Friday, Aug. 08, 2003 / 1:31 p.m.

~A Day In the Life Of - Or Until Lunch, Anyway~

But can someone really be 'too sensitive'? Ah, the Googlers, gotta love 'em. No, I'm not too sensitive, I don't believe someone can be too sensitive. I believe someone can be 'insensitive', or sensitive, but not too of the latter. More than someone being in touch with her senses, or her emotions, or being emotional, I'd be bothered by someone who is not. Someone who is insensitive, or unemotional, or unfeeling. That's worthy of the search. Here, you can now link to this entry: Joleen "too sensitive".

My father lost his hearing, or part of it, the part that enables a person to listen, and on our road trip from Dallas, Texas, to Gilroy, California, I grew tired of repeating myself to all his "Huh?"s and "What?"s, and when I became angry and he said I was speaking too softly, I simply vowed to give up. I think we must have sat in silence in roadside diners, and listened to my cassettes in the air conditioned Cabriolet.

Q has the same impairment, asks the same "Huh?"s and "What?"s and I grow weary, and angry, and give up, just the same. I don't like to repeat myself, and I do have a soft voice, if I'm not angry and raising it so everyone can hear. I can project, but the natural speaking voice is soft, mine.

Listening to more dance music here in the cubicle, Friday morning, not thinking about here, but about where I want to be, what I want to do, and at 10:17 a.m., anything is possible to dream, even if by 6:00 it's vanished.

It's later, almost time for lunch. I feel I've been running around for hours. Work is not worth writing about, not in the details. But it's busy, or I'm busy, and I'm hungry, so lunch is welcome. I vow to go home and squeeze both cats silly.

It's later still. I'm home at lunch, popping popcorn, as I have nothing substantial to eat, and I cannot bring myself to stop at a 'fast food' restaurant for viddles. The Jr Bacon Cheeseburger I ate the other day gave me alternating diarrhea and constipation for two days. Lovely.

Speaking of fast food, I was visiting the KFCCruelty.com web site last night, after reading that Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders was arrested protesting outside a KFC recently, but I have to say that the poultry 'farming' conditions used by KFC's poultry processor are not exclusive to that one. There was an expose published in our local rag years ago, so shocking and important and revelatory that I saved it, have it somewhere still. And my point in that is this, I already know how chickens are treated, or mistreated, and I try not to eat them at all, unless I know they're free range, organically raised and oh so humanely slaughtered. But it's hard, you know. One gets hungry, one is 'on the go', one drives by five million of the 'fast food' places, with the sixteen year old workers in the kitchen, working for minimum wage, not washing their hands after they shit mid day, etc., etc., but we're hungry, and it looks so good on the commercials, and well, sometimes we eat it anyway, in spite of all we know to be true.

I don't think KFC is any more worthy of a targeted protest than maybe Tyson or Holly Farms or any other poultry 'manufacturer'. I work next door to an abattoir, and I've written about it many, many times, seeing the chickens in those crates, and how many are actually dead upon delivery?, we don't know, but they're there, right now they're there, I'll drive past them on my way back to work, and I can't even look anymore. I know what fate awaits them. No, it's not just KFC. And I don't eat at KFC anyway. Haven't since Listerine and I went bowling back in January and she wanted to go there for dinner first, after work. I ordered a side of smashed potatoes and one of green beans. Horrible stuff.

Moving right along, and now wrapping up, there is a growing Brazilian population in my neighborhood, and yesterday, as indication of the breadth and depth, we got notices at our doors here in the apartment complex, notices that there is now a surveillance camera at the dumpster, hence labeled 'trash compactor', and it is there to make sure no one dumps what they should not. But, alas, my point, it is written in Spanish, English and yes, Portuguese. Wow. That's a first. And this morning as I exited my abode I heard loud shouting by some men at the end of the parking lot, shouting in, yes I know what it sounds like, Portuguese.

Now, must eat popcorn, and continue with this, the last day of this week.

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