The Demo(n)cratic National Convention
The funny thing about writing about the Democratic National Convention (DNC) is that I actually don’t really care. Not to say that I didn’t get a bit teary-eyed when I read a transcript of Hillary Clinton’s speech, but right now there’s too much in my own life that while the global, sweeping issue of unity of the Democratic party was and has been important, but again too much in my own life. For instance, the weekend past I took the last of the New York State Teacher Certification Exams, the ATS-W, which stands for Assessment of Teaching Skills-Written. While the test itself was quite hard, it was the actual mental strain that took out the most of me. When I awoke (barely, because I wouldn’t qualify what I had as sleep) the voice in the back of my head wouldn’t stop hissing. It reminds me of the letter give to the main character in Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man. The letter given to him by a sabotaging Headmaster of the College he attended said “Keep this Nigger Boy Running.”
To an extent that’s a very good measure of how I feel. If it isn’t one thing, it is another. I suppose that is a truism which everyone feels, but sometimes, well often I feel it more intently. The things I must do, shouldn’t do, couldn’t do, or wasn’t allowed have all in some way originate from something that says keep running. I’m tired of running, because the only thing running is my hope, and by that, I mean that it is running out.
The past few weeks have seen to have an excessive amount of lost in them. Several close friends of mine have had to leave my life (forced, their idea, or mutual ideas) and some just vanished to where ever people who aren’t me go. A lot of those gone have in fact been a strong back bone for me, but at the same time, I noticed that subtly while their lives changed, or progressed I was still dealing with much of the same. In one event, while sorting through papers one insomniac night, I found a letter from her to me asking for forgiveness. Which I guess I granted because we remained friends. Pity me as the fool then. Now and days, I can recognize the amazing in people, and think well this is not a person that I should know or get to know more intently. Just because one is forgiven doesn’t mean that forget should be doled out in like proportions. It is ok to say “Ok, I forgive you but I can not be your friend under these capacities or circumstances.” Or more pointedly, “Bounce Bitch.”
I’m not really done, but while Obama, Clinton, Clinton et al, prophesize about “change” and other wonderful things, I tangibly worry about my next paycheck, and how I will be able to move out of a horrible situation. Obama is said to be working hard at winning the blue collar workers over, to help those dealt the awful hands of differentiated economies and people. He is said to be able to help the middle class. But what about those who haven’t made it there yet, and think of giving up the dream of making it?
