Shelby Cass's Weblog

Just saw Munich – Spielberg’s latest. Court and I spoke afterwards about the senselessness of killing your enemies. You kill one person, and 20 people mourn for that one person…they avenge, and the tornado of vengeance gathers fuel. I felt like I should have know more going into the film…not more regarding the film, but regarding the history. In general I think I should know more about the world I live in and how things came to pass… 
 
I am pretty ignorant about events in the Middle East…I know this sounds horrible, but it overwhelms me to keep up with things and depresses me. Is that a good reason to remain ignorant?  
 
My friend Dave gives me world updates on things he thinks I should know (in order to not look like a COMPLETE idiot). He filters quite a lot because he doesn’t see the point in upsetting me with morbid details. He usually just sticks to the facts. Is this good or bad?  
 
He also tells me what movies I am not allowed to watch (as in he would recommend strongly that I steer clear of them, and if I do not heed his warning and watch it anyway he doesn’t want to be the ear I lament into, because, well, he told me so.)…Hotel Rwanda being one of those movies. Both Court and Dave saw me online reading about Rwanda and neither of them liked what emmerged from in front of the monitor, however many hours it took for me to unglue my eyes and my mind. It still haunts me. All the images, the frustration, the politics, the lives lost, the blood shed, the pain…and I did not see the movie. Imagine how much more vivid the images if I had. 
 
I would like to know more about these events, but when I chip at the tip of the iceberg, all I get is cold and wet. Is it worth it? If I became a news-watching paper-reading history knowing being, I would not be the me I am today. Is the me I could be, a better me than I am? I guess I am in limbo (the place Catholics are debating again)…is ignorance bliss? Do I count as truly ignorant if I know I don’t know things? 
 
I remember in high school I used to nod and say “uh huh” when people were telling a story and I wanted to pretend I knew everything they were referencing. I thought to acknowledge I didn’t know something was to acknowledge my own stupidity.  
 
Then I went to college and learned that those people (the I know everything you don’t have to explain it-types) bugged the poop out of me, and I hated getting lost in a conversation simply because I hadn’t gotten clarification. It took a while…lots of painful practice…and sometimes I still “uh huh” when I want a story over with or I really don’t care (yikes! What a bitch!), but I now admit freely when I know something or not, and I do get laughed at (especially by Dad after the tsunami last year when he referenced it in conversation and I had no idea what he was talking about), and I do feel dumb, but I guess it’s, in my opinion, a smarter dumb. Now, there’s something to strive for. 
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I don’t think anyone (save the people who worked the system and made bank from faux whiplash) has ever considered whiplash to be their friend, but I am here to say, just for the record, that it sucks big time. I don’t even have whiplash right now and it still sucks.  
 
How’s that? Well, in June (June 4, 2005 to be exact), as I was returning from our Soul Food event (charity event promoting holistic health for kids with cancer that my friend Koichi dreamt up), I just happened to be rear ended by a nice young frat boy. He said his “brakes must have failed”, but we both know that he messed up somehow since it was a red light, and if his brakes had truly failed, he would have probably hit me harder (and then not been able to drive away later).  
 
So, the damage to the back of my 98 Civic (Nick) was much less than it felt, since I was immediately aware of my neck feeling less than stellar. Didn’t even split the bumper, though it looked like the front of his car had slid under the back of mine (his license plate was bent around his bumper).  
 
I was not doing well post-bump…head spinning, adrenaline rushing, feelings all in a horrible bundle of ick. All I wanted to do was go to sleep on the cement…just curl up and wake up later. Later is one of my favorite words…it is also a nemesis of mine. 
 
Later seems to work well for “that will come back and bite you in the ass later” or “you’ll pay for that later”, but not so much for the “Later, after you go through 6 months of physical therapy, you’ll feel better.” Because exactly how long does later mean? Later tater. 
 
My shoulder/neck (left trap area) hurts like a knife took up residence and is trying to remodel. I don’t particularly like it. It is allowed to stop now. But it’s not that bad, I’m just being a whiner. It hurts when it hurts and I don’t notice when it doesn’t hurt… 
 
Dude, Court is saying this in a monosylabic voice: time. has. had. think. I’m. get. don’t. hour. up. no. which. any .other. also. it’s. were. her. she. laughing. out. loud. as. soon. as. possible. see .you. later. confused. his. red. reef. feed. good. them. see. woork. only. could. now. people. class. than. search. writing. way. many. these. want. archives. into.make .year. first. book. well. very. browse. send. INSANITY!!!! I can’t see him so I have no clue what he is doing so I ask “what?” and he says “wait” and I wait and listen and is he speaking in code? Am I missing something? How very very VERY annoying. So then I interrupt “What the HELL are you saying?!” “I’m programming my phone.” Something it would have been nice to know before I near ripped your head off, darling. 
 
Now he’s starting again: I’m I’m I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing period. I didn’t know I could pause pause pause pause pause… Aw, he sent me a message…Good thing I didn’t hurt him – he’s cute. I think I’ll keep him. 
 
I also think maybe the SOMA is working a little and maybe I can fall asleep and forget about the shoulder dagger. It’s better than a kidney stone. 
 
Baby Mikey got baptized today in the hospital. He’ll be there a few more weeks, but they expect a full recovery, and Erin is doing much better than pre-official botulism diagnosis. He looks better…Come on Baby Mikey! Michael James, you must get strong like bull! 
 
Okay good night. Just started reading My Friend Leonard by James Frey (A Million Little Pieces)and it’s good so far (only 60 pages in). I’m hooked…I’m an addict. Of what? Of STUFF.  
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