Grizzly Adams and f*(cking snow!

So, I wander all unassuming into the bathroom to take a soak and I notice that my chin looks a bit fuzzy.

Weird, I lean in closer and I swear to god, there was a chia pet on my chin! WTF? The lighting on the farm is not THAT bad.

I may be exaggerating the tiniest bit about the chia pet. But that is how it felt. My hormones must be having Kappa Luau or something because some strange things are happening in who-ville. Oooh, has anyone seen Horton Hears a Who? I think I’m going to pull a marathon movie day this week, one day in the middle of the day I’m going to hunker down in the movie theater and hop around until I’ve caught up on all my pop culture. I want to see Horton, Be Kind Rewind, and a bunch of other stuff I don’t thnk about until I go passing by a movieplex. I want it all.

I was reading Joy Luck Club earlier today and in it there was a passage where they were talking about the fighting in Kweilin in the 40s, as Japan invaded China (again) and destroyed everything it could get its hands on (again). So, thousands died because the Kuomantang refused to acknowledge the advancing Japanese presence and kept printing out newspapers saying everything was fine. And 50 years after the war, people from outside the province had no idea what had happened and were shocked to learn of the war, the destruction etc. I thought, "that is so gangster." Generally, I think the Chinese are gangster anyway. I mean, there are few media savvy western adults who don’t have the image of the lone student standing in front of the tank from the early 90s but ask an adult of the same age from China - not a thing. Blank expression. Never saw it, never heard about the student protests - nada. Gangster.

However, the U.S. is pretty gangster, too. If for no other reason to learn what we are up to, i think Americans should leave the country and listen in on the conversations of other English-speaking people. That’s not hard. You can go to the Caribbean and sit on a semi-secluded beach and hear people relating the miles of misanthropy our government gets up to in the name of the American people. I don’t hate. I just like to have an idea of what my cultural identity means in the larger arena on the off chance that, oh, i don’t know, someone invades and proverbial chickens come home to roost.

It snowed today and got real cold, real fast. Who saw that coming? Not I.

Well, that’s enough of my rambling.

Sweet heart, bitter heart, now I can’t tell you apart. ~ Feist