trinityofone

I used to love the Fourth of July. It was probably my favorite non-presents holiday. I used to get all dressed up in an extravagant red, white & blue outfit--I'd even wear RW&B hair-ribbons in my ponytail. My parents would give us sparklers and we'd pack a big picnic and take it over to this huge, empty field at Middlebury College where there would be a free concert (I always liked the 1812 Overture) and then fireworks during the final number. It was wonderful: the food, the music, the atmosphere, the company. But even more than that, it was wonderful to believe. It was wonderful to believe in America--and I did. I did so strongly, and for so long. I believed that we were truly the best nation on earth, one with a history of human and civil rights, a precious, pure, bastion of freedom.

Now it makes me sick to hear that word. It's been turned into a false thing, and it's just one of many that this administration has turned in on itself. When I think back and realize that it's been less than five years--less than five years--since I believed in and trusted and even, yes, loved my country...I am flabbergasted. So much has changed in so little time. And admittedly, part of my changing feelings may be the price of growing up, but even as an adult, I would have liked to have had this one day to still believe. Instead the lies sting me, and what we've become burns me, all the worse.

So Happy Birthday, America. I hope I can someday believe in you again. But I fear that day may be a long time coming.

ETA: From jetspeaks, too appropriate:

( How American Are You? )

Yesterday our landlord sent some prospective tenants around to see the place without warning us, so I had to show them around a fairly dirty apartment. Not underwear on the floor dirty, but not the spic 'n' span masterpiece I had envisioned. I don't think it made a difference. These girls were--how should I put this?--very much of my high school. My second high school. Beverly Hills High.*

Not to stereotype, but...oy. I lost brain cells just talking to them. At least three of them were wearing psychopepsquad's favorite mini skirt and Uggs combo, and they didn't ask any of the questions that I would ask if I were checking out a prospective living space but just kept going from room to room remarking, "It's so SMALL!" Over and over, "It's so SMALL!" I felt like shouting, "Hel-lo! Right here!" What were they expecting? A palace? This may be pride of ownership speaking, but I think it's a damn nice place for college.

My favorite thing, though, was their reactions to some of the...geekier decorations I have up. Upon seeing my Spike stand-up one inquired, "Is that Orlando Bloom?" And stumbling across my Wolverine poster (Hugh Jackman Wolverine, BTW): "Is that Harry Potter?"

::headdesk::

So it looks like this place may go from geek paradise to Beverly Hills 94703. Remind me that I'm not supposed to care.

*For those who don't know, after 11 years in Vermont, my family moved back to its native Los Angeles and my brother and I were snuck illegally into BHUHS. Thus I spent the last two years of high school feeling as out of place as I did for the first two--only in the opposite direction.