a parent or guardian with her when the legal paperwork was signed. So what the hell was she thinking and why aren't charges being filed against her for neglect and child endangerment. (at a minimum) </span></i></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fNR2exWzuAg/WjwzEVEXQaI/AAAAAAAAFJk/JoMha0O-geYdqAxneJfFyzr1gebNsUwBQCLcBGAs/s1600/mckayla-maroney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1153" data-original-width="1600" height="230" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fNR2exWzuAg/WjwzEVEXQaI/AAAAAAAAFJk/JoMha0O-geYdqAxneJfFyzr1gebNsUwBQCLcBGAs/s320/mckayla-maroney.jpg" width="320" /></a><i><span style="font-size: large;">At Nasser's hearing McKayla and her mother both submitted victim impact statements. Seriously? I'd like someone to explain how Mama was a victim of the Olympic committee and the "Law". Was she coerced also? Or did she see a fat paycheck. I did some digging and came up with nothing on Erin Maroney, McKayla's mother. Not her back ground, not her source of income. Nothing. I also cannot find anything on McKayla's father. He's not mentioned once in the articles on McKayla. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">The photo above shows McKayla and her mother Erin. Both look healthy and happy. Either way, I am watching this story as it develop, and you can bet, I will have an opinion regarding Mama's duplicity in this case. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">As for McKayla, my heart goes out to the young girl she was, and the young women she is now. I pray she finds peace with her past. </span></i></div>
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Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-9367759808370852572017-12-19T16:58:00.000-08:002017-12-19T16:58:47.149-08:00Sexual Harassment; A different perspective <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I'll start this with a caveat; This is in no way a defense of current events that are happening around the globe and in our news. I cannot speak for the women who are currently going through this or have gone through this in the past. My belief and views should not negate what other women go through, nor the Law, or statue of what they are dealing with. It is not my place. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I am speaking for me; and me alone. I believe each of us experience the same things in different ways. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I've always been a hothead when it comes to politics, policy, rules, and guidelines, and this is no different. Should sexual harassment be taking place, and in what capacity does it become a law suit. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>This should come down to individual experience. Period. We have no right to judge what someone else has gone through. Question, yes, not judge. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>In 1987, I was working as a cocktail waitress in a local bar. The uniform back then was a black mini skirt, white tux shirt with a cummerbund and tie, and high heels. I was barely 22 years old, and did not question our "look". ( no, I have no photos..lol...) I did not date, and did not put up with men who made sexual innuendos. I was there for the job and paycheck. Period. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>When I switched from cocktail waitress to bouncer, my look did not change much. I was still required to wear skirts and heels, but I could choose my own clothing. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The owner of the club I worked for was in "love" with me... and a few other girls. I considered him a friend only. He was about 6'5 and weighed about 600 pds. His frequent comment to my turning him down on a relationship was "It's because I am fat isn't it?" my answer was no, "it's because you are an alcoholic". That, and he was 22 years older than me. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>That said, he kept the guys away from me, either with his "looks" and intimidation, or flat out telling them I was his. Me being me, I would roll my eyes and tell him to get stuffed. He fired me at least once a week, and called me back to work the very next day after he would do it. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>He showed up at my parent's home in his limo one morning at 3am, and got my father pissed off as all get out, as his limo blocked my dad from leaving to work. My father then pounded on my bedroom door, getting me up. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>In the meantime, Steve was in the driveway, yelling that he was gonna marry me, or see me dead. He also pulled a 9mm on me and my cousin one night when I was being walked to my car at the club. Was this sexual harassment? I'm sure in other women's eyes it would have been. In mine, it was just flat out annoying.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The point I am attempting to make with this little story, is, I was smart enough to know that this was just a game with Steve. It was harmless. I'm also smart enough to know that women like Katie Couric "appears" to be jumping on the band wagon of sexual assault victims these days. Breaking her silence". </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Indeed. Did she really feel her livelihood was threatened by Matt Lauer? Was he really "pinching her on the ass" as reports say? Or is this all media hype because people want Trump out of office for his sexual misconduct. (Which, by the way was prior to him being in office.)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i> It's entirely possible. However, I'm seeing a trend here and it's called diversion. Media blitz. Yada Yada.... Katie is and was in a position of power. Her Intellect put her there. Do we really want to believe that she would not have come forward when this was happening 14 years ago? Her salary was 15 million a year. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I for one cannot believe that a woman in her position, or any position of power; ie: the rest we are reading about right now, would not speak up. She did stories on victims, and was one herself? I smell B.S. Why now? What's the benefit? The statue of limitations on Sexual assault in New York, (where the Today show is filmed) is 5 years. So this becomes a civil suit if true. In Virginia where Couric lives however the statue is 20 years. So this begs the question, why come forth now. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I'm sorry folks, I just don't buy into this media frenzy of Sexual miss conduct. Do I think it happens? Yes, do I think the women that are coming forward now have had it happen to them? I just can't say. It's all allegation at this point, and I don't believe that anyone should be fired before a fair and impartial trial. IF that is, charges are even going to be filed. I also know that had it been sexual miss-conduct with me 30 years ago when I worked for Steve, you can bet your sweet ass I would have filed charges and pursued them. Then, not now. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I've raised 3 boys, and if I ever caught wind of sexual miss conduct from them against a co-worker I would be the 1st to stand up for her. My boys would get a boot up their you know what for it too, along with any charges from the woman. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I'll say this, what I do believe is how a man treats his mother is how he'll treat a woman. I'd be interested to know what Matt Lauer's relationship with his mother was. </i></span>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-11981502851893323712017-12-12T20:48:00.000-08:002017-12-12T20:48:46.672-08:00Class war; the Division that will always exist. <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I'll start this by taking a look at our current President. Donald Trump. Self made man, self made Billionaire. New money; as opposed to old money. Is he accepted in the hierarchy of blue bloods? The answer is no. No, he is not. He's allowed a certain standing, but a precarious one. If we were to strip him of his money and title, who would he be. </i></span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I digress, this is not really all about Trump. In 2016, the year of Brexit and Trump, two pieces of data, neglected by the shrewdest of establishment analysts, Tells the story That in the U.S. , more than 1/2 of Americans could not qualify to buy the cheapest car on the market. The Nissan Versa Sedan, priced at just a little over 12,000.00 According to Federal Reserve data. Meanwhile in the U.K, 40% of families were using credit and food banks. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The elites readiness to ignore widening class divisions and replace them with class blind identity politics has been the greatest gift to toxic populism. </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hating to recognize the intensified class war, the vast public bangs its head on conspiracy theories and Russian influence with bursts of misogyny, the flow of migrants, and the rise of the machine, ect. Meanwhile the fears are correlated with the militant parochialism fueling Trump and Brexit. These, only tangential to the deeper cause. Class war against the poor. (Which we spoke of with the car affordability in the U.S and the credit dependent U.K. This is all propaganda to further turn you're head away from the classes. </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Politicians</i></span><span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> love division, and if they can get our attention in area's of less importance, while lining their coffers, so much the better. </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You see, they don't care about us. They do not care about affordable health care, Social Security, or retirement. They do not care that we might possibly live on the streets, or go without food. It's just data to them, and we, "the people" buy into it. It then perpetuates itself. </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Does it matter what kind of car you drive, or where you live? What kind of education you had, or how you got it? What about the clothes you wear, or even the state you are in? Have you asked where your taxes go, or do you blindly allow the government to tell you where they went, with no proof, no accountability. </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I like to think, that I can put on a million dollar outfit, and attend a benefit with a 35,000 dollar a plate entrance, and no one would be the wiser about my background. 30 years ago, I could have. Maybe not so much now. I come from middle class America, which no longer exists, and live below poverty level. You would not think that, to look at me, or talk with me. So does the division really exists? </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In 2008, the financial collapse of the market, and subsequent recession buried the dream of class equality. Yet the liberals ignored the the fact that there were huge losses incurred by the quasi-criminal financial sector, that were cynically transferred to a working class they thought no longer mattered. "Polite society" seemed not to give a damn that it was now easier to get into Harvard or Cambridge, whether you were black or poor. It was blatantly ignored that identity politics could be as divisive as apartheid if allowed to act as a lever for overlooking class conflict. </span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Just recently, The University of Colorado set aside 3 buildings housing students, for all Asian, all Blacks and LGBTQ students. So what happened? Now we have not only division of class, we have taken a step back in time and have a division of race. What I find even more interesting is that it was the students themselves that requested this division. Since the inauguration of President Trump; everything we have worked for in America, stood for in America, and fought for in America has come full circle.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Trump has had no compunction to speak clearly of class division. It has largely been ignored although deceitfully. </span></span></i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Predictably, the embrace of the working class by Trump and the Brexiteers was always going to arm them with electoral power that, sooner or later, would be deployed against working-class interests and, of course, minorities — always the penchant of populism in power, from the 1930s to today.</i></span></span></div>
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Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-48918809612746523722017-12-12T11:42:00.000-08:002017-12-12T12:33:22.933-08:00Suicide; before and after <span style="font-size: large;"><i>This is one of the toughest subjects out there; because there are no answers. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Suicide. I've known 3 young boys that have taken this step in the past year. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Words are meaningless, and being a person who rely's on words to express my thoughts, I didn't have many. Not when it happened, not after it happened, and certainly not during the telling of it. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I went to a viewing today, and as I sat with the mother of this young boy who died, I thought, "grief" what is it. What does it mean? I drew a blank. Like the look in his mother's eye's as she went through the motions of tending to her family. Minus one. His father, greeting people, and repeating the same thing, over and over. Thank you for coming, please light a candle, I'm sorry if I'm being rude, I need to greet people. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I heard his wife say, you be you, and I'll be me. But who are they now? After this young boy had blessed their lives with his grace and love. Daniel was 15. He loved music, and animals. He loved his friends, and family. On the surface, he was generally a happy kid. Hiking, camping, playing. He was a gamer, a musician, a brother and a son. He was a normal teenager, with normal teen angst. But somewhere along the line, he got lost. </i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I believe the spirits of these young men who have been lost to the tangible world are still with us. I do not believe that these things happened through any fault of the parents of these children, nor friends, or school officials. Its been a little over a week since I went to this viewing, and I still have no words. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>As a parent myself, I fear the pain of this kind of loss, and can only sit back helplessly as other parents go through this and attempt to carry on as if life was still normal. But it is not.... not for them, and not for anyone close to them. I find myself attempting to start a conversation with the parent's. Thought out in advance in my head, and nothing seems appropriate. Everything is trite. Flat, as I imagine it is for them. Words hold no meaning. We take them out and analyze them, yet there is nothing cohesive. Nothing to put the word together and make it mean something. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I think about the 1st's; 1st Christmas, 1st birthday, 1st everything. How do you get through this, knowing a piece is missing. Getting up and facing the day because there is no other choice. Stumbling through, acting as if nothing is wrong, but everything is. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>31 years ago, My best friend in the whole world lost her 15 year old son. My godson. I was on the search and rescue for him. I really did not know how she did it, getting through all these things, going back to life again. I asked her this past week, and the only thing she could put her finger on was life. Her life, her 2nd son's life. She said the 1st few years after loosing Tim were a blur, as I imagine it will be for Daniel's family. Things will cut you and make you bleed, memories will make you want to curl into a fetal position and never come out of it. But the human spirit is stronger than we realize, and for the parent's of these lost boys, they will also find a way to get through In their own time. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I want to tell Daniel's family that they will make it. Yet I don't know how. I want to say to the other 2 boys family the same thing, and again, do not know how. So in this, maybe this is one of the 1st answer's we really have, these lost boys did not know how to tell someone how they felt. The words they may have used would be flat, and hold no meaning. There was nothing tangible for them to point to and say, this is why I did this. This is why. And maybe this will be the 1st step in the healing process for them.</i></span><br />
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<h3 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; letter-spacing: -0.5px; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0.3125rem; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
Warning signs of suicide</i></span></h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /></i></span>
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<ul style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 17.6px; margin-top: 0px;">
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Talking about wanting to die</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Looking for a way to kill oneself</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Talking about feeling trapped or in unbearable pain</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Talking about being a burden to others</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Increasing the use of alcohol or drugs</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Acting anxious, agitated or recklessly</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Sleeping too little or too much</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Withdrawing or feeling isolated</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Showing rage or talking about seeking revenge</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Displaying extreme mood swings</i></span></li>
</ul>
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<h3 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; letter-spacing: -0.5px; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0.3125rem; margin-top: 40px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>
What to do</i></span></h3>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 17.6px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>If someone you know exhibits warning signs of suicide:</i></span></div>
<ul style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; margin-bottom: 17.6px; margin-top: 0px;">
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Do not leave the person alone.</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Remove any firearms, alcohol, drugs or sharp objects that could be used in a suicide attempt.</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Call the U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or send a text to the <a href="https://www.crisistextline.org/" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #00449e; text-decoration-line: none;">Crisis Text Line</a> at 741-741.</i></span></li>
<li style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Take the person to an emergency room or seek help from a medical or mental health professional.</i></span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;"><i>Most people who die by suicide grapple with mental health or substance abuse, or both, although sometimes those conditions go un-diagnosed. In 2015, suicide was the second leading case of death among 15- to 35-year-olds in the United States, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The number of suicides that year, 44,193, dwarfed the number of homicides, 17,793.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "times" , serif; font-size: 20px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>I'm choosing not to use photos in this piece, because I don't feel that photo's belong to this story. Photo's do not belong to the term Suicide. A voice does. And word's can become a voice. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>This is dedicated to Daniel, and his family. May god surround you with his love and peace, and may Daniel fly with the Angels. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Please; If you can, make a donation in Daniel's name to <a href="https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/">https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org</a></i></span></div>
Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-16374662711471528962017-11-24T11:35:00.003-08:002017-11-24T11:35:23.137-08:00Corporate careers should not come in two flavors; his and her's. <a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5b8V4WCyUqo/Whh0Q8-1NCI/AAAAAAAAE8Q/w7JlGOBx-GMkUemv3FpDhwXFMU7GnpwUwCLcBGAs/s1600/Women-men-differs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="433" data-original-width="620" height="223" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5b8V4WCyUqo/Whh0Q8-1NCI/AAAAAAAAE8Q/w7JlGOBx-GMkUemv3FpDhwXFMU7GnpwUwCLcBGAs/s320/Women-men-differs.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><i>30 years ago, I started my career in the food and beverage industry. (Even though I wanted a career in Law enforcement) Waitressing in a local club. This was just one of many jobs I would have getting to my final goal. I say club, because back then, the focus was the alcohol for money, not the food. Food was only on the menu because of the liquor laws. I learned within 6 months that this is not where I wanted to be. I had no patience for people. Period. My perception was, they were like drunk 2 year old's. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>About the 6 month mark, I had a table that had 6 or 7 guys at it. They all knew the owner. One in-particular I ended up cutting off. Of course he was not pleased with this, and proceeded to put his hand up my skirt on my return to the table with drinks for the others. All of them finding this hilarious, although they could see I was seething. I turned to the guy who had done this and dumped my entire tray, (about 27 drinks in all) on his head. Chaos ensued. My girlfriend who was the bartender, came rushing out to pull me off the floor, and the owner of course had rushed down to apologize to his friends, and get them more drinks. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Jennifer got me a drink and pulled me to the side, and then talked to the owner while I was calming down. She came back and asked if I wanted to work the door. I said yes. The term bouncer was used back then and the protocol was a lot different than it is now, but that is what I was. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The rest of that story is a hazy memory these days, but the point was, I ended up in the security industry from then on. (My dream to go into law enforcement was on hold due to other things happening in my life. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>So the story goes, Security became my career. My start was that 1st local club, and then more local clubs, due to how good I was, and then along with recommendations from the liquor board, I went to private security. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Now, in the security industry, there were not many women at all. I was one of 3 that I knew of at the time, and the other two did not pursue this. I was up against men for local jobs but because of my gender, I ended up with some pretty cush positions and wages. My ceiling was 16.00 an hour and that was then. (more than I am making now, (working food and beverage) and the same in that particular field) </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>When people 1st realized what I did for a living, they were like, no way! How do you do that? Aren't you scared of getting hurt, or getting into fights? My answer to all this was no. The reasoning was because I am female, the expected is no longer the norm. Men fight, not women. So I was the un expected element in this industry. I had 2 incident reports in 20 years of doing this, compared to men, who had 1 -2 a night or weekend. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I'm back in the food and beverage industry, and it's taken me less than 2 months to realize, again, this is not where I want to be. Let's face it, people are A**holes, and if I were to go back to security, I can throw them out. (for the most part) </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>What I have noticed in the job I am in right now, is that if there is any conflict, either internal with co-workers or with the general public, we (women) do not have the power, or confidence to take a stand on what is right or wrong according to club policy. (or Casino) where ever you may be. It's a strange feeling to be back under an invisible ceiling after 30 years of having a semblance of control in your position. You literally feel suffocated and like you cannot contribute to making you're current position feel like you are on a team. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>In chatting with other women in this field they also feel the same way I do. When I bring this up with men in these positions, they have no idea what I'm talking about. They do not feel like I do, as if I am running to the boss to tattle, or to solve an issue that cannot be solved alone. There is an atmosphere of being stifled. Feelings that if something is brought up, or mentioned, then my job is at risk. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It's the supervisor's position to create an atmosphere conducive to good moral and teamwork. Not to allow one that makes you feel like a 2 year old when an issue cannot be solved on your own. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>In my current position, I have come across 2 co-workers, that feel the need to constantly put me on edge. If I were in security, I would not be feeling this way. I'd have my game back. I would be able to work freely without fear of retribution or job loss. The difference between being a man and a woman in these fields, are glaringly noticeable, yet nothing is done about this, even 30 years later. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Women will always have a ceiling, whereas men will not. I would think in this day and age, that invisible line would have long since been blurred and washed away. So, with that said. No, we are not equals, and I don't believe we ever will be. No matter what we do. I think there will be a select few, who disregard that line, but it will still be there. I'd dearly love to be the one that can erase this line, and I am sure there are also many women who feel the same. The only thing I can do is write about it, and hope that enough people, men and women, read it and spread the word. Policy and protocol should be the same for all of us. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203822475937969914.post-60015350309261095912017-11-18T12:48:00.003-08:002017-11-18T12:48:32.224-08:00Let's talk about customer service. <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Growing up we were taught manners. It did not matter if we were in the public or not. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fc3s8NWQMio/WhCcXm6opaI/AAAAAAAAE3Q/o8qQMkaaiZQcyjfA5v-sdFxLhHyUkXjnACLcBGAs/s1600/AAEAAQAAAAAAAAl0AAAAJDAzMmIzOWIwLTNhYmItNGVjNy1iZTBkLThiMmY2NDk4MTRiNg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="600" height="246" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fc3s8NWQMio/WhCcXm6opaI/AAAAAAAAE3Q/o8qQMkaaiZQcyjfA5v-sdFxLhHyUkXjnACLcBGAs/s320/AAEAAQAAAAAAAAl0AAAAJDAzMmIzOWIwLTNhYmItNGVjNy1iZTBkLThiMmY2NDk4MTRiNg.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Going to a restaurant, even though the waitresses and waiter's are paid, short of removing glasses and plates, we cleaned up after ourselves. We took pride in how we were in the public, and it showed. If a napkin was dropped we picked it up. If we spilled food or drink, we cleaned it up. We did not leave this for the waiter or waitress. We also left hefty tips, for good service, knowing that these are what they depended on the most. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>As I grew older, I ended up in the customer service industry myself. I started as a cocktail waitress. Back in the 80's, we had a very high standard when it came to the customer. We still do, but I have found that the appreciation for what we do is no longer there. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>It seems as if the general public has a expectation that we wait on them regardless of our wage or tip. Most jobs that entail getting tips are not just a person standing behind the cash registrar and taking you're order. We also clean up when you leave, making sure you have condiments, coffee, tea, cups sauces, pop, water, and more. On top of picking up after you once you have left the table. and we are on our feet for 8 hours straight at a minimum. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I have watched over the years, how customer service has changed on both sides. We still get minimum wage, and we still do an incredible amount of work, but now we get less and less in the tip jar. I think an expectation has come about that because the public does not see the side work we do, (apparently thinking it is elves in the middle of the night that do it) we no longer get the appreciation we used to. Customers these days can be thoughtless, as well as employees who don't really care, but the majority of us do. It's why we do what we do. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ae_Tj7vNhMU/WhCcaU8RrlI/AAAAAAAAE3U/t_Ul3oROtkoEz7GE2GFXgGgdKIjmaenkgCLcBGAs/s1600/20161208172924-GettyImages-583665377.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="750" height="180" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ae_Tj7vNhMU/WhCcaU8RrlI/AAAAAAAAE3U/t_Ul3oROtkoEz7GE2GFXgGgdKIjmaenkgCLcBGAs/s320/20161208172924-GettyImages-583665377.jpeg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>I'm hoping to clear up this miss conception that all we do is stand behind a registrar. I'd like the general public to stop and think a moment about the service you receive, and the amount of work that goes into making sure your needs are met 100% and above. For very little money. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>We have a tip jar in front of us. It is there for a reason. Penny's from your change is an insult, and I know there are many times we would love dearly to shout it out about how rude this is, we stand there and take it, because we need the job, and even more important, some of us, probably the majority of us in this industry, truly do care about the service you receive. We've been doing this for many years, its a career for some of us. Let's acknowledge it for what it is. Just because some of us do not have degrees, and don't come in in business suits with 6 figure incomes, does not mean we like our jobs any less or more than you do. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>So for crying out loud. Tip! Even if it is 1.00. Thank you :) </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>Kat Bartonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05965877538530868870noreply@blogger.com0