… Understand March 3, 2007
“It’s pathetic how we can’t live with the things we can’t understand. How we need everything labeled and explained and deconstructed.”
Oh, and I want to go here.
Life is a lot different than it was when I last sat down and seriously tried to write. That angst and anger… and frustration with myself and life in general just isn’t the same. In fact, I’m not so angry anymore. Not to say that I don’t still have issues and things that dig at me but I’m actually pretty happy. I’ve grown up a lot.
Sure, I’m still broke but there could be worse things in life.
So… here’s to a new chapter in life. A brighter story. For now, the outlook is fair and I know that it could always be worse.
“It’s pathetic how we can’t live with the things we can’t understand. How we need everything labeled and explained and deconstructed.”
Oh, and I want to go here.
Life does not come with a FAQ guide. No wiki. No how-to.
I shot myself - literally. Not in the foot, but in the heart. It wasn’t until I had lost the things I loved, that I even realized they were ever really there in the first place.
A how-to guide back then would have been nice. Or for someone to stop me and shake me…
But when you’re a good liar… when you’re a great liar… who is there to catch you other than yourself? I was too selfish to exercise proper judgement.
Selfish.
I didn’t think about anyone but myself.
Since then I’ve tried to treat the people I care for with what I lacked back then… but again - if someone had told me back then…
I have the hardest time coming to terms with my actions. I can’t seem to ever figure out how to really let that go.
I have yet to ever really move on.
This has stopped, and will stop me in the future, from having any type of healthy relationship. Until I really let go, I can’t be with someone else.
The standards I’ve set are probably impossible. I refuse to lower the bar… I had it all and I pissed it away.
I figure that all the shitty things that have happened in the last 3 years are the result of my actions. This is my karma. I’m ok with it.
This road led him to where he is today… and the knowledge that he’s happy now… I suppose it was all worth it.
Turning 25 was great because my car insurance dropped by freaking half!
Progressive quoted me at 900$+ for SIX MONTHS.
I got a quote from Erie insurance for 866$ for A YEAR.
Can you believe that?
I’ve been waiting for this since… I was 19 and switched from my parents insurance to my own.
Seriously - I paid 168$ a month with Progressive.
That’s over 2000$ a year. I will now be paying 866$ a year! That’s insane!
I sent off the paperwork today. The best part is - it’s 9 payments for the entire year. The last 3 months I don’t have to pay anything - it’s already paid for the year at that point.
When I was 19 - Progressive was the cheapest I could find. I shopped a ton of different companies and they were the lowest offer available. But even with the minimum coverage and 1000$ deductible to keep my monthly payments low - it was 250$ a month when I was first paying.
This new plan has much higher levels of coverage and lower deductibles - and it has renters insurance as well - and it’s still 1000$ less a year!
I know - so boring - but this was pretty much the highlight of my day. This could possibly be the highlight of my year - seeing as how it hasn’t been that fantastic.
Drunk. Pino Noir.
You’d be so proud that I was drinking wine. Not just wine… but I also had some dessert wine that I won’t attempt to pronounce. It tasted like welches white grape juice.
Girls night out.
Intoxicated mama.
I miss you.
You’ll never be as honest as when you’re fucked up on something.
Wine. Estascy. Cocaine. You know. Honest.
So I miss you. I don’t miss not being loved. I don’t miss not being treated like a princess. I don’t miss your small dick. But I miss something about you.
Like I said, honesty. It’s the best policy.
I’m hot now. I’m fucking pretty now. I can look myself in the mirror and not be worried that I’m not good enough. I can fuck with the lights on.
Because I am. You chose some fucking cunt over me. But hey. You’re happy and I can’t fault that. Really. You’ve got something that I don’t - happiness.
And a bitch that probably rides nice dick. But, hey. Whatever works for you.
I bet you think this song is about you…. don’t you…. don’t you….
I’m stuck here waiting for a passing feeling….
Who wants a dermal punch anyway? Not me. This is what wikipedia says about dermal punches. (If you say it fast enough it almost sounds like a donkey punch - don’t be confused.)
I’m supposed to make an appointment to get this bump on my arm ‘punched’ off but not so much. Not at all.
Sushi in the city tomorrow night. I’m very excited. I wish I lived closer to the city - or.. in the city. I miss late night trips to Paper Moon. And dinners at Red Fish…. mmmmmm.
This is a long article but it is worth the read. I wish that I could write something this intelligent.
Bloggermann This hole in the ground - Bloggermann - MSNBC.com
This hole in the ground - Keith Olbermann.
Half a lifetime ago, I worked in this now-empty space. And for 40 days after the attacks, I worked here again, trying to make sense of what happened, and was yet to happen, as a reporter.
All the time, I knew that the very air I breathed contained the remains of thousands of people, including four of my friends, two in the planes and — as I discovered from those “missing posters” seared still into my soul — two more in the Towers.
And I knew too, that this was the pyre for hundreds of New York policemen and firemen, of whom my family can claim half a dozen or more, as our ancestors.
I belabor this to emphasize that, for me this was, and is, and always shall be, personal.
And anyone who claims that I and others like me are “soft,”or have “forgotten” the lessons of what happened here is at best a grasping, opportunistic, dilettante and at worst, an idiot whether he is a commentator, or a Vice President, or a President.
However, of all the things those of us who were here five years ago could have forecast — of all the nightmares that unfolded before our eyes, and the others that unfolded only in our minds — none of us could have predicted this.
Five years later this space is still empty.
Five years later there is no memorial to the dead.
Five years later there is no building rising to show with proud defiance that we would not have our America wrung from us, by cowards and criminals.
Five years later this country’s wound is still open.
Five years later this country’s mass grave is still unmarked.
Five years later this is still just a background for a photo-op.
It is beyond shameful.
At the dedication of the Gettysburg Memorial — barely four months after the last soldier staggered from another Pennsylvania field — Mr. Lincoln said, “we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract.”
Lincoln used those words to immortalize their sacrifice.
Today our leaders could use those same words to rationalize their reprehensible inaction. “We cannot dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground.” So we won’t.
Instead they bicker and buck pass. They thwart private efforts, and jostle to claim credit for initiatives that go nowhere. They spend the money on irrelevant wars, and elaborate self-congratulations, and buying off columnists to write how good a job they’re doing instead of doing any job at all.
Five years later, Mr. Bush, we are still fighting the terrorists on these streets. And look carefully, sir, on these 16 empty acres. The terrorists are clearly, still winning.
And, in a crime against every victim here and every patriotic sentiment you mouthed but did not enact, you have done nothing about it.
And there is something worse still than this vast gaping hole in this city, and in the fabric of our nation. There is its symbolism of the promise unfulfilled, the urgent oath, reduced to lazy execution.
The only positive on 9/11 and the days and weeks that so slowly and painfully followed it was the unanimous humanity, here, and throughout the country. The government, the President in particular, was given every possible measure of support.
Those who did not belong to his party — tabled that.
Those who doubted the mechanics of his election — ignored that.
Those who wondered of his qualifications — forgot that.
History teaches us that nearly unanimous support of a government cannot be taken away from that government by its critics. It can only be squandered by those who use it not to heal a nation’s wounds, but to take political advantage.
Terrorists did not come and steal our newly-regained sense of being American first, and political, fiftieth. Nor did the Democrats. Nor did the media. Nor did the people.
The President — and those around him — did that.
They promised bi-partisanship, and then showed that to them, “bi-partisanship” meant that their party would rule and the rest would have to follow, or be branded, with ever-escalating hysteria, as morally or intellectually confused, as appeasers, as those who, in the Vice President’s words yesterday, “validate the strategy of the terrorists.”
They promised protection, and then showed that to them “protection” meant going to war against a despot whose hand they had once shaken, a despot who we now learn from our own Senate Intelligence Committee, hated al-Qaida as much as we did.
The polite phrase for how so many of us were duped into supporting a war, on the false premise that it had ’something to do’ with 9/11 is “lying by implication.”
The impolite phrase is “impeachable offense.”
Not once in now five years has this President ever offered to assume responsibility for the failures that led to this empty space, and to this, the current, curdled, version of our beloved country.
Still, there is a last snapping flame from a final candle of respect and fairness: even his most virulent critics have never suggested he alone bears the full brunt of the blame for 9/11.
Half the time, in fact, this President has been so gently treated, that he has seemed not even to be the man most responsible for anything in his own administration.
Yet what is happening this very night?
A mini-series, created, influenced — possibly financed by — the most radical and cold of domestic political Machiavellis, continues to be televised into our homes.
The documented truths of the last fifteen years are replaced by bald-faced lies; the talking points of the current regime parroted; the whole sorry story blurred, by spin, to make the party out of office seem vacillating and impotent, and the party in office, seem like the only option.
How dare you, Mr. President, after taking cynical advantage of the unanimity and love, and transmuting it into fraudulent war and needless death, after monstrously transforming it into fear and suspicion and turning that fear into the campaign slogan of three elections? How dare you — or those around you — ever “spin” 9/11?
Just as the terrorists have succeeded — are still succeeding — as long as there is no memorial and no construction here at Ground Zero.
So, too, have they succeeded, and are still succeeding as long as this government uses 9/11 as a wedge to pit Americans against Americans.
This is an odd point to cite a television program, especially one from March of 1960. But as Disney’s continuing sell-out of the truth (and this country) suggests, even television programs can be powerful things.
And long ago, a series called “The Twilight Zone” broadcast a riveting episode entitled “The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street.”
In brief: a meteor sparks rumors of an invasion by extra-terrestrials disguised as humans. The electricity goes out. A neighbor pleads for calm. Suddenly his car — and only his car — starts. Someone suggests he must be the alien. Then another man’s lights go on. As charges and suspicion and panic overtake the street, guns are inevitably produced. An “alien” is shot — but he turns out to be just another neighbor, returning from going for help. The camera pulls back to a near-by hill, where two extra-terrestrials are seen manipulating a small device that can jam electricity. The veteran tells his novice that there’s no need to actually attack, that you just turn off a few of the human machines and then, “they pick the most dangerous enemy they can find, and it’s themselves.”
And then, in perhaps his finest piece of writing, Rod Serling sums it up with words of remarkable prescience, given where we find ourselves tonight: “The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices, to be found only in the minds of men.
“For the record, prejudices can kill and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all its own — for the children, and the children yet unborn.”
When those who dissent are told time and time again — as we will be, if not tonight by the President, then tomorrow by his portable public chorus — that he is preserving our freedom, but that if we use any of it, we are somehow un-American…When we are scolded, that if we merely question, we have “forgotten the lessons of 9/11″… look into this empty space behind me and the bi-partisanship upon which this administration also did not build, and tell me:
Who has left this hole in the ground?
We have not forgotten, Mr. President.
You have.
May this country forgive you.
So I’d like you to check out what our President had to say concerning the war on Iraq…
“One of the hardest parts of my job is to connect Iraq to the war on terror.”
See the article here on CBSnews.com
Of course it is. OF course it is. You would never launch an attack on Saudi Arabia - that is where most of the 9/11 hijackers were from. Nope.
Douche.
On a brighter note, I’d like to introduce you to my furture ex wife. Ever since Angelina started humping Brad I’ve been on the lookout.
I finally decided on Shannyn Sossamon.
“And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it’s already happened.”
- Douglas Coupland, Life After God