Organizing My People

I cannot sleep, for obvious reasons, because I know what Wenatchee CPS is doing to me and my son is morally and legally wrong. They have done all this, while depriving me of a public defender besides. Imagine.

I decided to walk to the gas station to get some groceries. As I walked down the sidewalk, I passed several people on the street, sitting out on the porches.

Sort of looked like gang types. Black and hispanic, but hanging out together. They made a couple of "cummon girl" comments and I just nodded and walked by. Got my groceries, and as I was walking past again, the thought crossed my mind that these are the people.

The guy in the grocery store, with the bandana and the Mary t-shirt and cross, and baggy jeans, who was hispanic, and the black woman sitting on the porch having a smoke, and watching the others...sitting quietly and looking up at me to say hi.

These are the same people, who, like me, get screwed by this country and it's inadequate system. I thought to myself, I could organize them. Or, rather, I could inspire them to organize with me. Start with the people next to you. Start having meetings and get to know eachother with the common goal of turning the system in this country

UPSIDE DOWN.

Bottoms up.

Not that I don't have sympathy for the rich. I felt it, myself, tonight. I am moving to a nicer area. There is even a Nordstrom. There is a pool and a gym and secured entry, and a fantastic view. I realized, as I was excited to get into something, I was sad to leave something behind. I almost began to cry with a slight sadness and lonliness.

You can have everything in the world, that money can buy, and without love, no matter how poor and awkward it may be, you can be very unhappy and feel a certain emptiness. The contrast is greater. With so much, one would expect oneself to feel satisfied, and yet almost the opposite is true. It is the magnitude of riches that brings on the sadness. If there is love, the other things are a bonus. But money often creates lonliness and paranoia about whether people like you for you or for your money.

I felt the same way, almost, when I moved from a "hood-ish" area to Lake Oswego, in Oregon. I felt I was leaving the people I am meant to be with, behind. Then, I think, I felt guilty. I don't feel guilty now, I just remembered how it feels to have money or be around it, and it aroused my compassion for those who are rich and also happen to be very sad.

It is sort of what I was writing about in my "image" or poem about the woman curled up on the bed alone, surrounded with everything.