Financial crisis be damned. Forget about the pending election. RENT THIS DOCUMENTARY RIGHT NOW!!
At lunch today, a coworker, I dare to say a “friend” made the statement, “I don’t know how a white person can vote for Obama.”
Go ahead, let that sink in for awhile…..I’m still trying to make sense of it.
I know she’s a Republican and super conservative and blames her racist tendencies on being raised in the country, but really? You don’t know how a white person can vote for Obama? Well, wait, I don’t know how ANY person can vote for McCain, so maybe I am no better then she is. Then again, my issues with McCain have nothing to do with his race. His ignorance, advanced age and freakishly short arms don’t help him in my mind, but his color has no bearing on my decision to not vote for him.
When confronted with statements like the one I heard today, I tend to sit in silence. That kind of blatant hatred and ignorance terrifies me. In my mind I am screaming “WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU SAYING?” Then I wonder where this comes from. Sure, my parents raised me to think that we are all equal, etc…and that helped, but I’m a grown up and can make decisions on my own. The person who made this statement is a good 15 years older then me. Surely she can make decisions on her own. Let’s say she came to these racist ideals on her own…WHY? Why does it matter what color someone is? I don’t get it. I simply don’t understand.
Similar thoughts of inability to understand come up when discussing the rights of homosexuals. The only people who’s sex lives make any difference in my world are those that I chose to have sex with…..an ever dwindling number these days. What bearing does loving a person of the same gender have on your ability to raise a child? Why is love between two men or two women less important and special and rare then it is in a “traditional” couple? Is a commitment less than because both people have the same parts? Seriously, I want explanations.
I feel naive lately. I feel like some stupid Pollyanna who just wants everyone to be happy and loved. Then again, I also feel like a militant person who doesn’t give a fuck what anyone does as long as it doesn’t effect her…and thinks that others should feel the same. Be self-centered folks….worry about yourself and that is all. I don’t know. It’s hard times these days. The world is in a crazy place and it seems like no one really knows what to do. As a result, the worst starts to come out of people. My only hope for the future is the fact that I have many friends with young children or children on the way and these amazing people will fight the good fight to leave a good world for their kids…..hopefully no one will find THAT a controversial statement.
Lots of things are rolling around in this noggin of mine. Sounds like a bulleted list is in order.
- I have a little under a half a tank of gas, but refuse to go “top off” and be a part of the insanity that has made gas almost impossible to come by in Nashville.
- The people who talk about driving around for two to three hours looking for gas make me crazy–if you have enough gas to drive around that long, you didn’t need gas!
- Noodle and I participated in the Mutt Strutt this Saturday and then went to the Dog Day Festival. It was a GLORIOUS time. The highlight had to be Noodle “cheering” for his girlfriend Macy in the Fetching Contest. He loves him some Macy!
- Terrified isn’t even a strong enough word for my feelings about the upcoming election. The idea of John McCain (or worse, Sarah Palin) having any power over the United States makes my blood run cold.
- I wish people would understand that there is no one who is “Pro-abortion”, well, there may be some that are, but the fringe sick-o’s don’t count. The word “choice” is the important word in the phrase “Pro-choice.” It has become abortion specific, but it need not be. It’s about being able to do whatever one wants with their body without fear of legislative interference. “Pro-life” ticks me off too, most people walking around are pro-life, meaning that they are all for being alive. Again, there are the fringe sick-o’s who think death is the way, but that has nothing to to with abortion.
- I recently learned how to do ghetto silk screening and have perhaps become obsessed. Prepare yourselves for silkscreened items for gifts 🙂
- The love of cooking has been rearing it’s head lately. The hatred of cleaning up, however, dominates the love for cooking in almost all cases.
- I am so ready for Fall I can’t stand it. I’ve been keeping my place cooler then need be so I can bundle up. Sweater weather is the best!
- I’m growing my hair out for Locks of Love and it’s about the make me crazy. I asked a friend of mine if he thought it was ten inches from my shoulder and he said “Way more then ten inches” but then I remembered that men can’t be trusted on judging the length of anything.
- My work load has slowed to a crawl, but I’m not complaining. I think it is the calm before the storm.
- I love my Dyson vaccuum cleaner too much.
- I just openend up my iTunes to sharing at work…and am scared at the judgement that may result from my random music choices.
- If Reckless Kelly don’t come to Nashville soon….someone is going to get hurt.
I want to sit in the middle of the floor and cry and scream like a little kid.
I want to tear things up, throw things around, wring someones neck, shoot a gun, drink a fifth of whiskey. Something, anything to change the path of things the last few weeks, or at least become numb.
My biggest client at work has been running us all ragged. The creative team came up with all these weird promotions for an event at the zoo and even though I said that some of these would be next to impossible to achieve, I was told to make it happen. I have driven nearly 300 miles hunting down and delivering 600 boxes of animal crackers (that I spent 4 hours Friday night stickering–who would think having no social life would come in so handy!). I have bought 4 different things to try to put a logo on a yoga ball. None of which have worked. I have ordered and paid for 25 yoga balls, 10 of which were what I actually ordered. These are for elephants to play with. I went to college so I can figure out a way to create balls for elephants to play with that are branded with a sub-prime car insurance brand logo!
I have been so physically and emotionally spent that when I get home I just sit on the couch and watch tv or sit at the computer and read people’s MySpace and Facebook pages to try and remember what it was like to have a life.
I want to cry so much that it physically hurts me. But I think the pharmacueticals prevent that these days. Although I am able to cry with joy, as I did when I found out that a dear friend heard the heartbeat of her baby that she has waited so long for.
I want to chop all my hair off and dye it purple. I want to skip paying my rent and buy a bunch of clothes. I want to buy a car I don’t need and can’t afford. I want to do something, anything to shake things up. This brickwall I keep running into is getting tired of the abuse.
I really, just want to cry.
This time last year started a string of deaths in my small world. I became numb to the phone calls where the news was bleak.
Currently, it’s almost as if the universe has taken a 180. People are having babies left and right. It’s a pleasant turn….trust me.
However, I have, as of late, had the urge to volunteer at a hospice. In college I volunteered at the Carl Bean Hospice in Los Angeles (which, I found after a quick google search, was shut down two years ago due to lack of funding) It was opened right after the LA Riots of 1992 and housed patients with HIV who had proof from a doctor that they had less then 6 months to live. Many of the residents came directly from jail, or off the streets. It was in a less then savory part of town. But the second you drove through the large copper gates, it was as if you were in Shangri-la. The modern architecture and wide open spaces were inviting and lovely.
The time spent at the hospice was always delightful. My presence there was simply to entertain the residents, no song and dance, but board games and the like were par for the course. There was a resident who loved to play with my “white girl hair.” He had been a hustler for the majority of his life and was never without his lavender robe and matching turban. I would walk in the room with every hair tool I could find and he would go to town. He asked about my life. He seemed to savor the inane stories I told him. I would ask him questions and he would respond with a question back at me. I caught on pretty quickly that he didn’t want to talk about himself. One day as I drove up to the hospice I saw him sitting on the sidewalk outside the gates. I rolled down the window, asking what he was doing. He just shook his head and motioned for me to drive in. When I asked one of the counselors what was up, she told me that he was waiting for his dealer. He had been clean for 4 years, but had a sudden craving for the heroin that had played a large role in him being in the hospice in the first place. It broke my heart. The counselor assured me that it was fine, his t-cell count was so low and his viral load so high that his time in this world was short. If heroin was going to make him feel better, or even just feel nothing, it was the best thing for him.
Visits were exhausting. I would spend a few hours focusing on only the positive aspects of life and simply being there for someone who had no one else. I would walk out the door energized, but it would only take driving a few blocks before the tears would come. It scared me to see how alive people are right before they die. It terrified me to think that something horrible would have to happen before I would really appreciate life. It dismayed me to know that in a few hours or a day, I would forget these feelings and go back to the life of a college student, until it was time to go back to the hospice and the circle of events would start all over again.
It seems odd or morbid, perhaps, but being surrounded with impending death like I was made me feel more alive then usual. It puts things into perspective. That is why I think I want to go back into volunteering with hospice. No one should die alone. From a completely selfish standpoint, the ability to bring joy or relieve sorrow is the best feeling ever. I guess I have some research to do…….