Meet the people Romney doesn’t care about.
These are people in debt.
These are people in danger of losing their homes.
Some of them are on assistance.
Some of them need help with medical bills.
Some of them need help paying for groceries.
All of them are in situations they would rather not be in.
Most of them never thought they’d be in a place where they would need help to pay for basic things, or when they would have to struggle to pay basic bills.
This one’s husband left her with two kids. He wiped out their bank account. She doesn’t know where he is.
This one had a catastrophic illness that ate up all her savings and forced her to resign from her job.
This one has a master’s degree. Had a great job. Then her company was swallowed whole by another company and she was laid off.
This one lost a child in a car accident. She was unable to cope and has been suffering from depression ever since. She lost her job.
This one was renting a house with no idea the owner was not paying the mortgage. The bank foreclosed. He, along with his wife and two kids, were evicted without enough time to find a new place. They are staying in a shelter for now.
This one is a former drug addict trying to get her life back together by going to school and working but she needs some help with housing to get by for a bit.
This is young man kicked out of his house by alcoholic, abusive parents. He’s living off food stamps while trying to find a better job that will allow him to stay in his current apartment.
This is a woman with a special needs child who needs around the clock care. She doesn’t have health insurance. But she can’t work because her child needs her. She’s drowning in debt and uses whatever money she has to take care of her child, sometimes at the expense of paying bills.
Are there people here gaming the system? Yes. Are there people not taking responsibility for their actions? Of course. Are there people who ended up in their predicaments with no one to fault but themselves. Yes. There are.
But there are more people here who have not created their own circumstances. There are people represented among these files who do not ask for help as if they are entitled to it. They do not demand of their government food, shelter and health care. They do not stand around with their hands out while doing nothing else to change their situation.
They are part of the 47%. And they’d really rather not have to depend on anyone but themselves to get by in life. But sometimes that is not possible. Sometimes, shit happens. Life happens. And if we don’t help them get by, if we dismiss them, condescend to them, treat them as less than those who have, then we lose. America loses.
They are Americans. They are ours. They are your neighbors, whether you know it or not. Hunger does not always look how you think it does. Poverty does not always show. Need is not always evident.
It is not just the President’s job to care about these people. It is our job. It is America’s job.
I don’t know about you, but I do not want a man who dismisses an entire group of people out of hand in any leadership role in my country.
These folders. They are all people.
You have no right to judge them. Because you don’t know. You do not know their stories.
And you don’t know when it might be your turn.
Think about that. Think about having a man in office who thinks all these people are beneath him, who holds everyone represented here in contempt.
Is that what you want for your country?
I really hope not.
4:30 pm • 18 September 2012 • 2,879 notes
Life, as of late, has been full of surprises, twists, turns, some hard times, some good times, insanity, stagnant waters, and storms. And all of it has led to some honest introspection.
One of the things I’ve realized is that I’ve lost some people. It’s my own fault, and it breaks my heart. It’s hard enough to have friends and loved ones leave, but to be the one to have pushed them? And even worse, they were the people that touched my soul—cheesy as it sounds—in a profound way.
How does it happen?
One of them was because I am selfish. At the time of our breaking apart, I was (crazy, insanely, exhaustingly) busy. I was occupied with school and work, and my heart was weighted with a long distance relationship. My friend reached out to me, and I pushed them away. Despite continuing to be connected via social networks, we don’t talk. We used to talk, and talk a lot and there was laughing and crying and challenging debates. They are a person with whom I could truly be myself. I miss saying anything that came to mind—especially considering how heavily I censor myself around 99.99999% of people, no matter how tame the thought. They were my platonic soul mate.
Another loss came because of my social awkwardness and my selfishness, again. They were ousted from a social group I was in, unfairly. Things had changed, and the remainder of the group freaked out. Change is so terrifying, especially when making a life transition. They were slowly pushed. Or, at least, this is how I’ve perceived the situation. They were outcast because the rest of the group, including me, I’m ashamed to say, couldn’t accept that this person was developing and they weren’t staying the same. As with the other friend, we are still connected but talk very rarely. I wish I had been courageous enough to defend them and ask them about the changes being made. I’m embarrassed and regret that I didn’t.
In the past few months, I’ve drafted emails in my head countless times. I’d apologize, and explain my point of view, and give them the chance to ignore me. In my head, I’ve wronged these people. I’ve been a coward, closed-minded, unfair, and just plain rude. At the end of the day, I miss them. I miss them both, very deeply.
Connecting—truly, to the core connecting—with people is difficult, at least for me. Social rejection is my worst nightmare. I’ve had people who said they were my best friend treat me horribly and tear down my dreams. I’ve had people who have flat out ignored my requests for help, despite our “friendship.” I’m not sure if my standards are too high or if I don’t understand friendship these days.
So to have felt so comfortable around these people, and then to have so stupidly lost them, is mortifying, to say the least. I regret it. I wish I could go back in time and fix everything. When I mentally review what I did, I feel like a terrible friend and person. I can only hope I’ve grown and made some positive changes.
Recently, I’ve been thinking about reaching out to them and attempting to reconnect, but not just in my head. For real. No matter the social repercussions, I want them back in my life, the rest of the group be damned. My happiness is becoming more important, and these people make me happy. And not artificial, I’m-just-pretending happy. Real, good, fulfilling happy. That’s rare, especially now that I’m no longer in my home state. I’ve met people, but those soul-comforting friends are scarce.
I can’t be scared of either of them rejecting me, because I’ve handed them the right to do so. I yearn to come clean and apologize, selfish as that may be. If I get them both back, I will be more than grateful. I will treasure them the way they deserve. If I get one back, the same will happen, just on a smaller, more person-sized scale. If I don’t get either of them, I will have learned.
I’ve learned that friendship is a two way street. That real, true friendship is rare, and should be treated properly. That not everyone will “get” you and you have to hold on to those people that do. That being vulnerable is okay, because it’s better than closing yourself off and losing something. That listening is just as, if not more, important than talking. That it’s okay to ask questions if you’re confused about something they’re doing. That loyalty is supreme.
The lessons have already been accepted, and I will be okay no matter what happens. That said, I’m going to keep my fingers crossed. I am hopeful. If nothing else, I’ve become a better friend during this process.
If that’s the parting gift they’ve given me, then I got pretty lucky. Thanks, friends.
6:44 pm • 16 September 2012
Am vs. could be
I’m constantly trying to be what I think I’m “supposed” to be. Nice, friendly, fashionable, sexy, quiet. Part of me does want to be these things. I know that people who actually like other people are more attractive.
But that’s the thing. On the whole, I don’t really like people. I’m overly picky about whose company I enjoy. Honestly, most people only have to do one small thing to grate on my nerves. Sometimes it’s a big thing. Sometimes it’s telling me my [highly emotionally grounded] tattoo is stupid. Other times it’s just persistently complaining. Big and small. It doesn’t seem to matter.
Yet part of me wants to be that person who loves being around other people. I would like to have a giant group of friends to call on. I would like to have invitations to go out places all the time. I would like to be called and texted constantly.
Except I’m not good at clearing out my iPhone notifications. I’m not always in the mood to talk on the phone. I’m a homebody. I don’t like people.
And then there’s that one person in my life who just radiates good energy, that everyone loves, that I love to such a degree that I can’t help but constantly think fondly of her. I smile when she enters my mind and when I see a picture of her, I wish she were close by so I could hug her. She’s what I’d like to be. Sweet, funny, warm, but also headstrong and smart. From the second I met her, she’s been this everlasting sunshine in my heart, outrageously corny as that may sound.
Why can’t I be more like her? Was she always like this? Did she have to practice being so wonderful?
Sometimes I think the solution is to own a gorgeous handbag with a set of custom Dungeons and Dragons dice in it, as a balance to my personality. The handbag would be admired by the girls I lunch with. The dice would be for Sunday DnD sessions. I could be what I am and also what I could be.
I want to be more patient with people. I do. But then they open their mouths, and I don’t know how to erase their chatter from my memory. I can’t fix not liking them. I could try. I’m not the most enthusiastic people person now but I could try.
I’m battling what I am versus what I could be. I’m battling the potential society has set out for me—be friendly! Make people love you! Always smile!
I’m positive and optimistic. But I’m not able to always like a person. I can believe in the best in people. But I can’t force them to be good. I can be open minded. But I can’t change a person’s awful way of thinking/speaking/acting.
What’s a girl to do?
7:34 pm • 6 February 2012
@Capacity: On my mind since '91
In Father of the Bride Part II, Annie and Brian are deciding on what to name their future baby. If it’s a boy, they like:
- Wyatt (“As in Earp?” Brian’s father asks and you’re like, “Shut up, Brian’s father”)
And if it’s a girl, they like:
And are still debating…
This. This forever.
9:47 pm • 7 October 2011 • 13 notes
The ballad of the roasted broccoli
Yesterday, while grocery shopping at Growers Direct, I bought two bags full of fresh, raw broccoli. My initial plan was to steam all of it, and enjoy it with some salt and pepper. However, today, as I contemplated lunch, I was reminded of a roasted broccoli recipe I had found a long time ago. So what did I do?
Quick Google search for roasted broccoli recipes, weed through the results for the easiest/healthiest one, and then completely ignore any measurements for ingredients.
I did end up steaming some of the broccoli, but I also made roasted broccoli. Just washed the bunches, dried them thoroughly, cut off the florets, cut up the stems, and tossed it all in some olive oil, sea salt, lemon pepper, and garlic powder.
Popped it all in the oven at 450 for 23 minutes and voila! Delicious roasted broccoli! I was eating it straight off the pan, but also dumped a bunch in a noodle bowl from Trader Joe’s. Easy peasy, mac n cheesy, my friends.
6:07 pm • 26 September 2011 • 1 note
My first experience in mobile gaming was a super sweet lime green GameBoy Color, for which we had only a few games. I preferred Pokemon Blue, and I thought the graphics during battle were downright epic.
Now, I tend to stick to my DS Lite and, much to the chagrin of myself a year ago, my iPhone 4.
See, I grew up using Apple computers. We had an amazing G4 that I loved for every possible reason. I learned to type on an Apple, and I even used a very old, antiquated Apple laptop for my writing. I would save stories on a nice collection of … gulp … floppy disks. I shudder at the thought.
When Apple became boisterously popular, and prices shot through the roof, we became a PC family. With that came the uppity attitude towards Apple, and Apple fans. Last summer, in fact, when all I heard about was the iPhone 4 and how great it was going to be and how Apple just works. Blah, blah, blah. I vowed to never own one.
To make a long, embarrassing story short, I ended up getting an iPhone 4, which is now basically glued to my hand. I sleep with it. I caress it lovingly. It’s saved my skin on many an occasion. We are the best of pals.
Not only does it just work (which is something I find myself saying now), but it’s great as a mobile gaming device. There’s an amazing variety of games, from action to racing to role play to puzzles and every other possible game. Thanks to the touch screen, it’s also easy and fun to play said games.
For example, the contents of my gaming folders, sans Game Center: Call of Atlantis (puzzle), Luxor (puzzle), Tetris (puzzle), Angry Birds (action), Plants vs. Zombies (action, puzzle), Bejeweled 2 (puzzle), Grimm (action), Ultimate Mortal Kombat 3 (fighting), Words with Friends (word), TriZen (puzzle), Zentomino (puzzle), and Chicktionary (word).
No, I don’t like puzzles, but thanks for asking.
I will go through phases where all I do is play Luxor or Chicktionary before bed. I’ve played Call of Atlantis so many times over. The nice part of playing on my iPhone is that it’s right there. I’m not going to miss a call or text while I’m playing. It’s a small device that fits comfortably in my hand. If I get bored with a game, there’s inevitably something else either in my folder or in the App Store that I can buy.
Games like TriZen and Zentomino help me calm down if I’m worried or stressed about something, because I’m forced to focus completely on how to fit the pieces into the puzzle. Words with Friends is a game that I’ve recently become obsessed with as soon as I figured out you could play more than one game (not that waiting days at a time for the other person wasn’t fun). Ultimate Mortal Kombat 3 is just plain fun.
Whether I pick up my iPhone intentionally so that I can play a game or I’m waiting for an appointment to start, the games on my phone have supplied me with entertainment and casual gaming on a level I didn’t expect. I love knowing that no matter where I am, I have the option to solve a puzzle, keep zombies at bay, or maybe even kick Kung Lao’s ass.
10:02 am • 14 September 2011 • 8 notes
The art of being alone
Due to my recent temporary job, I have fallen into the habit of eating lunch alone. Not at home, but at a restaurant.
This is an event that would have previously terrified me. I assume that everyone else at the restaurant is looking at me and wondering just how much of a loser I must be to be eating alone. I assume that the server pities me. I assume a lot of things, most of them unkind.
However, I do eat lunch and it’s more convenient to eat at a restaurant close to my job rather than drive all the way home. Now that I’ve done it a few times, I’m wondering why it scared me so much.
I no longer have any problem announcing to the host or hostess that I require a table for one. To me, it’s become luxurious. I don’t have to force conversation with a dining partner. I don’t have to split an appetizer or make any menu choices based on who I’m with. I can eat and drink what I want, and take my time doing so.
To make it even better, I always bring along my e-reader. Now I get a two hour lunch to eat slowly and read. This way, I’m not awkwardly people-watching while I eat. Yesterday, I chose to stop and occasionally gaze out the window, but that was simply because it was overcast and gorgeous outside.
The past two weeks have taught me that being alone is nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve gained confidence over it, and I no longer fear going out to a meal in a sit-down restaurant alone. Just because I eat the occasional meal alone doesn’t make me a friendless loser. It just means that I have the ability to spend time by myself, enjoying things that make me happy. If that means pasta and Sherlock Holmes, so be it.
10:01 am • 12 September 2011 • 1 note