My cousin Lanni said to me the other night, "You know Sara, you used to be a lot of fun." I laughed to myself thinking she had it all wrong, I still am a lot of fun, but I began to perspire at the thought that perhaps I have indeed allowed the negativity to grab hold of me by the throat and drag me around barely breathing. If this is true, than it is imperative to remove Bush from office not only for numerous security reasons but for my own sanity as well. Please, visit the polls on election day, November 2004, for your own emotional well-being, if not mine. It may be taking a toll without being recognized.

Candidate Sara rambles for a moment:

There is something inherently wrong with capitalism; food goes to people who can pay for it, one half to three fourths of sub-Saharan Africa lives in 'absolute poverty' and I wonder how much food is wasted each day…simply thrown away without a second thought.

(Note, if you will, that my opinion is that of a twenty something philosopher of pop culture raised on Cool Ranch Doritos and Honey Nut Cheerios, so I won’t take offense if you pay no heed, but if you would be so kind and offer your mind to these words I’ve written and hit me back with some constructive criticism it might help me in the long run.)

Forgive me if I’m stating the obvious, but here are just a few reasons I thought better of allowing Bush to strike again for the presidency. Myself, I’ve never given too much thought about this office other than the fact that I am beset by so many old white men with fancy suits and ties to match pretty bank accounts and trophy wives. I often fantasize about the power elite, the prearranged core at the head of this class war, media monopoly and military gusto, interconnected and indistinguishable, making deals at cocktail parties or on the green shooting for three under par and talking about the imperialistic war machine. How long has this been the tradition? If it’s these dudes who have been dictating our American values I think it’s time a new frame of mind was given some limelight, but the more I think about the apparent blatancy for a refreshing new outlook, I realize that the entire establishment would be in danger of collapse. The enterprise, as it were, would stand in imminent jeopardy were the lumpen proletariat to collectively scrutinize this society spectacle*. Perhaps western civilization hasn’t quite reached its' impasse. Perhaps it’s necessary to wrap itself forcefully around the entire globe, suffocating this sphere we call home, so that no man, woman or child can rest in peace without being tormented under the warped ideas of our "freedom" and "liberty."  The world is at war, people die poor, and over here in good ol' America we're taught to want more, more, more.  Maybe it will take awhile longer to even the score of dissenters who thought better of this way of life.

(President of my university cuts a progressive liberal arts program benefiting hundreds of buoyant youth optimistic for global change opposing the scandals of westernization and neo-liberalism, and instead, this prez proudly funds a multi-million dollar snack house home to McDonalds and Panda Express, to name two amidst the filth of fast food.  President of my university assigns designated areas, conveniently plotted lots of grass, to voice dispute rather than encouraging students to actively and continuously question, discuss, analyze and probe every situation at all times--silence sweeps inquisition under the rug of perceived order.  President of my university invites kickbacks from large corporations to conduct research on campus as well as maintaining the thriving military presence never letting me forget as I walk to class under the screams of fighter planes flying overhead, and eventually I become weary.)

…Sometimes the principle of the matter is the sulfur on the match that sets me ablaze and for that reason I impulsively walk away from the public institution without any regard for my past and future knowing that somehow I am doing the right thing...

Attempting to remain afloat in this technocratic influx of appropriations and meta-appropriations, my life seems a representation of what or whom I see on TV or the big screen or a billboard, another product whore saluting the magnificent spoils of the American commodity system, bred to consume, already a target market by the time I could crawl, branded by big name corporations, peering down hollow aisles, fluorescent possessions trying to pierce my pocketbook like an x-ray machine.  I’m wearing the lead cloak of poverty and my pocketbook is empty. Caught in the catch-22 of Sam Walton's American Dream, too poor not to shop at the superstore supporting sweatshops, driving out mom and pop from their general store just down the block.  Tick tock, the clock is turning on and off work days and weekends.  My grandma tells me, "Sara, someday you're going to have to answer to the boss. That's the way it is." But Grandma, why this--the boredom of modern life, the anxiety and emptiness this system perpetuates, doctor's offices full of patients depressed, needing a lift, Prozac fix, cookie-cutter subdivisions, copy of a copy of a copy--anyone else want out of this?

George Bush senior, accepting his nomination for president, proclaimed, "This has been called the American Century because in it we were the dominant force for good in the world…Now we are on the verge of a new century, and what country’s name will it bear? I say it will be another American Century."

My younger sister was born in ’88 when I was almost six years old, the year these arrogant words were broadcast. This was before my memories of the radar, glowing green, plastered across national television screens, scenes depicting a war half a world away, where there appeared no blood or gore from my safe living room arena, innocently enticed by these war games. This was just before the economic sanctions our government placed upon Iraq in hopes that Saddam would crack only to cause suffering for people already poverty stricken, unable to provide their children with adequate food and water supplies. We tightened the grip and Saddam rationed food while living lavishly in his many palaces, didn’t appear to be starving or dying from cancer caused by depleted uranium that we dropped on his country, blowing seeds of radiation that soon infested that nation. And now that I’m old enough to employ my right to vote, it doesn't even seem to matter anymore as I witness yet another bold attempt to rid the world from this ruthless oppressor. Shocked I watched in awe, dumbstruck by the horrific scenes of cities burning in the name of liberation while a handful of viewers near me actually seemed pleased, smugly replying with outdated rhetoric, "My country tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, let freedom ring," This, their justification for murder? 

My country, my own life, said to be in danger, a new kind of war, that on terrorism, I should support my president’s plea for more money to spend on death squads, bombs and state-of-the-art jets produced by big business Boeing and Raytheon, world leaders in weapon technology raking in billions by strategically eradicating the 'other' from the binary of rich vs. poor. Thought fear-mongering was illegal, but it seems Tom Ridge is getting away clean even setting up websites like www.getready.org to promote his propaganda, urging the purchasing of necessary protective provisions like plastic window coverings and duct tape, you know, just in case. This reminds me of old Cold War clamor, now turning our very own home into a nuclear fallout shelter.

I am scared, but not because Al-Qaida or Saddam will be knocking on my door with an envelope of anthrax, no, I’m scared of my very own government and the authorities that patrol claiming to "serve and protect." I’m scared of talking too loud, pissing off the majority crowd or Mr. Ashcroft who may not believe my ideas fit within the slim spectrum of his Patriot Act that has been ever-so-swiftly stripping me of my so-called rights. Will we have a repeat of the gruesome scenes during the Nixon scheme? “Young people speakin' their mind; gettin' so much resistance from behind.” I walk the lonely streets talking to laid-off laborers filing for unemployment, discouraged and giving up the fight to find more work, desperate for a job, any job, busting their asses until bent over with back aches, working till their late sixties and seventies just trying to make rent 'cuase our social security's been spent. I cringe when I hear conversations about the lazy poor who are only afflicted due to lack of commitment or brains, seemingly slumming it by choice, while the ivy leagues enjoy tea religiously every Sunday. These intellectuals dehumanized, desensitized and socialized, internalizing the filter devices that reward conformity and obedience.

My public education, come to think of it, was all, if not most, one big vacuum, tried to, teachers unintentionally abetting, zap the creativity from this tender brain altering life into the warped mundane, trailed like an ant surrendering reason to the queen of social hierarchy rebelliously conforming with a blinder on, I remember watching TV for far too long…rode that trolley until one day I got off and everything just stopped...slowing my footsteps I recognized the scenery of a familiar smile and laughter pulsed its way back into my toes until I skipped to my loo all the way home and packed my bags for the road, laughing at suits shaking their fingers, muttering ‘adapt-or-die’-like phrases hoping to scam or scare me into social obligations, surrendering to the captain without question,  my heart beats repression when I’d rather be climbing a tree or planting some vegetables to harvest...

Unborn fetuses seem to have more rights than most sentient beings tangibly surrounding me, myself included, and I think, “there's got to be some kinda way outta this...”

So here I am still besieged with right and wrong, try to keep on keepin’ on, knowing I’m not the only one, three million plus without jobs, I decide to apply for the big time and since I’m a long shot I hope to have the courage and the know-how to tell it like it is, at least how I perceive this reality I’ve been dealt, ain’t got no cards up my sleeve just a middle class girl feelin’ deceived by the present day quandary of a democracy delusion, contradictions from all walks of life...

My existance as a middle class suburbanite has been an easily paved super highway of disinformation. Trying to “Be Here Now” isn’t easy, meditating on fundamental sustainability, but I’ m thankful for the insight and idealism that have soulfully washed over the apathy this society often times creates lending to the conventional "wisdom" of indifference that makes my heart ache.

Here I stand, bright eyed and bushy tailed, caught a case of the American dreamer for almost six years consecutively ‘till sporadically fruition dawned on me as I bit into a genetically engineered slice of apple pie, Americanized fruit flies had been telling me lies, swarming and incessant until I walked away unhampered one day with a bit of my past still biting…took the scenic route and climbed up and down a mountain or two, looking over the synchronized peaks decided not to turn back preserving status quo and instead leaned into the cool breeze, allowing perfect life flow to rock me awake and steady...