Tag Archives: teenagers

Psychic Teens


Summer Glau, vagueonthehow, River, Firefly, psychic teens, Alica Mckenna Johnson

Photo by Vagueonthehow

There is a special time when I think with the right guidance people could learn psychic gifts. You see, when a teenager is angry, you can feel it. Not just hear the huff of irritation, see the eyeroll of angst, or watch the sharp angry movement of disgust at every adult in the world.

No, teenagers make the very air toxic when they are upset. It’s as if a fog sweeps through their pores and you breathe in their anger and hatred for you. When they pout, because you are just so unfair and don’t understand, vibrations emanate from them that make your teeth ache. It feels as if someone is continually scratching their nails on a chalk board.

If you call them on the psychic attacks they just get pissy and storm off saying they aren’t doing anything.
But they are—they are trying to kill you with their mind.

Oh sure, it’s subconscious, but if they had training they could become lethal weapons. The Alliance took River Tam when she was a young teenager for a reason, you know.

Girls tend to be more powerful than boys simply because they will internalize their anger and seethe silently for hour, days, sometimes weeks. Ask a girl to clean up after herself, and you need to bring out crystals and sweet grass to burn in order to protect yourself from their toxic fuming.

Boys tend to be more instant. They cuss at you, slam their bedroom door, turn on their music and move on. But those boys who internalize their venomous teen angst are just as toxic.

Unfortunately, there is little a parent can do. Ignore the teen, and go about your business. When I say ignore, I don’t mean glaring at them or their bedroom door waiting for the psychic attack to stop. I mean do something, read a book, check your email. While your stomach is turning inside out, and you’re thinking of pulling out your own teeth just to make it stop, you pretend like nothing is happening.

Chocolate is good for dementors and psychic teen attacks. Always have some on hand; dark chocolate works best mostly because teens don’t tend to like it and will leave it alone.

Breathe slow and steady and remember eventually a friend will text them, their favorite song will come on the radio, or they’ll fall asleep and the attack will stop. But be careful until then, because in that moment you have a River or Sheldon trying to kill you with their brain.

Jim Parsons, Sheldon, Melody J Sandoval, Alica Mckenna Johnson

Photo by MelodyJSandoval

The Day My Son Swooned



I forgot to post yesterday so today you get a dramatic but true tale of my 18 year-olds swoon. My editor Kilian is in the hospital right now, so while I will give this a once over please overlook mistakes due to no Kilian, and the emotional content I am typing. All names except for Logan’s shall be made up to protect people or because I can’t remember them.

The Mng.

It was a normal Tuesday Morning. Logan was in Stage Craft Class at his high school. His teacher Miss. Bell was working with him on something when a student casually strolled into the light booth.

“Miss. Bell, Mr. Leon cut his finger off. Where’s the First aid Kit?” he said.

Logan sprung to his feet and ran, leaping up stairs, dodging students and vaulting over books while he put on the non-latex medical gloves he carries with him at all time, to the injured student teacher. Mr. Leon had wrapped a paper towel around the injury, which was a heroic move; kids should have to see such things.

Quickly assessing that a mere Band-Aid wasn’t going to help, Logan supports his wounded teacher and leads him out in order to take him to the ER. (The hospital is a few blocks away this is faster than an ambulance.) Logan, ever mindful of the rules, takes the route which leads them through to the office so he can let the administration know he is leaving campus.

Mrs. Hill springs into action grabbing her keys and leads them to her car so Logan can continue to support the now pale teacher.

At the ER Logan continues his vital support as they enter triage and the nurses begin their duties. The nurse, Jeffery, informs them that he will need to remove the paper towel and apply a clean wet/dry dressing. Mr. Leon, who is now a grayish color bravely, requests that Mrs. Hill and Logan look away. Logan does so while still supporting Mr. Leon’s wrist.

Nurse Jeffery tells them when he is done and thanks Logan for his assistance. Logan removes and throws away his gloves and sits down in a chair, unwilling to leave Mr. Leon until his family arrives. Mrs. Hill is also there to offer support and is making the needed phone calls.

Once seated my poor 18 year old son who is unused to massive adrenalin rushes begins to feel off. It starts with a light ringing in his ears, and then his vision begins to fade.

“I feel really dizzy,” Logan says.

“Ok,” says Jeffery who then slaps him on the leg.

Jeffery tries to keep Logan focused and talking, slapping him on the leg when he doesn’t respond quickly enough. Until Logan finally gives in to the post-adrenalin rush crash and passes out.

Logan wakes up shortly after the nurses put him into a bed. One nurse removes Logan’s shirt and starts to attach sticky monitor pads to his chest. Another nurse starts prepping an IV and blood work tubes (we live in the desert half the people who faint need water). While all this is going on Logan is being asked all the standard questions – name, DOB, allergies, etc, and is answering the nurse’s questions quite efficiently, which is a bit of a shock to her. Then the nurse asks him what happened and my son tells her the story. After this the nurse knows exactly what his medical condition is, adrenaline crash, she removes the IV from the bed. Then all the nurses leave. Logan is now alone and starts to look around. He notices that his blood oxygen saturation level keeps dipping a little below 90% (90-100% is the normal/healthy level) which he finds interesting.

Poor Mrs. Hill is hoping between the two rooms, and has to call me, while all this is happened. I bet she has made many calls to parents over the years I can’t help but wonder if this was the most interesting.

Dr. comes in and says they’ll do and EKG and let him go home. Logan nods and at 18 is able to sign forms and has his insurance card on him.

Nurse Jeffery comes in and checks on him. Logan asks, “I was planning on taking an EMT course this summer. Should I not do that?”

Jeffery smiles warmly. “No, this is totally normal. This happens to a lot of new paramedics until they get use to the adrenalin.”

Mr. Leon’s parents come in and thank Logan for his heroics.

When Logan leaves the hospital, the surgeon is consulting with Mr. Leon.

I am very proud of my son, but for @#%^# sake, he swooned after and adrenalin rush! They should have slapped him and thrown some water on him! I understand this was a CYA (cover your ass) move but come on, once the doctor and nurses heard what happened they had to have known what was going on. Just leave the boy on the floor until he comes to. I now flinch when I open the mail waiting for the emergency room co-pay from a swoon!

So next time you are heroic Logan, dearest, please just lie down on the floor and put your feet in the chair.

BTW just a point of interest, my son has never been to a hospital before. He wasn’t even born in one. And here he goes to help a teacher and winds up being treated. So weird.

Anti- Zen and the art of going within


Photographer- HaPe_Gera

Sometimes we all need a break, time to regenerate, delve within, leave the world behind and become clearer about who we are.

In Zen one realizes the importance of meditation, self-care, and just being, so you schedule time to do this. Which is odd that we have to schedule time to ‘just be’ when we don’t have much of a choice anyway.

Every four months I would go to a weekend retreat, workshop or ashram where a wise person, who glows just a bit, leads me in meditations, self-discovery, and great connection to the Universe.

Eating simple meals prepared by spiritual people who meditate as they work my body is nurtured and infused with positive energy.

I sleep peacefully in a small bare room, the gentle breeze and soft chirping of crickets singing me a lullaby.

Doesn’t that sound lovely.

Unfortunately I live in a completely different reality. I am ruled by Anti- Zen which takes a different direction.

My 14 year-old self slides into the Captain’s chair while I get up to get something to drink.

“Pizza,” she squeals and suddenly food I have been ignoring for months smells fabulous.

Photo by Foodies

I try and stay calm and reason with her. “No we don’t want to eat that. Gluten makes us sick, dairy makes our skin freak out, and we don’t eat meat. That’s for the work kids.”

“I don’t care I want it!”

My body goes to get a plate. I have been here before, in the past I would rant, yell, and fight with my 14 year-old self. This would cause a huge downward spiral of depression and self-hate, the 14 year-old would take over while my current self would be wallowing in pity and despair. The teenager would have control for a lot longer and the recovery period would be longer.

So now I try compromise and if that doesn’t work giving in. There is a lot of giving-in with Anti-Zen, it’s the opposite of letting go which is part of Zen philosophy.

Anyway, I start by offering chips and salsa- yummy, no gluten or dairy. It works once. The next night she wants Nachos, with cheese. I manage to put on a layer of real cheese before she adds some plastic American cheese to the mix.

When I go out to eat with a friend I give into temptation and eat wheat- it s baklava and who can resist baklava?!?!
Now I am lost, the 14 year-old is fully in charge. I’m staying up until midnight reading fan-fictionwa and eating foods that I’m too embarrassed to mention in public. I wake up each morning with a food hangover. Thankfully I manage to drag myself to the gym and keep one of the essential three daily activities to keeping sane , okay sane-ish.

photographer frankjuarez

Now while the voice in my head have a multitude of theories as to why we do this, the unfortunate result of reading far too many self- help books, the result is always the same, total immersion in myself.

My mind is blank, my brain doesn’t work under these conditions. I retreat into myself- which means I don’t answer emails, phone calls, I stop blogging and reading blogs, and other social media is dropped.

I can’t write, as I have a constant headache. And when I stay up until midnight I am alone in the quiet.

As I wallow in myself, the lack of sleep and disgusting diet allowing for nothing else I begin to self-analyze. While most of my conclusions are crap, at least that’s what my hubby says, I do manage to find a few kernels of truth. Somehow out of all of this chaos I manage to learn something about myself, at least something more than my 14 year-old self is an amazingly selfish, lazy, brat.

After a few days, if I don’t fight, I get bored. My teenage self goes to her room and falls asleep. Thankfully like most teenagers she can sleep forever. I am left to deal with a week or more of body ache, pimples, migraines, and other stuff I’d rather not share this publicly.

As my mind clears, little bits of intuition pop up: a new twist on a story, better clarity about a problem in my life, and a deeper understanding of myself and my goals.

It’s not the most graceful, mature, reasonable, or focused road to enlightenment but such is the way of Anti-Zen.
Maybe I could keep my teenage self-quiet longer if I gave her a tattoo or let her pierce something?

Photo by frankjuarez