Neither Boxed Nor Bagged in Cellophane

You explain that I am not. Starchy white bread pressed. Flat and baked with. Salt. And for the first time in. Can not remember. I am. Not searching for. Distance running records to be. Broken. Instead of marathon escape at. Lightning speed. I stand barefoot on. Wood splintered worn thin. Knowing there will always be a sliver waiting to. Stab skin and. Slide. Under the sole. Cautious but. Not paralyzed in place. Neither graceful nor. Jagged I mentally negotiate your. Security clearance.

Tied to a Traffic Light. Again.

In this moment. Everything is continuous mistake making. And every step is a stumble. Words. Once ally. Now enemy. I am simmering in a pot of. Alphabet soup reconstituted. S and U float by in the broth. And I need the. Letters to make the words that. I cannot seem to find. I am left. Holding R-N and T-A-Y. But I cannot seem to spell anything. Completely. Anymore.

Perhaps there are letters. Missing. Words not familiar to my. Limited vocabulary. Already eaten by the spoonful. Or maybe they never. Found their way into the can in that place where. Condensed soup is processed and. Packaged.

I take letters that remain. Attempt to. Form words. Discover that they betray me. Words. Once I felt secure and. Safe with them. Now my mouth opens. And they spill out. All wrong. And I am left alone with. What I really mean.

Once I was told that. I speak in. Vague tones. And I know that I. Hide behind language. Utilizing an Alice in Wonderland-esque vocabulary to. Distract you from the detour. A tour of the rabbit hole so that. You will forget or. Simply give up.

I am tied. To a traffic light. Naked and blindfolded. In downtown Seattle during. Rush hour. Alone with my. Intentions. Alone with my mind racing. Through a yellow light. I. Feel like a voyeur. Forced to see my. Self like this. Again.

Fragile. I do not want to. Admit that I am not always. Strong enough. Do not always. Know enough. Tired of this role. But I do not know any other. Way. In this. Moment everything has been. Rattled. Contents shifted. Into corners. I cannot manage to. Rid myself of. My overwhelming supply of. Styrofoam peanuts that. Remain.


** An acquaintance of mine recently wrote about himself in a very honest manner. I skimmed the words. Feeling like a voyeur. Or perhaps the feeling was not so much voyeuristic. But rather in the reading of his words I became uncomfortable. Not simply due to the personal nature of the admissions. But because I know that I am not always so honest with myself. And perhaps it is time.

This is the best I can manage in this moment. Thank you Sharp.

Fix the Fucked with a Side of Cocoa

Well fine. Let me be absolutely fucking honest. At least for a moment. Today is day two of crappiness. And I am ready for something different. And I don't mean mildly annoying experiences. Rather. I speak of full on crap.

Yesterday I felt crappy. And today I woke up with a continuation of said feelings of crappiness. So it would have been most preferable to crawl back into bed this morning. Pull the covers up to my nose. And remain there for the day.

But that did not happen. Because I am too fucking responsible. And quite frankly I am not so much the type of person who is particularly skilled at feeling sorry for herself. So. I got out of bed. And did all of the things that I do after getting out of bed in order to get my ass to the office.

So. I arrive at my office this morning. And I am fully aware of the fact that I am in a fairly unpleasant mood. However I am drinking tea. And listening to Book M. So even though I am feeling rather less than my typically cheerful self. Do not laugh. I am fucking cheerful. At least I am drinking tea and listening to SC3.

Attorney Number Two arrives at my office door some time before nine o'clock in the am. For those of you who have not memorized every word that I have written as of yet I will inform you that Attorney Number Two is the spandex and bandana wearing attorney.

He is in the aforementioned attire and asks me to make what seems to be a rather routine call to the UNNAMED COUNTY Probation Office. Of course the call turns out to be anything but routine. Let me explain.

First. No one is able to "find" our client in their "database" so I am transferred. And then transferred again. The second transfer involves speaking with CCO DOE. I have now moved up the ranks in the UNNAMED COUNTY Probation Office. So I explain the reason for my call to CCO DOE. And He begins laughing. Hysterically. In fact I am quite certain that he stopped breathing for a moment. I imagine him rolling around on the floor. In fact. I believe that he actually dropped the phone at some point during his laughing episode.

I wait. Patiently. Blink. Then blink again. We have a very blunt conversation about who fucked up and how they fucked up and why they fucked up. In fact the phrase "fucked up" was used numerous times throughout the course of this conversation. And I do not believe that I have ever used the phrase "fucked up" when speaking with anyone at the UNNAMED COUNTY Probation Office. But this guy is old school. And it seems to be expected.

So. I am patient. And insanely diplomatic. Even though I am using ridiculous amounts of profanity. And it appears that CCO DOE is going to try to help me out and give our client a break.

And all I had to do is offer the soul of my first born child. Little does CCO DOE know that I have promised said soul to many before him. He will have to wait in line. Or sue me.

So now I wait to see if CCO DOE is going to make good on his promise. Even though the insanity of the situation is not the fault of our poor little client. He could get royally fucked by said fuck up. So I had to kiss some CCO ass. I am fine with this. Because I am all about getting my way. In the end. So I wait.

But maybe I am not so much fine with this today. And perhaps it is because I am already in a rather unpleasant mood. But permit to say the following: I am sick of cleaning up every fucking mess all of the bitch ass damn time. And here is what really gets me. I must always be the fucking diplomatic one. Because that is the only way shit ever gets accomplished. And there are times when I do not want to be the diplomatic one.

There are times when I want to stab someone in the eye with a fork. But I am fully aware that I cannot simply go around stabbing everyone in the eye with a fork. Someone would eventually object.

So I tell the attorney of said fucked-up-ness. His response is for me to tell CCO DOE that he said to fuck off. Now of course I will not tell this guy that the attorney told him to fuck off. I will also not relay the string of obscenities that poured from his mouth after I explained the circumstances of said fucked-up-ness. Because this will not assist our client in what has become an enormous fucking nightmare.

However. I can not help but wonder what would happen if I did relay the string of obscenities directed at said CCO. I would only be doing as I was instructed. It could prove interesting.

Perhaps I should secure alternate employment before attempting such an action.

Now I am most certain that I will spend the overwhelming majority of the day resolving this issue. And once said issue has been resolved I will question why the fuck I cannot seem to resolve my own personal life issues as easily. However you will notice the continuing lack of question mark punctuation at the end of the previous sentence. Because in this moment I am not certain that I can handle the answer.

So I have decided something. I am going to get up from my desk. And walk out of my office. And go make some cocoa.

Some simple. Semblance of. Escapism.

Sometimes I can only. Communicate in short chopped. Up sentences. There is no significance to. The break it is. Something I cannot. Explain in explaining where. I am today. Simple and. Seemingly fragile.

Just for a moment. I want to be. Disconnected from. Everything. I want to be. Away from. This place that keeps me. Spinning. Circles. Just for a moment. I want to. Go. Think. Not think. Everything I have been. Thinking. Feel. Not feel. Everything I have been. Feeling. Listen. Not listen. Turn off all sound. For a moment. I must escape. Run from this. And I do not know. What. This. Is. Run from this. Again. Again. Eye on the door I. Resist the urge. Hard like. Some magnetic force pulling me. Up and out. Stronger than. I ever thought. This time. Different. But it isn't and. It never really is. Just for a moment I want to. Stop running. Stop and stay and. Say something instead of. Praying for. Disconnect. My prayers are. Always answered eventually. For a moment I want to. Pray for something different. Pray to stop and stay right. Here. Now. Even if the answers are. All wrong.

Those Who Would Sacrifice Liberty for Security Deserve Neither

Alberto Gonzalez is on the rampage. Again. But this time. Something interesting happened. So. Fairly recently the Attorney General arrived at Georgetown Law School for a speaking engagement on the NSA no-warrant wiretapping program. Yes. I said no-warrant. If you do not know about this. You should. Because I know you think that this cannot possibly affect you. But it can. I encounter individuals every day who are average citizens in crisis. Many have never so much as received a speeding ticket. And then one day. Something insane happened to change their life forever.

So. Alberto gave a little talk. And he was clearly mimicking the voice of his predecessor and the general Bush party line in his sentiments that such programs were necessary in a world of terrorism in order to keep our country safe. Because of course the safety of the American people is of the utmost importance.

And here is what I am really wondering. I am wonder who does and who does not feel safe. And I am wondering for those people who do not feel safe. When did you stop feeling safe. I mean really. When did these overwhelming feelings of unsafeness begin. Or has it been a progression of unsafe feelings over time. How did this begin. And why is it continuing.

But let me back up for a moment. Yes. Let me say this. For those of you who don't know. Because I feel this is important.

I spent the overwhelming majority of my life living on the east coast in the tri-state area. I lived within spitting distance of New York City and spent a great deal of time there. I have had and continue to have friends and family that live in the area. On September 11, 2001 my world fell apart. I could not fathom that such an event could occur in my own country. But my family could. So. Let me explain further. And then I will back up again.

My life is what one might call the epitome of what it means to be American. My paternal grandparents immigrated from Sicily in the early 1900's with nothing. And while they spent there entire life with pretty much nothing, it was more than they had in their home country. Additionally, my mother escaped her native Hungary at the age of eighteen in 1956 during the Hungarian Revolution. She left her war torn homeland for a chance at freedom. And freedom was something she never knew her entire life. Not for one single breath. She left the only home she had ever known. She left all of her family. Her country, her culture, her language. Everything for freedom.

Both parents respectively loved and love the United States. They embraced this country, its culture, language, and community.

So. I heard more than my fair share of war stories growing up. And how grateful my parents were to have to opportunity to live in this country. So I get more than a little bit pissed off when conservatives tell me that I do not love my country because I do not agree with this or that and that I do not respect the values in which this country was founded upon. In fact. I get a little twitch. Sometimes in the left eye. Sometimes the right. And it is probably a very good thing that I have not embraced all of my constitutional rights and purchased a firearm. It would be too easy to shoot one of these arrogant ignorant individuals in the face.

But I digress.

I was speaking about the tragedy this country experienced on September 11, 2001. Let me explain this. When I heard about what happened I was riding a Metro bus on my way to my job at Company F. There was a young teenage boy telling someone about airplanes flying into buildings in New York and I thought he was playing a prank. Because I know the area. I have been there many times. I can see it in my mind to this day although I can not fathom the current landscape. And I am not certain that I want to attempt to do so. So what I am saying is that I know intimately what this really means. So naturally I imagined it not possible.

But we all know it was possible and I arrived at Company F with my co-worker and cubicle neighbor New York D waiting for me. He confirmed it all. And we cried together. I attempted to reach those that I love who still reside in the area. And while it took the majority of the day to do so, I was thankful to find that everyone was alive and well.

Although to this day I do not know if people I once knew perished in the tragedy. People who I did not keep in touch with over the years. Or casual acquaintances. I do not know and perhaps I never will. And sometimes I think about this.

The point I am trying to make is that I more than some and less than others am fully aware of the impact this event had on our country. It changed everything. And it changed it forever. I am still overcome with emotion. I have yet to return to New York due to my being emotionally unable to do so. It is only now that I am starting to feel ready.

And with that said I will continue with the entire reason I am writing this post. Alberto Gonzales. Georgetown Law School. And our freedom.

So our pal Alberto decides to give a little talk at Georgetown Law School. He is trying to explain exactly why it is we are no longer safe and why we need this new law in order to keep us all safe and snug like a bug in a rug. And he did this all using the events of September 11, 2001 as a shield for the piss poor policy that is changing the shape of our country. I am insulted and offended by this tactic. And I am insulted and offended that political leaders are purposely instilling fear into the hearts and minds of the American people in order to pass their agenda swiftly and virtually unnoticed.

People want to feel safe. And for some reason people don't feel safe. I question why people really don't feel safe. I believe we are bombarded from all sides with news and images and information that is meant to terrify. Terrify us all down to the core of our being. And now that we are terrified. Someone is purporting to have the answers.

And it can be hard to know who has the answers. But it is important to look at all of the information in its entirety. I certainly cannot do this in this post. And that is not my goal. I am not unbiased. But are any of us really unbiased. And is that possible. Can we ever be unbiased. Perhaps it is better to admit our biases. Come clean. Put them out there. And allow people to take everything we say and do with the filter in place.

So. The ACLU and the Center for Constitutional Rights have had quite a bit to say about the legality of this program. Lawsuits have been filed. The ACLU website has a great deal of information on this topic and other topics affecting the freedoms in our country. You should check it for yourself.

But what was I saying. Oh yes. Something. Happened. Some of the law students at Georgetown University turned their backs on ol' Alberto. They refused to continue to accept what they were being told. They refused to just sit there and listen.

Check the Georgetown U Article for the full scoop.

And I think it is time that those of us who are like-minded turn our backs on these policies that serve to tear apart the things that make this country an amazing place. It is an insult to those who have and continue to fight so hard to make the United States their home. Now this is not to say that there isn't a great deal to be critical about. And isn't it wonderful that we have the freedom to be critical of things here. And it doesn't even matter if they said things involve serious critique or something silly.

But what if one day we no longer have that freedom. My mother tells me of a time when my family in Hungary had that freedom. And then I hear about what happened when it was slowly taken away until there was nothing left.

Let me also say that I have had many moments of paralysis. I know from my conversations with many of you that you have them as well. And I am not saying that we need to take to the streets in good old fashioned protest. I do not believe that is always the answer. There needs to be a variety of solutions. Various actions from various directions. Perhaps there are ways of protesting that work for us on an individual level. Perhaps it is a simple as educating yourself by actually reading the Patriot Act. Or giving a copy to someone else. Posting flyers on telephone poles around the city in the hopes of educating others. Finding a way to express your disdain artistically. Talking with friends or family or co-workers. Making bubbles. Something. Anything.

Because if not you, then who? Really.