mlwms

Posted 10:38 PM by Michelle
My crew went on a hike today. At least, that was the plan. Last night we invited an outsider to join us and she declined, saying she had plans for her morning. Today I found out that her plans were to sit in her garden and read. God, I thought, what a perfect plan.

We had a great day, however. After breakfast in Calistoga, and a couple of hours climbing the mountains in our cars, we found a trailhead leading into a redwood forest. We followed the trail for as long as we could, and then starting hiking up a trickling waterfall. I was leading, following nothing more than a faint deer path, when Matthew took over and led us up and over the mountain. It was such great fun. We slid down steep rocky slopes, swung from the small trees to keep from completely losing purchase, and satisfactorily scratched up our legs and arms. I love the air of the forest. But it also always makes me sad.

We drove another hour to the coast and ate fried everything in a pub in Mendocino. There was a basketball game on and everyone there was rooting for “anyone but Dook”. The marine layer was thick, and the wind cold, but it made the beer taste even better.

When I’m with my friends, my incessant soul-searching takes a welcome back burner, but the minute I’m alone, which is so rare these days, it envelopes me, turns me around in my chair and faces me head-on. I need to be better about giving myself time. I’m pressuring myself too much to figure out what it is I want to do. All I know is that I live in paradise, that Eden is but a two-hour drive west. It may seem trite or corny, but a walk through 300-year-old trees and a drive down the California coast still reminds me how small I am.

Posted 9:24 AM by Michelle
Dear Mr. Bush,

I have always hated you. Let’s be clear on that. When my trusted friends and family asked me to show a little temperance on my blog and in my conversations, I found myself unable. I was, and am, irrational when it comes to you. When my friends, only playing devil’s advocate, would try to reason around my rage, saying “at least Hussein is out of power” and then “at least we caught him” or even “Michelle, stop using the f-word so much when you talk about Bush”, I could only leave the room. It was the only way to still the seething, pouring hatred from coating the people I love. So let’s have the cards on the table: I have always thought you were stupid, evil, and a horrible, destructive joke. When you were running for presidency the first time, I was laughing at you. I thought that there was NO WAY that ANY smart, thinking, caring, loving person would vote for you. But they did. Almost half of this country voted for you. The laugh was on me.

But let’s start there. Almost half. Not even half. Not even half the country voted for you, and yet, you stole the presidency. And very briefly, let’s go back even further. Let’s talk about your dad, and let’s think about his foreign policy and his legacy that bred further hatred for Americans all over the world. I certainly don’t think the son should bear the sins of the father, but you seem to have brought all of those sins packed neatly in a carry-on bag which, devastatingly, is linked with the bags in the overhead compartments that hit towers in the city I love. But… before I let my ugly, pus-filled, throbbing hatred get the better of me, I should move on.

When you let the snowmobiles in Yellowstone, that was bad. I mean, that was really bad. I lived there in that beautiful National Park for a month last summer and I saw wildlife and hiked trails that you sold out for a couple more votes. But if I had known then what I know now, that you set your eye on Iraq long before 9/11, that you twisted the American public’s minds until some of us actually believed that 9/11 and Hussein were linked, that there might actually have been WMD’s in Iraq, that, and this is what I truly believe, you were GLAD that 9/11 happened. You were. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that you knew it was coming and you let it happen. We hated you, Mr. President. Your country hated you, and then something that we thought was worse than you came along and we needed to be healed and there you were, the benevolent parent, the sympathetic leader. But not for long. Within hours you started claiming, “They hate our freedom”. Oh, no, Mr. Bush. They hate you. And because I live in your country and pay your salary, they hate me too. So not only were you able to unite “your” country because of this terrible tragedy, you were able to have a midnight meeting with your cronies where you could rub your hands together and discuss the opportunities that the attacks would give you. “Mmmm,” you breathed. “Mmmm, let’s go get that towel-head in Iraq!”

And then yesterday, three civilians from North Carolina were massacred. Shot, beaten, burned, hung while children literally danced on their burnt heads. Do I feel any different today? No. I’ve always hated you. I’ve always known what you were capable of. I’ve always known that you were willing to sell your country, sell our environment, sell the very air we breathe so your stupid frat-boy lack of intellect, your absolute obtuseness, your dizzying foolishness, your insecure, ugly inner self would feel justified. I don’t think you are a mean guy. I think you are borderline insane.

You are the one dancing on the heads of my children. You are stomping on the heads of your own grandchildren. You care nothing for them, for me, for anyone other than yourself. And the American public still believes in you. I can do nothing about that. But history will show, Mr. President. The books written as soon as you are out of office, as soon as you are cold in your grave, and for the rest of time, will show what you have done, will expose you for who you are.

I will be writing one of those books. That is a promise.

Most Sincerely,

Michelle Williams