WESTPORT CT HUMANE SOCIETY: Not All Cute Kittens And Fluffy Bunnies

                                      Meet KIM.

We’re going to be talking a lot about KIM, so I thought I should properly introduce her to you.

Over the past 20 years, I’ve adopted a lot of animals. Everything from dogs abandoned in garages, to lizards, to flying stray dogs back to the U.S. from Arkansas, and Costa Rica, so they can have a loving home.

Anyone who knows me, knows my level of love and dedication towards animals, and will happily vouch for that.

Loving all animals comes super easy for me. But there’s nothing more special than when you find an animal you feel you share a special connection with. That happened to me 2 days ago.

In the past several months, I decided I wanted to rescue another dog. 

And I thought, what better place to start searching than by going into the local Westport CT. Humane Society. 

The one right on the Post Road, across the street from Trader Joes. 

And the one I also happened to adopt one of my other dogs from, about 15 years ago. My beautiful coonhound, Dixie. Who sadly passed away last year at the age of 14, in my living room, while I held her in my arms.

The first time I had gone to The Humane Society, I went in to see a little dog, and asked if I could just sit with him and see if we liked each other.

From across the room, an authoritative order was barked out by a rather unhappy looking girl named KIM.

‘YOU CANT JUST HANG OUT WITH A DOG. IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN THE DOG, YOU NEED TO FILL OUT AN APPLICATION.’ 

ME: Oh sorry. Since when? I adopted my last dog from here, and I was able to sit with her first, to see if I was interested based on her temperament. I guess that changed. No problem, I’ll fill out the application.’

KIM: ‘You can’t just PLAY with a dog if you’re interested in them.’

Me: ‘Never said I wouldn’t fill out an application if I was interested. I am just surprised because I hadn’t done that several years ago with my dog Dixie. 

At least not that I remember. No problem, I’ll fill out an application.'

The girl continued to have a noticeable snarky, short, attitude for the duration of my visit and inquiries. Not sure she even smiled once, and had a palpably judgmental tone and aura about her, that only a person-to-person interaction could do justice in explaining.

Over the next few days, I came back a few times to look, and while there were many cute dogs there, I didn’t see a dog that would’ve been right for my family dynamic.

A few weeks later, on Wednesday, September 19, I decided to check my phone app to see if there were any new dogs there. 

A dog named Sally immediately jumped off the page and into my heart. 

Perfect in every respect. At least on paper.

I stopped whatever it was that I was doing, jumped in my car, and drove straight to the Westport CT  Humane Society to check her out in person.

I had also noticed the dog I had initially went in there to see, several weeks earlier, (who wasn’t ultimately right for me) was finally adopted! 

That made me really happy.

I walk in to The Humane Society, say Hi, and very happily say…’ I'm so happy to see Chloe was adopted! That made my day! But I'm actually coming in today to see Sally! I don’t even know this dog yet and I'm already in love with her!’

I was talking to a young girl named KIM, who I’ve now had several exchanges with over the weeks.

Exchanges that are continuously, detached, self-righteous, self-important, and straight up cold.

KIM'S response about the dog I came in to see: ‘Sally’s not very friendly. She’s extremely shy, and aloof, so i’m not sure you’re gonna like that…'

Me: ‘Not a problem. I have no problem with shy dogs! She’s probably shy because she’s in concrete cell, hearing other dogs barking around her all day. And just wants to get out of here.'

KIM: (no comment)

Me: 'Can I see her? I also want to fill out another application, (so it’s on record that I came in for her.)'

KIM: ‘No, we can use your old application.’

Me: ‘But that says another dog’s name on it that I was interested in a few weeks ago. They’ll be no record of me coming in for Sally.’

KIM: ‘ It’s fine’.

Me: ‘Um…Ok...Can I go back there just to take a quick peek before you let her out?'

Her: ‘Yes.’

I go back into the kennel room, and she immediately comes right over to the front of the cage, licking my hand, kissing my face through the bars, and basically doing everything an amazing, friendly, loving dog does. 

Couldn’t be any friendlier.

I come out and say…’OMG, I'm already in LOVE with this dog!!!’

I ask a few more questions, and she tells me of all her inoculations, that she has been there for a week, and that’s pretty much it.

I say: ‘Sounds good!’

KIM directs me into one of the small meet and greet rooms.

I wait there, crosslegged on the floor as she brings in Sally.

KIM walks in, with Sally in tow.

KIM sits down with me and Sally, and shuts the door behind her. 

Not even giving me any first interaction time with the dog. 

Sally immediately runs over to me, climbed into my lap, gently jumped all over me and gave me many, many kisses.

Me: ‘This is the dog you said was aloof? Hahahaha Omg she’s SO friendly!!! She’s AWESOME!’ 

 We play, and play….

KIM solemnly sits there, and continues to ask the same questions she asked me a week earlier, that were all written down already on a questionnaire, 

about my current dogs, their personalities, how they play, if they play rough, if i exercise them, how I exercise them, how often I exercise them, if they’re loud dogs, if they bite, if it’s a noisy household (...because 'Sally is jittery’)….etc, etc. etc… 

Understand. Have to make sure the dog will be safe. However, A) that’s why you bring your dogs in to meet each other BEFORE you adopt, 

and B) not one of my answers were met with any type of positivity, or smiles, or even a modicum of genuine excitement in my interest in adopting this dog. 

I’ve had a dozen dogs in my lifetime who all lived to be old and happy and were never crated, or sent to kennels if I were away, and were loved beyond conditionality.

And honestly, the way this girl was treating the interview, it was as if she were interviewing a wife-beater who was trying to be released on parol.

I repeatedly hugged and kissed Sally, and said:

‘This is it. This is my dog!  I cannot WAITTTT to bring her home. 

My family and my other dogs are going to love her SOOOOO MUCH!!! 

I couldn’t stop hugging and kissing her. 

And I said: ‘Done. I'm taking her!!! Tell me, what do I need to do next?!...’

KIM: ‘You can’t take her until you bring in your family and your other dogs.’

Me: ‘ Of course, no problem. I can’t bring my son back today because he’s at school, but I’ll bring my dogs back here today to start the process.’

KIM: ‘I’d rather you not. It’s drizzling and Sally doesn’t like the rain.’

Me: ‘Umm…Ok... So then can I come back here tomorrow? My son doesn’t get out of school until 2:15. But I can be here tomorrow at 2:30 sharp with both him and my dogs!’

KIM: ‘Yeah I’d rather just not do it when it’s drizzling.'

Me: ‘Not a problem! Can I take her out for a walk now? ( it was drizzling then)

Her: ‘Yes’

(?)

I leave the room, and take Sally for a walk. 

Sally loved being outside, in spite of the drizzle, was happy, wagging her tail, and great on the leash.

I take her back and say AGAIN:

Me: ‘Done deal! I'm in LOVE with this dog. I feel like a little kid I'm so excited! Heehee. 

Ok WHAT do I do now?!…. Do I give you money to hold her….???’

KIM: (one word answers) Nope.

Me: ‘Soooo…How do I do this? Just come back here tomorrow with my kids and my dogs and we’ll see if they get along, and I pay you then???’

KIM: ‘Yep.’

Me: ‘Really??? I don’t need to make an appointment or something to secure time with the behavioral specialist or anything?’

KIM: 'Nope. Just bring your family and dogs in together at the same time, any time tomorrow’.

Me: ‘But…. what if someone takes her in that time, can you call me if someone is interested in her so I don’t lose her??’

Her: ‘You’re coming back tomorrow at 2. She’s been here for a week, No one’s going to take her by then.'

Me: ‘ I know….but I don’t want to lose this dog. What can I do to ensure that I won’t lose her?! You wouldn’t give her to someone else in that time, would you?…i mean... ”

Her: ‘I mean, theoretically she can be adopted...’ 

Me: ‘Wait, what do you mean?? How?? ‘I'm here, right now, telling you I DEFINITIVELY WANT this dog. There’s no way to secure that?  Is there a way I can put a hold on her?’

(...I specifically asked, quote, unquote: 

 ‘IS THERE A WAY I CAN PUT A HOLD ON SALLY?')

Her: Stammered a little in her response: 

‘(diverts her eye)..No, because you can’t put a hold on a dog until your family and other dogs come in. Plus you’re coming back tomorrow, so you don’t have to worry about that. And it’s already the end of the day today. 

Just check online tmrw morning. If the picture is still up, she’s still here. But you’ll be back midday, and you already have an application in.’

(Remember, my application was from weeks earlier, with another dog's name on the application).

Me: ‘Really? Hmm. Sooo, ok….Well, Ummm, I just don’t want to lose this dog.'

KIM: *SILENCE

ME:  ‘Well As long as both of us are clear about that, about me wanting this dog.

Alright, I will be back here tomorrow, 2:30 SHARP with my family and dogs!!! 

I'M SO EXCITEDDD!!! I CAN”T WAIT!!! NOT SURE HOW I'M EVEN GOING TO SLEEP TONIGHT! 

I giggle, and say ‘Thank you SO MUCH, see you tomorrow at 2:30!!!’, say goodbye, and walk out.

I drive straight to Petco, picked up her name tag, with address and phone number on it, doggy bed, some bones, and a new collar.

Came home, told my family about Sally, and couldn’t wait for the next day to come. :)

Wednesday, September 20th, I anxiously await for 2:30.

2:00: I check online…Sally still there. Phew. (But of course she is, I think)…they know I'm coming back today, and I have an application filled out along with a verbal contract of returning with my whole entourage, and CLEARLY wanting the dog. 

(The whole time Im thinking, this is a terrible system. Why isn’t there a way to make sure you can hold the dog?!...After going through this whole physical and emotional process?)

2:15:
Got my dogs all saddled up in my car, grabbed my family members, and headed over to the Westport CT Humane Society, park my car out front, and at 2:30 ON THE DOT, I walk into the Humane Society with the biggest, stupidest smile on my face, beaming with happiness about picking up Sally and making her part of my family.

I walk inside, and right in the entrance were about 6 people milling about, filling in sign-in sheets and asking various questions to a few staff members. 

And there was KIM, looking into the kennel window, talking with a couple.

I excitedly walk up to her and frantically wave like a giddy school child who just found out they had a month long vacation.

I give her a big friendly ‘HIIII!!! I'm here with my family and all my dogs to meet Sally!!!’

KIM: (Lifelessly staring at me), Looks at me and says: 

 'Oh Sally was adopted today.’

(…...yep)

Me: ‘What? Wait. Say that again?!’ ( Completely thought I heard her incorrectly.)

Her: ‘ Yeah Sally was adopted today. Someone came in yesterday right after you left. And they came back this morning and put a hold on her. You never put a hold on her.

You never signed a ‘Hold Form’. 

Sorry.’

The 6 guests who were convened around where this was going on, all looked at me and said everything from: 

 ‘Wow…She can’t do that. That’s unbelievable!!!’

To: ‘That is NOT right!!! How dare she. How can she get away with that?!'

Another woman saw me starting to cry, and came over to me with her kids, and hugged me, and said ‘She should be fired. That is AWFUL what she did.'

Me to KIM: ‘I asked you over and over again what I needed to do to ensure the dog wouldn’t be taken from under me, and all you kept saying was to come back tomorrow!!!! I even asked if I could pay for her right then...or put money down to hold her…AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME THERE WAS A HOLD-FORM I NEEDED TO SIGN???’ AND I ASKED!

WORSE THAN THAT…I WAS THE FIRST APPLICANT, AND YOU DON'T, AT ANY POINT, AFTER ANOTHER PERSON COMES IN AND EXPRESSES INTEREST, CALL ME??…OR TELL THEM SOMEONE ELSE WAS ALREADY INTERESTED IN SALLY??? WHEN YOU HAVE MY PHONE NUMBER, AND ALL MY OTHER INFORMATION???? 
JUST FROM A MORAL PERSPECTIVE, YOU WOULDN’T CALL ME TO LET ME KNOW SOMEONE ELSE WAS INTERESTED IN HER, TO GIVE ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO COME BACK EARLIER??? AFTER YOU SAW HOW IN LOVE WITH THIS DOG I WAS???? YOU TAKE ALL MY  INFORMATION, BUT THEN NOT USE IT TO CONTACT ME AFTER I TOLD YOU I’D BE BACK HERE THE NEXT DAY AT 2:30??? WHEN I LIVE RIGHT HERE IN WESTPORT, AND COULD'VE BEEN BACK HERE IN 5 MINUTES?

AND YOU NEVER EVEN TELL THE PEOPLE WHO CAME IN AFTER ME, THAT SOMEONE ELSE HAD THE INTENTION OF COMING BACK THE NEXT DAY TO ADOPT HER???

KIM: ***silence

ME: ‘You’re just gonna stand there and lie, pretending I didn’t have a full blown, hour PLUS-long conversation with you yesterday about coming back to take this dog?!!!! Who is your manager?!! GET YOUR MANAGER!'

KIM: ‘ You never filled out a Hold Form, you can’t have the dog unless you fill out a hold form. The people that came in, filled out a Hold Form.'

Me: ‘YOU NEVER TOLD ME THERE WAS A HOLD FORM, I ASKED AND YOU SAID I COULDN'T HOLD THE DOG UNTIL I BROUGHT MY ANIMALS IN FIRST!!! AND I KEPT ASKING YOU WHAT TO DO TO ENSURE I WOULDN'T LOSE HER !!!'

KIM: *silence

——————————

…And it went on.

And on. 

And on.

She goes in the other room and talks to her manager, Bliss.

And although Bliss was clearly very patient, and kind, and attempted to get the full story from a crying, very upset, me, (and whom I know ultimately felt horribly for what this girl did to me)… in the end did nothing more than patiently listen to me cry and yell.

She also wouldn’t allow both me and Kim in the same room, to hash out the TRUE details together. Because if that were to occur, KIM would never be able to look me in the face and LIE to her boss, which I’m sure she was doing behind that closed door.

As much empathy as I felt Bliss had had, she still didn’t try once to go back and remedy the situation, and make it so my adoption of Sally would even happen. She simply just apologized, and apologized, saying she would personally help me find a dog I loved. 

That’s what I just did, Bliss. I found a dog I loved, and no one's doing one thing to ‘Help’.

So while the offer was probably well-intended, it wasn’t the solution I was looking for. Not even remotely. It wasn’t even on their radar to even try to get Sally back for me.

The Westport CT Humane Society should have righted their wrong, like decent people and places will always do. Especially places and organizations whose cultures and belief system is supposed to be entrenched in love and compassion, and whose business motto is all about finding selfless do-gooders, whose efforts to help others should supersede all other personal qualities. 

The animal rescue / dog adoption world is inherently a humanitarian field. 

No one’s going in there to buy a yacht.

(PS This whole time, Sally was STILL in the kennel while all of this was going on, ---and not paid for yet. It’s not like the dog was already taken away by the couple who came in after I did. So they still could have corrected this with a relatively painless phone call to the other people.)

Either Kim or Bliss SHOULD HAVE called the people who came in after me, and said, ‘I'm so very sorry, but there was apparently a terrible miscommunication at the front desk. Someone had come in for Sally before you, and had an appointment to meet with the animal behavioral specialist, and diligently did everything she was supposed to do to adopt Sally, so... she was first in line for Sally. 

If for some reason it doesn’t work out with her and her existing pets, we’ll be 100% sure to call you guys up seeing you were next in line to get her.'

THEY were the people Bliss or Kim should have said ‘But I’ll do whatever I can to help you find another dog’ to. 

Not me.

But they did nothing of the sort. Just kept saying I never filled out a Hold Form. Making this a clerical issue on MY end, vs. a deliberate attempt at sabotaging my adoption of Sally, on her end. 

It’s 100% the administrative person’s responsibility to be the one to provide the adopter with ALL THE NECESSARY DOCUMENTATION TO FACILITATE THE ADOPTION.

The onus of not signing a Hold Form should NOT have been thrust upon me. Even if it were, I asked for it and was told I couldn’t do that.

KIM LIED. Straight-up LIED.

And as far as I’m concerned, was malicious in her intentions.

From being in the back office with Bliss, and back out into the main public area, I started bawling my eyes out like a 2 year old, told Bliss I’d never come back there again, and that I have every intention of bringing to light the disgusting situation that ensued, and that I’d also be reporting them to the Better Business Bureau.

And that, I will be doing today as well.

Within 20 minutes of me leaving the building crying my eyes out, Bliss was nice enough to call me back, and attempted to try and make some type of resolve. 

Adopting a dog is a lengthy, emotional process that can take months to get right. If this were to happen with say, a piece of furniture you wanted to purchase, or some other inanimate object, this would be a relatively petty issue. Relatively. But regardless, the company or organization would still need to be held accountable for their fuckup. 

But to do this with something that’s living and breathing, with something you either feel a connection to, or not, is borderline evil and malicious 

...when I couldn’t have been any clearer about the strong connection I had felt towards Sally, and my unwavering commitment to see the adoption process through.

That girl Kim knew full-well she didn’t want me having Sally from the get-go. 

Not based on any facts. Not based on any bad referrals. Not based on anything that would jeopardize Sally’s well-being. 

Based on her warped, personal judgement of me. 
Her inaccurate surface bias.

Based on nothing more than being vindictive and controlling, uncommunicative and unaccommodating, cold and dismissive. 

She didn’t want me to have this dog. Plain and simple. Because she’s an unhappy, miserable person, she didn’t want it to be easy for me, the person she didn’t like, for no apparent reason, to have any joy either.

The night before, after I came home to tell my family that we were getting Sally the next day, I even mentioned that to my kids.... That I sensed KIM'S personal disapproval with me for a reason unbeknownst to myself.

I had said, ‘I don’t know why this girl doesn’t like me, but so help me I have a gut feeling that she’s just trying to make this not happen for me.’

My son asked why I felt that way. It was hard to put in words without sounding paranoid.

But as a woman, as a very intuitive woman, my instincts are razor sharp. 

And I promise... that’s what was going on here.

Whatever convoluted story she decided to generate about me as a person, she DECIDED to screw me. Anyone in her position with an ounce of heart, would have easily picked up the phone or dropped me an email to see if my interest in adopting Sally was still there…1 HOUR AFTER I WALKED OUT THEIR DOOR.

1 HOUR. That’s when she said the people who ultimately got Sally, came in. Not a week later. 1 hour.

And with that timeframe in mind, unless she has clinical brain damage, there’s absolutely NO WAY she would have forgotten about me or our conversation about adopting Sally.  

She did nothing to even reach out to me. After all the questions, all the paperwork, all the inquiries, all the info I provided her with, she disregarded it all, like I never, ever expressed any type of commitment in taking Sally home.

If the Westport Humane Society wants to attract an audience of loving, loyal, genuine, warm-hearted people who show commitment, loyalty and compassion with their animals in need, KIM needs to be fired. For she’s a horrible poster girl for an organization with altruistic roots.

I used to think of the Humane Society as a conscientious place steeped in compassion, caring, love and concern. And now those adjectives are disappointingly replaced with cattiness, coldness and callousness. And worse than anything else, a blatant disregard for the proper processes, the proper protocols, and deliberately withholding information that would enable my efforts and commitment in getting this dog adoption to be fully realized.

My experience today at The Westport CT. Humane Society, with KIM specifically, was anything but humane.

It was manipulative, unethical, immoral, malicious and downright cold and disgusting.

I will sadly now only see this organization as nothing more than a divisive, disorganized place that’s not necessarily looking out for the best interests of their dogs, and suiting them accordingly. They’re more focused on administrative details and looking good, than in doing what’s right.

As dramatic as this may sound to the average person, I was crying for the bulk of the day yesterday, and haven’t said much since talking on the phone with the manager Bliss yesterday.

 And while I accept her apologies and efforts to extend her sorrows in my situation, the proper action to get Sally back with me, was simply not even mildly entertained. 

All while this KIM character shockingly still has her job, employed in a place where the utmost requirement for it’s employees should first and foremost be, kindness, and to be of service...not treating warm, loving people willing to adopt from them, as if they are completely invisible and disposable.

While I am deeply saddened by the fact that Sally was wrongfully given to another family, I genuinely hope they love her to death, and Sally will live out her life incredibly happy and cared for with whomever the people are that now live with her.

That said, my feelings towards the The Westport CT Humane Society have been vastly altered. Although they may somewhat care about dogs and rabbits and cats, they obviously don’t really give a rat’s ass about people, their hearts, and upholding any sort of integrity.

For The Love Of Pop-Up Ads

I just spent the last 2.5 hours, dizzyingly navigating my way around an internet article, manically clicking off random, auto-start, pop-up commercials and arrows and boxes that when I clicked them, whisked me to over to some other universe of irritation, in a powerless attempt at reading a 

3 minute article on the wonders of composting toilets.

Remember back when YouTube and the internet were the places you sought refuge in from the onslaught of annoying as fuck commercials that yelled at you to buy something you didn’t need, at 15 minute intervals?

Only every 15 minutes, you say? 

A mere 4x an hour?

Compared to what's going on now in 2017, that seems like some tranquil, zen like dwelling I’d suddenly rather be time-machined back to.

Honestly, the pop-up ads on YouTube, the commercials that come on midway into a heartfelt video, the advertising noise sprinkled throughout every single article and news page opened, aren't even a little funny anymore. 

Imagine being deeply immersed in a scary book or movie, and intermittently, a squad of differently clothed clowns and axe murderers alarmingly jump out of the closet to sell you different heart attack remedies.

It’s like, I'm just trying to walk to the kitchen, to get a simple glass of water, and the hallway I need to walk through is lined with 300 mentally unstable, needy people, nervously rifling car insurance leaflets at me at the speed of an industrial paper-sorter, as they’re slashing my face with obsolete business cards, gluing useless gadgets to my forehead, dipping posters in throw-up and fire ants, and then crumpling them up and jamming them down my esophagus.

Just trying to get a glass of water here. 

I’m considering hiring a few Samoan bodyguards so in the future, I can safely open that video you sent me. 

Maybe my memory is skewed, but back when I was in advertising, I feel like commericals attempted to have a modicum of class. They were carefully analyzed, tediously created, beautifully shot, and placed according to a very specific demographic.

Today, they are more like like writhing, screaming, clots of fast-moving information, that now have the capability of being fire-launched up your ass the minute you sit on the toilet.

Over the years, in an effort to preserve their own species, it seems that ads started to develop a mind of their own, their own ways to intuit that we’re leaving them. Like some bad ex, they somehow know when we’re trying to avoid contact with them, so they show up at other places you might happen to be. Like they've explicated some radical, genetic mutation to battle their impending demise. Attempting to stick to your retina from every possible angle of your life’s periphery like some industrial grade, double-stick Velcro, would stick to a colony of unsheared, dry sheep.

Honestly, I can’t imagine that any of these irritating pop-up ads are even relatively effective because all they ever make anyone wanna buy is mace (for the jerks who keep jumping out of the closets and hallways), a 1-way ticket to a Himalayan mountain top, and a crate of soft-covered books that don't yell at me while I'm reading them. So if that’s what you’re selling, stick to that. 

You’ll make a killing.

Old School. Like Get With The Times, School.

It's so wonderful to not have to raise your hand to talk. 

And so I'll do just that.

Every Sunday night, I’m reminded of how downtrodden and miserable so many kids are at the prospect of going back to school the following Monday. Like they're somehow going back to a child labor camp to mechanically stamp lifeless, paper eyes onto carnival dolls for 8 hours straight. 

If schools were a place of true exploration, a place where they learned to generate ideas, were allowed to speak freely and openly about world issues, and rewarded for questioning the garden-variety vanilla topics, kids would more than likely find school as a place they were watered, and brought back to life.

What we seem to have now, is an itchy blanket of similar-brained higher-ups, not teaching you as much as -- Training You-- to be rated based on your ability to regurgitate standardized information. Information that exists already. What they're ultimately generating, are students who can produce guaranteed, correct answers to questions that were already once asked. 

What we don’t have enough of, are the encouragements of creative thought, mental expeditions, the bravery to ask unique questions, an incentivizing teaching community whose priorities are about fostering an outpouring of highly individualized young adults, who stoically  and fearlessly discuss the 'what ifs', and who have the determination to answer questions in unique ways, developing a thicker skin around being 'wrong' ...because their answers were original, and not cookie cutter, and boldly delve into a new way of what truly works for them, versus staying with an old academic model with antiquated dogmatic teachings. 

No matter what the school, be it privatized or public, there seems to be a serious deficit in the insistence of creative thought, and mandates of fresh approaches and solutions, that would undeniably spark and awaken a sense of wonder, originality and defined purpose in young, developing minds. 

My gut tells me if the latter were the case, and rigid thinking became the thing that was frowned upon, and playful mental exploration, mindfulness, open-ended thinking, and free-associative thoughts were the factors that were rewarded, most kids would be psyched to go back to school.

My point of view isn’t about trying to eliminate the requisite of an education. Quite the opposite. Learning is SO important. 

I myself hope to always be a student in all areas of life, a white belt in all I pursue, learning and being challenged every minute that I’m alive. And I wish the same for my kids, and yours. 

Learning in any area of life, is an endless process and includes far more than text books. 
It includes not just factual information, but a deeper look into our own minds, a newer level of self-discovery and awareness. It requires playing, no matter what your age, exposure to a multitude of lifestyles, facing adversities, asking questions, failing, asking more questions, failing again, asking questions about those questions, asking questions about those question's questions, challenging ‘the obvious', tirelessly researching what you're told, and consistently embracing a buttload of critical thinking and compassion. Cannot forget to be human in all of this searching.

All this needs to happen, and happen more. 

At one time, this learning building called 'school', used to be the only place available for anyone to learn. 

Schools as we know them were first created in 1837. 

Schools were actually created before the first postage stamp was even invented. Yet here we are today, 2017, still sitting in horribly lit classrooms, on coccyx-bone-unfriendly desk chairs, carting around 40lb backpacks like some old Grecian mule, saddled with hours and hours of homework about some book that was written 50 years ago that no one should give a shit about anymore, and thumbing through yellowing pages of tome-sized textbooks that harbor decades of archived student's boogers. 

The approach feels a bit mothball'y.

We currently have more information available to us on a 4"x 2" device in our back pockets, 24 hours a day, than probably most every school and worldwide university combined. And with every passing year, this is exponentially more true.

We can learn anywhere, at any time, about any thing, or anyone. We can laugh while we're learning, and never even get out of bed. And while I'm not recommending living in your sheets, I'm also not recommending living with your SAT tutor.

If you dread getting out of bed every morning to go to your job, then you're at the wrong job. 
If you dread getting out of bed every morning because of school, then you're not being taught the right way.

Yet somehow, parents think that kids don't know about this phone invention. This endless stream of information unifying us with the rest of the world. That the breadth of a Smartphone's abilities somehow skirted their children's awareness. 

That even though kids too, have access to this truly godlike, infinite universe of information via 'their stupid phone', 24 hours a day...in spite of knowing that, parents still feel their kids should be equally excited about sitting in a school learning about Napoleon, Trigonometry, and The Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria. 

That regardless of kid's current ability to learn and peruse whatever it is that interests them, they should still be jumping high in the air with unadulterated excitement, repeatedly kicking their glittery heels together, at the crack of 6 am, like some fairy-dusted leprechaun, as they load their drained, uninspired selves onto a squeaky, yellow prison bus, at the anticipation of being shipped back to the grey, dispirited, fluorescent lit corridors of an institution that grades them and judges them strictly on memory retention, and their ability to return a library book on time. 

A flower cannot blossom with a rubber band tied around it's bud.

These dinosaur schools with their dinosaur curriculums need to be flushed down their dinosaur toilets, along with their dinosaur standardized ACT, SAT, and other groupthink testing methodologies, and while they're at it, also flush their frightening, outmoded notions of cafeteria 'nutrition', which here in America, at best is commercial grade inmate slop. 

The only vibrant color you'll ever see on a cafeteria plate in America will be from the blue dyes in the Slurpees that look like something made by Windex. 

If we want smart, sharp thinkers, we need foods that nourish brains, and mend and generate healthy cells. We need fresh green foods, organic fruits and vegetables, not more breads and crackers and pretzels and pizzas and colorless prefabricated chunks of wan, dead food. I'd personally rather eat the toenail clippings of a sewer inspector.

Breakfast offerings at American learning establishments usually begin with a choice of fried flour balls, (also known as 'Cake In The Morning'), made with a daunting list of petro chemicals and preservatives and dyes, a pot of waxy chocolate chips, and as an added health bonus, it's the size of my head. Don't get me started on the rest of the 'foods' that come off that militarized, submarine grey, Sysco truck. Otherwise we will slip into a greasy ditch of harsh criticisms that I'll never make my way out of.

But while I'm on the subject of Sysco, the proud nutritionless sponsor of most schools, I need to finish.

I've noticed they've recently, (and quite deceptively) re-sided their dingy 18 wheelers, that used to look like an office furniture delivery truck, into trucks with glossy posters that are exploding with an array of colorful fruits and vegetables, attempting to convince parents that their loving children are now eating like they've landed in some sublime, Utopian Paradise of Goodness run by Ghandi, vs. the reality, which is hoards of despondent, grade-worried, sugar-saturated kids sitting slumped over a cafeteria bench, stuffing the same nutritionally debilitated chow into their faces as Charles Manson currently does in California State Prison.

It's time we collectively rethink all this zombie, auto-pilot paper-shuffling, grade-driven, moldy, school life monotony.

We need a new, fresh, healthy school model for the new age of learning. Something that will get everyone excited again, excited to participate in, teachers included, and get these kids off these effing depression and focus pharmaceuticals, which are sadly given as a result of thinking that there's something wrong with your kid because he/she is bored to smithereens. (whatever those little things are). 

In reality their lack of interest is because they're spending their days and nights, their entire childhood, consumed in a confining template of unoriginality, misaligned with their true spirit, their inner colors slowly erased over the years, and their souls molded into a smoldering vat of conformity.

There's one thing my long and strangely varied life has taught me, and lo and behold, it wasn’t learned in school. 

It's that there’s an enormous difference between being educated, and being truly intelligent. 

I know a lot of people who are absolutely brilliant, who weren't conventionally schooled. Conversely, I also know equal amounts of people who -were- conventionally schooled, even Ivy Leagued, who are dim, small-minded, uncurious, set in their way of thinking, and are about as interesting to talk with as talking to a bowl of wet tube socks.

Before good grades, or killer SAT scores, I hope far beyond anything else, that all kids, both big and small, carry with them at all times, a profound, intellectual curiosity and desire to expose and involve themselves in a plurality of subjects. To me, this is learning. 

Doing well on your SAT’s? Well, I'm probably one of the few parents who would feel a quiet shred of disappointment that my kids toiled and clawed their dermis off to remember stuff that has basically zero purpose in this diverse, ever-changing projection called 'real life'.

Last Thursday was the first day back for everyone's kids after summer break. 
Pulling up to the school that morning, looking around at the droves of 'Senior Girls' all dressed the same, all flipping pink boas over their shoulders, all wearing pink skirts, pink socks, and pink shirts, and all with 'SENIOR GIRLZZZZZZZ!!!” unintelligibly scribbled all over their cars with crayons and shaving cream, along with all the other sad-school-attendees, I too couldn't help but feel a little depressed. 

So that's it? That's the culmination of a daunting 12 years of schooling, at one of the supposed ‘BEST SCHOOLS IN THE EAST!’?  
The big finale to show everyone how much you've learned and grown, how far you’ve come, is tritely expressed by acting the same, dressing the same, and expressing yourselves the same exact way as all the other senior girl predecessors, while being collectively and predictably boring and unoriginal.

But hey, ya did good on the SAT’s.

Yay school. Your boring adult-making factory is working. 

Congratulations. 

You get an A.

What On Earth Have We Done

We're dying. While you're crossfitting and latte'ing, there are many a 25 acre glacier sliding into the ocean.

Like the Who's in Whoville, our little voices crying for help seem to fall upon deaf ears. 

What will it take. And how did we get here.

I recently read a quote that said 'The food you're eating is either making you healthier, or it's not'. 

That simple. That true. I'll extend that thought and say, our choices make the world healthier, or they don't. Our choices reach far beyond our one person. 

Far beyond.

The current state of the world, the corruption, pollution, the deforestation, the consumerism, the gluttony, the toxins in our food, the stripping of our oceans, the oblivion of the human race...it's crushing my soul, and everything that lives here. 

I'm not sure I care if you think that's dramatic. It IS dramatic. 100% dramatic.

It's dramatic because there's major drama in the world. Major.

The planet is dying, almost dead, and it's happening so rapidly, so dramatically.

If you don't believe me, open your eyes and look around. Children are born with cancer, young adults suddenly developing brain tumors, and mental disorders are now the new common cold.
Grown ups are living on pharmaceuticals, and drunk every night because there's a pervasive emptiness we're all seemingly part of, and there's barely any fish left in the ocean. Look it up.
Yet every day, people are still posting pictures of their 90 piece sushi dinners and their asses.

Wtf is going on here with our disconnect and involvement in what really matters.

It's 2017, and the general population still has zero idea about how grave the consequences of our collective actions actually are. 

They think it's a vast exaggeration. It's just some radical hippie idea. Not even close to a reality. 

They think the severity of our lives lies strictly within the outcome of a presidential election.

The world has far more than just 2 peanut heads you need to worry about, believe me.

Hundreds of millions of them, to be more specific.

If everyone really knew the dire situation we're in right now, I'd have to believe they'd reconsider so much about their lifestyles, their diets, jobs, and focus on enlightening their kids, who are the future of this planet. There'd be an overall re-prioritization.

Pretty much everything needs to be reconsidered, reevaluated, and revisited to help mitigate the crisis at hand. We need to stop watching television and behaving like we're nothing more than consumers...those who consume, consume, consume....hence, 'Consumers'. Ewww.
What a gross title we've accepted. Our excessive laundry lists of wants has put our ecosystem in a perpetual wheelchair. But somehow as long as people can still watch the next episode of Dexter, they think everything's okay. 

I drive around this little, rich bubble of a town I live in (but didnt know this when i moved up here. I saw trees and thought...'ooo everyone must be so down to earth!' ), and see dozens and dozens and dozens of people feeling the need to knock down smaller, efficient houses, and put up giant, wasteful (and fucking cookie-cutter ugly), soulless McMansions with 3 or 4 car garages. And on top of it, all the trees on the property are mowed down. :( 

The trees are the lungs of this  planet. Yet we so indiscriminately disregard their importance, and see them as 'in the way', and eliminate them without ever replacing them. Every year, we look for the biggest, healthiest evergreen we can find, one that's withstood over a hundred years of storms and geological adversity, and chainsaw it down, drag it into a filthy NYC, and prop it back up in Rockefeller Center, in the name of attracting people who would tell you that they're skating there, celebrating their love for nature, when really they are nothing more than pawns in the game of commerce as they dance and glide under the corpse of a dead tree bearing the illusion of life and all that's important.

When the earth is broken, so are we. Look around at the profound health crises in this world, and you'll understand that concept. When you dump poison in a lake, the fish and otters die. Earth is just a larger 'lake', and all it's inhabitants are too choking and decaying from it's growing toxicity and lack of giving a minor fuck.

I too, of course, am just as guilty as living excessively. No denying that. I don't live off the land, I live in Westport CT. I don't live in a wigwam, I live in a 3000 square foot house. I don't wear banana leaves for shoes, I often leave lights on when I shouldn't, and have an ancient oil burning heating system that's super inefficient and wasteful (I should have a wood burning stove or solar panels for sure). And quite honestly, I despise myself for this. Cannot imagine the level of personal degradation my body has accrued over the decades, and the level of ecological damage this planet has shit out just because of my one stupid body breathing and occupying space here. So I'm panicked when I multiply that disgust by 7 plus billion people. But mostly by how excessive, sensationalistic, and unnecessarily indulgent Americans are. Shameful, fat, unhealthy, self-centered and destructive.

We are truly an experiment gone awry.

So in a desperate and feeble attempt to make amends with the planet, and my own guilt, about a year or so ago, after learning the amount of rainforest destruction and carbon emissions that animal agriculture was singlehandedly responsible for, I decided to take on a vegan, plant-based lifestyle.

( Not to annoy the shit out of you, believe it or not. And if it does, sorry, but that's on you. I too love cheese, but fuck my tongue's opinion). Simply put, the victim angle of exclusively blaming corporations, and the powers that be, was no longer working for me.  

My choices, my purchases and my daily habits are what either keep those businesses IN business, or out of business ('my', meaning all of us...) Eating poison, buying poison, having what I thought was 'a great career' (...I guess because I could buy a bigger, cooler house, and feel worthy?... ), and never really knowing or even thinking about what the fuck was going on behind closed doors, never questioning the fallout of whom and what I was actually promoting and supporting, if I traced it back to its roots, or followed it up to it's summit.

Sadly, we're at the crossroads of what feels like an almost irreversible problem. That is, when you think of the problem in terms of needing to physically move billions of people, or hundreds of millions of people in the same direction. Presumably, why global change feels insurmountable to most, and most people shrug just their shoulders and say, 'Eh...It is what it is. ' And odd, because people definitively believe their one presidential vote has power. They understand the concept of voting when it comes to a person, but ignorantly believe it's a worthless drop in the bucket practice when it comes to everything else they choose, or don't choose.

However in actuality, a huge positive global change is relatively simple. 

It's not easy, but it's simple.

It's a matter of every 1, individual person, SIMPLY agreeing upon a few very basic, SIMPLE universal goals. Wanting to be awake and aware, (that alone has a severely positive cascading effect), wanting true health, happiness and freedom for all things, and a beautiful, thriving, healthier home, called planet Earth. 

It's imbibed in every one choice we make.

~dp