Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Saturday, Nov. 23, 2002 - 3:46 p.m.

Ya know, I think back to a day before Republicans and terrorists and Enronesque scandals and wilderness oil drilling and the "power shortage" here in sunny CA, when I was happier, and much less inclined to bitch on a daily basis, and I miss those days. If *I* miss them, I'm sure you, gentle reader, really want them back. Sometimes I wonder if I am an aberration that this stuff bugs me this much. Then I think I can't possibly be, there must be a lot of other people fairly upset with the choices being made by the regime, and not just this one, but the administrations that came before, but screw them, because Clinton was a jerk, but at least he didn't trample over civil rights in some sort of wildly wholesale, giant Costco warehouselike manner. He didn't rape the environment, either, but I don't mean to go down that path today, so I think I'll just stop right there. The point is that a lot more stuff is bugging me than usual these days, and I'm feeling pretty freaking powerless to stop the crushing nazi snowball rolling violently out of control over much of what I hold sacred, and it's scaring the hell out of me.

So I vent. Unfortunately for this situation, I vent publically. And a lot. Which was not my intention when I set out, and is not my intention now.

That's why I like to read diaries by people like Marn and CuppaJoe, Sundry, and yes, even Ms. Smartypants, though her most recent entry kind of annoyed me, because yes, thank you, we ARE planning to move out of this country and to a different one, and yes, it could even end up being Canada, but I kind of doubt it, because (sorry Joe and Marn) Canada is rather a nice place to visit, and you got some good scenery up there, but I do NOT want to live there in the great white cold north, thankyouverymuch. Not just for the cold, either. I just can't see living in Canada. That's like bitching about the neighborhood and then moving across the street and 5 doors down. Although, airfare to see the friends would be a lot cheaper from say, Vancouver or Toronto than it would be from, oh, I don't know, France. Which is my country of choice, but the boyfriend is leaning toward Spain. And it's not just idle chatter, either; I'm just talking about it these days because we just started seriously talking about it, so it's knocking around at the front of my brain. But gee, it may just not meet your timetable, because we have to examine whether or not we can ever afford it in our lifetimes and how to do it. And I can guarantee if the boyfriend scored back the insanely large amount of money that was lost, then yes, we'd be outta here in a red-hot second. I'm not sure that will change, even if the Democrats work a miracle and win back the country in 2 years. Both of us love Europe, and neither of us is all that enchanted with a great deal of the American public, which seems vastly comprised of a great number of sheep. I figure it can't really be, but I don't know how else to explain what's going on here since 9/11/01, and anyway, I'm tired of living with a nation full of spoiled brats, who prefer to insulate themselves completely from the rest of the world, so long as they can still trade with it. Ask any 12 Americans if they know where Guyana is, or what continent Russia is on, and see how many get it right. Pretty pathetic. I'm not talking about giving up my citizenship, but last September changed this country in a way I think isn't entirely evident if you're not living here, and I find the new-yet-not-newness of it unsettling and a little bewildering. Intolerance, rabid patriotism, and the fucking over of your fellow man seem to have leapt to the fore in a way that is amazing until you stop to think about it and realize it was always here, it just finally got the floor.

But again I digress. I do not want to go down the path of negativity today. That way leads to the Dark Side, and damn it, I am actually a good jedi, and that's what I want to put out there. As I was saying, I read Joey and Marn and Sundry and Ms. Smartypants because they make me laugh and remember what it is I like about people and the world. They make me remember the way I used to look at things a lot more often, and that it *is* only life afterall. And it can be damn funny, if you look at it the right way, and that's what I love about being here (alive, on the planet). And - you know - stuff like walking into a ladies' room in the big exec. office building I used to work in and finding a nearly brand new bottle of Heinz Catsup (not ketchup) randomly sitting on the bathroom counter next to the door, right in front of the mirror. I mean, who takes food product into a public bathroom? Or any bathroom, for that matter. And why would you do it? And having carried the giant economy size of condiment in there, how do you then forget you have done so? And once you realize you've forgotten, do you go back for it? It was just odd, people. But then, I realize not everyone has biochemists for uncles and has been told more about the germ factor in a public bathroom than a person could ever want to know. Suffice to say, I do not touch anything extraneous in there, if I can avoid it. Which is just one more anally-retentive thing compelling me to behave in an obsessive-compulsive manner. But again, I digress.

I am thankful and appreciative of people who make me laugh. Who can put things out there that I hear or read and think "yeah, that's IT" and feel there's someone else out there who gets it. That maybe we wouldn't be friends in the real world, because all that crap like personality gets in the way, but at their core, they get a lot of the same things I do, and they're having a similar experience here, whether they're happier or more sad or more fun or whatever than I am. They're looking around and thinking, and they get the whole thing. Even when the aspects of what they see are different, the angle's different, the interpretation is different, the core of the experience is much the same, and I love that. I love those people are out there and drifting into my lane. I have this theory that life is pretty much like rush hour on the interstate. Next time you're in heavy traffic on a highway sometime, think about it. Every car is a separate and compartmentalized life. They can ride along next to each other for a while, but the bottom line is that you're alone in your car, and you are the only person who can experience what's going on inside it or on the road beneath your wheels, and what frame of mind you're in influences the whole damn experience. Sometimes when I'm driving along, I think that's what we must look like from wherever we go when we die: millions of bright lights all travelling along this ribbon in the dusk. I wonder how many ribbons are out there?

Oh, and by the way, you are what you are in your car, so the next time you behave like a jerk to another driver, or are chatting away on your cell phone like you're the only one on the road, take that to heart. Next time you're nice, take that to heart, too. I zip thru yellow lights all too often. Sorry to all you people waiting to make left turns. I'll work on that, 'kay?

Peace out,
Katie

ps. In writing my description and using the phrase "publically peeved," I remembered this tongue twister I came up with on the way to class Thursday..."public pupil purple pubic". Try saying that fast many times in a row. (don't ask; I do *not* know)

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