Xenophobia Ties My Guts In Knots

Whenever I listen to Americans talk about their fellow human beings as "those people who come here from other countries and take jobs from American citizens" I feel dirty. I want to validate their frustration and anger at not being able to find a job, at being passed over for raises and promotions, or at being looked down upon by some of the immigrants they have encountered. They have that mentality because of their very real experiences; they didn't wake up one morning and randomly say, "I would like to be a xenophobe." But that "Us versus Them" mentality that leads them to say, "Go back to where you came from!" makes me sad.

Becoming A Biker Chick

By 7:30 yesterday evening I had had it, but I pushed through another 30 minutes of work to make up for a slightly shorter day on Tuesday. At 8PM sharp I submitted my work log, logged off the system, and shut down my computer. Fifteen minutes later I was in my motorcycle gear and pulling off from the curb in the dusk to do a couple of passes through our neighborhood.

At the end of an hour (which seemed like just a few minutes), I had gradually broadened my scope to about a quarter-mile radius. I successfully navigated up and down hills, including restarting without stalling from a dead stop at a sign or signal. (I even remembered to cancel my turn signal...most of the time.) I safely signaled and turned both left and right in traffic. I both gave and accepted the right of way. I appropriately used the horn.

Not only that, but my mental exhaustion had lifted and was replaced with meditative calmness.

I have never been one to enjoy driving a car just for the sake of driving. Driving a car bores me. I had hoped learning to ride a motorcycle would help me appreciate driving for pleasure. After seeing how soothing riding was for me last night, I am sure I'm on the right track.