A Duet

I keep hearing strange things in my room when I'm on that rift between consciousness and sleep. I think there might be a ghost in here. *shrug* It's honestly kind of creepy, but I'm so tired by that time that I don't care. Then there's the dreams. Weird dreams, too. If I believed in God, I'd say that he or she is trying to tell me something. Then again, if I believed in God, I'd also be more likely to have voted for John McCain and for Prop 8, so... nah.

There's something that I really have to criticize today. Welfare, health care, the like. So I'm sitting in the car, discussing le recent situation con mi madre (see previous post), and she says, "I'm getting on MediCal soon. You should get a new pair of glasses; they're completely covered." And for a minute I consider and nod in affirmation, feeling that it'd be nice... until I realize that I have a pair sitting on the bridge of my nose, and they already feel so a part of me that I can hardly see without them. So I ask myself... "What the hell?" A new pair of glasses could cost 200 dollars, and that's if I'm being picky about the price. Why the hell would I get a new pair, regardless of who's paying for it? "It comes out of the tax money I've been paying for 20 years." Screw your tax money; you evaded paying it for three years of my life, remember?

That money wouldn't be coming from my mother's taxes for the past twenty years; it'd be coming out of every person in America's tax money for the past year. The past botched up year. The past year that she keeps complaining about when it really wasn't that damn bad for us. I don't care what she says. I don't care if the freakin' glasses are bloody covered. Those 200 dollars don't belong to me. They belong to somebody else. Somebody who needs it more. THIS is part of why America's in the hole right now. THIS is what people meant by taking advantage of insurance. I don't care how much the government rips us off; when we try to take back, we don't take from THEM, we take from someone else. Sure, that someone else might be taking advantage just the same, or they might not even need it, but even the most infinitesimal percentile of what you don't use goes somewhere good.

Goodness gracious.

My fellow blogger who has spurred me into this spree of blogging has me thinking again. About the past. About the present. About what could be different. The pain that I felt was derived from hope- the hope that things could be right again. I haven't felt that pain in six months, but it's here again like a hangnail.

I went to my happy place today, as I sometimes do when my brain is clouded in a mist of negativity. Allow me to describe it, in detail. More than often, I am laying somewhere- a beach or a meadow of tall grass. There's always a light breeze; the kind that I enjoy. Sun's out, but it's not hot at all. Today it was the meadow, and the grass was greener than it had ever been. The tree kept fading in and out, but that didn't matter. I wasn't alone this time, and I didn't suddenly imagine myself chasing after someone but getting nowhere. That was nice. I'd like to find a real place like that someday, where I could just lay about all day half-asleep, as I am when my personal version of Beloved comes creeping about.

Stupid ghost.