Speaking of Staten Island

OK. I am not from that God forsaken land, but I do have cousins there, and my Grandparents lived there when they were still alive. I have a few aunts and uncles, too.

What I could never understand was why anyone in their right mind would want to live there. Firstly, you have the tolls. $20 Verrazzanno to Brooklyn! Then you have the island-wide traffic. Then you have the bad attitudes. If that’s not enough, you have all these wannabe gangsters everywhere trying to live out Al Pacino fantasies.

It’s a mess. So when we went there this year for my cousin Sherri’s 30th birthday, I was about as excited as you might guess I would be. I went anyway, I mean I love my relatives.

I was raised in PA. So when we visited my grandparents, it was a trek. I remember when we’d get to the bridge, the sky would be orange. There were steamstacks and industry all around, and the air smelled.

Then there was the landfill. It had been the largest in the entire world, but that changed at some point. It was horrible. We’d cross the Goethals Bridge, then head down some highway, I think it was the West Shore Parkway or something. Literally had to drive through miles of dump. And, it was massive. You couldn’t get what I am talking about if you haven’t been there, or seen it from space, which apparently you can.

So my cousins showed me this website with Staten Island News called the Staten Islander. It was okay. I don’t know why he was making such a fuss over it, though. It did not seem very special to me. But it was okay. There were a lot of local interest stories. But that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Why would some person from Pennsylvania, now a New Jerseyan, care at all about what goes on on some hockey puck-sized island?

I do remember going there as a kid. I’m not that old, so don’t think I was there when there were still farms. But there was horseback riding by my family’s homes. And that stinking dump! I don’t know, I guess they got used to it or learned to block it out. Or, convinced themselves it smelled good. The entire island is one sorry lot in a state of denial.

We’d go there for Sunday dinners, sometimes to church, and for holidays. They lived in Huguenot in an old house. It was like a giant swamp back then, with million dollar homes in the middle of a bog. My grandparents’ house was more modest, but it was still big and had six bedrooms. So, we’d all sleep over New Year’s Eve and 4th of July.

Staten Island news is so local, it’s not funny. Like it’ll be about who got married. The island is a lot like a small town, but there are a half million people there. Now that I’m older, I can’t stand the place. The dump is closed and doesn’t smell (much), but all the horse stables are gone and there are sixteen million houses everywhere. Up the block from my cousin’s house, an old farmhouse that was torn down to make way for SIXTEEN units. That’s why I dislike Staten Island and don’t really think much about it. It’s ruined from the days I visited, and I don’t care about the news of who marries whom.

Donation. For what?

I was raised by ex-Mormons who moved out East to get away from it all. From the time I was little, I knew that there were people starving in Africa, and there were a lot of people that desperately needed food.

We also donated our clothing. Once a month, like clockwork, on Sunday, after church (My parents have become Episcopalian) we would march down to the local supermarket and throw all out outgrown clothes into these receptacles that were made of metal.

We did this probably from the time I was born until college. Once I was about 18, I stopped.

I had a bunch of friends from church who would meet us there, and afterwards our Moms would go out to lunch. Ironically, it was during those times hanging out with church friends that I smoked pot.

Anyway, once I was a freshman in college, I no longer did this. Even though I went to college locally in PA, it just got weird. I consider myself spiritual, but I am not really into going to church.

My cousins live on Staten Island. They said for clothing donations on Staten Island, it’s probably best to think twice about using those donation boxes. He claims that the boxes are a big scam. I started researching this myself, at his prompting.

It turns out, some of those clothing donation bins are not for donation. They’re actually run by FOR-PROFIT companies, and no poor person gets anything. Then there are those boxes that are run by charities, but they actually sell the clothes and get the profits from the sale to run their organization. Not exactly what I had in mind.

Always research the place you bring your kids clothes for donation on Staten Island to. It makes a big difference between THINKING you’re helping others and actually facilitating that process and doing so. Staten Island is particularly shady, and there is a lot of criminal activity. While this isn’t a crime, it is immoral to take from people thinking it will help others and use those clothes to get a yacht.

Back in high school, my family explained to me that those clothes we brought every week make their way across town to the young Black and White kids who were in need. But now I really wonder. Is it really so?

I am unsure whether we were ever really helping a single soul. I feel depressed, angry even, that I wasted so many hours of my life, that we all did, or MIGHT HAVE, helping some private for-profit company make money. It literally sickens me.

The best idea I’ve had so far was to rate the boxes. Literally make an app or website that gives information on the boxes. Like, let other people know how much their contributions are really going to make any real change in their communities.

Personally, I find that this subterfuge is the lowest of the low. It’s disgusting. There really isn’t much worse that I can think of. Consider how many families have tons of clothes each year, and it’s not getting where it needs to! I’m going to scream about this from the rooftops until someone listens.

All those clothes we donated. I can imagine some dude at the dealership trading in his old Benz for a new one. Thanks to the unwitting families who just GAVE AWAY wealth in the form of clothing.

Clothing donations are a big issue, in my opinion. There has to be a solution, but aside from the app, I have no idea what.

A Massage? No Way

I hate massages. So when my sister-in-law bought us a gift certificate for in-home couples massage I was anything but enthused. The funny thing was, at their New Year’s Eve party, I specifically said I hate massages. So what does she do? Creates a wedge with my wife. Now I HAVE to go. What would you do?

I am being put in a position. My wife was all ecstatic, but she is just conveniently “forgetting” that she knows I dislike getting massaged. At times like this, I want a divorce. But then I see her sister, practically with horns budding from her forehead, and I realize she’s being manipulated and her sister is taking advantage of her to cause trouble.

Also, I caught the maniacal look in her sister’s eye when they gave us the envelope. She knew it would cause strained relations. If I say something, there’s going to be a war. Her sister has a history of doing this. I specifically said I didn’t want a Graco swing for our daughter (eldest) when she was a baby. So guess who gets us a…wait for it….GRACO swing? The woman is a nastiness bomb.

Why do I NOT like massages? I just don’t. I’ve never had one, and I know I won’t enjoy it. It’s just not my thing. I don’t want another man touching me all over, and I feel weird about a woman other than my wife doing the same. I guess I’m a Generation Y old-fashioned guy.

When I went for physical therapy, I did get soft tissue manipulation as part of my treatment. But it was done at a physical therapy center. It wasn’t a couples thing, my wife was at home or wherever she was.

I actually think she’s cheating. She texts a LOT, and keeps her phone locked. One day she left herself unguarded and I could see in the mirror that she was texting someone and there were pics attached. Who could it be? Maybe it was her sister, and these were just pics of our daughter at her school play? I’m suspicious.

This is why I told you this blog would suck. I should call it my vent-fest.

A Couples Massage might be nice. It could be a great way to spend some time with your significant other. But not me. Not my significant other. It’s just not something I look forward to.

It’s really the principal of the matter. My wife’s sister has been a troublemaker for fourteen years. If I could, I would never speak with her again. When she first met me, her first words were, “Oh, he’s not as cute as Ben!” Ben, being her ex, she was engaged to. I can’t count how many times she’s said things of that nature.

The best of all was when she told me that my wife had called Ben. We were seeing each other for five months. But it turned out Ben had called her for HER birthday, my wife’s Mom had answered the phone and handed it to her. She didn’t even know who it was. Or, so the story goes.

I think they’re trying to drive me mad. This is really too much to bear. The weirdest was when I found my wife’s bra in the car. She claimed it was because she had worn it accidentally to the gym and had to change into a sports bra in the car. Is that believable?

So, I don’t even know if I even WANT a couples massage with my wife. Maybe it’s a deeper issue. I mean, I avoid spending any time with her. She isn’t my type. I’m honest and she’s sneaky like her sister and Mother and Aunts.

My wife is an angry woman, and she won’t go to therapy. I am going twice, weekly. Once for me and once for her. lol It’s a lot deeper than things appear. A couples massage at home is probably a good idea for a couple that isn’t on the path to imminent divorce.

I even know she’s cheating, in my subconscious. I just can’t accept it, not like we were ever close. She married me for my money. Her sister even joked that she should put in a couple of years and then get the big D, and walk away with bundles. These are seedy people, and as hard as I try to explain it to you, it just isn’t going too really hit home. You’d have to meet my wife. But doing so might hurt your brain.

Perhaps I could use a wife who believes in physical therapy. That may solve all my problems. I had a therapist who told me I can’t think my way out of my issues. First of all, it’s my wife’s issues I’m just stuck in, and second of all, what am I supposed to do, literally crawl out of my issues? My wife thinks physical therapy is a waste of time. But she thinks seeing a shrink is good, mostly because the advice I’ve gotten benefits her.

My Daughter’s Gucci Bag

My daughter has a Gucci bag. I bought it for her.

The cost? More than a girl her age should spend on a handbag. My wife was relentless.

I shouldn’t have listened.

My wife shouldn’t be guilting me in front of the kids. Want to know why my daughters are sassy? There you go.

But no one’s asking. She makes it so all they have to do is go to her and then she wedges herself between me and them so they can get their way.

Reality Deniers and Fanatical Thinkers

Did you ever realize that people who deny that diseases exist are not living in reality? I’ve met all kinds of people, but the worst are fanatical adherents to ideas that are just too weird. Like that a disease, one we all know and loathe, isn’t real. It is. I’ve lost relatives to that disease we can’t even name.

My point is, this is fanatical thinking. Is it any different than when people have religious fanatical thoughts? They believe some theory or idea that they are inflexible about. They take lives, but disease and pandemic deniers cost lives. Same difference.

My Sucky Blog

This blog is going to suck. I am just warning you. my name is Jason and I’m native to Pennsylvania. I moved out west after college, and just moved to New jersey because of my job. It’s been real, but anyway, don’t expect literary gold. I’ve never really liked to write, but my therapist said this would be a good idea.

I like that I’m anonymous. It wouldn’t have been so easy being outright about any of this, otherwise.

What do you hope to gain by reading my blog? Or any blog?

I’m just your average, ordinary math and tech geek. I work at one of the best known tech companies on Earth. Let’s dispel some stereotypes. I don’t like Harry Potter. I do love Star Trek. Original series. TNG: cringe. Voyager: cringe cringe. Deep Space 9: cringe cringe cringe.

Despite my geekiness, I am married. I admit I used my wealth to catch a hen. And she laid some eggs. Now we have two little chicks, Dorah and Lilah.

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