Some Things To Protest
“Hey, dear, have you seen the tent?”
“Tent, why do you want that old thing?”
“Oh, I'm joining the protest. I've had enough.”
“Enough of what, dear?”
“I don't know. Enough of…of something. Yeah, that's it. I've had enough of something and I want society to address it. Something's always happening and I'm getting tired of it happening to me.”
“My truck breaking down, the heat pump dying in the dead of winter, the head gasket on our best car blowing. Something. Something. Something. I'm gonna take this homemade sign and sit-in somewhere until somebody stops the something from happening.”
Though the conversation is fictitious, frankly, I've had enough of real “somethings” that keep popping up. Life, it seems, always delivers up the unexpected.
The computer dies, dies and dies again and again.
The dog had an accident on the new carpet.
There's not enough milk for the breakfast cereal.
Big something. Little something. Something. Something. Something.
Enough already! I'm supposed to be the center of my own universe, the captain of my own ship (minus meddling deck hands, of course). So I'm going to take the only avenue I can figure to express my distain for the many somethings I don't like. It's what every American has a right to do. Protest. But…why and where?
My beef isn't with Wall Street. Wall Street won't replace the starter on the car. So I shouldn't go camping at…Where is Farmville's financial district any way? Guess it's academic.
My beef isn't with government. Government can't fix everything and, it seems, struggles to fix anything. Besides, I guess it's my responsibility to clean the carpet. So I shouldn't camp out on the courthouse lawn or Twin Lakes State Park, though the latter at least makes some sense.
My beef isn't with the neighbors. They're actually the best kind-there if you need them without being intrusive. So I have no cause to go and put up a port-a-potty in their back yard next to my tent.
Maybe I could blame…hmm. Who else is there? I've got to protest all the somethings happening or someone for letting them intrude into my life and but…What if (gasp!) there's no one to blame, a series of unfortunate coincidences? What if no one will listen?
What if some of the somethings troubling me I brought on myself and (double gasp!) no one is to blame but me?
Guess, in that event, I could set the protest tent up in the yard, but that wouldn't be any fun or draw any attention until it got really cold and folks started asking some silly questions not realizing it was a protest at all. And even if I were at fault for things that have befallen me, I wouldn't know how to make me stop all the somethings that I didn't like happening in the first place.
In reality, having problems or issues or troubles or some combination thereof means you have life, and that's a good thing. I know, it's hard to count some things blessings, but someone with no troubles at all isn't breathing.
Still, if we all had our druthers, we would like to do with a lot less of something and occupy some place a lot more interesting. I know I would.
And even if anything and everything won't do, sometimes nothing would do just fine.