While I do not condone all that destruction, ever, I can also see a point to it. Think about it. They were spreading the grief. I might not want to dwell on Grant's murder, but if someone smashed in my windows, and otherwise destoyed things that are integral to my everyday life, I can't continue to be complacent.

A death is a helluvalot more disruptive than that amount of destruction. I hope that it helps people sympathyze with the rioters and everyone greiving for grant, and everyone greiving for the system and the continued racial discrimination.

In a punishment based system such as the one we have, that police man should get punished to the greatest amount under the law.

Really we need intervetion. We don't have the infastructure for that. We could, though.

And I am amused. Yana and I had an interesting conversation. Just to remind myself that I am amused. Not you. You don't need to know. :P

So. I really like the Movie legally blond, and this is why:

I like people. I am not annoied by Elle's ditzy behavior. Everyone acts some way for a reason. Her behavior, while potentially ingratiating, is more productive and healthy than some. For example- she is positive and optimistic. She isn't phazed by people not thinking well of her. When something doesn't go her way, she shakes it off with a smile. At one point in the story, a bitter law student, vivian, tells her about a "costume" party. When she comes to the door in her ridiculous playboy bunny outfit (with neon pink stockings) and sees that everyone there is dressed in their bland everyday college clothes (I think they made the clothes extra bland for contrast), she is halted, blinks, opens and closes her mouth a couple times, and then throws back on her friendly smile and walks in with an air of confidence. Peoples laughs aren't getting to her. I think that its harder for someone to be malicious to someone that friendly, smiley and confident. Sure, they might think the person is utterly ridiculous, but what are you going to do.

I respect that, I guess cause it reminds me of myself. I don't have a lot in common with Elle. She may be ridiculous, but, well, I would be more likeley to think of ways in which we are similar than you. I mean, is it actually less worth her time to be interested in fashion, skin and hair care and nails as it is for me to be interested in art, music, and being silly, or adventuring? Adventuring doesn't exactly accomplish more.

But that was not the direction I wanted to go. NO matter how much I try to find similarities between other people and myself, I wont nessesarily like a movie that way.

The movie makes me want to go to law school. I know better. My mom was a lawyer. Its not a party. I don't even nessesarily beleive in the legal system. But, it is a feel good movie. It makes me feel, and part of this is the fault of the music, like I can do anything. It makes me want to be studiing. I do, actually, want to take a law class right now. I do like it. NO law school, but I could find a class to sit in on next semester. Part of the fault of that is the plot. If a ditzy sorority girl can bring herself to have that much determination... and just be so happy! I am not consistantly happy. I wish I was. It would be nice to not second guess myself all the time, whether the reason of not second guessing be due to actual knowledge, or blinding myself to all other options, it would still be nice.

I know I don't like desisions. But, one of the only wise bits of advice my dad has ever given me went something like: you don't have to make the best ever desision. Just make a good one.

Richard called while I was out with Mary Dougherty learning to drive, but my phone was at home, so I got this message:

"Hey, Mackenzie, this is your fake-dad calling. I am in Oregon, dancing away, contra and zydeco, and I've been dancing with this young woman, who is maybe, 1 or two years older than you, and I think you would totally fall in love with her if you had the chance to meet her. I told her the same about you. So, you can call me back if you want, and I can tell you more about her. Her name is Katie, she lives in Portland."

My order of thoughts went: 1) Why is he telling me this, this is so random, portland is far away. 2) Aww, thats sweet, he is actually acknowledging that I'm bi. That's kind of awesome. that makes him so much more worthy of fake fatherhood. 3) Why did I not know about this dance weekend? this sounds awesome! zydeco! 4) *visions of fun and dacing and zydeco.* It has been so long since I've been to a dace weekend.

I guess I might call him back. He might know what he is talking about. (I am reminded of cos)


IN OTHER NEWS:

Chapter 3: "Mackenzie drives on Sacramento" - Mary.
Mary has this habit of narrating when I do something awesome and new: Mackenzie drives stick shift and Mackenzie drives in third.

I drove home from North Berkeley Bart, and around in that neighborhood a bit, with signaling and shifting into 3rd a lot, and only turning on a windsheild wiper once, and stopping to find the horn to honk at a raven eating something out of the middle of the street (the raven, not me), and not hitting J-walking pedestrians, and giving ride of way and all sorts of nfty law-abiding. Stick-shift is a great way to be sure you are not exceeding the speed limit, to a degree.

I also did a smidgen of parallel parking, and actually did two three point turns on city streets.

I made one guys day by waiting for him to cross the parking lot before he even got out of a different crosswalk and over the barracade toward the next area. He was laughin up a storm quite amiably, and me, needing to respond somehow or another while sitting there, put my moose ear antlers up the apples of my cheeks and wiggled my fingers. He laughed harder, and said, "Thank you for making my day!" Mary and I were laghing up a storm too. She likes to laugh so we were laughing a lot of the time, at, things the WERE genuinely quite funny. Like honking at the raven. It didn't understand horn, mary said, maybe it understands car. It did. I inched up a foot and it fluttered away.

BUt hey, AWESOME!

p.s. the two of us are such nerds that we sing while we are driving. Mary matches the cars pitches, like a kid with a toy car (or she did when she was learning), and I make sound effects.

Metal music blasting to make the traffic seem more exciting.
Individual people in individual SUVs, on a road from nowhere to nowhere, where individual people live, surrounded by all that space.

He drives up his own big white drive way. Beep-beep. Locks the car. chuck-clink. opens the door. He stands there for a moment and takes a deep breath. His house is dark. He stayed late at work. "Wouldn't have done anything if I were home" he thought to himself. The sound of his own thoughts startled him. The sound of the shutting door startled him.

He opens the door. His wife walks into sight with the baby in her arms, and she is just looking at him. the dog comes running, and he can by the sound, it's nails need a trimming. He holds in a sigh. It is only 5:30, a long time until 7:30 the next morning.

The stairs echo as he heads up to his tiny, messy apartment. Just him, so he never bothers to clean it. Well him and the dog. Companion. Sometimes he felt guilty to the dog that he didn't do anything other than work, play games, and jack off, basically. He wondered how long that life would last, and what would happen next. He had to hand it to the dog, he didn't judge.

He still couldn't get used to the dog not running up to his car in the evenings. he had killed the mother fucker, but he didn't actually expect it to stop barking at him. He just expected it to stop shitting. The world felt a lot emptier without that extra noise.

Noise. There has been a baby crying every three hours, for about an hour for a week or so. But I just realized I haven't heard it since yesterday. It wasn't a loud crying, it didn't bother me. It was nice to have the company. I think it had been going a little longer than a week even.

"I'm not in middle school anymore," she thought. "Graduation was yesterday. But I still woke up at 7." HUngry, she wandered into the kitchen to see if there was any breakfast, but the cereal had bugs in it. This was why she always ate at school in the morning. She started to try to brush her hair into their usual puffy pig-tail poofs, when the T.V, left on by her father, decided to do an emergency test tone. The blue washed dirty pile, complete with hostess wrappers and Coors bottles, partially unearthed itself, and found her with it's eyes. "Hey, daughter, change the channel for me will you? And can you get me something to eat while you're up?"
"NO dad I've got to go to school," She heard the apartment door close before either of the had a chance to think about it.

He sits at the computer. Nothing is interesting. Not his girlfriend. Not high school, nothing he is studying, nothing he is reading. Once again, another day, and nowhere to go. And he just sits and stares at the button that links him to the internet. To porn, and television, but not anyone else who is going to care about him. He decides to try and time how long he can sit there doing nothing.

He hadn't ridden a bike since his college days. Take a bike to work, he thinks, it'll revolutionize my life. He gets on the bike, in his suit, and feels the free-est he's ever felt. Like he is flying. His muscles are moving, but unlike in the gym, the actually care. He didn't think muscles could care. He could feel a grin on his face. He couldn't wait to share the grin with his co-workers, like a small gift, like how you want to share flowers and sea shells and squirrels. And he thought he could feel wings growing out of his back he was so happy. And that was what he was thinking when a car side swiped him. He got a little death notice blurb in the paper, and the office hired a different computer programmer. He was getting old anyways, they said. What was he doing out there on that bike anyhow, they said.

The new baby sat in its crib, silently awake and alone for it's nap time. Just staring at things. There was only so much to look at. "How is this blanket put together?" it thought, in, you know, not words. "I don't know. Interesting. Hey maybe I can pick off more of the wall paper."

I have anxiety about the passage of time. I'm sure I have previously realized this and pointed it out.

I say this because I was thinking about how I was trying to overcome the anxiety I have about wasting time, because I have noticed that beating myself up about wasting time causes me to feel unhappy, and ultimately causes wasted time. I'm better off happily reading a book for a few hours, especially if it is a good book.

And I can make myself feel ok about spending a few hours reading, but then when I think about work, responsibilities, and other human beings who may need me to do something in some sort of time frame, I freak out.

I try not to. When I succeed long enough to make a phone call, or start something that needs doing, nothing bad happens. In fact, the end result is often both satisfying and gratifying. And yet, the idea of returning to the moving beeping judging world with other people in real time is stressful.

I think that this is where I get my anxiety from: the above dealing with people etc. Those days I am stressed and depressed and I can't figure out why? This is probably quite related.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make. Like a competent person.

I like paying attention to myself, my reactions to things, my emotions and thought processes.
I like paying attention to the above in humanity.
Ilike paying attetion.
I like thinking and talking and brainstorming about how to interact with people and how to change things and current events and different mindsets especially.

I am happy to see Geneveive Jasper, who is here right now, and with whom I enjoy talking.
I am happy to see em and kevin.

I want to get to know Avery and Joey better.
Faire was fun. People are fun.
Tactile.
Some people don't understand people as well as they think/are cocky/don't get no-ish cues.

I don't quite know what to do with myself with a cleaner room. My life is so much simpler, because I am not feeling pressured to clean it.

There are too many causes in the world for me to not feel apathetic towards some of them at least a little.

I like feeling appreciated a whole lot. I also like attention. related are my obsessions with being competent and useful.

Talked to a friend from georgia, slipped in some non aggressive counter argument to having bunches of kids, and her dislike of feminism and annoyance at deviance from gender roles.

"Wow! your points are very well said! That's wonderful that you like to build
things and be yourself! Let nobody clip your wings! I think you should
write, your speech is very flowery! ^.^

What you wrote made me think...maybe feminism isn't extremely horrible in
some cases. ladies and gentleman should be allowed to pursue their dreams if
that is what they want to do."


For the win indeed.

I am distressed. Here is why: I was biking down the street, market street, when I saw the kid being screamed at, on his own porch. He stumbled out of the door, facing the door and this woman was leaning out screaming at him, and then she went inside and he was just standing there. I was watching him as I biked past and then I pulled over and watched him as he watched me. I crossed the street. We were still watching each other, and he looked so sad. He hadn't learned to harden his face yet so it was so vulnerable, and it was a familiar look that I remember wearing.

He watched me walk towards his porch. When I got within ear shot, I said, "are you ok?" No response, just sadness, looking at me. I waved. Hi there. I walked onto his porch. "Are you ok?" He said, "I don't think you are supposed to be on the porch." He was more trusting of my presence than I'd think. I felt sort of trusted anyways. He was so sad I almost felt like I could have gotten away with giving him a hug, but probably not cause he didn't know me. I could hear his mother or whoever (some one he trusts and loves I think) angrily screaming still and hitting someone. I told him the look on his face is familiar. I couldn't think of what to say to him. I wanted him to leave the place, but where would he go. I turned to go back down the stairs of his porch and I said, "take care of yourself, ok?" I shot him one last imploring look and then biked away heartbroken.

Until I was nearly home the address ran though my head, over and over again, and the image of that boy, and the look on the face. But mostly the address, like a mantra, like a song over and over and over, almost desperate inside of my head.

I was almost biking blindly, noticing the stop signs and peripherally the other cars but in a dream like way, cause they didn't have the same meaning the usually do. The stop signs were like kind red souls who wouldn't say a thing to me.

I kept imagining hugging the boy, bringing him with me maybe on the handle bars, raising him. I imagined, as I was walking in the door to my home, having him at my side and saying to emily and friends, this is so and so. Not explaining why. And then I'd make him cookies. But I wouldn't be a great mother at this point in my life unless I seriously changed the way I live.

I mean, what do you do? Call CPS? Foster care is not necessarily an improvement. He might resent it. Anyhow, there just aren't the facilities and the people to properly care for and love every child out there, and I hate it.

And then, after shoving him haphazardly though the system, he'll probably end up hard hearted and broken and in jail. . If you talk to the people on death row, that little boy is what their childhood looks like. And I was home in my happy beautiful loving home and it felt so unfair. I wanted that for him.


I think I'll be a foster parent when I am older.

I am better now, I am happy. Cool air blows accross the hardwood floor, and my clean bare feet pick up the dirt and dust as I scamper up stairs smiling to myself- I am not tired.

Liquid floral emotions are leaking quickley from her cello, so many colors and tones, and it is made more intense by the large metal mute she was using to not wake me or Kevin.

I'm downstairs now, and I can still hear her. It is so beautiful.

Instead of napping, I read a story about a rabbi and his cat. This rabbi follows all the rules strictly, and has a lot of issue when his daughter marries a french man, and questions god, and all sorts of things happen, but on the last page the rabbi has returned home to algeria, and instead of a sermon, he tells his congregation of men that he doesn't see why they had to follow the torah if one could be quite happy without doing so. I really liked this, I can't explain why in a way to make anyone care. But the story refreshed my energy and happiness. Perhaps there was a message to not worry so much.

I've been thinking of life in terms of GO. I think of a situation in terms of making life. Visually, in the air in front of me, I see the placement of stones- two eyes. Thats all there is, two eyes. Perhaps it can expand from there, maybe not.

I can't explain why I make the connection. Perhaps it is that I am not sure there is every a purpose to anything; everything is in flux and stability seems so arbitrary.

Its about free will, perhaps. Everyone is just doing SOMETHING, because without that they'd be doing nothing. But why, and what? And then there is this need to survive that we have to take care of. We have to get a job, shelter, food. It hurts my brain- when I look at the picture it makes, it is so empty. So many peoples lives feel so empty to me. Run from job to job and raise a child, or sit on the street day after day to get some change, buy a burrito, and a 40, find a spot to lay down at night.

What bothers me is perhaps the lack of connection, like I could just leave at anytime, that anyone could.

What keeps coming up in my thoughts is a question, the age old question, what is the meaning of life. It feels so pointless. There are many things worth living for: Joy, Math, People, Investigating curiosities, the rest of the world and the people in my neighborhood. But what does that worth mean? What scale is that worth measured on?

So I keep going back to thinking of GO, in some incomprehensible way. I really don't know why.

Things I saw today, in reverse order:
A guy successfully picking up a girl, a short conversation: number first, then name, and the spelling of, and then a discussion of maybe meeting up tomorrow. Weird.
A christmas light plastic statue of a reindeer and sled sitting on a roof. The reindeer was laying on its side.
I met a bus driver who loves his job, absolutely and totally. He used to run a small buisness, and then worked for a company but was layed off when the dot com thing crashed? Apparently. The he went to work as a bus driver and absolutley loves it. We had a nice long conversation about doing the things one loves. He was hard to understand, but that was ok.

I am tired, unfortunatly, and have been very tired recently.

I've noticed that on occaision I am quiet, reserved, possiby antisocial, but most importantly with nothing important to say, especially out loud. Like right now. I would be unable to have a conversation with anyone, especially a stanger. You know, this seems unusual for me. I'm always talking to stranger, and making friends with everyone. If I could get a job doing that, I would be good at it. Some people think I have a gift for getting strangers to tell me their life stories, some think that I know a god deal of people everywhere i go, and on multiple occaisions friends have brought me to smoething as their token extrovert.

Then there are these times which aren't particuarily infrequent. that i don't want to be around people. Instead, I want to hole up on my lonesome and study something. (I love to learn things. :) Too bad I don't like to practice anything.)


Yesterday I was at Ann's wedding. Ann is Loren's mom. I had a great time. I only knew 4 people: Ann and John, and Loren and Kelly, but there were so many wonderful old people there. There was this old woman, in drag (more than half of the women were in morning suits), who dances like I do: utterly... um... crazy. So much energy. Her name was Rock and most likely she was in her 40s or 50s. But, if you neglect a few wrinkels, her body was ageless. Sigh. So much fun. We were dancing up a storm.

There is a lot of traffic coming out of santa cruz, but not too muc going in, and I am glad, I am ready to be off of this thing called a bus. Bus bus bus bus bus.

I used to be sure everyone was depressed, because I could imagine anything different from how I felt. I also never understood how people could get things done.

All I have to say is, "Oh."

Oh Man, I just biked HELLA far! Emily and I biked to sleep train pavilion in concord (my 'brilliant' idea) to Funk B and da U-turns...
However, leaving at 5, we got there at 7:15ish and missed them. Biking in concord is quite ridiculous. I'm prtty sure the city planners hatebkes there. Also, it makes no sense. There are SOOOO many stores, but nothing to do.

Oh man, I had inciteful and interesting thing to say, but I've forgotten them, bexause it is nearly one, and I'm tired.

Oh, i remember one of the things.

One day is very short, and no matter what you do, you don't do very much in a day, and nothing really matters. And, that factis what allows you to have fun. We don't have much time, and there wont always be another day in which to get work done, or responsibilities taken care of, but there also just wont alway be another day, especially if you do the same thing every day 9Work or school or something), because you do the smae thing every day, going, I can work on a painting next week, go on that vacation next ear, and before you know it, you are fourty, have been at the same job 9-5 5 days a week for years, and have't been on an adventure ever, because before adulthood, parents are protective, and after adult hood, you are thrust out to be on your own, essentially alone, and are forced to gert a job to even have smoe miniscule hope of having health insurence, and even then you might not. And then you work and work, and meet some person at a party or bar, or online, and after a few months of dating, maybe a couple years if you are prudent, and you think you cn still sorta stand the person, you buy one of the box-off-the-shelf-of-the-grocery-store-cracker-jack-box-single-family-home house, in their little house lots, full of houses, with nothing to do, and have a kid, and then the process goes all over again.

Everyone is bored and has no idea what they are doing. I feel really sad for concordinans (haa, accordians!) We stopped in a bowling alley for water, and every one looked like the 80s, and this girl or about 5 was trying to get water from the water fountain, although she was too short, and her mom yelled at her, saying it was yucky water, and the water in her I-am-adverstising-coca-cola-paper-cup-wth-plastic-lid-and-straw was "better" water. It was likeley the same water. The little girl looked about to cry.

HI.

I just got back from a school board meeting. It was a pretty exciting meeting, especially on SB meeting standards, but on everyday whatever standards as well.

Right now I feel efficient, motivated, exhilarated, content, excited for life and my future, full of sufficient spirit and hope... positive adjectives of functionality.

I might attribute this to feeling a part of the legislative process, and of school- the establishment, and my district. Education is something I care deeply about, and I also care deeply about being involved, building community, making student's lives better, and vicariously making everyone's lives better, in the whole world as a system of many inter-influential communities.

I feel as though I spoke fairly well, and concisely considering I had only 3 minutes, and many of my cohort of Independent studies Teachers, Students, and Parents also spoke very well and presented good points.

For the most part, I think we realized that the school board is our ally, against the budget cuts being imposed by a mindset that approaches taxes like an end-all worse thing. It makes no sense, but we all know that.

We went to address the proposed reduction in I.S's program coordinators hours, in addition to a 20% increase on her work load. Evelyn Bradley is amazing, truly. She works all the time trying her hardest. That program of nearly 200 students is run by two people alone. ALONE. Evelyn writes the college recommendations, lends an ear when people are sad, having trouble at home etc, knows every ones name, is a go-getter who never gives up and always has a smile on her face, though she has to put up with so much complication. I could go on, but you get the idea. It also might would sink the already under funded, neglected, yet nonetheless, integral, inspirational, and whatever that word I was going to use... program.

I am also going to Protest My governor's budget tomorrow, bright and early, and my brother is coming with, for which I am quite joyed. I biked all the way to his work tonight to talk to him about it, and got a coffee and a sandwich (free) and went over what I would say at the meeting earlier tonight, and I finally got everything worked out for tomorrow after the meeting.

As I was biking home, and feeling great, and intelligent, and well-respected and optimistic etc, and I realized that I really like being out and about alone after dark, between like 7 and 12, getting things done. Not inside necessarily, or at a scheduled event, but at a table, or in a park, or biking, or at a meeting.

During the day I prefer to be at home, or in the library, or somewhere new, either with people I don't know, or with a community, or interested people doing work, or around no one at all.

I don't like to day in and day out be around people who are stuck in a system, and hate it, and may not even realize what is out there, and where they have let their reality fall, in such a way that all these people (students in classes of thirty, teachers with no time), are slowly killing themselves, becoming zombies, becoming uninteresting, and becoming people (I don't remember where I was going with this sentence) ... Who are uninspired, detrimental, lackluster, depressing, There are so many ways to finish that sentence.

Oh, I was going to say that when I am around such people I would much rather be sleeping.

I was thinking that wanting to be alone- out at night, home during day, was because I don't like people, but thats not the case, so I am glad that that is resolved.

Oh- I also played Hacky-sack today, and was dressed in amazing stripy-ness. And, discovered that while I am very good at publishing processi, and programs, in the case of a year book, it is mind-numbing, and demanding of my creativity which does not stem from a numb mind, and I did that from 1pm until nearly 6, came home for a minute, showered, and left again.

Is it possible to kiss a person passionately without it being sexual?

The death of an Idea.
The death of a dream.
A charred grave site, an open wound to the world.

And I'm not so sure the open air will heal it...

I went to church this morning. I've been thinking about God lately, though not intentionally. Somehow it comes up in conversation, and I am not so inclined to identify myself as not Christian, or to denounce God as those around me do. I've been missing something, though I am not sure what.

I did not plan to go to church. I've had a slow morning. I had breakfast, and sat around, and wished Barb a happy birthday, a few days late. I don't really know actually. It is funny where our mornings go. Perhaps when I die, all the unused mornings will coagulate into one big jelly of sunshine and niceness, and I will have a picnic on a red and white checked cloth.

I didn't really want to do anything around the house this morning. I would have taken a shower, but I did that yesterday. So, I decided to take a short walk and buy myself some ice cream. I live a couple blocks from convenience liquor stores in any direction- it is as if someone had a protractor with a two block radius, and a pencil whose graphite was actually made of marginally successful business.

But instead of going to any one these stores, I thought I'd like a longer walk. I set out west, with the idea that I would actually walk all the way to grocery outlet, buy a whole tub of ice cream for a dollar if I was lucky, and then eat it on the way back. By the time I got to San Pablo park, I was feeling less ambitious.

I walked through the park, and when I got to the other side, I heard music. There was a tiny, dinky, run-down little church on the corner, in the middle of residence, and orphaned streets. I only say it is on the corner because the street it is sort of on got confused and lost, and curled up into itself like the tail of a rejected dog.

The gospel music attracted me, because I missed church. I wandered onto the doorstep and peered into the window. I could see the choir. There were three older woman smiling, laughing, singing, swaying back and forth and clapping their hands. One of them had a tambourine. One of them was wearing a long, worn out t-shirt. This was the choir.

I looked in the window for a good minute, and then, worried that they would see me, became self consioud and backed away. I stood on the step for a minute listening. Then, right as I was about to walk away, the pastor, or deacon or someone came outside and invited me in to sit down.

So I did. The congregation was about 10 people I'd guess. A few of them were dressed up in solid bright colored dress suits, with matching hats. I wonder what god thinks of dressing up. I decided they were like god's birds. I don't know what that means- I just thought of it.

I stayed for a while, but left before the sermon, because I would have felt trapped.

I bought ice cream on the way back.

So I was cleaning my room, at close to 11pm, and all of a sudden I am in a good mood.

OMG I love people.

I'm talking to Laura Gorrin online, and listening to music. I should obviously do both more.

Seriously, music as an auditory stimulant seems to be important. I would become depressed if I went deaf.

My EC is awesome. Her name is Diana Dorinson. For those who don't know, an EC is the person MIT assigns to conduct an interview with applicants. Called the educational counselor, they are meant as a resource for question asking.
I think she is awesome. I've talked to her twice. Both times I am awkward to say goodbye, because I feel connected to her. You know, like she is just a cool friend of mine. BUt there is something about the nature of the reason for interacting that causes me to not be able to allow any promise of further interaction. I want to be able to say, talk to you soon. BUt... yeah. There isn't exactly that opening.

Anyhow, she is awesome.