Why do I care?

Most people who I'm close to (and a few that I'm not) are pretty well aware of my political views. Why? Because I can't seem to shut up about them. Whenever somebody in Washington does something idiotic, I seem to go a little crazy. I've probably written a letter to my congressional representatives once a week for the last six months (Tim Ryan always replies, too. He probably thinks I'm a stalker.), and during the lead-up and beginning months of the Iraq war Bush apparently felt I'd exceeded my quota for presidential letters (I started getting responses from one of his senior assistants instead). If there's a progressive rally or march within 50 miles, I'm bugging somebody to come along with me. I can't watch "Scarborough Country" because I'm too tempted to throw something at the TV. If I'm home or visiting my father and somebody feels the need to watch "The O'Reilly Factor," I literally have to leave the house.

Today I'm sitting at my desk stewing over Karl Rove's latest comments, which provide further proof that he's an idiot. I'm so pissed off about it that I can't even focus on my work. It's pathetic, how much misguided passion I pour into political issues when I can't even get my own life in order. So it's gotten me thinking, what's the point? Wouldn't I'd be happy if I were completely apathetic? I mean, is Bush (or Ryan, or Powell, or whoever I've written to lately) going to do a single thing any differently just because I've spewed my bleeding-heart rhetoric into a letter that he never reads? There are millions of Americans who don't give a flip about politics, and they probably sleep a lot better than I do. Why put so much energy into keeping up with something that seems so pointless?

But I know I'll never change. I pay too much attention to what's happening around me, and I can't dismiss the facts--my sister struggling to live without affordable health insurance; Ed's health failing and the hopelessness of thousands of ALS, Alzheimer's, and Parkinson's Disease sufferers who will continue to exist without the possibility of a cure because our government doesn't support stem-cell research; the orange-grey cloud of pollution that hangs over Houston; the ghost towns all over Ohio and the Midwest that have all but shut down thanks to outsourcing, unemployment, and the Walmart-ization of American commerce. I want to sigh and think, oh well, we're all on our own in this country, and we have to do the best we can. But I can't do it! I can't be okay with knowing that the resources exist to completely eliminate world poverty, and yet it's like pulling teeth to get the G8 to forgive the debt in some of the world's poorest countries.

I hate how self-righteous I probably sound, because it's not like I have any real answers. Like I said, I can't even manage the complications of my own relationships, let alone the massive debacles of world affairs. In the tradition of all great gen-X-ers, I blame my parents for my unreasonable zeal. They made me follow this rule from the time I was old enough to bitch out loud: "never complain unless you're willing to take action." It stuck, curse them. I'd love to be apathetic. Really, I would. But I can't do it. Bleh.