quidditchgrrl: (facepalm)
So, today. Five years later.

Not much has changed for the better.

The terrorists didn't erode our safety, didn't compromise our freedoms. We did that ourselves, through complacency and a feeble sense that we deserve to be safe, just because we're Americans.

It seems like we're ready to believe anything, to give up our reasonable right to live our lives without government scrutiny, in pursuit of something no one is ever promised - tomorrow.

In my state, you can't walk down the street without being required to identify yourself. If you cannot produce papers, you can go to jail. This is supposed to fight terrorism.

It's an insult to every soldier currently fighting, to every civil servant serving, and to every last person who died on September 11, 2001. Heck, to anyone who has fought to uphold the Constitution of the United States.

Am I sad? Sure. Am I still angry? You bet. Do I feel safe? Less than I did before September 11, 2001, but not because of the threat of terrorism.

Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty or safety.
--Benjamin Franklin (or Richard Jackson, depending on your source)
quidditchgrrl: (Be the change you wish to see)
Let America Be America Again

By Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's,
Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's
We must take back our land again,

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!
quidditchgrrl: (Daaaamn!)
Okay, I have a question that is waaaay tmi, intimate, what have you.

It's a female issue, but fellas, feel free to respond it's for scientific purposes *cough* )

Feel free to respond anonymously; I don't have the l337 skillz to track with IP, so it's not off, but I gotta know!
quidditchgrrl: (War Isn't Trendy)
*salute* To all of the servicemen who have died in defense of this country, to all who have returned as different people, thank you.
quidditchgrrl: (*clings*)
So, I've been browsing Myspace.

I found:
My first "real" boyfriend (which made me laugh as he has not aged well, though the cool is still there)
My best friend from high school (which made me cry something fierce and I wish I could call him without his wife going psycho)
Several people I graduated with, one of whom is a lesbian (which makes sense, looking back)
A girl I was in Rainbow with, who has grown from a waif into a stunningly gorgeous woman

It's interesting how many people have Myspaces with nothing blogged on them. What's the point? There must be porn attached to having a Myspace, or something.

Also, spent a couple of hours chatting with [livejournal.com profile] chickadilly, which kept a lot of the tears at bay. I was checking into flights to Tampa today...but I just couldn't bring myself to think about the possibility. I'm just praying that [livejournal.com profile] redblaze keeps her fighting spirit.

Sorry to those of you not used to my angst. It's the distance - Florida is a damn long way away when a friend is seriously ill.

Hugs and love to:
[livejournal.com profile] rachet
[livejournal.com profile] photosenesis
[livejournal.com profile] didi75 (hit the coffee shop, for your own sanity!)
[livejournal.com profile] avidbeader *gentle hugs*
[livejournal.com profile] courtney_beth (hopefully going to TCR helped!)
And anyone else who may be in need...*hugs*
quidditchgrrl: (facepalm)
I have decided that I have to view what is going on along the Gulf Coast (because it's more than NO that's affected) as though it's a movie; otherwise my head will explode from pure, unaduterated rage.

People in the United States of America should not be dying of exposure and dehydration 3 days after a disaster when we can mobilize and provide relief on the other side of the world within 24 hours. The head of FEMA says that his organization has no plan to deal with people who do not have bank accounts or check books. You know, because the only people who ever need federal disaster help are suburbanites.

Still, there are bright spots, like the young man who commandeered a school bus, picked up whoever he saw along the way, and drove to Houston. That's ballsy.

Gas prices are going up and it's possible that the economy may fall into a recession based on this disaster. But if there is one person out there who is willing to take control and do whatever has to be done to help his fellow man, then there has to be hope that NO will recover, whether it is rebuilt or not.

Night, y'all.
quidditchgrrl: (Fox News)
Free Maribel

11-year-old is charged with felony assault with a deadly weapon after she hits another child in the head with a rock.

*shakes head*  Although the charges were dropped in a plea agreement, the police still maintain that an 11-year-old should understand that her act might have had fatal consequences.

Anthropormorphizing children.  We'll be bringing capital charges against 11-year-olds next.  Oh, wait.
quidditchgrrl: (Let It Be)
My mom always loved this time of the year, when everything had sprouted and it was hot and humid and rain fell fast and furious and the sun dried the runoff into instant wavy creekbeds.

There was always enough shade and not a whole lot that needed to get done.  You could relax and let the day pass by.

I like to think that my mom wanted to wait for this time of year to leave, so that we wouldn't remember her passing with the horrible gloom that mid-winter brings, or the glittering false hope of spring.  I like to think she wanted to go when the sun was the highest, the days the longest, so that we'd remember an eternity of sunshine rather than dry falling leaves.

It's been five years and there are still times when I want to pick up the phone and share the mundane details of the day with her.  Or ask her some silly question that only she knows the answer to.

It's not fair to want her back.
quidditchgrrl: (GSA)
Re: The Pope.  When he wants your opinion, he'll give it to you.  /bad joke

I'm cutting this to spare non-traditional Catholic people upset.  Don't read this if you're upset about the new Pope.  Discussion is welcome, but don't say I didn't warn you.  I'm a nice person, but I do hold some rather unpopular opinions. )

But, I'm a moral relativist, so I wish he and his followers the best of times, and good luck with that some-people-aren't-people thing.  You're still people to me.
quidditchgrrl: (Whu?)
Cutting this to spare the uninterested my biased, half-assed opinion.

Controlling, overbearing and judgemental - it's no wonder )
quidditchgrrl: (Nice Guy by more_than_us)
It's no wonder I've been a little spacey and off this week, [livejournal.com profile] littletort has stolen mah brain.

First, she posted this, which is the best STFU of the week.  We've all made faux pas, people.  Say sorry and move on, kthx.

Then, this.  Since I don't have an OTP, I don't need a shipper's pledge.  I reserve the right to pout if Harry and Ginny get together.  Ick.

I had a near-homicidal moment today getting my lunch, and [livejournal.com profile] littletort helpfully posted guidelines for eating at Subway.  These should be posted in every sandwich shop, next to the obligatory picture of Jared.  Or not.

Kristen, please return my brain as soon as possible.  I need it to keep the urge to kill in check for work.  :D

In other news, I'm not worried about frienditto - I am the most unwanky person ever.  And on the rare occasion I lock a post, it's locked up tight enough that I know those folks' home addresses.  I love LJDrama as much as the next person, but if you're stupid enough to give a random site your LJ name and password you do join frienditto, don't expect me to trust you with anything, ever.  'Nuff said.  :>

Randomly:  I am the only person in my age group who doesn't think the Killers are the best thing since sliced bread.  When I saw them a couple years ago, I thought they were okay, but man, now...I can't get away from them.  Yargh.
quidditchgrrl: (Ravenclaw Pride by Leetje)
Well, good morning, 2005!  Here's hoping that this year will be better for all of you, because goodness knows for some of us it couldn't get much worse.

Resolutions?  Not many, although I did come to a conclusion about my current job last night.  Read more... )

The things I typically focus on at the new year are year-end reports and getting things started post-holiday.  Not much time for reflection or regret.

Fandom-wise, I am going to concentrate on my writer's block and try to post up some thoughts here without being a complete and total wanker.  Any advice from the peanut gallery?

And now that it's over, End of year meme for 2004 )
quidditchgrrl: (Default)
Yes, I live.  I'm upright for short amounts of time right now, getting through email and other things slowly but surely.  Eleven days in the pokey (God, literally, I look like a junkie) will do that to you.

And thank you, thank you, thank you for all your well-wishes and emails, means the world.

The shakedown: )
quidditchgrrl: (Heck Yes by so____)
Yes, it's me.  I am the one [livejournal.com profile] rainpuddle13 speaks of.

Well, not literally, of course.  But I am one of those people who invites everyone and their brother to anything that I am in charge of.  I admit it, I'm a party pimp.  We are a dying breed in this age of digital snobbery and smaller offices.

In our defense (or at least mine specifically), we are usually not fishing for gifts or starved for social interaction.  The goal is to fit as many people as acceptable into a space for food and fun.  Gifts are nice, but I have never (well, okay, I did send a wedding invitation to my sister's inlaws knowing that they are wealthy, but I always send them Christmas cards too) sent an invitation "fishing" for a gift.  Ever.

The reasoning behind inviting even the most tenuously-linked people to a get together is as varied as the type of party you're giving.  Sometimes, there *are* a lot of people to invite (weddings, GO receptions).  And other times you don't know how many people might be able to come on a popular night (like Halloween), so you over-invite to be sure more than 3 people show.  Then there are the times when you know you'll have to deal with people who don't like each other, so you try to create a buffer zone of other folks to keep everyone cheery.  At work, there are the usual office politics, so inviting everyone is an easy way to maintain the status quo.

I thought I'd let you all know that 99.999999% of party pimps don't mind if you don't send a gift.  We just want everyone to share and have fun.  So long as you give us a yay or nay to showing up, it's cool.

That other 0.000001% are just rude.

/Cultural Service Announcement
quidditchgrrl: (Ignorance bad by iconista)
Wow.  I'm commenting here because she's drowning in comments at the moment.

I'm not surprised.  I have my own FBI file (for working at a super-sekrit government contractor and having a clearance) and one with Homeland Security, and you'd better BELIEVE this doesn't sound out of the realm of possibility.

The government knows what my brother is doing every minute of every day, and that's gotten co-workers of his in trouble (not because of him, but because of the proximity of the person to my brother, and his coworker was overheard making comments that could possibly constitute a threat to the president). 

The Secret Service does not discriminate, because the above happened during the Clinton administration (I mean, in North Carolina there are right-wing nutjobs populating nearly every square inch, right?) with a hard-right coworker of his who said, "I'd like to put a bullet between his eyes."  Yeah, I'd give that as reason enough for a visit.

[livejournal.com profile] anniesj is now sadder but wiser, and very sensible about giving the virtual finger to the person who reported her by refusing to let this change how she uses her Constitutional rights.

What the original reporter - the person who reported [livejournal.com profile] anniesj - doesn't realize is that he/she also has an FBI file as well.  Yes, if you report "un-American" activity, you receive your very own file at no additional charge (or mention).  You may not go on a no-fly list, you may never hear directly from the Secret Service again, but your name and other information are filed into the database same as the "perpetrator".  I hope they think that's an even trade-off.  *cackles evilly*

This is feeding my paranoia )
quidditchgrrl: (just another girl with a LJ)
I got in on [livejournal.com profile] lissinthecity's post about love a little late, but it did get me to thinking.

There are many words one might use to describe my views on the subject. Cynical. Hard-hearted. Unromantic. Pessimistic. A misanthrope, if you will.

I don't believe in wuv, true luv, at least not in the sugar-coated, romantic, Pretty Woman kind of way, where a person can meet and just know that a person is THE ONE. Soul mates? Only of the same sex. Love at first sight? Gag me. A person who knows all of your hopes, dreams, fears, wishes, and dislikes, and loves you all the more for them? I'd run the other way as fast as I could.

Yep, I have a Honeybunch that I love dearly. We love each other and tell each other so every single day. But more importantly, we are each our own person. There's mutual respect of each other. When one asks a favor, the other performs the request, or explains why they can't get it done. Apologies are handed out on occasion when an agreed-upon request is not honored. If one of us forgets a request made by the other, we feel badly.

I'd never trade that for all the candy and flowers and jewelry in the world. If Honeybunch quit helping out around the house or ignoring me when I ask him to pick up milk or throw a load of laundry in, all the romanticism in the world could not make me love him. Honoring each other means respecting each other as a person, and honor and respect are tied inexorably with love for me.

Honor is not going out to dinner because my SO hasn't lifted a finger around the house for a month. Respect is not buying me a nice necklace when he can't be arsed to help with the kids.

That aside, Honeybunch is a romantic (who would have thought the woman completely unromantic and the male the fluffy partner) and I can handle that in small doses. But I can understand the irritation and feeling of suffocation one can feel with a person who cannot be without the other. When the other person needs you to be validated, a full person. Honeybunch isn't like that, thank goodness. He just needs some extra attention and hugs on the hour. :)

I like to spread my intimacies around. I have friends who know most everything about me, Honeybunch knows what he wants to know (and really, there are parts of every person that you don't care to know), and other friends that I can let loose with sides of my personality that I don't use every day. I'm a mess of contradictions, and I wouldn't wish upon any one person the task of deciphering all of them. That doesn't mean that love should be conditional, but that sharing every facet of oneself kills the mystery, doesn't it?

But then again, one could call me lucky. I've never felt completely unloved. Even when I was single, I never felt like there wouldn't be someone to love me. I just figured it would simply be a matter of time. I got involved with things I enjoyed, did what made me happy, and found someone who I could share my time with and who loved me back. I loved unconditionally, gave freely of my love to others, and received love in return. Now that's cheesy. :-P

So says PBG, lover of romantic novels.
quidditchgrrl: (Default)
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