Obama '08.

I am so sick and exasperated by the fact that this election has turned into constant personal attacks on character. I am not ignorant. I know this happens every day, both inside and outside of the public eye, but it seems to me that the 2008 election has become malicious in nature now more than ever before. Our current situation is driving people to extremes that should not be reached during the interval in which the next leader of our country is to be chosen. Everyone wants a solution, and everyone wants it now. But it can't come now. We have been driven into a crisis that is not going to be mended over night. Other countries' perceptions of us will not transform in the blink of an eye or an unnecessary bombing of innocent civilians. The economy will not rebound by the simple act of drilling everywhere we can or giving EVERYONE a '$5000 tax break,' which has incidentally been promised for years with no results. It is going to take cooperation and compassion. It is going to take time and temperament. It is going to take sacrifice and submission. 
When you blatantly criticize an individual based on race or religion, and utilize these criticisms as your main opposition to his or her ideals, then you are utterly foolish. It is the 21st century, the dawn of a new era, where intelligence and talent is not limited to white males with a whip. People can think for themselves, some better than others. Too many people are stuck in a world where 'tradition' has become paralyzing and ineffective. We now require different maintenances and plans for the future. With that said, I am publicly displaying my support for Barack Obama in the upcoming election. 
I am not as much a philanthropist as I probably should be. Nor am I prone to tolerance for stupidity. But I know money doesn't magically appear when it is needed, and I know that children should NOT be held responsible for their parent's mistakes, intentional or unintentional. I know that an increase in taxes for the wealthy, subsequently cutting taxes for 95% of Americans, is going to help more than it hurts. God forbid you can't buy your spoiled children a pony for their birthday or a Hummer at age 16. I know that everyone who wants to go to college should have the opportunity, and without the work that illegal immigrants provide, your million dollar homes would not be built. More options for healthcare is not a campaign for socialism. It is another opportunity. If you have healthcare already, then you are not bothered. Most people's opposition to the tax dilemma is that it will decrease capitalism and a drive to succeed, but no one is going to succumb to living in slightly lower standards simply because more of your money will be put toward something to help more people than you could ever imagine. No one is going to change their current career path because of tax increases. It will not be forever; but it has to be for now. Money is not rushing in by the billions; it is doing the exact opposite. And until we cease spending 10 billion dollars or more a year on the war, sacrifices must be made. I know, I know, "it wasn't our decision to go to war, why should we have to pay for it." Because you live here. Because you have made a life as an American, and if you don't want to be bothered by the fact that the government has to spend money in order to do certain things, then leave, please. Sacrifice some money now so your children can have a somewhat promising future. 
And the fact that some deem it acceptable to refer to Obama as the "anti-christ" is completely disturbing and shocking. You ignorant, self-absorbed pricks. 
That's all. But probably not. Let the comments roll.

No Note;

Please do not think I am attempting to be morbid by writing this blog. I have an assignment for my Modern and Contemporary Literature class to write an imitation of sorts of a work we have read thus far. I chose to replicate the suicide of Septimus, a character in Virginia Woolf's novel Mrs. Dalloway, with the suicide of my aunt. The style is slightly odd because that is Virginia Woolf's strategy and part of the assignment. 

The subject is real.

She was finally left in peace; in silence; in tranquility. The drugs had taken their near paralyzing effect, and her mind entered a world she had become all too familiar with. Slowly, slowly; she slipped into a limbo of nostalgia. She remembered her mother saying, “If you just accept God into your life again, Jennifer, then you can come away from all of this. You can be whole again.” The words resonated in the air, she must be whole again; she must come back. “Why does everyone have power over my life but me?” “Why God?” “Why my mother?” “Why the drugs?” “I have lost complete control, or perhaps I never had it to begin with.”

She couldn’t bare the thoughts; the loss of power; the loss of sanity. It was all encompassing. Her children were gone, stripped away from her care because some deemed it inadequate. But perhaps it was; perhaps she herself was inadequate. The disappointment was staring her down! Where were the drugs? the only things that made any sense to her…

And she snorted line after line; the venomous, white powder grazed the inside of her nostrils; they were now red and raw, and she, she didn’t have a care in the world. Not in those moments.

So she got some rope from the garage and made a noose- no one could tell her what to do anymore. “I am no longer powerless.” “There is no longer a must, nor a will to live.” She could do this; she could and she would. The one thing no one else could manage in her life was, in fact, her life. She would no longer be at the mercy of neither family nor friends, neither deities nor drugs. And as she struggled up the stairs, nearly falling back twice as a result of the cocaine, she passed the pictures of her children along the walls; tiny faces once smiling back at the camera man, and now her. They were smiling at her. “I’ll miss you, but I have always loved you.”

Falling from great heights would do the trick; the balcony was the perfect base. But no, too public. Death is sacred, even in haste. She considered her husband’s handgun he kept in the bedside drawer for safety, but no, “he will have no part in this,” she exclaimed! The attic door caught the corner of her tired, watery eyes, and she knew. She knew how she would leave this world, her family, herself.

The plan was literally falling into place. No one was home. No one would check for hours. Just enough time to scrape her last breaths from her tired lungs. The knotting became more and more difficult as the drugs became stronger; there was no time for a note; no time for an explanation; no time for second thoughts…

There was, however, time to wrap the rope around her neck and pull. She pulled for her life, for her death; and then she fell. She fell from the opening of the attic in the ceiling, and was immediately jerked back up slightly by the resistance of the rope. She hung there in pity, more powerless than ever before.