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2001-10-24 / 1:37 p.m. ~Balancing the Yin with the Yang~ The shoes survived fine, the saliva dried, the suede a bit darker now, in places, tiny teeth marks, nothing too horrible, I have them on now. 9:58 a.m. Should this be a blog instead of a diary? Should it be a running commentary? Why? Who would care? I read a review of some new book, some autobiographical book about a restaurant family. In fact, that may be the name of it, A Restaurant Family. The reviewer wrote that clearly the author is fascinated by her own family, but why would anyone else be? Ouch. I think that when I consider writing my own memoir. It would be for me, not for the world, and who would the audience be, besides me? I told a friend about my idea, a former friend (I have lots of those), and she asked me just that, why would anyone else want to read it? Again, ouch. I think family histories with murder at the centers are interesting. I think fascinating people are interesting to read about, whether they are my parents or not. But she did have a valid point - if you want to be published as a writer you do need to have something to say, something with a bit of universal appeal. That's neither here nor there. This morning, first thing, well, almost, Lulu asked to touch one of the L.'s hair. "Can I touch it?". Because it's different than usual, I guess. I overheard this and asked, "Did you just ask if you could touch her hair?", and she felt silly, for a moment, but that was not my intent. I had to clarify, and the adrenaline started flowing, this felt controversial, this was a touchy subject, "reverse racism", the discrimination I've felt for these last 3 3/4 years. There was a woman who used to work here, a woman with a lot of Caucasian genetic material, and thusly her hair was a combination of wiry and soft, it was unusual. She was African American, but she was light skinned, not mulatto, just light. Anyway, she'd had her hair in different designs for the whole time I knew her, at first it was very short, then covered with braids, and it grew out, underneath. She let it all out, natural, at one point, and it was beautiful, it was long and wild, curly, crazy, she looked like a hippie, a 50something year old hippie. I asked her, "Can I touch your hair?", and she, or was it K.?, asked me in return, "You never felt a black person's hair?!"� I wanted to feel HER hair. I wanted to feel her hair, not a black person's hair. But what it comes down to, here, with them, is that I am not Joleen, I am the white person. I had never encountered racism until I started working here, never felt judged for my race before this. I deal with it, but it doesn't feel good. It's my turn, sure, I should feel the backlash for my race, right? Er, no, I don't think so, but I deal with it. I said so this morning, told Lulu the story, and they all overheard, I don't whisper. P. heard me, stood up, wanted to know who had asked me that, was seemingly shocked, but she is the only pure heart here, I've known that. And Lulu said, "That person has issues", but it fell then, it fell to the floor, flat, and they went on, everyone, talking about whatever. I know they thought what they thought, but they weren't going to get into it, not then, not with me. And I could see the temp perk up behind me, in his cube, all quiet, reading his black literature, learning his roots, and I know how he feels. He wrote something recently and let everyone read it, everyone but me - he is a writer - I think it was about being black, in America. I heard people talking about how good it was. It all comes down to that though, I'm the white one. Oh well. What can I do? I was the accident, remember? No one asks to be born. On another note (B flat?), it was really cool to read in Moby's journal (click on "Moby Updates") his account of being at the VH1/Vogue Fashion Awards, then see him there last night! First, I only caught the middle to the end, missed him, but fell asleep with VH1 on and they replayed it, an "encore" presentation, so I woke up and saw him (he won an award for "Visionary Music Video") - he is so CUTE! So unassuming, unpretentious, so real, so pure of heart, seemingly. A person I really wish I could know. And I love his writing, he is so funny, articulate, opinionated. Insert a big sigh right about here� Women on his message boards write that they've met him and he is just as wonderful in person. And he recently felt the need to defend his sexual orientation, says he is definitely straight (YAY!), but wishes we lived in a world where it didn't matter (again, YAY!). I just keep sighing�aren't crushes hell? Later: Oh wow, more adrenaline, this is too intense for me, why do I work here? Why? Oh right, close to home, decent salary, paid vacation time, right, there are reasons, right? The constant religion, the hypocrisy, the faux-Christianity, it's too much, too much really - okay, here's the latest�I don't always "key" PO BOXes for addresses, someone asked, that's what I said, turns out I'm in error, yet I never get errors, so someone, Lulu I think, says I'm lucky, I've been doing it wrong all this time, L. gets me the memo, here, I need to do it the correct way to avoid errors on my auditing. Again, I've been "lucky". So, P., dear P., she of pure heart, says that people talk about luck, but no one's lucky, one is "blessed". I say, "What if you don't believe in god, what if you are atheist, or agnostic?", and she doesn't hear me. I repeat it to Lulu, say, "I think you guys are prejudiced against those who don't believe in god", and she says, loudly, "There are two addresses, Heaven and Hell!", so I say, "Oh, so if I don't believe in god I'm going to hell?"�and because of the roofing activities D. says we have to leave out the front, everyone is going to move cars, my comment is lost, it's all gone. Insane. Would Christ approve? Why do I work here? Why do I listen to what these people say? So homogenous, so close-minded, how do I stand it? Is it true that what doesn't kill me makes me stronger? Can I put this all in the memoir? Next to my years working at the bookstore? I think it would all fit in, don't you? First I'm the only heterosexual, now the only Caucasian, the only agnostic. Isn't life interesting? Is there a group of people anywhere, a group in which I would belong? Really though, would Jesus H. Christ his ownself condone disapproval of people for their beliefs? I ask you. I don't think he'd approve at all. I think he would come into this little group and have a thing or two to say to them, correct their behavior a bit. Just a bit. Fucking Christians. They never really follow Christ's teachings, do they? They only pretend, so they can believe they'll be the ones to get into their "heaven". Oh hell, now I'll get hate mail. Later: Almost time for lunch (these "here's what's happening NOW" entries are stupid - I think it's only happening because I don't have anyone to talk to, so I'm talking to my diary - this too shall pass) - just checked email on my break, saw the latest nasty guestbook entry. Whatever. Why would I delete it? Does he/she really want me to? Nah, I don't care. I mean, I do, but I don't. You're not alone. Lots of people hate right now, it's not too popular to oppose the war, not yet. If it escalates, gets really bad, involves a lot more countries, or if terrorism in this country escalates, or if Americans start getting killed "over there", people will start to re-think things. Until then, I'm used to it, I fully expect the antagonism and hatred for my beliefs. I'm white, I'm agnostic, I'm a pacifist, I don't shave my pits and I eat meat. Jesus, shoot me now!!! Don't forget, I prefer sex with men, yet I am a feminist. Wacky, huh? Besides, if you feel the need to bash someone in her guestbook for shit she writes in her fucking DIARY, well, to use Lulu's words, you have "issues". People will never change. And if there weren't evil nasty people in this world how would we know those who are genuine and good? How would I recognize the goodness of a heart like Moby's if there weren't people like the nasty guestbook signer? If there were no hate how would we know love? It's all yin and yang, it's all balance. I don't know how I stay balanced amidst the apparent unevenness, but I do, I manage. Nothing stays down too long before it floats back up, nor remains floating on the air without sinking to the surface. For every person who writes me a kind email note, or signs something friendly and positive in my guestbook, there will be someone who does quite the opposite. It's to be expected, I suppose. The day will continue, more issues, more controversy, I must learn to keep things to myself - nearly impossible for someone so opinionated. I try not to talk, to join in, but I am essentially an extrovert, so it's hard. This is all me learning, and hopefully I'll grow. Cost of the War in Iraq
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