This week in Burkina Faso, we are faced with one angry undone:
I want to take on the world. I want to march on Washington. I want to prove to every country, singlehandedly, that there are some Americans out there worth loving.
I am loveable. I have the love handles to prove it.
I could go on and on about this, but:
1) I have only seen the photographs, and that was while at work, and I don't think I could stomach it any more looking at everything from work. Also, I didn't want to spark poltical debate.
2) I am extremely angry about the entire debacle. My hands are shaking, and I am doing everything to live my life according to the way it's panned out, and I don't want to sit here and shake my head at everything I cannot control.
3) I called my congresspersons. Yes.
Today in Burkina Faso:
I am wearing shorts and a teeshirt, it is that warm. I am drinking coffee carefully, so as not to get driblets on my teeshirt. I have no shoes on, but my toes are asleep. I entertain the idea of practicing yoga this evening. I am having a ball purposefully Not. Touching. The. Television.
I saw a dog with his front paws crossed. I listened to someone blaring Mr. Sinatra as they gardened. I fell in love with a tattooed purple hair'd barista. Who doesn't fall in love when the outfits get tighter, shorter, more revealing, and the skin comes through? Cyborgs.
Me? My legs are still at blinding white, the highway construction going over just fine, thank you. One of these days, when I am forty, I will get tattoos to cover that all up. My massive calves will become canvases for things other than purple and red.
I want to take on the world. I want to march on Washington. I want to prove to every country, singlehandedly, that there are some Americans out there worth loving.
I am loveable. I have the love handles to prove it.
I could go on and on about this, but:
1) I have only seen the photographs, and that was while at work, and I don't think I could stomach it any more looking at everything from work. Also, I didn't want to spark poltical debate.
2) I am extremely angry about the entire debacle. My hands are shaking, and I am doing everything to live my life according to the way it's panned out, and I don't want to sit here and shake my head at everything I cannot control.
3) I called my congresspersons. Yes.
Today in Burkina Faso:
I am wearing shorts and a teeshirt, it is that warm. I am drinking coffee carefully, so as not to get driblets on my teeshirt. I have no shoes on, but my toes are asleep. I entertain the idea of practicing yoga this evening. I am having a ball purposefully Not. Touching. The. Television.
I saw a dog with his front paws crossed. I listened to someone blaring Mr. Sinatra as they gardened. I fell in love with a tattooed purple hair'd barista. Who doesn't fall in love when the outfits get tighter, shorter, more revealing, and the skin comes through? Cyborgs.
Me? My legs are still at blinding white, the highway construction going over just fine, thank you. One of these days, when I am forty, I will get tattoos to cover that all up. My massive calves will become canvases for things other than purple and red.