Open Letter to Millionares

Dear Mr or Ms 1% of the Population,

Consider this the mother of all grant proposals, the grandpapa of all scholarship essays, the big enchilada of investment requests. I am a member of the between the cracks part of my generation, the twenty-somethings working crap jobs with barely running cars and massive student loans with no end in sight. We are the teetering on oblivion, the mac and cheese people with fifteen bucks in the bank and a week until payday. We are the ones with no stock but potential, no parents to bankroll us, no connections with the right people or the right places. We are dreaming. We are scheming. But our light bill is late and we are not sure if we are going to make rent.

My parents live in a motel 6 in rural Georgia. I myself live with my husband and my cat in an apartment the size of my thumb in Atlanta. My grandmother still works at 72 years old; my brother lives and breathes music on the other side of the country in his house with fourteen other people no car. In my teenage years my parents were four states away and my grandmother and I lived in a little green HUD home, we bought our groceries with food stamps. I have moved twenty six times. I am twenty-four.

I dream big. One day, I will work in the White House. I will write speeches that move people, that stun people with the weight of my words, with the implication of my dramatic pauses. Audiences will weep at the way I string letters together in such a way that makes music out of policy initiatives, poetry of budget reports. Today I will figure out how to make hamburger helper with no hamburger.

The point is this: I have slowly inched my way through college, paying my own way as I go, scrimping and worrying my away through because that is the only way I know how. I have years to go, attending part time as I do out of the sheer necessity to work full time and not pay extortion rates in tuition. I do not belong to any subgroup special enough to warrant lots of scholarship money, my parents are not Eskimos; I am not a daughter of any revolution of any kind. I have written the essays; I have begged all the correct people. But regardless, no letters of “congratulations and here is your check” ever come. In short, I’m screwed.

So rich folk, here is my proposal. I would have put it in a nice folder with graphs and charts for you, but Kinko’s is expensive and as you may have gathered, I’m on a budget. I need funding. I need tuition and books, a new car, some financial security and shoes without holes in them. Every day we are bombarded with media dedicated to spelling out for us the ways in which the obscenely wealthy blow their money. They invest in nightclubs, they buy restaurants that fail, and that’s the sane ones. Others will spend 5,000.00 on a belt or spa treatment for their dogs. Faced with this galling waste of funds, I have come up with something valid for you to do with this excess: give it to me. Not all of it mind you, just a fraction. I am a simple girl.
Think of it as a long-term investment on your quality of life. A patriotic duty you can do for your fellow American. Investing in people, as I believe the phrase goes. I promise to do good things with my education, as is proof from my past volunteer experience and work with various human rights organizations. I will not blow it on drugs, booze or overpriced clothing. My modestly priced, fuel efficient car will be used for driving to school and work and, god willing, any internships I am able to get. Think of me as the daughter you never knew you had. In return I will spend my life working hard and contributing to society as a whole.

This, in my opinion, is an excellent opportunity for the both of us. All you have to do, instead of spending the money on that new pair of shoes or night on the town, is help me get through this particularly difficult part of my evolution. Try staying in, renting movies, or buying shoes from Target. They have great stuff.

In closing, I would just like to say that I am sure you get requests for your money daily. I am also aware that this sort of request is unorthodox somewhat forward. But myself and the rest of the between the cracks tax bracket don’t have time for polite pandering anymore. We are running out of determination and ramen noodles. We need your help.

Sincerely and with great affection,
Kristina Cates
Not so gentlewoman and would be scholar

Multiple Sclerosis Manifesto

A sense of humor is a priority in life. It is important to be able to laugh at yourself (and others. frequently). To be able to make a gag out of your pain is to be able to express that pain to friends without becoming that bitchy, moany person everybody hates to speak to. I think that I am able to make funny stories out of all my medical mishaps, the indignaties of weekly shots and faulty limbs. I have great answers to queries about the IV hanging our of my arm (easy access for my heroin habit) and my gimpy leg (it ain't easy swinging around on that stripper pole. you try it sometime).

But on the other hand.

I feel like my patience is thinning. The drugs get stronger, the pain gets worse, the naps get longer, my jokes get more pathetic. Most of the time I don't even try. And the problem with my little plan is that with all my smiles and sarcasm, I don't get to talk about it when it really sucks. No one expects it when the funny girl is in a bad mood. With two jobs, a husband and a cat, I need an agenda for the coming year to maintain my sanity.

So these are the finer points of my plan to not lose my mind in 2006:

1.) Im cutting my hair. Blowdrying it into anything that even vaguely resembles human hair is a pain in the ass, and it saves on shampoo.
2.) Roadtrip. I have to get the hell out the this city at some point. Just for a little excursion, this way I can limp around somewhere new.
3.) I am buying a cane. This is something I have avoided for a while, but what the hell. It makes me a little more able to make it on those long trips from the building to the car. I think I am going to paint it hot pink though.
4.) I will bribe my husband with sexual favors in order to get some dishes done. Sex is good, dishes are bad, and I hate standing at the sink that long. Laying down I can do.
5.) I am going to set aside money every month to get a massage. It hurts like hell, and I'm not so excited about strangers seeing me naked, but screw it. If it means I can get out of the bathtub by myself its worth it.
This is just the beginning of the list. More will come. These are just the beginning of my plans to make my life easier this year. I don't really care about looking like the big strong female anymore. Im weak dammit. Get over it.

Ann Coulter: Blonde Fascist with a Big Gun

I have a theory. I think that the Queen of the Half Truth, the Adolf Hitler with Better Hair, the one, the only Ann Coulter may be.....the devil. No, hang in with me here, this will make sense eventually.

Yes, she is cute in a sorority girl with no self esteem kinda way, but have you ever heard her actually talk? Pure evil. The fact that mainstream media even allows this vapid, irritating little spin monster to headline anywhere leaves me with little faith in viewer intelligence. And hey, I can handle conservatives with a point of view, with an argument, something to bring to the table. All sides of the argument should be heard and debate is a lost art in this country. But this woman couldn't stand up to a valid argument to save her life.

The crap that she spouts off on a daily basis can only be called hate speech, as she shows during a question and answer session at a college in October. Ms. Coulter was insulted by what she saw during a recent airport visit. Too many "blond haired people" were being searched for her taste. In her opinion we could speed things up a bit if we just used a "color swatch" to determine who should be searched. Are you kidding me? Color swatches? Could there possibly be someone so bigoted, so idiotic to be found not under a white sheet or sig heil?

But on to other issues, shall we? Lets talk about a cause near and dear to Ms. Coulters heart: womens rights. How about her article villifying female cops? An article titled, by the way, "Freeze! I just got my nails done!" Brushing aside all the hard work and lives saved by female police officers around the country, her entire argument is summed up in the oh so pithy point that "women just arent as strong as men." Well here's a thought, Ann. Why don't you try telling that to the well trained, well armed female members of your local polic force? I am sure they would love your input. And speak for yourself, though I don't see you at home with the kids waiting by the door with your husbands slippers. How's hypocrisy treating you these days, anyway?

To sum up, years from now, when we are all old and grey, we will look back at this era of authors and political commentary and throw up in our mouths a little bit when we think of Ann Coulter. But no worries. I'm sure some day soon she will come out on national tv with her live-in lover Ruth and explain that her years of badgering anyone not white and Christian was just a self hate thing she had to work through. Until that day, faithful reader, just change the channel.

Just say Happy Holidays and forget about it already

As if this time of year couldn't get any more aggravating, here comes some ridiculous time wasting argument about the "attack" on Christmas. Apparently by taking into consideration the other holidays found in the month of December, we are doing the equivalent of spitting on the baby Jesus and kicking the wise men in the nuts. What an absolute load of crap.

The day after Thanksgiving we are bombarded with cartoon santa's, chirping carolers and constant suggestions on how we can buy our families love this season. There is no avoiding it, it is everywhere: our radios, television programing, grocery stores, hell even porn shops get in on the action.

Is the Christian religion so fragile, so minority a belief that its central holiday can be demeaned by acknowleding that there are other holidays? I'm thinking no. Christianity is even more prevelent this month than fruitcake, if you don't believe me then have a looksy at the greeting card section in your local grocery store. Look for a Christmas card. Any trouble? No, I didn't think so. Now look for a Hannukah or Kwanza card. Find more than three? Give yourself a pat on the back, you live in a fairly progressive area of our beautiful nation.

Oh, and do banks, grocery stores and every other business in the continental United States close down for Kwanza? Yeah, thats what I thought.

And one more pop quiz...

What day is Kwanza anyway?

There you go. I think the sacred day of spoiling our children rotten and running up our credit card bills is safe.