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Monthly Archives: July 2007

On Saturday, I saw Pete Stark. I can tell you, those of you who now feel guilty about not going, you didn’t miss much. The important bits: he’s very optimistic about getting Healthy Kids renewed, and he’s hopeful about getting universal health care through next session. The rest, well, let’s just say I can’t stand people who pay attention to politics, but don’t pay enough attention to politics to form truly informed opinions. All the idiotic Impeach Bush people showed up, basically. Fucking dinglenuts. My mom and I had to buy Tucker’s ice cream to get over it.

So I rented two movies this weekend. The first was The Last King of Scotland. I thought I knew what they meant when I heard “horribly cruel dictator”, but I don’t think I really did. Absolutely do not watch it unless you think your stomach is at least as strong as mine. It gave me a nightmare that night. There was this one scene where there was a person… but it was so grotesque and disgusting, I couldn’t even comprehend it, I was so horrified, and so I asked aloud, “what is WRONG with her?”; my brother, who had much more presence of mind than I, immediately answered, “they sewed her arms where her legs should be.” He didn’t need to add “and vice versa.” So the only thing I remember from the nightmare is that I heard screams and so I ran toward the room that was in the movie and the screams stopped right before I got there and the guy I like was lying on the table with his arms and legs sewn in switched places, dead; and then there was Forest Whitaker’s Idi Amin laughing at me, and then I woke up. That was Saturday night.

Then Sunday came, and I went to church and told Bernie I was sorry about Harriet, and I was glad that BM wasn’t there, because I wouldn’t know what to do. (BM is what I’m calling her now. Don’t ask what it stands for, it stands for one thing for me, another for you.) The rest of her family was there, but she wasn’t. Maybe that’s nothing, but on the other hand, maybe it’s something. I suppose I’ll have to see her in September when we get back to school, but God knows I’d like to avoid her as much as possible. Oh, and just for the record:

The Catholic church has long recognized someone called the accidental Christian. The accidental Christian lives his/her life in the Christian spirit, doing good works, showing compassion, and in general being a benevolent presence in this world; and yet, they deny Christianity. They still go to heaven, by the way. Of course the only Protestants capable of the same idea are the Anglicans/Episcopalians, because everybody else is descended from Lutheranism, and one of the main tenets of Lutheranism is justification by faith alone, which means you have to have faith, otherwise you got nothing going for you. Anyway…

So yeah, the rest of Sunday. After mass, we went to visit my grandma, and we talked about Steve, and a few other things. We then drove to El Cerrito to see my Aunt Avilee and Uncle Daniel. We looked around the garden, which is quite nice but of course my mom and her sister have a lot more to talk about plants than I can say, since their father knew just about everything there was to know about plants and they both like to garden and they could tell each other how not to kill begonias with too much water and whatnot. So then we went in and drank this really cool instant peach ice tea, which I didn’t really know you could make ice tea without making hot tea first, but hey, whatever. And we were sitting around talking about stuff, and first it was fine because we were just talking about mitochondrial DNA, which is a fascinating topic that everybody knew a lot about. But then we got into the Green Revolution and the IMF which I didn’t know anything about, but my uncle was complaining about it, and my mom just hammered him. In the car, she said, “I guess he forgot I majored in that in college.” I didn’t really get why my mother has always had a hard time getting along with Daniel until he retired. Then he kinda became one of those nutcases that you get when you have somebody who listens to KPFA all day and reads the Nation as a supplement. They kinda get out of touch with rational thinking and think that everybody must think like they do because it seems like a normal way to think and that since they’re the “majority”, that politicians must all be evil because they don’t “represent” their constituents. Fact is, politicians have a lot of constituents, and it’s damn hard to get legislation through Congress, let alone through an oxheaded president’s office. I’ve concluded from my father’s testimony that the fairly moderate Daniel that I knew for most of my childhood was actually not normal for Daniel, he was like this before he worked for Bröderbund. Which explains why he drives my mother up the wall. Anyway…

… the second movie I rented was Todo Sobre Mi Madre, an Almódovar movie. It was in Spanish with English subtitles, and I tried to understand most of the Spanish, but I gave up after about 10 minutes because they didn’t teach us many cuss words in school and most of the movie was cussing and slang. It was a great movie. It didn’t seem like it was going to be happy, but somehow, I was really satisfied with the ending and was alright with the death throughout. I’m sure Mr. Martin would like it because it had symbolism and foreshadowing all over it. I think the best person to listen to in the movie is Agrado. She’s a transexual prostitute, but she’s perfectly happy to be a transexual prostitute. And she has the best line in the movie, which is up there ^. So now my mission is to see all the Almódovar movies I can get my hands on. I just rented Bad Education, so I’m well on my way. I’ll put a checklist/review-y thing up here somewhere I think. Maybe I’ll put one up for Miyazakis too, while I’m at it. We’ll see.

Anyway, yesterday, I went to the library café to work as usual, except this time Barbara needed to pick up her daughter and her friends during our shift, so I was like, it’s fine, go ahead. And while she was gone Ms. Guerra came in with this really cute guy, and she was tutoring him. Seriously, he was cute. He had kinda too long of hair, but he was pretty hunky, and he didn’t look femme or whatever with it. Unfortunately, he was also getting tutored on Spanish II, which means that he’s either too young for me, not all that smart, a REALLY big slacker, or (muy improbable) he started in another language and didn’t like it and switched so he’s behind. Well, a girl can dream, right…?

So after that I went to lunch with TF. He had to give me an assignment, so we got burritos after discussing the large amount of emergency vehicles and investigating same, and we went to Peet’s to eat our burritos. And it all seemed kinda awkward to me. Maybe it was because I kinda blew up at him AIM the night before and I was going to tell him that it was alright I didn’t really mean it I got over it blah blah blah but I forgot. Maybe I was distracted by the fact that he fidgets. Majorly. But maybe that was because of the awkwardness. Oh dear this is quite circular. Well I hope he knows I didn’t mean to blow up at him. Well whatever. He’s not back until August, when I’m gone. So yeah. That’s pretty much it.

I felt like the circumstances merit some kind of response.

Vanessa, you are like a sister to me. I love you for who you were: idealistic, optimistic, curious, innocent, smart, funny, totally unlike anybody else. You always were so open-minded and you always wanted to find out about new ideas. You wanted the answers to all the questions. You were a seeker: not earth-bound, always reaching for the stars.

You are still that person, but you are covering her up. You think you have found all the answers; whereas in the old days, our conversations about philosophical topics were about finding the best answer to the problem, they are now about you trying to get me to see your answer as being right. I hope your current beliefs help you through Harriet’s illness, because I know you must need something. However, I cannot listen to you tell me about your beliefs. You sound like a Christian fundamentalist ad imitating the way Vanessa talks, and it breaks my heart. I love you because you’re inquisitive and interesting and different, not because you’re the same. I can’t read the things you say without crying. What happened to you? You are such a beautiful person underneath this horrible and hateful veneer.

God’s love is unconditional, just like mine for you. I still love you even though I won’t let you talk to me. I do have to think of myself sometimes. I cannot let you make me cry so much that I forget that I have to be here, I have to donate my talents to the world, I have to keep going. I cannot lie useless in the gutters of San Francisco, drinking liquor out of a bag, but that’s what I really feel like doing whenever you say those horrible things. And I tell you this: God may or may not frown on anal sex, but hurting people the way you have been doing cannot bring him joy. God loves everybody. God only puts people in hell when he cannot bear to see them in heaven, because they are the people who failed him. Adolf Hitler, despite being a firm believer in Christ, is nevertheless in hell, because God cannot bear the sight of him, because God gave him so many chances to redeem himself in His eyes, and each time he chose evil over good. Contrary to popular belief, God does not think you’ve turned your back on Him if you don’t believe in Him; this is merely like a child yelling “You don’t understand me!!! I HATE YOU!!!” Yes, it is hurtful; but what parent would throw their child out on the street for such an outburst? No parent of mine. Parents realize that the children who claim to hate them still need their presence and guidance. Even children who grow up and tell their parents they no longer need them still do. Every person on this Earth is necessary until they die, because when you die, you have done everything He needed you to do. Death is the collective price we pay for being so selfish as to believe one life is worth more than any other. Someone’s being innocent doesn’t make their life worth any more than a convicted murderer. If you’re in a burning building, the reasons you save the baby and not the murderer are 1) your chances of getting the baby out alive are much greater than getting the murderer out, due to their relative sizes and 2) the murderer could be a danger to society, and the baby has the potential to be the greatest leader society has ever seen.

Only the good die young because the evil have to be given chance after chance to redeem themselves. God does not give up on people easily. He wants them to redeem themselves, He wants them to become good, He does not want to let them burn in hell because that pains Him. After so many chances, though, He has to give up on them. Everyone else dies when they are done with their contributions to better this world. I developed this theory after Molly told me about her visits to her grandmother Ann, who has Alzheimer’s. She said, “It’s actually better now that she doesn’t know me, because she doesn’t remember what she can say that will make me cry, and she’s always been so nice to ‘new people.'” Sad as that is, it is probably the best way for her to go, with happy memories for those closest to her, the same people she hurt the most. I thought that this is Ann’s final chance, her chance for her descendants to forgive her. My theory also made sense when I considered my second funeral. Eric Lyons was his name. For a couple years, I thought for certain he was Jesus come again, because he was so much nicer than everyone else, he always shared, his parents were some of the most virtuous people I’ve ever known, he just seemed perfect. Which explains why he died so young: he was so good he only needed to live seven years to influence the lives of everyone who knew him more than we can possibly imagine.

I have conflicting feelings on what I hope for you. If you can be happy with your current beliefs, than I congratulate you for finding the answers to your questions, and I hope you live long and well and don’t let anyone hurt you just because they think you’re wrong- but you certainly don’t need me in order to do that, and therefore I need you to leave me alone, because otherwise I might never move on. But, what if you can’t be happy with the answers you’ve found? What if you have doubts? I am always here if you NEED me, but I am not here if all you want is to agree with you. If you can find a way to talk to me without making me feel like I’m being kneed in the stomach over and over again, you may do so. But I do have to protect myself because the world needs my God-given talents, so don’t try unless you’re absolutely sure.