(MENAFN - Khaleej Times) MY HEAD is spinning, my mind is mushy, my wit is without, my muse is amused and yes it's all because I'm on a political overdose.
The weeks of watching wannabe Presidential debates, and the sometimes-churlish comments, jokes, analyses, and what not. It's all quite incredible, at times unbelievable and often times shocking. Lies are told, names are called and oh yes, the media prejudices come through loud and clear.
This is the second time I will vote, the first time was at the last elections, just after I became an American citizen. My candidate won then. It was a great feeling, here was a nation where my squeaky little voice meant something, it's one of the reasons I wanted to belong here.
Well my squeaky voice has become a whisper of despair. Do we really sit by and watch the world's political leaders argue and flail like petulant puppets. Oh then there's the regulator. The guy or gal who tries to keep the two debaters on a schedule and control given the TV time allotted. Well actually I'm glad of that, because the endless tirades and lack of constructive offerings and solutions begin to pall.
It's slightly befuddling actually. I'm thinking what must the world think. Never mind. I shall give it my best shot and like my mother used to say 'it'll all come out in the wash'. I'll be glad to climb out of the laundry machine, cleansed of the blots of blahdedah, and hopeful that there is really a plan for this country that is so rich in luck potential and people. Dignity would be nice, respect would be nice. But that's missing. Badly. When one can call the President a retard I'm thinking this freedom of speech malarkey is madness. Ah well, looking back a few weeks, and shed the mopes, I had the good fortune to go back to California for a week off. Breathed the air of the Pacific Ocean, which like its name is pacifying. Dolphins danced in the waters, toucans swept down and seagulls skimmed the waves with the surfers as fishing boats spread their nets and uncannily the dolphins dodged them.
I was amazed at the diversity that lives and thrives there. Met some really interesting people out of India, the UK, South America, Jamaica, and all over, and they all work in tandem, enjoy foods from everywhere and are more intellectually inclined than most.
On the return airplane trip there were three 18 year olds who had signed on for the armed services and were on their way to what they call boot camp. In lay/commercial lingo I guess it's like getting a job with three months probation. Here's the extraordinary part, if she makes it through boot camp the lovely girl in the seat beside me said she's doing it because after her assignment is over, she can come back home and her college education will be paid for. Her parents can't afford it so she will be able to help them too.
I bow to her and her ilk and thank providence that I was born in a country where you did not have to pay to get a college degree. You then became a professional and helped your aging parents. You were rebuked for disrespect and profanity and dignity was a way of life.
Synchronism lightened my frame of mind, when last night I watched an episode of the BBC show 'Yes Minister' you may remember it, it was on when I lived in the UAE some years ago. There it was - politics and government British style. It was hilariously cryptic, understated and filled with smiling deference to the people in power. It was refreshing.
Pinky Daniels is a freelance writer based in US