It seems like the more time I know I have, the less time I find.
Does that even make sense? I mean, with me only working for the newspaper now, there are four days a week, sometimes, where I don’t have anything to go out and do. I can sit around my house and do what I like, when I like. At least, that’s the theory.
Now that I have more time, I’m spending it doing things that I may not be interested in doing. Granted, I enjoy going to Baton Rouge to play Yu-Gi-Oh, but doing so every week gets draining. Then there’s the time I spend sharing the television, which has become less of an issue now that I’ve found the PSVita charger and can use Remote Play for Final Fantasy XIV.
I just feel like my life is too full. I want a day where I can sit on the couch, build a nest, and lose myself in a fantasy world without the outside world intruding. I need time to myself to just exist, you know? Time is slipping away where even weeks are passing by in a flash now.
I hate it.
I saw something recently that annoyed me. It was an excerpt from a history book that described the European occupation of North America and its bloody history in bland terms. To whit, it stated that Europeans asked the native peoples of the continent to move. The levels of wrong this statement perpetuates cannot be counted by me, a bisexual white woman, but I’ll try to quantify it.
First, there was no “asking” involved. Any native that tried to fight back against their European conquerors was slaughtered. They were driven out of their lands with blood and guns until, eventually, they were “gifted” a portion of their ancestral lands by the United States government. As if the lands their ancestors lived and died on didn’t belong to them by default.
This new narrative erases the bloody history of Europeans thundering across a land that belonged to others first. Men, women, and children were slaughtered. When Natives stood up, they were cut down. As far as I’m aware, the Wounded Knee massacre is the deadliest in United States history. Assigning that dubious title to other mass shootings erases the trauma faced by our Native precursors.
We, white people, marched Natives across the land. The Trail of Tears didn’t get that name because the Natives quietly agreed to go. They were forced at gunpoint, often with only what they could carry, to march to new lands across the country from where their fathers and mothers lived and died. Many natives died on that journey. It was a harrowing time for them.
We cannot erase our history with bland words and blanket statements. We must fight to keep the worst of the worst in our history books. It may be shameful, it may make us uncomfortable, but it deserves to be known. We shouldn’t celebrate it in any way by glorifying it, no, but we shouldn’t cast that past aside.
Happy belated Indigenous Peoples Day, everyone. Remember the native lives that were taken to give us the country we now reside in.
It’s been weeks already since I posted an update? Time certainly flies! A lot has been going on in the area, so I’ve been writing a lot more articles than normal. I’ve also been playing a lot of Final Fantasy XIV – I’ve gotten my first gatherer class to 70, so now it’s time for endgame fishing to see what exactly that is. Since they reworked Scholar, my main class, when Stormblood was released, I’ve been less interested in playing that class. Leveling another class to 70 is taking a while, so I’ve been queuing as Red Mage and fishing while I wait.
I’ve got one thing to say about fishing: RNG rules your life. Also, I’m freaking tired of my specialty lures being lost! The vast distance between Kugane and Ala Mhigo means I’m wasting thousands of gil on teleportation fees whenever I need to go buy another lure. I’m supposed to be trying to MAKE money with this class!
And thus goes more days in my life. Ah well, at least I enjoy it. Now could someone please tell my plot bunnies that no, Danny Fenton is NOT the son of Bucky Barnes so I can go about my day?