The more enmeshed I get with the political and social mess we're in here in the US, the more twisted up I get in having about, oh, zero ability to change anything. I mean really--unless 9 million of my closest blogger friends are ready to comandeer some buses and roll into Washington, like that might scare them, then there isn't a way to change what is happening, what's been happening for a very, very, depressingly, distressingly long time. A hurricane comes and blows apart the lie we've let others construct for us over the last many decades.
But what can we do? Hunt down Bush's business cronies and do what--steal their business cards? Confiscate their PDAs? Trash their laptops? Delete their contacts? It's bigger than us.
Tuesday I'm scheduled to work at one of the shelters in Cobb County where some of the NOLA evacuees are staying. I've been craving that day for a week, since I went and signed up as a red cross volunteer, because the overwhelming urge to CHANGE SOMETHING is haunting my every waking moment.
So I'll change something. Maybe it'll be a trash can liner, maybe I'll change a diaper, maybe I'll change the paper towels in the locker rooms, maybe the toilet paper in the bathrooms, maybe I'll change the ink cartridge in the ink jet printer, if there is a printer, maybe I'll change the way the phone is answered, or maybe I'll change what's for lunch, maybe I'll change my mind, maybe I'll change someone else's mind, or maybe I'll change some tiny little insignificant thing that might be the only little change I can change.