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The Image You Cut

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post #306
bio: kristen

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that week

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Dutch Ultimatum
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Friday Party #347
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Taking One 4 the Team
Leap and the Net Will Appear

Go ahead. Call me an idiot bleeding heart idealist idiot. A self-centered do-nothing, complain about everything person. I just did. You can too.

So, I'm rounding the corner. I go the beach way to work. It's not as smashing as the view in santa monica as there's no cliff vista, but I enjoy seeing a glimpse of the sea through the dunes. Small pleasures. So there I am thinking about work as I awaken at 3am then 5am then 6am then 7am. I drink my coffee and think about how sad it is that I am reckoning with telling my lovely best friend/husband that I agree with my advisors reluctantly and think imposing a no-talk/no-contact zone for a thirty day trail is a worthwhile idea. I don't like it. I'm terrified of not having my very oldest and proven support system and cutting this off from my life for our own good. I'm not sure if it's the correct decision, and it truly boggles my mind how my formerly most treasured two anchors/rocks have had to be cut out of my life like an arm. I don't even know if we can hold to it, but these are my thoughts - soccer ball keychains, lanyards, bags, and my
(ex) husband.

I round the corner to the ocean. This is my second time doing this walk.
Yesterday, I realized that the boardwalk is sort of a camp for the homeless.
They all seem to awaken at around 8:10 and roll up their bedding and do what the homeless must do.

There is a fucking 11-year oldish black child with no apparent relatives around him (read no other black people - and I don't know if it's wrong to call him 'black', but I call myself 'white', so what of it). There is a child rolling up his bedding with the others. I am startled but give him a slight smile. I then proceed to start a gentle crying. What the fucking hell shit? I am living in the so-called richest country in the world. We spend trillions on killing other people for their own good and to feed our defense contractors and oil friends. There is a homeless child staring at me, and I'm angry. I'm mortified. I'm horrifed. My fucking heart breaks.

For some reason, the adult homeless just make me rather sad. This kid was the first homeless kid that I ever have seen. Duh. I realize that they are out there. I volunteered once for a homeless benefit a couple of months ago, and that's all I've done. I don't have any answers. I would sooner dedicate my life to the trees and the ocean than these unattractive people; however, I feel for you kid. If I had a couple of million dollars, I would probably walk right by you like I did today and feel guiltier. I'd like to think that I'd say "what the fuck are you doing out here" and somehow save him, but what would I do with a child? Would I adopt him if I had a million dollars? Would I set him up in an apartment? Would I send him to boarding school?

So there, another bitch - do-nothing from me. Thousands like him.
Thousands like me who cling to what I've got knowing I have many resources from which to draw, and yet I'm scared as hell and lonely and creatively somnambulent. I've got problems with themes and relationships and the world and all that. It consumes me more than the homeless kid; however, thanks to you kid. My self-centered thanks. I give less of a shit about soccer ball keychains and bags that the client may have a problems with, and I can't fix at this point.

I do love you in theory, and I'm sure my pity won't do shit for you.

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