I'm reading a pretty standard crime novel, but it still provided me with todays fantastic quote and a word that I will mock others with:
"God forbid we should ever achieve some kind of prelapsarian
utopia on earth because then you would have to live your life
instead of just complaining about it."
this is why I read, and why I read voraciously.
if you want to know me, go read Neal Stephenson, Christopher Moore, and every Discworld book by Terry Pratchett. hell, even if you don't want to know me, go and read their stuff. or pick up Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts. or Larry Gonick's Cartoon History of the World.
life is too short for bad books and bad beer. in my world reading books equal tax breaks.
27 October 2007
Friday Night Lights
here we go, with rant #1.
when do we officially acknowledge that law and order, i.e. the government and criminal courts, are not working? is it the third time a child molester is caught? or the second time a crack dealer is arrested? or the first time someone is accused of stealing? what is the point where common sense steps up to say, "Uh, no more"?
I live in the ghetto. most people would say it's only partially a ghetto, but we have crack dealers, hookers, gunshots, and homeless people. that's either the ghetto or a real sign that it's time to leave America. I am the first to admit that I am not involved in my neighborhood. I don't want to be part of this. I don't even want to believe that it exists, although you'll not catch me living in denial. I don't walk through the neighborhood after dark, I can barely go get something out of my car after 8pm without turning on all the lights in the house and carrying my cell phone in my hand with 9-1 dialed. I don't live in fear, but I do live with several weapons.
personally, I'm tired of having violent fantasies that involve chasing someone down the street after they've committed some atrocity in my home or to my family. I don't believe that the law will help me, or that justice exists. okay, so I'm a vengeful person. if you step on my foot and don't at least say excuse me I will follow you around the grocery store until I can ram you with my cart and get away with it. not that I've ever done that. well, more than twice.
anyway, I don't want to avoid driving down the street because crack dealers are standing in the middle of it. I want to run them down instead of lowering my head and waiting for them to saunter their big ass saggy pants out of the way. I don't want to watch the same girl walk up and down the block with various men while I'm playing with my kid in the yard. I could go in the backyard, but the pit bulls next door tend to attack the fence relentlessly, and I get tired of the barking. I don't want to listen to gunshots at 10pm and wonder if it's the next block over or down. and then spend 15 minutes wondering if the cops will show up, or if I've called so often that they ignore my messages. or that they are overwhelmed and understaffed and unable to attend to calls that are less specific than "FIRE" or "He's bleeding all over the sofa!" I'm listening to some woman right now yelling, "Shut the fuck up! What do you know? Shut the fuck up! I don't need you or your shit. Don't, don't you come near me . . ." I peek out the blinds, but they've moved on.
it sucks. no one should live like this. no one should be forced, by nature or nurture, to live without adequate shelter, food, water, or education. I want to make it better, but holding hands with the neighborhood watch isn't enough. the ghetto needs jobs, vocational training, social engineering, and some fucking bleach to wash out the blood stains. and no, I'm not advocating "whitening" the neighborhood, just adding some elements of civilization.
but that's another blog . . .
so, the ghetto. what can I do? I could join the neighborhood association, go to the church pancake breakfasts, argue with city planners, but what I really want to do is get a baseball bat and clean out the crack corner. I want to introduce jobs that offer enough money to keep the dealers from selling, that give some honor to the hookers (or at least safety), and that provides positive role-models for the kids. there's a serious lack of smart people with bling. you can like rap all you want, but money, ho's, diamonds, and flashy cars seem to be all that it's about. accounting or the civil service don't offer that excitement, danger, or tabloid fodder. it's a shame really. can't you just see Alan Greenspan with a diamond grill? or Sandra Day O'Connor speeding down the interstate with buff boys flexing and preening?
now, I said it before, I have all the answers. they're hard solutions. and it does come down to, "you want this to be a good neighborhood? then go make it one". there's no pussy-footing around. do it, or suck it up, nancy. I'm a nancy. I love my man and my kid, and I don't want to lose them. so I hide in my house, with all the lights on, hoping that someone else will do something. anything. because if one person takes it personally, takes it to the level of real interaction, and gets away with it? I'm right behind you. probably with the machete (thanks Sparky!). the courts don't work. the law isn't enough. I'm open to the arguments, but until I see a neighborhood that's actually been turned around by people singing and buying each other a soda I only foresee violence.
if there were an easier way, I can only think that it would have been done. if kindness, forgiveness, second chances and mothering could turn things around, I don't think I'd be living in the ghetto. sometimes good people fail, and sometimes people are just bad. I'm of the rip-the-bandaid-off-quick mindset. so, in the same vein, I'm of the kill-em-before-they-do-more-damage mindset.
is it fair? no, but it's reality. is it nice? hell no. but we all make decisions, and if your decision is to make my neighborhood dangerous . . . well, that's a wound I'm willing to expose to the air. in words, at least. I'll get back to you when I've actually put words to action. they've got great computer stations at the prison here. I recognize my hypocrisy. I want to change the ghetto. but mostly, I want OUT of the ghetto. and I'm not ashamed to take donations.
when do we officially acknowledge that law and order, i.e. the government and criminal courts, are not working? is it the third time a child molester is caught? or the second time a crack dealer is arrested? or the first time someone is accused of stealing? what is the point where common sense steps up to say, "Uh, no more"?
I live in the ghetto. most people would say it's only partially a ghetto, but we have crack dealers, hookers, gunshots, and homeless people. that's either the ghetto or a real sign that it's time to leave America. I am the first to admit that I am not involved in my neighborhood. I don't want to be part of this. I don't even want to believe that it exists, although you'll not catch me living in denial. I don't walk through the neighborhood after dark, I can barely go get something out of my car after 8pm without turning on all the lights in the house and carrying my cell phone in my hand with 9-1 dialed. I don't live in fear, but I do live with several weapons.
personally, I'm tired of having violent fantasies that involve chasing someone down the street after they've committed some atrocity in my home or to my family. I don't believe that the law will help me, or that justice exists. okay, so I'm a vengeful person. if you step on my foot and don't at least say excuse me I will follow you around the grocery store until I can ram you with my cart and get away with it. not that I've ever done that. well, more than twice.
anyway, I don't want to avoid driving down the street because crack dealers are standing in the middle of it. I want to run them down instead of lowering my head and waiting for them to saunter their big ass saggy pants out of the way. I don't want to watch the same girl walk up and down the block with various men while I'm playing with my kid in the yard. I could go in the backyard, but the pit bulls next door tend to attack the fence relentlessly, and I get tired of the barking. I don't want to listen to gunshots at 10pm and wonder if it's the next block over or down. and then spend 15 minutes wondering if the cops will show up, or if I've called so often that they ignore my messages. or that they are overwhelmed and understaffed and unable to attend to calls that are less specific than "FIRE" or "He's bleeding all over the sofa!" I'm listening to some woman right now yelling, "Shut the fuck up! What do you know? Shut the fuck up! I don't need you or your shit. Don't, don't you come near me . . ." I peek out the blinds, but they've moved on.
it sucks. no one should live like this. no one should be forced, by nature or nurture, to live without adequate shelter, food, water, or education. I want to make it better, but holding hands with the neighborhood watch isn't enough. the ghetto needs jobs, vocational training, social engineering, and some fucking bleach to wash out the blood stains. and no, I'm not advocating "whitening" the neighborhood, just adding some elements of civilization.
but that's another blog . . .
so, the ghetto. what can I do? I could join the neighborhood association, go to the church pancake breakfasts, argue with city planners, but what I really want to do is get a baseball bat and clean out the crack corner. I want to introduce jobs that offer enough money to keep the dealers from selling, that give some honor to the hookers (or at least safety), and that provides positive role-models for the kids. there's a serious lack of smart people with bling. you can like rap all you want, but money, ho's, diamonds, and flashy cars seem to be all that it's about. accounting or the civil service don't offer that excitement, danger, or tabloid fodder. it's a shame really. can't you just see Alan Greenspan with a diamond grill? or Sandra Day O'Connor speeding down the interstate with buff boys flexing and preening?
now, I said it before, I have all the answers. they're hard solutions. and it does come down to, "you want this to be a good neighborhood? then go make it one". there's no pussy-footing around. do it, or suck it up, nancy. I'm a nancy. I love my man and my kid, and I don't want to lose them. so I hide in my house, with all the lights on, hoping that someone else will do something. anything. because if one person takes it personally, takes it to the level of real interaction, and gets away with it? I'm right behind you. probably with the machete (thanks Sparky!). the courts don't work. the law isn't enough. I'm open to the arguments, but until I see a neighborhood that's actually been turned around by people singing and buying each other a soda I only foresee violence.
if there were an easier way, I can only think that it would have been done. if kindness, forgiveness, second chances and mothering could turn things around, I don't think I'd be living in the ghetto. sometimes good people fail, and sometimes people are just bad. I'm of the rip-the-bandaid-off-quick mindset. so, in the same vein, I'm of the kill-em-before-they-do-more-damage mindset.
is it fair? no, but it's reality. is it nice? hell no. but we all make decisions, and if your decision is to make my neighborhood dangerous . . . well, that's a wound I'm willing to expose to the air. in words, at least. I'll get back to you when I've actually put words to action. they've got great computer stations at the prison here. I recognize my hypocrisy. I want to change the ghetto. but mostly, I want OUT of the ghetto. and I'm not ashamed to take donations.
25 October 2007
What's the Story, Morning Glory?
I suppose this should be an introduction. of sorts.
this is my post, so what? why does anyone do this blog thing? it's a public diary, a place where anyone can say what they want. and it's fairly anonymous, which is fantastic. of course, if you know me then it's less anonymous, but we can't have everything, can we?
not that I tend to use the royal "we" very much. maybe I'll start. it's better than using the third person, which, personally, I find incredibly annoying. plus, I can use as many commas as I want and old English-teachers-turned-friends can't mark me off for it. bwa ha ha.
I'm here because I have so many things I want to talk about and a serious lack of time to spend annoying my friends with one-sided debates and drunken aggression. also because I'm far too lazy to put something together professionally and submit it to a magazine or newspaper. the gods know that I'd love to see my words in print, blasting the foolish and haranguing the narrow-minded. and regardless, or irregardless as I prefer, of what my beloved Ann says, there isn't a place for me in literature. I'm too scattered to really pull my stories together anyway.
as you might have noticed.
so, in brief, yes, I'm female, yes, I'm over 30, yes, I'm a frustrated artist, yes, I'm a new mother (and significant other), and, yes, I do love run-on sentences and commas. I'm also fairly abrasive, rude, stubborn, offensive, and possibly quite quite mad.
I have many things I want to do in this life, many accomplishments and goals that float through my brain and desires, but the ultimate goal is to rule the world. as I keep telling people, I have all the answers. they may not like them, but I have them. believe me, I tell them all the time what they should do. I can solve everything but humanity, and then I tend to follow the idea of survival of the fittest, and/or survival of those I like. when I rule the world, and I'm not that greedy, I don't want the universe or anything, just this planet, it will be a nicer, cleaner, happier place. I'm a parent now, and the American culture dictates that I turn more conservative. but I'm also poor, undereducated, bitter and sarcastic. so I can straddle the fence with the best of the Repulicrats and Democans (thank you Ani).
so voila. this is what you get for the first blog. a nothing, going nowhere and achieving no clarity or definition. mostly I just wanted to say, yeah, I gave this blog space an obscene name because it doesn't scare me. I don't intend to mince my words because of what readers might think. I hope to use this space for honest essays on the world and it's problems, on my life and it's problems, and on stupidity and the need to slap people every moment. I don't want to have to tell you again, but I have all the answers. try me . . .
this is my post, so what? why does anyone do this blog thing? it's a public diary, a place where anyone can say what they want. and it's fairly anonymous, which is fantastic. of course, if you know me then it's less anonymous, but we can't have everything, can we?
not that I tend to use the royal "we" very much. maybe I'll start. it's better than using the third person, which, personally, I find incredibly annoying. plus, I can use as many commas as I want and old English-teachers-turned-friends can't mark me off for it. bwa ha ha.
I'm here because I have so many things I want to talk about and a serious lack of time to spend annoying my friends with one-sided debates and drunken aggression. also because I'm far too lazy to put something together professionally and submit it to a magazine or newspaper. the gods know that I'd love to see my words in print, blasting the foolish and haranguing the narrow-minded. and regardless, or irregardless as I prefer, of what my beloved Ann says, there isn't a place for me in literature. I'm too scattered to really pull my stories together anyway.
as you might have noticed.
so, in brief, yes, I'm female, yes, I'm over 30, yes, I'm a frustrated artist, yes, I'm a new mother (and significant other), and, yes, I do love run-on sentences and commas. I'm also fairly abrasive, rude, stubborn, offensive, and possibly quite quite mad.
I have many things I want to do in this life, many accomplishments and goals that float through my brain and desires, but the ultimate goal is to rule the world. as I keep telling people, I have all the answers. they may not like them, but I have them. believe me, I tell them all the time what they should do. I can solve everything but humanity, and then I tend to follow the idea of survival of the fittest, and/or survival of those I like. when I rule the world, and I'm not that greedy, I don't want the universe or anything, just this planet, it will be a nicer, cleaner, happier place. I'm a parent now, and the American culture dictates that I turn more conservative. but I'm also poor, undereducated, bitter and sarcastic. so I can straddle the fence with the best of the Repulicrats and Democans (thank you Ani).
so voila. this is what you get for the first blog. a nothing, going nowhere and achieving no clarity or definition. mostly I just wanted to say, yeah, I gave this blog space an obscene name because it doesn't scare me. I don't intend to mince my words because of what readers might think. I hope to use this space for honest essays on the world and it's problems, on my life and it's problems, and on stupidity and the need to slap people every moment. I don't want to have to tell you again, but I have all the answers. try me . . .
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