When I Swear that I don’t Have a Gun

Did you ever wish you had a gun? I know some of you out there do, and that’s fine. I know how to shoot guns from summer camp. Rifles mostly. We would go hunting for targets printed on trees. If hunting meant you lying on a mat in a fanned area of the facility in the shade.

Or, you could get those crooked casino game guns. You know, that little machine gun tied into a fixed position and you can shoot the star all you want, but one tiny piece is left and you lose.

I’m in a state where gun control is fairly rigid. Not that I think I would own one by choice. I was watching a show out of Texas, some reality bull TV, and the girl had a pink gun. It was the first time I ever wanted a gun. Not for the gun itself, but it was pink. Yes, I went through a pink phase, where everything just had to be pink. Even if I didn’t know how to use the pink thing I had. Like the gun the girl bought.

Lately, due to my mental health issues the question has come up a lot. “Do I own a gun?” Part of me thinks to lie, say yes, just to see what would happen. Part of me wants to start reciting Nirvana’s “Come as you Are.” Either seems a bit nutty so I just say no. I think even if I did own a gun, the, “no” would pop out of my mouth anyway. For fear of some NSA no fly list category gets checked in their papers. Or, maybe say it to just to break out in song during the question and answer period. A mix to the mundane stroll of questions that would probably get me committed.

I wonder if they are asking if I would kill myself, or go all mass murder with it? I almost want to say yes just to see what would happen. I mean, sure, next thing you know the FBI is holding my family, dogs, and cats hostage because some girl in a crisis tells you they had a gun. Can’t be too safe these days. Messing with the FBI is not something on my to do list, mostly because they can mess with me much worse, with greater consequences. But is that what I really expect to happen because I claim to own a gun. And wouldn’t they be kind of silly to listen to a girl who obviously has mental health issues talk about owning a gun?

The truth is, I wouldn’t begin to even know what to do with a gun. My gun knowledge stems from forced summer camp learning, which also required basket-weaving and woodworking (and god knows I didn’t retain much of that information either), followed by a bunch of Bruce Willis and Steven Seagal action flicks, and ends with Grand Theft Auto (cheat codes included). Then sprinkle in a tiny bit of Elmer Fudd, and there-in lies my knowledge of guns.

So why ask me this question? If I say yes, I mean, let’s say, sure, I own a gun. Now what? Oh, you expect me to use the thing? Die Hard didn’t give me training in any of the guns I’d be comfortable owning (you know, not the pink girly ones), and I doubt they sell guns some rabbit can tie in a bow. The ones I see on Instagram seem more fashion then function, which is actually the kind I want. The pink one. Shooting it would make it dirty, no? Or does it make me dangerous?

I suppose with training, sure, I could be as good as anyone else with my pink swaravski crystal gun of Kardashian fame. But let’s face it, this question isn’t going to tell you anything about anyone. It’s not illegal to own a gun, and while I agree that certain guns should be kept out of people’s hands, how is asking me this question tell you whether or not I am going to shoot up a place? Can’t search me for a gun I don’t admit to having, and even if I did, you don’t know what gun I have. More or less if I even have the faintest idea of how to use it.

This isn’t meant to be a pro-gun, or anti-gun. It’s kind of meant to be funny. Like singing, “Come as you Are,” funny when being asked these questions. Which I don’t recommend.

School Shootings/Bullying

I want to start off my post echoing the sentiments of sorrow for those children in Florida.  Not only those dead, but those living through this nightmare.

I understand that this shooting has also sparked conversations about gun control and mental illness.  I think enough has been covered on that, and will continue to be covered.  I will leave those arguments to the politicians and lobbyists, to the professionals in the field and the students who will now suffer the psychological effects of surviving such a massacre; to the parents who will suffer the grief of losing a child so early.

I am also not here to blame the victims.

One thing I feel fails to be covered in this mess is bullying.  I was a junior in high school when two students opened fire on Columbine High School.  The interviews that followed talked about troubled children and how much the two boys were bullied by their classmates.  Anti-bullying campaigns began to start in schools, and I followed suit, starting The Student/Community Alliance in my high school, to show the psychological effects of bullying and isolation from peers.  I was happy bullying was finally brought to the forefront, as bullying can cause consequences such as this to happen.

There is only so long a person can take it before they break.  Sometimes the break is into anger, causing backlash, to fight back, sometimes to the extreme, as in the case of Columbine High School.  Sometimes students turn that anger inwards, and the break is ending their own lives.  This is actually fairly common, but the media likes the sensationalism of a massacre, and the massacre to own’s own self often doesn’t make national news, or if it does, it’s very brief.

This is not talked about in the case of Florida.  It’s not mentioned at all.  And, while no one wants to blame the victim, and the world is very politically charged right now, sometimes we have to look inward.  Sometimes we have to look at ourselves in how this happened.  And no one is doing this.  I feel that gun control, mental health topics, and simply pushing this guy off as a “monster” is not going to solve this problem.  It will happen again, and again, and again.  It has.  The 90s had many school shootings.  I grew up in a time where this was at the forefront of every teacher.  When bullying started to become a conversation, because the student shooters that did not kill themselves, like Kipland Kinkel, spoke about the anger of being isolated from bullying peers.  We didn’t label these children as monsters and push them out as a fluke.  It was too common.

So where is this conversation now?

My thinking sparked from an interview with one of the students that a reporter spoke to the day of the shooting.  When they finally found out who the actual shooter was, the reporter went down the line, and one student spoke up.

He spoke about how this child was labeled as “weird” by his classmates.  No one spoke to him because he was so dark.  His social media sites indicated a child with some severe mental health problems who needed help, which prompted some students even contact the FBI out of concerns.  He ate by himself and it was even “joked” that he was voted most likely to shoot up the school.  That everyone knew it.

So, here you have a boy who had lost his parents, had no other family, and was adopted by a family, who then died.  (This is the latest stories coming out as of today, so this information may change over time).  He was staying with a sort of foster family until he turned 18.

Let’s start with this information only.  His parents were lost, and he was adopted into, according to latest reports, a fairly loving family.  He may have been a bit weird, but tell me what teenager isn’t.  The adoptive parents never appeared to have reported any serious problems with him, and the child has a clear legal history.

He lost them, and was invited to live with a local family who took him in.  His social media turned very dark, but the “foster” family never noted any dangerous implications from him.  The latest interview on today’s morning show, they are quoted, “we never knew we were living with a monster.”  That’s very sad to me, and says a lot of how they thought of him while he was living with them.  He was just “staying with them,” so they weren’t even an official foster family.  Did they check his social media?  Did they pay enough attention to a child who had lost the two parents who he had been raised by? The people he considered his mother and father? Are you just two people who “put him up so he could finish high school,” and now want no responsibility in your ignoring warning signs that there was a severe problem? I am aware he was in therapy, but therapists are not those who love you.  Did he feel love that he lost?

A child grieving, goes to school and is isolated by his peers.  Withdrawn, and therefore called “weird.”  Joked about.  When he ate lunch alone did you offer to go up and sit with him? How about instead of just being weird, did you consider grieving, especially at a young age, can cause a teenage mind, a still developing brain, to be awkward and reclusive?

Did anyone at that school do anything, instead of laughing about him in the hallways and even telling the cameras that you openly picked on him, joked about him, and didn’t attempt to talk to the kid?

How would you feel? Joked about by everyone in your school, isolated? Did he “not eat lunch with anyone” or did you not eat lunch with him? Was he so sad and isolated, lost his family, and anyone care? Did you go on social media and be excited that he was forced out of the school?

A massacre to one’s peers takes a lot of anger.  A lot.  This was personal, especially since he had left school.  And before you say, “everyone is bullied at some point in their life,” I am not talking about a little bit of schoolyard name-calling here.  That doesn’t cause this kind of anger.  I know that anger.

I was bullied because of my weight.  I had no friends, zero.  I was barked at in hallways, and even beaten up by guys.  I was always terrified of the last day of school, TERRIFIED, because kids could do what they wanted and they was no recourse.  In fourth grade I was sexual assaulted on the last day of school, and the teacher told me there was nothing he could do so to just ignore it.  On the bus ride home, in the fifth grade, a kid who had stolen a lighter by his older brother successfully lit my hair on fire.  I was able to get it out before serious damage occurred, but I still have nightmares about it.  Being surrounded by kids with nowhere to go, and my hair on fire while they laughed at me.  Told me I was less then a person.  I never took the bus home on the last day of school again.

My first suicide attempt happened in the fourth grade.  My mother found me just as I stuck my head through a homemade noose in my closet.  I had fashioned it out of a hanger.  She saw me jump off a box.  Thankfully, a hanger is a terrible thing to try and make a noose out of and jump off.  Or maybe it was my weight.  Either way it didn’t work, but I will always remember her face.  A mix of helplessness and horror.  She grabbed me and just cried.  We cried together.

In the sixth grade the police had to get involved.  We had bus stops where the school buses would pick us up.  Our school bus was running late.  As usual I was bullied, but that day four out of the boys picked up sticks.  They beat me with them.  Four boys.  I had taken one of those four boys to a baseball game last year.  These were kids who, in general, I considered my friends.  We hung out after school, played games of manhunt.  There weren’t a lot of kids my age, and really no girls, so while they picked on me, we also hung out.  At least they were nice to me some of the time.

And now they were beating me up.  Sadly, and to this day, one of the boys who was really mean to me, we never hung out, and I didn’t know his name.  That’s how much he meant to me.  We went to the same bus stop for a year, he was one of five boys, and I, the only girl, so there wasn’t a lot of us, and I never bothered to learn his name.  He didn’t even really know mine.  But here he was, one of these four boys beating me up, calling me a dog, telling me that no one would care if a dog like me got beat up.  I think what hurt the most was that fifth kid.  He could have done something about it.  His mother was a stay at home mom, and she was a few houses away from the bus stop.  I know this was before cell phones, but he sat there and read while I got beat up.  He “didn’t want to get involved.”   Want to know the sad part? This wasn’t the first time this had happened, it was just the first time the bus was so late that it gave the kids a sense of confidence and they just kept going.  The yellow bus didn’t save me until almost 45 minutes after it was scheduled to show up.  I was such a bloody, whipped mess that I had no choice but to tell.  The bus driver said nothing when I got on the bus, the girl who sat next to me, when she got on and saw my face forced me to say something.  This was a girl who picked on me as well, and I asked her why she cared, that she hated me.  She said, “I don’t hate you so much that you deserve that.”

The school and police deemed that quiet kid just as responsible and the mother actually confronted me about it.  Came up to me and confronted me, alone.  I told her that I never said her son was involved, that her son did nothing.  She wanted to know why her son, therefore, was in trouble.  I told her again, “because your son did NOTHING.  Do you get it?” I walked away and told my mom.  She was told never to speak to me again.

Sadly, this further isolated me from the kids in my neighborhood.  But, because of what the girl on the bus said, I actually got some self-confidence.  Maybe they don’t hate me.  I thought everyone hated me.  It kind of felt good, that even though they barked at me and called me horrible names, that they didn’t “hate” me.  Luckily, later that year a girl did move near, and we became fast friends.  So I didn’t care about the boys at the bus stop.  Two were better than one, and I now had a girl friend to sit with me at the stop.

I shared these stories because bullying is horrible.  It’s sad to be isolated and leads to incidents like the above.  I share these stories because they spark anger in me even today.  Even today I am angry that charges were never pursued.  I am afraid of what I will do, almost 20 years later, if I were to meet those kids again.  Part of me wants to go on their social media pages and tell their friends how they abused a woman.

That anger doesn’t go away because school is over.  And those are just a few of the incidents I suffered and survived from.  And I try to put myself in the shoes of a child who is so angry he brought a gun into the school and started firing.  What he really went through in his mind.  Maybe he isn’t a monster, just a kid who wanted it to stop.  Because in your mind it never stops.  And don’t tell me that even though he dropped out of school those students didn’t continue to say nasty things on his social media pages, or to each other knowing he could read it.

And that isn’t talked about.  Our responsibility in the making of this “monster” isn’t talked about at all.  And it needs to be.  Because all the gun control and mental health treatment in the world isn’t going to prevent this from happening again if parents continue to wipe their bullying child under the rug.  If schools don’t educate, and if kids isolate one another and pick on them until the person can’t take it anymore.

So I believe there is no monster in this.  The student’s that talked the media that day spoke about how he smelled, how he dressed.  They were still picking on him as their classmates laid dead.  Both sides are in the wrong.  Did they deserve to die for it? Absolutely not.  Is what he did okay, or normal? Absolutely not.  Did he have other mental illnesses going on that contributed to this? Probably.  Should he have had access to a gun due to that? Well, looks like from what he was suffering from, the answer would be no.  Would gun control and mental health reforms be a good thing in preventing this? Yeah.  Would having those things in place have prevented this? I don’t think so.

Our conversation should be about bullying.  The access to the gun isn’t the problem, he could have done this with a bat, an ax, a knife.  This is a kid who was so angry at the world, and the world just ignored him and added fire to it everyday.  And instead, the world is turning away from him AGAIN, labeling him as a monster, even by his own friends he was living with.  He has no one on his side.  He didn’t have anyone on his side in high school, the people he loved are dead, and the world wants to use him for political fodder on gun control.

We are the monsters here.  They didn’t deserve to die, no one did.  But this kid was failed.  Is continuing to be failed before our very eyes.  And no one cares, no one will stop it.  He is now being bullied by the world.

Does he deserve that?

 

Him

So, I decided to be bold.  To go where I want this blog to go.  Politics and Religion are scary subjects to me.  I don’t like to isolate people, and I certainly don’t want to preach.  But, that’s what I like to write, or what seems to be writing itself.  So, here we go:

Politics.  Honestly, Democrat or Republican, I don’t care about the party.  It’s him.  I don’t like him.  Even writing this scares me.  Somehow I feel that this will come to bite me later on.  I don’t know what he’s going to do with our country, I don’t know where we are going.  But I feel it’s bad.

You know, he didn’t even tell us what he was doing? The State of the Union (or, as the tickets reportedly said, “State of the Uniom,” but I don’t know how true that is), but the speech didn’t say… anything.

Sure, I love our soldiers, and whatever he said about God and our country was beautiful.  I love how he highlighted our heroes.  Well, he did that whenever the clapping stopped.  It was actually hard to follow.  Too much clapping.  But it’s not my main concern.  It’s what he didn’t say.

He didn’t say anything about what he was doing this year.  And, really, I love our soldiers and God and this country.  I love our heroes and the work they do, and I daydream about what heroic things I would do if faced in their situation (even though I’d probably not do anything heroic if such things would happen; just cower in a corner crying).  I admire them.

But that’s not what a State of the Union is.  And that, honestly, scared me into silence.  (see how heroic I am?).  Distraction is a wonderful tool.  How can you not like what he said? It’s beautifully patriotic.  It’s hard to speak of it’s inappropriateness.  But it wasn’t the appropriate time.  And he knew that.  He distracted us.  He either has no plan, and is running our country on whatever whim he has at the moment.  Or he has a plan he doesn’t want us to know.  Though, I fear it’s probably a mix of both, which is scary enough when you consider this isn’t some hotel chain, but a chain of States.  This is a country we are talking about.  My country.

Part of me feels like, if he continues, I would be jailed for saying any of this.  Maybe it’s an irrational fear, a slippery slope fallacy.  Maybe I’m too influenced by the media and my father’s obsession with everything WW2 related.  Maybe he won’t do anything, or maybe we have opened the door for worse.  It’s not so much him, but what he’s setting us up for.  For what’s next to come.  Germany had a bad, incompetent leader who was destroying an already destroyed country.  He opened the door for some one to come in who was better.  Russia did the same.  From monarchy to Lenin’s revolt, to a “better” Stalin.

It takes people who are fed up and a good guy in sheep’s clothing.  But, I don’t think Trump will go down easily.  And I do feel like the system is set up to re-balance itself.  Whatever is coming will certainly be Trump’s branding.  But I do worry it’s going to be Trump himself.  Or, if he is actually impeached…. well… impeachment is just charges, remember Nixon resigned before being impeached, and Clinton, our only successfully impeached president, continued until his presidency officially ended.  Impeachment is just an investigation, it is not a throw-away.  And we need to actually charge him with something.  It’s also a violation of the law to investigate some one just to charge them with anything.  It would be like an officer following you around, looking at your records, and showing up with a search warrant to look at everything because he want’s to accuse you of something, as soon as he can find out what that is.  They can’t do that, even to our president.  It does violate his rights as a citizen.

But let’s say we do.  We find something.  Impeachment isn’t eviction.  I highly doubt if charges are filed against him and an official investigation starts, it means he will step down.  He’s free to continue to run the country into the ground.  The best case scenario is actually the worse case scenario.  Pence takes over.  I don’t know if he’d be a really good boy, and leave well enough alone to quietly be replaced in the next election, or he’s worse.  Which is how these things tend to go.  Replacing one incompetent reality TV star leader who has no idea what he’s doing (well, minus the reality TV fame) with something worse.  Like Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, Mao, Castro.  All revolutionary replacements to what people thought was the worst.

But it could just be irrational.  He could just finish his four (long) years, and go quietly (if he keeps to his word about not running again, and as you know his word means sh**.)

It’s not a party issue.  It’s him.  I can’t believe it happened, but at the same time I can.  I watch the news call a home-made ammeter porn actress “American Royalty.”   I don’t even watch the show, or follow celebrity news, but everything she touches, her entire family, is followed almost more than actual royalty.  I can’t not watch, she’s everywhere.  The whole family.  I feel like I know more about them and what they are doing then I do about my own family comings and goings.

Who knows, maybe one of them will follow in Trump’s footsteps.

See what we opened the door too? Worse.  You, unqualified, non-political, everyday man or woman, you too can become president.  Why not?

It’s why I don’t want Oprah.  We don’t need another reality TV star actress to run our country.  Reagan was a lucky fluke.  But he was also really involved in politics.  Not business or show business politics, real running the country politics.  With a politically motivated wife who wanted both she and her husband to succeed.  We can’t just hope some one “outside” will come in with better ideas.  No more actors, hotel business owners, reality TV star hosts for me.  For us.

I’m scared of him.  I’m poor, I’m hurt.  I worry about the people I represent, or used to represent (working with the developmentally disabled).  I worry that I can’t work for a little while and what that means for me.  I worry about what that means for clients like the ones I worked with.  I’m worried that by typing this he will mark me as some kind of terrorist.  He doesn’t take criticism very well, and he fired his own family.  His wife can’t stand him and he says creepy things about his daughters.  The man is paranoid and a bit insane.  I personally think he’s a psychopath.  He could take this country for everything we got, break us for his wallet, and flee.  And not care about the damage one bit.

I don’t want a president who doesn’t care.  Whose interests appear to be expanding a business empire on our dime.  He can walk away after and not give a damn about what happens to us.  Not feel bad.  Not feel anything.  He’s practically begging a crazy man to throw a nuke at us just so he can play general in a war.  He wants our country to be bombed.  It’s a game of dare only thousands of innocent people will be killed, and many more sick.  Of OUR people.  The people he’s been hired to care for and protect.  And he’s daring a man crazier then him to bomb us! He’s openly saying we are commodities.

I’m not expendable so a man who has never served any military position can play war with nuclear bombs.  Yeah, North Korea is bad.  But there are things we can do besides taunting him to throw a missile so we have a reason to invade.  How about just leaving him alone? If Trump wanted a war he can convince the UN to allow us to go in for crimes against humanity.  “Peace mission” or whatever you want to call it, you know, that’s a thing.  (Yeah, I know China is really the issue with that).  But he’d rather nuke his own people.  He WANTS the man to throw the nuke to bypass China.

And I wonder if that somehow makes him worse then the man he’s taunting.

Spicy

Well, now that….

Whatever that was.

Whew.

To my dear friend in the comments. You might find your comments aren’t there, and that’s ok. Actually, it was kinda a whoops.

Yeah, my blog is kinda boring. So, help? Actually, everyone. Where should I go? What would you like to see?

Let’s spice this up a bit….

Fear and Trembling

Faith is something so few have, and some barely know. Some are just wrong. Some manipulate.

Those who preach it say God tests us. But when do we test it? Can we say if you continue so will we. Or is it us that always must continue? Is it that it makes the game we play, and the rules? Do we get to spin them? Can we put our life in it’s decision?

Can we blame it if the decision is to give up? When we ourselves did? Or maybe faith lied, and relied on something never there. But in my breath I felt that not right. In my heartbeat I believed. My body betrayed my mind. So I can still say it is there.

If I am not forsaken can it save my life? I guess we will know soon.

If it doesn’t, don’t blame it. 

I am forsaken

It’s not real. It was never real. I renounce. I give up. I tried. There is no more I can do. I’m sorry I lead you to something that never existed. I gave you false hope. I gave you lies. 

No matter what, it’s my fault. At least no one else will ever admit their fault. They say things one day and forget. It’s a lie. So it’s my fault. It just is that way. I’ve learned to lie like the best. I diluded myself. 

It’s over.

Blase

I hate being up on a Saturday morning.  It’s as if I somehow revert to childhood.  I get to sleep in, but for some reason I’m awake, and the television only caters to the elderly or the young.  I guess I used to imagine, in my youth, that at one point the adult shows would be relevant to me on a Saturday morning.  Well, okay, they are… if you consider solving a murder, profiling a serial killer, or taking a stroll down Washington politics as a wonderful way of waking up.

I suppose there is the news.  But, really, with the Internet, 24/7 broadcasts, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, and the thousands of other apps and social connections out there I think I get enough news.  News gets thrown at you whether you want it or not.  I’m certainly not going to actively try to seek it.  Hmm, I wonder if I just predicted that news shows will not exist in the future.  No more “Nightly News” or “6:00” whatever.  Actually… is there still nightly news and 6:00 whatever???

Well, this started with me landing aimlessly on a channel that had cute little animals on it.  I’m fairly certain this show is catering to children.  I am watching an overgrown bearded man-boy play ice hockey with a grizzly bear in an attempt to teach me about polar bears.  Yeah, I fail to see the connection either.  But it’s the scene before that actually prompted this post.

Man-boy was in Alaska speaking to the Eskimos.  I guess since we are learning about polar bears we were focusing on their food source, which would be the whales.  And we had to drag this poor guy out on the, he’s not even pretending to be on the water, let’s face it.  He gets this Eskimo out there on his truck to show him how one heats his big metal pot on the truck bed (ahem) ground and steams some whale meat.  Man-boy talks about the whaling culture and how the ice caps used to float the bears around to pick up the scraps of the meat left behind from both Eskimos and industry alike.

Did you catch it? I didn’t at first.

Used to.

The ice caps used to be there.

They aren’t there anymore.

And, actually, I’m totally surprised that I did not know this.  Man-boy playing ice hockey with the wrong species of bear we are learning about just passed by it as quickly as I did.

I knew they were melting.  I didn’t know they were gone.

They aren’t there anymore.  They are a “was”.  A “used to be”.  And apparently so blase it barely gets a sentence before our man-boy pans to him in Canada playing hockey with a grizzly bear.

This is why I hate being up on Saturday mornings as an adult.  I can’t even look at something cute!