|Fantastic Depiction of the Solar System, 19th century|
I'm trying to remember what I wanted to write about today, but I just can't right now. I spent hours today doing virtual teaching, and I am beyond grateful for the precious children I teach and the wonderful folks who run the school and gave me this job. I took a walk through a largely deserted Los Angeles. Every person I passed gave me a wide berth. I love this city.
The POSPOTUS is going to gamble lives for the economy. "The cure is worse than the disease," he says. Meaning money lost is worse than suffering and death.
Everything, I know, is transactional in this culture.
My daughter's life is worth less than yours in the grand scheme of things. If she should get sick and need ventilation, she will be turned away if your "normal" child gets sick and needs ventilation. You know that, don't you? These are transactions that we must accustom ourselves to,
please, fill in the rest of that sentence. After the because.
A child injured or killed by a vaccine injury is a necessary sacrifice for the greater good. Children with disabilities shouldn't get funding for education because it takes away from those who are "normal." My taxes shouldn't go to a lazy ass person using food stamps to get by. If a person can't make it on minimum wage, he should get another job or another or another.
WE CANNOT LET THE CURE BE WORSE THAN THE PROBLEM ITSELF, the Master of Ceremonies said in the dumbed-down string of letters we call language now,
On another note, my ex and his lawyer continue to hound me. Now they want me to go through a job evaluation -- something that will assess my earning capacity and what the hell I've been doing with my time for the last five years. I'd cry but why bother? We're in a pandemic, and life as we've known it goes on. For some.
Being quarantined is a bit like hospital time. It's not really time but time passes. Those of you who've spent lots of time in hospitals might understand this weak attempt to describe it.
On my walk I thought about God and god and religion and those who have faith in plans and order. I thought about absurdity and randomness, about houses made of cards, about human fragility and frailty, about beauty and hope and pure, dumb luck.
I choose to be dogged with not so much hope or faith but a belief in things as they are in the moment and the experience that what comes next is utterly and completely unknown.