Kything

I was sitting here on the couch, fingers lightly, idly tapping the computer keys and Misha came up and asked if I was typing my brain out again. Her almond eyes were about a half inch from mine, which made me smile and agree with her because when she's that close it's rather mesmerizing. She could say anything and I'd agree.

Now, both Maryah and Misha are leaning over the back of the couch on either side of me, reading this, sticking their faces in mine, and poking me. Which yes, means I'm also screaming sporadically.

Now they are "tele-tickling" me. Which reminded me what I wanted to write about! I did not sit down here to tell you what my crazy sisters are doing to me.

So just pretend you didn't read the above and this is the beginning of a new post:

I have decided, firmly, that I believe in kything (Madeline L'Engle's term for telepathy, though it's a little different in the sense that there's a "oneness" to it that telepathy doesn't have). I've always sort of believed that family members can read each others minds to a certain extent. After all, live with anyone long enough and they become predictable. It's natural that you share thought waves every now and then. But last night we were in the car driving back from Williamsport, and everyone had been silent for a while. I was leaning against the car window, staring up at the night sky, thinking about writing a book. That made me think about The Help, which I just finished reading, and of Skeeter, one of the main characters who wants to be an author. In the end, Skeeter moves to New York City. NYC made me think of the two times I've been, and I started wondering what it would be like to live there. I decided I would go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art once a week for a whole year and spend hours just in one room each time, contemplating what is there.

Right at that second, mom said "wouldn't it be fun if our family could make another day trip to NYC and see the Christmas lights?" I said, "Did I say something about NYC aloud by accident? Because I was just thinking about going to NYC." To which mom revealed that actually she had been thinking about how much she'd like to take just me and we could go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (odd thought. Mom and I never go anywhere alone...and never to the Met).

At that point, I thought it was ironic that we were both thinking that at the same time--but we've done stuff like that before so I was about to concede it was just coincidence. However, I decided to tell mom that just before that I'd been thinking about The Help and Skeeter. Crazily, mom then said that before NYC, she had been thinking about Emma Stone, and her latest role as Skeeter in the movie they made of The Help!

When she said that I started squealing. Because our thoughts were definitely connected in some way. It's too random to be coincidental. Kything is real. (*woo hoo*)

To continue with the associative thought pattern, NYC makes me think of Occupy Wall Street. Admittedly, I don't know exactly what they are protesting about besides the seeming injustice that they are poor and jobless while others are rich and employed, so I probably shouldn't verbally attack them like I feel like doing. But I mean, come one, what do they think they are going to accomplish? And what is up with all the violence, rapes, and molotov cocktails? Do they seriously think that by protesting they are going to get college educations and jobs handed to them? Do they seriously think that they can blame everyone but themselves for their current lack of success? Yes, a lot of things are out of our control. The economy has hurt everyone. The leaders of our country have made bad choices (but could we have made better ones in their position?). Sometimes we pay for our parents' mistakes and can't go to college or climb the social ladder like we'd want to. Sometimes we lose our jobs. Sometimes we get sick. But we can't change any of that.

Which means sometimes you just have to suck it up and realize the American Dream is not available to all dreaming Americans. Capitalism is capitalism. Don't hold me to this because I haven't taken economics, but I'm pretty sure for capitalism to work you have to have poor people. If you are one of those poor people stuck in the lower class, I'm sorry and I feel for you (quite tangibly, since I am one of you). But don't get mad at people who are rich. Don't blame the government for all your problems (trust me, you don't want the government to have so much power that it will fix your problems). Instead, accept and be thankful. Go ahead and dream a little for a house that doesn't have a mortgage and a steady 9-5 job, but don't get mad when you don't get either of those things. And remember the true 99%: the kids starving in Somalia, the people dying from cholera in Haiti, the people in S. America getting gunned down in guerrilla warfare, the deathly poor citizens of China stuck under a Communist government.

AND. Don't forget that sometimes....being poor in America is fun. It's a constant adventure, so enjoy it. Embrace it. Dance and scream in that cold shower. Smile and shrug when the credit card doesn't work at the grocery checkout. Laugh when the phones and internet go out. Cozy up at home with the family when the car quits. Cook out over an open fire when the grill dies. Cut down a Christmas tree from your own woods.

Be creative, and laugh and love a lot. Molotov cocktails aren't the answer.

{And did I just go off on a political rant? Goshdarnit. My apologies}