"known unknowns"

last night i went to bed misearable. i couldn't eat, i was so nauseous (i talk a lot about being nauseous here i've noticed). our netflix movies arrived yesterday. mine was "weapons of mass deception" (as opposed to the other movie, king kong... zzZZZzzZZZ...) so we watched mine first.

i burst into tears/sobs/semi-hyperventilation mode. gawsh i'm getting choked up now just thinking about it.

so, dad, if you're going to label me, go ahead and call me a "bleeding heart... whatever (bedwetting pinko-liberal, in the words of your father?)"

but i understand now.

i used to blame the public for the shit in which we find ourselves mired. and i guess it is partially our fault. our own laziness to ask questions and apply critical thinking skills has to account for some of it, right?

i was in buenos aires and 22 during the whole lead-up to the iraq war. i remember the day it started; it was a chilly BsAs fall day. i got on the 55 to go to DiTella; it was one of the newer buses ridiculously designed to have fewer seats than the older ones. as i got on i hit my hand against one of the hold-on bars, getting upset and maybe spilling a few (english) curses under my breath that only the *very fortunate* would understand. a few tears were spilled as well (the depressive's self-induced guilt for not being able to better control her reactions to stupid things like retarded buses).

i only wish i were a pretty crier; i would have been able to see the rest of the peace ribbon project that showed up in the square on thursday afternoon. since the med-switch i have been getting teary a lot more (it's hard to sing in the car sometimes becase i get choked up to some of the songs; esp. la ley's amate y salvate because it's so pertinent nowadays.)

so back to the topic at hand: WMD. when i burst into tears: somewhere in the middle during the section about journalists being targeted. they showed a hotel room that had been shot, or something, i didn't get all the details, but there were two bloodied people and lots of screaming, fear, and shouting in french among other languages. at this point my chin began to tremble. i asked boyfriend in my asthma-ey (like when your windpipe is swollen because you're trying not to cry) is he insinuating that... that we... i mean, the US... targeted these journalists? to which he answered yes... and then i could hold it in no longer. i burst into tears.

it breaks my heart that the "mainstream media" could be so irresponsible. i can't blame those who went along with the "let's go to war, y'all"... or, i could understand that they really believed in it, and part of that was because of the "militainment" and the news people being fucking lapdogs to the military, administration, etc.

and what breaks my heart even more is that every soldier going in there believes in what he is doing... in other words, i can't blame them for the war; they were following orders.

pardon my lack of clarity (and understanding). it's just we're in such a god forsaken mess and... and... and...

i keep reminding my boyfriend how lucky he is to be a foreigner, he doesn't have to feel any responsibility for what's happened. (and i am thisclose to going on ebay and searching for a canadian passport cover; all the nice ones have the us. stamp on them).

he doesn't have to get personally involved with it because he is not part of the "we" so rampant in journalism here. or so i guess. in the lead-up to the war i was in buenos aires, so all the news i was getting about it was in spanish and from a "they/the US" perspective. boyfriend made a very good point last night about this; so much stuff was written from a "we" perspective. which i imagine elicits a personal or emotional response. would things have been any different had they used "they/the us" or a more detached perspective?

and i keep asking myself, how would it have been for me had i been here? would i feel the same way about it? would i have succumbed to the spell/kool-aid effect?

i really do not know.