To Work or Not to Work

Everyone else saw it coming, but I didn't. I was told by friends and family that I would eventually work again. I didn't believe them. Why would I? I have not turned in a resume in two months, nor made any efforts at ingratiating myself toward potential employers or connections. I thought I was doing just fine without a steady income, occasionally freelancing, occasionally collecting a free lunch from a satisfied organization that appreciated my free work.

Well, the day came, just a couple days back, when I was presented with not one, but two offers to become a member of the working world. One would have me teaching English in a high school. The other would have me in a non-profit whose mission I adore. And get this: on the same day, I got a call from another place who had received a resume back when I was not considering the benefits of remaining in the peripery of wage-earners. They wanted to take me on contract for about nine months.

Here I am. Momentarily unemployed, it seems, and with a choice of work. Suddenly, I'm feeling very exposed, very vulnerable, very anxious. Working again means that I sacrifice all the pleasant hours I've spent obsessing over healing facemasks and strange exercise techniques. I will have to give up the languorous walks with the dog in the mid-afternoon, the spontaneous visits with my husband at his work, the ability to be a lady who lunches without being an obnoxious prat who wastes all her husband's money on unnecessary fashion that no one would appreciate anyway because I spend most of my days in my own little world, sometimes forcing a collision with others.

I guess I will probably work again. At that point, I'll have to amend the vision of this blog. There is always a time for change. Anyone have any thoughts about a good direction to pursue?

My Open Letter Project

Well, it seems that I have been counseled to discontinue my letter writing campaign. But, that doesn't mean I will stop complaining. I can see the point. It's probably better not to actually SEND letters to the White House these days. Now that we know the administration is tapping into our phone calls, I guess it doesn't really matter if I put it in writing anyway, does it? To effectively make the statement against the government, we all just have to talk on the phone.

If I could have a phone conversation with Bushie, here is what I would say:

Prez: Hello?
Me: Hi, this is a US citizen calling from California. I would tell you my name, but you already have it on your phone record, right?
Prez: Yep.
Me: Good, so anyway, that sucks. I know you think it's a great idea to spy on your own people, but do you really think it's the right thing to do?
Prez: Yep.
Me: Right. But you won't allow anyone to hear anything you say?
Prez: Yep.
Me: Okay. So, if you could, and I already know you can't, but let's just try, imagine yourself as a normal citizen, not super-funded by oil-rich bloodlines and defense contracts, but just a wage earner living month to month and barely making your truck payments.
Prez: I like trucks.
Me: Yes. Now, imagine yourself as that guy.
Prez: Is it a big truck?
Me: Whatever. Yes.
Prez: I like big trucks.
Me: Yes, big truck, small man, small job, big family. How would you like to know, as that guy, that your government suspected you, and all your neighbors, of some sort of action that warrants eavesdropping.
Prez: Is there a warrant? I don't think you need a warrant. You just need to be president to spy. And I say it's ok. No warrant.
Me: No. I mean, usually, the government can't spy on you unless they have some suspicion that you are doing something wrong.
Prez: Really? Well, we all do stuff that's wrong all the time. Look at me.
Me: Yes. Look at you. Okay, this is worthless, like your governance. Take care.
Prez: You wanna have a beer?
Me: Sure. But no wires, okay. I mean really, it's just annoying.
Prez: I think it's funny.
Me: Yeah, you would.

So, as you can see, there's just no getting through to him. So we better make damn sure that the Democrats get their shit together. Bushie thinks his brother is a good guy. I'm sure Rove can convince everyone that it's true.

I'm not watching American Idol

Summertime. It's hot. I got in the car this afternoon, rolled down the windows and felt the hot wind rush over my skin like a hairdryer. New Zealand was never this warm and my blood isn't quite prepared to cope. India was hot, but it was heat that played a second fiddle to every other external influence. The mercury never raised so high that I could ignore the chorus of barking dogs, puttering rickshaws, marching bands proceeding to the funeral. Try as it might, its oppression was overwhelmed by the smell it produced, on bodies or in garbage piles.

Here, it's just getting hot. Everything is clean and dandy and maybe a little fuzzy behind the heatwaves rising off the asphalt.

I watched television last night because I thought I might be missing something that could bring me closer to understanding the meaning of life. I haven't watched American Idol since the first series, and apparently there is now a standing army of American Idols singing horrendous versions of horrific Celine Dion songs that climax in some strange voice gymnastics that make audiences scream and moan. Isn't Celine Dion Canadian?

It could be that this new army will take over the world utilizing the pure force of their manic crescendos. I, for one, have considered shooting my television when I hear the recruitment process on American Idol every week. If the idols ever do get loose, I hope we have a plan.

Open Letter to Bush

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Who cares about a stupid letter that I wrote to our deplorable president who feels the need to explain that he's purchasing a chew toy for his dog. Oh, really? It's not for your mom?

I decided to post this letter for purely selfish and self-protective reasons. I once had to research and prepare some court documents in defense of this schizophrenic kid who had written letters to the president and other elected officials. Mostly, his letters were trying to explain his illness and his horrible childhood as partial justification for his actions that originally got him into the criminal system. Unfortunately, tidbits of the letters included some erratic and poorly spelled outbursts of rage. He was charged with threatening public officials, of course.

While I don't have too many questions about my mental stability, (ahem), and I have very little rage inside me, I do have a little nit to pick with the way this US government is governing us. One of those nits is the comfort much of the right seems to have in pointing fingers, throwing accusations, and otherwise sweeping the age-old proviso that we are all innocent until we are proven guilty under the tacky rug of patriotism. So, paranoid as ever, I am posting the letters I write to the President, just so anyone out there can see that I didn't say anything that can be construed as threatening or otherwise maliciously intended. To the contrary, I would love to "have a beer" with the ol' Pres, just to see if it's really as fun as people say it would be. And maybe, while we are toasting our good health, I might ask a couple questions about how he sleeps at night.

Here's the first, maybe the last, but one, in any case:

May 4, 2006

Dear President Bush,

I have decided that I will write a letter once a week to you, for the remainder of your term. I’m not joking; I am really going to do this. You may think that I am full of it, but I have a lot of reasons to do this. And I have the time.

I listen to the news every morning. I know you stated early on in your presidential career that you don’t let yourself become influenced by the mundane reality in daily newspapers (mundane means ordinary or dull), but there are some snippets of information that might serve you well as a human being living in this world. I may be a liberal Democrat, but I still recognize that you are, indeed, a human.

For example, as a human, you might be keen to know that every morning, most of the US wakes up to hear about a number of people getting killed in Iraq. Maybe these are just numbers to you. I don’t know whether you recognize that behind every number are actual bodies of flesh and blood, born to mothers and fathers, and loved by people around them. You, I would point out in case no one has, are also a body of flesh and blood, born to a mother and a father who love you. You have created two beings, of flesh and blood, with your wife, also human, and I believe that you love these creatures you created with the wife who I believe you also love. Do you see what I’m getting at here? You are human, and you are responsible, directly, for the killings that are taking place every single day in a country far away. You are responsible, directly, for the loss to this universe of loved flesh and blood.

Did you know there is also such a loss here, and you could address it if you pulled some money away from implementing a daily course of death and destruction in Iraq? There is a loss that takes place on the streets of this country’s cities: everyday, someone without a home, a human also of flesh and blood and loved at some point or even now, dies on the streets. Everyday. And it isn’t just one person, but many who die in different cities across the country. Did you know that?

I don’t want to beat the horse here, but I hope that you might consider how you are exacerbating a difficult situation. And there is no positive net result for a lot of humans, of flesh and blood, as a result of your actions. Instead of doing anything for the greater good, you are killing members of the greater good. You know, you could probably do something about that?

It’s not really my place to make you feel guilty, but it is my place, as a citizen and member of the electorate, to complain when I see fit. I have complained in my community, and increasingly, people are agreeing with me. Now, I am going to complain directly to you.

Sincerely,

Me (And here, I really did sign my true name.)

Fuel standards and Bird Flu

Well, I guess the federal government should just fold. It's probably better that way. There is so little that they are doing well, and in fact, so much they are doing poorly or not at all, that I just don't see the point anymore. Of course, the absence of a federal government could potentially bankrupt a whole mess of DC bureaucrats, lobbyists, reporters, analysts, office assistants, restaurant workers, gas station attendants, housecleaners and prostitutes. Maybe if the DC government could just become an entity in name alone, without even intimating an intent or goal, save the difficult act of self-perpetuation. I'd be cool with firing all the higher ups and allowing the government to exist only to keep anyone making less than 75k annually employed. Let's do it.

As so many people know, self-perpetuation, or survival by another name, is hard these days. Aside from angry rumblings simmering up from the magma core of our petulant earth, and rising sea levels that don't seem to do anything to cool the ire, we also got a whole host of sticky situations that just don't seem to inspire anyone to commit to resolution. Like what?

Gas prices: I don't mind the three dollar per gallon price point. I don't mind it not because I'm rich and love to toss my money at rich oil companies posting the highest profits ever. That would be silly. If anyone reading this is tossing money at anyone who already has a ton, take a moment to think about that move. It's dumb. The reason I don't mind the high prices is because it connotes the significance of using up natural resources. So, right, a bunch of people have been saying that for a long time. Now, though, how about a strong statement from the feds about the merits of driving less? How about a strong statement about the plausibility of carpools or public transit or bicycling to work? How about a strong statement other than, "let's relax the fuel standard for light trucks!" Because, see, that doesn't help the problem.

Bird flu: yeah, you know what? I'm not really scared of this. I don't want to die from it, but I don't want to freak out right now over a flu that has only crossed into a human accessible virus in 200 cases. Again, you want to know why? Because, unlike a bunch of the dead kids who contracted the disease, I don't play with chickens. I don't like birds at all. I'm not surprised to learn that they would carry a dastardly disease capable of wiping a bunch of folks out because birds are horrendously dirty and only worthy of note when they are flying somewhere faraway in a pretty formation, or gathering in a nice wetland where humans shouldn't live. Don't play with chickens.

As I write all this, I keep thinking, what's the best damn thing that the federal government did in the last ten years? And when I say "did," I mean something other than create humorous fodder for cynical observers. I also mean something that is NOT an omission. What have they done? Hmm. What have they done that has resulted in a greater good? Umm, yeah. Shit. I'm at a loss.