Monday, December 25, 2006

survivor guilt

3:17 PM Posted by: M., 0 comments

Being here, being warm, being safe and full of food is satisfying/not. It is nice in a way to sit on a couch with a fireplace burning (when it still is like 55 degrees outside), typing on a new laptop with tons of food in the kitchen about 10 steps away, CDs and movies at arms length, millions of pages of books upstairs available to read. It is all nice, but it feels totally wrong. I can't even say why in detail, but it just does. I am thinking of the homeless people in DC like Roxy, George, Jason and others. Those names sound like cast members of RENT or something, but they aren't. I met these people like in the last month. I think Roxy is a little crazy, she sits on the steps of this bakery everyday and we eat fruit--she really likes fruit--but then she like is happy but seems hopeless too. she plans out her week of where she is going to panhandle, like that is her destiny or something. And then George stands in between lanes on the Key Bridge getting beer money and then drinks under the bridge. I am not that worried about him because he is really smart and he is moreso homeless because he is a burned out punk--but he is still homeless. and then Jason passes out flowers to women on 18th street. He like picks them from the big planters on the sidewalk. There are so many people homeless in DC and the suburbs there. not to mention the whole world too. and refugees are getting attacked in their camps...and as I write this, Ethiopia is bombing Islamist areas of Somalia. People are like screaming at this very moment and blood is being poured all over the earth and individuals are experiencing the most degrading, painful moments of their lives...and then I just sit here, drink hot coffee not because I really want it, but just because it is there.

life can't be all about complaining about these problems though. it can't be about ignoring them either i know. but still, i do not know what to do with all this. with the image burned in my mind of little boys being forced to orally castrate their own fathers in Bosnia, the photos I've seen of corpses of women in DRC with iron rods jammed up their vaginas and breasts sliced off. All this stuff is in my head--and I've only seen photos and read stories, I haven't had to see it firsthand or experience it at all. I remember when the torture survivors came to my school last year and I had to sit facing a man whose entire family was tortured and mutilated in front of him--to a woman who couldn't even mutter out the vaguest descriptions of her time in Chilean prison.
what do we do with all this? the answer so far is to get your master's degree then phD and kiss a bunch of asses, then start on a never-ending bloodthirsty rampage for donor funds. i don't know. this is all my incredibly nieve, 22 year old opinion, but it is in my head


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