American kids don't need participation trophies, they need dodgeball injuries and the truth that life rewards the strong, not the sensitive.
Toughen up.
I requested a simple band of rubber from my host. She gestured to a drawer, and the very gesture told me everything I needed to know about American chaos.
One drawer. Every household. Always in the kitchen, and it holds the same things in every home in the nation: batteries of unknown charge. Rubber bands. A screwdriver too short for any screw. Birthday candles. Soy sauce packets. Three pens, one of which works. And a key.
The key is the part I cannot release. I have now surveyed eleven households. ALL have the key. NONE know what it opens.
"What does this open?" I asked Sue, holding it up.
"No idea. Been there since we moved in."
"Then why keep it?"
She looked at me as if I had proposed burning a shrine. "You can't throw away a KEY."
She is right. I felt it the moment she said it. A key answers to a lock somewhere. To discard it is to abandon a door you may never find. Eleven households, each guarding one orphaned promise, between the candles and the takeout menus.
In Japan, we made a national art of putting things in their proper place. I assumed the junk drawer was that art's absence. Wrong. The junk drawer IS the proper place — for things whose place has not yet been revealed. Not disorder. Faith, with a handle.
I confess my crime. I once organized Dale's junk drawer while waiting for him. Small bins. Categories. He opened it, stood silent, and said, "Where's the thing?" He could not name the thing. He knew only that it could no longer be found. I had alphabetized a treasure map. We do not speak of it.
The drawer does not need order. It needs to be opened with hope, and closed with acceptance.
I keep a junk drawer of my own now. This week it accepted a battery, a twist tie, and a key I found in the yard. I do not know what the key opens.
Into the drawer it goes. Someday, the door will announce itself.
@HillaryClinton Fuck right off you sleezy grifting hag, you and you're husband trashed "the People's House" and that's just what you did on the way out. You might want your just sit this one out.
Remember, during today's literal cage match on the White House grounds:
No matter what, it's not his house. It's our house.
Get a hat, coaster, or sticker to support groups and candidates who will respect the form AND the function of the people's house. https://t.co/yGDgJciDQZ
The kidney stone that got stuck enough to have to be taken out with laser surgery because it was the size of Mt. Everest and was never passing. It was going to kill me first, which it almost did.
>Plot centers entirely around fighting extreme government taxation and overreach
>The Sheriff of Nottingham literally collects taxes from the church poor box
>Friar Tuck gets so fed up with the state disrespecting the Church that he physically throws hands with the Sheriff
>Casts the Crusades in a positive light
>Male protagonist who risks his life for his people
>Unapologetically traditional romance with Maid Marian without any modern subversion
>Climax is literally a raid to break political prisoners out of a corrupt jail
>Story resolves when the rightful, divinely-appointed monarch returns from the Holy Land to crush the corrupt politicians
>Ends with a beautiful church wedding and a happily ever after
We need to make Kid's stories based again
I don’t want a coffee with hints of cherry and cocoa. I want a coffee that sprints straight to my brain, flips the damn table, and yells, “WAKE THE HELL UP. We’ve got stuff to do and people to piss off.”