MBC11

• March Blog Challenge •
Day 11: Last book you read

For those of you unfamiliar with Damien Echols and the ‘West Memphis Three’ here is some background.

Let it be known that I have researched this case extensively. It takes more than a celebrity endorsement or a buzzworthy film for me jump on the bandwagon. I’ve done my homework.

20130311-234038.jpg

West Memphis, AR is ‘right across the bridge’ from downtown Memphis. At the time of the tragic deaths, I was the same age as those three little boys, only six years old. The killer[s] of Stevie Branch, Christopher Byers, and Michael Moore literally got away with murder.

This case is one that’s been on my radar for years. Not only do I have an inherent understanding of life in the Bible Belt of the deep south, but I know all too well what it’s like to be on the fringe in high school under these conditions. Deviation from the mainstream is often viewed with ignorance, scorn, fear, or all of the above. A wardrobe filled with black and a taste for hardcore music solicit stares. The whispers begin. Interest in counterculture and alternative spiritualities really gets people talking. Society eyes the stereotypical ostracized teenager [outcast, freak, weird, scary, etc.] with suspicion, which quickly escalates into a mob mentality when a scapegoat is needed. Guilty until proven innocent. Toss a bunch of ideas around and see if anything sticks. No matter how absurd the claim, once the seed is planted, the damage is done. Some people get railroaded without ever knowing what hit them. Rights get violated. Not everyone is equal in the eyes of the law. Preposterous allegations become fact while irrefutable evidence to the contrary never sees the light of day.

20130312-111947.jpg
Don’t even get me started on the colossal failure of the judicial system….

I leave you with a handful of quotes from within the pages and two critical reviews that resonated with me.

“Everyone puts on their Sunday best and pays tribute to religion’s slaughterhouse and then dines on a cannibal communion. Education is foreign to the sunburned beasts of burden, and the painkiller comes in black-labeled Tennessee bottles. No one here moves quickly, but everyone moves with absolute certainty.”

“I’ve seen men who were haunted to the point of madness by things that never were and things that should have been….The ghosts in fire freeze and the ghosts in ice burn. Some died long ago; some were never born. Some ride the blood in my veins until it reaches my brain. Sometimes I even mistake myself for one. Sometimes I am one.”

“I want a life of strife, lust, striving, seeking, struggling, and debauchery.”

“Any friendship that is worth it’s weight is like a dark and secret place where you hide bits of yourself. The door can be opened only by the two people who have the key, and you carry it with you wherever you go. Magnify that by a billion, and you begin to get an idea of what marriage is like.”

~

“Damien Echols spent eighteen years on death row for murders he did not commit. Somehow, in the depths of his unspeakable nightmare, he found the courage and strength not only to survive, but to grow, to create, to forgive, and to understand. Life After Death is a brilliant, haunting, painful, and uplifting narrative of a hopeless childhood, a wrongful conviction, a brutal incarceration, and the beginning of a new life.” – John Grisham

“The life of Damien Echols is a journey similar to that of the metal that becomes a samurai’s sword. Heated and pounded until it becomes hardened, it can hold its edge for centuries. It is incredible that Damien endured and survived one of the most tragic miscarriages of American justice, and emerged such a centered, articulate and extraordinary man and writer. Life After Death proves that he paid dearly for his wisdom. – Henry Rollins

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

Terrible Awful: 2011 edition

No word exists in the English language to quantify how abominable, appalling, atrocious, bad, calamitous, deplorable, deplorable, dreadful, horrible, intolerable, miserable, repulsive, tragic, unbearable, and wretched year 2011 was for me.  Combine every adjective you just read and multiply it by a million.  That’s my year!  We’ll steal Minnie Jackson’s terminology and refer to it as the ‘Terrible Awful.’ 

Temporary catharsis is all I seek.  Factors beyond my control dictate the terms for certain grievances….and I have no choice other than to carry them with me into the new year.  Obviously there is a massive Terrible Awful that makes all others pale in comparison– and some of these seem more innocuous than others– but this is my time to complain.

Minnie's done somethin' Terrible Awful!

So let’s knockout my woeful [and oftentimes incensed] lamentations as quickly as possible.  Without further ado, 11 things I despised about 2011:

1)  Sloane versus Child ‘Welfare’ Services.  I’m not even going to dignify them with three sentences so we’ll end here at two.

2)  Never in my life do I want to make another appearance in a courtroom in the county of San Luis Obispo.  Much to my chagrin I can think of at least two more dates where I’ll be scheduled to appear.  Whether it’s custody issues, my divorce, or testifying in another case the legal process drags on ad infinitum.  This is neither the time nor the place for me to discuss why I’m a VIP in the courts here, but I wanted to take this opportunity to assure you that I’m not a criminal– my little wrists have never felt the cold metal of handcuffs!– nor have I been charged with anything.  I’m a law abiding citizen who has done nothing wrong, though as you can imagine from the categories I mentioned above this is seemingly endless red tape.

3)  My marriage came to a screeching halt.  While I’m not divorced [see #4], it’s completely over, and that upsets me tremendously.  Will and I were estranged for over three years of our marriage so I’m used to him not being in the picture.  Yet I was [naive and foolish] so hopeful that our daughter could allow us to have a fresh start….for a very intelligent woman isn’t that a stupid thought?  And it’s not myself I worry about– I’m fiercely independent and prefer being unattached– but my children.  They deserve a loving and attentive father who provides for them, a father who treats their mother with courtesy and respect even though they are no longer involved.  I want to be able to co-parent and have a dear friend in my former spouse.  Given the circumstances that simply can’t happen.  We’ll never be a Bruce and Demi.  The union of Sloane and Will didn’t just succumb to ‘irreconcilable differences’ or fizzle and fade.  How do I explain this to the kids?  “Sorry Adam, Daddy can’t come with you to Father/Son day at school because it violates the terms of the restraining order.” 

4)  Residency requirements are not my friend in the state of California.  Until the marriage is dissolved on paper, any custody issues are infinitely more complex, as is anything that pertains to domestic violence.  I want to give birth to Tatum and come to our cozy apartment to recuperate and spend quality time with my children.  My biggest concern should be separation anxiety from my infant when I return to work, not dealing with a divorce.  Because as luck would have it– of course!– I don’t exist on paper in the state of California until one day before Tatum’s arrival.

14 month old Adam in the CAR wearing his cow suit. I sure do miss my CAR. Having a CAR is a very nice thing.

5)  Being homeless– can we say major no bueno?  Granted, I was never on the streets panhandling and sleeping on cardboard…but there was a period of two and a half weeks where Adam and I lived in a motel.  I cannot even begin to describe to you how agonizing and stressful it is to not know where you are going to sleep past the next few nights, especially when you have a child.  The ‘transient’ time between my unexpected departure from the women’s shelter and my joyous arrival in my apartment was brutal.  And the troubles hadn’t even started!

6)  Would you be surprised if I told you I was unbelievably homesick?  Between a period of not having a home– literally– and being 3000 miles away from the place I’ve known as home for the first quarter century of my life.  The overwhelming majority of the amazing people I call friends are east of the Mississippi River clustered around the Hernando DeSoto Bridge [a.k.a. the new bridge].  I even miss Memphis.  Around here all the financial establishments sound so….corporate.  How could I possibly trust anyone with my personal accounting that doesn’t work for Mo’ Money Taxes?

7)  This is quite difficult to discuss but once upon a time I had a car.  Not just any car, a gorgeous BMW X3 in a dazzling silver color.  It was glorious.  Beyond glorious.  When I drove alone the speedometer went to 345943945435943 in no time at all.  When driving with Adam I trusted my safe and reliable vehicle.  Sometime during the hour where Alyssa and I were getting acupuncture in our ears [trying valiantly to cleanse ourselves of bad juju and stress less, unbeknownst to me, my car met its untimely demise while it was a certain someone's DUI chariot.

[[ Sidenote:  When I took this picture I moved his car seat strap down so he would smile.  It's clearly not secure and that's not how he rode while we were actually moving in the vehicle.  You can never be too cautious with clarifying these things. ]]

8)  Sloane, meet poverty.  There is nobody to blame for this except yours truly but I had zero savings when I needed it the most.  Even cheap motels get costly.  Come apartment time, I had to furnish it [though I received tons of generous gifts for which I am so thankful], and then they wanted rent again after already getting the first month and a security deposit?!  Then came the introductory bills for various places.  And Christmas.  Blah, blah, blah.

Absolutely no relevance to this post, but it's a cool picture

9)  This was a lousy, sickly year for my health.  Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritiually, I was simply not healthy– which understandably took its toll.  I should have known what to expect when I went for a ‘wellness checkup’ the second week of January….and slipped on a patch of ice dislocating my knee, almost tearing my MCL, and getting a swollen and inflamed meniscus.  Well then.

10)  What the hell was I thinking when it came to dating?!  My first ex of the year I wish nothing but the best for….it simply ran its course.  We were both reluctant to jump ship and it should have ended a lot sooner.  I thank him for handling it like a gentleman and having the courtesy and respect to not talk poorly of me, just as I do for him.  Next one of my very best friends and I tried our luck at being a couple for two weeks:  epic fail.  Then there was….I’m scared if  even mention it in too much detail I’ll hear a knock at my patio door and he’ll be outside with an ax despite the fact that he’s thousands of miles away.  He’s said it himself he’ll “never stop harassing me.”   Suffice it to say he’s a deranged stalker who is profoundly disturbing and highly unstable.  And finally there was that attempted reconciliation with Will.  That certainly ended well!

11)  People.  Behaving.  Badly.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Be still my heart

image

The view from my patio

I had such grand ambitions for yesterday.  Since I’d already be up early for my prenatal physical [and Adam was being cared for] why not devote the day to getting all my ducks in a row before beginning work?  Not quite.

The doctor whips out her trusty stethoscope and takes a listen to my heart.  She looked alarmed and called for backup from a fellow physician.  After they both hear my ticker they inform me that my heart has an irregular beat and they are concerned.  From the looks on their faces prior to the big diagnostic reveal you’d think they were about to share their discovery that I was terminally ill.  Their advice was to go immediately to the ER for an EKG to eliminate a potentially serious medical issue.  Being the insanely overstressed person I am– all of the sudden I could see, hear, taste, smell, and touch just how in danger I was from dropping dead at any given second.  And then I had a pelvic exam.

Alone and convinced of my imminent demise I walked across the street and got my EKG.  My condition is called PVC [Google it if you really care] which is the fancy clinical term for extra and/or skipped heartbeats.  It’s nothing serious, surprisingly common, and I don’t require any medication.  Huge shocker– brace yourselves– it is exacerbated by stress.

Brandi was kind enough to call while I was there.  Such kindness almost makes up for the fact that the new bus schedule started yesterday and I missed two busses and ultimately had to pay a cab to get me back to my apartment.  C’est la vie.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane