The News is Bad For Your Health

Damn it. My blood pressure is rising! I know that it is probably in the interest of my mental health and well-being to stop reading the news in the morning when I am opening at work, but I can't seem to help it. It's a little ritual I afford myself to be in the know since I don't have cable or Internet at home. I try to read a variety of sources, both local, national, international and non-English. The local ones get to me the most because I tend to read the comment sections. I really, really need to stop doing that!


Anyway, one of the big stories of this week is the proposed ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) facility to be opened in downtown Portland, near the university and OHSU. First off, let me just say, if you are a POC like me, don't read the damn comment sections about this news article. The point is though, the news is bad for your health. Everyone has an opinion about news articles, and many of them are nasty when it comes to immigration. Racists. Yeah, that's the word of the day...and don't try to call it something else.


I am definitely not for this facility to be opened up, because I am pro-immigrant and pro-America (the ICE is contrary to American beliefs and ideals!) but also because it will change the face of Portland. What happened to the Portland I moved to years ago? Yeah, there's a lot of racial problems here, little racial diversity...but for the most part we all got along. I feel that the opening of an ICE facility will further damage this city. We're supposed to be "progressive" here, so why are all these local anti-immigrant (racists) folks on the net applauding the idea of an ICE facility in Portland to round up "illegals"?


Where is my blood pressure medication!?

Is Your Speech Really Free?

It disturbs me deeply that I live in a country where hate speech (racist, homophobic, sexist etc.) is protected under a "Constitution" as "free speech" and yet decrying a corrupt politician or inhumane corporations is considered, legally, a criminal action.

Slam this (My Bliss)

Who the fuck am I?

I don’t know who I am anymore, this pale ugly stranger

Beady eyes inflamed with a fire nothing can quench

My thirst is eternal like the g-ddamn sun that

Doesn’t boil my fallow skin to beautiful brown like

Days past with seagulls, pelicans and tropical terns flying LOW the planes, the planes are getting closer everyday driving me mad like a horsefly ramming itself against unyielding greasy glass SHATTERING all over the wall after I throw the bottle in a fit of childish yet adult frenzy, FRIENDS where are you other than slipping away and I can’t remember how your voice sounds anymore its been so long yet only as if it were yesterday why haven’t you called I changed my number make a fucking effort because I am worth a damn

DAMN.

I am worth a damn so why do I leave them to rape me everyday?

I am losing my face speaking without accents not speaking in tongues you can understand, you sientes lo que digo? my people where are my people you are NOT my people who the fuck are my people? My people wouldn’t rape me, hate me, snub me, and cut me down to size WHAT the hell is this hi how are you HOW can I transfer your CALL my mother to explain but I can’t speak she don’t get it anymore ANYWAY my throat is caught in they dicks as they…      

Again and again and again.

Again when, when will I be beautiful inside? He reminds me to live instead of die.

I’ve been dying since I turned fifteen, turning green and rotting away from the soul but this boy he gave me my goal to be alive to stay afloat because g-d knows its easier to choke.

So choke on this.            

Choke on my bliss.

Damn.

I am worth a damn.

Yes,

M’am.

How can I help you today?

A small pleasure

A few weeks ago near the end of July, I had a great interaction over text-message with a complete stranger. It's little moments like these that really make my day and give back a modicum of my faith in humankind.


The conversation goes as follows:
-"I don't know if you'll get this but would like to give you a chance to see sarah before she goes. My place sun /731-2pm or come for informal lunch on mon 8/1?"
-"Is this megan?"
-"Sorry. It's savannah. Is this heather?"
-"No sorry you have the wrong number. I am a dude."
-"Sorry. Have a good weekend!"
-"No worries! You too!"
-"Thanks :)"

Super-powers would probably actually suck

Have you ever had one of those days when you wished you had super-powers? Mine would either be telekinesis or control over elements. Lindsey and I already joke that we can see into other people's souls. Not that it's really a joke though...we can. The problem with these hypothetical super-powers is that we, as partial and emotional beings would be unable to control them. I know that myself especially. How many times have we wished as children (and even adults) that we had the ability to magickally destroy, change or affect something?

This also comes at a time when I've begun to read Leslie Marmon Silko's Almanac of the Dead again. It's one of those books that makes White people sick. No wonder it wasn't as wildly popular as her first book, Ceremony. (In fact it was highly criticized. I wonder how many of her original readers were White? But that's another story...) Silko describes the main character's meeting with a Yupik (Eskimo) woman who can create electromagnetic energy surges to bring planes down with sheer will. Wouldn't that be awesome/dangerous? When reading this section, it made me a little excited but also a little sick.

I know that if I could, I would retaliate against those people with bad souls who try to hurt others. I would probably get carried away. I find that within myself are the seeds of destruction sometimes. However I try to remember that within that destruction comes rebirth.

Besides, if we were meant to have such incredible powers we would have already evolved with them. Or whatever.

If you could have any 'super-power', what would it be? Would you be able to control it/yourself?

(photo copywrited to Comics Alliance - thanks y'all!)

Porklandia Fuck-off Day

I am just scared that this is life now. That it is always going to be this way.
I hate my job, let's be honest. It's not the actual work persay I'm not as arrogant as to complain about that. It's my coworkers sometimes, bureaucracy most of the time, but mostly this unshakeable idea that this is gonna be as good as it gets. Working some brainless front desk gig with no benefits and I sure as hell won't see any Medicare or Social Security...if I even live that long. It's hard to be positive in these times. I have damn Bachelors Degree! That was supposed to mean something!

I want to get out of this country. This morning, on my way to work, a guy ran right into be because he was trying to get on the train in time. He shoved me. Fucking shoved me. Not even out of the way, just directly in the chest. Not even an "excuse me".Today is definitely an I-Hate-Portland day. We live in a country (and me in a city) that overworks us to death so that we shove people out of the way in an effort to succeed at arriving. Arriving to what? Another crappy low-paid job with no benefits. We've been brainwashed to think we've got it good as our government continues to take away our money, our rights, our lives.

What will be left?

A song for us.

"Who are you to say that?"

Me?

Who the fuck am I?

I am the words people are afraid to say.

I am the song in the wind.

I am the rage in our hearts.

I am la voix que ouvre les yeux.

I am the bullet that cannot be stopped.

I am breaking glass.

I am tears in the eyes of children.

Je suis tout ce qui a été victime d'intimidation.

So, dix-moi.

Who the fuck are you?