I am absolutely bursting at the seems to put word to paper today. You will have to forgive me if I veer wildly off course or make no sense or connection. My work schedule over the past month has become wildly unpredictable. Maniacally motivated as I am in 2011, I have made adjustments, getting up even earlier to squeeze in exercise time and try to write. The way things have gone I often only have time for one of these. Exercise comes first because I know I will not do it when I get home.
I try not to whine too much because I need the hours. Twenty years ago I would never have predicted that phrase to become prominent in my vocabulary. I was a pampered salaried employee with a predictable paycheck. But the harsh truth today is - I need the hours. I have learned over a lifetime as a pseudo-adult that it takes money to buy food. And it takes work to get money. So there you have it.
As the writing opportunities become sporadic, my brain backs up with thoughts careening around my skull like a pinball. So here we go.
America is barbaric. Troy Davis was executed last night. I am not familiar with all the details but apparently there was enough doubt to put this thing on hold. The fact that he was a black man accused of killing a white cop in the state of Georgia is all the doubt that I need. If you don't think that racial prejudice is a huge factor in jury decisions, than you must believe in Peter Pan. If you don't think racial prejudice is alive and well in this country, think about how many times you have heard President Barack Obama described as a nigger.
I don't know Troy Davis' history and I don't need to know it. I know that humans make mistakes, I know they are prejudiced, I know that irrational emotion often trumps objective thought. I have only recently become enlightened enough to no longer believe in the death penalty. If we knew how many innocent people have been executed in this country, we would be horrified. Think about the last minute of life for a person wrongly sentenced to death, lying on that gurney waiting for the lethal drip to snuff out his life. Can you even imagine the panic, the fear, the sadness, the outrage at knowing you are about to die for something you didn't do? Barbaric.
republicans don't feel these emotions. Witness the applause when Texas' execution record under Rick Perry was applauded at the last buffoon debate. There are a lot of people who think this way. Blindly stupid, vindictive, cretins all.
And Perry stood there with that smug look on his face knowing that god is on his side. I'm sure jesus whips up a bowl of Orville Redenbachers Heavenly Pop Corn, heavy on the butter, and cracks open an ice cold Natty Light as he looks down on another execution with a benign smile.
Let me make it simple. As a species, we are not intelligent enough to guarantee anyone a fair trial. The death penalty is wrong.
Next topic: The American Dream is Dead. Watching Morning Joe on MSNBC this morning and the topic came up; got me thinking. Hope is virtually impossible for us 98 per centers who struggle to get by. And the 2 per centers laugh at us and exploit us. My life is going backwards. Used to be you would work all your life and look forward to a pension, social security and the appreciation of your house into a major financial asset. Today's reality is that a pension and even social security are not guaranteed, and your house is worth LESS now than when you bought it. Carol tried to re-finance to lower our rate and maybe improve our standard of living from cat food to dog food (fish food makes a lovely football day snack). We were denied because our house is valued at around $70,000 less than the last time we refinanced. We are trapped. We cannot get even a tiny bit of breathing room because the housing market has gone stupid.
I cannot envision retirement. We couldn't survive on social security and we have no pensions or goddamn 401K. I will drop dead at the age of 101 in Store 72 unless I engineer dramatic change. You can no longer work hard and expect to be rewarded at some point in your life. You are fighting against greedy corporations, an inept government, a cold hearted financial network, and a general disregard for the middle class. You are alone and that just doesn't work.
I have a dream. I write. I write because I have to. I have to because it is who I am. It is my heart, it is my soul, it is my very essence. I also write because I believe I can find a way to make some money from it. I do not expect to get rich; I would be happy making enough extra money to bring some dignity into my life. This dream is the only thing that keeps me going. It is probably unrealistic. Writing is a hard way to earn cash. If I knew for sure that my life now is the way it is going to be until I kick, I couldn't handle it. Seagrams' sales of Crown Royal would triple.
But I don't know that, so I keep moving. There are billions of people out there who don't have a dream. I don't know how they make it.
I'm done. That felt good while simultaneously feeling bad.
I'm so confused.
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