I Want My Mommy!

Well, maybe not my actual mother, more like a metaphorical one.

This happens to me sometimes: I regret my height. Because I'm mildly tall, just over six feet, people frequently mistake me for an adult. They ask me things, they expect things of me, they treat me as if I know what I'm doing. Most often the people doing this are me, but that's not the point.

I have very little idea how to live. I no longer have much of anything in the way of definitive answers. I used to, but not any more. I'd forgotten how much I wished for someone to tell me the answers until just lately when I was watching the US Senate debate those judge nominations.

These Senators, I realized, are mostly lawyers. Lawyers, by training and profession, are somewhat more lax with the truth than I'd prefer and instead rise to the top and get rich and famous by being able to argue effectively. Arguing effectively, I'd argue, isn't the same as telling the truth.

I don't know what's going on with Social Security, with Gitmo, with most anything any more. I don't hear answers, I hear slanted arguments, and it makes me sad. I don't have time to research all this shit, and I want someone, like my mom, to tell me what's going on.

Only my mom had her own agendas. Maybe it's just that I'm finally realizing that nothing can be summed up in an hour or even a day. Things honestly are complicated, and the best we can do is pick the less horrible option.

I wish life was simple, the way I remember it being.