War? What is it good for? Lots and lots of money.

I can't say what the reluctance has been on this posting issue, but I've definately lost some steam. I guess I'm just down about the failed speed dating attempt. I'm going to write it up in my consciousness as a lark, a funny joke I played on myself. And from this point hence, we shall never speak of it. Never.

Wednesday was an odd but active one. After starting the morning out with a bagel, I got notification from gomobo.com that they were giving out money. So with $2 more dollars in the gomobo.com coffers I cashed it all in for a delicious campo sandwich.

Later in the day my friend Stella invited me to a reading in which a couple of authors would be discussing issues relevant to the current war in Iraq. One author had written a book about the private army known as Blackwater, and one had written as an "unembedded" journalist reporting from outside the Green Zone. It was odd to hear the term "unembedded." I always thought that meant you were "embedded" in the war zone, but apparently it doesn't, I guess a better definition is that embedded journalist go in with the troops when people let them, and in this scenario it means running around the highly secured Green Zone.

While Blackwater's mercenary army is disturbing enough, because it operates outside of the Geneva convention and answers to no one, it was the author Dahr Jamail's presentation that disturbed me the most. It is understandable that enlistment in the US Forces is down. People are less likely to join up when they may go to a war that many feel is based on at what could, at best, be called "bad information." But the story that this journalist brought back was not a fight for the hearts and minds of Iraqi people, but of a crazed occupation where Marine snipers shot women and children traveling to hospitals. It was a side of the war that I was not thinking about. I could see the errant bomb hurting people, I trusted that the armed services did their due diligence as much as they could to avoid "collateral damage." But as Mr. Jamail described his trip to a clinic where people were bringing in women and children who were being shot by Marine snipers I found myself wondering if the armed forces were representing my country as I feel they should be. Clearly, my views on the war have changed, and as much as I would like to democratize the world and stabilize the Middle East, I'm done with this war. I can't have the blood of innocents on my hands for something that clearly won't work.

After this sobering gathering Stella and her friend took me to a hare krishna dinner. I had looked into the hare krishnas as a source of free vegetarian food, but I assumed that you had to attend a long service about the saving grace of a Hindu warrior god. That wasn't the case here as the three of us helped ourselves to some delicious free food. I then got a call from my friend Tomiwa to drink bourbon and play Scrabble, which I gladly did. I woke up hungover the next day and still distracted by the war.

The rest of the week was fairly dull. Thursday night was work at the tutoring center and "High Noon" after work.

On Friday I discovered that I could get some cheap tamales near work at the Mexican consulate which is just down the street. I bought 4 for $5. I ended the day by stocking up on groceries.


Starting Balance: -$29

In: $40

Wednesday:
Bagel with Cream Cheese: $3.25
Campo Sandwich: $2.25

Thursday:
Halal: $4

Friday:
Tamales: $5
Vegetables: $4.50
Groceries: $10
Beer: $3

Saturday: $0

Balance: -$21