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Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 / 10:54 a.m. ~A Little Crush, Another Rant, On the Bus Again?!, and Me, My Bestest Friend~ My first cubicle entry since I got the new PC here at work (I�ve felt oppressed and fearful of prying eyes). And I just figured out how to wrap the text to the window, and luckily I�d closed it earlier because the (new) Site Manager walked by and suddenly was leaning into my cubicle looking at my pictures of Norman and Gladysn, asking which is older, etc, and I found myself looking at the hair on his hands and arms, and the little dried bit of snot in his nose, but finding him totally attractive and endearing nonetheless. Moments later I was in the break room getting a refill of my bottle of water, or refilling my empty water bottle, and there he came, as he moves quickly, as do I, and he was telling me there are two of me, as I was really back at my cube, and he looked for something to eat in the machine that spins the food around at the press of a button, settling on Honey Nut Cheerios, telling me he loves cats, loves to watch them, not dogs so much, cats are superior, and they know it, and I said, yes, they are not at all humble. Know what? I missed writing at work! I was afraid, I thought Computer Dude would tap in, read my diatribes, come yell at me or something. And speaking of him, I walked in yesterday to see him coming toward me, and felt forced to acknowledge his presence, said �Hello� first, and he said it in reply. We greeted one another, as two civilized adults. Imagine that. Today the thoughts stuck on mental internal replay are of D.C., the next Demonstration, and yet again, climbing aboard the bus, losing sleep, talking to strangers, listening to old activists, lusting after young ones, and doing it all again. I had fantasized about renting a car, getting a hotel room, having a place to crash, horizontal and comfortable. Like Sandy, I tell myself I cannot do the bus, not again, never again, but then the time comes, and it�s really hard to beat the convenience, the built in driver, the cheap roundtrip fare, the guaranteed ride there and back, lickety split. Or sort of anyway. I haven�t done the research I planned to do, but I did just map out the drive on my Map Point, and it�s some 600 miles, each way, some 9 to 10 hours of driving, depending, and even with a bag of goodies, and CDs to listen to, it would be grueling alone, and I know of no one I�d want to ride with me, share driving, not even Sandy� although maybe, but we haven�t kept in touch the way we both meant to. Yeah, so I have a little crush on the Site Manager. Egad. Distractions here - though I miss the cubicle musings, it can be hard to concentrate with the phone interrupting. Back to the main topic, another gathering of lefties, peaceniks, antiwar activists, anti-Bush rational thinking individuals, all ages, shapes, colors, creeds, Americans. Oh, oh, this reminds me, I was lying in bed watching Letterman last night, and why oh why does he give air time to the Bush Administration?, but he had Dick�s wife on, Lynn Cheney, and she�s written a book, I guess, and why he wants to engage her in political discussion, Jesus, David, she�s the wife of the Vice President, she is NOT a political office holder, nor candidate. I don�t know, she seemed intelligent enough, but this was what had me grab my remote in fury and turn him off as fast as I could: they�re talking about Iraq, and what a bangup job the US is doing tearing the country down to �rebuild� it, and the audience is APPLAUDING!, and I�m shouting at them, SHEEP, and asking them do they not read the news?!?!?!, and they�re on TV, on tape, so they can�t hear me� Dave says what a shame it is though, that our young men in uniform have to die to achieve this wonderful liberation and rebuilding (I think he means stormtrooping) we�re doing over there, and Mrs Dick says that she knows that �Americans are heartsick when another American dies�, and I was furious. This is the xenophobic, provincial, nationalistic, �patriotic� crap I hate. Why do we hate it when AMERICANS are killed? Why don�t our hearts break when Iraqis are killed???!!!!!???? Or Afghans?!!?!?!?! Or when African children die of AIDS because they are in the midst of an epidemic and the money Bush promised them is being allocated toward rebuilding a country we sought to destroy? Sick, it made me sick, and Dave, and the audience seemed behind this woman, they were encouraging her all the way. And why aren�t they FURIOUS at the deaths, at the lack of photos of the dead in the papers, or on the news? If they are so heartsick at the deaths of Americans, and only Americans, why aren�t they fighting Bush? How can they seriously sit and applaud the Invasion and subsequent Occupation of a country that had no cause to be invaded and occupied? Are people really that ignorant? I have to stop and recognize that the Letterman taping audience is not necessarily an indicator of the entire voting public, so maybe we�re okay. Upshot is, it will be great to have two sleepless nights, riding on a bus bumping our way to the nation�s capital, just to be surrounded by intelligent, thinking, rational, informed people, even if it is the equivalent of �preaching to the choir�. It�s a chance to take over the city, the Capital, force people to take note, and if the numbers are as large as expected, the media will take note, if not Bush, and the Dem candidates who want to take his place, and maybe some change will be forced, who knows? It can�t hurt. Today�s a day when I can�t relate to anyone here, at work, I can tell. I�ve already listened to all of Neil Young�s �Harvest�, a fine, fine album, and I need to get fresh batteries and more CDs at lunch, assuming I remember. Writing here feels like having someone to talk to, even if it is just more talking to myself, the internal voice which never goes away, the voice that asks how I am, what I�m up to each day, reminds me of everything I need to remember, my bestest friend, me. Cost of the War in Iraq
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