Saturday, July 5, 2008

Day 193...183 big ones this morning

Can I tell you something? I HATE The 4th of July, AKA Independence Day. Am I unpatriotic? No... Do I hate my country? No... Am I some sort of Scrooge? Maybe... See, here's the thing: I cannot stand the bullshit that surrounds holidays--this one or any other one. I can honor my country from the comfort of my couch, thank you very much; I don't need to light a $100 bill on fire in front of my house (AKA "fireworks") to let the world know I love my country. I don't need to eat food likely strewn with food borne illness at a BBQ in 110 degree heat to show my patriotism. I'm not excited about going to the lake with a zillion other nasty people as an exhibit of my fondness for the land that I love. Do I get teary when I sing the Star Spangled Banner? Yes... Do I bawl like a baby when I see soldiers coming home from a tour in the middle east? Yup... But I don't need to do what every other American sap is doing to prove that I'm patriotic.

I've always fought the norm. I cannot stand being like all the other lemmings here in the US. THAT'S what this country is all about: the freedom to be an individual. Except, that's not the truth. This country doesn't want you to be an individual. They want conformity. Of course I suppose that's the way it is everywhere, not just here.

Now, don't get me wrong...I don't walk around with piercings in my face, 4" clear plastic stripper shoes, or Rainbow Brite hair. (Though when I do meet people with these types of fashion statements, I admire that...and realize it is just a fashion statement, and is not indicative of them as PEOPLE. I hate it when people get so caught up in how someone LOOKS that they can't see they're talented, intelligent, capable/productive citizens. I mean, jeez...Jeffrey Dahlmer looked like every other John Doe on the planet, and he was super freaky-deaky.)

I won't conform if I don't want to. This stubborn nature of mine has caused quite a bit of havoc in my personal life, but I figure that if I want to be able to sleep at night, I've got to do what I believe in. Maybe this stubborn quality stems from the fact that I felt overpowered as a child. Controlled. I cannot STAND that feeling; so much so that if I detect the slightest hint of it, I freak out. Please understand that I hate feeling like I'm being controlled, so out of respect for my fellow humans, I won't try to exert control over them.

(What an odd post today...)

In patriotic solidarity,

FatMom (AKA Scrooge)

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