Ketchup the Writerer

People make me so angry sometimes. So annoyed that I may never go to a particular restaurant ever again! Why can’t my brother go anywhere with out some douche bag judging him?

Here is the story:

Mom, Tony and I were at Pizza Hut having lunch. Tony loves pizza and he was particularly happy because he won a race against me to get there. The idea was I’d pick up some books I ordered from the book store and see if I would beat him and my mom there, which he did. Mom ordered him the buffet and because he is independent and likes to do things himself, he got his own food. Mom offered to help, but knowing if she interfered he would get irritated and cause a big upset. He has one ear splitting scream and is known to throw, lie down on the floor and not get up, etc, etc…On Tony’s second trip, (we sent him to get more pizza and pasta so he would not eat our own pizzas) he came back to the table with his plate heaping full of pizza, breadsticks, pasta and dripping with salad dressing. (He loves salad dressing) and the store owner no less, got mad at him for dripping on the floor, saying my mom should have been helping him and she would have gotten him a tray and blahbeddy blah. My mom went up to her and tried to explain that he was special needs and wanted to be independent so to avoid a meltdown she let him try on his own, but the lady wouldn’t listen. She made Tony feel like a little kid, less than human and talked about him like he wasn’t even there. I knew Tony understood when he started worrying and compulsively cleaning up the spills on the table, followed by profusely apologising. This however, wasn’t as bad as some incidents.

About six of seven years ago, I was at the movie theatre with my family and my brother excited about seeing Spiderman was being a bit loud, a bit too loud for some cantankerous overweight feral, (I could use much stronger words…) Became upset with my brothers behaviour and demanded that my brother be quiet or leave! A shouting match, mixed with curse words ensued starting with mom and ending with mom, me and the ugly man caused such a ruckus we were all asked to leave. This man said something I will never forget. “Put him into a cage where he belongs!” These words still haunt me to this day. I can hear him say it as clear as a bell. It still makes me angry.

Normality is a confounding subject. Why is it if you are not normal you’re expected to either attempt as much as possible to achieve normality or become invisible so the supposed norm isn’t interrupted by your difference? As far as I’m concerned normal, as well as its synonyms shouldn’t even be available in the English language. The thing I loved most about most of my university classes is that lectures banned the use of it or encouraged students to come up with a different word.

Also why are special needs people treated differently? It’s like they are there, but no one wants to see them at the same time. It’s like the olden days when my mom said children were seen not heard. It’s the same for special needs people. I got hell from a lady with a big family and a car heaping full of stuff because I sent her away when I was closing my till at work on day, not because she was trying to be sneaky and go through because apparently if there is no “lane closed sign she can.” (We have different rules on that matter). She was mad because when a lady with her special needs son came to my till shortly after and not immediately noticing my lane closed sign asked if they could come though I said it was OK. Why? Because I have a soft spot for special needs children. I know how tough it is when you are shopping with someone with disabilities, (the stares you get for starters), but I know that some special needs children like my brother when they are over stimulated or something is bothering them, they tend to have meltdowns. I was trying to help the lady hopefully avoid this, meanwhile thinking hoping that I am not being to presumptuous about her son and his disabilities and what not.

So of course when the lady with the family noticed she said. “Oh you can help her, but not us?” The way she suggested it to me sounded like it was a just on lady not a mother or aid-worker with a special needs child. I felt like I was being ostracised because I wouldn’t help a normal family. So I said “she only had a few items and they have strict rules at work that you must be done on time”, but I left the special needs thing out because the lady with her special child was still there and I didn’t her to think I was just helping the mother because her son was special needs. I wanted to help because I felt it was the right thing to do! After all of this the lady with a big cart of stuff had the nerve to say I was prejudice because she was Native American. First off this had nothing to do with race, the lady and her son were East Indian, not that it matters. It had nothing to do with the amount of stuff she had. If I am prejudice it’s against people who have no tolerance towards the handicapped or play the stupid race card. I digress…I told other cashiers and some other associates and they said I did a nice thing. So there lady with big family cart full of stuff who tries to sneak into my till and then thinks I am racist! Rah! If she did end up complaining I’d tell them the big long spiel I wrote down. LANE CLOSED!

Hopefully I am done ranting on this subject! However, if I were in politics or what ever I’d definitely campaign for special needs people! They need more funding to make things accessible for them enjoy life like anyone else, they need respect. They are human too, but I guess some people are so wrapped up in their normal lives they forget about them, don’t see them or don’t care about them or anything abnormal and in the end it makes me very sad.

I guess this is random putting up a story after my long ranting session, but it kind of has to do with being prejudice. The character Kassy is treated like dirt because she can’t write to either Carly’s or James standards. Kassy is one who thinks she is a writer, but isn’t. Although I don’t think I put that in this fragment. It is because of this she is seen as abnormal and one of the characters James in particular is mean to her because of it. While Carly knows the behaviour is inexcusable she still lets it continue for some reason…almost amused by it, acting like its not even happening. I read too much into my stuff I guess.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Ketchup the Writerer

James sits across from me as surly as ever, Sam sits beside me rolling a ball point pen back and forth across the table. The pen clicks and clacks as it rolls. He was lost in thought, absorbed in his own world as usual. I sit there staring into space.
“Carly!” (a voice behind me) Kassy the Writerer exclaims.
“How are you?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
James glares at her, his eyes squinting though his black framed glasses, his chocolate brown eyes dark and mean.
“Hi James!” she waves her hand up in friendly wave.
He stares back at her. “Did any of us say you could sit down with us?”
“I-I haven’t sit down yet,” she replies awkwardly.
“Well are you going to sit down or what?”
She slowly sits on the chair beside me.
“I J-just wrote another chapter in my story,” Kassy says attempting to make conversation.
Sam continues to roll the pen.
“Is this your friend?” She asks pointing at Sam. She smiles awkwardly.
“Oh yeah,” I reply. “He is my fiancé, Sam,” I smile awkwardly.
The pen stops rolling. Sam looks at me.
“Uh Sam, this is Kassy. Kassy this is Sam,” I say.
“Oh…”
Whapp! A ketchup packet thuds on her left ear.
James smirks, Sam snorts, I sigh, Kassy cries.
“James are you bored or something?”
“The ketchup hurt me,” Kassy sobbed.
“Are you allergic to tomatoes?” Sam asks.
“No, just ketchup,” she replies.

P.S. I’ve been writing more lately :)

12/100!!!