These Days

It was during the early days of the falling gas prices that my lover and I bid one another adieu. There were two groups of people then - the people who were thrilled to fill their tanks for $20, and the folks who walked the thin line between terrified and exultant at what was to come. Oh right, and the indifferent, the unaffected - the homeless, the crackheads, the poorest of the poor, who've been scrounging for food and change for some time already, and would likely be tickled to watch their numbers grow so immensely as to put them in the majority. Make that three groups.

A journalist threw his shoes at President Bush and was arrested and tortured; my ex-lover sent me messages of longing. People all over the world rejoiced that someone put the dumbass in his place, and we wondered why he seemed so adept at ducking from thrown objects. The brave journalist took one for the team and gave us a well-needed chuckle. Underneath the laugh, I ached thinking al-Zaidi was tortured and the man responsible for countless deaths and untold destruction would continue to run free, to his filet mignon dinner and private plane.

A university in Gaza was bombed. Images of dead & bloodied Palestinians made the rounds on the internet. I received a birthday package from my old lover. People were outraged and started planning protests. Others were saddened that this is what it took to incite outrage. They (we) asked, "What about Afghanistan? What about the Congo? What about Iraq? What about right here in the United States?"

But we took to the streets and marched and cried and some of us asked God for peace and some of us asked people for peace. I told people waving the Israeli flag, "I love you, I love them, I love everybody, peace, shalom." Like I did to the Chinese at the Olympic protests demanding freedom for Tibet. Like I will do at every protest from here on out. I love my opposition; we all want the same things. I called my old lover and told him that I love him, that I want to help him be happy, that I want to help him grow.

It's New Year's Eve, now. I have only one resolution: To love more fiercely and inclusively, and to do my best to do what's right. I'm tired of fighting, and I think we can do better than this.

The First One

Hello there, world. Welcome to my first post.

I've thought long & hard about what I would bitch about here on this firstie. There are, unfortunately, far too many options. Sarah Palin? Climate change? Having left my homeland as a young child and not being able to safely return? The demise of tribe.net? My most recent failed relationship? Entitled people?

Instead, I've decided to bitch about the plethora of things to bitch about. The world is a fucked up place, and the simple fact that so much is wrong with it is tragic on its own. I wish I was as compelled to create a blog about things I love; alas, I am currently consumed with what is wrong with this cancerous, globular mess we call home.

The planet is baking, doused in chemicals, and has weird deposits of plastic and otherwise toxic trash in rapidly growing pockets all over the place. People are rude, crude, & unjust. A lot of people are starving, broke, struggling to make ends meet, and at the mercy of the few who are loaded and livin' large, not giving an eff about you. My relationship has just come to an end, which angers me, yet is also a symptom of a culture that promotes individualism, easy answers, and immediate gratification. Politics is a sham in the United States, the country in which I currently reside & which sadly plays a huge role in the state of the whole rest of the world. War is neverending. Breast milk is the most toxic edible substance we've got. Everything is fueled by greed, and I feel like Sisyphus here . . . in the meantime, we turn to gossip about who Jessica Simpson is dating now, just to forget about it all.

It's a sad state, folks. And I'm here to ceaselessly bitch about it.