I saw five planes in the sky today, all flying in from the same direction. Due to where I live, that means that they all flew directly in from Mexico. I thought it weird for a bit, until I remembered who our president was. All of this 'deportation' this, 'immigrants' that, all bullshit. It's scary, but for some reason I feel stupid for being scared because I know *I'm* fine, as if I'm not allowed to be scared for those in my life. One of my best friends isn't even a legal citizen after attending school and living here for about to be three entire school years. There's so many immigrants and immigrants' kids here, one kid in my first period who *lives in my neighborhood* has shown us his green card from when he was five. The worst part about all this shit is border patrol. Apparently, they have the power to conduct warrant-less stops and searches of peoples, private vehicles, and even public transport within 100 miles of a border, they just weren't actually partaking in it it until Trump retook office. I didn't know this, but apparently that's the reason why they have a border patrol checkpoint both on the way to San Diego and to Arizona. Thankfully, I think the one on the way to SD has closed down (?), at least for the time being. Ever since he came back into office, there have been multiple reports all over the county where I live that people have randomly been stopped while driving by border patrol, especially in the town 30 miles north of the border for some odd reason. I don't know why, if they are going to be conducting these random searches, they aren't doing them in the *three* towns closest to the border, and instead in one of the farthest towns here. Before you think, 'oh, because any illegal immigrants can escape by going north,' that's not the case. I live in a valley, the only real escape out of here is through the mountains to San Diego, and since the checkpoint there is shut down for the time being, I'd assume it to be quite fucking easy to get out through there, so I don't know why they don't go over there and get out of my fucking county and stop conducting what *should be* unlawful stops and searches. If it's illegal for a cop to pull you over without a warrant, reasonable suspicion, or having witnessed a traffic violation, then it should be the fucking same for the goddamn border patrol. If they don't see a driver at the border checkpoint sweating his balls off, constantly glancing back at his trunk, acting nervous, and speeding off as fast as hees leetel troqueando can go when he's cleared, then there's no reason for BP to trying to deport *MY* people who may or may not be here legally, whether they have identification on them constantly or not, I think shouldn't fucking matter and nobody here should constantly be in fear that they're going to get pulled over and called an immigrant, then dropped in an ICE detention center and sent to a country they may have never even fucking lived in before. I'll be honest, I have it better than most others here, at least in relation to this topic. My skin isn't *dark* dark (this isn't racist, if you saw a northern and southern Mexican and you were one of us, you would be able to tell the fuckin difference), I barely speak coherent Spanish, my mom is white passing (only 50% Mexican), I have no accent (anymore, now it only comes out when I'm angry), I know my rights and such etc whatever. If I got pulled over, I'd likely be fine. Now, take my friend Maria for example, she was born and raised in Mexico, moved here in seventh grade and, luckily for her, she knew English practically perfectly by the time she was in eighth grade. Now, if she were in this situation, someone like Trump would 100% have her and her entire family deported, *especially* her mother who knows close to no English, and only partially understands it. My friend has a noticeable accent, dark skin, Mexican facial features, and worst of all, is still only on a green card and is without citizenship. They have a *life* here. Why take that from her, her little sister, older brother, and parents? Yes, America is having housing problems, but that's only *partially* due to im/migration. This truly all boils down to a *population* crisis. The earth is overpopulated. The world population in the 1800s was one billion, and we *APPARENTLY* reached eight billion in 2023, although I thought it was 7.9 billion just middle-late last year (2024). No matter, I am rambling on towards another topic, (and said topic would be the indulgence and pleasure-driven over-breeding in our consciousless people and necessary annihilation of human life, but that is unthinkable in the modern era and immoral to even think of, and a crime against the word of God, even if you do not believe in Him. I myself am not religious and even I sometimes think that to kill all is to go too far, even if I desire such. We are too many and we are killing everything, including ourselves, yet none care besides those whose *job* it is to.) and that topic is not relative to now.
To continue on talking about subjects which drain me yet I cannot resist talking about, pollution. I was walking my dog this evening, sundown to be exact, and saw so much litter in one specific area. Lined against the fence of this home, likely due to the recent storms that seemed to slip in past our valley's tall mountain peaks, which brought unpleasant winds for a week and extremely uncommon rain for two days straight, it all stuck out like a sore thumb. These multiple Jack in the Box extra large cups, McDonald's bags, plastic bags and trash, generalized waste and litter, so ugly. Why must you all do this to yourselves? You've achieved the unheard opposite of 'beautifying' your home. My school is already normally a bit dirty, dumb fucking highschoolers refuse to pick up after themselves, but after the wind, the piles of waste overflowing out from our all-too-few shallow trashcans at lunch blew all out across our school. I wouldn't doubt if it was picked up and flown out high enough to pass our fences and gates into the streets, parks, and nearby homes and apartment complexes. It's worst in the eastern-most part of the school, in the outdoor hallway to the classrooms on the backside of the science building in front of the English department and a couple elective trailers. It's strewn about *everywhere*, with the bushes holding them close, trying to keep them from furthering their disgusting voyage farther, holding on for dear life, until some out-of-nowhere strong gust blows the styrofoam tray out past its dead leaves and dry, brittle branches. Disgusts me. I keep losing track of my thoughts and start to ramble on another rant about my hatred for us and the actions we make. I was about to write about my hatred for humans, but I do not want to go down that path right now. I will lose track of the two other topics I wish to talk about right now.
Homelessness, something that you're either blessed to have never experienced or unfortunate enough to have experienced before. To be truly unfortunate is to still be homeless this very second, as I am writing this, as you are reading this, as millions of people continue to shiver and freeze in cold winter nights, and sweat and suffer in sweltering horrible summer days. I, myself, have experienced homelessness before, for a total of three-ish years, but my experience is not what I wish to write about right now. I wish to talk about the others. Everybody else out there still currently homeless, who've been homeless, who may soon be homeless, those who're lucky to maybe find a place to stay the night. A generous and trusting neighbor, a homeless shelter, a hidden away nook, cranny, creek, small forest clearing, somewhere safer where you have a lesser chance to be robbed of your few worldly possessions while in your most vulnerable state. Those who have lived homeless their entire lives, kicked out at a young age, those who have lost everything, whether due to their own faults or not, those who have little to nothing to their name and are barely surviving, and can rarely afford a motel room to stay at for a night or two, a luxury to shower and sleep comfortably that night. Those who have *died* homeless, unnamed, unidentified, kicked and thrown to a grave, some man walking past, kicking the limp body and calling 911, 'There's some homeless guy slumped over on the floor in the middle of the sidewalk, he's not moving and I don't think he's breathing, I think. I don't know, I don't want to touch him.' Those who might've been lucky enough to die with identification on their person, the call your living family, if you had any, whether they cared to come or not, just to simply, 'Yeah, that's my estranged brother. He'd been missing for five or six years. Last time I saw him, he looked real skinny, I think he was on drugs, then he disappeared.' Today, since my grandparents have a fucking *Tesla* and are Elon glazers, they were charging their car at the chargers they always use when we visit Arizona (the city we go to is less than an hour drive from where we live, so going to Arizona for a day trip or something is very common around here). Nearby are two hotels, a train model, and the Colorado river. There was a homeless man outside the nearer hotel, digging through the trash and eating the scraps he could scavenge. I was staring at him, not judging, but wishing I could do something. I have nothing on me, what can I do? My grandparents are the kind of people where I, a teenage "girl," shouldn't exit the car to talk to a homeless man, what if he's dangerous!!?1/1/!?1/ My tata, a great man, but just follows whatever my nana, a horrible woman, says to shut her up, calls him over and gives him a measly $5, 'for a soda.' It's money yes, but a soda? He needs to eat. He was eating out of a *trash can.* Mind you, we had just came back from eating out at a steakhouse. My tata ate only half of his ribeye or something, literally half of a bigass steak still on the bone, and two or three bread rolls, sitting in my nana's lap. Give that to him???????!!!!!????????!?!?!???! Hello???????????? Nope, $5 for a soda is good enough. That really angered me. My tata still wanted to go get an ice cream after that, and I ended up having to get one too because he didn't want to be the only one eating one since nobody else wanted one. They stated multiple times in the car and at the restaurant that they were planning to give the steak and bone to our two tiny ass dogs, a Chihuahua and a small Weiner dog-like. Yes, because they need it so much more than this hungry man who is actively eating rubbish out of a garbage can in your face. To talk more about this subject is to anger me further than I already was in this moment, after so much time has passed, so I must drop it now. I wish I had just grabbed it from her, gotten out of the car, and given it to him. What are they going to do, punish me? They have no say or control in my life, they're my absent biological father's parents. I'm dropping this, I can't type on this any longer.
Now, my last subject, the least depressing in a earthwide sense. My local fair is about to leave. I believe today was the last day, this was the third week it's been here and it's a Saturday so it has to be. They extended it this year too, from two full weeks to three weeks besides Mondays and Tuesdays. Yet I still didn't have time to go. Not that I care, I didn't want to much. The only thing I really wanted to go on was the ferris wheel, in all honesty. Lately, I've been thinking about what I really want, and one of those wants on my long list of desires was to ride the ferris wheel with someone I love and have that stereotypical cheesy romance movie kiss at the peak of the ride during sunset or early evening. Not that I can, I don't have a boyfriend and I desire nobody right now and probably not for a long time. Even if I do find someone soon, the fair only comes for three weeks every year. The only person I can really see myself doing that with and is still in my heart is my ex-boyfriend. We've been broken up on closing in on two months now, yet I still miss him. Not that, if we were still dating, we could have that corny top-of-the-ferris-wheel kiss, since he lives in another state and we were long distance. Due to our ages, he wouldn't have been able to come with me for minimum another year since he's turning/turned 17 sometime this March. Before we broke up, I found out his birthday was in March, but never the date. I felt really bad, since I announced my birthday to him and our group of friends in December, but never found out the day of his, and never even got to celebrate it with him. I've felt an unusual, tremendous amount of guilt towards that fact, honestly. If he ever ends up seeing this somehow, I hope you had a good 17th birthday Darpy, and have many more to come. If you'd permit me your real name just this once,
Happy Birthday, Loder. Good luck. I know you believe in it.
~20:30-22:48 03/15/25 Saturday