Holy fuck, I'm going to be 26 years old tomorrow. Groundhogs day, and Anna Grace's birthday. I don't want anything big for my birthday. All I ask for is a pair of reading glasses. My eyesight is fine, actually I have very good eyesight, but now that I'm offically in my mid twenties, I want to look a bit more sophisticated. So I figured reading glasses, on a chain. You know what I mean right? Like the teachers in the fifties, with cat eye glasses hanging around their neck. That is what I want, although my glasses wont have a prescription in them, they will still represent something to me. I'm sure while I'm wearing them I'll always feel in the mood to read, and while reading become inspired to write.
Right now I'm not feeling at all inspired to write. I'm just board, and refuse to waste all time watching television. I just finished a book called "Medical Apartheid", about the dark history of Medical experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present. It is a very good read, one of those you can't put down. Its so repulsive, and horrid, that you have to read it. What we humans have done, and still do to each other is down right wrong. In the book, there is this on line that reads, "we doctors in those days, did not look at negro's as humans. They were Animals to us". I gaged when I read that. Just because the doctor's skin was white, and the patients skin was black, they rationalized the inhumanness of their experiments by calling black people animals.
What is wrong with us? Why are we so sure that people with white skin are superior to every other race? We should be considered the worst race, the way we treated, and still treat other ethnic groups is repulsive. Thank God, that Barack Obama won the election, and is now our president. A black man is the head of the most, or one of thee most powerful countries in the world. Hopefully this will send a message to the raciest asses who live in this country, and in other countries around the world.
If only we could stop racism and religious rivalry. Mohamed, Jesus...why oh why is there so much blood shed over who believes in the right "god", and who believes in the wrong "god"?
This book really stuck it to me. Every time my father makes a raciest remark, I'm going to slap his face. If I hear others using raciest remarks, I'm going to practice my own medical experiments on them. Although you can't fight hate with hate. To bad Ghandi isn't still alive. I've never watched the movie Ghandi. Perhaps I'll go to Diamond Head video rentals, and rent that movie. I've read a biography on Ghandi, but that was back in highschool, I need to refresh my memory. So I'm going to spend my birthday, reading a book about Ghandi with my fake reading glasses . Happy birthday to everyone else out there who's birthday I've missed, or is coming up, or is the same day as mine. Its just another day closer to death. I'm still dieing in the Sylvia Plath sense of the word.