I was working yesterday at the mall, and I noticed something.
It was something that I had seen a great number of times, but this time it really bothered me.
I was looking out towards the escalator, and I saw this young girl - she couldn't have been older than maybe five, coming down the escalator holding a woman's hand. She looked really excited, with her brown ponytail bobbing up and down as she talked with the woman I'm going to assume was her mother.
She was in white capri pants and had on a blue and black plaid shirt that was tied up in the front so that you could see just a little of her blue undershirt, and you could see from a distance just a hint of sparkling lipgloss on her smiling lips.
This girl was holding a Hollister accessory bag. The bag had on one side a nearly naked, rather muscular twenty something man, and on the other, a quite seductive (also scantily clad) woman of around the same age. the only reason you could tell the man was wearing anything at all was because you could see the top maaaybe an inch of what I'm assuming were jeans. The woman was wearing a chiffon shirt, with one button done, and a bandeau. For those of you who don't know, a bandeau is basically the socially acceptable way to wear your bra in public as the main covering for the upper portion of your body and still maintain some level of social acceptance. She wasn't even in one of their beach pictures, so I don't know what they were really going for there.
The bag probably held some headbands or maybe a bracelet that she had seen walking through the store with her mother, and just couldn't live without.
Like I said, I see that kind of thing every day, and normally I just thing "awww she's so cute" and that's the end of that. But when I saw this girl and the bag she was holding, I was really disgusted.
I mean REALLY disgusted.
Not because of her appearance, but because that bag was in her hands.
I don't have anything against Hollister, or that girl's mother, but if I were the mother of a five-year-old girl, I certainly wouldn't want my child to be exposed to that kind of sexual message at that age. That kind of a message about what people should look like. That kind of message about how to behave.
When I was younger, I LONGED to look like the women in Victoria's Secret ads, and Hollister ads, and Abercrombie Ads.
I really did. Maybe that says something about my self-esteem, or my self-confidence, but regardless I thought I was falling short of the standard that I felt I had no choice but to meet. They were everywhere - my friends wore their clothes (things we couldn't really afford at the time, though I didn't understand that) and if I didn't fit into their size "00" box, I wasn't good enough.
And I have never, ever fit into that. In all likelihood, I never will. I'm not overweight, but I'm not a Hollister model either. I'm all okay with that now, but if I were the mother of a five-year-old girl, I would be doing everything in my power to make sure that she didn't feel the need to conform to that standard like I did. Because it SHOULDN'T be the standard. In my humble opinion, there shouldn't be a standard in the first place - maybe healthy should be the standard - but I don't know, and that's not the point.
The point is, I saw a five-year-old girl - an innocent person - holding images of our hyper-sexualized culture, and it made me sick.
It makes me sick that the only way you can avoid seeing images of random, nearly naked people is by never going into public spaces. Which is really, really hard. (And also a lot less fun.)
The worst part for me is that there are some of these pictures that are leaving VERY little to the imagination - one more inch in any direction but up and we're seeing things we never intended to see, and all we wanted was lunch in the food court!
Maybe it's just me, but if my intention were to see that much of a man, he would be buying me dinner first.
Probably multiple times.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Monday, February 24, 2014
if you judged them with only your eyes, chances are you're wrong.
You know what I never posted about? An experience that I had over Christmas break from school. I was working my day job at the mall, and I got off of my shift at about two o'clock I would say, (It's been a while so I don't completely remember the time...) and I had been having a particularly difficult morning on the EDS side of things.
By the time I got done with my shift I was exhausted and I was limping rather badly because I had somehow managed to injure my left knee. My left side is my bad side, and if I can get through a day without injuring something on that side of myself, it's seriously a miracle. Anyway - I'm limping out to my car, which is parked in handicap parking, because I'm handicapped.
Lets talk about that for a minute, since I'm ranting.
I went through the arduous process of acquiring a prescription for a handicap placard from my geneticist because when I started driving I realized that walking from the south-end-of-east-parking-lot was really awful with misaligned hips. I can't tell you the number of times I tried to go to Kroger and had to sit down by the time I got to the front of the building. I'm basically an 80 year old woman - but I digress. I went through this almost two-month process because I wanted to make my life slightly less painful. I didn't do it because it would make my life more convenient, or because I wanted to play the system or anything like that. I did it because walking hurts, and no body likes pain. Agreed? Agreed. Moving on.
So I was parked in handicap parking, with MY state issued placard displayed clearly, hanging from the rear-view mirror. I finally reached my car after limping through the packed mall parking lot, (since it is Christmas season, after all) and I get in, start my engine, and begin to pull out of the space.
I see movement to my right.
There is a woman, looks like she's in her late 40s early 50s, standing next to my passenger side window. She knocks on it. I open it. I look at her questioningly and ask if I can help her, not thinking anything of it.
This woman looks at me with all the loving kindness of an upset crocodile and practically spits "You don't look very disabled - you take Mommy's car today so you wouldn't have to walk?"
I can only imagine what my face looked like after she said that. I was half pulled out of my parking space, blocking traffic, and this woman is waiting for my response. I was so upset that I burst into tears and said, "This is MY placard ma'am, from MY doctors - I have a joint disorder that causes serious pain. You don't have to be OLD to be disabled - if that's what you mean. Maybe you should think about other people's situations before you judge them - If I could have walked from the edge of this parking lot, I would have. But I can't." She shook her head as if she didn't believe me, and I continued to sob as I rolled up my window and finished vacating the parking space so that whoever she was saving it for could park.
Not all young people are self absorbed. Not all young people have no respect for authority. Not all young people think they can take advantage of systems that are there for people who need them.
Not all old people are disabled.
Not all people with disabilities are old.
Some of them are 5'4", 18 year old brunettes who can't believe that the handicap space is so far from the employee entrance.
If I had been 50, would anything have been said? 60? Maybe even 45?
What about gray hair? Would that have done it? If I had been wearing a brown scarf instead of the hot pink one my co-worker had just given me? Something more mature? Older? Would that have made me look "disabled"?
Do 30 year old men with cardiac problems walk with limps? Do they wear joint braces? Can you see their disability? No, you can't.
Would that woman have said anything to a 30 year old man, using HIS handicap placard? Probably not. Maybe he would have been old enough to be disabled, old enough to warrant respect.
Clearly my hair wasn't gray enough, my face not wrinkled enough, and my back not hunched enough. That experience has obviously effected me quite a bit, because I'm still talking about it three months later. Three months later that interaction is still etched into my mind, and I can't seem to get rid of it, because it taught me something about myself, and it taught me something about people.
I give those around me the benefit of the doubt. All the time. I think that I would want them to give it to me as well - I give people respect initially, because they have done nothing to me that warrants my behavior being anything but kind.
Most people don't give those around them the benefit of the doubt. People are judgmental, to a degree that I didn't think possible. It was severely naive of me, I know, but I didn't realize that everyone is always judging everyone else's motivations. I thought that kind of thing existed in the hallways of high schools where unfortunate kids were forced to spend four years of their lives - I thought the trivial drama stopped when you graduated. Boy was I wrong. Not only does it not stop, but it gets worse. It gets worse because after school sometimes your job, your livelihood is relying on the resolution of those petty dramatic moments. Sometimes conflict doesn't happen in parking lots, it happens in cubicles.
The point is, I was affected much more by the encounter than I would like to admit, and it's been bothering me. Someone who I personally thought would be a very nice lady was very unkind. Someone who she thought was a self absorbed young person was really a young person dealing with pain. Maybe next time she'll think twice about saying something.
If you've judged someone with only your eyes, you're probably wrong.
By the time I got done with my shift I was exhausted and I was limping rather badly because I had somehow managed to injure my left knee. My left side is my bad side, and if I can get through a day without injuring something on that side of myself, it's seriously a miracle. Anyway - I'm limping out to my car, which is parked in handicap parking, because I'm handicapped.
Lets talk about that for a minute, since I'm ranting.
I went through the arduous process of acquiring a prescription for a handicap placard from my geneticist because when I started driving I realized that walking from the south-end-of-east-parking-lot was really awful with misaligned hips. I can't tell you the number of times I tried to go to Kroger and had to sit down by the time I got to the front of the building. I'm basically an 80 year old woman - but I digress. I went through this almost two-month process because I wanted to make my life slightly less painful. I didn't do it because it would make my life more convenient, or because I wanted to play the system or anything like that. I did it because walking hurts, and no body likes pain. Agreed? Agreed. Moving on.
So I was parked in handicap parking, with MY state issued placard displayed clearly, hanging from the rear-view mirror. I finally reached my car after limping through the packed mall parking lot, (since it is Christmas season, after all) and I get in, start my engine, and begin to pull out of the space.
I see movement to my right.
There is a woman, looks like she's in her late 40s early 50s, standing next to my passenger side window. She knocks on it. I open it. I look at her questioningly and ask if I can help her, not thinking anything of it.
This woman looks at me with all the loving kindness of an upset crocodile and practically spits "You don't look very disabled - you take Mommy's car today so you wouldn't have to walk?"
I can only imagine what my face looked like after she said that. I was half pulled out of my parking space, blocking traffic, and this woman is waiting for my response. I was so upset that I burst into tears and said, "This is MY placard ma'am, from MY doctors - I have a joint disorder that causes serious pain. You don't have to be OLD to be disabled - if that's what you mean. Maybe you should think about other people's situations before you judge them - If I could have walked from the edge of this parking lot, I would have. But I can't." She shook her head as if she didn't believe me, and I continued to sob as I rolled up my window and finished vacating the parking space so that whoever she was saving it for could park.
Not all young people are self absorbed. Not all young people have no respect for authority. Not all young people think they can take advantage of systems that are there for people who need them.
Not all old people are disabled.
Not all people with disabilities are old.
Some of them are 5'4", 18 year old brunettes who can't believe that the handicap space is so far from the employee entrance.
If I had been 50, would anything have been said? 60? Maybe even 45?
What about gray hair? Would that have done it? If I had been wearing a brown scarf instead of the hot pink one my co-worker had just given me? Something more mature? Older? Would that have made me look "disabled"?
Do 30 year old men with cardiac problems walk with limps? Do they wear joint braces? Can you see their disability? No, you can't.
Would that woman have said anything to a 30 year old man, using HIS handicap placard? Probably not. Maybe he would have been old enough to be disabled, old enough to warrant respect.
Clearly my hair wasn't gray enough, my face not wrinkled enough, and my back not hunched enough. That experience has obviously effected me quite a bit, because I'm still talking about it three months later. Three months later that interaction is still etched into my mind, and I can't seem to get rid of it, because it taught me something about myself, and it taught me something about people.
I give those around me the benefit of the doubt. All the time. I think that I would want them to give it to me as well - I give people respect initially, because they have done nothing to me that warrants my behavior being anything but kind.
Most people don't give those around them the benefit of the doubt. People are judgmental, to a degree that I didn't think possible. It was severely naive of me, I know, but I didn't realize that everyone is always judging everyone else's motivations. I thought that kind of thing existed in the hallways of high schools where unfortunate kids were forced to spend four years of their lives - I thought the trivial drama stopped when you graduated. Boy was I wrong. Not only does it not stop, but it gets worse. It gets worse because after school sometimes your job, your livelihood is relying on the resolution of those petty dramatic moments. Sometimes conflict doesn't happen in parking lots, it happens in cubicles.
The point is, I was affected much more by the encounter than I would like to admit, and it's been bothering me. Someone who I personally thought would be a very nice lady was very unkind. Someone who she thought was a self absorbed young person was really a young person dealing with pain. Maybe next time she'll think twice about saying something.
If you've judged someone with only your eyes, you're probably wrong.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
i'm a fish, and we don't climb trees.
"If you judge a fish by it's ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."
I won't get in to whether or not I actually believe that this is something Einstein said, because I don't care. What I care about is that it's true. I don't mean that in the way that most people mean that though. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for being unique and not judging books by their covers and accepting people for who they are and all that jazz, but that's just not specifically what I get out of this quote, so here's your context.
I sometimes complain. Sometimes I'm a really awful person to be around - shocking, I know. But everyone complains sometimes, because everyone has their own burden to carry. Some people are in debt, some people are in a rough relationship - it just so happens that I have a chronic pain disorder. Yay me. That's not the point though. The issue is, just because my complaining about my chronic pain is a different subject than you complaining about not being able to figure out what kind of car you want to buy when you get your tax return does NOT mean that you should lecture me about my kind of complaining because somehow mine is more annoying than yours.
News flash.
My complaining is more annoying to you than your complaining is to you because mine has nothing to do with your life. You could likely listen to yourself complain about your car purchasing troubles just as long as I could listen to myself complain about my dislocated ribs, because our own lives are far more interesting to us than the lives of those around us. I'm definitely not saying that's how things should be, it's just the reality.
Everyone complains - if you don't I seriously envy your ability to let things roll off your shoulders. Really. Pass some of that patience over here. I could use it. But I'm willing to bet that you do complain, because every once and a while, everyone needs to let things out. Stuff builds up in a person and either you let that sit and fester and turn into something much bigger than it is, or you let those little things out when they happen and it makes us all a little easier to deal with in the end. At least that's my judgement of the whole thing, I could be wrong. It happens.
But the point is, it will do no one in the situation any good to listen to (or give, for that matter) a lecture about how certain people (namely myself) just need to accept that "life is just the way it is" sometimes, and that you just need to "let things happen the way they happen. Pain happens, and you move on," obviously I just need to "Get over it."
Pain happens?? It just gives me the urge to yell "Run Forest RUN" when people give me that cliché response. It's not just that generally the people saying it have no idea what I'm actually going through, it's mostly that I'm normally expecting a completely different response. When we complain (especially if the "we" here is referring to women) we generally don't want you to fix it. We don't want advice. We want you to say "Well that sucks... I'm sorry." and have that be the end of it. No one asked for a lecture.
And maybe you didn't ask to hear me talk about how my knees are really killing me because the weather doesn't understand how to calm down, but you know what? I don't care what car you're getting when you get your tax return either. Do you hear me telling you about all the other, more useful things you could be doing with that money? Preaching to you about how many needy kids could be fed with that money? Nope. You don't. Am I thinking about telling you all of those things? Yup. But because that's not what you want to hear, I keep my mouth shut, and make up an imaginary scenario that is close to but not exactly what our actual conversation was about, so that I can put it on the internet and make myself feel a little better. (Hence perpetuating the cycle of complaints...)
If maybe we could all just judge the fish by their ability to swim and the birds by their ability to fly, then we would all be a little better off. Maybe we should stop holding ourselves to a lower standard than we hold those around us. Don't you think it might be a little bit easier for all of us if we gave people the benefit of the doubt? If we let people complain every once and a while? Loosened up? Said "Man, that sucks... I'm sorry," and just let people do what they need to do, even if it's a little bit annoying for all of about two minutes of your time? Can't you maybe, just maybe, give two minutes to help someone else feel just a little bit better about something they're going through? I'll try to do it for you too - promise.
I'm a fish. I can't climb trees. I'm okay with that.
I'm not asking you to be okay with it, I'm just asking you to respect that my swimming is just as relevant a mode of transportation as your climbing. Different does not equal lesser.
Plus I'd probably dislocate something if I tried to climb trees anyway.
I won't get in to whether or not I actually believe that this is something Einstein said, because I don't care. What I care about is that it's true. I don't mean that in the way that most people mean that though. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for being unique and not judging books by their covers and accepting people for who they are and all that jazz, but that's just not specifically what I get out of this quote, so here's your context.
I sometimes complain. Sometimes I'm a really awful person to be around - shocking, I know. But everyone complains sometimes, because everyone has their own burden to carry. Some people are in debt, some people are in a rough relationship - it just so happens that I have a chronic pain disorder. Yay me. That's not the point though. The issue is, just because my complaining about my chronic pain is a different subject than you complaining about not being able to figure out what kind of car you want to buy when you get your tax return does NOT mean that you should lecture me about my kind of complaining because somehow mine is more annoying than yours.
News flash.
My complaining is more annoying to you than your complaining is to you because mine has nothing to do with your life. You could likely listen to yourself complain about your car purchasing troubles just as long as I could listen to myself complain about my dislocated ribs, because our own lives are far more interesting to us than the lives of those around us. I'm definitely not saying that's how things should be, it's just the reality.
Everyone complains - if you don't I seriously envy your ability to let things roll off your shoulders. Really. Pass some of that patience over here. I could use it. But I'm willing to bet that you do complain, because every once and a while, everyone needs to let things out. Stuff builds up in a person and either you let that sit and fester and turn into something much bigger than it is, or you let those little things out when they happen and it makes us all a little easier to deal with in the end. At least that's my judgement of the whole thing, I could be wrong. It happens.
But the point is, it will do no one in the situation any good to listen to (or give, for that matter) a lecture about how certain people (namely myself) just need to accept that "life is just the way it is" sometimes, and that you just need to "let things happen the way they happen. Pain happens, and you move on," obviously I just need to "Get over it."
Pain happens?? It just gives me the urge to yell "Run Forest RUN" when people give me that cliché response. It's not just that generally the people saying it have no idea what I'm actually going through, it's mostly that I'm normally expecting a completely different response. When we complain (especially if the "we" here is referring to women) we generally don't want you to fix it. We don't want advice. We want you to say "Well that sucks... I'm sorry." and have that be the end of it. No one asked for a lecture.
And maybe you didn't ask to hear me talk about how my knees are really killing me because the weather doesn't understand how to calm down, but you know what? I don't care what car you're getting when you get your tax return either. Do you hear me telling you about all the other, more useful things you could be doing with that money? Preaching to you about how many needy kids could be fed with that money? Nope. You don't. Am I thinking about telling you all of those things? Yup. But because that's not what you want to hear, I keep my mouth shut, and make up an imaginary scenario that is close to but not exactly what our actual conversation was about, so that I can put it on the internet and make myself feel a little better. (Hence perpetuating the cycle of complaints...)
If maybe we could all just judge the fish by their ability to swim and the birds by their ability to fly, then we would all be a little better off. Maybe we should stop holding ourselves to a lower standard than we hold those around us. Don't you think it might be a little bit easier for all of us if we gave people the benefit of the doubt? If we let people complain every once and a while? Loosened up? Said "Man, that sucks... I'm sorry," and just let people do what they need to do, even if it's a little bit annoying for all of about two minutes of your time? Can't you maybe, just maybe, give two minutes to help someone else feel just a little bit better about something they're going through? I'll try to do it for you too - promise.
I'm a fish. I can't climb trees. I'm okay with that.
I'm not asking you to be okay with it, I'm just asking you to respect that my swimming is just as relevant a mode of transportation as your climbing. Different does not equal lesser.
Plus I'd probably dislocate something if I tried to climb trees anyway.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
paranoia
At midnight I was on my way home from work in the middle of a huge thunder storm, and I was basically halfway home, and suddenly I had the worst feeling. You know that feeling you get when someone is watching you, or when something bad is about to happen? That semi-premonition-like feeling, that feels like something icky is crawling on the back of your neck? Yeah. That feeling.
So I called my sister to check and make sure that she was okay, and that the basement wasn't flooding, and that the dogs were all okay, and she basically told me to shut up and calm down. Then she decided to "help" by telling me that someone was totally following me/watching me and I got even more freaked out. Yay. So then I called my mom, who didn't answer because she is out of town, which doesn't make me feel any better about the pre-disaster feeling I have. Then I called my boyfriend, who was sleeping, and I left a message on his phone. I will probably be paranoid about that one until he calls me.
So then I decided that maybe the trash in my room and bathroom was bothering me, so I went and threw everything away and cleaned some things, and that wasn't it either.
So THEN I decided that maybe I could distract myself with the internet until I fell asleep, but that didn't work either, so I re-did my whole blog, thinking that might do something, but I'm still sitting here not sleeping, typing frantically. I have no clue what is causing this feeling, but it's going to drive me insane. I'm so glad that I don't have to go to work as early as I thought that I did, because if I had to be there at 7:15 in the morning I wouldn't be able to do anything all day.
So I can't figure out what is going on, and I have no clue how I'm supposed to go to sleep if I feel this way. I'll just lay there in bed and toss and turn imagining terrible things. Aren't there anxiety medications for these things?
So I called my sister to check and make sure that she was okay, and that the basement wasn't flooding, and that the dogs were all okay, and she basically told me to shut up and calm down. Then she decided to "help" by telling me that someone was totally following me/watching me and I got even more freaked out. Yay. So then I called my mom, who didn't answer because she is out of town, which doesn't make me feel any better about the pre-disaster feeling I have. Then I called my boyfriend, who was sleeping, and I left a message on his phone. I will probably be paranoid about that one until he calls me.
So then I decided that maybe the trash in my room and bathroom was bothering me, so I went and threw everything away and cleaned some things, and that wasn't it either.
So THEN I decided that maybe I could distract myself with the internet until I fell asleep, but that didn't work either, so I re-did my whole blog, thinking that might do something, but I'm still sitting here not sleeping, typing frantically. I have no clue what is causing this feeling, but it's going to drive me insane. I'm so glad that I don't have to go to work as early as I thought that I did, because if I had to be there at 7:15 in the morning I wouldn't be able to do anything all day.
So I can't figure out what is going on, and I have no clue how I'm supposed to go to sleep if I feel this way. I'll just lay there in bed and toss and turn imagining terrible things. Aren't there anxiety medications for these things?
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
I have discovered the wonders of instagram of late. Seriously. It's wonderful. I can do ALL KINDS OF THINGS with pictures, and then show them to the world! Not to mention the fact that a whole lot more people are interested in instagram than look at my blog... So there's that.
Also there are SO many different photographers who put their stuff on instagram. It's like, crazy.
But in other news, I'm stressed out. This is simply because I have all kinds of things that I have to get done, and not enough time to do them, so I'm using my blog as an excuse to do *none* of the things that I should be doing right now. So I should probably finish this post quickly and get back to studying for my midterm exam that I have tonight that I will inevitably fail... Not excited about that one, if you didn't notice that by the use of the phrase "inevitably fail".
Well anyway, I shall say an early goodbye to the internet, and go back to studying.
Goodbye internet...
Brie
Also there are SO many different photographers who put their stuff on instagram. It's like, crazy.
But in other news, I'm stressed out. This is simply because I have all kinds of things that I have to get done, and not enough time to do them, so I'm using my blog as an excuse to do *none* of the things that I should be doing right now. So I should probably finish this post quickly and get back to studying for my midterm exam that I have tonight that I will inevitably fail... Not excited about that one, if you didn't notice that by the use of the phrase "inevitably fail".
Well anyway, I shall say an early goodbye to the internet, and go back to studying.
Goodbye internet...
Brie
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
connecticut
Sometimes I question that there is a reason for everything - this past Friday was one of those times.
I truly, truly believe that everything happens for a reason, but there are some things that I just can't fathom there being a reason for. I mean, goodness gracious, they were children. And I keep reading everywhere out here on the internets about how this man was mentally ill, and I read about gun control legislation, and I read about things that could, or could not have prevented this tragedy, and all of it makes me want to cry.
Know why?
Because as Americans, instead of stepping back and taking a collective mental moment of silence for all of those innocent lives that were lost to the hands of a single man, we talk about mental illness. And gun control. And then when President Obama speaks about this tragedy we accuse him of pushing policy. As Americans, in our little busy bubble, we generally don't know how to slow down, and think about things.
I'm just as guilty as everyone else, unfortunately. When I heard about what happened my mind automatically filled with thoughts about the restrictions the government could have set that would have prevented this event from happening, whether those things would have worked or whether they wouldn't have - the thing is, there needn't be an argument about what could have prevented this. It can no longer be prevented, and unless the discussions about "what could have prevented it" include inventing a time machine, I believe that they need to stop. I'm not trying to be offensive when I say this, but the fact is, it doesn't matter what could have prevented this. It matters what WILL prevent these things in the future. It matters what changes will be made to prevent what happened to all of those children from happening again, to other innocent kids.
It matters what changes will be made to more parents from losing their children.
It matters what changes will be made to make students feel safe in their schools.
It matters what changes will be made to make parents feel safe sending their kids there in the first place.
We need to remember this event, and we need to remember those who were lost, but we CANNOT focus our attention on what COULD have prevented this. We need to focus on moving forward, on what WILL prevent these things in the future.
And these are, of course, just the random musings of a girl who knows very little about gun control policy, or conceal carry licensing, or regulations about guns in schools, but there is an elementary school just down the street from my house. I went there; it's so close that I walked. Every afternoon when I'm on my way home from my high school, I pass those kids getting on their busses. This little mob of 6 year olds trail up the steps and onto this big yellow machine, and they're all smiling carrying backpacks with spongebob and hello kitty on them. Each of those kids is going home to parents, or grandparents, who would be devastated if something like this were to happen to their children. They would be devastated, their family would have a rift in it.
Every day since Friday, every time I see a kid with their mom, or walking home from school, or getting off the bus, I pray. I say a prayer for every family who lost a child that day, every family who KNEW one of the children who died that day, every family who knew a family who lost someone. Because I know that if it were my family, I wouldn't care about gun control. I wouldn't care about mental illness. I would care about Grace McDonnell. And Jesse Lewis. I would care about my CHILD.
So I think everyone needs to take a step back. They need to take a moment, and not think about guns. They need to think about those children, and how to make sure that this doesn't happen to other children, to other families.
Brie
I truly, truly believe that everything happens for a reason, but there are some things that I just can't fathom there being a reason for. I mean, goodness gracious, they were children. And I keep reading everywhere out here on the internets about how this man was mentally ill, and I read about gun control legislation, and I read about things that could, or could not have prevented this tragedy, and all of it makes me want to cry.
Know why?
Because as Americans, instead of stepping back and taking a collective mental moment of silence for all of those innocent lives that were lost to the hands of a single man, we talk about mental illness. And gun control. And then when President Obama speaks about this tragedy we accuse him of pushing policy. As Americans, in our little busy bubble, we generally don't know how to slow down, and think about things.
I'm just as guilty as everyone else, unfortunately. When I heard about what happened my mind automatically filled with thoughts about the restrictions the government could have set that would have prevented this event from happening, whether those things would have worked or whether they wouldn't have - the thing is, there needn't be an argument about what could have prevented this. It can no longer be prevented, and unless the discussions about "what could have prevented it" include inventing a time machine, I believe that they need to stop. I'm not trying to be offensive when I say this, but the fact is, it doesn't matter what could have prevented this. It matters what WILL prevent these things in the future. It matters what changes will be made to prevent what happened to all of those children from happening again, to other innocent kids.
It matters what changes will be made to more parents from losing their children.
It matters what changes will be made to make students feel safe in their schools.
It matters what changes will be made to make parents feel safe sending their kids there in the first place.
We need to remember this event, and we need to remember those who were lost, but we CANNOT focus our attention on what COULD have prevented this. We need to focus on moving forward, on what WILL prevent these things in the future.
And these are, of course, just the random musings of a girl who knows very little about gun control policy, or conceal carry licensing, or regulations about guns in schools, but there is an elementary school just down the street from my house. I went there; it's so close that I walked. Every afternoon when I'm on my way home from my high school, I pass those kids getting on their busses. This little mob of 6 year olds trail up the steps and onto this big yellow machine, and they're all smiling carrying backpacks with spongebob and hello kitty on them. Each of those kids is going home to parents, or grandparents, who would be devastated if something like this were to happen to their children. They would be devastated, their family would have a rift in it.
Every day since Friday, every time I see a kid with their mom, or walking home from school, or getting off the bus, I pray. I say a prayer for every family who lost a child that day, every family who KNEW one of the children who died that day, every family who knew a family who lost someone. Because I know that if it were my family, I wouldn't care about gun control. I wouldn't care about mental illness. I would care about Grace McDonnell. And Jesse Lewis. I would care about my CHILD.
So I think everyone needs to take a step back. They need to take a moment, and not think about guns. They need to think about those children, and how to make sure that this doesn't happen to other children, to other families.
Brie
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
just to catch you up...
So today I got to go to the ER and learn that I'm not pregnant. Which was quite pointless considering everyone and their mom KNOWS that I'm not pregnant. So yeah.
Geeks don't have time for that ish. ANYWAY.
What I should have been learning while in the ER was what is wrong with my hip... Which is still up in the air. Apparently ignoring my PTs (while making me feel a whole lot better about myself and lose all kinds of weight and generally making my life wonderful) made me start doing things that I maybe shouldn't do... Like things that generally end by me hurting myself. I don't really know what I did, but my right hip is in the wrong place, and it keeps rubbing against something that it shouldn't be rubbing against when I'm walking or running or existing. When things bother me no matter what I do though, I tend to just leave them be and go about business as usual assuming that they will go away on their own eventually. This didn't. Obviously.
So this morning I went to the school nurse when I got to school to drop off my wheelchair with him, and I realized that I really needed to go see what was going on with the hip. I mean, I pretty much sat around in his office trying to pop the thing back, to no avail. I tried everything. Then he suggested that it might not even be that the hip isn't back in the right place, it could be that I've damaged soft tissue around the joint and that I really probably should go get MRIs done so that we can see what is really going on in there as opposed to just assuming that everything is fine like an idiot... AKA me. So I listened for once, called my mommy, and went to the hospital. And as previously stated, all I learned is that I'm not pregnant. Yay.
I'm pretty sure I made some people's days though. Like the nurses in admissions, and the registration lady and such. Everyone there thinks I'm funny because my attitude is great when I'm injured. I don't know why, but thats generally what happens. I end up in a really good mood, for some reason or other, and it is much to the amusement of everyone around me. Whatever works I guess. Plus when they have to take my weight, it takes me about a total of three and a half years to take my shoes off because I still have to wear those awful boots everywhere so that they keep my ankles in place when I'm walking. Honestly though. Three years is a long time for them to find out that I still weigh 64 kilos. (Which is odd because I've been losing weight...? Oh well.)
IN OTHER NEWS
I got my Canon T3i!!! It's wonderful. It can do everything under the sun and I'm still learning how all of the amazingness works. There are all these menus and options, and there are accessories that I still need to get for it. I'm so excited though!! Hopefully soon I'll have a cover up on youtube using it as the camera. I'm so excited about that!! Seriously. No more dinky camera from my ipod for videos of me singing. XD
Oh! And I sent in the senior pic that I'm using in the yearbook. I edited it and everything, and I'm pretty proud. It though, was taken by a T2i that belongs to my mom's best friend, Jen. the camera is wonderful, she is wonderful, and the pic was wonderful for me to edit. So I guess wonderful was the theme that day?
Geeks don't have time for that ish. ANYWAY.
What I should have been learning while in the ER was what is wrong with my hip... Which is still up in the air. Apparently ignoring my PTs (while making me feel a whole lot better about myself and lose all kinds of weight and generally making my life wonderful) made me start doing things that I maybe shouldn't do... Like things that generally end by me hurting myself. I don't really know what I did, but my right hip is in the wrong place, and it keeps rubbing against something that it shouldn't be rubbing against when I'm walking or running or existing. When things bother me no matter what I do though, I tend to just leave them be and go about business as usual assuming that they will go away on their own eventually. This didn't. Obviously.
So this morning I went to the school nurse when I got to school to drop off my wheelchair with him, and I realized that I really needed to go see what was going on with the hip. I mean, I pretty much sat around in his office trying to pop the thing back, to no avail. I tried everything. Then he suggested that it might not even be that the hip isn't back in the right place, it could be that I've damaged soft tissue around the joint and that I really probably should go get MRIs done so that we can see what is really going on in there as opposed to just assuming that everything is fine like an idiot... AKA me. So I listened for once, called my mommy, and went to the hospital. And as previously stated, all I learned is that I'm not pregnant. Yay.
I'm pretty sure I made some people's days though. Like the nurses in admissions, and the registration lady and such. Everyone there thinks I'm funny because my attitude is great when I'm injured. I don't know why, but thats generally what happens. I end up in a really good mood, for some reason or other, and it is much to the amusement of everyone around me. Whatever works I guess. Plus when they have to take my weight, it takes me about a total of three and a half years to take my shoes off because I still have to wear those awful boots everywhere so that they keep my ankles in place when I'm walking. Honestly though. Three years is a long time for them to find out that I still weigh 64 kilos. (Which is odd because I've been losing weight...? Oh well.)
IN OTHER NEWS
I got my Canon T3i!!! It's wonderful. It can do everything under the sun and I'm still learning how all of the amazingness works. There are all these menus and options, and there are accessories that I still need to get for it. I'm so excited though!! Hopefully soon I'll have a cover up on youtube using it as the camera. I'm so excited about that!! Seriously. No more dinky camera from my ipod for videos of me singing. XD
Oh! And I sent in the senior pic that I'm using in the yearbook. I edited it and everything, and I'm pretty proud. It though, was taken by a T2i that belongs to my mom's best friend, Jen. the camera is wonderful, she is wonderful, and the pic was wonderful for me to edit. So I guess wonderful was the theme that day?
Can you guess which one is for the yearbook??
It's the first one. In case you didn't notice.
That second one is me in the most awesome outfit ever, at the hospital this morning. That's my "I'm so thrilled to be here" face. This one was after they finally gave me the second gown to wear backwards so that my behind wasn't flappin' around everywhere in my blue undies... seriously. Someday I'm going to invent a cheap hospital gown that actually covers your butt. How hard is it really to do that?? Not hard. Maybe a teeny tiny bit more fabric. Plus, they make those gowns cover so little, and then make the rooms so cold!! IT makes no logical sense what-so-ever... ANYWAY. Apparently dots are the new thing in hospital apparel. Who knew?
Brie
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