You hope somebody will say the word so you don’t have to.

Admitting to it evokes shame, but

~ Why?

You want it so bad, to get it off your chest, let it be expelled through your pores like the sweat you sweat in days you wish were over before they even started. You pray, you beg, you fall into blind despair; you sleep with it and flirt with death. You sigh, cry and expect someone, something ~ anything out there ~ to hear you. Why can someone say it for me? for I cannot form words to express it.

I accept that this is the easiest way out and I am asking for it: I just want somebody to come and set me free.

~ Free from what?

The shame of wanting to say this, the shame from wanting this so much but being incapable of holding it against my prosecutors.

(but, the World is not a temple of doom, there’s nothing wrong with wanting what you want.)

But there is, you see, we were taught it’s wrong to want such splendorous things, such glories if all we wish them for is to make us feel better in our own skin.

~ Says who?

The World, society, gnomes, the United Nations, the birds for all I care.

(but it’s not true), I know. (Then, why shame?) Because what I feel is not guilt. (But why is it so hard to let go of this feeling of shame?) I don’t know. I just don’t know.

So I talk about it without touching the subject. I dance around it without keeping its pace. I flower it and create excuses, I survive around it wandering if life would have turned out any better if I had survived in it but never seem to get an answer… so I don’t question it and don’t entirely suppress it: it dwells in me but its voice is toneless.

And so I remain alive. Still waiting patiently for someone to set me free, just not too sure it will ever truly happen.

On a recent summer sojourn to New York City, Edgar and I decided to tourist it up a bit, so we hopped on a ferry and chugged it out to the Statue of Liberty.  I had been there before, but Edgar hadn’t and though I do think it is something all Americans should see, his adventure was probably somewhat dampened by my continual moans of disappointment in the overly policed process the entire experience has become.  Somewhere along the way, it seems that our national landmarks have morphed into turn-style money makers instead of the revered physical locations of our collective history which they celebrate.

Simply seeing the Statue of Liberty from a vantage point slightly closer than the Battery Park bank, requires a good chuck of cash and a trip through a security circus more stringent than White House screening.  After standing for what seemed like eons in a snaking, winding line underneath dirty white tents, we arrive at the metal detectors only to have Edgar turned away due to his key ring pocket knife.  Upon further inspection, it turns out, he had also brought along another blade, considerably bigger, you know, “just in case”.  So we were given two options: surrender both “knifes” immediately to the NYPD never to be returned (even though one of them was small enough for a cockroach to use as a butter spreader) or go hide them somewhere in Battery Park.  So we chose the latter. Afterall, nothing screams NYC like a 6 inch bowie-knife hiding under a bush.

Finally on the ferry, we cruised through the bay before docking on Liberty Island where we were ushered through yet another security screening in an even dirtier tent.  We were instructed to gulp down any liquids we might have and judging by the torrent of water rushing down the ramp towards us, many people simply dumped their drinks out.  Couple this with the tower of water bottles heaped in the corner, the impression that America left on many of the foreign tourists was undoubtably one of filth.  When we were finally allowed access to the statue, our tickets took us up the winding stairs to the pedestal where we could gaze at the lucky few who were able to afford the crown tickets and had had the fortitude to buy them 5 months in advance.

They have signs around the island explaining that visiting the statue of liberty is actually free and that the ticket prices are simply to cover the ferry boat expenses and such.  However, I would argue that is not the case at all as was evidence by the hundreds of people whose tickets denied them even pedestal access.  So clearly, there is a class system being run at our national monuments, where more money gets you a better experience and exclusive access to something that is, by rights, for all of us.  Needless to say, as I watched hordes of Chinese tourists push past me with their special crown badges swinging about their necks, I took a bitter breath and we bee lined it down to the ferry dock, where the uncrowded and unhurried Ellis Island awaited us.  The rest of the afternoon went off without a hitch, with Edgar even patiently sleeping on a bench while I read every single display at Ellis Island, and when we returned, lo and behold, the knives were there and we went on our merry way, fully armed.

A Call of Revolt

This is my cry! This is my Revolt (for the moment). This is me questioning you. This is me asking you to question me.  This is my stance against what we have become.

I am not typically a political person. I sit on the sidelines. I watch. I flutter around ideas that have beautiful borders—portraits of kindness. I vote because it is my duty. I am proud because it is in my blood. My ancestors lives are interwoven in the history of this nation—they were great people fulfilling great dreams in a land that could make even them look small.

It has come to my attention that we have dishonored them. I am guessing that we have dishonored your people—your history—as well. At what point did we become so complacent? When did we let the fight in each of us go? When did we say that it was okay to be herded—to let another mans thoughts fill our brains and dictate our lives?  That is not the American that I know or that I strive to be.

Our government was built to serve us (yes, us! We lowly people). It was constructed to protect us and to serve us. Hell, it even gave us the right to bare arms so that the common man was never less than anything a government can grow to be. Our nation that was founded on so many lofty ideas has grown weary—it is covered now in bureaucratic red tape. It is dirtied by greed and corruption. It has grown into a great beast that we must protect and serve. It has acquired an appetite for revenue that our small pockets can’t possibly fill.

It enables people to do less with their lives (I took a friends’ unemployment check to the bank to discover that the government pays him more weekly than my bi-monthly check I receive for working full time. Why work when unemployment will offer you greater wages? The common man is crushed by enormous economic woes—homes are foreclosed on—school programs are cut– small business’ fail as large corporations prosper (they have money to endorse politicians, you know?).

Our government has a ticket for everything. We need permits to do anything. And we are taxed again and again.  I am pretty sure that my ancestors left the land of King George for a reason. But somehow, his policies seemed to have followed them here. Just a few hundred years later we have become everything that we set out not to be.

Agree with me or don’t. But raise your own questions and do us all a favor and think for yourself.