March The Second On The Dot

If this were a perfect world, Winter would be gone now; as the song goes, "The winter is forbidden till December... and exits March the Second on the dot."

Unfortunately, this isn't Camelot. The summer temperatures can pop up again as late as October here in California, and the fog certainly doesn't vanish by 8 a.m. No everaftering here in L.A., despite the dreams of many. As it is, it rained again tonight, and I'm sure by now the all-time record for rain here in L.A. has been broken; if not tonight, definitely by the end of the weekend. As I joked tonight, "Now I sorta know what it's like to live in Seattle."

Usually March 2nd is a big date on the calendar for me: the due date for the FAFSA. This year I'm not in school anymore, so there's no significance here: no financial papers to deal with. I've completed our taxes, and given the fact that one head of household is sans job, and the other is in school full-time, we owe absolutely nothing, nor do we get anything back either. Perhaps by this time next year, it will be vastly different; I certainly hope so!

So, you may ask, what am I not doing when I'm looking for work in this world of ours? It varies from day to day. Today was my day to be a political activist.

Every morning when I read the newspaper, there's almost always something that gets my blood boiling, or my system totally depressed. The last couple of days have been no different. The latest source of outrage for me is what Der Governor is up to these days. Frustrated at having to deal with a Democratic legislature, Herr Gropenfuhrer has decided in his infinite wisdom that since he is a servant of the people (cue snickering here), he's going to take all problems to the people. In this case, this means a special election this fall so that we, the people, can do the Governor and Legislature's jobs for them.

Given the fact that we were first shafted by Enron and then by state government as a whole and are now drifting in a sea of red ink, I'm outraged that our leader is perfectly willing to cut back services and cash assistance for the elderly and disabled, balance the budget on the backs of college students (four successive fee hikes in as many years), and generally soak the middle class in favor of his rich buddies, and declares a budget crisis, then turns around and spends cash we supposedly don't have on a special election. This is the third or fourth year, I think, that we've had propositions on the ballots.

SO... I'm not happy. At all. But I'm not happy with the state of affairs in California or the United States or even the world most days. That doesn't mean I don my armor and go tilting windmills every day. For one thing, there aren't any windmills around here, and second, I identify more with Sancho Panza than I do the dear Don. Lastly, I get exhausted thinking about it. Some days there's just one or two things going on; other days there's enough scandals to make the Gilded Age look like the Golden Age. It exhausts me. So I pick and choose my battles. When I know I'm more likely to have some impact or influence, then I'm more likely to exert the energy needed. Other times I just sigh and sit back sadly, knowing I'm watching a debacle going on in front of my eyes.

Here in California, exerting any degree of influence seems foolhardy at times. I live in a city that contains a larger population than several states put together. A close friend recently encouraged me to move somewhere like South Dakota, arguing I'd have more say in the system than I do here. While that may be true, Winter is more likely to exit here on March 2nd than it is in say, South Dakota (last I heard, May 2nd was more of their magical date). That's just the tip of the iceberg. Spending my days among the religious right is another strike. Add to that a need to be reasonably near an ocean, and it doesn't make me dream of prairie landscapes.

Instead I dream that perhaps my letter will help sway the tide; my e-mail will add yet more bulk to the opinion against fiscal waste, extravagance, scandal, corruption. My voice will somehow mean *something*.

I'm far too realistic, or more realistically, cynical, to think I have much pull with, within, or against the machine. But at least my conscience is sated knowing I stood up when it was time to be counted. I may not stand up every time, but you can bet your ass I won't sit still and be quiet either. So today, I dashed off a complaint to Mr. Schwarzenegger, reminding him of the paradox between the deficit this state has and the cash he's willing to throw around for an election we don't need, for legislation that he and the legislature could be dealing with instead. I'm perfectly willing to wait until next year to cast my ballot. After all, patience is a virtue-- isn't it?