To save yourself from charlatans and thieves.

To me now the more interesting thing

Is not where I first got my skill but where

I began to use them first in earnest

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latt’r Day Saints.

The Church was where I first had learned to loathe

Outward opinions and backward thinking

Where in earnest I lied solely to please

To please the captor and entice its love

But ire only comes from those without

Connection, without love of man

Woman or child, only love of “God”

So follow, follow, follow on and search

For love and guidance from imagin’ry worlds

And lovely falsehoods leading out and on

Make sure the child is not spared the whip

Neither the rod, nor fist. Nor hate nor lore.

But all things are in abundance given

Such generosity! And who am I

To scorn the gifts that had be freely giv’n?

And who am I to Hope for more to come?

And who are we to expect that our world

Owes something to us for having been born?

We are nothing so special to deserve

Any treatment but for what we demand

Any changes but for those we create

Religion gave these powers all away

To a God lying inert in his grave.

It teaches us to wait and hope and pray

For things to change on some ethereal plane

And thus affect our lives for better change

A change that would not come even if you

Were to wait out your life in penitence

You would do better steeped in petulance

At least discontent leads to changes made

Rather than changes asked for and ignored

Left to hands invisible, powerless

Left to a dream, a whimsy, yet unproved

When all who work for change can find it here

In this world and this life which we must live

If one would work for one’s own betterment

Then life could be as marv’lous as one wants

But, lo, they tell us “prayer and sacrifice

Makes up for lack of action, God so says.”

Believe! Believe! They scream and cry and laud.

Believe their brand of haughty ignorance

Think not and never question what is true

Just shut your senses off and follow on

Integrate with the herd and soldier on

Under false pretense and idolatry

But look! I demand sentience of you.

I'm hoping that things will go better for me next quarter. I'd like to feel slightly less rushed and frantic. Classes that I'm shooting for are Spanish 201, Psych 200 (Animal behavior), and the intro to psych class. Maybe I'll just make like every other "troubled youth" and become a therapist, live out my problems over and over, trying to resolve them through others. I'm not certain that I'm optimistic enough for that, though. I have some very pitiful opinions about people in general and the way that they are.

But I'm not speaking of life, I'd settle for being set for the next eight weeks or so. I'm glad to get out of English classes, though I may try again later. Survey courses don't actually give an accurate survey of things, I think. Usually you just learn enough to be confused and frustrated by the other things that you see. Maybe I'll float back over later. Getting a degree is secondary to me--I just like to learn. I like new ideas and insights, even though I often just shoot them down. I want to take a real survey--a few classes in everything, and see just what appeals to me. Maybe for summer quarter I'll take something really random. Like physics. That would be pretty sweet.

I have to get up super early to stumble over to my computer and get registered. Shouldn't be a problem. The problem will be trying to get back to sleep afterward. This lack of a path is, though actually a sort of "direction," beginning to feel like a cop-out from life. I feel like I should plan for life, for being able to help support a family. I'd like to be a valuable piece of my relationship, rather than some sort of free loader. It doesn't matter if people want you where you are, if you aren't attempting to earn your keep, then you are a free loader. I'd like to be able to feel like I'm not indebted here.

I still have fifteen pages of research to write, in a class that I will almost certainly get no better than a 2.5 in. My TA is a super hard grader (I know because the other TA said so!). I'm not going to give up yet, I still have three weeks to impress her enough to decide that I'm worth grading nicely. Think I did a good job today displaying a comprehension of the materials. We had the crazy small group project things, and I was the only one of the four of us talking and trying to drive the conversation. I'm sure she noticed.

That midterm grade...I know that I'm better than that. I'm not a "C" student. At least, I'd better not be. I want to be better than just plain average. It'll make a degree and all that, but I've always thought that I'm smart. Now it seems like I've been set down on the same level as everybody else. They haven't come up--somehow I fell down. Maybe it's a good thing that I'm so pretty; I'll always have that. Poor substitute for intellect, though. Not much worth having, in comparison.

Maybe if I was going to school on momma's dollar, and had all day and all night to study and work, maybe then I could give what appears to be expected of me. But I live something like twenty miles away, don't have a car, can't get financial aid or a loan, have to work almost every day (including Saturday). My entire life seems to have been designed to be a stumbling block between me and school. Comes with the territory, I guess.

It would not have been any better if I had stayed with the crazies; indeed, it would have been much worse. There would be no school for me at all. At least this way I have some sort of "in" to getting an education. Not sure if I'm worthy for the expense. Thousands upon thousands of dollars for a "C."

My other midterm didn't go nearly so poorly, but it was almost mindlessly easy. I got a 3.8 on it. :-D I want to find out how I did on my essay; the stress of waiting is killing me. My last essay (for the other class) is what got me that beautiful 2.3. I really hope that this one went over better. I'll find out tomorrow at ten o'clock or so. Until then, all I can do is stress and hope alternately.

My life began in bitt’rest poverty
Not lacking money- I was poor of love
Ere long the word of God had awful seemed
Serving but to augment my captors’ pow’r
Supposedly I was born just the same
As the one before and the three since
Sameness to my treatment did not extend
For in a group so large the must needs be
A common enemy all to unite
And ‘Satan’ far too untouchable seemed
For it takes flesh and blood to feel one’s spite.
Neither kind words nor soft touch truly felt
Without the fear of anger I provoked
Please intervene for me dear mother, dear
Father please dilute thy anger, hear me
As I apologize and plead and lie
As I take every step to mitigate
And watch and wait, remember to recount
What once was said and done upon my flesh.
My memory of such things still is fresh
Though through the years I never had cried out
I catalogued each incident, I knew
Someday perhaps I’d find the strength to speak
That in the future I’d need to be free
But at the time I was just a child who
Confused had tried to learn the madman’s ways
To better myself unto what would please
To learn what I did that had made such great offense
As to instill such rage against a child
Who could scarce speak her mind, let alone stand
In strength or confidence before the man
Who was supposed to know such much more than
His darling daughter sweetly young could know
I speak as though I were the only one
Who suffered dire offenses at his hand
I must make clear that this is not the case
My siblings, each all four, had felt this wrath
And my mother sweet had long since been cowed
And stood not for herself, nor for her brood
My elder sister, first of all of us,
Was made to stand beneath his level gaze
Aged not much beyond young ten or twelve
She ended cowed and was drugged to submit
My younger sister through this learned to hide
As did I, what we felt and how we thought
To act was second nature to us all
A mask we gave to please the man’s delusions
I lie with ease, can take a roll to suit
My situation, dire or relaxed
Such was the first lesson of my young life.

....................

I still remember, Love, that fateful day

When thy beauty and my ardor coincide

And in my mind: you, night to great to touch

But reached I; in reaching found your grasp

Likewise extended out to grope for me

And found. And so reached we together

And in reaching met. What once was nothing

Changed and grew by unseen power driven

In this the Us we built remainèd strong

And on for years such strength not ceased to build

Thine arms me lift to higher plane, above

My suff’ring long endured and long ingrained

Thou my eyes opened to the better world

Which had so long sat out beyond my grasp

Thou wert not my beginning, but my end

Shall surely come while I, beneath your gaze,

Blossom, live, then fade away to die.

To start at the ‘beginning’ would discount

The greater impact had by greater days

And minimize which I mean to augment.

Namely- the learning how to love and trust in truth

The Fate glimps’d by two strangers who would meet

And fight by tooth and nail for what ought have

Been freely giv’n. But Fate and Chance would show

A smallest moment, less than opportune

And pose the question “How hard willst thou fight?”

To which the useless many shall reply

‘Aught but little,’ and give nary a thought.

But lo, I bested these in but an hour

My mind was made, and my battles chosen

A war to fight and hence a war to win.

And out from thence I scarcely found my way

But did follow where’er my heart had led

Me on and chastised- had no choice at all

But to follow, fight, hold out, and pray

That someday blissful peace might come descend

Relieve me of the horrors from that day

Those days when I, too young to think alone,

Had followed blindly, questioned not, and lost

All track which thoughts were mine and which had come

Down from without, oft carried in with blows

So low that many know them not as blows

But as a punishment so cruèl and

Most unusual- though in some circles

Quite opposite- both usual and common

But endured I and my soul kept intact

Until out in that brighter, greater day

In safety and security I wept

For what I’d lost and trials still to be

But these at least were chosen by my hand.

I sometimes wonder if there is something wrong with me, to think as I do. Anybody that I view as being somehow beneath me I can't seem to believe is truly human. The only feeling that I can manage to drum up is that of a remorseless disgust, like looking down at so many bugs. Cockroaches. Beetles. Sometimes something as interesting as a colony of ants or as powerful as a wasp. But inconsequential. I find it hard to believe that these others, any others, can think. That they have lives, goals, hopes, fears. That they were born once and that some day they shall die.

I have no compassion. No pity. I wonder if really my feelings are ours, and I am just the one who is not afraid to own up to it. Not afraid to be caught in true cultural noncompliance. Not afraid to have such a horrible and inhuman idea.

On the subject of disabilities: I understand that it is not their fault. But I also understand that it was only misfortune and not fault that caused the cow to be born bovine. Said cow is still destined to become a meal. To do its part, by its death, to further the cause of us all. Should not all of us have such a simple options for making a true difference in the world?

Is it less morally wrong to euthanize a person who was once sentient and is now braindead, than it it is to euthanize those who were born braindead through some miscasting of fate? Nobody wants to think about the whole question, the whole issue, the big picture. It is a hard question to confront, a hard thing to think about. But these hard questions must be asked and confronted. The day will come when we need an answer and do not have one. I'm not forwarding any answers today, though I do have my notions. I do have my ideas, and those who know me probably know exactly what I would say. But I will not declare it definitive, by any means. All I have are ideas and questions.


On another note:
The way of the philosopher intrigues me--one seeks to definhe life and its meanings through the narrow scope of one's own limited interactions with it. That one might seize upon truth is indeed a fallacy, as even beginning to contemplate such things has already set one immovably apart. There is no halfway, you are either ignorant or you are not. Those who are ignorant usually do not feel the hunger to know, or have sated their hunger in the fallacious promises of churches or support groups.

Those with the hunger search, and strive, and learn. Those who truly have this hunger are never sated. Never done searching or learning. We were born unfulfilled, and we will die unfulfilled. But we will perhaps stumble upon the meaning, maybe it will turn out well for us. Perhaps we will find fulfillment. And it is for this that we search. For the hope-nay, the dream- that we search. We refuse to take the "easy way" of bowing and belief, we search for concrete answers in the real world.

....................

I feel
daunted here- I’m not “in depth” enough, I don’t have the same ability to “see”
into the texts as these others seem to. So I made a good point on my paper, so
what? I’m not doing particularly well in the discussion section of this class. I
don’t think that I’m able for school; I don’t think that I’m going to be able
to succeed here. He thinks me so able, and I’m terrified to disappoint. But
this just gets more and more terrifying; my failure seems more and more
inevitable. I’m out of my depth, out past the borders of my abilities. I’m tempted
to take that offer, and quit to go and work full-time. I’m scared of failing,
nobody would ever think of me the same way. Nobody would respect me anymore.

.. ..

But is
failure better? Would it not be better to cut my losses, and skip out while I’m
(ostensibly) ahead? I’m so unsure- I don’t think that I really have any choice,
though. I have to accomplish something; I can’t let myself be useless.
Pointless. Worthless. I can’t let them think that I really am a failure. But
I’m not certain how I will fare in this endeavor. “Not well” is the response I
hear ringing in my head. Am I not smart enough? Am  I merely lacking in drive? What can I change
to make this more possible?

.. ..

I just want
to live. I want to cook food and clean, have children, live in a little house
with a big yard and have a dog. Would that I were born in olden days, when life
meant survival, and it was simple. Straight-forward. Would that I could simply
be. Alas, it is all far too complex for such a simple existence to be even
vaguely within the realm of possibility for me.

.. ..

I want
someone to tell me what I need to do, what I should do, what I want to do. I
want somebody else in charge of my life- I feel far too adrift having to make
so many decisions on my own. I want it simple again.  But I have grown up. I have stood up and
begun to move under my own power, and I guess that makes it time to think under
my own power too.

So yesterday I decided that for my day off I was going to go to the Planned Parenthood walk-in clinic and acquire some birth control. I was being a responsible person! So responsible that I bussed out to South Hill (which I now think of as the boring mall at the ass end of nowhere), and walked about a mile to the clinic. Only to arrive about an hour early and have to sit around for ages, before the real waiting even began.

But I'm not bitter about that part! The other kids waiting were pretty cool and nobody was being judgemental. In the waiting room, anyway. Then I was called into the back to get weighed and have my blood pressure taken by a secretary (the scale and sphygmomanometer were both automatic, I can't take that lady seriously). I think she was supposed to be a nurse.

A n y w a y, she looks at my ears and goes "What are those? Stretching your ears?" When I explained the concept of gauging, she gave me the most ridiculously incredulous face and I was quite offended.

The long-story-short of my Planned Parenthood visit was that I went to get birth control, so I can be twice the slut I am, and I get judged for my ears.

Isn't this a messed up world?

Edit: By the way, PP condoms officially have the best slogan ever. "Proper attire required for entry." LOL!

Check out my blog! Just politics so far, but I'm thinking of some interesting pop culture things that I might decide to write.

http://hopespeak.wordpress.com/

Tell me what you think, I'm interested in feedback.

I've been making my way (slowly) through The Politics, and Aristotle seems to be the first real functional anarchist. He believed that if people were left with a minimum of government interference, they would do what worked. Which usually corresponds with what is right. He also seemed to believe that greed was unnatural. His description of how society should be has long been considered to be one of the bases of Karl Marx's theories, one of the ideas that he may have come across to point him toward the developement of a communist system.

Marx, however, carried what Aristotle saw as a solely micro-level system into the greatest macro. Aristotle thought that to organize society, the only thing that really needed organization was the individual and the family. Organization in all else would follow. Marx proposed a system coming at it from the other side. Starting from the top of government, he thought that he would be able to organize downward. Seeing how far both Greece and Communist Russia made it, I have the suppose that neither of them were right.

So what really does work for a society? The answer is probably nothing. Aristotle was right in one respect- for society to be organized and for it to make sense, people have to be organized and reasonable. Too bad that will never happen. Expecting reason from what has time and again proven itself to be an irrarional species is the worst kind of informed optimism. Which is to say- it is the kind that tends to backfire. Spectacularly.

Which brings me to another question- what the hell am I doing? How can I blithely set myself down in the middle of a corrupt system? Regardless of what everybody will tell you, I really am quite naive. I am good at what I do (and that is writing arguments and persuasions), and writing speeches seems the perfect way to express that. But it leaves me open to all sorts of eventual trouble. I will end up having to support things that I am actually against, writing blazing arguments in favor of what I know in my heart to be wrong.

I suppose that I could always be some sort of reporter or columnist. Deal government until it turns my stomach, and quit to join the press corps, like everybody else. Bring out with me every dirty secret I manage to accrue.

Which is making a whole assload of other assumptions. Like the fact that I reach my goal at all. I probably won't make it above a governor's aide, let alone into the thick of something like D.C. As wonderful and exciting as it sounds, I don't know if I'll be able to get there. And as good as I am, I don't have the connections or the money to start falling in with the crowd that would let me into what I view as the "interesting" work.

Maybe I'll just follow politics closely and make some sort of blog site. You can make good money off of those, I hear. And it would appear that I never run out of things to say.