I am so stupidly fortunate it confounds me. The pure luck of being born into a lovely family in a lovely area of a lovely country during peaceful times, with all my fingers and toes and not part of any oppressed minorities (and being female in a place/time that is one of the safest) and being academically smart and symmetrically-faced and able to make a liveable wage doing something I enjoy - it's pretty goddamn splendid.
Of course, I undergo a great deal of emotional turmoil because 90% of people have all these horrors in their lives (like hunger and homelessness and nobody to look after them) and I haven't really done anything to earn me the spot I have in the world. Just because of where and who I was born doesn't mean I matter more than anybody else. Everybody deserves basic respect and freedom.
Which is to say: I really hate (strongly dislike) the system of selfishness and greed that fuels capitalism, Australia and our government. We were built on immigration. We have an ageing population and need immigrants. Why on earth it's okay for us to accept New Zealanders and Brits en masse but not people from countries where they are actively in danger is utterly beyond me. The amount of cruelty that goes on in the name of protecting us from some great brown terrorist threat is unfathomable.
I mean, we lie in our national anthem. For those who come across the sea, we've boundless plains that we're not going to share. By debasing and dehumanising people in an isolated prison (people who have a right to seek asylum; hence 'asylum seekers'. We all know this 'boat people' thing is sensationalist rubbish designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator, who are well-trained to feel threatened by people who don't look like them), you're more likely to create something terrible than by putting all that money and effort and time into helping people assimilate into our society. Isn't this just common sense?
I don't know, I don't know. I find all of life terribly confusing. Doesn't this seem terribly basic? Why are so many people I know so disinterested? People pay more attention to acquiring as much random crap as possible. Nothing matters as long as you have what you want. Sometimes I think I have a part of my brain missing and that's why the programming didn't take. I'm still waiting for my people to show up and take me back to the home planet. I don't cope well with this world.
Irrespective, I am powerless and full of contradiction. I still like pretty things and still desire money and still watch TV. People thinking well of me still occupies a lot of my thoughts. I am not brave enough to do anything significant, or broadcast these thoughts anywhere other than where hardly anyone will care to read them (I should be writing you things about what I've been reading, what I've been writing - that's what you're interested in, the nice fiction stuff). I don't know whether I am a good or kind person or whether I only think that of myself. What you do counts for more than what you think, but I'm 99% thought, 1% action.
If someone could come over and write my novel for me while I have a nap that would be great.
