November 13th, 2007

Roman

On all those other sides to the story

When I worked as a planner I saw more than two sides to just about every story. Hardly any decision is a clearcut "good" or "bad" one. Usually there are elements of both in all decisions, however great or terrible they appear on the surface.

Because I know this from long experience I sometimes appear wishy-washy or undecided. I like to know more before I jump onto any bandwagons with both feet. Unfortunately, this isn't how this country works. Everything is in 30-second sound bites - or less. Yes, one can get a greater response from the public by framing a situation in simple terms and defining it as purely good or evil. But one doesn't get informed action. I like informed.

When Dianne Feinstein voted in favor of Mukasey I was angry. I went to her website and read her letter explaining her action. She believes that his whole testimony indicates he would make a good attorney general, in spite of his comments on waterboarding. On balance she felt he was a good candidate and there was likely to be no better one. I may not agree with her but I didn't hear all that she heard. Neither did most of America. I can't say that he's going to make a terrible attorney general. I haven't done enough reading or listening to form a good opinion.

What disappoints me is that I feel I can't trust any of the groups that represent my interests, not all the time. All of them have tendencies to skew the facts to make things simple. And I am not interested in simple. I want as much information as I need to get a clear picture. When I got an email from the Courage Campaign, the goals of which I wholeheartedly support, asking me to censure Feinstein for voting the way she did, I was really pissed. Why can't we put our efforts into bringing down this corrupt administration instead of taking little pricks at people who at least act legally?
Roman

what a sorry sort

I have to admit that I can find problems even in the most idyllic situation if I let myself. Today I am letting myself whine about the pain in my right hand, probably a surge of arthritis there. I also feel rather tired and achey, maybe getting a cold. I look in the living room and see paper strewn about, cut in various galands by my grandson and taped to the walls and whatever else will have it, and I see cut magazines (I started that trend) and tissue paper bits. The dining table is piled with clothes I just folded, the kitchen counter has various crafy projects spread out on it.

A part of me is freaking out. Mess! OMG, as the grandson would say. Can I get it cleaned up all right? Has he done any permanent damage? And me, I hurt, and someone should feel sorry for me. I also fret that I can't think, can't concentrate, with others commanding my attention, either directly or indirectly. I make the excuse that I can't get stuff done because I am being interrupted.

And yet and yet. How many people can look around  at their new home, all new, and enjoy the company of a bright strange little grandson, and have the time to fret about the arthritis, and be able to take bike rides near the ocean, and to write journal posts about whatever I like...?