Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
(Billie Holiday)
***
I finally came up with a female musician for my final power point project for my Women's Studies class.
It was between Billie Holiday and Pink.
Heh.
Although I'm crazy about the Pink's lyrical line, "Keep your drink, just gimme the money," I had to go with Billie Holiday.
The ppt has to be at least 12 slides; I don't think it'll be a problem coming up with material on Billie Holiday.
***
I met a woman from Bernese Mountain Dog Rescue today and turned my huge dog over to her. I'm both relieved and glad that the dog will find a good home. I feel as though I just let the poor dog down. With her issues, she needed a lot more than I had time or energy to give.
So. BMD chapter closed.
***
Despite my relief and happiness that the dog will find a forever-home (and that I'll save tons of money on dog food..), I'm still all inexplicably bummed out.
And I still don't know why.
***
Just to increase my depression, people in my Soci class keep posting stuff about religion and the superiority of men.
Some guy just posted a long post that begins with:
My religion over the years has taught me that men are the spiritual head of the household and that a devout woman is subordinate to her husband.
It goes on about the literal translation of the bible, the abomination of homosexuality, that premarital sex is a mortal sin, that abortionists go to hell.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I hate-hate-hate everyone.
***
I feel like I'm stuck in some kind of box. I feel like I can't get out.
Eh. But it doesn't matter, does it?
And Billie Holiday had it much, much worse than me.
And it's not like I live in Beirut, right?
We've got enough food, I just found a good home for the Bernese Mountain Dog, my zucchini looks like it's going to produce very well, very soon. My grapes are finally, after years, putting out actual, edible grapes. My citronella is looking, and smelling, great. I finally came up with the perfect subject for my women in music power point.
Blah blah blah.
It's not really helping. Except maybe the dog and the zucchini parts.
***
Remember that fundamental Christian conservative Republican old guy I engaged in email correspondence with for a couple months? I finally had to stop because it was very clearly Emailing With the Enemy. He kept saying that there is room in this nation for people with different opinions. Of course this is true and something I would endorse and agree with. But see the thing is, he wanted his "opinions" passed into law. And his opinions wanted to outlaw my opinions.
See what I mean?
If you don't, I'm too disheartened and tired to explain.
It's not that I'm depressed becauseeveryone the majority of my fellow students believe differently than I do. No. It's that nearly every single post has to add something about this nation being based on the bible, that we need to bring our country back to God, that...
Oh crap. I don't even feel like continuing.
I'm depressed because I'm outnumbered. I'm outnumbered and outgunned and if I speak up about anything I believe in in any forum other than a class discussion board for a college that's tons and tons of miles away, I'm committing social and professional suicide.
See, my professor, the one who called me, she says that I'm wrong. That if, say, I were open about, for example, my atheism, my liberal politics, my sexuality, nothing would happen. That it's all in my head. That I'm scared for no reason.
She says that she's a black, lesbian, disabled woman with an inter-generational, interracial romantic relationship and she's fine.
I'm all, "Yeah, but you nearly have your doctorate, you're not poor, you've got a good job that no one can threaten to take away from you, you don't have kids that they can try to take away..."
And she still thinks I'm wrong. She thinks I'm living in fear and my fear is setting a bad example for my children. She says if I were out about everything, nothing would change. I'd still get sub jobs, no one would treat me differently, people would respect me for my differences, blah blah blah.
I think she's wacky.
I mean, I like her tremendously, I just think she's wackily wrong.
What I think, is that I were a professor with my Masters, nearly with my doctorate, well-employed at a major university, I could walk around and state my personal beliefs and opinions all day long and everything would be cool.
But not yet. Not as my life is now. And it hurt my feelings, her thinking that I'm a coward.
It probably hurt me because I'm scared that I'm a coward, too.
And I don't want to be a coward.
It's depressing me.
I don't want to meet my class, my professor at the face-to-face. I don't want my professor to see that I'm just some aging scared wimpy white woman. (I think she thinks I'm Hispanic. I think she thinks I'm gay.)
So I'm depressed.
Eh.
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
(Billie Holiday)
***
I finally came up with a female musician for my final power point project for my Women's Studies class.
It was between Billie Holiday and Pink.
Heh.
Although I'm crazy about the Pink's lyrical line, "Keep your drink, just gimme the money," I had to go with Billie Holiday.
The ppt has to be at least 12 slides; I don't think it'll be a problem coming up with material on Billie Holiday.
***
I met a woman from Bernese Mountain Dog Rescue today and turned my huge dog over to her. I'm both relieved and glad that the dog will find a good home. I feel as though I just let the poor dog down. With her issues, she needed a lot more than I had time or energy to give.
So. BMD chapter closed.
***
Despite my relief and happiness that the dog will find a forever-home (and that I'll save tons of money on dog food..), I'm still all inexplicably bummed out.
And I still don't know why.
***
Just to increase my depression, people in my Soci class keep posting stuff about religion and the superiority of men.
Some guy just posted a long post that begins with:
My religion over the years has taught me that men are the spiritual head of the household and that a devout woman is subordinate to her husband.
It goes on about the literal translation of the bible, the abomination of homosexuality, that premarital sex is a mortal sin, that abortionists go to hell.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I hate-hate-hate everyone.
***
I feel like I'm stuck in some kind of box. I feel like I can't get out.
Eh. But it doesn't matter, does it?
And Billie Holiday had it much, much worse than me.
And it's not like I live in Beirut, right?
We've got enough food, I just found a good home for the Bernese Mountain Dog, my zucchini looks like it's going to produce very well, very soon. My grapes are finally, after years, putting out actual, edible grapes. My citronella is looking, and smelling, great. I finally came up with the perfect subject for my women in music power point.
Blah blah blah.
It's not really helping. Except maybe the dog and the zucchini parts.
***
Remember that fundamental Christian conservative Republican old guy I engaged in email correspondence with for a couple months? I finally had to stop because it was very clearly Emailing With the Enemy. He kept saying that there is room in this nation for people with different opinions. Of course this is true and something I would endorse and agree with. But see the thing is, he wanted his "opinions" passed into law. And his opinions wanted to outlaw my opinions.
See what I mean?
If you don't, I'm too disheartened and tired to explain.
It's not that I'm depressed because
Oh crap. I don't even feel like continuing.
I'm depressed because I'm outnumbered. I'm outnumbered and outgunned and if I speak up about anything I believe in in any forum other than a class discussion board for a college that's tons and tons of miles away, I'm committing social and professional suicide.
See, my professor, the one who called me, she says that I'm wrong. That if, say, I were open about, for example, my atheism, my liberal politics, my sexuality, nothing would happen. That it's all in my head. That I'm scared for no reason.
She says that she's a black, lesbian, disabled woman with an inter-generational, interracial romantic relationship and she's fine.
I'm all, "Yeah, but you nearly have your doctorate, you're not poor, you've got a good job that no one can threaten to take away from you, you don't have kids that they can try to take away..."
And she still thinks I'm wrong. She thinks I'm living in fear and my fear is setting a bad example for my children. She says if I were out about everything, nothing would change. I'd still get sub jobs, no one would treat me differently, people would respect me for my differences, blah blah blah.
I think she's wacky.
I mean, I like her tremendously, I just think she's wackily wrong.
What I think, is that I were a professor with my Masters, nearly with my doctorate, well-employed at a major university, I could walk around and state my personal beliefs and opinions all day long and everything would be cool.
But not yet. Not as my life is now. And it hurt my feelings, her thinking that I'm a coward.
It probably hurt me because I'm scared that I'm a coward, too.
And I don't want to be a coward.
It's depressing me.
I don't want to meet my class, my professor at the face-to-face. I don't want my professor to see that I'm just some aging scared wimpy white woman. (I think she thinks I'm Hispanic. I think she thinks I'm gay.)
So I'm depressed.
Eh.
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