...this is the first year we will no longer have matching DD/MM/YY...and twinkies, ho-hos, or anything made by Hostess (by the way, good job for closing yet another "made in the USA" source of jobs. Just what we need, more unemployment). I am having the same feeling I did when they announced Pluto was not a planet, and when I pulled the book from the shelf about Burma and replaced it with Myanmar. When I was flipping through the children's history book about Myanmar, no where did it mention that it used to be Burma. It goes straight from talking about its ancient history, skipping over its years as Burma, then to the present. It feels as incorrect as removing women, blacks or Jews from history books - as though they never existed or ever contributed anything. Oh wait, it already happens. *eye roll*
Gracious, Rebekah, where did the snarkiness come from today? Well, we kicked off the holidays with a death in the family (will not go into details) and fudge-awful backpain. Those two combos has turned me into a troll - you know, the kind that eats goat off the bridge. It's not the most pleasant way to start off a new year.
Last week was my official week back at work and it was difficult to look at people as they take up space and air and resources, zipping in and out on their wastful iPhones (but they cannot pay $.10 of their fines), hating their life and their kids. They have no clue how privileged they are. No clue how lucky that they can even come into a library and enjoy the free AC, browse books, use computers and have access to luxuries such as knowledge. In many countries, you cannot browse books in a library or even use computers...if there is a library at all. I watch parents treat their kids like animals (I wish I was exaggerating), grabbing, pulling and screaming at them to shut up and sit down - well, newsflash, you didn't give birth to dogs. (not saying that you should treat any animal like this either). And it sickens me that they have no idea how lucky that are to enjoy the miracle that is parenthood.
15 years ago, you only read about this kind of treatment in a newspaper from a 3rd world country or watched it on the news as the covered a story from some poor neighborhood here in the US. You didn't treat people and your kids like garbage or animals in public.
And when you tell people who you have lost, its funny how they look at you like you grew a second head, or they scowl. Either way, they offer no condolence or any sort of attempt to show one nuance of care. Instead they hate you or think you are making it up. I despise going out, I despise the idea of looking at another face of empty emotion. I wish people would just say something, anything. They can even wish my car good health, or even say "good riddance". Sounds dumb, but it's better than apathetic stares.
Nice to know that the world I considered to be fictitious exists. Scary when you've predicted all of this.
The other night, when I was laying down, trying to fall asleep, a new character formed in my mind. He wanted to join my universe. I thought about how many other characters had come and gone, no longer serving a purpose in my world. They now sit at the karaoke bar (where all my shelved characters go). I told him that maybe there is a place for you, but the world I created 15 years ago, exists now and that you will not have a happy ending. He was and still is persistent and has given me his name and profession. We'll see.
Hopefully, the next entry will be less spiteful.
Gracious, Rebekah, where did the snarkiness come from today? Well, we kicked off the holidays with a death in the family (will not go into details) and fudge-awful backpain. Those two combos has turned me into a troll - you know, the kind that eats goat off the bridge. It's not the most pleasant way to start off a new year.
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| My crappy attempt at humor this week. |
Last week was my official week back at work and it was difficult to look at people as they take up space and air and resources, zipping in and out on their wastful iPhones (but they cannot pay $.10 of their fines), hating their life and their kids. They have no clue how privileged they are. No clue how lucky that they can even come into a library and enjoy the free AC, browse books, use computers and have access to luxuries such as knowledge. In many countries, you cannot browse books in a library or even use computers...if there is a library at all. I watch parents treat their kids like animals (I wish I was exaggerating), grabbing, pulling and screaming at them to shut up and sit down - well, newsflash, you didn't give birth to dogs. (not saying that you should treat any animal like this either). And it sickens me that they have no idea how lucky that are to enjoy the miracle that is parenthood.
15 years ago, you only read about this kind of treatment in a newspaper from a 3rd world country or watched it on the news as the covered a story from some poor neighborhood here in the US. You didn't treat people and your kids like garbage or animals in public.
And when you tell people who you have lost, its funny how they look at you like you grew a second head, or they scowl. Either way, they offer no condolence or any sort of attempt to show one nuance of care. Instead they hate you or think you are making it up. I despise going out, I despise the idea of looking at another face of empty emotion. I wish people would just say something, anything. They can even wish my car good health, or even say "good riddance". Sounds dumb, but it's better than apathetic stares.
Nice to know that the world I considered to be fictitious exists. Scary when you've predicted all of this.
The other night, when I was laying down, trying to fall asleep, a new character formed in my mind. He wanted to join my universe. I thought about how many other characters had come and gone, no longer serving a purpose in my world. They now sit at the karaoke bar (where all my shelved characters go). I told him that maybe there is a place for you, but the world I created 15 years ago, exists now and that you will not have a happy ending. He was and still is persistent and has given me his name and profession. We'll see.
Hopefully, the next entry will be less spiteful.
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