I was sick for what ended up being about four weeks. I’m sick again, but nowhere near as bad (mostly just mild aggravation at this point; blame the steroids for ruining my immune system =P).
I’ve been force-choked by my little buddy after she sucked the Midichlorians (probably spelled that wrong and, good God
, I couldn’t possibly care!) out of my bloodstream.
My trusted Communist Comrade betrayed me completely by referencing the above-mentioned D= How could you, Starlight? We overthrew the corrupt bourgeoisie together! Our blood, sweat, and tears flooded the streets of St. Petersburg as one! xD
It turns out that Starlight’s day job is compensated with minimum wage, much like my own. [Insert Applejack crying on the outside here]
A legitimate political argument took place. [Facepalm FACEPALM FACEPALM!]
For shame, everypony, you should all know better than to allow something as paltry as politics to come between you.
“So, do you have anything to say about politics?” I asked casually. As casually as one can while a tiny, grey, bat-winged mare is biting one’s finger.
Medi, the tiny mare, a pegasus pony of sorts, released my finger and began processing the blood she drew. Which means she swirled the blood in her mouth and smacked her lips loudly, which sounded like miniature bubbles popping. She looked up at me quizzically, then turned and gave the sampled finger another taste. A staccato of tongue clicks later she looked up to me again.
“Your blood levels are normal, you can donate platelets again if you wish with no drop in clotting ability. Also, I detect no presence of parasites, Blackbird. What makes you think you have ticks?” Her gold-rimmed pupils glistened as waited for my answer.
It took me a few moments to understand the source of her misunderstanding. “No no no,” I shook my head. “Not Poly- as in many, and ticks- as in blood-sucking parasites, but politics. You know, what political party do you favor?”
“Oh,” Medi dropped her head. “I thought we were friends.”
It was my turn to look quizzical. “We are, Medi, what’s wrong?”
“From what I’ve seen, people only ask those questions if they dislike you.” Medi lifted her nose slightly and stared up, looking for all the world like a grey puppy.
“What? That’s not why… Why do you think that?” I asked, intrigued.
“Well, I’ve seen that some will stop talking to others if they wear a red hat. Others say mean things whenever a certain Representative says something. Others seem to live for the moment that they can argue loudly and unkindly with someone with a different viewpoint.”
I nodded. “Yes, that does happen sometimes. But it doesn’t mean I won’t be your friend just because I asked.”
Medi looked down. “I just don’t like it at all. Broad assumptions are made about others once they answer that question. They just label each other and start name-calling. Nobody is a label. So don’t label me and file me in a category. I’m not a manilla folder.”
“I agree, you much cuter that that.” I scritched under her chin with a finger, but she didn’t smile.
But it happens all the time! Complete strangers will hate each other because of a red hat, or a white dress, or a shirt with face on it. Passionate feelings on one topic cause assumptions on five other topics that are completely unrelated. It’s wrong! People are complicated, they have different views on many things, and they should! There are no easy, fast, answers to any problem in the world. But no one wants to talk about the problems, they just want to assign perceived blame, yell, and label to each other. And once they’re labeled, all talking stops and the hatred begins.
“And that is what politics seems to do. Allow people to say, ‘You like this man, so you must be evil’, or, ‘you agree with her, so you must be an idiot’. What happened to sharing and understanding viewpoints? Don’t we all have something to share and contribute?”
Medi’s eyes glistened. “I want to just be friends with the unique person you are.”
I looked down, suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry I asked.”
Medi flew up and patted my hair. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. I’m glad we could talk.”
I looked up and smiled. Medi, still hovering, smiled back. “The only label I want to call you is your name.”
“It would be great if we all took that advice.” I answered, and carefully wrapped her up in a fuzzy hug against my cheek.