Sorry that it has been awhile since I have written anything, I have been slogging through the post graduation unemployment. Funds are dwindling, but I won't get a bailout because I live in a real world where you are punished by your situation, not praised. It is troubling to see the homeless here in DC with cellphones. Mine is about to be shutoff because I am back a few months on the bill and this homeless bag lady is ranting about cats on her phone. I feel like there are a lot of missing things here in the nation's capital.My favorite so far has been the unnatural obsession DCers have with President Obama. I have seen more ridiculous bumper stickers then I care to ever see. I think a good percentage of the cars here are being held together in parts by these propaganda badges. We get it, you support the ticket. You just know that half of these stickers were applied after the election and likely by people who didn't even vote. We all want to pick a winner, even if the winner is a cheat. You can always say later on, "I thought he was great, but when I found out the truth, it was nice to know that I didn't vote for him, so, don't look at me".
This sort of is life though, full of false prophets and false hope. We all want it so bad that we latch onto whatever is shiniest and full of the most promises. Then slowly the gold paint tarnishes and we are left with what is real. This is such a constant theme in politics, sports and fame. We turn away from believing in the little guy and putting all our betting chips on one person. Even if they are Superman, all our hopes on one person makes them vulnerable to everything. Instead of believing in American workers, we are now believing in one man and his cupboard full of Czars. We bailout one executive after another, and ignore the workers struggling at the bottom. Someone keeps their yacht while another loses their retirement.
Perhaps instead of seeing people wildly looking to the sky every time a marine helicopter flies over, screaming "Obama, Obaaaamaaa!!", we can all look around at ourselves and begin to worry about our neighbors. He isn't our savior, and the paint is only beginning to flake.
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