Tuesday, November 23, 2010
I was driving to wait my turn in the elementary school pick-up line when a story came on about sea turtles swallowing crude oil in the Gulf of Mexico. The turtles can't taste that the floaties are not jellyfish, and swallow the oil to their detriment. I switched off the radio imagining the carnage, and haven't turned it on since. I realized that I am not impervious to media, but I am significantly more sheltered from it than before. That's why when I heard a group talking about the TSA being a bit too personal in the security line at airports, I knew there must be some news hype about it.
It also sparked my curiosity enough to Google it, and endure the media-induced frenzy on the subject. I have had and intimate pat down while traveling last summer. It did not insight a frenzy in me. It did make me think about why it was okay for a total stranger touched every square inch (or centimeter. I was in Europe.) of my body through my clothes. Up to that point in my life the folks who had touched me like that have M.D. after their name, shared an umbilical cord with me, or are currently married to me. I can now add a female Czech airport security guard to the list.
What was offensive about the encounter was not the woman's hands (okay maybe a little). It is a concession to travel. Couldn't the woman see what a good person I am? Didn't she know that I'm positively more good just by looking at me? I was offended that she couldn't judge by my appearance that I am an upstanding, contributing member of society.
A bad person is bad. They will stand in the security check line at the airport and let the guard pat them down with malice in their heart, and the confidence that they are circumventing the security. If everyone knows they will be strip-searched, x-rayed and hung by their ankles before air travel, the bad guys will do that, and then do the bad thing they intended, despite the safeguards.
Despite my goodness, doesn't the woman running her latex gloved hands all over me know that? It is nearly too simple to understand. Bad people will find ways to do bad things, despite our best efforts, that's what makes them bad.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
I'm trying to be braver about this blogging thing, and actually blog more, as I enjoy it. Though my mind is mush right this moment, and I could tell you that I spaced out on a run and ran more than I meant, to get back to my car, and now have a terrible head ache because I am so distractible while listening to good running music, blah blah blah..... Rather than do all that, I'll post some photos of myself, as this is my blog, I'm a bit loopy, and I can do what I want. I've been told people don't want to read, they just want pictures. So here:
|Looking inebriated at Disneyland|
|As you can see, someone was following me around with the new camera.|
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The irony of Fry's carrying blood pressure machines typifies how I was feeling. This place makes my blood boil with anxiety. I have a huge margin of anxiety before my heart explodes, as my blood pressure is ridiculously low, so don't worry. I was wondering why I didn't want my husband to buy me new speakers in my 17 year old car even though they were broken. The reason is I don't want to go into a shop like this, selling electronics (and Pillow Pets, and thousands of candy bars, and television antenna- do those even work anymore?). More than not wanting to go in, I don't want to spend any money.
When I met my husband we were children, who could know who we would become, or our earning power. In college our earning power, if you could call it that, was $9,000 just 10 years ago (thank you state and federal aid). In college we needed electronic supplies in the form of computer junk. Standing looking at 12 brands of blood pressure takers, I figured it out! I hate this place! I hate it not for itself, but because when my smart, but young husband wanted to buy stuff for our computer in college it seemed like such a waste. We didn't have a cushion to buy 2mb of RAM for $100. I was nervous in those formative years and carry those nerves right into Fry's Electronics in 2010.
What I didn't realize back then, was the time and money that boy spent on electric cables, hard drives, RAM, and more cables was an investment. We didn't starve, and he usually made hand-me-down frankenstein computers anyway, only needing to buy cables. Sometimes investments feel scary, risky and make your blood pressure go up.
Today that boy is a software engineer. The hours he spent with his hands in the guts of a computer is now the very reason I can go to Fry's and afford to buy stereo speakers. The very thing that made me afraid, is paying my rent.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Scout is seven. She is extremely good looking. I don't have the authority to make this sort of judgment as her mother. I can't stop looking at her because I am in love with her, I also believe that she is particularly good looking, despite my bias.
Lately, she can not stand in front of a camera without making some silly face or gesture. In this photo, she is not making a face because she is asleep, it is the only time you can get her NOT to pose. Here she is, lying still for the camera, with a pair of Levi's on her noggin. She went to bed that way. She thought this was worth trying.