There's been so much lately to write about, but the cosmos conspires against me to keep me from speaking out. Desktop dying, blog software failing, laptop limping along, relearning new software...
Perhaps it's a good thing that I haven't been able to speak, so to say. I'm furious; my outrage has no bounds. I can't even begin to put into words the anger I feel. What would I say that would be coherent? There's just much to be flat out pissed off about right now.
What frustrates me and enrages me even more is the sleepwalking -- the torpor of the drug that is every day living in America, that has blinded people to the truth. Even my spouse, the man with whom I spoon every night under the fluffy down coverlet of our suburban middle-class bed, plods along every day pulled inexorably by the demands of his work and the life he's constructed around it. He gets the news in little bits and pieces, soundbites in the car between pop tunes and flashes on CNN in terminal or the 6:30 evening news if he makes home in time catch it.
Nor does he have the time to research anything, is not a student of history or law, has no clue as to the source of any outrage that people like me or my friends feel. It's as if we live in separate worlds, in tandem, parallel.
There are times when I wish I lived in truly blue state; people assume because I'm in Michigan that this is blue country, that progressives can wear their hearts on their sleeves. Far from it. Rural areas of Michigan are red, red; I live in the heart of conservative fly-over country. I have to watch what I say and what I do, mind my manners to the point of suffocation. No bumperstickers on my car. No lapel pins. No badges. No T-shirts. I have to live the life of an manager's wife, be ordinary, blend into the scenery like a chameleon. I am white on white, a snowflake making no impression on the drift of snow around me.
This only increases my frustration, feeling like I must be invisible. And I have to be this way not only for my personal safety, but for that of my kids; I can't even encourage my kids to open and themselves. I've had to squelch any comments my son makes that are anti-administration, even though he is a tender eight years old and still acquiring the skills of discretion.
How is this acceptable? How is it okay for my kids to have to be something other than themselves? How is it okay for me to be unable to be myself? How can I fight my way back to what used to be normalcy in America?
I feel as if I am living in a science fiction movie, or a piece of speculative fiction.
Calls to mind this piece in particular: I have no mouth and I must scream...
Perhaps it's a good thing that I haven't been able to speak, so to say. I'm furious; my outrage has no bounds. I can't even begin to put into words the anger I feel. What would I say that would be coherent? There's just much to be flat out pissed off about right now.
What frustrates me and enrages me even more is the sleepwalking -- the torpor of the drug that is every day living in America, that has blinded people to the truth. Even my spouse, the man with whom I spoon every night under the fluffy down coverlet of our suburban middle-class bed, plods along every day pulled inexorably by the demands of his work and the life he's constructed around it. He gets the news in little bits and pieces, soundbites in the car between pop tunes and flashes on CNN in terminal or the 6:30 evening news if he makes home in time catch it.
Nor does he have the time to research anything, is not a student of history or law, has no clue as to the source of any outrage that people like me or my friends feel. It's as if we live in separate worlds, in tandem, parallel.
There are times when I wish I lived in truly blue state; people assume because I'm in Michigan that this is blue country, that progressives can wear their hearts on their sleeves. Far from it. Rural areas of Michigan are red, red; I live in the heart of conservative fly-over country. I have to watch what I say and what I do, mind my manners to the point of suffocation. No bumperstickers on my car. No lapel pins. No badges. No T-shirts. I have to live the life of an manager's wife, be ordinary, blend into the scenery like a chameleon. I am white on white, a snowflake making no impression on the drift of snow around me.
This only increases my frustration, feeling like I must be invisible. And I have to be this way not only for my personal safety, but for that of my kids; I can't even encourage my kids to open and themselves. I've had to squelch any comments my son makes that are anti-administration, even though he is a tender eight years old and still acquiring the skills of discretion.
How is this acceptable? How is it okay for my kids to have to be something other than themselves? How is it okay for me to be unable to be myself? How can I fight my way back to what used to be normalcy in America?
I feel as if I am living in a science fiction movie, or a piece of speculative fiction.
Calls to mind this piece in particular: I have no mouth and I must scream...
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