Results matching “false allegations” from Ye Olde Rad Blog III

An article posted in last week's NY Times has been gnawing at me all weekend. It cites a study performed by two Israelis & a "leading American expert on the psychology of motivation." The single-page piece is titled » "When a Parent's Love Comes with Conditions" .. or » "When 'I Love You' means 'Do as I Say'."

The article can be summed with the following quote:

"The primary message of all types of conditional parenting is that children must earn a parent's love. A steady diet of that, Rogers warned, and children might eventually need a therapist to provide the unconditional acceptance they didn't get when it counted."

Doesn't it seem odd that a study was required to determine that rationing of love & acceptance (like gasoline during a shortage) based on 'performance' .. is detrimental to children? Duh.

First, conditional love is not love. Let's call it by its real name » manipulation. And it's the worst kind of manipulation, cuz children, especially young ones, are at the mercy of their parents.

Moreover, they do not yet possess the skills necessary to recognize and defend against such insidious tactics  .. from people they're so dependent upon (for eveything).

Now, do you know anyone who enjoys being manipulated? Cuz I don't. Heck, even people who enjoy pain don't like being manipulated. Cuz it doesn't really hurt; it just feels slimy. [Speaking of slime & pain, refer to my comments about boiling a frog near the end.]

Not very difficult to tell the difference, either. Kids (who happen to be particularly sensitive) can spot a fake all-the-way across the coffee shop and will turn away .. while gravitating wholeheartedly to the genuine. You can actually observe this play out.

There are many things a parent can use as leverage to encourage (or discourage) a particular behavior. But love should never be included in the leverage toolkit. Same goes for affection & attention .. things too precious to be used as mere bargaining chips.

Withholding love & affection based on behavior is cruel. Sure, it might elicit the desired response .. in the short term. But the child will grow to resent it (.. as does anybody who's being manipulated). Used consistently and frequently enough, it will instill deep-seated feelings of inadequacy .. that may never go away. (You might even know someone like this .. with deformed self-esteem.)

Many times, when a child is acting out, I'd wager it's *because* he or she is not getting the emotional support they need (from a parent). That would be like telling a hungry child » "Stop fussing or I won't give you any food."

[ In the military, we had a saying » "The beatings will continue until morale improves." Same principle. ]

Whichever side of the great nature vs nurture debate you tend to favor, you always return to » the parents .. as the prime causal agent for how a child turns out .. whether it be on count of their genes or their parenting methods (.. or a combination of both).

We were all kids once. (Well, most of us.) So we all have many years of first-hand experience from which to derive our opinions .. of what works, and what doesn't (.. and what really suks). My point is, it's not rocket science.

Embarked on my first-ever father/son bike ride with the Bug yesterday. We took a leisurely trip around the Back Bay (here in Newport Beach), a popular path where few cars travel. Gorgeous day, too.

His little bike still has training wheels. A bigger one* sits waiting in the garage, but he refuses to ride anything without training wheels. (* Miss Julie picked it up for him in Laguna last month.)

I'm in decent shape .. seeing I've been biking everywhere .. since my license was suspended in June. So my legs feel strong.

The Back Bay loop is 10 miles. So I expected the Bug to be tired afterwards. Surprised me when he insisted on hitting the trampoline soon as we returned.

Used to be I could tire him with a full day of outdoor activity. That doesn't seem to be working so well anymore. Ever since he turned 4 .. he's become impervious. I'm the one who usually tires first.

Speaking of tiring .. last night I slept better than I have in months. Been dragging all day today .. even after a triple-espresso this morning. I made some puttanesca for lunch today. That usually helps. (Carb-loading.)

The loop is mostly flat but has one big down-hill. Made me smile to hear him yelling, "Woo-hoo!" all the way. "That was cool, dad!"

Was doing good until sunset on Father's day. Then it got to me and the blues arrived. Used to resist sadness, fight it. Now I just go with it. Roll with it. Flow with it, like a canoe downstream. (Resisting and fighting just wears me out.) Been here enough times that I know the drill. No big deal.

There's a prophetic verse in Isaiah saying Jesus was ".. a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." So it seems okay to be sad, tho not particularly pleasant. I get kinda numb, distant. Feel like crying.

Been reading a book on Zen a friend gave me. Interesting ideas, perspectives. For example, here's a passage I found particularly thought-provoking.

The context is about rejecting the notion that anything that doesn't involve serious effort (and usually pain-n-suffering) is somehow unworthy or worthless. But the concept can be applied in other ways. See here:

Now there do seem to be times when verve & vigor are appropriate. Times when force works with, and not against nature. As Shakespeare said, "There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." [Julius Caesar, Act 4, scene 3]

But when the tide is not at flood, when mere brawn is up against granite, the effort to go against nature seems more stupid than splendid.

At best, one could say with the French general of the Charge of the Light Brigade, "C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre." To call it splendid is to base one's evaluation of man on his animal strength over what is more characteristically human » his intelligence.

This mis-evaluation is perhaps based on the common distrust of intelligence on the part of those who lack it, as something tricky, cunning and weak-spined. But this mis-evaluation also reduces the standards of human character until they are more applicable to pachyderms and rocks than human beings.

For after all, is the final test of character really just in seeing how much suffering you can endure? Your ability to endure depends on how insensitive you are. But being human is about, above all, being sensitive. And this means, the measure of character becomes, among other things, the quality rather than the quantity of your suffering.

Friends have long suggested I contact the newspapers (such as the LA Times) regarding the ongoing (and continuing) false accusations of child abuse being levied against me. (See previous entry.)

There have been more than a dozen accusations filed with various state agencies (including police departments in 3 different cities). All of which have been deemed "unfounded".

In the past I have contacted my Congressman and State Senator. But that seemed to do little good. (They simply forwarded my complaints to the court. Won't be voting for them, you can be sure.) So yesterday I contacted the Press.

Don't know if they will help (or know somebody who can). But I'm desperate and don't know where else to turn. This has been going on for way too long, and it's damaging my son.

Making a false police report (btw) is a crime.

Everybody familiar with the details of the case have two feelings in common:

Woke at midnight .. to a disturbing dream. (Didn't get back to sleep 'til 3:30.) Mighta had something to do with the call I received yesterday .. from a detective at Newport Beach PD. (The numbers of several detectives are programmed into my cell .. all of whom contacted me first.)

Or maybe it was the Restraining Order I got last week (my 3rd) .. that's preventing me from seeing my son. This stuff is emotionally exhausting.

Today's word-of-the-day » unfounded. Why do I feel like I've been here before? Must be having a dang déjà vu (again).

In my years of dealing with the legal system (none of which I would characterize as particularly pleasant), it has been my experience that detectives are the best at getting to the bottom of things.

One of the first things I do when being interviewed by a detective is to volunteer to take a lie-detector (polygraph) test .. if it will help them determine my innocence .. that I have NOT done the horrible things I am accused of (yet again). I volunteer to stay for however they like, and to answer whatever questions they deem appropriate.

My friends are all incensed by a sense of injustice. I am too sad (for our son) to feel angry. He is being dragged before many different people at various facilities, where they're pulling down his pants and photographing his private parts .. before asking him disturbing questions.

Stories like Finding Nemo, where a dad crosses an entire ocean, battling sharks & other monsters, in order to be there for his son .. I know where those stories come from. I know that ocean. (Seems like it never ends.)

Cool dream last night. Ultra-realistic & vivid. » In a cozy cabin set up in the mountains, I'm cooking a batch of my world-famous puttanesca .. when shortly before sunset I hear this heavenly singing. So I set down my big wooden spoon and go investigate.

Opening the front door, I see (with snow-capped mountains framing the distant backdrop) Pavarotti and another fellow walking up the dirt path. [ No, I don't own any Pavarotti CDs. ]

They're singing (with great passion) the most beautiful songs I've ever heard (Italian opera). Indescribably gorgeous. (Think » sex for your ears.)

Pavarotti has a huge smile on his face. Beaming. He seems like the happiest man in the world. Both men are wearing hiking clothes.

With hand outstretched, Pavarotti calls out, "My friend, forgive the intrusion, but we've been following this wonderful aroma for many kilometers."

I tell him what I'm fixing and Pavarotti responds with a proposition, "If you will kindly fix us each a small plate, we will sing for you *two* songs while you cook, another two while we eat, and two more after dinner." (each time emphasizing the word » two)

While I ponder his offer, Pavarotti saunters up and says in my ear (quite matter-of-factly), "Many think I'm the greatest singer ever, but actually my cousin here is much better. He just couldn't tolerate the music industry and its shenanigans."

Other than how beautiful the singing sounds, the most poignant part of my dream is how happy Pavarotti seems. Downright radiant, he never stops smiling.

Of course, I invite them in. While Pavarotti warms himself by the fire, I ask his cousin, "Is he always this happy?" "Yes," he answers, "I think there's something wrong with him." (which makes me smile)

Got roped into a discussion this weekend .. about the ups-n-downs of dating single-parents .. something with which I have first-hand experience (.. on both sides of that fence).

Divorce is popular here in Southern California. So your chances of meeting an available single-parent are higher here than in other parts of the country.

"Here's a single dad!" called out an acquaintance as I walked by. (.. his table at the coffee shop)

I actually felt somebody grab my arm before I heard his voice. He pulled me over. Hadn't seen him in months. Very athletic fellow. (Always in stellar shape.)

I didn't however, know any of his 3 friends. Two girls & one other guy were seated with him. All seemed very nice, 30-something. None had any kids, nor ever been married. (I remember those days .. sorta.)

Muscles got a chair for me from another table. As I sipped my coffee, they brought me up to speed, sharing some of their experiences dating single parents. I could certainly relate, having had many good experiences of my own. (Kids usually like me, and I certainly enjoy them.)

The biggest turn-off (in my opinion) is when a single mom puts her kid(s) second .. after the relationship with the new guy. Never been able to respect a mom who did that .. no matter how flattering it might seem.

Yet the person who dates a single-parent (as the people seated at this table clearly expressed) don't want to be relegated to an after-thought. They don't want to feel unimportant. So it's not an easy line to tread.

As a single parent, I know that you can't help but feel fondly about people who go out of their way to be nice to your kids. Those who do (go out of their way) get head-of-the-line privileges (so to speak). This is not a conscious decision, mind you. Rather a parent can't help but appreciate (in the fullest sense of the word) those who are nice to our kids (I explained).

Been researching MODx, a Content Management System (CMS) .. similar to Drupal and Joomla .. tho considerably more 'flexible.'

Being a publisher-of-content myself means I'm always on-the-lookout for cool, new publishing tools. Movable Type has been my tool-of-choice since 2003, but I'm always open to trying new things.

The thing I don't like about Movable Type is that it's difficult to customize. You're limited to one of their pre-designed templates. Even minor tweaking is a nightmare. And it suks when your site looks like so many others.

Before we discuss CMS'es, you should know that Drupal won the Packt Publishing award for best Open Source CMS two years running (both 2007 & 2008). These awards were chosen by guys who know their CMS'es. Tho the judges admit:

There isn't necessarily one CMS that is "the best," but rather the best is the one that best fits a user's needs.

It's unlikely the judges actually used all the CMS'es themselves, since there are so many. Joomla came in second. It's probably the single most popular CMS out there.

Today is Martin Luther King day. I find it interesting (and coincidental) that the very next day we swear-in our first black president. What are the odds these two (seemingly unrelated) days/events would occur consecutively?

I've always been good in math. I got the highest grade, for example, in my (first) Calculus class .. even after I opted to skip pre-Calculus, and hadn't had a math class in/for 10 years. (Pre-Calc is now a mandatory prerequisite, I hear.)

I also got the highest grade in my Statistics class (taken the same semester as Calculus). The professor who taught my 'Stats' class taught two classes that semester. He told me I got the highest grade in *both* classes.

Depending on how you categorize the variables, the odds of these two days/events occurring consecutively..

.. would be between 1-in-365 (the number of days in a year) and 1-in-133,225 (which = 365x365, since each event could theoretically fall on any given day).

I could spend today's entire entry discussing the nuances associated with probability & statistics, but my point is » the odds are miniscule .. no matter how you dice the math.

My brain, for some reason, seems predisposed to identify the statistical curios associated with seemingly unrelated events ('coincidences'). It's not something I try to do, mind you. Just seems to occur on its own.

We know that the inauguration date would've been the same whether Obama or McCain was elected. And (we know that) MLK could've been born on any day. Moreover, his birth (which we celebrate with today's holiday) obviously had nothing to do with our presidential inauguration.

So the proximity of these two events seem totally unrelated (from a design standpoint). Yet in reality, and certainly in influence, they are obviously very much related. So much so that many feel the accomplishments of one man could not exist without the efforts of the other. (See my point?)

I'm not drawing any conclusions .. merely identifying a curious coincidence. And it's obvious the work MLK did back in the 60's preceded Obama's rise to the presidency (chronologically). So even the ordering of the consecutive days aligns correctly with historical events.

I like the coffee shop for its social aspect as much as I do for the caffeine. It's usually crowded, and there never seems to be enough tables. I've met many people there by asking, "Can I sit with you until a table opens up?" Nothing like sitting with interesting people, and hearing their stories while they're amp'ed-up on caffeine. =)

On days when I have the Bug, I bring along some children's books. (I've learned a lot about children's books over the years.) It used to be I was the only one, but now I see other parents doing the same.

One guy even shared saying, "My wife saw you reading to your son. Now she makes me bring books for our daughter." =)

Normally the Bug is friendly and engaging. Many have commented on his ability (for such a little kid) to carry on conversations with adults.

[One lady mentioned taking her similarly-aged son to weekly speech-development sessions after talking to the Bug .. cuz her son wasn't yet making full sentences.]

But during our reading-time, he doesn't want to engage with anyone, nor does he want me to converse with friends. He has even placed his hand over my mouth and said, "Don't talk, dada. Read!" (sounding more like 'ReeEEED!')

Of course, I feel bad for the nice folks who stop by our table, merely wanting to engage him for a minute and say hello .. especially after they haven't seen him for a while. They don't know it's not personal, but merely bad timing.

Earlier this week, I noticed a couple who seemed enchanted with him as he made the rounds, saying hello to different friends (seated at different tables), showing off his new pirate shirt (that his dada got for him).

Spent all day in court today. I hate that place. Been there so many times. Have wasted so much of my life (and money) there.

I want to say I won, but reality is I merely didn't lose .. again. (Well, sorta.) I lost nearly a month with the Bug. Or maybe I should say, he lost a month with his dad. (Not the first time this has happened.)

There is a "system" in place, which appears to be begging to be abused/manipulated. And of course, some unscrupulous people are only too eager to oblige .. time & time & time again. And all the while, it's the little ones who suffer.

The key word that stuck out today was » "tragic". That's the word which resonated with me .. and still resonates. Because it *is* tragic. Woefully tragic.

I get the Bug tomorrow morning. I have promised him I'll "always come back" .. no matter what.

But something definitely shifted today. Serious cracks have appeared in the opposition. The spotlight has turned toward these cracks. And now we have a pattern. A history. Doncha know I wanted to say, "I tried to tell ya," .. (but I didn't).

Just returned from the police station. I'm still buzzing. Very emotional stuff. Received a call earlier this afternoon .. not from a police officer, but from a full detective, asking me to come in.

Of course, this isn't the first time a detective has called for an interview, tho this is the first time they asked me to come in.

My saga continues yet anew. I have been accused (again) of the most horrible, vile, despicable acts you could imagine. I cannot even say the words aloud. What kind of mind can even come up with this stuff?

All went well. (As usual.) I have been cleared. (Yet again.) This time it was a lady-detective. She was very nice to me (just like the other detectives, who were understanding of my plight).

But they have a job to do .. and when accusations are made (no matter how absurd) they must investigate. In fact, many people have been involved in this particular investigation .. from various professional disciplines.