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Saturday, August 25:

I have a strange feeling. I want to get into the eccentric things of life again- maybe relive the feeling of being as giddy as a child again. I need a total dosage of Tonari no Totoro (My Neighbor Totoro) or something. I truly need some sort of a pick-me-up.

Well, dad's trying to work out this wireless router thing we got for the computer. Right now he's at the kitchen table hunched over the instruction manual trying to figure things out. This should work correctly but, as fate happily choose to mess around with us, the project is becoming an utter failure. We can't figure out what the heck the router activation wants as a password. We've tried every password we've written down (in the entirety of the computer's life span) and still the router denies us the beautiful right to use it. I guess on my day off tomorrow I get to follow dad to Microcenter or something and try to contact some form of a computer helping station.

A little pleasure in my life divulges into a sort of geekish fandom. I don't know why but I've been in the biggest Dr. Who kick. This isn't really helping since most of my friends think I'm already insane for loving the sci-fi BBC broadcasted show. Yeah, some roll their eyes or put me down for it, but there's something about it. Maybe it helps that every Friday my mom and I actually get together, put aside our worries for the week and make some snacks, sitting down to watch something we both enjoy together. Heck, I don't know. Just call me a Whovian and let's move on.

On another note, there have been some things that have been irking me over the past few days during my time working. For some strange reason (I blame the approaching full moon or something, no matter how far off that is on the calender) I've begun noticing a queer pattern. There seems to be a supply of costumers walking the floors of my store who now randomly rant to me (or my manager for the night) about how other big named stores (Wal-Mart was mentioned today by a ... strange... woman) are selling products not made in the states. I have to ask myself, "why now are people trying to be some purified example of an American and boycott every other nation by only buying things made in the homeland"?

Ok, ok, there's nothing wrong with this, I suppose. And these customers obviously have some strong held feelings on said subject. Despite this, the whole situation and the whole silliness of the outbursts, it wholly ticks me off. I'm American myself, but I don't go around ordering "Freedom Fries" and disowning products if it was made in China, Africa, or wherever else. In this sense of fashion, I know it looks bad on me. I looks like I support our jobs being sent over and economy losing money blah blah yadda and all that jazz. But the reality is this: how can you purge yourself and become so low that you boycott every single item you see on the shelf that doesn't have the American flag on it? What, do you mean to tell me you eat food that was grown or raised in the states? You wear designer clothes made right here in the jolly ol' USA?

What about those fancy cars you're driving? I would love to walk up to those ranting customers and politely ask them what car they drove, and who made it. I bet their hot rods weren't fully made here.

For the sake of everything, it's almost becoming asinine how childish this whole affair is becoming. I stand here, dumbfounded, that people can be so blind and brash to do this. I'd love to casually point out that we're not 100% from America too- unless you're a full Native American (and even I'm part Cherokee). I feel like I'm digressing into some angsty persona these days, but it's just wearing me a bit thin on the edges. It's making me sick how people are just closing their minds off to accepting other races, other products and what not.

Gee. Now that I look harder at the issue at hand, no wonder more than half of the nations bloody well hate us.

....Well. This isn't too good, is it? God, I've need to write about some happier things. Next Journal has to be a bit more optimistic or I'm checking myself into the Looney Bin.

...I'm going to go write my book now...

heart Peace out, ya'll! heart