The" Pale Shelter " Entry
Date: The groundhog's day. Of all the animals in the kingdom...
Climate: nicer than most
Eating: pistachios
Drinking: water
Feeling: burnt
Listening to: the tv in the background
Watching: ten o'clock news
Reading: In These Times
I don't really know if I ever was smart, but tonight I feel dunce like.
Everyone has told me that the unfortunate (?) fact that I have had to postpone pretty much all plans and desires for the "life" I had intended to have sans college, will in fact make me into a better and more seasoned journalist, attorney, politician.
Its not that I don't necessarily know this. Its that its taking an awfully long time to kick in.
While driving the state line today between IN and IL, I realized that i have spent now three weeks of my life trying to get people to care about the fact that they have, are, and may continue to be part of the largest demographic in America: poor and largely uneducated.
Why should they be excited...I wondered while getting lost. Over and over again. But thats besides the point.
Excitement...about a twenty two cent pay increase every two-four months...excited that they have been given collective bargaining rights...excited that they will continue to save the State millions of dollars in "health care" costs, while recieving less benefits than the average construction worker...I don't know.
So I walk in. Get them excited about getting involved in the thankless government they work for. Leave with signatures and rememberances of easier times.
And then I go back to the office on Clark street. I file my reports. I listen to them tell me that I am doing great; I listen to them discuss where they should "place me" next--Kankakee? Aurora? Waukegan?
And I watch my bank account slowly deplete, listen as I call and talk to my financial backers about my "situation," figure out just how much this work will get me in the grand scheme of things. I watch the news in dismay; read articles about how deep seeded the corruption is, and I realize that I am not even just a small part in the change; I really don't even exist.
And I too think back to easier times, maybe. And then its all relative and I slap myself out of it and get on with life. And wait for the slowest dryer ever created to give me snuggle soft clothes to brave the arctic chill which I will venture into tomorrow, to rouse that excitement once more.
But then again, how many primaries tomorrow? How many same sided politicians, but with different fonts, on their identically sloganed signs? How many voters contract that excitement, and then vote for that politician-- who will obviously promptly abandon their interests if and when elected-- How many more generations of this?
...feels like a long time coming.
Date: The groundhog's day. Of all the animals in the kingdom...
Climate: nicer than most
Eating: pistachios
Drinking: water
Feeling: burnt
Listening to: the tv in the background
Watching: ten o'clock news
Reading: In These Times
I don't really know if I ever was smart, but tonight I feel dunce like.
Everyone has told me that the unfortunate (?) fact that I have had to postpone pretty much all plans and desires for the "life" I had intended to have sans college, will in fact make me into a better and more seasoned journalist, attorney, politician.
Its not that I don't necessarily know this. Its that its taking an awfully long time to kick in.
While driving the state line today between IN and IL, I realized that i have spent now three weeks of my life trying to get people to care about the fact that they have, are, and may continue to be part of the largest demographic in America: poor and largely uneducated.
Why should they be excited...I wondered while getting lost. Over and over again. But thats besides the point.
Excitement...about a twenty two cent pay increase every two-four months...excited that they have been given collective bargaining rights...excited that they will continue to save the State millions of dollars in "health care" costs, while recieving less benefits than the average construction worker...I don't know.
So I walk in. Get them excited about getting involved in the thankless government they work for. Leave with signatures and rememberances of easier times.
And then I go back to the office on Clark street. I file my reports. I listen to them tell me that I am doing great; I listen to them discuss where they should "place me" next--Kankakee? Aurora? Waukegan?
And I watch my bank account slowly deplete, listen as I call and talk to my financial backers about my "situation," figure out just how much this work will get me in the grand scheme of things. I watch the news in dismay; read articles about how deep seeded the corruption is, and I realize that I am not even just a small part in the change; I really don't even exist.
And I too think back to easier times, maybe. And then its all relative and I slap myself out of it and get on with life. And wait for the slowest dryer ever created to give me snuggle soft clothes to brave the arctic chill which I will venture into tomorrow, to rouse that excitement once more.
But then again, how many primaries tomorrow? How many same sided politicians, but with different fonts, on their identically sloganed signs? How many voters contract that excitement, and then vote for that politician-- who will obviously promptly abandon their interests if and when elected-- How many more generations of this?
...feels like a long time coming.