I'm still sore

My legs hurt. I got done just before ten, was technically finished canvassing around nine and two hours later, all the most prevalent sensation in my body is that of blood rushing to help repair the destroyed myelin sheaths in my poor little calvesies. It hurts, but it's a good kind of pain; like the kind you feel the day after an epic dance class or when you finish an intense run. It's the kind of pain you're proud of because you know it's worth something. You aren't feeling this for no reason; that pain is going the product of and still yet to produce something wonderful, certainly something worth it.
This has been a looong day for me. I've never had to work a ten-hour shift before and certainly not one that entailed having doors shut in my face and elderly know-it-alls suggesting that I "educate" myself more on the topic. It was hard and it was long and having procured only fifty dollars after three hours hurt. Still does. I choose to take this pain with the same perspective I lend to the soreness in my legs.
I'm tired. I've been tired for hours, really, and it isn't just the walking. Canvassing through Buckhead was quite the adventure and as many do, this little trek gave me some interesting perspective. When you see out of your own eyes for so long, it's easy to forget how many different POVs there are out there. There are the gracious but cautious well-bred people who don't want to slam the door in your face but aren't committing themselves to a group based on the smile of some girl off the street. I feel for them and I appreciate them more for their willingness to listen than their eagerness to join our cause. Then their are the deep-set "convervatives" who aren't willing to take a stand against oil companies because they don't know what will stand up in their place. They disregard people like me because of our youth and our eagerness to "make a difference" as if our idealistic aspirations are somehow a byproduct of our ignornce. Meanwhile, they know the truth and they simply don't care. These are my favorites, really. As a canvasser, it's annoying, because they take up time that we could spend getting the attention of people who would really contribute. But as the student of human nature that I am, determined to carve for myself a political future, it's like candy; both enticing and toxic. If I could I would have sat in each of these such people's kitchens and gone hashed out our differences right then and there (as civily as I could of course). I can't right now, because that isn't my focus, but the prospect illicited a little geeky anticipation that I might one day have the chance to take all of this opposition on. And then there are the haters. They're neither hurt nor envious. Their type of hatred is the worst: the kind that comes out of the notion that they should hate because they are entitled to. One woman followed me down the street in her car demanding to know what I was doing in her neighborhood and throwing thinly veiled threats at me for "soliciting" without a permit. These people I'd rather not deal with as I'm just far too tempted to point out to them what terrible human beings they are. I just listened to this woman undermine my cause and my method of acquiring support for it all the while my mind was racing with mental tears and angry shouting that included how she didn't deserve her beautiful home. And it was a beautiful home, even though she had a dog who went up and down the street peeing on other people's mail boxes (which is against the law whether you have a permit or not)and one of her statues looked like it needed a new head. It was a beautiful area that belied the spirits of many of it's occupants. That isn't to say it was a snooty neighborhood full of people who looked down their nose at us, but it was a slow day and people's conceit was a big part of that. Raising fifty dollars in three hours was...discouraging to say the least. And still we pressed on. After awhile, it wasn't the ungraciousness that offended me so much as the condescension.
I do not take kindly to being talked down to and all too often we had the misfortune of dealing with people who just thought we were wrong. They're young, they thought, they're simply jumping onto whatever hot button issue is big among their generation and foolishly thinking they can change the world. They're uninformed, they assume. They hear about and oil spill and they don't do any research of their own rather than blowing one news story out of proportion. Then of course there was the gentleman who thought the whole matter of fighting oil was nonsense because it made life unnecessarily complicated. "We all have to maintain a certain lifestyle," he said. And what of the lifestyles that will never be the same in Mississippi and Louisiana due in part to the indifference of people like him? We can't all enjoy a certain lifestyle; it will happen at the expence of someone else. Sometimes it's worth it. In this case, it isn't. I understand that I see this issue through my biased eyes and a person who complains when her mother plays in the fireplace because it's bad for the climate but really? No one is blowing the dangers of off-shore drilling out of proportion. At this point, the only thing blown out of proportion is the drilling equipment responsible for safely procuring oil. It's gushing is destroying the livelihood of innocent Americans who depend on a decent marine ecosystem and threatens the welfare of the entire east coast and you dare say we don't have a good enough grasp on the issue? Something very bad happened. We don't want it to happen again. The way to ensure that it doesn't happen is not to let it. She says as she clenches the issue for dear life. Sorry I just had to get that out.
But even with such frustrations as that, at the end of the day, I was glad for how I spent those nine and a half hours. I was proud of the conversations I had with the people who I'd talekd to and eager to sway the minds of those who were less than supportive. And I, like so many teachers, parents, social workers and police officers, had a light-bulb moment. I got to meet a rattler fan who loved the environment and supported our work a hundred percent. I got to hear him say how much he loved and missed Tallahassee and share with him some other issues we're concerned with as well as some of our accomplishment on old issues. I got to meet his beautiful daughter when she came out to show him her gack! the most fun thing a kid could have and stare up at us with her big blues eyes as cool and clear as the ocean used to be. She seemed to beg us to protect her coastal beaches at the same time she gave us hope for the future, even in light of the stoic opposition her elders had given us at previous houses. It was late in the evening, the sun was going down and I was at the point where I didn't want to know on anyone's door anymore for fear of disturbing their dinner or family time and making enemies rather than friends. It took all day, but it was all the confirmation I needed that what I was doing was right. I wish I could do more and someday I will. For now, I do what I can and push through the pain.