Or Give Me Death

Freedom.
Freedom is ambiguous, but has one defining concept; the lack of total control, the openness and wherewithal to greet each day with the knowledge that what may come can never be know, but the mindset, experience, and wisdom to handle any situation.

As you might guess, I recently moved out into my own apartment. I pay my own bills, and rent, have a bit of fun, but responsibly. I go to my job on time because my freedom depends on my job. It's a tricky balance, and one I am lucky enough to be able to support. I know a lot of people my age are still struggling to make rent, or stuck at home, or in a bad situation. I treasure each decision I have the freedom to make because of what I have.

I missed being able to go out with no plan in mind, or to have a last minute change of heart and head somewhere other than my intended destination, or finding an event that interests me and being able to plan a specific night to go. One such occasion the other day resulted in three new friendships that were exactly what I was looking for in this crazy neighborhood. A fun night was had, and numbers exchanged, and for the first time in almost four years I feel like myself again, dressing how I used to when I experienced social freedom for the first time. Slipping back into a trench coat and hat, or a snazzy all black outfit accessorized with hints of red feels just like coming back in line with the parts of myself that know how to have fun. Tempered of course this time with a few more years of wisdom, lessons, and responsibility.

Here's to 2015, and a new year, a new beginning of many choices, plans, alternatives, and the freedom to do what I choose.

Pandering to the Lowest Common Denominator

The New York Post, owned by that almost messianic conservative figure, Rupert Murdoch, is a constant sight in my job's break room. No wonder, right? It bills itself as " a tabloid newspaper on the island of Manhattan that is widely considered to be the golden standard of journalistic ethics, writing and sophistication."

Bull. Shit.

Every time I open the paper, there is another sensationalist headline meant to shock and rouse god-fearing americans into action.

"WAR ON COPS"
"PIED DIVIDERS"
"TERROR TEENS SLAY HERO COP"

The writers at the Post must live in some sort of self delusional action movie universe. Their daily caricature of the President has devolved to something resembling a toxic waste mutant, by this point. Every day, every headline is either mudslinging the president, the mayor, exploiting tragedy, or at worst, rabblerousing. How else can you explain such rhetoric as "BAIL-FAIL JUDGE STRIKES AGAIN; FREES COP PUNCHER JUST LIKE THREAT THUG"

The Post would have you believe that President Obama is wiping his ass with the constitution while sad eyed heroic policemen are being cut down in the streets by wild eyed proto simian "thugs". They may claim that's not the case, but reading this drivel? Sure sounds like it. There's good and bad on both sides. It's gotten out of hand, but only long simmering resentment and distrust breeds this kind of explosive protest. People are fed up. The country is fed up. The youth are fed up, and I'm fed up, especially with bullshit newspapers, networks, and sock puppets paraded around on mainstream media.

Fuck you, New York Post.