rumblings

I want to know why political news reads like an adventure novel, like a sprawling sci-fi battle, why hyperbole is thrown about like meatballs in a food fight. I want to know why senators are promising "a good fight," why such drama is strained out of every political matter, why lives are made and broken over trifling matters in this realm. Politics, our governing body, exists to regulate our laws, to update them when they become obsolete, to abolish them when they no longer help but restrict, and to create new laws that will further help us in the ultimate goal of humanity: to be good to one another and live as happily and in as much comfort as is possible.

When did we forget that goal? When did politics become petty?

And why is a sex instinct such an awful thing for a politician to have? Do we expect our lawmakers and leaders to be above human instinct? I suppose that makes some sense...

I just worry that our leaders have forgotten why they have their jobs, what their purpose is, that glamour has perverted our system, that exposure has altered our governing system into a new beast entirely. The lust for fame and glory, for meaning, has transformed our country from its origin, transformed its inhabitants.

Should we take comfort knowing we aren't the only ones? Or should we strive to change, to fix this, knowing that we are the most prominent example the world can see?

I don't want my leader to be a superhero, I don't want my leader to be anything other than aware of the human condition, to have his own answer, and to be receptive to the answers of others.


Here is a dilemma:

Let's say you have a crippling fear of something, a doubt you can't shake, a feeling you can't confirm or deny. One day you decide living in fear is foolish, that life is too short and too mad to cower away from it. So you cast aside your inhibitions, you throw yourself into the wind and see where the gusts take you. For a while the wind is gentle and your body flows free through the slipstream, sliding past obstacles as though they were miles away. For a while your body relaxes and the wind is like the softest sand, like a Japanese blanket. You are part of a vast, gentle river, gliding through a gentle wilderness, and your body is as liquid at the water you are now part of. As time passes, the river begins to shallow, rocks begin to scrape at your skin, your pace is slowed by cliffs and edges, the river becomes a stream, the stream becomes a lake, the lake a pond, the pond a puddle, the puddle evaporates until you lie alone in rough, unforgiving gravel, skinned to the bone. You keep your eyes open, your lungs moving, your heart beating, waiting for the sweet rain to fall from the sky and cool your burning flesh.

If it doesn't come, and the agony, the fire, the empty sky, if those are your final companions, would you have been better off dying beside the river?


Right now i live in fear of facing a truth. I wonder if I can make a dream a reality if i ignore its one flaw. But then I wonder if that is the definition of insanity.

Then I wonder what sanity is, and who gets to decide.

then nothing makes sense.