Why does everyone hate us?

George W. Bush came into office bound and determined not to ask the American people to do anything hard when it came to energy. On May 7, 2001, then White House spokesman Ari Fleischer was asked the following question at the daily press briefing: “Does the President believe that, given the amount of energy Americans consume per capita — how much it exceeds any other citizens in any other country in the world — does the President believe we need to correct our lifestyles to address the energy problem?”

Fleischer responded: “That’s a big no. The President believes that it’s an American way of life, and that it should be the goal of policy makers to protect the American way of life. The American way of life is a blessed one.”

– From Hot, Flat, and Crowded by Thomas L. Friedman.

Why I can’t focus.

I suppose this is something most people have to deal with in a lifetime. Dad’s in the hospital, and though I know it’s a fairly common condition that can be maintained over time, it’s the first time he’s ever been sick — like really, white-coat, IV-drip, in a lonely bed sick. He’s my Dad. He’s my everything, my how-to-cast-a-rod to my how-to-never-give-a-shit-about-the-tough-stuff. He’s got the highest pedestal in my heart, and he’s got a number of blood issues in his. So now my comfort, my rock, my guide, is confined and vulnerable and alone, and he just wants to go home. And I just want to go home.

Growing up can really, really suck sometimes.

The only film I can’t find on IMDB.

This is something I wrote when I was sitting alone in my apartment on a Saturday night…not sure when, I didn’t make note. But I figured I’d throw it out into the mystic to see what happens…and to prove I’m still around. And prove to myself I’m still capable of writing, albeit pointless & scattered.

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Since probably the age at which I could conceptualize such complex matters, I’ve envisioned my life as a movie. Not as “who would play me in the movie about your life?” kind of way (Rosie O’Donnell, probably), but more Truman Show vein…people can view, through some intricately designed and cleverly placed cameras, all aspects of my mundane, everyday life. Except, of course, parts I wanted no one to see. Even during those periods, someone could still see what was going on – and he or she was judging.

So often, I would consciously conduct myself in the manner of movie actors I’d seen. I’d think of camera angles (“What if in this shot, the audience can only see my hands?”) and then try to accommodate accordingly to give ‘my people’ a chance to see who I really was. I’d put on my watch with the snap-on faces, and switch from red & white hearts to rainbow stripes. I’d take an old No Doubt CD and feed it to my stereo, closely examining my chipped nail polish as I pressed the button to skip to Track 4. What does this half-gone Cool Blue Reason from Claire’s say about me?