My thoughts are with the students at VT this morning as they return to classes today. I’m so impressed with the courage and solidarity that they’ve demonstrated this past week. Part of me thinks that if this had happened at my alma mater, thoughts would have turned to, “Shit, I knew I should have gone to Arizona State!”
I can’t even listen to the media discuss this issue right now. I did watch Meet the Press on my DVR last night (’cause really, who wakes up at 7am on a Sunday morning to watch this?) and it was on. And on. And on and on and on. I felt a little embarrassed for the panelists, who had their talking points and rhetoric prepared, but ultimately had no answers. I didn’t envy them because who can know why something like this happens, how to prevent it, how to “solve” it (that’s rich)?
Gotta find a bad guy, gotta find some solution, ‘cause that’s what we do. Sure a discussion about gun control is worth our time. Should we give guns to crazy people? No. Moving on, next. Should we enforce the rules that are already on the books? Yes. Back to Anna Nicole Smith’s baby daddy drama.
Bad people will find a way if they want it bad enough, guns or no guns. My question is, are the actions of one person a reflection on some evil, deeply-rooted societal cancer? Can we diagnose it, prevent it, cure it? You know, people doing bad things is not a trend, it’s not new. It is what it is, it is the world we live in.
I hope that we don’t spend a lot of time pointing fingers and blaming people for what they didn’t do to prevent this. I hope I don’t see 5,000 biographical profiles of Seung Hui Cho but I know I will. I prefer to keep my chin up, remember that life is short and precious and anything can happen, might as well live while we’re here and do our best to make the world better. I think that’s what the students at VT are doing today. Life presses on, it always does somehow and will for some time I reckon.
I celebrated Earth Day by picking up trash around my neighborhood. Within two hours I had four, count them four full heavy-duty lawn bags of garbage collected—and I didn’t even make it past the immediate area surrounding my building. This ain’t the downtown district anymore, this is the hood*, but still. Man it was gross.
* I just bought a condo and moved the beginning of this year, more on that later.
Picking up trash isn’t a major contribution to solving the world’s energy crisis or anything, but it makes a big difference in my universe. And you know, it ended up being a nice day. I got outside, got some exercise and fresh air, and socialized with my homies.
I met a Anita who lives across the alley, super cool. She said that I’ll enjoy living here, that the people are really very nice. She’s always lived in neighborhoods like this she said, and once you’re in it’s fine, it’s only scary to outsiders. Haha that’s awesome.
I am a home girl now. \m/
I chatted with another neighbor, a guy that lives in my building (I’m becoming fast friends with all of my neighbors, they’re teh awesome). He borrowed my squeegie and bucket so he could clean his windows, I continued to pick up crap around the block and we talked about planting sunflowers and how the people that rent the one remaining unsold unit are real assholes for letting their dogs shit everywhere and dig holes in the landscaping and when are they going to get an owner in there anyway.
Across the street there’s always a lot of walking traffic. I’ve not yet quite sorted out where they’re coming from or where they are going, but I believe a lot of them are homeless. Every one of them had nice things to say about me cleaning up the street, “Thank you” and “Good job” and “How nice of you” and “If you find any money I lost it last week.”
I had a 15 minute conversation with a Vietnam Vet who stopped to chat. He “knew this place when there was nothing here but dirt roads.” He said “You know it’s just disgusting how all the homeless people walk by here and drop their trash.” Then he said, “I was homeless once, but I’d never do that.”
I crashed a party on the corner. We have this corner, the city built a nice gazebo type structure and it has big ceramic pots for flowers and landscaping and stuff. In the winter I think it’s a hangout or a meeting ground for people to party, or to buy drugs, I don’t really know I’m naive about such things.
So anyway, there were these two ladies with some groceries sitting on the flower planter, with a half-eaten sandwich sitting on the dirt and some Monarch Vodka and I think some beers I was trying not to be nosy. I said something along the lines of, “Hi ladies, I made a clean spot and now I can’t stop, how are you today?” The first lady was friendly enough, eager to engage me in a conversation about a puppy that she just met three blocks over and about her last puppy that she got from a box dropped off at Costco. She reeked of alcohol, it was about 11:30am by then. I didn’t want to spend all day talking about puppies, nothing against puppies, so I bent down and continued talking while picking up garbage. I reached over to a big pile of something that turned out to be vomit. I started to hurl, in fact I’m starting to hurl right now just thinking about it, and I reacted by saying to the woman, “Oh my God, I guess I can’t pick that up” and she didn’t miss a beat, more about that puppy. Maybe it was her vomit and she was embarrassed.
It was nice, getting out and cleaning up a little bit, talking to some characters. I feel better having done something for Mother Earth on her special day. But I draw the line at touching stranger vomit.
It’s suppose it’s harder for me to understand the fuss because I’m not a parent in today’s modern age. My reference of understanding comes from my experience having been a kid and having parents. Only those were the days of wooden paddles hanging in the principal’s office, people.
I remember my dad losing his cool. Like when I behaved, unmercilessly and unrelentingly, like a horrendously disrespectful and defiant little twat. And he wasn’t even battling Kim Basinger in a gruesome custody battle for me or anything. I’m glad he cared enough to lose his shit and set me straight. Thanks dad.
It’s not justifiable, but it’s not like he lit her hair on fire either.
Let’s face it, he didn’t hijack a plane and he is no Imus. No one should talk to their kids like that, but guess what, kids do the darndest things. 11 is the new 14, and middle school agers are (sometimes) manipulative and selfish brats. Had I known a judge would stop me from seeing my parents, I would have recorded everything they said and I could have grown up in a foster home. Check please.
Pay special attention to the very last few seconds (approx 12 seconds from the end) when he’s talking about flying out there to “straighten her ass out”—he breaks character for a millisecond to make sure she hears the date clearly. L.O.L.
It’s been the better part of a year since I’ve posted to this blog. I’ve missed blogging, but didn’t want to return until I knew I was really ready. I decided today to just get something up!, so I went on a bit of a bender and this is the result. If it’s wonky, or ugly, or broken ... it’s because I’ve not moved from my desk or rested my eyeballs since late afternoon ... it’s now 5:24 a.m.
Design is always important to me, it’s who I am, but I really just want to write again.
I love these creative binges though. Uninterrupted, silent, peaceful, focused—just me, my waterfall, my aromatherapy burner and reruns of Coach or something playing in the background.
I’m a different person than I was a year ago, and I’m especially different since first starting Chepooka. I thought very seriously about starting over with a new domain, a new everything. But then decided that I am my past, present and future. And I’m happy about all of those things.
I’m learning to not take myself too seriously. To be patient. To be as nice to myself as I’m capable of being to others. Junk like that. So there’s lots and lots to say, and I’m glad to be back!
