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2002-12-30 - 11:42 p.m.

Doctor's Office Hijinks

At work we have a health insurance system that features Internet access to information. As a little punk-rock statement, I chose "Capitalismsucks" as my ID name. Today it paid off.

I took to the doctor's office my sign-up sheets and some other form that included general information about coverage. Of course, these papers were totally useless to the very nice receptionist assigned to enter insurance information into the doctor's system � she needed a health card or something. Due to the wonders of technology, much of this information is available over the Internet. But you need a person's user name and code to enter their on-line file. For some reason, I had written several things on the insurance papers but couldn't remember which one was my ID.

Could it be the "Capitalismsucks?" I wondered. "That seems bolder than something I'd normally do, being a reformed Catholic and all." But sure enough, after several unsuccessful tries it turned out that "Capitalismsucks" really was my ID, which caused a pleasant disturbance in the doctor's office. Many of the workers laughed and thought it was funny, which made me feel better because in some places, like up the highway in Georgetown, they probably would have jailed me for thought crime or treason. In Georgetown and surrounding Williamson County they jail people for just about anything except breathing too much (and maybe that's even a crime, if you're a black person). But these women got it � all they really had to do was think about all the patients they probably see who haven't health insurance or adequate coverage � and didn't give me any weird looks or anything.

It's good to know that in a time when your family and many of your fellow countryzens are afraid of living, dying, and everything in between, your government is propagating the myth of the Muslim Menace, and critical thinking skills are elusive as a Yeti, you can go to your doctor's office and make the receptionist type in "Capitalismsucks" and she doesn't say anything derogatory but just types in the phrase like it's totally cool. Because it should be.

Admittedly, I was a little worried about getting flack for my ID name choice. But why? It's not like I'm ashamed of my views on capitalism � that it's probably the best system in the end, but in its current state in the U.S. is failing most people by not providing for their basic needs while creating a plutocracy. The War on Everyone has certainly put a damper on political discourse, but my ID rightfully indicates no violent "smash the state-ism" � simply the mere "act" of hating a philosophy of economics. In short, I really needn't have worried about being confused with an Osama follower or anything. yet I did, a little, because people sometimes jump to conclusions, and because some people think that opposing capitalism is tantamount to supporting the jihad ("you're either with us or against us").

Though inside I'm a very anti-authoritarian person, I haven't lived up to my potential as a thoughtful hell-raiser because as time goes by, opposition to free expression seems to grow. But maybe that's my perception because I've always been susceptible to harboring a considerable amount of tentativeness and lack of confidence. I was raised in an environment based on fear, in a town where people were old and constantly worried about cateracts and polyps, and where the young people joined cliques so they wouldn't have to think independently. Many of my teachers supported memorization, which would probably win them points from Dubya but did little for my classmates and I in terms of helping us think analytically. So basically I became used to being afraid of everything, including my own ideas, because doom lurked around the corner, and because the exotic things were for other people and not for us. Making sure my ideas conformed was an important goal, even though by eighth grade I was listening to all sorts of interesting punk music and reading about characters like Sid Vicious with a non-judgemental eye. The music and craziness were other people's, so I could vicariously live through my records and magazines while I cried about bullies instead of standing up to them. This is still the case, to some extent.

Not to blame my parents, because they did their best to raise me well, but they also cultivated in me a fear of the unknown (though they are also very courageous, particularly in tough times). They have never travelled abroad and sometimes imply that Western Europe and Sierra Leone are the same place, occasionally nudging me back towards my former fear-driven self by giving me contradictory warnings based totally on hypotheticals: Don't go to Spain because they're blowing up the Russian embassy in some other country. Don't display dancing Jesuses on your web site because "they" will come after you for being a blasphemer. Don't do this, don't do that. These days, it's easier to ignore the initial "oh, maybe they're right" by discerning what's a likely threat and what's not. Sometimes this produces hilarious results: The way they took the news of my upcoming trip to Spain � "people are angry at Americans, they don't like you, it's not a good time to go" � you'd think I had planned to wear my passport on my forehead. It's odd that when every time I ignore their advice, life gets more interesting.

It's all about trusting people, which in this country is not exactly endorsed. In our haste to atomize ourselves, we've fostered an environment in which various forms of psychotic behavior thrive, and now we have good cause to worry about gunmen gone wild, kids without consciences, all sorts of aberrations. Usually I tend to think our indigenous psychos are just acting out of frustration because their emotions are bottled up and they are bored/afraid to be honest and face reality. Meamwhile, many Americans seem to share these insecurity problems in subtler ways, though most don't gun-tote. Often I meet folks who seem all bottled up � smart folks who for some reason seem afraid to laugh at a crass joke. Like if they break their shell their guts will come spilling out onto the floor, and everyone will think they're stupid or common. They are like old people who have lost all their vigor for life, and are ready to enter the retirement home to make mediocre craft baskets.

Travel

I'm supposed to go to Spain tomorrow, to trod the traveler's path once again. Usually I travel with Canadians, Australians, and Brits. They're more fun than Americans and they know where all the capital cities are. Some of the Americans I've met didn't know where Poland or Berlin or Budapest are. When you live in a vacuum, you are always choking on dust.

Last night I took an on-line "fear of flying" eradication course, written up by an airline pilot with the fanciful name Captain Stacey Chance. It's a helpful site, with facts intended to put the old racing mind at ease and many funny cartoons. Capt. Chance is in tune with the average aviophobe's biggest fears: The wings falling off, an engine failing, turbulence. I'm not completely cured of my flying fear, but the site did help as much as it could have. It's been a while since my last flight ��last July, in fact, before the whole Day That No One Will Ever Forget.

Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse. � Lily Tomlin

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