My little rant

Ok. So I saw a woman (refraining from calling her a fat bitch, simply to be the bigger person) in a store today. This woman (who, I might add, was with a man with a mullet and John Deere hat, am I painting a clear picture here?) was wearing a tee shirt with a huge picture of the Confederate battle flag on the back, and it said, "If this flag offends you, you need a history lesson." So I'm thinking to myself, ok. I majored in history, I'll give you a history lesson. So here it is, and if that fat bitch should happen upon this humble page, read and listen, cause regardless of what your shirt says, YOU need an ACTUAL history lesson:

What is today commonly known as the Confederate Flag, or Stars and Bars, was actually, during the American Civil War, known as the Flag of the Army of Northern Virginia, or Beauregard's flag, and was never an official symbol of the Confederate States of America as they existed during the 1860's. The Stars and Bars was a rallying flag, it was created to allow Generals and other officers a clearer view of how their troops were performing on the field. The men who followed this flag, the men who loved this flag, were usually poor farmers and honest men, most of whom had likely never seen an African American person, and who merely fought for their country. Yes, this flag had an honest beginning. I am well aware that at the outbreak of the Civil War, a mere 5% of the population of the states that seceded owned slaves. I am well aware that the average southerner at the outbreak of the war took up arms against the north because they saw them as merely an invading army, coming down and burning their farms and destroying their lively-hoods. I am well aware of how many honest, hardworking, non-slave-owning American men, North and South, laid down their lives for their country, and what this flag meant to them. However, Fat-Bitch-In-The-Store, you got a partial picture of the representation of that flag.

This is where you need a REAL history lesson. It has been 140 years since the end of the war, and since then, the flag you are so proudly wearing on your back has been put to new purposes. It WAS flown by KKK members as they lynched innocent people. It WAS flown over burning crosses. It WAS flown as African Americans were denied education. It WAS the symbol of Jim Crowe. It WAS flown by Neo-Nazis, probably as recently as yesterday. Before you go around stating that people need a history lesson, perhaps you should have one. Hey guess what? We're now in the 21st century, not the 19th!

It burns my ass, it really does, how ignorant people can be. That statement, that I need a history lesson, well, I don't know how to describe how angry it makes me. If you have the nerve to wear that shit in public... Well, I truly don't know what to say to you. I am honestly ASHAMED to be the same race that you are. But I guess there is trash in every race. And you, honey? You are trash, plain and simple. It burns my ass that the public school here actually uses that flag as it's mascot, here in the 21st century. I see it daily, and though I am well educated, and I know the beginnings of that flag, and respect the men who originally loved it, it chaps my ass to see it. It makes me so sad. I can't imagine being a teenage African American student, and having to see that reminded of such hatred every day. Believe-you-me, when I have kids, they are SO not going to that school!

Anyway, Fat-Redneck-Bitch-in-the-Store, you might wanna drop some weight. It can be very damaging to your heart, and I'd love to see what would happen if you had a heart attack wearing that lovely shirt of yours... Cause I know for a fact that the top heart specialist in the area just happens to be an African American man...

Time

So 2007 is about to end. Time moves so fast, I can barely get my head around it. It seems like just yesterday I was being sneaked in to a 21+ club with the help of my best friend and a huge, burly, tattoo covered bouncer named Butterfly. And actually sleeping in a car in Time Square. Now here I am, almost thirty... What the hell happened?

Now I'm here, thinking about the things that made a big impact on my life and realizing just how long ago they happened. Challenger blew up 23 years ago. The Berlin Wall fell 18 years ago. The LA Riots were 15 years ago. September 11th was six years ago. Kinda makes you think...

I can't believe I'm going to be thirty. I feel like I'm twelve.

Holidays Suck

Apparently, I am a collector of souls, at least that was what I was jokingly called last night... Hmmm... Should I be insulted? Is it right that I was called this by someone so close? Or is it a compliment? Someone once told me that there is a grain of truth in every joke, so I'm really not sure. Does this mean that somewhere, in my mess of a house, I have a cardboard box full of souls? Maybe I should take them out and put them on the fridge...

I know that I am not the best person in the world, but at least I try. I can be a pretty shitty friend at times, I can be fairly self-absorbed. I'm not good at using the phone, I'm really not. So now you know. Sometimes, I'm just not willing to put up with drama. So, I'm sorry. Sometimes, I just can't be bothered to sit and listen for four hours about some random, passing comment that you're "man of the hour" made over the phone, and debate the comment's meaning. I just don't wanna. You take everything just a little too seriously. But I know that even if you read this, you won't know who I am... But sometimes you make me wonder if I have your soul in my collection...

Is it just me, or do the holidays suck big time? I'm starting this blog because I get so depressed around Christmas, and if maybe I can get it all out on here, my friends and family won't have to suffer it. This will be the fourth Christmas without my dad. And that really, really, really bites. Sometimes, I can't believe he's gone, still, after all this time. Something funny will happen, and I'll think to myself, "shit, I can't wait to call Dad and tell him," and then I remember, and feel bad for almost forgetting for a moment. This Thanksgiving, I forgot for a while that he wasn't there. And let me tell you, when I remembered what I had forgotten, I lost it. And the nightmares, that I had been successful in repressing for about five months, well, they started coming back. But then there are other times, times when I worry that I am so upset over it, that I will forget to live. And I want to live, and be happy, and have fun.