posted on March 21, 2003 @ 6:11 pm
this morning, i woke up at 10:30. i checked the progress of my song downloads (still "more sources needed," argh), found my glasses, put on my purple cords, and stumbled into the kitchen.
i greeted my kitties and gave them food and water. i poured a glass of tea. i thought, it's almost 11. jerry springer comes on then! i remembered it was not on fox (the only station that tv gets relatively clearly), so i figured i'd just watch court tv or whatever was on.
i turned on my television, turned off the vcr, found fox. war stuff. :weakly: hooray. i return to the kitchen to make some pancakes.
i take my delicious pancakes (with only butter, no syrup), tea, and kitties and plop onto my futon in front of the television. they're showing a night vision shot of baghdad. it's 8:00 p.m. over there. the good shows would be just coming on. i'm sure they have nothing but war, too, however.
i watch, i listen, like a good consumer monkey, then someone interrupts someone else to say one can hear bombs exploding in the distance. my fork tips onto my pancakes as my fingers lose grip. they decide to stop talking and let us eager, safe citizins tune in to baghdad's nightmare.
explosions. gunfire. bursts of light in the green city.
the anchormen suddenly begin speaking again, and i'm catapulted back onto earth, back to my futon, to my kitties trying to eat my pancakes. my breathing's heavy, my plate tilts, threatening to spill my pancakes into my lap, and there are tears streaming down my face.
the anchorman asks, "are massive civilian casualites expected?" a general answers, "well, as we like to say, 'not as many as the last time.' there were only 1,000 during the previous attack..." his voice trails off as i try to imagine a heap of 1,000 dead women, men, and children. who just that morning awoke, made their breakfast, sat down to catch the news on the war.
i return to my room, get dressed from the waist up, brush my teeth, put on make-up, turn off my computer, staple my homework (i made a note of it on my hand when i couldn't find the stapler last night). don my hoodie, gather my purse, backpack, keys. tell tima and janeane good-bye, walk to my car.
on my way to school, listening to dempsy and smoking cigarettes, i take note of the number of cars on the interstate, the frontage roads, the neighborhood streets, and then i think back to the footage of the deserted highway in baghdad. not one car, and it was 8:00 p.m. in a city with a once population of five million; millions of people have fled, the ones who could afford it.
the rest are left waiting, frightened, as we go about our lives. find a great parking spot in the garage, learn you did your grammar homework flawlessly in only 15 minutes at 3:00 a.m., listen to your grammar teacher reviewing you for your test, mutter about the traffic, give your kitties a hug when you get home, go to the grocery store with your roommate, have some delicious (even when uncooked) garlic bread when you get home.
they don't have this. they don't have this care-free life.
and i hate every person in washington who took that away for them.
bAM564: yay for war
bAM564: yay for war
bAM564: joseph says sssssssssssssss
bAM564: we hissed at liberals