What if I was nineteen and I lived in Ukraine? What if I wanted to be an accountant? What if I was going to school for it? What if I wasn’t getting good grades- not because I wasn’t a good student, but because my teachers had their hands dipped in governmental corruption? What if I sold my guitar so that I would have enough money to take a final? What if I needed to pass the final so I could transfer to a better school outside of Kiev? What if I didn’t pass? What if I was one answer short of passing? What if they wouldn’t let me see the test or the answers? What if all they told me was that I could try again in one month? What if they also told me that the cost of the test was going to go up because of its popularity?
What if that evening I was walking home with my girlfriend, Ivanna? What if we were super happy and super in love? What if I felt that she was all that I really had going for me? What if we unexpectedly got caught up in a violent conflict between Kiev military officers and the Right Sector? What if Ivanna and I hid behind a large tree as the fighting progressed onto the lawn and concrete steps of a government building? What if the Right Sector militants were pushing forward, hiding behind steel panels that had been welded onto construction scaffolding pipes? What if they were throwing Molotov Cocktails, starting little fires everywhere? What if some of them were trying to protect themselves by holding nothing but a car tire, or a plank of wood?
What if as I turned to Ivanna to tell her that we should run she got hit in the chest with a bullet? What if it went right through her? What if she fell backwards onto the sidewalk and by the time I put her head in my lap she was dead? What if I carried her about a hundred yards to a parking lot and laid her body on the ground behind an old bus?
What if some lady on the third level of an apartment building was waving a sheet in the air that had the words, “INSANE IN THE UKRAINE”, written on it with purple permanent marker? What if she screamed for me to take shelter with her? What if I tried to pick up Ivanna, but I couldn’t do it because I was too tired? What if in that moment a bullet hit the side of the old bus and ricochet into the flesh of my left thigh? What if I fell to the ground and started to hyperventilate? What if I forced myself to rip the bottom half of my T-shirt off to use as a bandage? What if I was losing too much blood, and in too much shock to move? What if I could see the legs of the militants moving toward us from under the bus? What if I huddled myself up to Ivanna and put my arms around her neck? What if I passed out with her cold cheek pressed against mine?


That’s enough of that, I think.

I’m not going to pretend like I’m some expert on all of the political/military/educational/blahblahblah corruption that’s going on in Ukraine and in many other places around the world. I’m not. I read headlines and I’ve watched some documentaries, etc.
It takes a lot time and effort to stay informed and up-to-date on all of the worlds current affairs. At a certain point you start to wonder if being blissed out on ignorance is really such a bad thing.

We are human, however, so we tend to feel sad and mad when other innocent humans are being killed, mercilessly, for no reason whatsoever.

Anyway, I’m sitting here writing this post on an IPad. Im at my place of employment. I’m sitting at a nice table in a nice cafeteria. I just ate a pastrami sandwich that I bought with a plastic card that’s filled up with invisible money. So…yeah. You get what I’m trying to say here, right?


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