MY Political Agenda

Noboday can flame me because nobody is reading this! HA!
Something has been bothering me for a long time, but it is time to give voice to it. Our country is the greatest country on earth, with the best form of government man can organize. Granted, my church believes God's kingdom, with Jesus in charge, will be the perfect form of communism, and I believe in that to a degree. But democracy (really, a representative republic is what we have) is as good as man can get. I believe in this.
Where I have a hard time is when I look around and realize the American Dream, once a proud notion, has changed drastically in the last 50 years or so. During the first Great Depression in the early '30s, Americans dreamed of a time when their hard work would pay enough that they could get a phone in the house, or a new cart horse, or fix the barn that had been falling down for two years. They wanted nothing more than feed for the cow so they could have milk with their wheat cereal. But they fully intended to work for it, and work hard enough to kill themselves, if need be.
Those men and women were true Americans. There was no shame in working hard for what they had, and it was a bit distasteful when people grew "too big for their britches" as they moved to cities and became "soft" by working behind desks or in offices. That type of employment wasn't "working" to the average American. Government funding was given to American soldiers who had fought for the country in the First World War. Car makers and stock brokers and Farmers all lost their livelihoods, and thousands of Americans starved to death or died of disease that attacked those people who didn't have enough food or water to keep them healthy. Neighbors helped when they could, but often they just couldn't. The average American lived on 200 acres of land, less than 1000 square feet of it was taken up by their residence, including the barn. Often the barn was larger than the house and housed far more living things than the house did. The average American family had no car, no refrigerator, no television, no phone, no running water, and one radio. The average American family consisted of a man, his wife, and their 4 children. Often, one of the grandparents lived in the home with the family. The kids usually shared a single room, often in an unheated loft. The house is owned and was built by the family living in it. It was heated by burning wood or coal.
The average American girl had hair below her shoulders, one pair of shoes, four dresses, and didn't date until she was 16. The average American girl did not have pierced ears, and makeup was only for the very wealthy. They would pinch their cheeks to make them rosy before a date. 1 in 1000 teenage girls ended up pregnant.
The average American boy was working a full time job when he was 14, often on a farm or in a store in town. His hair was cut above his ears, and he usually owned two pairs of pants, a pair of boots, and a heavy woolen coat for working outside. If he got a girl pregnant, they got married and lived happily ever after. He usually did not finish high school, but he wasn't considered a drop-out, because he was working and paying his own way.
Flash forward to the '90s in this great nation. Now the average American doesn't own a shovel or a hoe. The average American lives on approximately 5000 square feet of land, nearly half of which is taken up by their lodging. The average American works less than 40 hours a week, and draws some kind of government funding at some people throughout their lives. The average American family consists of a man and his live-in girlfriend, and 1.8 children, living in a 2000 square-foot home that someone else owns. There are no grandparents in the home; they are stuffed in nursing homes where total strangers take care of them until they die. The average family has two cars, including at least one payment, 4 TVs, a refrigerator, running water and two bathrooms, at least 1 computer with internet service, and some kind of gaming system. The average American child doesn't know that milk comes out of a cow and thinks eggs are made in grocery stores.
The average teenage girl has hair above her shoulders and does not own a dress. She has at least 10 pairs of shoes, her own phone that she can carry around with her, and "dates" when she is 13. 1 in 18 teenage girls become pregnant.
The average teenage boy has hair below his shoulders, pants that hang from his hips and show his underwear, and has his own phone to carry around with him. If the average teenage boy gets a girl pregnant, she can't prove it because of how many boys she was with during the time when she could have become pregnant, so he pretends he doesn't know her and finds a new girl to be with.
The average American screams about equal rights for everyone, but can't even cook their own dinner without something that comes in a box. The average American demands free health care, utility assistance, and food stamps, but refuses to work anywhere that won't pay $20 an hour. The average American depends on the government for everything from food to housing to health care and clothing, yet complains that they don't get enough to survive.
There is something out of whack here. This "greatest" country has enabled the people herein for so long that a collapse of government would utterly destroy and end the lives of 2 billion people. Government has taken the place of parents and teachers and isn't teaching us anything except how to be lazy and complacent.
It is time to stand up and stop taking handouts. It is time to stand up and fend for ourselves. It is time we stand up and take care of ourselves and those around us. It is time we turn this country around into something worth standing up for. It is time we revive the REAL American dream.

Well, this is what I learned today.

First, I've noticed for several years that I can do well in not overeating all day long, but almost as soon as my husband walks through the door, I am at the fridge, in the cupboards, or rifling through the deep freeze for something to eat. I've had my suspicions as to why they were related, but today I think I really figured it out.

Here is what went down at my house this afternoon. I was in here studying for my AEPA exam. Well, I've been taking practice tests for months, and the social studies section is kicking my ass, to put it as mildly as possible while still emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. I have no clue why World War II is considered a bad war. Aren't all wars bad? Okay, so I am worried, deeply worried, because I know with the state of Arizona's budget that come July when new teachers are being hired and placed, they are only going to consider the very best of the best. People who don't pass the AEPA the first time just won't be considered. I'm worried that this section will keep me from passing. So I've been studying hard. Plus today is the first day of the new semester, and I have three assignments due by Friday.

So I'm studying and he walks in and I say casually but with seriousness, "I'm not even going to pass the test!" He walks by like I hadn't said a thing. I feel a wiggle in my stomach. A few minutes later, I say something about there being no jobs anyway, and he walks into the bathroom, changes his shirt, and walks out into the living room. Now the wiggle is crawling up my back. Keep in mind that while he's been playing golf or basketball or whatever it is that he does all day, I have yet to speak an entire sentence to another human being. It has been at least 8 hours since I talked to an adult, even to say hello. My dad called this morning, or it would have been more like 20 hours. So, like I've been reduced to a freakin dog, I follow him in the living room, where he picks up Houstan and gives him a hug and punches Louis in the arm and says something like "how was your day, Koda baby?" I'm looking left and right to make sure I am actually still in the room. So I say to him, "they say they are going to close the lake to try to make up some of the budget." "Hmph," he says as he reaches around the corner and grabs a hat. "I think I'm going to go over and see if Jeff needs any help getting the shingles onto his roof. How long til dinner?" "20 minutes until the rice is done," and I am left with those wiggles now in my jaw, clenching and unchlenching it, grinding my teeth, and a curious anger and frustration building in my neck and shoulders. I roll my head (and my eyes) to try to relieve the stress and go back to sauteeing chicken. No more words. Then, it is after dark when he comes back in, after Dakota and I have already eaten, and he eats and puts stuff away. Then he comes in while I am taking yet another practice test, THAT IS TIMED, and starts talking about stuff to do with work that I know he talked to his mom about 6 hours ago when it was fresh in his mind, and expects me to listen attentively and offer up words of encouragement or awe, or whatever.

This is not uncommon. In fact, it doesn't vary at all. He gets to go away from this house all day, for 10 hours, and although my life at home isn't terribly exciting, things do go on here that I might want to talk about. I am a very talkative person to begin with, so when my entire day's worth of words can be written on two lines of regular notebook paper, that is a cause for serious frustration on my part. On top of that, I realize that not only do I feel like what I do here is worthless, he does too. Why else would he not want to hear anything about it?

So where do I go to have these emotional need met? Food. Food never lets me down. It makes me feel bloated and tired, but at least when I am tired and sleeping, I can dream of brilliant, beautiful men who listen to me and care about what I have to say, and who want to hold my hand and rub my hair and lean my head against their chest and say, "Don't worry. You are wonderful, everyone wants you to work for them," or "You are the most beautiful, intelligent woman I know, and I know you will make things happen for us." And we talk for hours, and they whisper sweet things to me, and tell me that I am too thin because in my dreams, my dream husband cares about what I have to say so I don't turn to food for comfort. But then I wake up and realize it was all a dream and that makes me depressed and I go grab some hot cocoa with hazelnut creamer and some whole grain toast with Jif crunchy peanut butter. A midnight snack that consists of nothing but sugar, carbs, and fat, and about 600 calories. But I eat it and I enjoy it, and all the while I am screaming at myself very loudly in my mind that I do not want it, I should not eat it, and that I know I am going to hate myself for eating it.

And I do. And that depresses me, and so I lay in bed as long as I can the next morning, telling myself I will do better today, and I eat only egg whites and hash browns with no oil or butter for breakfast and a salad for lunch, with fat-free Caesar Italian dressing, and I do so awesome--Until 4:40, and Garry walks in the door. And those familiar wiggles start crawling through my stomach, up my spine, and my teeth clench, and my neck hurts, and all I want to do is go for a long run, but it is cold, and there are brownies left over from last night. Louis made them, and they have nuts and marshmallows on top, and I even bought milk today to go with them...

Frustration

Nobody's reading this, so unlike the diary I once had at mydeardiary.com (no longer a real "place"), I can't seem to get any feedback from anything I write. It seems that what I once said that I live a life nobody envies is completely accurate. In fact, I live a life so dull and boring that nobody even knows or cares that it exists. But that's okay, because I can write things on here that I know my more-frequently-read counterparts could not write because people we know would read it.

My problem tonight is that I haven't had anything published for over a year and I have to say the biggest reason is because I have been so focused on school and just getting through my life that I haven't written anything publishable in over a year! I've been trying to finish this one book for like three years, but every time I get the notion and the ideas to write down, life kicks in. Either it's the beginning of a new semester, or one of the kids is sick, or I volunteer to do something for someone. The biggest problem is that when I am out of school, I will be a certified teacher, and I won't have a job. The state of the state and federal budget is such that even after 8 years of college and thousands of dollars of debt, I will still be sitting here, on my ass, eating junk to hide my feelings, getting fatter and fatter, and probably still trying to finish this book. After all the sweat, the blood, the tears, and the broken relationships I am destroying even as I write this entry, I will still be unemployed, "worthless" as my husband says and I feel. A failure.

For 14 years, I have not had one cent that I didn't have to either beg my husband for or sell a belonging to get. For 14 years I have dreamed of the day that I would be drawing a steady paycheck that I could have a little bit of control over, and because of some very stupid and crooked politicians, it will likely be another 14 before I have the job I've studied countless hours to earn. I'm just so tired of being so dependent, so unproductive...so worthless. I am so tired of begging for $1 to buy a soda or a box of tampons. I'm just sick and tired of having no control over anything in my life. I'm just frustrated, I guess...

Holiday Revolt

So Christmas is over, as well as New Year's. Now that is a "holiday" I completely don't understand. January 1 is no more special than June 12 or October 24. And people say the same idiotic thing to you every time December 31st rolls around: "See ya next year" as if it were funny. Anyway, call me a cynic, but whatever. I don't believe in celebrating fake "holidays".

Well, I'm actually a scrooge. Look it up, and it has my picture...with a scowl. There was a time when Thanksgiving (the only holiday worth celebrating anymore) was a day that people gave thanks, said prayers, and rejoiced that the ignorant white race wasn't wiped off the face of the planet by our own stupidity. Supposedly it was a celebration of a good harvest and a rewarding relationship with the Native Peoples. Yeah, then we took all their land, killed them with plagues and drunkenness and forced them to assimilate to our culture, diet, and religion to the point where many Native people don't even know who and what they are. Yeah, that is REALLY something to celebrate...

Valentine's Day is the hokiest one there is. Thought up by some woman who was pissed off at her husband for forgetting both her birthday and their anniversary, Valentine's Day is just another day to make married people feel like crap that the romance and lovey-ness has gone out of their lives, and to remind the old that they are old and "comfortable" (a.k.a. forgotten) and that life is about the young and "fresh" (a.k.a. not parents). I don't celebrate it, I never have, and I probably never will. I don't see the point of hyping up a day about a Saint, when I am not even Catholic, and in celebrating "love", just reminding myself that although I have love, there is no romance, and until my children leave, I am a mom and nothing more.

I believe in St. Patrick's Day. Yes, I know he is a patron Saint, and I know I'm not Catholic, but I AM Irish, so handle it. Besides, I like green, and I LOVE corned beef and soda bread. Get off me.

Halloween is disgusting and sick. It is the best time of year for perverts to dress up in costumes and get little children to touch them, even if it is just on the hand taking candy. I hate masks, I despise blood and gore, and there really isn't anything cool about staying up with my 5 year old for weeks because of a scary rubber face on a 7-foot-tall man. That is just not my idea of a good time.

See my previous post for my Christmas peeve.

Easter is supposed to be a very solemn holiday. Easter, the anniversary of the day when Jesus Christ rose from the dead to redeem all of mankind, has turned into a charade. People dress up like rabbits and hide eggs in the grass. What, exactly, does that have to do with God's ultimate sacrifice? How does colored eggs help us to remember the price Christ paid so that we can repent and not suffer eternal damnation? It just pisses me off how this world can allow something so special, so sacred, and so incredibly selfless turn into just another way to make a few dollars.

And for those who aren't Christian...stop trying to take what is sacred to us and turn it into another party. If you don't believe in Christ, there is absolutely no reason to celebrate Easter. Or Christmas, or even Halloween, as it was originally supposed to be a religious holiday. And if you are Christian, as I am, you will refuse to "celebrate" these holidays by spending money and giving the retailers cash to cushion their already too-plump pocketbooks. Religious holidays should be religious, not commercial.

Join me in a holiday revolution! Refuse to buy egg-coloring kits! Spend time with your families, reading scriptures, making memories instead of debt. Laugh, joke, have fun! Deny "the man" the satisfaction of raking us over the coals! Join me! Who's with me?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Well, it was worth a try.