Going Rouge

Yes, it says 'rouge'. I suppose one could easily mistake that for 'rogue' in my case. I am quite the renegade these days...

*wink*

I don't know what finally prompted me to plunge into the red-headed scene again, but I can only guess that the box of coloring that had been loitering in my cabinet for well over a year now was one influential factor.

I hemmed and hawed...thought and thought. What for?
It's just hair. Besides, red heads have more fun, right?!

It's been about seven years since I last went rouge. Okay, so it turned out a little blotchy, and the quality isn't to my perfectionist liking. But who cares, right? I'll just slap some more color on it in a few weeks.

Typical me--the laid-back just deal with it attitude and the want for constant flux.

Luckily I have always been open to change. I believe that rocking the routine can do us all good once in a while. Getting too engulfed in everyday life, it's activities and chores can't be good for the continued growth and development of the mind. Switch things up a bit, do something differently, rearrange a room, read a book that completely opposes your views.

It's good for you.

While most loathe change, I relish it. It keeps me interested, excited and compelled to do with my life what I desire. Without it I feel stuck, lost and completely bored. One reason, I assume, that I am constantly on the move. If it was up to me, my 'home' would change quite often; I feel almost claustrophobic if I stick around one place too long.

This past year has brought with it many elements of change. Most notably my father's illness and my willing and tenacious efforts towards fighting off 'the bad guys' (ie. Big Coal). In regards to my father, all things must change. He can no longer do even the minute things he once did (at least not without added effort) and his body must be cleansed of all toxins if he hopes to beat this monster. Our home is slowly turning into a 'toxin-free zone' and our medicine cabinets filling up with an A-Z listing of supplements.

Then there is the coal war. My efforts have rendered me, to many, somewhat of a hero. Just days ago I received thanks from a friend's brother in Nevada. Admittedly, I have been referred to as such in the past, namely during my fight to overcome illness well over a dozen years ago. But that was a personal battle. What I have become ensconced in presently is a battle in which the health and well-being of individuals all over world is at stake. The changes involved are both positive and negative. Yes, I am thanked, but I am also loathed by many. In response, I have changed things up a bit, and--crazy me--am actually finding the entire situation somewhat laughable.

With the end of a decade only days ahead, one must wonder what changes are in store...this year has certainly been a trying one, not only for me, but for my family in its entirety. But good or bad, we must face change head-on and with a positive attitude. As Nietzsche is noted with saying:

"You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star."

Just Call Me...Queen Whitney

"You really should check into your ancestry. You might find out that you're a millionaire!"





Besides asking me out for a steak dinner, this was the concluding remark from one of my 'testers' today. Leave it to me, I swear. I can always find the one weirdo in the bunch. Or he can find me, perhaps.





Prior to encouraging me to trace my roots for monetary purposes, Mr. X talked on and on about...everything. He was the only individual in my afternoon testing session, so it didn't necessarily matter...except that he wouldn't shut up. Besides rambling on about illegal immigrants, the President and Tiger Woods (and his mistresses), Mr. X found great joy in discussing...me.





First I was encouraged to be a waitress in Vegas. You know, just "get all dolled up and act like you wanna go home with the guys...all while taking their money."





Hmmm...okay. I lived in Vegas for 13 years; the thought of working in a casino as a keno girl or waitress certainly crossed my mind on many occasions. Vegas is nothing but a fantasy land...it really wouldn't bother me one bit to dress up in character for a few hours every day. But, let's face it; it will likely never happen.





Next.





My initial--and continued--response to his next suggestion was...probably a deer-in-headlights-look. I didn't really know what to say. What comes out of peoples' mouths just really baffles me; seemingly more and more all the time. While reading my required informational booklet aloud, I was interrupted to engage in the following conversation:





"Are you English?" he asked.





"Am I English?"





"Yeah, are you from England?"





"No. But my family originally came from parts of England...."








"Mmm...you look like you are from England."





{deer in headlights look}





"You have that look....like you are royalty. Do you know who Queen Elizabeth is?"





"Yes."





"Yeah, you look like a descendant of the royal family. Remember...what was her name...Queen Diana...?"





"Princess Diana.."





"Yeah, she was next in line to take over from Queen Elizabeth...what a horrible accident that was."





{deer in headlights look continues}





"Well, I can't say that I have ever gotten a comment like this before..."





"Yeah, you have that look...you look like you should be wearing a crown."








Ummm......okay. As stated to Mr. X, this is a new one, even for me.





But I am not so sure that I see the resemblance.....

Hmmm....maybe (??).

Well, I figure that I might as well take advantage of my new found ancestry. Just go ahead and call me Queen Whitney from here on out. Don't mind that I haven't the crown yet--I'm sure I can find a cheap one to fit my needs. Oh, and all of those millions of dollars that I am likely to inherit...I'll get back to you on that one.

Winds of Change

"The Wind Energy Capital of the World" boasts a billboard to the east of Sweetwater. It speaks of Nolan County, Texas, home to thousands upon thousands of these gentle giants; wind turbines.

I look at them and get inspired. Relaxed. Happy. I'm not fibbing when I say that I could sit and watch them all day and be perfectly content. They represent, to me, the future of American--and hopefully world--energy. They resemble a hope that, in the end, cleaner sources of electricity will conquer...and win.

Despite the fact that I can look out various windows in my home and see these monstrosities daily, they never cease to amaze me. Lining the horizon or filling entire fields, they command attention...yet stand there in a sort of shy stance. They want to be seen, heard, understood...yet prefer to be left alone to do what they do best.

With my current 'job' duties, I am required to drive hundreds of miles through three counties in the immediate area. Daily I wander through the masses of turbines, watching as their delicate blades turn in the west Texas breeze. I can't help but smile.

As I continue fighting against Ole' King Coal, I must think to the winds; the winds of change. There is still hope--although it seems quite little at some times--that our future will be a cleaner one; That renewable energy will prevail.

At least it gives me something to look forward to; something to keep fighting for.

The E-Mail

This morning I made the effort to send out the following e-mail to all Abilene City Commissioners. Like I have said before, they're going to have to kill me to shut me up. I have received two responses thus far and plan to reply as necessary.

Council Members:

I was in attendance of Thurday (12/3/09) morning's public hearing, but was forced to leave before being able to speak. Unlike Tenaska representatives and Sweetwater officials, most of us are not getting paid to defend our case and have jobs to go to.


I would like to express my concerns regarding not only the sale of water to Tenaska, but the project in its entirety. I have been an active opponent to this project for well over a year now, and have yet to hear any 'positive' aspects that do not revolve around monetary gains. I am certainly not opposed to the economic development of any region, but there comes a point when we need to look beyond money, and consider the wants and needs of our fellow citizens, future generations and the environment in which we all live.


I am three courses away from recieving my M.S. in Environmental and Waste Management. I can guarantee that not one of my thick, over-priced textbooks has yet to boast the benefits of any of the emissions that will be produced by the Tenaska plant. Quantities emitted are irrelevant; they are dangerous pollutants. Period. I know that air quality is not what you are voting on, but these pollutants will be falling, on a constant basis, in your watershed.


I am not a native Texan. I moved here only about 3.5 years ago from Las Vegas, another very dry, water-drained area. I have no ties here and, frankly, have not had a very warm welcome thanks to my courage to stand up for what I believe. I find it quite sad that I am standing up for the health of your state, while native residents work to destroy what makes West Texas what it is; clean air, clean water sources and a safe environment in which to live.


I am certainly no fool, and realize that Tenaska has the financial edge in this debate, being able to pay professionals to conduct 'studies' that show nothing but positive outcomes. I have been called many names. That's fine. In the end, I ask that you simply put the supposed economic gains aside when considering your decision regarding the sale of water. Many peoples' lives will be negatively impacted by the development of said coal plant, mine included. We moved here to escape the noise, pollution and unfriendly character of Las Vegas. My home is within 1.5 miles of the Tenaska construction site.

In conclusion, I find the greed that has overtaken Sweetwater to be very disturbing. I can only hope that you all will have more character when making your decisions. Thank you for your time and consideration.

-- Whitney Root

I leave this entry untitled because my thoughts are so scrambled anymore. So much is happening that I oftentimes expect to wake up from the nightmare at any given moment.


*A visit from the Sheriff's Office today confirmed my father's hunch; the shot into our garage door was intentional. Now they are shooting at us. Warning us. So what comes next?


*Being who I am, I attended the public hearing held this morning regarding the sale of effluent water to Tenasty by the City of Abilene. The meeting wore on and on, and I eventually had to leave without speaking. They saw me there though, and that was what I wanted more than anything else. You can shoot at me, but you're gonna have to kill me. I have to laugh at the fact that, none of 'them' will look at me. They see me...they know who I am, trust me....and they quickly look away. Cowards.


*On Sunday and Monday I experienced what I will deem the craziest 36 hours of my life thus far. I drove my father to Dallas on Sunday to attend a doctor's appointment on Monday. A 3.5 hour trip turned into something more along the lines of 7 hours with Thanksgiving traffic and my loss of the freeway I needed factored in. I was witness to the illness that is attempting to take over his body and his mind. It was like nothing I have ever seen before; nothing I hope to ever see again. I was once described as "unflappable" by a professor and peers. This may have "flapped" me.


Our appointment Monday was daunting. The specialists all but said that he has Lou Gehrig's disease. From that moment on, it was a steady stream of social workers, family councilors, equipment providers....you name it...who came in to help us and offer their condolences. Exhausting.

Luckily, I was allowed one laugh that day. I went to lunch at the clinic cafeteria at the Burger House. Upon receiving my receipt, however, it was listed as the Buger House.


Then there was the testing and the blood work. The poking, the prodding. We arrived at 8:30 am and didn't walk out until nearly 5:30. I still had to drive home. It was midnight before I arrived.


I walked into the Council Chambers this morning with mixed feelings. Would I speak? Cry? Scream? Smack someone? As I sat with other opponents and cried, I realized that this is exactly what big businesses want. They want to break us "little people" down to a point where we are too exhausted and worn to care or participate anymore. They want to scare us with their threats and malicious lies.


It saddens me to see that the only "positive" aspects of this project are economically based. I always knew the world was a greedy place, but never so bad as what I am experiencing in regards to this fight. Peoples' lives are being endangered, their livelihoods being destroyed before their eyes. All for the economic gain of a few. It truly is sickening.


I may be worn down at the moment, and trust me, I am. But just give me some time and I will be back to my old self. I won't give up on fighting this coal plant, but only hope that our opposition will continue to grow and thrive. However bleak the horizon may look, Tenasty still has many hurdles to jump. A lot can happen in a few months' time....


And we are fighting the disease as best we can, too. We are taking the natural route, evening going to see a holistic dentist next month to remove my dad's mercury-laden fillings. As horrific as this disease is, it has been halted by others. I believe that there is a cure for everything, although the greed of the medical world wont allow for it to happen.


Let's keep hoping. Hoping for health and hoping that Tenasty will leave our lives forever. Anything is possible.

The Shot

So, was it a random shot or an intentional 'warning'?

Several weeks ago my father began noticing strange little markings;


a weird scratch in the truck...







a very strange mark in the drywall of the garage...

Today he found the bullet hole...

Yup, a clear shot right through the garage door that hit the truck, then went on to tear through the drywall in the garage and jam into, most likely, a stud.

My father, who has been around guns his whole life, is sure that this is no random shot. It is clearly a direct shot from, likely, a handgun. No stray ricocheted bullet; no hunter mistaking our garage door for a deer.

Someone who wanted to send out a clear message:

Stop talking.

Based upon what we can figure, the shot was likely fired on October 14. The same day, coincidentally, that all three of us were participating in a preliminary trial for our contested case hearing against Tenasty. No one was home, a rare occasion around here. We don't leave the house vacant for this very reason...we are afraid some nutcase will do something drastic.

Whether it is a pro-Tenasty being or not, we may never know. My hunch says it is. They want us to shut up, and left a clear message attesting to just that. We are likely on their 'most wanted' list; I am always plastered all over every newspaper and news station around, alerting the public to their (Tenasty's) true pollution potentials; my testimony on that October day allowed for the Environmental Defense Fund to defend our cause, my mother's allowed for the Sierra Club; that same morning a front-page article in the local paper was riddled with quotes from my father.

We speak out a lot, and 'they' know it.

Speaking out for what one believes can be a dangerous business, especially when so much money is at stake. The coal industry is powerful and ruthless, as are many of the supporters in the Sweetwater area. That we 'dare' to disagree is extremely brave on our parts.

What makes me laugh is the fact that Texans are supposed to be so free, so individualistic, such warriors in a government-run country. They are the people who speak up for their rights, their beliefs...

right?

Well, until those rights and beliefs disagree with some 'powerful' being's. Very few people in the town are willing to speak out. They are terrified.

So what happened to that 'Wild West' spirit of Texas and it's want for secession and freedom?

It's a joke.

I'm not even from the state and, based upon all of this garbage, would love to leave and never return. This considered, I am the one fighting to protect the land, the air, the water and the rights of the people. Me, an 'elitist' New Englander. I honestly could not care less about this backwards state and its wacked out people. But I still fight for it. They work to destroy it, and they are from here.

Go figure.

Thursday the 3rd of December is our next public hearing, this time in Abilene. I wasn't going to go. I'm worn out and over this entire issue. But the 'discovery' today has made me want to go again....has made me want to continue fighting.

Your 'warning' back-fired, buddy. Now you've got me even more riled up.

Adventures in Mitchell County

Okay....perhaps the usage of 'adventure' in this instance is a bit inappropriate. It just really sounds good in the title.

The only activities that could potentially lead to any sort of 'adventures' in Mitchell County, Texas would involve:


the tipping of one of these..........................



Or the riding of one of these.....................................

Admittedly, I have failed to partake in either activity. Yet. In my quest to find something, anything to do on my 'work days', it may come to that.

I arrived in Colorado City at 9:30 am, and, yet again, no one showed up for the tests that I am required to administer. Crap, I thought. Now what do I do all day?

From the picture to your left, you can see that my day was spent 'working' really hard. I drove all over the County, just hoping that I would come across something that I could tape a census poster to.

When this mission failed tremendously....

I acted as tourist....at least I learned some oil history.

In retrospect, I guess I could have taped a sign or two to some cows....

Road signs pointed me towards the town of Cuthbert....but it took me ages to actually find the place. In the end, it was a dead end. Literally.

Yeah, Cuthbert is a graveyard. I figured that promoting the census jobs or hanging a poster there would end up a....dead issue....

So I drove. And drove. And drove. There is A LOT of nothing in these parts of Texas....

But cotton....

And this nice couch.....

In the middle of nowhere.

About to lose my mind, I decided to use my time wisely and walk a few laps around the local track. In training we were warned that we may need, at times, to run. You know, from people with guns or killer dogs...typical stuff. So, walking the track provided me with some needed strength training for the job, right?

I can only hope that you were able to live vicariously through my Mitchell County experience.

Make the most of each day....make fun of it if you have to!

Ignorance is Bliss

Oh, how I long for the 'good ole days' when I was too young to care about the world around me, the corrupt politics that run our country or the woes of everyday life. Remember those days when nothing mattered but who you would play with at recess or how you scored on a spelling test? When summer days were spent exploring and subsequent nights playing soccer with your peers? And what about the games of tag and hide-and-seek and the endless bike-rides through town....

Those were the days, weren't they?

Oftentimes I wish I could return to that blissful state of pure, innocent ignorance.

Life was so much easier. Perhaps it felt rough at the time---passing that social studies test would require significant effort, or doing 20 situps in P.E. might strain some under-used muscles---but the older I get the more I wish I could just....ignore everything around me.

And some people certainly can. There are those who couldn't care less about who is voted in as President or who represents them at a local level. They don't care about retirement funds, bank accounts or financing a new home. They couldn't locate Iraq on a map if paid to do so, and really don't care that we are engaged in a worthless, tiresome war. They live in their own little dream state, ignorant of everything around them.

But are they so wrong?

I despise watching the news or reading the paper. Rare is the day that anything positive makes its way into our media archives. Riddled with death, destruction, corruption, murder, abductions and political fights...news stations and newspapers are essentially the annals of doom.

And perhaps it is the conspiracy-theorist inside me, but I have to question whether our votes really count, City Hall actually can be fought and whether doctors are actually out to kill us rather than heal us.

All the questions, the cares, the worries, the fights and the voting. Do they really matter in the end?

Perhaps returning to that ignorant state, careless and carefree, would do us all some good once in a while. In the deep confines of the Alaskan arctic, where news of any sort comes late--if at all--I found myself feeling my absolute best. If I wanted to seek out the latest buzz I could certainly head to an online news source. But it took effort on my part; it wasn't constantly all around me. Was it the overall ignorance of the world's happenings that contributed to my feelings of absolute health?

Likely.

Ignorance can certainly render bliss...and 'blissful' is an adjective that I feel we all need to embrace more often.

Building on my Quiet Strength

I am a very quiet person.

Always have been; likely always will be.

Finally, I read a book that allows me to feel good about my quiet nature.

Just yesterday I finished The Introverted Leader: Building on your Quiet Strength, a book that I had been waiting all summer to get my hands on. I knew, based upon the reviews and synopsis, that it would suit me perfectly. It does.

I have always been tormented for being quiet, and continue to be to this very day. We live in an extroverted world, where relationships (both personal and business) are built upon being loud, rowdy, going out for drinks or going to the club. I am not a drinker, a clubber, nor loud--as I have established. Therefore, building relationships of any kind is extremely difficult for me.

It isn't easy being quiet. In school you are picked on and called inappropriate names. I actually did have a classmate who, rather than learn my name, referred to me as "smart girl". I can still picture one moment when he continually called me, hoping to garner the answer to an assignment question, and I--being who I am--blatantly ignored him. I have a name and it is not 'smart girl'.

In high school people thought I was mean or that I never did anything but homework. It is as if they pictured me buried in a pile of paperwork, deep down in some dreary basement...doing nothing but playing with calculators and chemistry sets all day. Just because I am quiet?

Huh?

As I grow older, many of the annoyances of my peers are disappearing. I no longer (usually) have to hear about how small my boobs are or how round my butt is. People don't tend to care about my choice of clothing or desired hobbies. But people still care that I am soft spoken. I get comments all the time, and can never figure out what the big issue really is.

I think that the loud, extroverted people of the world just fail to understand us mere introverts. We are seen as weak and boring; uninteresting and snobbish. I fail to see any of those traits in myself, or in any other introverts that I know.

We are so misunderstood.

And what a shame it is. Really. We quiet ones are listeners, thinkers and highly intelligent. Not that I am boasting on my brain power, but it is a proven fact. Those who speak less are generally far more intelligent than those who can't shut up. We tend to take in all the details, run them through our heads a thousand times....and then finally come up with an answer or opinion that is well thought out, detailed and intense.

It's called thinking before you speak...and potentially make a complete fool of yourself.

I always feel as though others think I am a complete idiot. In big groups I rarely speak up; freak encounters are very uncomfortable for me; meeting new people is difficult. But society has decided that if you don't speak up, don't make your presence known and dominate a conversation, you are clearly too stupid to care, too snobby to participate or absolutely uninterested in anything that anyone has to offer. Quite the opposite.

As I have already suggested, us quiet folks like to listen and digest. Speak to one of us and every word of your monologue will be heard. Trust me. We are some of the best listeners out there. And we care. I have always prided myself on the fact that anyone could tell me their deepest, darkest secret and it would never escape my lips. The opinions requested in regards to said secret would be genuine and true. The advice, as clear and absolute as possible.

We are hard to get to know, I will admit that outright. I, for one, rarely divulge many facts about myself or personal life. I know people notice and I know it annoys them. I had one person tell me that our friendship was 'one sided'. But to me, it is one's own choice what they choose to discuss with others. If you choose to let loose and tell me all of the family dirt....well, that is your choice. Don't expect me to do the same. Especially since I have little to no dirt to expose.

It doesn't make me any lesser of a friend, does it?

Thanks to Dr. Kahnweiler (author of the book) I can begin to work on becoming more of a respected presence in any situation. It is an acquired skill, not one that comes easily to any introvert. It takes much practice, believe it or not.

I oftentimes watch my extroverted peers who can walk into a room, join a conversation and become the life of the party....poof....just like that. People respect them, listen to them and laugh at their jokes. They look 100% comfortable with the situation at hand and act as pros in a competitive game.

I oftentimes wish that I could be like that....

And perhaps one day I will....

But it means a change in who I am and what makes me me.

Is it worth it?

Doubtful.

Let others appreciate me for who I am. Quiet personality and all.

Working Girl

No, I'm not working the corner of 5th and Elm in Sweetwater or walking the streets of Abilene's downtown. I haven't headed over to the strip club in Tye yet, either.

Although...it may be more fun than what I am doing now.

Instead...

I am working with the 2010 Census.

Let me tell you...there are those of us who can successfully work for the government. Then there are people like me.

Good thing it is a two-month gig and nothing more.

Gosh---it is so ridiculous. They are paying me to...do...nothing. And the pay isn't exactly shabby either. I get $.55 per mile driven alone.....and out in the middle of nowhere parts of West Texas...well, that can add up really fast.

Today was only my second official day out of training. I was sent to Sweetwater to conduct testing sessions. No one showed up. No one showed up yesterday, either, when I tacked on 120 miles to administer these same tests that have yet to be attended. Tomorrow I head even further into the far reaches of nowhere...and I am guessing the trend will continue. I'll let you know.

So, you ask...what is SO BAD about this picture? You are getting paid to drive around with the radio blasting; your pay-day starts from the moment to plunk down into the driver's seat; you have yet to do any real work.....sounds great, right?!

Perhaps. But I am not the type who can pretend to work then boast about how much I did all day. I saw way too much of this up in Alaska working with an Interagency conglomeration of governmental entities. Rare was the day that much actually got done. Oftentimes was the spending of money so gross that I wanted to scream.

And here I am again. I am in the middle of what I hate. Utilizing precious tax-payers' money to lounge around and pretend to be doing something.

Okay, yesterday I managed to keep myself really busy. I spent hours driving around a little town in the middle of nowhere, hanging pro-census signs. My enthusiasm waned upon seeing the 'SECEDE' bumper stickers and pro-life propaganda everywhere. But I held my own and did the job. Of course, I have 8 more weeks of work to come up with and, frankly, I did it all yesterday.

No offense to anyone....but if I was a true government employee I would have turned my efforts yesterday into about....ehhh...three weeks' worth of 'work'.

Am I right?

But today, my second whole day, I couldn't take it, and found myself chit-chatting with friends and neighbors more than actually doing any work. Maybe it is because I was in Sweetwater, the epicenter of the Tenasty soap-opera, where I refuse to make contact with the people who are attempting to construct a chemical-laden death box in my backyard.

Instead, I sat around a pecan shelling business with an older couple also opposed to the coal plant. We laughed and joked, conspired and questioned. These two---probably in their late 60s---have lived here since day one. They know all the town secrets. What a hoot this afternoon was. Rare is the day that I meet people who I really feel comfortable around and feel that I can truly express my opinions to. Here they are. They are absolutely amazing people...

Then I headed over to my neighbor's barber shop. Nothing like kickin' back in a Texas barber shop. Let me tell ya....

So, my day was good...and I did the work they set me out to do. I hung signs and showed up to proctor the tests....but....

Maybe I realize that, since no one is going to show up to the tests anyways, why kill myself trying to 'spread the word'...?

Oh well. Guess I shouldn't complain. In the end, my short stint's earnings should cover the entirety of next semester's expenses and maybe even the following. Working for the government always looks good on a resume and my efforts will keep me busy through the holiday break.

(If I can hold on for 8 weeks. Gosh, I hate being bored.)

Plus, I turned down the SCA Internship that I was offered in Albuquerque today. Not for me. One of those decisions that you question for a while afterwards. Was it right? Wrong? Should I have gone and tried it out? I'll leave that door unopened....and hopefully find another one waiting to be unlocked, with ample opportunities on the other side.

Climbing the Hill...

Yep, it's official. I am in my fourth decade of life. Wow.

Yikes.

Neat.

Geesh.

True to my nature, I don't really care. Birthday's are okay, I guess, but it is just another day to me.

Everyone anticipates a mental breakdown on the big 3-0. Women especially.

But since I have zero desire for children, my biological clock can keep ticking.

And since I don't have much desire to be married anytime soon, well...

I'll just carry on as if nothing has changed.

I shouldn't be too upset. Last night as my parents carried on a conversation about me as though I wasn't sitting in the same room, my father mentioned that, "she could pass for 20, you know."

Hmmm...can't feel too shabby about a comment as such. I know I look young for my age, but a decade younger??? Okay with me. No arguments here.

I am also only 3 classes (less the two I am finishing up currently) from receiving my first Master's degree. I wanted to have such a degree by the time I was 30....mission accomplished (almost).

I have travelled to many far-off, exotic locales around the world, seen a good majority of the United States and participated in some pretty cool stuff in the past three decades.

I have also experienced some crazy stuff and learned lessons that are priceless. All of these experiences only add to who I currently am and who I will be in the future.

So why the big deal about turning 30? Most people I talk to say their 30's were the best years of their lives. It's when many people meet and fall in love; when good jobs are finally found and ample income earned; when we finally start to feel confident about who we are, stop caring about what others think, and take pride in what we represent and believe in.

I have spent a good majority of my life caring about what others think. I worry about my appearance, my body, my opinions, my clothes. Am I pretty enough, skinny enough, talkative enough? Do they think I am weird, or do they like me? And on and on. It's ridiculous and time consuming.

Who cares?

So, to my 30's: I hope you are filled with great memories and ample happiness. I hope you bring me smiles and joy, continued adventures and more friends. May I remain healthy and vibrant, carefree and caring.

And...well...

How about an unanticipated, large sum of money???

Kidding.

Sort-of.

On Candid Camera?

I dreaded the idea of yet another individual walking by and causing for the odor to follow the draft and penetrate my bubble of fresh scent. I couldn't devise any more crafty ways to pull my shirt over my nose or block my sniffing powers with delicate placement of fingers or hands.

There was no hiding my dismay.

Maybe that is why the instructor in my first Census Bureau training course had his nose to the notebook and was blasting through our modules. Every time he glanced at me I gave him a look---either one of despair or one with humor in my eyes.

I'm not trying to be mean. But, with the camping experience that I have and the many times that I have gone a full fourteen days sans shower---I know when I smell. I can smell myself.


So sitting behind perhaps the most despicably smelling being that I have ever encountered for a full day was...........rough.

Wow. If this guy couldn't smell himself, then I suggest he go to an ear, nose and throat specialist for evaluation.

And leave it to me to be sitting directly behind him. With each passing trainer, the smell was carried in their draft...straight back to me. With every movement he made the stench grew stronger. I had a headache all day. I was in a state of 100% pure misery.

Then there was the loud fart he let out. And the huge belch. No qualms about it. Just let 'er rip. Full force.

Our decency and professionalism worn thin, the instructors and I could no longer hide our complete disdain. They would walk by holding their breaths, or display sour-puckered-pickle faces upon catching a sniff. I spent the last half of the day getting creative with my shirt, my jacket and even my hair---anything to mask the smell and protect my poor nose from the funk.

I would occasionally start laughing. I couldn't help it. Again, its not out of disrespect or meanness. I've smelled rank before too. But I wasn't attending my first (or any) day of work at a new job.

It's moments like these that make me stop and wonder if it was all a joke. Was I being taped...having a trick played on me? Was my patience and kindness being tested?

Tomorrow, I am sitting in the absolute, exact, extreme, complete opposite corner of Mr. Smelly. Let one of my class/team mates deal with the stench this time around. Yeah---take one for the team, buddy.

I earned my dues already.

Where to go...What to do...

With my 30th birthday rapidly approaching and my questioning of life rapidly increasing, I just feel....

lost.

Ever experienced that?

When you start looking back at all that you have, or haven't, accomplished with your time...
When you start comparing your life to others' in your peer group or age range...
When you ponder, often, what on earth you should be doing with your life...
If you are headed in the right direction...
The wrong direction...
No direction...

Am I having a mid-life crisis of sorts?
Am I being too hard on myself?

All the questions one must consider from time to time.

Just yesterday I had an interview for an internship position that I was uber excited to pursue. It sounded, on paper, like the perfect position for me. I couldn't wait. But...now...I am hoping that I don't get it; that way I won't have to explain why I'll be turning it down.

Yup, I don't think I will take it, even if I get it. It would allow for me to get my own apartment in Albuquerque and spend six months working alongside resource planners for the region. But...it is an office job; a sedentary, sit-on-your-ass-in-front-of-a-computer-screen-for-eight-hours- type of job. I think I would be miserable. Plus, what was described on paper was not necessarily the position I would be agreeing to. My gut says no. I know I need to trust my gut.

Tomorrow I start training for a job I got offered with the Census Bureau. It's a short-term gig, maybe 12 weeks, as a Recruiting Assistant. It pays fairly well, and garners $.55 per mile (which around these parts could prove quite lucrative). But, if I go tomorrow and they tell me I have to work my ass off or walk through the darkness into the ghetto...I'll turn it down. (Can't risk running into the pimp again!)

I have several internship applications sitting around, awaiting their drafting or placement into an envelope for shipment. I want to fill them out, want to be accepted....but at the same time...I don't.

So what is happening here?

All that is on my mind these days is travel. I wanted to spend a luxurious weekend at a fancy spa for my birthday or travel down to Costa Rica for the week. All of these plans have been avoided and pushed to the side while I deal with schoolwork and general life. But it's all I think about...all I want to do right now.

Until I started donating my summers to Alaskan Parks, I took a yearly summer trip...wherever. I would literally just get into my truck with my camping gear in tow and...go. I had vague plans in my mind, but I mostly made it up as I went. No time restrictions, no reservations. No plans. Just the spirit of the road.

It allowed for ample time to myself. There is nothing like the open road. The feeling of absolute freedom...wow. Indescribable. Blasting the radio with the windows down, taking in the beauty that America has to offer....those times will forever be ingrained in my mind as...just irreplaceable and compelling.

Even in Alaska I was allowed substantial alone time. I had my own cabin, nestled in the woods a good distance from anyone. Like the scary neighbor who everyone fears, no one ever came to visit me or bothered me. It was great sometimes, lonely at others. My third summer, however, I was forced to share my space. I felt crowded. No good.

So maybe my resistance to commitment at the moment is that need, that desire, to be on the go again...to spend some time with only me and the country-side I encounter. To feel that freedom again and resist plans. To have no schedule, no schoolwork, no...nothing.

But I am also assessing life. I do it often; it's the introverted, think-things-through type that I am. I remember in my early 20's, comparing myself to my friends and feeling insignificant. The only problem: all of my friends were at least 10 years older than me. How could I compare.

But now I am roughly the age they were back then....and I still feel insignificant.

It's stupid, I know. Especially in my case. My life is so unique; it cannot be compared to anyone's that I have ever met. My circumstances are different...and therefore so is my life.

I need to realize this.

I thought that I wanted to be 'set' by the time I was 30; to know what I wanted to 'do' with my life. But maybe I don't. That's not me. I am extremely versatile, I love adventure and staying one place too long freaks me out. A typical 9-5 job wouldn't kill me, but it likely wouldn't bring out the best in me, either. I need something...different.

So, with yet another decade nearly behind me, perhaps it would behoove me to take some serious time to reassess what I really want out of life.

Maybe it is time for that trip on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, to Antarctica, or to Australia and New Zealand.

Maybe I should set off to Vegas on Saturday and let the wind catch my hair along the 18 hour journey.

Perhaps I should, rather than get too worried about what others think, just go with the flow and let life take me where it so desires. Honestly, when I've let fate (or whatever you like to call it) take over, things seem to work out the best. I have the most fun and enjoy my time. It's when I started planning too much that things...lose their excitment.

Have fun and enjoy my time...

In the end, that's all that matters.

Rejection, Reading Eyes and Remaining Calm

Luckily as I age and grow calmer, so do my nerves. Don't get me wrong, there are still certain things that still get me riled up--my school work being one of them. I am a perfectionist when it comes to my studies; projects are begun on the day they are assigned, finished with weeks to spare and edited over and over again. I'm a freak about it, but that is okay. It's who I am. Money, too. I have always been a saver and probably always will be. Unless an extremely large sum of cash comes my way, which is highly unlikely, I will always be, well, stingy.

In most other aspects of life, I have become pretty laid-back. I have learned through life's experiences that planning ahead is sometimes a complete waste, that worrying about the future is oftentimes unwarranted and being too stubborn about the small stuff just plain ridiculous.

As a kid I was completely different. I grew up in a nervous household, and was therefore quite nervous myself. My three immediate family members (parents and sister) are the type who can't relax. They tend to freak out and think the worst. I have always been a black sheep in many ways, and it seems even more so lately.

Being relaxed about life's happenings isn't such a bad thing. When I received the thanks for your application but...letter in the mail yesterday in regards to my Presidential Management Fellowship application I didn't really care. Honestly, I think I would have been more surprised had I been chosen as one of the coveted few. So I didn't make the cut. At least I tried. Next...

My entire family is completely distressed in regards to the recent diagnosis of my father. Completely understandable. Being told that you have a fatal, incurable disease is not something any of us want to hear. But he saw one doctor and only had one--of at least a half dozen--tests to prove that he truly has Lou Gehrig's. The little bit of research that I have done in the last few days has consistently expressed that the disease is incredibly hard to diagnose due to its tendency to mimic several other diseases (that are manageable, if not curable). A second opinion is highly recommended in a case as such. I am remaining calm and positive....and attempting to rub off on my family. If a plethora of tests and doctors visits still render his condition as such, then the freak-fest will begin. But taking the word of one medical professional is risky...trust me, I know.

I am a huge skeptic of "modern" medicine. Okay, fine, I am a skeptic of many things. But with the number of doctors I have been to over the last dozen years, only two ever made me feel better. The two "witch doctors" as I call them. One guy fed me strange herbs and weird drinks while supplementing them with massages using an electric sander. The other guy simply touched me and made weird motions with his hands.

In both instances, I felt better than I had with any conventional prescription drug.

So was it all in my head? It's possible. The mind is a very powerful organ and, in my opinion, has a substantial impact on our health and well-being. But I don't think this was the case. I believe in the power of 'alternative' healing. I am one of those who believes there is a cure for every disease...somewhere out there...maybe in the deep reaches of the jungle or the bottom of the ocean...but everything can be cured with natural substances.

So yesterday my father and I went to an eye reading guy. Yeah--he takes a picture of both eyes and reads them. Very weird, but so interesting. According to him, everything that happens to the body--less surgery that is performed while under anesthesia--is recorded in the eyes.

Like I said, if there ever was a skeptic, here I am. But this man was very sincere and extremely knowledgeable. He treats several people I know and travels throughout the state helping others.

So, we have started my father on an abundance of several minerals. It can't hurt. And if it is all just a mind game, then so be it. If his mind can trick his body into thinking he is devoid of any neurological diseases, bring it on. Life throws strange things our way constantly. Who knows, perhaps a little positive reinforcement and the idea that a combination of minerals and various supplements will reverse whatever may be plaguing my father's body.

Only time will tell. But in the meantime, I will remain calm and collected. I am not one who necessarily believes that we control our own destinies. There are a plethora of outside forces affecting us negatively at any given moment. All we can do is hope for the best, keep our heads up, take it as it comes and move on if necessary.

As Abraham Lincoln expressed, it is not the years in your life that matter, but the life in your years.

...Under the Wrath of Doom?

They say that when things go wrong...they go really wrong. In sticking to the fabulously lucky year that 2009 has presented us, today brought more...doom.

I hate to sound depressing. I am a very happy and positive person. But, if I didn't know any better I would think that my family was currently under a dark cloud of misery.

As I sat at City Hall this morning listening to the Manager of Water and Utilities spouting off about how Abilene has ample water to supply to Tenasty, my parents were sitting at a neurologist's office discussing Lou Gehrig's Disease.

What?

Although I expected to learn that my arch-enemy, the death-box called a coal plant, would be able to get water from Abilene, hearing it with my own two ears was absolutely heart wrenching. Although this was simply a 'presentation' and no decisions were made, if under-the-table payoffs continue and Tenasty gets its way, they will eventually get their water officially. Not good. There are still many barriers for them to jump, public hearings to be held and contracts to be drafted. It could certainly all go away; without a Council majority they are out of luck. But with their power, money and corruption it is hard not to think the worst.

We can still fight on other fronts, and will, but water was our biggest hope.

Then there is Mr. Lou Gehrig. A famous baseball player of the 1930s, he died of a neurological disease that has since carried his namesake. Said disease results in a loss of neuro-motor functions and is ultimately fatal.

After several visits to various doctors and a round of tests today, my father's diagnosis is such.

Only 2 in 100,000 people are at risk of developing this disease; 5,000 Americans per year. But as of late, there are no cures.

From here...well, where do you go? A second opinion is suggested; encouraged actually. The symptoms can mimic those of several other diseases. Otherwise, we literally have no control over what happens.

In conclusion, live life. Don't dwell on the small things. Live your dreams; don't put them off. You never know what may hit you from one day to the next.

The Final Hours...

Five hours remain until I have completed my meatless month. It went by amazingly fast...and wasn't so bad.

Until I got a nice big whiff of anything...meaty.

Those chicken nuggets. That baked chicken. The disgustingly greasy burgers at the local fast food joints.

Mmmm....do they smell good.

Then there is the turkey sausage that has been staring at me for two weeks, calling out my name whenever I open the refrigerator.

Whitney!!!! Check out my succulent meatiness!! Bite me baby!

Wow---that baby is gonna taste goooooooooooooooooooooooooood.

I have been asked by several people if I lost weight. Not that I can tell. My super-sized booty is still there.

But I have learned that I can certainly live, and do just fine, without meat in my diet. And I have proven my incredible willpower. If I want to do something, want to accomplish a difficult feat, I will do it. I have what it takes to do anything I so desire.

Okay, not that this little test was a 5,000 mile trek through the Andes or anything, but in our deep-fried, fast food, candy obsessed country (especially here in the South) failing to succumb to life's little edible pleasures it pretty damn good.

The funny thing is that chicken is on the menu for dinner tomorrow night. One of those nice, baked chickens that I have been smelling once weekly for the past month....and I'm really not that excited about stepping back into the carnivorous world (other than that damn sausage).

Have I been converted?

Doubtful. But I'll keep you posted.

A Time for Anger

I find humanity's interpretation of time to be rather interesting. Let's face it, it is a strange 'entity'. No one really ever knows what time it is; no one really knows when time began. So why do we place so much emphasis on it?

Americans, especially, are always in a rush, trying to beat the clock. There is never enough time in the day, time is money and time is of the essence. Hmmm.

My favorite, though, has always been New Year's Eve. We believe that a new year marks a new beginning. That not only will all of our woes suddenly disappear, but happiness and good luck will become us.

Goofy as it all is, I'm counting on 2009's conclusion--and 2010's arrival--to do just that.

I can't remember a year, in at least the last decade, that has been so...stricken by bad luck. From its onset to the current moment, it seems as though anything that can go wrong will, that any realizations I have are negative and that nothing wants to...cooperate.

It's been a year of deep thinking and realization. Lately I've just been angry.

I'm angry at people, at society, at the system. I'm mad that such things as 'group projects' exist in my classes. I'm tired of how crooked our political system is...not only nationally, but locally. That people won't fight for their rights annoys me. And that I allowed the Department of the Interior to use me not once, but THREE times, makes me grow increasingly angry at my own stupidity.

I don't even know where to begin....but, somewhat foolishly, I am hoping that the New Year and its cultural significance will come to the rescue. That I can start anew and wipe away the annoyances that have so plagued me this calendar year.

*There were all of those 'close calls', like my sister just barely escaping what would have been a horrific car accident and my mother and I barely missing (by about 15 minutes) an armed robbery at our local bank.

*The wrath of Tenasty and the seemingly endless pleas to the community; the trips to Austin; door-to-door petition signings; public speeches; press conferences. And don't forget the stress and sadness that accompanies. I don't know if there could be much worse news than that a coal plant is moving in next door...

A recent talk with my neighbor confirmed that her MS is no longer in remission, likely from the stress associated with our 'fight' to keep our neighborhood peaceful. Put simply, it is making a lot of people very sick.

*How about the job that I was sure to get? The one at a Visitor Center where I have [since] dedicated three summers...for free. I don't mind volunteering, and I am hoping that the experience will further benefit me in the future. But claiming that I didn't fill out my application the right way as an excuse to why I wasn't hired is...a bunch of bull. Someone, somewhere doesn't want me to work there. I don't know why and likely never will. But it is beyond obvious to me. To hear that other individuals volunteering at these localities and with these agencies for a shorter time period than I are receiving job offers only angers me more. Obviously, I can't blame them [the volunteers]. But I can't ever remember being used so blatantly and being hurt so deeply. Considering the stellar references and high praise that I have received from my managers, I can only assume that
A. My strong work ethic intimidates someone...and that someone won't allow for me to get a job
B. I am female, and women don't belong in Alaska (?)
C. Because I have a horrible back, I am being discriminated against. It has happened many times before, trust me...and it will likely happen again.

Sorry if I sound nuts, but countless hours thinking about it haven't rendered much more in terms of explanation. Plus, I warned you that I am angry. This issue...man, it makes me mad and just...makes me sad.

*We lost three family members this year. Two I met so long ago that I don't remember them. One was my last living grandparent.

*Further mess came with the roommate this past summer who, honestly, caused for unnecessary health issues. I was literally sick for weeks, and eating little, because her horrible attitude and dislike for me was so troubling. As much as I try not to let others influence me, she turned my summer into one of the worst that I can remember.

*And don't get me started on the group project that is due in a month. You know, the one that I have been bugging my 'team-mates' to start for over 5 weeks. Our leader has gone MIA, seriously. He disappeared into thin air several weeks back. If I ever teach, I will only assign group work out of revenge. If I live through this semester I will be quite pleased. Between the weirdo Harvard and MIT educated land-use managers who expect the unexpected out of us, to this group paper...I might flip.

But anger and annoyance isn't necessarily a bad thing for me. Anger gets me moving; I accomplish lots. And I get my own [harmless] revenge. I'm currently working on several applications for the summer. Yup--they include big oil companies. If the DOI doesn't appreciate my love for the environment and desire to preserve wild-Alaska, then I will put my education to different uses [or at least try]. I'm certainly no dummy. I was once ashamed to flaunt my past achievements, but don't care anymore. I was Valedictorian; I was Magna cum Laude; I'm a few classes away from an M.S.---don't tell me that I don't know how to fill out an application.

And my anger has led to all that we have accomplished as far as Tenasty goes. Well, not mine solely, but it didn't hurt. Never in my life did I think I would walk through town, door-to-door, talking with strangers and begging for their signatures. Never did I think I would make public speeches before hundreds of audience members, plus news media, cameras, lawyers and judges. I never expected to walk the halls of my State Capital Building with a dedicated meaning and purpose. It has all made me so much stronger. I couldn't have done it if I wasn't totally pissed.

It is all who you know and not what you know. That statement is amazingly accurate, and holds true to all aspects of life. If just one of us out here in the sticks had money to burn and just a little bit of influence, there wouldn't be a fight to fight. If I was great friends with just one 'big-wig' at a great company, I would have no trouble getting a job.

So....I am awaiting the arrival of the New Year. I am counting on time to heal my woes; to wipe away this year's damage. I don't mean to sound morbid and depressing, because I'm not. In all honesty, I look back at the year's events thus far and sometimes just smile. It is all a lesson, I am sure, but one that has exhausted my family and myself. Perhaps when the clock strikes midnight on December 31st I will feel the weight lift and laugh, knowing that time heals all wounds....

Fake Chicken and Front Pages

Sigh.

Ever stop and ask yourself what on earth you are doing?

I am eating fake chicken nuggets (which aren't bad...weird, but not bad) and have my face plastered all over the news and newspapers. Have I lost my mind?

Or am I just too stubborn to give in?

Or do I just not give a damn anymore?

I don't care if I end up on death's door; I'll complete my month-long anti-meat 'experiment'. I've come this far, right?

And it will take a lot to shut me up in regards to Tenasty and their evil ways. I'll be honest, I watch my back now. I expect threats.

But I have come to realize that, not only am I a severely determined individual, I just don't care very much anymore. Care about what others think, that is.

I am not sure that I ever really did care. I was just forced to care. We all are. Society has a way of making us feel bad for being...different. And determining who is different is a science that I have yet to master. I don't think anyone has that one down...

I was always fairly uncool growing up. I wore what I wanted, never giving in to the 'trendy' stuff. I wore my hair however I pleased, and hung out with whomever would befriend me.

I can't say that much has changed.

But there comes a day when we realize that we aren't 'cool'. That we are of the [supposed] few who dare to do things differently and live how we want rather then how 'they' tell us to. When we realize that we are what 'they' classify as 'different'.

It didn't always bother me. In high school I could not have cared less that I was weird. In fact, people knew me because of it. I got picked on for not being of the perfect body shape and size. I got laughed at because I got straight-A's. Usually I could just shrug it off, however. Usually.

It was sometime after all the surgery that I became extremely self-conscious.

A combination of huge scars running down my back and onto my hips and an overall feeling of dread and defeat plagued me. This was only exacerbated when I was 22 and realized that I needed to retire in order to maintain some semblance of health.

Rough times.

But as I get older, and deal with all of the shit people throw at me, I am getting more and more back to the point where I just don't care.

At the risk of sounding snobby, there is a certain image that I do want to portray, don't get me wrong. I want to be seen as one of intelligence and class, hard-work and determination. I don't want to be seen as some hillbilly bum who does nothing all day; some stupid, bimbo little girl. This is the way the average person treats me and it pisses me off.

I have to remain true to who I am. Last year I started changing my attitude (slightly) and clothing upon hanging around multi-multi-millionaires. I realized quickly that it wasn't me. I am who I am, ratty clothing and all. I am the type of person who could be a billionaire and would fool everyone...I would still dress the same, act the same and live the same.

So what was my point in all of this rambling?

To some I am seen as a hero. They thank me for being brave enough to stand up against these corporate giants. They thank me for bringing out the truth and calling them on their lies.

Others see me as the devil, most likely. I can almost guarantee that I am high on the 'hit list' for some of the City and Tenasty representatives right now. Proponents of the plant likely see my image all over the news and cringe.

But why should I back down? Why should I let them win? And, most importantly, why should I care what they think of me?

We live in a free country (sort of). It is my right to voice my opinion; My right to eat weird wannabe chicken. These people who get so amazingly angry at the fact that I dare speak up make me laugh. If we all thought alike, what would be the point? A good argument is healthy. It is healthy for those of us directly engaged and those who choose to watch on the sidelines. It makes people THINK. Something that I oftentimes wonder if the average American does much of anymore...

So be who you are. Eat fake chicken and have your face plastered all over every form of media in the area. Be on the 'most wanted list' of every greedy creep on the opposing side. If you are doing something that is meaningful and fulfilling TO YOU, who cares what the 'others' think...?

Be different. It is those who dare challenge the 'norms' of society who truly live.

Damn Chicken Nuggets

I am exactly two weeks into my "no-meat" campaign.

I have been dreaming about chicken nuggets.

Don't ask me why--I rarely ever eat them. Must be the fact that I can't have them.

Oh, to savor that juicy, greasy excellence would be a dream come true, literally.

It's all I think about.

But for whatever reason, I have yet to break into the box of imitation chicken nuggets I bought last week. Yeah, they are vegetarian chicken nuggets. Something about it just doesn't seem 'right.'

Plus, my sister has to consistently ask about my "fake chicken" and how it tastes.

Fake chicken.


Two weeks to go.


Oh dear.

Taking the Stand

"Please state your name."

"Whitney Root. R-O-O-T."

"And your address."

"XXX CR XXX, Trent"

"How far do you live from the proposed plant?"

"Approximately a mile and a half."

"And do you have any concerns?"

So began my testimony this morning in a preliminary 'trial' for a contested case hearing regarding an air permit for the proposed coal plant that has disrupted the lives of so many in our tiny area. Never, EVER, did I think I would find myself in a situation as such, fighting a $6 BILLION company, the city "representatives" (and I use that term amazingly loosely), the entirety of the coal movement....and even climate change legislation.

Sounds crazy, I know. Trust me, there are moments when I wonder if I am living in some severely warped dream, one that will seemingly never end. The proponents are greedy, willing to threaten people to get their way. And they have, on several occasions. Even an inkling of a brain cell in a semi-intelligent being tells one that the city 'representatives' have all been paid off or offered good jobs, great stock options...whatever. They have some sort of incentive, besides "clean coal", to want a filthy, ugly, water-consuming monster associated with their names.

It all boils down to one word:

GREED

And then there is 'us'. 'Us' being all who live directly in the line of fire. 'Us' who live outside the city so as to allow ourselves the opportunity to breathe semi-clean air, live quiet lifestyles, and basically all but hide out from the perils of mankind. 'Us' who are perceived as poor, stupid and worthless.

Unfortunately for Tenasty, as we refer to them, we are not stupid. Many of us are not poor (myself not included!). And I argue with anyone who considers us worthless. In fact, through this fight, I have met some amazingly intelligent, well-rounded individuals. They are thinkers; independent thinkers at that. They read. They educate themselves. They prepare. And most importantly, they don't back down.

We are fighting against the odds. We don't have the finances, the big-time lawyers and the backing of the coal industry. We can't pay people off, influence the ways of the media or get people fired for having an opinion.

But even through the thick fog or, perhaps more fitting, the thick soot, there is much hope for us. We do have much going in our favor and we have accomplished A LOT.

Tenasty came into this project with the assumption that us poor-folk would be easy to deal with. I strongly believe that the city 'representatives' assured them that the entirety of the area was pro-Tenasty. Then we showed up. Not only did we catch them completely off guard, but we didn't go away. We expanded. We spoke up. We showed up to meetings, wrote letters to the editor, went to Austin. The original plan, on their part, was to begin construction on this plant by 2009. We have successfully pushed that date back to late 2010 at the earliest.

What does this mean? Well, we are costing them lots of money. Okay, a couple hundred mill' to a company of this stature is nothing more than change in their pockets. But investors are surely getting antsy and questioning the viability of the project. They are paying lawyers, and likely paying them damn well. They are spending money on propaganda, advertising and buying more people out.

They despise us.

Chances are likely that Tenasty will get their air permit come next summer. This is the most vital step in their long process. It is at this point when they can begin building. But not only can a lot happen in a few months' time, but we presented a great group of individuals and organizations before the judge today, and I feel we have a great case going for us.

My mom represented the Sierra Club. I stood for Environmental Defense Fund. Our non-profit, Multi-County Coalition, was there, as was Public Citizen.

At times I get very down. It is hard not to when faced with an issue like this....and especially when it is staring you in the face at all times. But then I stop and recognize all of the people who are out there working for us, 24/7. They are giving their precious time for us. Many get paid very little, or nothing at all. They have time for little else other than fighting against coal.

I mentioned earlier that we are fighting against climate change legislation. Should the cap-and-trade legislation get passed, and carbon dioxide be priced higher than the current recommendation of $28, this plant will likely succeed. Without carbon priced at at least $40 per ton it will fail.

I currently hate cap-and-trade.

"My main concern revolves around the fact that I have severe scoliosis and kyphosis. I have had this for about 12 years. It will not get better; it will not go away. I am stuck with it for life. Due to the many twists in my spine and the muscles in my back and my ribs that are so tight, I don't breathe as easily as a "normal" person does. It can be hard to breathe and can be very painful. Considering how close I will be to this plant, I am very concerned with the toxic emissions that will be released--mercury, nitrous oxides, sulfur dioxide. I am concerned about the particulate matter--the soot, the ash. Not only do I worry about my overall well-being, but how these pollutants will further affect the problems I already have--my bones, my nerves, my muscles, my breathing. These are poisons that will be released into the air. That is not okay with me. This is my home; where I live, eat, breathe, sleep, walk. It is very important to me, and has been expressed by many doctors for many years, that I remain active. I walk up and down Stink Creek Road regularly. But if a coal plant is going to be staring down at me, I will have to ask myself if taking walks will further benefit me or hurt me."

True to my luck, I ended up on all three news stations giving my speech. But even if I inspire one other person to speak up for what s/he believes it is worth the effort.

And who knows, we may win this thing after all. It isn't over. The fight is far from finished. We won't back down.

Let's Get Physical

So, I am back in Physical Therapy...again. Actually I have been for several weeks now.

This has been an ongoing 'chore' since I was seventeen. In and out of who-knows-how-many therapists' offices at this point.

I guess I shouldn't call it a 'chore'. I asked for it, and have for the past three years. While I am not convinced that it does me much good, it gets me moving, allows for some much-needed muscle masssage and helps a little with the stiffness that almost cripples me some days.

The sad part is that, once I actually do start feeling some progress....I get cut off. They tell me I am 'better' and that there isn't much more they can do.

"Do your exercises at home", is a line that I have heard over and over. Let's be honest. Even the most die-hard, determined individual is going to slack-off when it comes to participating in boring, painful and hard-to-accomplish exercises on their own.

I never keep up with them.

My therapist commented on my muscles just last week, surprised at how stiff they actually are.

"I can't hardly tell if this is muscle or bone", he remarked.

Which gets me to the main point for writing this entry.

Our nation is currently at a dire moment in its history---in my opinion. There are millions of people living daily without medical insurance, with lots of pain, and going broke because of it. It's an embarrassment, as far as I am concerned. Considering that we claim to be such a powerful and [somewhat] progressive nation, why are we allowing people to DIE because they don't have money to LIVE?

No one should have to live in pain, be sick or DIE because they don't have medical insurance. I think the number was somewhere around 122 people per day whose lives cease to exist because of someone else's greed.

Is this what we have come to? We are nothing more than a nation of kings and serfs. We are going backwards rather than forward.

So everytime I rant about the lack of help and/or relief that physical therapy really provides for me, I must stop myself. At least I am getting it. At least I am being given the chance to feel better, to get those massages, to lay on that amazingly warm heating pad. When I am released this time around, I WILL stick to my stretches and continue to work on my horrific posture.

I owe it to those who are not so fortunate.