Where is the love?

I just started to bitch to my friend about the stupidity of people, but instead I decided to save her from that and rant and rave on my blog. People have the right to their own opinions and beliefs. However, those opinions can be so ignorant, short-sighted, and narrow-minded. I recently signed a FB petition to designate the Arctic Refuge as a national monument. Being a lover of nature, I think it is highly important to save as much of it as possible before it's all mowed down by big stinky machines to make way for more box houses and strip malls. My cousin ridiculed me for it because he thinks it would be a waste of resources and jobs. Is he really that selfish? Oh god, what would we do without granite countertops? I don't even know if there's granite there; I'm assuming there is, but I think you get the point. Even if we tapped into that, the tap will run dry someday - whether it's oil, or stone to make counters and floors for the rich, or timber. There's not an unlimited supply of that. Haven't people learned yet? Climate change? Oh wait, that's a scam, a bogus theory, a lie. What about the oil spill, huh? What about the 11 human lives that were lost, the countless human lives that were affected, the loss of sea life and nature? What we do to nature we also do to ourselves. Don't forget that the Louisiana wetlands lose about the area of a football field a day because of human interference. I see humans in general as disgusting, despicable creatures. There are some beautiful humans I know; beautiful physically, intelligently, and/or spiritually. Unfortunately, they don't make up for the rest of the damage humans caused. I told my cousin that every animal has as much right to be on this earth than any human. He'll probably read that and think, "Tree-huggin' hippy." That is fine by me. I'd rather be that than a short-sighted, selfish destructor of life that only sees what nature has to offer for my benefit. I don't understand how people do not care. It's that lack of caring that got us here.

Stupid Is as Stupid Does

I was watching Smoking Gun's Dumbest Criminals the other day (I highly recommend it if you want a good laugh - better than America's Funniest Videos, and yes, this guy was on it), and I've wondered for a long time why are so many criminals so dumb, and so few smart people criminals? How does having an education change that, theorizing that it does? In my psychology class, my teacher said that generally criminals have a lower IQ than the general public. Also, criminals rarely have a degree, if any college education. I'm talking about the lowly burglar who robs the 7-11 or holds up a small bank. The higher the degree, the lower the percentage of those degree holders commit crimes. So does a college education make people more moral, and if so, how? This applies not only to criminals, but people in general. Look at Glenn Beck, who I don't see as possessing high morals, who dropped out of two colleges that I know of, and Rachel Maddow, who I see as a very moral person, who became a Rhodes scholar when she was 21, and earned her doctorate. People with less education tend to be more racist, sexist, homophobic, religious, narrow-minded, bigoted in general, and (hrrmph) republican, than people with a higher education. Now, of course, I'm talking in general from what I have seen. I stuck religion in there, because, well, it's true. More people with a higher education, from what I've observed, don't believe in a god than people with a lower education. Or if they do believe in god, they realize that they have no hard evidence that one exists; that it's blind faith.

I thought of morals being taught in the home. So do all people with low morals come from bad homes, or the product of parents with low morals? For the most part, it's probably true, but I think there are many criminals that came from good homes. It also works vice-versa. There are lots of good people that come from less-than-desirable homes.

My mother fell asleep with the tv on earlier, and this religious show was on. This woman yelled out to a massive audience that she was almost 61 years old and she felt like she was 25, "and that is God's work," and the crowd roared! Yay!!! Do they really believe that crap? My grandparents believed in God, and they died from cancer. Was it because they didn't believe as hard as she does? Could it be that she takes care of herself? That she has good genes (which she would also consider the work of God)? That she is just plain lying, so that her supporters, especially ill ones, will send her money hoping that God will make them feel like 25? And you know, 25 wasn't especially great for me. But that must be because I'm a non-believer. I also didn't take very good care of myself. And there's the whole seizure thing.

Going back to education and morals, teachers/professors don't necessarily teach morals. Yet, education seems to impact them. Perhaps it's because more education can make people more open-minded. They meet people from different backgrounds and cultures whose views differ from theirs, and learn things out of their scope. It forces one to question their beliefs and analyze what they think - not just positions they always held, but also issues they didn't give much thought to before. It also happens (or should happen) in a non-threatening manner. If you tell someone their beliefs are wrong, then they'll dig their heels in deeper. If you can get them to truly question their beliefs, to explain themselves, then it makes the person more open-minded to alternatives. "Huh. Maybe that doesn't make as much sense as I thought, now that I think about it." Like duct-taping your face to use as a disguise.

Witchy Woman

  I just looked at a note to remind me of the conversation of two women I overheard talking. They were two white women in their 50's or 60's talking about Muslim women and their burkas. They felt that they shouldn't be allowed to wear their burka in the United States, because, "you just don't know who could be under there." Really, people? Really? Whatever happened to the land of the free? Not that everyone has ever been really free here - the reservations the Natives were segregated to and all the rights taken away, the slaves that were imported from Africa, internment camps for the Japanese, and now the sex slave industry. I just watched a new Law & Order: SVU episode about poor children sent to work on farms and being sold into slavery. As the immigration of illegal immigrants decreases, farmers need to find cheap work somewhere. But I digress. It was hard to keep my mouth shut as I listened to these ignorant women feeling it appropriate for them, the government, to intervene with religious rights that brings no harm to anyone else, but I highly doubt it would've mattered if I said anything or not. As if one of "those people" could be Osama bin Laden hiding under a blanket right in plain view. That brings up another point, this ideology of "us" vs. "them." I thought Obama exclaimed quite eloquently and passionately that there is no "us and them," there is only "us." It's only too obvious to state that as long as the "us and them" ideology persists, then we can't come together to banish the "them" part. Unfortunately, a "them" has always existed. "Us" are scared of the "them" because of real differences, and differences they perceive. Muslim women wear burkas. Christian women don't. That is a difference you can see, but they're both religious women. People have all different colors of skin, but the DNA is almost the same - we're all the same underneath. I think of "Imagine," the best song ever written (in my humble opinion): "Imagine there's no countries. It isn't hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too. Imagine all the people living life in peace."

Whine, whine. Bitch, bitch.

It's midnight and I don't feel much like sleeping or much like studying. Two things I need to do. All these thoughts keep racing through my head. I have conversations in my head. I tried reading this article and kept reading the first two lines over and over, until I gave up and just let my mind wander. Sometimes I think I have ADD. I try to refrain from writing in my blog until I feel I don't have anything more important or pressing to do, but when you're in school, that never happens. I'm already behind in my reading for sociology and women studies, and it's only the second week. Maybe I'm just not cut out for school. I told my teacher that if I can't get enough money from scholarships to live on my own, I will probably quit school and get a job. I really don't want to, but I can't live here anymore. Carmen drives me batty. Why doesn't she get anything done? Probably the same reasons why I don't get some things done. I make it a bigger deal than it is, I don't want to do it, so I resort to doing nothing but obsess about it. Or I get so busy with other things that need to be taken care of now, that I don't get to it in a more timely manner. But I actually am pretty good about getting stuff done. She never seems to get anything done. It took her 4 or 5 days to do the bills; something that shouldn't take more than half an hour. Then she ended up having to spend 4 times the amount of time doing them because she had to call all the places she was sending bills to to tell them their check would be late, spending lord knows how much time on hold with each call. And then there's the den. WTF? It's been a fucking disaster area with the same shit for over a year since I moved in, and god knows how long before that. And the cats shit in the corners that we can't reach because there's too much shit in the way. I realized the other day that I would be so fucked if she were to get hit by a train tomorrow. I know I've talked about this before with all the shit in the house, but then there's all the stuff that comes with death. I don't know if she has a living will, which I highly doubt she does. I'd think she'd tell me about it. She doesn't have a will period. I know that. Her paperwork is in such a mess (despite the countless hours she spends on it), that I wouldn't know where to begin to call credit cards and whatnot. I don't know what will happen to the house when she dies since it's on a reverse mortgage. I don't think the lender automatically takes it like they used to, but I'm not sure if I can stay in it (if I were still living here), what my dad would do, what I will have to do. Do I have to sell right away? Assuming I can still sell? And what will happen to the money from the sale? I know these are questions I need to ask my mother or the loan officer, but I never feel like I can ask her because she's either doing paperwork, running errands, or she's sick. There are always other things that have to be taken care of right now. Like her goddamn cats. Again, WTF? She knew for months they needed to be fixed at the end of January. It's now the beginning of April, and do you think they're fixed yet? She retaliated that she wasn't able to do anything for a few weeks because of her mother's death, but Gramma died 3 weeks after they should've been fixed! Pearl is finally starting to settle down after being in heat for over a week. Good god! Have you ever been around a cat in heat? It's torture for her and you. I would tell mom to make a to do list, but she'd lose it (the list, not her temper; well maybe her temper too). It's like living with a little child. She and dad started drinking a lot, but I noticed the past couple days that I don't think they've had anything, which makes me feel better. I know it's only two days, but at least it's not constant now. For a while it seemed like every time I saw my mother, she had a glass of wine in her hand. Then she really acts like a child. Whines, throws temper tantrums, pouts, slams doors. And my dad was drinking a lot. I just hope they don't get back into that. Why have children when I have parents?

Ranting and Raving

My day started off well enough. I went to physical therapy, which felt wonderful. Then I rushed home, changed, and my parents and I darted off to my neurology appointment at Valley Medical in Renton. We walked up to the information desk inside the main building, where we had to spell out neurology for the old gentleman there (well, at least part of it). He directed us to admissions where the lady told us it was in the building on the other side of the parking lot, where we just came from (the parking lot, not the building). The receptionist told us to arrive at 12:30 to give enough time to fill out paperwork for a 1:00 appointment. Yesterday a different receptionist told me I didn't need to be there until 12:45. We arrive at 12:44, and they're out to lunch until 12:45. I step into the bathroom to finish my face, and Carmen comes in, "Come on. They're waiting for you." I think, "Are you kidding me? They told me to arrive 15 minutes before they got back from lunch, and now they want to be bitchy about time???" (the office was also locked so we had to stand in the hall) I met Dr. Vossler, supposedly the best neurologist in Washington. He was arrogant and a jerk. I've been to three neurologists, who all told me nothing. The tests didn't tell them anything, so there's nothing to say or any advice, except to take this medication. Vossler pretty much blew me off right from the start. He told me he didn't understand why I was coming to him and what I expected him to do. Maybe I want some fucking answers! Some type of closure! I've been dealing with this for three years and these "doctors" won't tell me anything. I understand that if nothing shows on the test, then nothing shows, but it doesn't fucking mean that there's nothing there. Maybe I should be grateful that I got to live longer than my aunt, who died when she was 20 from a seizure. But they've proved that I don't have epilepsy like she did. But they don't want to really entertain the possibility that it just might be from the accident that I was in that predated the first seizure by three months. I'm just frustrated. I'm not angry or mad, just frustrated, tired, and bitchy. I had to fight back tears before I went into my women's studies class today. Dr. Mower automatically knew that something was going on. Funny how women can do that. What is it called? Intuition? Shit. Now I am crying. I'm just so tired of feeling so old and sick and helpless. I'm doing what I can. I've done what I can. Ok. I'm better now. I hate being this emotional. The alcohol probably didn't help. My parents wanted me to join them at a nearby casino where they have a good happy hour. We all drank too much. Carmen couldn't even stand the last time I saw her. I eventually just walked home; most of the way in my fishnet stockinged feet. It's been a long time since I wore 3 inch heels. I still have more rantings and ravings about today, but this is enough negativity for now. This blog has gone on long enough and I need to try to get some sleep. I'll read a bit more about the French Revolution in my historical novel.

"A pessimist sees only the dark side of the clouds, and mopes; a philosopher sees both sides, and shrugs; an optimist doesn't see the clouds at all - he's walking on them." ~Leonard Louis Levinson