I’m a white Caucasian with ancestry of Germans, Scottish, Irish, and probably more. What does that make me?

I’m so tired of seeing/reading/hearing things that whites are racists simply because they’re white. SERIOUSLY? Wake up! You are racist if you mistreat and degrade others of a specific genre/social class/skin color/etc. NOT by wanting to protect America and get smarter about immigrants entering the country, especially with all the global destruction/terrorism/murders nowadays.

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It’s time we adopted the philosophy that our skin colors are woven together.  We’re all a part of each other.  Our differences make us unique and beautiful.

White privilege? Really? I’ve never been privileged in my entire life. I think, by that term, some people are referencing racial/ethnical profiling. I’m sure that happens – we hear about it on the TV (but, the media likes to embellish and dramatize things, making the cause bigger than it is (my opinion in many cases), and no, it’s not happened to me. I don’t pretend to understand how profiling feels. What I do know is that, I don’t roam around – I stay home and do my thing. “Street lights on? Be at home!” That’s how I was raised and how I basically live now.

We have so many angry people in today’s society, people who believe someone owes them something. Well, crap – my father & mother divorced when I was a teen, and our lives as we knew them went straight down the toilet….we lived hand to mouth. Someone owes me, for crying out loud. I lost both parents because my mom had to support us. She was a stay at home Mom on a Marine’s salary. We did OK then…till the divorce. She was concerned ONLY with retaining custody of her children that she (and her dumb-ass attorney) never went for half of my father’s pension…so, guess who ended up taking care of Mom in her late years? Yep….me/my husband. He’s now gone. As a gorgeous 16-year-old, I was date-raped…TWICE.  So, who’s gonna pay me? Someone owes me – big time, don’t ya think? Maybe I should go to a swanky neighborhood at dusk or under the cover of darkness and break into someone’s house and destroy their things or beat someone up or kill someone. REALLY?

Life’s hard. Get used to it. For some, they have a golden spoon up their butts and seem to get everything handed to them. That’s not God’s plan for me. I know that. I’m fairly happy with the things I do have. Do I want more? Of course, but I don’t think anyone OWES me. And I sure as heck don’t sit around focusing on things I don’t have…I CHOOSE to focus on what I DO have. Makes me smile. Warm house in winter, fairly cool one in summer, dry not wet, food to eat…you know, the basics. Internet and cable TV – no premium channels, but that’s OK – who needs ’em? It’s all good. I could be homeless with one leg and a dying dog. Be grateful for the GOOD you do have!

Privilege? Work for the things you want. You do NOT need the latest and greatest new gadget. If you want to remain at home with your children then sacrifice some luxuries – we did, for YEARS. Used cars, one TV, nothing fancy…all because we wanted our son to have me at home during his formative years. And when he became a teen – he actually needed me there MORE…peer pressure and all. You sacrifice to make it work. Depends on the priority you place on life and “things”.

Everything in life has a price, a cost. What’s it worth to you? Don’t you think it’s worth about the same to everyone else? Quit “keeping up with the Jones’/Kardashians”. Stop thinking someone owes you something or that you got shafted. Maybe you did, but pull up your adult pants, slip on your crap-kicker boots and get to work IMPROVING your own world. Stop complaining. The gov’t isn’t to blame (well, not for this piece). Your parents aren’t to blame. Your spouse isn’t to blame. Be honest with yourself. Look yourself in the mirror, stare deeply into your eyes and get moving. It’s all up to YOU!

Sorry this bounced all over the place – the media is making me crazy. (see how I blamed the media instead of taking responsibility for what I feed my brain and turning them OFF!!!!!)

Pam