the high road

on my facebook page today, i posted a picture of sarah palin all dolled up in the joker makeup with a big fat FASCIST sign underneath. personally, i found the image hilarious. i laughed out loud for at least three minutes before giving way to the inevitable. oh i knew then that it would spawn some controversy, because quite frankly, it's an offensive image. and the reason i think it's offensive is because i was offended when it was president obama's face in that paint above a SOCIALIST tag. but you know what? i don't give a shit anymore. i've sat back, i've tried to be nice, i've tried to reach people through channels of reason and intellect. i think. i dig policy. i like to know what i'm talking about before a go off spewing some nonsense about isms i don't have a blues clue what the fuck i'm talking about (see morons accusing the potus of being a socialist who have no fucking idea what 'socialism' even means*). but you know where the high road leads? to a really high cliff, the precipice of which we liberals fall really hard, right on our faces. and you know why? because the wing nuts on the right play dirty. mostly because they're too dumb to try to play straight with the smarter, more educated, more wordly liberals. and we're never going to win a war of reason with people who don't have any fucking capacity to comprehend anything beyond immediate emotional impact. and so, i'm gonna pounce upon the sage advice of the proverb that claims, 'if you can't beat them, join them'. and whilst i will not be joining the dummies' ideology, i will be taking on their weaponry, because bringing knives to gun fights hasn't won us many battles. and i'm in this to win the war. so from here on out, i'm in the trenches, pulling, slinging, and flinging mud. because the sad state of the truth is that the intellect of the american people is so sadly downtrodden that i've no choice but to stoop to a discourse so low as to be able to connect with something americans can respond to: filthy, truth-bending rhetoric of the highly emotional and offensive sort. it makes no sense. but i'm done with trying to make sense with people who have none. ~k * socialism: a theory or system of social organization that advocates the vesting of the ownership and control of the means of production and distribution, of capital, land, etc., in the community as a whole.

a prophecy unrealized

the dictionary defines fate as:

1. something that unavoidably befalls a person; fortune; lot.
2. the universal principle or ultimate agency by which the order of things is presumably prescribed; the decreed cause of events; time.
3. that which is inevitably predetermined; destiny.
4. a prophetic declaration of what must be.

fate is one of the most often pondered questions of my life. it's the theme of my first novel, the source of my fascination with religion, and my biggest draw to LOST.

i long ago gave up a belief in coincidence, choosing instead to find the serendipitous miracle in what others view as mere chance. i'm not wired to believe in mere chance. and i'm grateful for that, because having eyes that see miracles every day means i can and do appreciate the little things.

but it doesn't mean i don't think about it, wonder about the role of fate in our lives, and how much choice we have. i can't not believe we don't make choices, because my life has been defined by one hard fought choice after another. but i also believe i have been guided by something powerful that i've chosen to follow, something others choose to ignore. i believe in the infinite power of me, that i'm limited only by the diminutive confines of my imagination, and that i can be all that i can imagine, and i listen to that voice in my head that says, "yes you can".

and i believe all of this because i believe the universe and i have a great relationship, that we conspire for and with one another, because our conspiracy makes the world a better place. and that "coincidences" (things like randomly bumping into an old friend in an off-beat watering hole in san francisco, being sent to bar hemingway by my pitafo, or meeting someone for the first time you just know - somewhere in the pit of your gut - you've somewhere or somehow known before) are signs, pointing us in the right direction.

miracles, if you will.

and though my story has only really just begun to be written, with an end i've no doubt can be found somewhere in the stars, it will only be as extraordinary as the choices i make each day to follow or ignore those little miracles the universe conspires to share.

~k

the haunting

i was terrorized last night by nightmares. all night. a dozen times i woke up in cold, screaming sweats, only to fall back to sleep and right back into the horror i was attempting to escape. though the specifics have escaped my memory, i do recall a change of pace from my typical freddy krueger chasing.

and then i woke up, pried by jaws apart, and found a throat so sore i could barely breathe. then spent the morning coughing up some gnarly shit, whilst sipping on tea and sopping up my sweaty forehead.

and the worst part is that i'm alone. and no one but me is here to feel sorry for me :(

~k