The Social Porcupine

Dear Mr. President by Pink The song lyrics are in italics, and my comments are in bold font. This is a song written to George W. Bush, but people are starting to say it relates to Trump too. I don't really care who the song is about. Even if it were about James Madison or Barack Obama I'd be saying all the following: this song is stupid.  Dear Mr. President  Come take a walk with me  Let's pretend we're just two people and  You're not better than me  Ahhh. Please. The president isn't some god or king. What a cringy way to start out an otherwise completely cringy song.  I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly  What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?  Hmm. What do you feel? You do know that the president isn't responsible for people's life choices any more than you are. And, yes, some people choose to be homeless. Yes, this doesn't negate the fact that God told us to love and

I never shared about three of my favorite travels when in Germany. Not because I didn't wish to, but because I wasn't sure how to. My brain was so full of so many thoughts. I was challenged, inspired, stretched. I'm still not sure I can do justice to it all. But I shall try. The first of the three was one weekend when my Au Pair father took me and the baby to Munich.  Plants hanging from the ceiling with lights in Munich. First, we went to the university and saw a memorial for the Weisse Rose (White Rose) a group of non-violent intellectuals and artists who resisted Hitler's Third Reich. I had heard of them before and would love to study more about them, especially some of the women involved: women who gave their lives to show their love for the good and true things. There are those who refrain from admiring good women doing extraordinary things because of feminists saying, "We need more women doing men's jobs." We do not need more women

The mother of my au pair family has a sister about my age. Mid-December she came for a visit and asked me a question before she left. I understood only some of the words. Möchtest du. Cousine. Feiern. Basically, I was being invited to go to a party with her and her cousin for Christmas. And they knew absolutely no details, not even the time. But, the idea of getting out and spending time with people my age was appealing. Plus, she seemed like a nice person. So I said, "Yes." I mean, I've been to many, many parties. So why should I have worried? On the day of, I was asked if I drink. I said no.  "Great! You can be the designated driver."  I was fine with that. Some people might be bothered hanging out with others that drink, but I'm afraid I've become "desensitized" to that long ago. Personally, I don't see the pull, but if others want it they can have it. And if they are going to have it I'd much rather be the one beh

Increasingly, we are being forced to recognize the reality and repercussions of where this lockdown is leading us nationally, and even globally. In the name of “voluntary caution” we’ve hidden in our homes, striving to save our own necks or the necks of those we love. But the morning is rising, and when we throw away our masks, what will we see but that we have slit every other man’s neck only to still find blood on our own? For without the sweat of toil, every man is doomed to bleed. Self-preservation is worthless at the feet of paranoia. To speak of the economy has become as distasteful as the topic of politics; as if economics' sole weight is money—pure gold wrought from greed out of the depths of Ayn Rand’s philosophy of selfishness. But just as politics can not be simplified to mean “shady business”, neither can one say that those who care about the future of humanity do not love those who are currently suffering. And yet … because of the fear of death, we have force

"What's the worst thing that they can say?" People say this to us all the time when we're hesitating. And we laugh at our own fear. No is such a tiny word. Not asking guarantees "No." Asking gives the possibility and hope of, "Yes." And that's why, usually, we go ahead and ask. "What's the worst thing that they can say?" But what of the times when it's no trivial matter you're pursuing? Or when you know that maybe you ought to ask, but when and how? What when receiving a no leaves you devasted, dejected, despairing? What if no is the worst thing you could hear? I'm not talking of not being able to find toilet paper, but of being stuck in that dark hallway with every door slammed in your face. Nowhere to go, and no reason to live. How do you live in the midst of a broken heart when you knew that was the person for you? How do you live when people tell you your dreams are trash when you are sure they are not