I have a house full of kids tonight, and three of them are from a very rich family and they are used to getting their way and whatever food they want and toys and presents and more toys and more presents. I'm feeling a bit resentful because really I wasn't prepared for all of them to be here but I want it to be fun but I have very little food today and not so many toys and they want and want and want and so I feel annoyed at their lack of gratitude. So I take a break and read the news about Myanmar and then I go to another website and read short stories of pain and incest and abuse and moments of betrayal and seconds of pleasure. And I remember that these kids that I am resenting have a father who drank and did drugs and ignored and a mother whose father beat her and her siblings and while she might live in a palace, she is just trying to shield her kids from the pain that her father beat into her because he grew up in the concentration camps and only knew horror. And we are so lucky thousands of miles away from a cyclone that has killed hundreds of thousands. and I bitch about our president but he is not telling the UN and its aide to go away while more perish every day beside rotting bodies. I saw a photo of a thin old woman balancing two pails of water on her shoulders as she walked past corpses and rubble, eyes straight ahead and focused to keep her sanity. How lucky we are to be able to write about moments of pain and betrayal and incest and insanity - my child microwaves her pepperoni and is yelling about sharing and sad that her father has not bothered to meet her, but across the world a baby is dying held by her mother's corpse as maggots eat closer to her eyes and a group of fearful men decide that they cannot and will not accept aide from America.
