Well, I know this may sound lame, but I just thought I would make an official blog entry about reaching over 1000 hits. I know most of these are probably accidents, group searches from the likes of China and Mongolia, and then the random google searches by people looking for something totally different and ending up here. But I hope that at least a few of you ended up here, sharing in my discourse, intentionally. I know my rantings tend toward the sentimental and (for lack of a better word) dorky, but they are as much an exercise in writing as an effort to keep tabs on myself.
The blogging drama that is "Why do people blog" has kept me wondering why I blog. I don't particularly care if people sum it up to a narcissistic regurgitation of my innermost thoughts which all the world must be dying to hear. I don't do it for that reason. I do it because I love to write. Capturing moments of my life in snippets of words and the occasional dose of wisdom continually reminds me that though I am not perfect, I really do try to better myself, and the world I am a part of. I have really enjoyed finding myself in these cyber-posts. If people want to call it a public diary, go for it. I am not offended.
So hear is to my first 1000 hits, and all three of my loyal readers :) Now out into the sunshine of this glorious Adirondack autumn. I see a wool blanket, Jane Eyre, and a city park in my future. And I'll just put a wish out there for a dashing young man, interested in redheaded women who read books in parks on Tuesday afternoons, to meander my way. (cough, cough, preferably with dangerously handsome features, quiet confidence, and a stature taller than my 69 inches, cough)
Happy Tuesday :)
A written record of the scuffles, rants and revelations of a 20-something searcher.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Friday, September 14, 2007
Touch
For some reason, I have been thinking a lot about touch, and how necessary it is. It is a less tangible need than say the need for food and water, shelter, or warmth, but it is no less essential. When you think about it, we seek out human contact all the time, whether in healthy or unhealthy ways. Some of the better contacts, hugging friends, making love, cradling babies, holding hands, playing with someone's hair, tickling. And then there are the middle of the road contacts, bumping and grinding at a dance club, standing nearer someone on the subway than is really necessary or comfortable for the other person. And finally, scary contacts, forced sex, abuse, sex for money. People are so desperate for human contact, they are willing to degrade others, and be degraded for it.
Most people find healthy ways to fill the need, they turn to family and friends for hugs and comfort, to significant others to be held, to children they care for to hold. It becomes dangerous when people aren't taught how to fill their touch quota, and then turn to sad and scary ways of compensating.
I don't say this to evoke dark or depressing thoughts, but just as a note of something that has been on my mind a lot recently. This is partly because I have been feeling deficient in human contact and rather alone of late. I am not in a relationship, so no one is holding me in a loving embrace, most of my friends are far away, so I am receiving fewer hugs than I would prefer, my dad lives locally, but other than that, my family is far away, so I have no sisters or mom to rub my head and play with my hair, no one to lay with on the couch. It is one of those things that can easily get away from you until something happens to open your eyes to it. You don't always notice why you are feeling alone and solitary, separated from the communal human existence. If someone were to just come up to me right now and hug me, I would probably struggle to hold back tears of loneliness.
The eye opener for me happened the other day while I was watching a few of my favorite babies, Sean and Amanda's two little girls, A and B (not to be confused with model "A" and model "B", but rather as the first initial of their names- who knows though, perhaps Sean and Amanda planned it that way so that when the girls are running around the house like crazy people someday, and the inevitable forgetting of their childrens' names occurs, they can just shout out "Model A! Would you please stop chasing your sister with that glob of mud in your hand!").
Anyway, we were laughing and having a good time, dancing to the radio, building forts, spinning in chairs, you know, all those good things toddlers like to do. At one point I was holding their younger daughter who is about 1.5 years old, and out of nowhere, she put her little mouth up against my cheek in an open mouth, slobber all over your face kiss, and then rested her little head on my shoulder and just stayed there for a few seconds before looking up at me smiling and then crawling back toward the mess of couch pillows and blankets that had at one time been a fort. I think tears may have actually come to my eyes in that moment. I don't know if she sensed it in a way that only small children can, just how much I needed that touch, but I left the house as dusk was settling in, with my soul a little bit restored.
Most people find healthy ways to fill the need, they turn to family and friends for hugs and comfort, to significant others to be held, to children they care for to hold. It becomes dangerous when people aren't taught how to fill their touch quota, and then turn to sad and scary ways of compensating.
I don't say this to evoke dark or depressing thoughts, but just as a note of something that has been on my mind a lot recently. This is partly because I have been feeling deficient in human contact and rather alone of late. I am not in a relationship, so no one is holding me in a loving embrace, most of my friends are far away, so I am receiving fewer hugs than I would prefer, my dad lives locally, but other than that, my family is far away, so I have no sisters or mom to rub my head and play with my hair, no one to lay with on the couch. It is one of those things that can easily get away from you until something happens to open your eyes to it. You don't always notice why you are feeling alone and solitary, separated from the communal human existence. If someone were to just come up to me right now and hug me, I would probably struggle to hold back tears of loneliness.
The eye opener for me happened the other day while I was watching a few of my favorite babies, Sean and Amanda's two little girls, A and B (not to be confused with model "A" and model "B", but rather as the first initial of their names- who knows though, perhaps Sean and Amanda planned it that way so that when the girls are running around the house like crazy people someday, and the inevitable forgetting of their childrens' names occurs, they can just shout out "Model A! Would you please stop chasing your sister with that glob of mud in your hand!").
Anyway, we were laughing and having a good time, dancing to the radio, building forts, spinning in chairs, you know, all those good things toddlers like to do. At one point I was holding their younger daughter who is about 1.5 years old, and out of nowhere, she put her little mouth up against my cheek in an open mouth, slobber all over your face kiss, and then rested her little head on my shoulder and just stayed there for a few seconds before looking up at me smiling and then crawling back toward the mess of couch pillows and blankets that had at one time been a fort. I think tears may have actually come to my eyes in that moment. I don't know if she sensed it in a way that only small children can, just how much I needed that touch, but I left the house as dusk was settling in, with my soul a little bit restored.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The American Extreme
There are moments in life, when my ever-present internal dialogue gets a reality check. For the most part, deep down in the soul of Trina, I know myself to be a well adjusted human being. That said however, I am also my own worst critic. I fixate on my flaws and I have trouble letting go of even the smallest of errors. Sometimes it seems my mind is determined to find the worst in me, and then convince myself that how I perceive myself in my head, is also how the rest of the world sees me. Ever so often though, by the grace of God and all that is good in this world, I see with clarity the fact that all things considered, good and bad, I am pretty happy, healthy and grounded human being. One such moment happened the other night while standing in line at the grocery store. Unfortunately, this revelation revolved around one of the saddest aspects of American cultural extremes, obesity and anorexia. Let me rewind a little to included all that transpired leading up to the grocery line.
Since I graduated college, I have tried to make regular exercise a part of my life. In high school I relied on sports teams for this, but during college I got away from any sort of exercise routine as a result of crazy class schedules, multiple on-campus jobs, and an overloaded extracurricular calendar. So in the year and a half since graduation, I have put forth considerable effort to make it to the gym 3-5 times a week. This last month however, was a whirlwind and my gym time shrank to about 1 day a week. Susceptible as I am for beating myself up over this, I had "seen" (otherwise stated as imagined) the fat bulging off my body in new and unwanted places. Determined to get back on the wagon, I put aside all the reasons I didn't have time for the gym on Tuesday night, and hopped on a eliptical for 30 minutes of cardio.
Though the eliptical is a great workout, it is not exactly the height of excitement. In fact, it can be downright boring. So to stave off a lack luster performance due to mind numbing boredom, I often read trashy magazines to entertain myself. Tuesday night was no different, I grabbed an US Weekly and began pedaling away.
The last time I read this magazine, there was a section in the back called "Celebrity Weight Watch". It basically plastered pictures of famous women on the page and said whether they had gained or lost weight. I was rather disgusted at the time, but forgot about it and went on with my workout, figuring it was just a one time thing. Well, it wasn't. I was reading the same publication on Tuesday night, and what did I find but "Celebrity Weight Watch". Not only are they tracking the weight of these women, but they are also placing judgment on them based on their weight gain or loss. It is pretty sick. I made up my mind right there to stop reading that magazine, and those kind of magazines in general. Though they can sometimes be entertaining and have interesting fashion advice, they melt your brain, and destroy the confidence of women across the country.
After I closed the magazine, seething, I finished my workout, and was feeling pretty good. I have written about this before on here, but I love exercise. It makes me feel great on so many levels. Sometimes it is hard to get to the gym, but once I am there, I rarely, if ever regret it.
Anyway, on the way home, I had to stop at the grocery to get some items for a dinner party my roommate and I were having. Granted, the items that filled my basket were pretty crappy, bittersweet chocolate, heavy cream, and other rarely bought items, but they were for a special occasion so I didn't worry about it.
I got up to the check out, ready to pay for my stuff, and couldn't help but notice the plethora of crap magazines, placed in a location designed for standing and waiting. On the cover of every single magazine, a woman was either being accused of anorexia, due to the veins jutting out from under her barely existent skin which clung desperately to her bony frame, or accused her of slovenly behavior which resulted in "weight gain" otherwise known as actually reaching a normal, healthy size.
Then I looked up from the grotesque images of starved starlets accosting my eyes, and noticed the people around me at the check out counter. Every single one, and I do mean every one, was morbidly obese. Not 15 or 20 extra pounds, but 50, 100, 150 pounds overweight. The person behind me, in front of me, in the aisle next to me, the cashier, every single one was heavy to the point of leaning on their carts because their legs couldn't support the weight they were being forced to hold for the length of time it took to buy groceries.
As I bent over to place my basket on top of the stack below the counter, I noticed my own legs, a lifelong source of dissatisfaction for me. I have never been so glad to see their healthy shape, the strong muscles in my calf and thigh, the normal way they attached to my hip and pelvis, without jutting bones, or protruding mounds of fat. I realized how lucky I was to have a healthy body.
I looked next at the carts around me, loaded with with coke, hot dogs, bleached white bread, chips a hoy, fritos, cheese in a can, beer, and I realized how poorly these people were feeding themselves, despite their size. At once I was confronted with malnutrition on both ends of the spectrum; the young women (and men for that matter) who starve themselves to attain an unrealistic physical ideal, and the people who fill their bodies with calories and sugar and fat, but no vitamins and minerals or fiber. And yet these same people feel bad about themselves because they too cannot meet the prescribed physical ideal. And what is worse is that many of them have no idea how to fix their problem and so continue to buy crap.
In that moment I never loved my mom more for her "granola" tendencies. For her insistence on carrot sticks in our lunch, milk at dinner, no soda except for special occasions, and if we had a treat like Dunkin' Donuts (which happened once in a blue moon) we were forced to eat a piece of fruit first. And fast food, well that only happened on the rarest of occasions.
The American cultural landscape has become a wasteland of extremes, extreme wealth or extreme poverty, extreme political ideologies, blantant hate or over the top political correctness, self inflicted starvation or obesity. What has happened to moderation? Why must everything fall so far to one side or the other? When did middle of the road beliefs and lifestyles become synonymous with waffling- "Just choose a side already" accusations? I for one, will happily stay in the middle. I don't want my collarbone to protrude an inch from my neck, nor do I want pockets of fat on my body so large there are names invented for them. I don't want to be a crazy leftist liberal or an ultra conservative righter, I don't want to drip with diamonds, or celebrate my poverty and ignorance. I will happily stay moderate, in lifestyle, in food consumption, in political beliefs, and in the amount I allow my inner voice to beat me up.
Since I graduated college, I have tried to make regular exercise a part of my life. In high school I relied on sports teams for this, but during college I got away from any sort of exercise routine as a result of crazy class schedules, multiple on-campus jobs, and an overloaded extracurricular calendar. So in the year and a half since graduation, I have put forth considerable effort to make it to the gym 3-5 times a week. This last month however, was a whirlwind and my gym time shrank to about 1 day a week. Susceptible as I am for beating myself up over this, I had "seen" (otherwise stated as imagined) the fat bulging off my body in new and unwanted places. Determined to get back on the wagon, I put aside all the reasons I didn't have time for the gym on Tuesday night, and hopped on a eliptical for 30 minutes of cardio.
Though the eliptical is a great workout, it is not exactly the height of excitement. In fact, it can be downright boring. So to stave off a lack luster performance due to mind numbing boredom, I often read trashy magazines to entertain myself. Tuesday night was no different, I grabbed an US Weekly and began pedaling away.
The last time I read this magazine, there was a section in the back called "Celebrity Weight Watch". It basically plastered pictures of famous women on the page and said whether they had gained or lost weight. I was rather disgusted at the time, but forgot about it and went on with my workout, figuring it was just a one time thing. Well, it wasn't. I was reading the same publication on Tuesday night, and what did I find but "Celebrity Weight Watch". Not only are they tracking the weight of these women, but they are also placing judgment on them based on their weight gain or loss. It is pretty sick. I made up my mind right there to stop reading that magazine, and those kind of magazines in general. Though they can sometimes be entertaining and have interesting fashion advice, they melt your brain, and destroy the confidence of women across the country.
After I closed the magazine, seething, I finished my workout, and was feeling pretty good. I have written about this before on here, but I love exercise. It makes me feel great on so many levels. Sometimes it is hard to get to the gym, but once I am there, I rarely, if ever regret it.
Anyway, on the way home, I had to stop at the grocery to get some items for a dinner party my roommate and I were having. Granted, the items that filled my basket were pretty crappy, bittersweet chocolate, heavy cream, and other rarely bought items, but they were for a special occasion so I didn't worry about it.
I got up to the check out, ready to pay for my stuff, and couldn't help but notice the plethora of crap magazines, placed in a location designed for standing and waiting. On the cover of every single magazine, a woman was either being accused of anorexia, due to the veins jutting out from under her barely existent skin which clung desperately to her bony frame, or accused her of slovenly behavior which resulted in "weight gain" otherwise known as actually reaching a normal, healthy size.
Then I looked up from the grotesque images of starved starlets accosting my eyes, and noticed the people around me at the check out counter. Every single one, and I do mean every one, was morbidly obese. Not 15 or 20 extra pounds, but 50, 100, 150 pounds overweight. The person behind me, in front of me, in the aisle next to me, the cashier, every single one was heavy to the point of leaning on their carts because their legs couldn't support the weight they were being forced to hold for the length of time it took to buy groceries.
As I bent over to place my basket on top of the stack below the counter, I noticed my own legs, a lifelong source of dissatisfaction for me. I have never been so glad to see their healthy shape, the strong muscles in my calf and thigh, the normal way they attached to my hip and pelvis, without jutting bones, or protruding mounds of fat. I realized how lucky I was to have a healthy body.
I looked next at the carts around me, loaded with with coke, hot dogs, bleached white bread, chips a hoy, fritos, cheese in a can, beer, and I realized how poorly these people were feeding themselves, despite their size. At once I was confronted with malnutrition on both ends of the spectrum; the young women (and men for that matter) who starve themselves to attain an unrealistic physical ideal, and the people who fill their bodies with calories and sugar and fat, but no vitamins and minerals or fiber. And yet these same people feel bad about themselves because they too cannot meet the prescribed physical ideal. And what is worse is that many of them have no idea how to fix their problem and so continue to buy crap.
In that moment I never loved my mom more for her "granola" tendencies. For her insistence on carrot sticks in our lunch, milk at dinner, no soda except for special occasions, and if we had a treat like Dunkin' Donuts (which happened once in a blue moon) we were forced to eat a piece of fruit first. And fast food, well that only happened on the rarest of occasions.
The American cultural landscape has become a wasteland of extremes, extreme wealth or extreme poverty, extreme political ideologies, blantant hate or over the top political correctness, self inflicted starvation or obesity. What has happened to moderation? Why must everything fall so far to one side or the other? When did middle of the road beliefs and lifestyles become synonymous with waffling- "Just choose a side already" accusations? I for one, will happily stay in the middle. I don't want my collarbone to protrude an inch from my neck, nor do I want pockets of fat on my body so large there are names invented for them. I don't want to be a crazy leftist liberal or an ultra conservative righter, I don't want to drip with diamonds, or celebrate my poverty and ignorance. I will happily stay moderate, in lifestyle, in food consumption, in political beliefs, and in the amount I allow my inner voice to beat me up.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
I can't help that I'm young, but I choose to be liberal.
When did looking out for the other guy become a bad thing? When did protecting the earth from longterm, irreparable damage become a leftist political agenda? When did idealism and hope for a better world become cause for contempt and condemnation?
There are not too many things that get me riled. For the most part I am a moderate person, content to keep the peace and agree to disagree on certain issues. But there are a few things that I cannot help but react to. One of those things is being made to feel as though my opinion is less valid because I am young (or because I am a girl, that one pisses me off too). I cannot help that I young. I cannot help that I have limited experience of the world when compared to someone my parents or grandparents age. That does not mean however, that my opinions are not carefully weighed and decided on after first making an effort to see all sides. So I am idealistic, so what? Does that make me stupid or easily duped? Does that make what I have to say less important? No. In fact, the last time I checked, many people my parents age long for their youth, and the optimism that comes with it.
When people look down their noses at me and say, "Just wait, you'll change your mind." it makes me want to scream. Maybe I will maybe I won't! Maybe because you are old and jaded, everything you see, touch and feel is poisoned with cynicism. Maybe you are so caught in your ways and unwilling to see things from a different perspective that anything even remotely different is "wrong".
Don't you remember when you were my age, you couldn't help being 23 either. And you became incensed when your parents would say... "Just wait Johnny, you'll see, you'll change your mind." Didn't you just want to throttle them?! And now here you are, doing the same thing. It is ok to learn from experience, to gain wisdom with your years, to change your mind about things as you experience more of the world, but that doesn't mean you didn't have important things to say when you were young.
It is the young that rattle the cages of age and tradition for tradition's sake. It was the young that marched to stop the Vietnam war and "give peace a chance" It was the young that fought tooth and nail for civil rights and the desegregation of schools. And you're going to tell me that my liberal, save the earth, everyone should have health care, the rich shouldn't be getting special tax breaks, ideas are less valid simply because they come the mouth of someone who isn't 55+? Well pardon my language, but fuck that.
Ok, now that you know where I stand on this particular issue, there is a point to my rant. I got an email from my dad today, you'll see it below, and I could not stop myself from responding. I may have sounded like a crazy lady, but honestly , I couldn't help myself. So for your reading pleasure, I now give you Trina on one of her more potent varieties of "She's real pissed" crack. Enjoy!
The email:
Subject: Father and Daughter Talk
A young woman was about to finish her first year of college. Like
so many others her age, she considered herself to be a very liberal
Democrat, and among other liberal ideals, was very much in favor of higher taxes to support more government programs, in other words, redistribution of wealth.
She was deeply ashamed that her father was a rather staunch
Republican, a feeling she openly expressed. Based on the lectures that she had participated in, and the occasional chat with a professor, she felt
that her father had for years harbored an evil, selfish desire to keep what he thought should be his.
One day she was challenging her father on his opposition to higher
taxes on the rich and the need for more government programs. The
self-professed objectivity proclaimed by her professors had to be the truth and
she indicated so to her father. He responded by asking how she was doing in school.
Taken aback, she answered rather haughtily that she had a 4.0 GPA,
and let him know that it was tough to maintain, insisting that she was taking a very difficult course load and was constantly studying, which left her no time to go out and party like other people she knew. She didn't even have time for a boyfriend, and didn't really have many college friends because she spent all her time studying.
Her father listened then asked, "How is your friend Audrey doing?"
She replied, "Audrey is barely getting by. All she takes are easy
classes, she never studies, and she barely has a 2.0 GPA. She is so popular
on campus; college for her is a blast. She's always invited to all the
parties, and lots of times she doesn't even sh ow up for classes because she's too hung over."
Her father asked her, "Why don't you go to the Dean's office and ask him to deduct a 1.0 off your GPA and give it to your friend Audrey, who only has a 2.0. That way you will both have a 3.0 GPA and certainly
that would be a fair and equal distribution of GPA."
The daughter, visibly shocked by her father's suggestion, angrily fired back, "That's a crazy idea. How would that be fair? I've worked really hard for my grades! I've invested a lot of time, and a lot of hard work. Audrey has done next to nothing toward her degree. She played while I worked my tail off!"
The father slowly smiled, winked and said gently, "Welcome to the Republican Party."
My dad wrote at the top of this forward:
"hmmmmmm I wonder......................"
To which I replied to all:
To the fathers that sent this to their democrat daughters with smirks on their faces and the thought of "a little reality check will do them good" running through their heads:
I knowingly and willingly fall prey to your email with the obvious intent of getting a rise out of me.... and I will reply in kind. :)
Though I know you would love for me to scoot on over to the "other side" what the father forgets to mention, and the daughter forgets to retort, is that unlike working hard for good grades, hard work in the job world does not equate to higher pay. A single mom working three jobs at minimum wage, I would venture to say, works at jobs more physically taxing and often more emotionally degrading than say a doctor, lawyer, stockbroker or CEO, and still makes probably less than a 1/4 of their income. She is still barely able to fill the mouths of her three kids, make rent, and keep the heat on. Her situation is not something easily changed. She probably grew up in a family similar to the one she has herself, with no parents around because they worked long hours out of necessity, there might even have been drug abuse and domestic violence in her immediate environment. She saw her older sister, her best friend and her cousin pregnant by 17, and the idea of college was never mentioned, let alone considered because when you have mouths to feed, a college education, even at a community college, is out of the question. Though poverty at times is a choice made by those who don't want to work, it is more often a vicious cycle of circumstances and environments people grow up in, a lack of education, and a minimum wage that doesn't even come close to a living wage.
I don't think the rich should be taxed more than everyone else, they should be taxed equally. If you make more, you pay more, that is just how the math works. The rich shouldn't be getting special tax breaks to keep their already inflated bank rolls even fatter. That is called greed. There is a limit to the number of cars you should have parked in your driveway and the number of $300 pairs of jeans hanging in your closet. Those are not needs. Maybe a few rides should be taken in those $65,000 cars to the other side of the tracks where more than 1/2 of Americans live, to find out what real needs are. Donating $100 at Christmas cannot be the only "make myself feel better for my excessive lifestyle" donation that is made. It's like like Mr. Smith says in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, "I wouldn't give you two cents for all your fancy rules if behind them they didn't have a bit of plain, ordinary, everyday kindness--and a little looking out for the other fella too." Poverty isn't a sin, doing nothing about it, is.
Tell me I am too serious and too liberal, too left, too hard on the rich, too democrat. But for the record, I would vote for a Republican if he/she were the better candidate. It's just that the republican party on the whole has turned into a something of a greed machine. And that is not to say the democrats are much better. If you ask me, democracy has become less about the people it claims to represent and more about the agendas (pockets) of the people in power, so they can keep their power, get more power, and pass on the power to the few they deem deserving of it (aka, their friends). Oh, and most of these people are not actually people, they go by the names of Corporations and the three or four parent companies that own the whole lot of them. Isn't it great to know that the ones in charge of whether or not Betty gets her cancer medication are the same "people" (insurance companies) that would rather not give it to her because it means they can save a few bucks. I know I am comforted by that. But that is just a young whipper snappers naive and inexperienced opinion. I guess I should leave the real politics to some stodgy old white men who haven't done their own laundry in... oh right, ever. Cheers :)
And that was that!
There are not too many things that get me riled. For the most part I am a moderate person, content to keep the peace and agree to disagree on certain issues. But there are a few things that I cannot help but react to. One of those things is being made to feel as though my opinion is less valid because I am young (or because I am a girl, that one pisses me off too). I cannot help that I young. I cannot help that I have limited experience of the world when compared to someone my parents or grandparents age. That does not mean however, that my opinions are not carefully weighed and decided on after first making an effort to see all sides. So I am idealistic, so what? Does that make me stupid or easily duped? Does that make what I have to say less important? No. In fact, the last time I checked, many people my parents age long for their youth, and the optimism that comes with it.
When people look down their noses at me and say, "Just wait, you'll change your mind." it makes me want to scream. Maybe I will maybe I won't! Maybe because you are old and jaded, everything you see, touch and feel is poisoned with cynicism. Maybe you are so caught in your ways and unwilling to see things from a different perspective that anything even remotely different is "wrong".
Don't you remember when you were my age, you couldn't help being 23 either. And you became incensed when your parents would say... "Just wait Johnny, you'll see, you'll change your mind." Didn't you just want to throttle them?! And now here you are, doing the same thing. It is ok to learn from experience, to gain wisdom with your years, to change your mind about things as you experience more of the world, but that doesn't mean you didn't have important things to say when you were young.
It is the young that rattle the cages of age and tradition for tradition's sake. It was the young that marched to stop the Vietnam war and "give peace a chance" It was the young that fought tooth and nail for civil rights and the desegregation of schools. And you're going to tell me that my liberal, save the earth, everyone should have health care, the rich shouldn't be getting special tax breaks, ideas are less valid simply because they come the mouth of someone who isn't 55+? Well pardon my language, but fuck that.
Ok, now that you know where I stand on this particular issue, there is a point to my rant. I got an email from my dad today, you'll see it below, and I could not stop myself from responding. I may have sounded like a crazy lady, but honestly , I couldn't help myself. So for your reading pleasure, I now give you Trina on one of her more potent varieties of "She's real pissed" crack. Enjoy!
The email:
Subject: Father and Daughter Talk
A young woman was about to finish her first year of college. Like
so many others her age, she considered herself to be a very liberal
Democrat, and among other liberal ideals, was very much in favor of higher taxes to support more government programs, in other words, redistribution of wealth.
She was deeply ashamed that her father was a rather staunch
Republican, a feeling she openly expressed. Based on the lectures that she had participated in, and the occasional chat with a professor, she felt
that her father had for years harbored an evil, selfish desire to keep what he thought should be his.
One day she was challenging her father on his opposition to higher
taxes on the rich and the need for more government programs. The
self-professed objectivity proclaimed by her professors had to be the truth and
she indicated so to her father. He responded by asking how she was doing in school.
Taken aback, she answered rather haughtily that she had a 4.0 GPA,
and let him know that it was tough to maintain, insisting that she was taking a very difficult course load and was constantly studying, which left her no time to go out and party like other people she knew. She didn't even have time for a boyfriend, and didn't really have many college friends because she spent all her time studying.
Her father listened then asked, "How is your friend Audrey doing?"
She replied, "Audrey is barely getting by. All she takes are easy
classes, she never studies, and she barely has a 2.0 GPA. She is so popular
on campus; college for her is a blast. She's always invited to all the
parties, and lots of times she doesn't even sh ow up for classes because she's too hung over."
Her father asked her, "Why don't you go to the Dean's office and ask him to deduct a 1.0 off your GPA and give it to your friend Audrey, who only has a 2.0. That way you will both have a 3.0 GPA and certainly
that would be a fair and equal distribution of GPA."
The daughter, visibly shocked by her father's suggestion, angrily fired back, "That's a crazy idea. How would that be fair? I've worked really hard for my grades! I've invested a lot of time, and a lot of hard work. Audrey has done next to nothing toward her degree. She played while I worked my tail off!"
The father slowly smiled, winked and said gently, "Welcome to the Republican Party."
My dad wrote at the top of this forward:
"hmmmmmm I wonder......................"
To which I replied to all:
To the fathers that sent this to their democrat daughters with smirks on their faces and the thought of "a little reality check will do them good" running through their heads:
I knowingly and willingly fall prey to your email with the obvious intent of getting a rise out of me.... and I will reply in kind. :)
Though I know you would love for me to scoot on over to the "other side" what the father forgets to mention, and the daughter forgets to retort, is that unlike working hard for good grades, hard work in the job world does not equate to higher pay. A single mom working three jobs at minimum wage, I would venture to say, works at jobs more physically taxing and often more emotionally degrading than say a doctor, lawyer, stockbroker or CEO, and still makes probably less than a 1/4 of their income. She is still barely able to fill the mouths of her three kids, make rent, and keep the heat on. Her situation is not something easily changed. She probably grew up in a family similar to the one she has herself, with no parents around because they worked long hours out of necessity, there might even have been drug abuse and domestic violence in her immediate environment. She saw her older sister, her best friend and her cousin pregnant by 17, and the idea of college was never mentioned, let alone considered because when you have mouths to feed, a college education, even at a community college, is out of the question. Though poverty at times is a choice made by those who don't want to work, it is more often a vicious cycle of circumstances and environments people grow up in, a lack of education, and a minimum wage that doesn't even come close to a living wage.
I don't think the rich should be taxed more than everyone else, they should be taxed equally. If you make more, you pay more, that is just how the math works. The rich shouldn't be getting special tax breaks to keep their already inflated bank rolls even fatter. That is called greed. There is a limit to the number of cars you should have parked in your driveway and the number of $300 pairs of jeans hanging in your closet. Those are not needs. Maybe a few rides should be taken in those $65,000 cars to the other side of the tracks where more than 1/2 of Americans live, to find out what real needs are. Donating $100 at Christmas cannot be the only "make myself feel better for my excessive lifestyle" donation that is made. It's like like Mr. Smith says in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, "I wouldn't give you two cents for all your fancy rules if behind them they didn't have a bit of plain, ordinary, everyday kindness--and a little looking out for the other fella too." Poverty isn't a sin, doing nothing about it, is.
Tell me I am too serious and too liberal, too left, too hard on the rich, too democrat. But for the record, I would vote for a Republican if he/she were the better candidate. It's just that the republican party on the whole has turned into a something of a greed machine. And that is not to say the democrats are much better. If you ask me, democracy has become less about the people it claims to represent and more about the agendas (pockets) of the people in power, so they can keep their power, get more power, and pass on the power to the few they deem deserving of it (aka, their friends). Oh, and most of these people are not actually people, they go by the names of Corporations and the three or four parent companies that own the whole lot of them. Isn't it great to know that the ones in charge of whether or not Betty gets her cancer medication are the same "people" (insurance companies) that would rather not give it to her because it means they can save a few bucks. I know I am comforted by that. But that is just a young whipper snappers naive and inexperienced opinion. I guess I should leave the real politics to some stodgy old white men who haven't done their own laundry in... oh right, ever. Cheers :)
And that was that!
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