Roots

I came across this article about urban farming. I ran across it via fubar, which is usually full of interesting headlines and articles. This was no exception- but it was the first one I've found through this site (the scrolling headlines at the top of the primarily social-networking-based website) that rubbed my equality-loving self completely the wrong way. I am quite impressed by the overall idea of urban farming- it seems like it's much overdue, and I'd love to see more of this. However, the racial undertones of this article just stomped my principals. Why is everything about race?! These people have a great thing here, why do they feel the need to limit it to their race? I can understand that things haven't been even or fair in the eyes of history, but, seriously? Aren't we a little past the point that race has to be the center of every project? No one is banned to any part of the bus, no one is rejected from jobs, resteraunts or otherwise (in theory- there are some seriously "deep south" places that still practice this) due to race. Why does an agricultural project need racial undertones to be respected? Not all poor folks are black, not all rich folks are white, and it's about time everyone- minorities not excluded- stopped perpetuating the idea that anyone deserves pity based on the color of their skin. It's innappropriate, unneccesary and, oh yeah, illegal. 1959- segregation. 2009- inaugeration. It's time to show our children that race, gender and creed really don't have to hold you back unless you choose to let them do such.

It pisses me off more than I can explain when people look at me like I lost my mind if I talk about discrimination. I'm a white female. What would I know about discrimination? Screw gender, no one's ever been able to tell me a thing about what girls could or couldn't do. It was being beaten by three girls at the age of 12 for my race- and two of those girls I'd known since Kindergarten, if not earlier. They were hispanic- Mexican, specifically, as I grew up on a border town. I hear the phrase 'reverse racism' and it astounds me. What's reversed? It looks like racism to me. There's nothing different- racism works the same way no matter who it's pointed at. I grew up a minority, and I still am more comfortable being the only "white girl" in a crowd than in a crowd of people with the same color skin as me. I've dated fewer white men than any other race, which isn't that much of a shock to me, but has won me quite a bit of attention. I have friends of all races, have dated men of all races, and it really isn't that big a deal to me. Prejudice, and the abolishment of such, has always been of interest to me, because of my experiences as a child. It is intense to me, though, that if I get on a bus, and sit next to my black (male) friend, a fellow passenger finds it both neccesary and appropriate to point-blank state that she has no problem with interracial relationships. It's no secret that there's still some animosity towards these situations, but why is it still a big enough issue that people feel the need to go out of their way to show their support for it? I appreciate the support, but it saddens me greatly that there's still enough of an issue with something so personal and individual, and so basic, that people feel the need to put themselves on display as 'for' or 'against'. It's 2009, people! How is race still an issue at all?!

Responsibility

It amazes me that there are adults who join the Army, spend three years in, and still are completely clueless as to the meaning of the word 'responsibility'. Passing a message on to someone else, when using that message to shirk responsibility you'd accepted, is not acceptable. She outranks me and still doesn't get the fact that she needs to be where she says she's going to be, so someone's first sergeant doesn't call in a panic ten minutes after a meeting started trying to find someone to cover down for what she'd agreed to do.
I lose my temper, I'm not perfect, I forget things sometimes. Never, though, have I EVER, even once, made such an effort to pass off something that was my responsibility to someone else. I don't know why anyone would want to. That puts them in a bad light, and potentially screws it up for everyone else involved, too. I work in a clinic with very limited personnel. Had I been the only tech available today, someone who had no idea how to do this would have had to do it, or someone would have ended up in deep doo-doo for not doing their job. Hint: it wouldn't have been me or anyone in my chain of command. When you work Monday-Friday, and are not directly treating patients or doing something mission essential, you can man the hell up every once in a while when something that IS mission essential cuts into your free time. Her office would still run, and paperwork would still be processed, and the computers would still be up and running every day if she didn't work there at all. She drives me nuts.
"Selfless service" Isn't that an Army Value? Guess she missed the small writing when she signed that contract.
I'm not perfect, but, man, try to play soldier every once in a while, would you?

Legendary

Ashton and I have been dating about two weeks. That's such a short amount of time, but how long does it take before you're supposed to know when you've met the person you've been waiting for your whole life?
It's a huge statement, I know.
I tried to be logical about it, I tried to slow down. Even logically, I had plenty of reasons to be happy and satisfied being with him above anyone else I've dated. Last night the logic was overtaken by the emotions that we'd both tried to slow. He told me he loved me. It was a slip of the tongue, but he meant it, as he explained. He and I have both been trying to fight back words that have never come that easily to either of us before for over a week now. I've always been the emotional sort, the kind to rush things, and figure out how to handle the details later. When feelings started flooding in with him, I tried to close the floodgates. It was more than usual, faster than usual, but I tried to slow it down. It was fast, too fast. It was too soon to talk about the way I felt. We crept into discussions about these things, and we both always agreed on how we were feeling, and, inevitably, one of us would say 'but we have plenty of time' or something to that effect, and the subject would change. It was easier that way.
I love him, too, and I don't know how that's possible after 2 weeks. I criticized other people in the past for saying that too soon, and telling them they couldn't possibly feel that way... And here I am, sure as I am of my own first name that I love him. I don't know how this happened, but there's one thing the two of us agree on; Everything happens for a reason.

May There Be Healing In Your Silence

I called someone I shouldn't have.
I called someone my mother would have been very upset I spoke to after all these years.
I called one more person I had heard her say so many bad things about, in an effort to face the pain I had been unable to let go of.
He reacted much like my father had when cornered- unwilling to say anything unkind about my mother, but unable to accept the responsibility my mother had put on his name behind his back. He didn't call her a liar, nor did he challenge what I said. He simply sounded hurt and mentioned there were problems she hadn't brought to light before, and I was the one to say the word:
Alcoholic.
Why this word was so foreign, and so difficult to say for these men, was completely beyond my comprehension, and I'm still struggling with that part of this.
I have to assume my mother always did the best she could, but that doesn't mean I have to like the choices she made. I've forgiven her in my heart, though I know I will never let her play any real role in my life again. She has not overcome the challenge, because she can't even admit to herself what it is she does. She assuages the guilt by accusing those around her of her own sins. Physical and emotional abuse. Drinking. Driving under the influence. Showing up to work drunk, and/or reeking of alcohol. Various other, smaller, crimes. She hasn't kept a job more than a year in quite some time, and has had a bottle of mouthwash in her car for as long as I can remember. The things she's accused others of are the things no one else can verify. The more I try to recall the events, the less I believe that she knows the difference between her fantasy world and the real world. She's been lying so long that I think she must have begun to believe her own lies at some point. I'm 23, and can't remember a time she didn't drink.
As of Sunday, the 21st, I have been sober 3 months.
I can't believe it's only been three months, but I haven't given up, and don't intend to ever take another drink.
I will not end up like her.
I can not accept that from myself.