just some thoughts i'm not keeping to myself

Keep your opinions to yourself. That is, if I don't agree with them.
If I do agree with them, well then, by all means, please share.

This is what Scott told me I do. That my so-called open-mindedness is, actually, its own form of narrow-mindedness. Of course, I don't agree.

I was raised in the cold North by, let's call them "conservatively liberal" people. As I recall in the late 80s as a teenager carving out her own pale, yet distinct, identity, as a family: We weren't big on religion. We were big on Reagan. We weren't big on homosexuality.

Flash forward twenty years and what are we now? As a family: Still not big on religion (keep that to yourself, please). Former Republicans, we're still not into big government (again, religion, please, to yourself) but we are big on rights. We are very big on homosexuality.

Interesting. It's what touches us so personally that ultimately defines us.

So while we had some Wild Wacky Wit and some Savannah Fest Bier at the Moon River Brewery in Savannah, GA this past weekend while watching Gators fans (there is no escape) passionately watching their god in blue and orange, Tim Tebow, who just surpassed Herschel Walker in rushing touchdowns this fall, we talked about these things. I hate Tim Tebow. OK, scratch that. I don't hate the guy. I don't even know him. But I find the fact that he promotes Biblical passages in his eye black just obnoxious as all hell.

Why Jess? How is that any different from you sporting an Obama/Biden sticker on the back of your car during last year's election?

Why am I offended by religion in my face---and evangelical crap on Tebow's face? I don't know, exactly. I just am. I find it as annoying as people who talk about blow jobs like they just had coffee, not respecting their sexuality as private in certain company. I find it as rude as the Prius-driving Northerners who, at times, shove their political beliefs in places they just don't belong. Like the workplace. Come on. Your boss is probably a Republican. All of mine have been. Every single one. From the Clinton era to now. If I agree with you, my job's at stake. If I don't, you wonder about me. Either way, I lose.

Leave well enough alone, I say.

But what of trying to change things? What of making an influence? What about that?

Good question.

How can I have just interacted cordially with people who had no problem---none whatsover---in declaring their blatant racial superiority? How can they assume I feel the same as they do? How can they be so FREE to say those things in front of me? Because I'm a white girl who has clearly had decent opportunities in this life?

Sometimes free speech is a little too free for me. The "self edit" button is missing on some people. Like Tim Tebow's eye black. And the reverse snobbery of the middle class (I'm better than you because I worked harder and came from less). I'm so confused. I just want to be free enough to be left alone. To not have to watch a football game and think about Jerry Falwell.

Sex. Politics. Religion.

Let's talk about something else.

Oh yeah, race. And education being the great equalizer. Sure, if you can get there. But what if you can't? What if you're stuck in the poverty cycle, you don't know anything else, and you don't know how to get out and even if you do get out, nobody wants you to. What then? Do the people with more opportunity get to look down on you?

Let's take a look at the ridiculously talented street performers we watched this past weekend.

There were four of them, three black, one white.

All the black guys clearly had:
Fast twitch muscle fibers.
An innate sense of rhythm.
Ownership of their manliness even though they danced.

The one white guy in the group (we called him "The Spider" because he was just so damn lanky and skinny) and while he had the courage to get out there and even demonstrate some impressive skill, to be sure, he was never going to be one of them.

White men can dance. But not like black men can. And why is it that a black man dancing is sexy and manly and a white one dancing is show-tuney and gay?

Shrugging my shoulders and just thinking my thoughts over here. Just asking. Looking for answers. Just chattering into the internets. The tubes. Asking for your thoughts back. Asking see? Not avoiding your in-our-faceness. Let's chat. Don't dictate. Not to me, please.

It's good to question things, mostly. Isn't it? That's how I see it. Keep asking. Keep observing. Keep questioning. I don't know what else to do. It's not that I'm afraid to stand for something (I know I won't "fall for anything"), it's just that I'm afraid of those who do that. I'm thinking maybe they just haven't thought it through enough.

How can you be so sure? Tim Tebow, are you sure? There's a god? Really? How do you know? Or are you just some guy who's a good athlete? That's a lot of biology right there. Or did God do it? Hmm. Maybe we should consult the breed-happy Duggars.

Are you there God? It's me, Jess.

I still like my Buddha, my gargoyles, my dirt.

But what do I know?

At least I know I don't know.