March 24, 2005, 3:36 PM
The family computer that I share with my parents and siblings has been on the fritz recently. I don't know enough about computers to know whether it's a hardware issue or software issue. If I had to guess, I'd say it's the latter. Mainly because, I dunno, computers are still a bit of an unknown entity to the K*** family. Computers are just new to humans in general, relatively. If human history is a 24-hour day, then we're trying to blog on Xanga at like two minutes to midnight. Like, my parents' response to these issues is literally "let's call the Geek Squad." No way that shit is going to age well, when we look back in eighteen years from now or so. Main point being that I honestly have no idea how I got onto Xanga today. Pure dumb luck, and I'm afraid to even sneeze while I'm typing this, lest it all falls apart and the proverbial skull and crossbones returns to this computer monitor once again.
But I have a couple of things I briefly want to talk about, if the desktop Dell will have me. First on the agenda: Terri Schiavo. I'm still in the nascent stages of developing my political views, but one of the main sticking points I keep returning to, even now as a sixteen-year-old, is that policy should move toward that which prevents unnecessary death for living human beings, across the globe or in this nation or in my community, depending on the scope of said policy. I'm not talking about the unborn, since that requires the additional question of "What is life?", which is something I'd like to put a pin in for now (please don't think that I'm a pro-lifer though). I'm talking about the born, the children, the adults, the people that actually exist now. Basic needs would provide for life, at a minimum. Medical care is a basic need, in my opinion. And yet here is Terri Schiavo, quality of life very poor, husband in a position where he has to decide about his wife's wants and needs for her, and he very reasonably believes that Schiavo would want her life ended, if she could indeed communicate her wants. On the other hand, pulling the tube would end a life, and that makes me take pause. That's all. It's one of the few issues I am totally undecided on right now. I'm sure when I'm older, with a bit more perspective, I'll have a firmer grasp on what I believe when it comes to this tricky subject. For now, I'm mostly just farting into the wind on my Xanga.
Even at sixteen, I do know one thing—that it's extremely fucking weird and off-putting that the President of the United States, George W. Bush, is somehow sticking his nose into what should be a personal family decision. Plus, like, isn't he being a little hypocritical here? "Every life is sacred," he says. Well, except for those 100,000 Iraqis, of course, but when it comes to oil and profit margins and blowhard jingoism and the war machine, life is only sacred when god is on your side, and according to Bush, god is wearing a cowboy hat and has an American flag draped around his neck like a cape.
On a more personal note—sorry to violently swerve from one subject to another, but that's the Xanga game, baby—this summer is looking better and better by the day. I got notice today I may have a chance to go to this business camp thingy for a week with Harry later in the summer. I realize that the phrase "business camp" make it sound an incredibly boring opportunity. Taking a good look at the promotional material, however, and it looks pretty fucking sweet. I have no idea what I want to do as a career; could a career in business be in the cards (whatever the fuck that means—I guess I'll be learning at business camp)? At the very least, it'll be cool to get away for a week, live at college, pretend we're in college, meet some jabronis my age from all over the state.
I know I'm going to regret not typing more about it now while it's still fresh in my mind, but I'm sure I'll get there eventually (maybe during a time when my computer is secure and will definitely not freeze on me and wipe out everything I've typed so far).
Last night, I went to meet up with Matt S., a dude who lives over in Fox Chase, and who I met through my cousin Andrew. We took a bus down to the old neighborhood, like Lawndale or Burholme or however you want to draw the neighborhood boundaries in what is collective known as the Great Northeast. We met up with Joe G. and two other dudes, both of whom I might describe as "unsavory" if I wanted to seem like I was the type of person to make snap judgments about people I've just met. Maybe I just thought that because there was some pressure to drink alcohol. Not that I haven't drank before, but I'm kinda easing my way into it, ya know? And if I'm chilling with people I barely know and we're out in public and I'm told that there's going to be drinking involved, maybe at that point I don't really care to partake?
No thoughts either way about whether people our age should be drinking with frequency at this point. It's a personal decision—like Terri Schiavo's husband!—and my personal decision, at least in that moment last night, I didn't feel like drinking. Luckily, the dudes were cool with me dipping out, and other friends were cool with me cold-calling them with a knock at their house. So that's how I ended up chilling with Cindy for a bit. Always a good time. Except I forgot my iced tea at her house, damn it (you'll recall from my mentioning it last time that my addictions currently are more sober in nature). It was so damn cold, windy, and rainy last night, though, so I made it a point to come home early. Overall, I'd say it felt good arriving home at eight o'clock, even though it's waaaaay earlier than my usual m.o. I still have a curfew, but that doesn't mean I have to stay out till the minute curfew expires, every night. Curfew is an option, a limit. And I know I'd like to develop the personality of a social person, but fuck it, man. I was in bed early. That's a good thing. More energy to blog on Xanga today.
I can't wait for it... yeah you know what I'm talking about..... or maybe you don't, and comments like this on a public blog are really annoying....... and I'm sure it will not age well.......
But I have a couple of things I briefly want to talk about, if the desktop Dell will have me. First on the agenda: Terri Schiavo. I'm still in the nascent stages of developing my political views, but one of the main sticking points I keep returning to, even now as a sixteen-year-old, is that policy should move toward that which prevents unnecessary death for living human beings, across the globe or in this nation or in my community, depending on the scope of said policy. I'm not talking about the unborn, since that requires the additional question of "What is life?", which is something I'd like to put a pin in for now (please don't think that I'm a pro-lifer though). I'm talking about the born, the children, the adults, the people that actually exist now. Basic needs would provide for life, at a minimum. Medical care is a basic need, in my opinion. And yet here is Terri Schiavo, quality of life very poor, husband in a position where he has to decide about his wife's wants and needs for her, and he very reasonably believes that Schiavo would want her life ended, if she could indeed communicate her wants. On the other hand, pulling the tube would end a life, and that makes me take pause. That's all. It's one of the few issues I am totally undecided on right now. I'm sure when I'm older, with a bit more perspective, I'll have a firmer grasp on what I believe when it comes to this tricky subject. For now, I'm mostly just farting into the wind on my Xanga.
Even at sixteen, I do know one thing—that it's extremely fucking weird and off-putting that the President of the United States, George W. Bush, is somehow sticking his nose into what should be a personal family decision. Plus, like, isn't he being a little hypocritical here? "Every life is sacred," he says. Well, except for those 100,000 Iraqis, of course, but when it comes to oil and profit margins and blowhard jingoism and the war machine, life is only sacred when god is on your side, and according to Bush, god is wearing a cowboy hat and has an American flag draped around his neck like a cape.
On a more personal note—sorry to violently swerve from one subject to another, but that's the Xanga game, baby—this summer is looking better and better by the day. I got notice today I may have a chance to go to this business camp thingy for a week with Harry later in the summer. I realize that the phrase "business camp" make it sound an incredibly boring opportunity. Taking a good look at the promotional material, however, and it looks pretty fucking sweet. I have no idea what I want to do as a career; could a career in business be in the cards (whatever the fuck that means—I guess I'll be learning at business camp)? At the very least, it'll be cool to get away for a week, live at college, pretend we're in college, meet some jabronis my age from all over the state.
I know I'm going to regret not typing more about it now while it's still fresh in my mind, but I'm sure I'll get there eventually (maybe during a time when my computer is secure and will definitely not freeze on me and wipe out everything I've typed so far).
Last night, I went to meet up with Matt S., a dude who lives over in Fox Chase, and who I met through my cousin Andrew. We took a bus down to the old neighborhood, like Lawndale or Burholme or however you want to draw the neighborhood boundaries in what is collective known as the Great Northeast. We met up with Joe G. and two other dudes, both of whom I might describe as "unsavory" if I wanted to seem like I was the type of person to make snap judgments about people I've just met. Maybe I just thought that because there was some pressure to drink alcohol. Not that I haven't drank before, but I'm kinda easing my way into it, ya know? And if I'm chilling with people I barely know and we're out in public and I'm told that there's going to be drinking involved, maybe at that point I don't really care to partake?
No thoughts either way about whether people our age should be drinking with frequency at this point. It's a personal decision—like Terri Schiavo's husband!—and my personal decision, at least in that moment last night, I didn't feel like drinking. Luckily, the dudes were cool with me dipping out, and other friends were cool with me cold-calling them with a knock at their house. So that's how I ended up chilling with Cindy for a bit. Always a good time. Except I forgot my iced tea at her house, damn it (you'll recall from my mentioning it last time that my addictions currently are more sober in nature). It was so damn cold, windy, and rainy last night, though, so I made it a point to come home early. Overall, I'd say it felt good arriving home at eight o'clock, even though it's waaaaay earlier than my usual m.o. I still have a curfew, but that doesn't mean I have to stay out till the minute curfew expires, every night. Curfew is an option, a limit. And I know I'd like to develop the personality of a social person, but fuck it, man. I was in bed early. That's a good thing. More energy to blog on Xanga today.
I can't wait for it... yeah you know what I'm talking about..... or maybe you don't, and comments like this on a public blog are really annoying....... and I'm sure it will not age well.......
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comments
sgtpepper841: he's baaaaaack!
dude, check out the song "the bells of rhymney", by The Byrds...
peace
if you want, the poem will show up
Anonymous: Yay! You're back! I love the background song, excellent choice.
I can't decide on that Terri Schiavo case either. What a mess.
No comments:
Post a Comment