screw you guys, i'm going home.
Listen.
I saw Fahrenheit 9/11 today.
Now I don't think it actually revealed anything Earth-shattering. It didn't tell me anything I didn't already know or suspect, and I pretty much already had the same views before I went in. Naturally, though, it started me thinking.
The evidence against G. Dubya and the current administration isn't what impacts me, it was the images and emotions of those directly affected by 9/11 and by the Iraq Wars. These are images that you and I have seen time and again, but they will never fail to affect me and more than likely you in the same way each and every time. How can I go on living and enjoying my lifestyle knowing these things are happening to others in this world?
Now I know what you're thinking. You're skeptical and saying, "Come on, you'll have forgotten all this within a week." And you're right. How many times have we been faced with these horrors on our television sets or even across the street, and how many of us have continued on our very same lives, with no change in lifestyle, even that evening? I saw people walking out of that theater near bawling, and I was ready to bawl myself, and yet I am almost certain every one of us will go about our caffeine-enhanced routines tomorrow morning without a care in the world beyond our usual Monday morning concerns.
And that bothers me. Rather, it doesn't bother me, and that's what bothers me.
You see, that's what I want, to go about my normal caffeine-enhanced routine and relatively happy life tomorrow. The last thing I want to do is become some Michael Moore inspired raging globally-aware politically-aware anti-war activist. God, no.
I'm serious, dammit. Let me give you some back story.
As most of you know, I was once a missionary in Haiti and Brazil, teaching American missionary children, Haitian adults, and at times even helping care for sick Haitians. I was a Christian; no, I was a friggin' fundamentalist Christian, one whose heart bled all over the place staining and infecting every ground I trampled. I went out of my way, "out of my comfort zone" (how I hate that cliche) and beyond my means to vainly try to Do the Right Thing and Make This World a Better Place. Of course, far as I can tell, that hasn't happened. In fact, on more than one occasion, and maybe once or twice with my help, things have ended up either worse, or in the case that broke the camel's back, fallen apart altogether. All this caring and empathy was killing me. Somewhere along the way, I gave up. I said screw it, and high-tailed it back to the good ol' US with the conscious decision to say to heck with Everyone Else and pursue the albeit selfish American dream of life, liberty, and the pursuit of money. No, I didn't type that in error. I was taking the Declaration of Independence one step further, or should I say one step backward, and using Thomas Jefferson's original draft. Whoever decided to edit that was a fool! (I say in jest of course.) In the years since then I believe I have progressively closed in on this dream. I have asserted and continue to assert that I am only in this for myself and no longer care about anyone else, except for those few like my dog and my family. In short, screw you guys, I'm going home.
Now I admit (or plea?) I still consider myself a Christian, albeit a very bad one. I'll also admit I haven't been to church in about seven months.
So do I want to forget this movie? Heck yeah. Bowling for Columbine? Never want to see it again. Much like any serial killer movie I see (and I friggin' hate that genre), I want to get it out of my head just as soon as possible. Even before the movie was over I was consciously thinking to myself how easily I can push all this out of my head and oh, please, please do.
No, I want to go ahead with my relatively easy life. I want to continue celebrating my birthdays by eating an excessively huge slab of prime rib and drinking Guinness profusely with my dad. I want to go on living it up and holding parties at the local bars with three bands. I just don't have time for social activism and awareness. I want to go to parties every weekend and laugh and joke and drink and flirt with really cute girls wearing alien antennae and sitting practically on top of me.
In case you're too scared to click that link, here it is:
I put that here just for you, uh, oh crap I forgot your name already. Remind me next week at my party. After you slap me for posting this picture, of course.
Of course, I didn't immediately push it out of my head and forget it, did I? No, I mulled over it all the way home, and when I got home I rushed to my computer and began composing this now lengthy journal entry. In fact, I think the only reason I am writing this is so I have something to remind me later. Yet, even this journal entry will end with the routine "Listening to" and "In my sink," designed to use pop culture references and not-so-funny meme satire to instantly distract your mind on the off chance any important or socially relevant ideas happened to find their way into my journal. Ready? Here they are.
Listening to: the White Stripes, the Creatures
In my sink: 2 bowls, 2 spoons, 2 cups, a glass, a fork, a knife, a plate, a pot, a cover, a colander, the spaghetti sauce bottle.
I saw Fahrenheit 9/11 today.
Now I don't think it actually revealed anything Earth-shattering. It didn't tell me anything I didn't already know or suspect, and I pretty much already had the same views before I went in. Naturally, though, it started me thinking.
The evidence against G. Dubya and the current administration isn't what impacts me, it was the images and emotions of those directly affected by 9/11 and by the Iraq Wars. These are images that you and I have seen time and again, but they will never fail to affect me and more than likely you in the same way each and every time. How can I go on living and enjoying my lifestyle knowing these things are happening to others in this world?
Now I know what you're thinking. You're skeptical and saying, "Come on, you'll have forgotten all this within a week." And you're right. How many times have we been faced with these horrors on our television sets or even across the street, and how many of us have continued on our very same lives, with no change in lifestyle, even that evening? I saw people walking out of that theater near bawling, and I was ready to bawl myself, and yet I am almost certain every one of us will go about our caffeine-enhanced routines tomorrow morning without a care in the world beyond our usual Monday morning concerns.
And that bothers me. Rather, it doesn't bother me, and that's what bothers me.
You see, that's what I want, to go about my normal caffeine-enhanced routine and relatively happy life tomorrow. The last thing I want to do is become some Michael Moore inspired raging globally-aware politically-aware anti-war activist. God, no.
I'm serious, dammit. Let me give you some back story.
As most of you know, I was once a missionary in Haiti and Brazil, teaching American missionary children, Haitian adults, and at times even helping care for sick Haitians. I was a Christian; no, I was a friggin' fundamentalist Christian, one whose heart bled all over the place staining and infecting every ground I trampled. I went out of my way, "out of my comfort zone" (how I hate that cliche) and beyond my means to vainly try to Do the Right Thing and Make This World a Better Place. Of course, far as I can tell, that hasn't happened. In fact, on more than one occasion, and maybe once or twice with my help, things have ended up either worse, or in the case that broke the camel's back, fallen apart altogether. All this caring and empathy was killing me. Somewhere along the way, I gave up. I said screw it, and high-tailed it back to the good ol' US with the conscious decision to say to heck with Everyone Else and pursue the albeit selfish American dream of life, liberty, and the pursuit of money. No, I didn't type that in error. I was taking the Declaration of Independence one step further, or should I say one step backward, and using Thomas Jefferson's original draft. Whoever decided to edit that was a fool! (I say in jest of course.) In the years since then I believe I have progressively closed in on this dream. I have asserted and continue to assert that I am only in this for myself and no longer care about anyone else, except for those few like my dog and my family. In short, screw you guys, I'm going home.
Now I admit (or plea?) I still consider myself a Christian, albeit a very bad one. I'll also admit I haven't been to church in about seven months.
So do I want to forget this movie? Heck yeah. Bowling for Columbine? Never want to see it again. Much like any serial killer movie I see (and I friggin' hate that genre), I want to get it out of my head just as soon as possible. Even before the movie was over I was consciously thinking to myself how easily I can push all this out of my head and oh, please, please do.
No, I want to go ahead with my relatively easy life. I want to continue celebrating my birthdays by eating an excessively huge slab of prime rib and drinking Guinness profusely with my dad. I want to go on living it up and holding parties at the local bars with three bands. I just don't have time for social activism and awareness. I want to go to parties every weekend and laugh and joke and drink and flirt with really cute girls wearing alien antennae and sitting practically on top of me.
In case you're too scared to click that link, here it is:
I put that here just for you, uh, oh crap I forgot your name already. Remind me next week at my party. After you slap me for posting this picture, of course.
Of course, I didn't immediately push it out of my head and forget it, did I? No, I mulled over it all the way home, and when I got home I rushed to my computer and began composing this now lengthy journal entry. In fact, I think the only reason I am writing this is so I have something to remind me later. Yet, even this journal entry will end with the routine "Listening to" and "In my sink," designed to use pop culture references and not-so-funny meme satire to instantly distract your mind on the off chance any important or socially relevant ideas happened to find their way into my journal. Ready? Here they are.
Listening to: the White Stripes, the Creatures
In my sink: 2 bowls, 2 spoons, 2 cups, a glass, a fork, a knife, a plate, a pot, a cover, a colander, the spaghetti sauce bottle.
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