don’t get me wrong – i had a good time last night – but i don’t think i like being an adult and having conversations limited to death and taxes and things to do. i’d rather stay a dreamer who dreams of taking freight trains on my next vacation, an idealist who isn’t afraid of quitting my job and moving across the country. there’s a certain pretensiousness that comes along with drinking martini’s that doesn’t lend itself to thinking outside the box.
don’t get me wrong – it’s not that i don’t *care* about death and taxes and todo lists – it’s just that i think there is so much more to talk about.
i just finished reading the jungle by upton sinclair, and highly recommend that each and every one of you start reading it today. the whole story was heartbreaking – the story of a naive immigrant family who came to america in search of the american dream – and who were beaten and starved and maimed and killed and raped and pillaged along the way. i know that the conditions of the factories have improved since the early 1900′s, but i wonder about the conditions of today’s immigrants who are chasing that same american dream all of our ancestors chased.
what makes someone illegal? webster’s says “not according to or authorized by law”. i say – no person can be illegal. we are all illegal. the law is only as good as what you make it, and the fact is that “illegal immigrants” are more engrained into the functioning of our society than i am. my job can be outsourced; what i do is not especially important or groundbreaking and i’m pretty sure the world could live without another grumpy IT worker. but physical labor, the kind of hard work that most baby boomers (or any generation since) have never seen, that sort of labor cannot be outsourced to a penny paid worker living in another country answering phones with an accent and calling himself george.
the law is only as relevant as you let it be.
