Ok, I know you all remember the seething post (since I think it was actually the last one). Do you want to know what causes me to seethe? Some of you do, some of you don't. If you are one of the "don't club" please fast forward to tomorrow's post.

I'll tell you a story that happened to me in my youth, this will give you an idea what causes me to seethe. When I was 9 and in 4th grade, I was in Girl Scouts. Not particularly because I wanted to be in Girl Scouts, but because everyone else was in Girl Scouts and so I had to be part of the group to be accepted. Being accepted by others really matter a lot to me when I was a kid, and frankly, it has most of my life.

There was this kid named Sandra Somethingorother that none of the kids liked and no one ever played with if at all possible. She was morbidly obese, a klutz, not particularly attractive and had a creepy personality to boot. To put it bluntly, she had no friends. I wasn't exactly Ms. Congeniality either, but I had some friends, was not fat, was extremely athletic and had some semblance of attractiveness going on there.

For some reason I attracted the "not so lovable/likable kids" when I was a kid. All the cast offs gravitated toward me even though I did not particularly want them doing that. The Rebecca Randrup story is a prime example of a social cast off latching on to me. Alex Pilobosian and Gregory Assadorian come to mind too (yes they were both Armenian).

I am not sure if Sandra had some fantasy in her head about being my friend or what exactly was going on, but she had been approaching me for several days (maybe even a week or two) during recess and lunch and attempting to hang with me. At first I was kind of oblivious to the fact that she was trying to hang with me because I thought she was just hanging on the peripheral edge of the group. The reality is, I never caught on to what exactly was going on with Sandra because I never paid a moment of any kind of attention to her. That was how little I paid attention to Sandra or even knew she was in or around a group activity I happened to be hanging around in at the moment.

So one day, there we all are in the MPR at school doing some dumb ass thing for Girl Scouts when one of the teachers (not mine), called me over to her and sat me down. She proceeded to ask me if I was angry for some reason with Sandra Somethingorother. I had to ask her to tell me who Sandra Somethingorother was because I honestly did not know who she was talking about. When she pointed her out across the room, I was like "Her? No, I don't even know her." The teacher then got this funny and confused look on her face and then said "Did you hit her in the stomach just a little bit ago?"  That was when I got the funny and confused look on my face. Of course I said "No."

She then proceeded to go off on me about why hitting other children wasn't ok. I just sat there stunned, looking between her and Sandra as if they all possessed 3 heads each. Every time Sandra looked over at me getting a new asshole chewed by this teacher, she looked down at the floor and acted all guilty. Every time the teacher would ask me a question like "Why do you think it is ok to hit other children?"  I would attempt to say "but I didn't hit her, I don't even know her, let alone play with her", and with that barely out of my mouth, she would continue to go off on me some more about physically assaulting other children.

Finally, for a split second, I got through to this woman.  I think she finally heard me saying I hadn't done what I was being accused of doing. She stopped, told me to wait there and went across the room to talk with Sandra. I of course could see them talking but the only reason I knew they were talking about Sandra being hit in the stomach was because Sandra grabbed her stomach and began to pretend that it hurt. Sandra also couldn't look over at me cause every time she attempted to look my way, I was staring right at her. That of course made her have to look down in shame and guilt because she surely could not look me in the eye.

Finally the teacher came back over and went off on me some more, she then brought another teacher over and they talked about calling my mother (I was cool with that, I knew my mom would believe me because she knew me better than they did... I have to admit that my mother was loyal about things like this, she would believe you if you told her you didn't do something when you hadn't done it, amazingly she somehow knew when you were lying too and then you got it for not only doing the dastardly deed, you got it for lying about it too).

All this time I was adamantly denying ever being any closer than walking past Sandra in the hall all day long let alone punching her. They are beginning to think I have maybe blocked out my evil deed. They are making me begin to question whether I did it or not. Here I am, 9 years old, they are making me began to think that maybe I am hitting other children in some kind of daze as I walk down the halls of Easterby Elementary.

That summer before 4th grade, I had had a pretty serious head injury. My brother had slammed a sledge hammer into the top of my head and crushed my skull. It required several stitches and I still have a scar and a deep indentation there on the crown of my head to this day. I was never knocked out from it, but I was stunned and I had a concussion from the event. In school, it caused me to have some learning disabilities, but it never took my memory away. If anything, I had a memory that was sharp and intensely clear.

I think these teachers were trying to blame my behavior on the injury. This injury was pretty apparent because the top of my head was shaved and I looked kind of weird. They were beginning to make me feel like a freak. Mind you that neither one of these teachers were my teacher and neither of them knew me from Adam.

In this whole sorted incident, as the whole thing progressed, as it began to dawn on me that I was in trouble (serious trouble btw) for something I hadn't done, I began to seethe inside. The more I tried to say I hadn't done it, the more they accused me of hitting Sandra.  The funny part was, normally I would have been so frustrated at that point that I would have been crying. I wasn't crying and the reason I wasn't crying was because I knew that I had to stay level headed because that shit headed little fuck who had just blown whatever chances she may have ever had at being my friend wasn't going to stop lying about me at this point. It had blown so far out of proportion at this point that she couldn't back down and say she was lying without looking like a total psycho freak to the teachers.

So I was screwed and I knew it. The teachers were thinking it was me who was being the psycho freak and I knew that too. And I had no way to prove my innocence either. It was her word against mine. My anger at her was growing by leaps and bounds at this point and I surely at that point wished I could hit her in the stomach. I was seething to say the least.

I am not sure where my troop leader was all this time I was being interrogated by these two teachers, but somehow, miraculously she showed up while they were trying to decide how I should be punished for this thing I did not do. She was attempting to save me from them and promised to have a talk with my mom and me about the whole thing. They told her they had already called my mom and she was on her way there now.

This was only getting worse for me. At this point I decided these teachers were reactionary assholes, although I have to say that I would not have used the term reactionary asshole at the age of nine. I would have thought they were going way over board and were being mean to me without having really researched this whole thing deeper. Like neither one of them asked the bitch if she had any witnesses to my supposed attack on her bulbulous ass.

At this point, the teachers were trying to decide if I was going to be suspended from school or have to do detention or whatever and my troop leader is assuring them that I am a little different/odd, that's true, but that I am not a violent child and that I have no history of attacking other children even when provoked.

Finally my mom shows up. She's pissed because she has been called there in the first place, she takes me aside with my troop leader and asks me if I did what Sandra said I did. That's when I started to cry and get so upset. All that seething frustration came pouring out of me then. I of course told them the truth, that I had indeed not hit that lying piece of shit like she was accusing me of doing.

Mom and my troop leader talked alone for a moment and then went over and talked with the two teachers. My mom was a teacher, so she knew how to talk to other teachers on their level and not just as a parent. I didn't hear any of their conversations, all I knew was that finally Mom came to get me and I went home with her, those two teachers still glaring at me in judgment.

I remember taking one last look at Sandra as we walked past her to leavethe MPR, she had this sheepish look on her routundly stupid, ugly face. I remember thinking that one day I would be vindicated for her lie against me. One day she would be punished for lying about me.  I am sure she has been punished in some way after 43 years. At least that is what I tell myself. My one real vindication in all this is that she was born ugly and it would take a buttload of plastic surgery to make her look even a tenth as good as I did on a very bad day.

As you can see, I still have some anger over this incident. If there is one thing I hate, it's being lied to and/or about. Which is why I am seething right now.

Ok, dinner is ready to put on the table now. Hope everyone is having a lovely Wednesday evening <grin>.

Ciao!