It seems like most people have a pretty firm stance on how they feel about this war. From television, radio, e-mail, magazines, newspapers and conversations, my head has become filled with words like peace, fight, freedom, blood, die, hate, stop.
Here is what I wish. I wish that the world was a peaceful place. I wish that there was respect and understanding and empathy and reverance in everyone. I wish I felt safe. I wish I could think of the future and feel hope rather than fear. As trite as it may seem, I just wish we could all get along.
And in my head there are more words.
“If wishes were horses then beggers would ride.”
Today I tried to avoid hearing or seeing anything about the war. But, as you likely know, that's impossible. It's everywhere.
I keep catching news updates on the television. I'm annoyed by snazzy graphics and slogans flashing war updates across my screen. In the commercial break after one such update I find myself thinking, "Something big must have happened because they are breaking in early for the....ehhhh....car commercial? Nevermind."
Only I don't "nevermind". My brain has another idea. Rant.
"Yeah. I like my war news packaged with eye-catching graphics, ominous music (with drums, of course), and a good slogan. What the hell was that "shock and awe" crap? Can't they come up with anything catchier? And why hasn't anyone written a jingle?"
When we leave the house, we drive past huge billboards protesting the war and through small towns flying banners saying, "SUPPORT OUR TROOPS". We hear the names of the soldiers who have died so far and I think of their families and how they must feel.
On the radio, we keep hearing news about anti-war protestors. This sets me off on another rant. A sample?
I don't understand when people protest violence with violence. If you're a pacifist, be one. That means not stashing molotov cocktails behind trees on city streets, not throwing bottles at people and into the roads, not vandalizing small businesses who are already hurting because they have to close early due to your ridiculous nonsense. Don't like the war? Speak up. But try to say something more intelligent than "Shame" or "No blood for oil". I know it can be done. I hear people doing it every day. Stop using this as an excuse to act out. You make it difficult for those who truly believe in the peace movement and you make it easy for those who would disparage it.
*Steps down off of soapbox*
I keep hearing that song by The Doors in my head, "Strange days have found us. Strange days have tracked us down. They're going to destroy our casual joys..."
Only, they don't. Mixed in with all my fears about this war and the potential impacts and all my sadness about the state of the world, and all my annoyance and frustration there are glimmers of happiness.
Driving with my husband, I'm laughing and smiling. I love love love love love him. The poppies and daffodils are in bloom. We roll the windows down and touch spring. I come home and practice my fiddle. I'm overjoyed to be able to play "Merrily We Roll Along" and "Go Tell Aunt Rhodie". I lie on the floor with my cats, nose to nose, and listen to them purr.
In fact, it seems the casual joys are the only ones that matter right now.
I'm driving home from work tonight, listening to the news on the radio. It is pouring rain and cars fly by me on both sides. I turn up the volume to hear over the water splashing off my windshield.
On one station, the host invites listeners to call in. "It's a serious time," he says. "Tell me how you're feeling tonight."
Feel? The only words that come to my mind are not feelings. Words like numb, detached, clinical, analytical....There's no sad. No glad. No anger. The usual hum of my wheels on the road seems lower. Do I need air in my tires?
I stop at the grocery store to get dinner because I've worked late and I don't feel like cooking. I watch a homeless man drive around the store in a motorized cart. He helps himself to a bag of chips and eats them in the cereal aisle.
I buy chicken strips and fresh fruit from the deli. I buy wine. Red. California.
I sit in the parking lot and listen to President Bush address the nation. The rain has let up but I still drive home slowly. Methodically.
I drop my purse at the door. I sit on the couch. I watch the news. I drink wine through a straw.
I deal. I cope. But I don't feel.
I spent the weekend in a funk. Not the good kind of funk. There was nothing fun nor funky about it. It was just a lot of blah.
I watched too much CNN and worked myself into a fairly significant state of anxiety on top of the funk. I figured I had two options. I could continue watching CNN while building a large plastic bubble for myself to live in for the rest of my life or I could talk to someone reasonable and level-headed.
So I decided to poke an arm out from beneath the blanket I was hiding under just long enough to dial the phone. Dave answered on the fourth ring.
Dave and I have been friends for a really, really long time. He has witnessed the majority of my humiliating moments and he has never tried to have me committed. So I figured I was safe telling him about my fears. Also, Dave is one of my more intelligent friends and he's always very honest. I knew that he'd tell me if my concerns were well-founded or if I was being a total dumb-ass. I also knew that he wouldn't tell me something just to make me feel better.
But I did feel better after talking to Dave. See, that's just the thing about him. It's the Theory of Davism. Feel like crap? Talk to Dave. Feel better. Everybody needs a Dave.
After I talked to Dave, Cat returned from being away all weekend. As soon as I heard him walk in the door, I felt immediately better. He brought me dinner and gave me snuggles and then he took me to Target and bought me a Strawberry Shortcake doll. (Shut up. It made me feel better.) And he made me laugh. He can always make me laugh. I'd say that everyone needs a Cat....but there's only one and he's all mine.
And then? Then I listened to some CDs that Dana made for me. If you don't have a Dana, I highly recommend getting one. She's absolutely faboo.
So, while I'm still feeling a bit down, I definitely feel better after being reminded once again that not all people suck.
I've been feeling sad. It isn't the crippling, can't-get-out-of-bed sort of sad. It's more the kind of sad where I curl up under a blankie and stick out my lower lip and try to wish the world away. The kind of sad that involves heavy sighing and even some crying.
I know why I'm sad. And I know that what is making me feel this way is not going to get better. But I will. Eventually.
If you thought I had stopped worrying about the state of the world, you would be mistaken. I just haven't written much about it lately because I've been paralyzed with fear and it is hard to type when that happens.
Today I read about a 21,000 pound bomb we detonated in Florida. It's described as something used in "psychological operations". Apparently, the hope is that the bomb will scare Iraqi troops into surrendering if we were to go to war. It has been suggested that they might even mistake this bomb for a nuclear bomb.
So, as part of the element of surprise, we've released video of the detonation and it is being written about and talked about in every medium. We're also going to start dressing our troops in pink tutus and attaching flashing blue lights (sponsored by KMart) to their heads.
Surprise!
All joking aside, I'm scared. Seriously scared. And I'm scared in an extreme, illogical, childish way. I'm scared in a "pleasepleaseplease don't let us all die in a huge fireball" way.
I am Chicken Little. And I want it to all go away.
One of the things I invested in when I knew I was getting braces is a Water Pik. I don't know what I was expecting....but I was not expecting to feel as though I was sandblasting graffiti off my teeth.
Tonight I attempted to eat spaghetti. I'm using the word "eat" very loosely because I mostly just ended up with a wad of noodles tangled in the left side of my braces.
No problem. Water Pik.
The noodles proved to be a forceful adversary. I guess I got caught up in the effort of extracting my dinner from my teeth because the next thing I knew....I somehow managed to spray water up the back of my throat and out my nose. Sort of like laughing milk out your nose. Only without the milk or the laughing and at at a much greater velocity.
Spaghetti 1
Me 0
When I walked in the door, a surly teenaged girl in a Hot Topic outfit looked at me like I had two heads. There are apparently not a lot of us in the 30-something age bracket frequenting Dr. McClurg's Smile Center without kids in tow.
I sat in the waiting room with Surly Girl and a handful of other teens sporting a wide variety of orthodontic appliances. I must have looked like a cocaine addict because I couldn't stop licking my teeth. I knew I wouldn't be seeing them for awhile. It was kind of like making out one last time with the boyfriend you just dumped.
Finally, they called my name. It was time to get my braces.
First I had a glamorous photo shoot. It involved a couple of plastic devices that I had to use to pry my mouth as wide open as possible. I felt very attractive.
Then they had to make a mold of my teeth. This involved cramming some goopy yellow stuff into my mouth. The goopy yellow stuff smelled like cake mix but it tasted like ass.
Finally, they got to the part I had been waiting for. Picking out the color of my brackets. (Baby blue, if you care to know.) Oh, yeah. And then actually putting them on my teeth. Again, they employed weird mouth stretching tools to ensure that my lips were moved as far from my teeth as physics would allow. I looked like an extra in a Marilyn Manson video. So pretty.
About an hour and a half later, I left The Smile Center looking like I had been sucked into a time warp and turned into a thirteen year old.
My new facial "bling" makes me feel pretty conspicuous. I'm sure I'll get used to it, but I find myself wanting to cover my mouth when I talk. Partly to hide the braces and partly because I had forgotten about the "over-abundance of spit" aspect of orthodontia.
I also find myself wishing I had stolen some of the tools used to keep my lips off my teeth because my lips and the braces are not friends.
I was sick this weekend. Every bodily function I have suddenly decided to shift into reverse. It was not pretty.
I feel better today, but still not good. I sorta feel like a wheelchair might be a good investment because I can not be bothered to sit upright and move about of my own volition.
Most disturbing is my complete inability to stop whining about how I don't feel well.
"I don't feeeeeeel good. Rub my baaaaaaack. My head huuuuuurts."
If you don't hear from me for awhile it means my husband couldn't take it anymore so he stuffed a sock in my mouth and locked me in the closet.
Just to give you a little "flava" of what my workplace is like......
Pretty much everyone in my group works really, really hard. Everyone puts in long hours. Everyone is stressed out. Nobody really gets any recognition for that. It's expected.
But last month, our VP decided to start recognizing an "Employee of the Month". Not a bad idea, really. I mean, at least people feel like someone is noticing the hard work they are doing. It's a step in the right direction.
The first employee to capture the title is a man who recently suffered a fairly serious stress-related health complication. I may be going out on a limb, here....but I'm fairly sure the 80+ hours he puts in at work may have had something to do with that.
Wouldn't it be cool if the "Employee of the Month" received a bonus or, better yet, a freakin' day off?
Yeah. That's not the case. He'll be rewarded by going to lunch with his boss and the VP.
That is, if he has the time.
At least they didn't give him a trophy. I think it is best if nobody at work has access to anything that could be considered a "blunt object".
Jennifer Lopez. "Jenny from the Block". Dance mix.
There is no reason for something like this to be on the radio. Really. It sounds like something you would hear in high impact aerobics class.
Speaking of aerobics....spring is here, so my walking days with my friend Siobhan are here, too. WooWoo! I haven't been too good about excercising for several months and I missed it. I had forgotten how good it feels to work up a sweat. I had not forgotten, however, how much fun I have with Siobhan.
Tonight she was telling me about almost getting into a brawl with some idiot-girl who needed to have her driver's license revoked. It is difficult to walk and laugh that hard at the same time. Siobhan is, like, the size of my thigh. But piss her off and you've got trouble. As my mom would say, she would be "all teeth and hair". Thankfully, I have never pissed her off.
When we walk, it serves multiple purposes. We get a workout. We vent about work. And we laugh. A lot.
How many calories does laughing burn?
Today I drove all the way to Orinda to see Myrna for a facial. There are plenty of places in Sacramento to have a facial, but Myrna is the best.
When we lived in the bay area, I saw her regularly. Some might say that makes me a spoiled little brat. And they'd be right. But since we moved, my facials have been few and far between.
Since it has been almost a year since I've had a facial, my skin had decided to revolt. But Myrna works miracles and my skin is much happier now. She also gave me a wonderful back massage (which I really needed because my stress level has caused my shoulders to relocate next to my ears).
If I were any more relaxed now, I'd wet myself.
But there's just one small problem. Guilt. I mean, I don't want to care about my skin. But I do. As I was driving home, I suddenly felt like the poster child for american excess. I mean, I drove 80 miles to have a facial. Hmmm, let's see...."War on Terrorism" or "I have pimples". What's the biggest tragedy here?
But I do feel much, much better. And that has to be a good thing, right?