The Menendez Brothers

I recently watched the Law & Order Menendez Brothers treatment on TV.  This is a case that has fascinated me for years.  Two well-to-do brothers kill their parents in cold blood. I’m really conflicted about it.

Are they murderers?  Were they abused?  Did they really fear for their lives?  A picture perfect family.  Right?

Unfortunately, there is no good answer.  I think, like OJ, there has been too much publicity about all this.  Too many movies made, too much conjecture.

Unlike OJ, they did confess.  I almost wonder at what in the world they were thinking, after the murders, the way they acted and spent money on lavish lifestyles.  Did they think they were above the law?  Or smarter than the law?  Or did they just not think?

Everyone always looks to Erik as the weak one, the one that broke, that one that confessed.  I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him.  Lyle seemed to be made of sterner stuff.  But regardless, however much you hate your parents, can you picture yourself waltzing into the den with shotguns and murdering your parents?  It seems maybe there SHOULD have been another answer.  Someone that could have helped them, protected them.

As a frame of reference, I think back to OJ, I personally never doubted his guilt.  Never gave him an ounce of sympathy.  He was violent, he was abuser.  He murdered out of jealousy and rage.  I’m just glad he did end up going to jail eventually, albeit not for murder.

The Menendez brothers?  I think it was a rash decision, that went very wrong.  They were still fairly young, perhaps not mature enough to understand the full ramifications of their actions.

So.  The brothers go to jail for life.  OJ is a free man today.  The brothers killed out of fear.  OJ killed out of rage.  Maybe.

Advertisements

#MeToo

So many, so very many people have come out lately to say #MeToo, about being sexually harassed or abused.  Seems like they are coming out of the woodwork.

And it’s not just women.  It’s men too.  And it’s not just Hollywood.  While this latest movement may have been sparked by the Harvey Weinstein scandal, it has quickly spread to many areas of life, including the music industry, sciences, academia and of course, politics.  Let’s face it, this problem has existed forever.  It is only now, in this day and age of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat etc. that this kind of movement can go viral overnight.  It only took ONE BRAVE PERSON to bust this out of its shell, and grow into #MeToo.

To me, it boiled down to people in a position of power over me.  People that held your career in their hands, or your reputation, or simply your life.  I grew up in an era of respecting your elders and not questioning authority.  If someone straddled the line of impropriety, we figured that was the way it was.  If someone crossed the line, we were too scared to push them back.

Luckily for me, it was more a question of sexual harassment than of actual abuse.  I have been harassed by more than one superior.  Made to feel uncomfortable.  Made to feel I’d better toe the line.  Made to feel that my job was on the line.  In fact, I left a great job at a great company because of it, and regret it to this day.

Now, those of you that know me well know that I am not a shrinking violet and I will speak up, sometimes to my detriment, about most anything that bothers me.  But back in the day, fresh out of college, and onto the working world?  Not really.  I was afraid of authority.  I was intimidated by men of power.  There were very few women of power.  The glass ceiling was still very low.

Today, I would raze them a new asshole.  Today, I am a grumpy old lady with nothing left to lose.  But today, if I had a child, I would hope that I had instilled enough of moral compass in them that they would know when things where going south.  That they would speak up and protect themselves by any means necessary.  I applaud this new #MeToo movement, and hope that it exposes enough that people will think twice before abusing their next victim.  No more hiding behind “power”.

P.S.  I’ve just GOT to get on a soapbox about one thing.  Donald Trump, while on the campaign trail, was on tape BRAGGING about sexually harassing people, grabbing them by the pussy etc.  Billy Bush, the TV Reporter, who was just asking the questions, got fired and his career was ruined.  Donald Trump was elected President.  Trump has as many, if not more, allegations against him as Weinstein.  But he claims this is all fake news.  The POLITICIANS, Democrats and Republicans alike, need to keep throwing these allegations at him and hope they stick.  But I doubt that will ever happen.  Trump has too much power.  In his own words he could shoot someone and still be elected.  But I am heartened to see that more and more Republicans are leaving their elected offices like rats fleeing a sinking ship.  We can only hope.

 

Treated like so much chattel

Interesting word, chattel.  I wasn’t sure if it was the right word to use.  I’ve heard and read it bantered about.  I always pictured it as meaning someone herded along.

Per Merriam Webster Dictionary, here is what they say:

Definition of chattel

1:an item of tangible movable or immovable property except real estate and things (such as buildings) connected with real property

2:slavebondman 

  • slaveholders who were determined to hold on to their human chattel

Interesting.

Recently I experienced the unique opportunity to be treated like chattel.  I was going to Florida, and was trying to get the best flight for my condition (really bad back, like 4 herniated disks and 2 micro disectomies, repaired not once but twice over the spring and summer).  I guess I am still recuperating.  I have good days and bad days.

Flying in and out of O’Hare and Orlando or anywhere is a nightmare for someone like me, who can’t walk very far all at once.  A short jaunt, sure.  A long one?  Pack a lunch.

So for the past few trips, I fly “disabled”.  Meaning a wheelchair picks me up at check-in, and takes me to my gate.  A wheelchair picks me up at my destination and takes me to the pick-up area.  It also means skipping the long security lines, and wheelchairs have their own special check through.

The first time, I flew American both ways, to Ft. Lauderdale.  It was such a blessing.  The man at O’Hare insisting upon staying with me in the chair until it was boarding time, and then he wheeled me right up to the plane door.  He also stopped along the way to the gate for me to use the restroom, and also get a bottle of water and snack pack for the plane.  Obviously he got a good tip.

In Florida, a wheelchair was waiting for me when I got off the plane, and took me right out to cousin who was waiting curbside.  Perfect.  He got a good tip too.  Worth every penny, not having to struggle along, with a bad back and luggage etc.

Same great service from Ft. Lauderdale back to Chicago with American.

The second time I flew, to Tampa, I flew United out and American back.  There was no wheelchair waiting for me at United, and I had to walk a distance to get to the “wheelchair assistance” room.  Then I had to wait for someone to come get me.  They took a long time getting me through security.  As I was now running out of time, I didn’t dare ask them to stop along the way for anything, and just had them dump me out at the gate.  He got a fair tip.

Arriving in Tampa, more problems with United.  They didn’t have a wheelchair waiting for me off the plane.  I had to wait, and was upset because my friend was already there to pick me up.  Finally got moving and met up with my friend inside the terminal.  Eh.

Flying home on American, I wanted to kiss them right on the mouth.  Once again perfect service.  Always ready and waiting.

This last time I flew to Orlando, on United both ways.  I REALLY wanted to fly American, but the flight times weren’t as good.  So I crossed my fingers.

Flying out, a waiting game again.  Luckily I had anticipated this and left plenty of time before the flight.  I waved them off as soon as I got to the gate, and then walked myself and my luggage to the restroom and the kiosk to get my water and snack pack.

Again more waiting at the gate in Orlando.  My poor old Aunt and Uncle outside waiting and waiting for me.  But, eh, better than hurting myself walking all that way.

Now back to Chicago.  Oh good Lord.  Landing in Chicago, no wheelchair again.  Down the tunnel I walked and then I was told to go sit on one of those big cart like things you see people riding around on inside the airport.  The cart was full, and I was told to step up this high step and sit on the back bench seat.  My carry-on was thrown next to me.  The cart took off at full speed, and I almost fell sideways out of the cart.  One of the people told the driver to slow down, and he slammed the cart to a stop, walked back by me, buckled me into a seatbelt I hadn’t known was there, and then took off madcap again.  Along the way he dropped people off here and there.  I had told him to drop me off at the upper level doors for United.  He pulled up, pointed down a long hallway and said, go there and then take a right.  Really?  This was my handicapped wheelchair ride?  Treated like so much chattel?  This guy got zero tip.  Nada.  Zilch.

Now I understand how cattle feel.  Or slaves.  Or any other group of people that get herded around, taken who knows where, with no say in the matter.  Just pushed and shoved where they wanted to take you.  I seriously felt used and abused.  It wasn’t a good feeling.

I was a little mad/sad about the whole thing, but then got home and quickly forgot about it.  Until now, lol.  No, actually, I have been thinking about it, and I do think that United needs to hear from an unsatisfied customer like myself, and the exact reasons and circumstances that cause me to be an unsatisfied customer.  People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, not like so much chattel.

Knock Knock Knocking on my Door

Sometimes a knock at the door is a good thing.  Someone has come to visit!  Or it is the groceries!  Or a neighbor bringing tomatoes!

Sometimes a knock at the door is a scary thing.  Yesterday was Halloween. I didn’t have any trick or treaters last night, but I got home late after my infusion, and haven’t had any kids stop by in years. I had just gotten home and was in my bedroom changing when I heard this very loud and sharp rapping on my front door. My heart stuttered, and I gasped out loud, because the sound was so intrusive, especially to someone who lives alone.  My cats scattered, and I quickly locked myself in my bedroom and got my gun out of my safe, and stayed there shaking for like a half hour, because I was afraid to come out! I was thinking that little kids can’t knock that loud, maybe it was an adult with them, I sure hope it was a neighbor trick or treating!  We don’t have many kids in the neighborhood, and a lot of summer houses too, so I don’t even buy candy anymore.  My bedroom looked out at the back of my house, not the front, so I couldn’t look and see if anyone was there.

I do have a legit reason for being scared, but I thought the reason was no longer one to worry about.  I think the attack in NY yesterday made it come to the forefront again for me.

Because that is what it is all about.  I cannot go into details, but let’s just say that lone wolf terrorists that have been radicalized here are something I need to worry about.  And it happens more frequently, it seems.  Around the world, not just here, in the USA.

It really got me to thinking.  I am scared, yes.  But dammit, I am angry.  Angry that people like that even exist.  Angry that people die, and will continue die.  Angry that I have to make lifestyle changes.  Angry that I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with my heart thumping so loud, straining to hear the tiniest sound.  Was that a knock I heard?  A footstep?  Why did the cats wake up?  What are they hearing?

I have a gun. I only got it because the FBI told me to. (Again, I can’t go into details).  However, it only gives me a false sense of security.  I keep it locked up in a safe.  Most likely if someone broke into my house and wanted to kill me I would never have a chance to even get it.  That’s fine with me.  I don’t know if I could pull the trigger and kill someone anyway.  It’s a huge thing to do.  But I digress.

Over the winter something similar happened.  One night, very late, I was awakened by rapping on my door, very loud, insistently.  Never stopped.  Just kept knocking.  It took me a minute to get my bearings and get up out of my bed because of my bad back.  I stumbled down the hallway, eyes slit, and peeked around the corner to look at the front door.  There were flashing lights and spotlights shining everywhere.  I could not see who was knocking because of it.  But I could tell they were using a flashlight, or bat to knock.  I called out, “Who is it?”  They responded with “Police, open up immediately!”  I replied, “Why are you here, what do you want?”  They said they needed to talk to me and to open the door or they would break it down.  I was so scared.  Was it really the police?  I thought about going back to the bedroom to get my gun, but figured they would just shoot me if they saw a gun.  So I went down the stairs and opened the door.  They shone their big flashlights in my face, blinding me.  They asked me whose car was in my driveway.  I was confused at first, because I always park in the garage.  Then I remembered, I had told my neighbor that his friend who was living with them could park there.  So I told them that.  They asked me the name of the owner of the car.  I did not know.  By this time, I was shaking from fear and the cold, and crying.  They got a call on their radio then, and literally turned around and walked away without another word.

Now I was angry. My fight or flight adrenaline had now changed to fight. How dare they scare the shit out of an innocent citizen with no explanation or “sorry to wake you in the middle of the night”.  I am a single woman, living alone.  I slammed the front door shut, locked up, and then went upstairs to look out my big bay window.  There were squad cars at the house kitty corner from me, and police walking around yards etc.

I knew the grand kid of that homeowner was always in trouble.  In fact, at the time, I thought he was in jail, as per usual.  He was always getting caught doing something wrong. So I figured he was in trouble, again.

The next morning when I went out to go to work, the kid was outside, talking to some policeman or detective.  I glared at them, and the kid hollered over, “Sorry for the disturbance last night, I woke up last night to find somebody trying to steal my guns, can you believe that?”  I said, unbelievable, and then said to the policeman, I was very scared and upset last night, and the officers that were pounding on my door were very rude.  I have reasons that the Lake County Sheriff’s office is well aware of for being scared.  Obviously that was overlooked last night.

The policeman then apologized.   I went to work.  When I got home, I didn’t see the kid anymore.  In fact, I haven’t seen him in awhile.  I’m sure he stole those guns or something like that.  I hope he doesn’t come back.  And let me just say that typically the police/sheriffs/detectives/agents that I have had dealings with are the BEST.  So grateful to ALL our first responders.

Luckily the rest of my neighborhood is wonderful.  The people that live around me always look out for me.  They are very good to me.

Just don’t go knock knock knocking at my door!

 

 

Dancing with the Devil

Devils come in all shapes and sizes.  Some are easy to recognize.  Some are not, at first.  But they all show their true colors sooner or later.

In the case of this story, the devil showed his colors later in the relationship.

He was a boss.  My boss.  He owned his own company.  It made him very aggressive, narcissistic, and mean.  Very mean.

I will not mention his name, or the name of his company (altho if you really want to know, message me and I will tell you, as people should be aware to stay far away from him).  I will say that he was in a very customer service type business.  A landscape company.

He was very charming upfront, to get your business.  All white smiles and silver haired charm.  But as soon as you signed the dotted line, that all changed.  He lied and cheated you every chance he got.

You were an asshole.  Everyone was asshole, according to him.  Especially his landscape/construction crews.  They were F*ing Asshole Mexicans.  He treated them like animals.

The first year I worked there was like the honeymoon.  Praise, raises, Christmas trees, Christmas music, parties, bonuses.  When I went there to interview, I was smitten.  A very charming office in an old farmhouse, complete with two retrievers and a fireplace burning.  It was a fairy tale.  I could not believe how lucky I was to go to work every day, with nice people and surroundings, and a golden retriever to lay at my slippered feet at my desk.

But then.  His true personality slowly leaked out. It turned into the War of the Roses. I had plenty of warning signs.  He talked shit about previous employees all the time, they were all assholes, and he fired their asses.  Every single one.  Many of them.  Especially the admin employees, who warmed their hands at the fireplace.  They never lasted more than a few months or a year.  No wonder they gave me such a nice one year anniversary party.  I was one of their longest term employees!  There was another one, who I became close with.  He quickly brought me up to speed on the dealing of the devil.  So I was careful.  I watched, I listened.  And most importantly, I never talked back or stated my opinion, because he was always right. The only other long term employee?  My so-called assistant, who was his girlfriend.  Actually more than his girlfriend.  She had a million dollar stake in the company, her previous divorce payoff.  If she didn’t like you, you were a goner.  I digress.

But then.  One day I just couldn’t do it anymore.  He wanted me to agree with him on something.  One of his f*cking asshole Mexicans, a long term employee, had asked for a 10 cent raise.  TEN CENTS.  Now, mind you, he worked these these poor people into the ground.  12-14 hour days in the hot sun of the summer, 24-48 hour days snowplowing non-stop in the winter, or shoveling driveways.  Have you EVER shoveled driveways for 24 hours straight?  They were lucky to get a half hour break.  Most had no food or water with them, the crews were not allowed to stop and buy food.  The Superindent, my friend, would swing by with nourishment and drink that he bought out of his own pocket for the crews.

Back to the poor guy who asked for a 10 cent raise.  The boss fired his ass.  On the spot.  F*ck him, asking for a raise.  He wanted me to agree with him.  I just couldn’t.  I struggled for a response.  So I asked him the one question that had been burning in my mind for the past year….

Why do you own a landscape company if you hate Mexicans?  (Doesn’t have to be Mexicans, you can substitute any other group of people).  They are the backbone of the company!  Without them, there is nothing.

Well.  That was it.  He started ranting and raving at me and throwing things around the office, while I cowered at my desk.  He was so enraged he was spitting in my face.  I thought (maybe prayed) he was going to have a heart attack or stroke in front of me.  He did not stop until his girlfriend called him off, like a rabid dog.  I just sat there like a statue.  I was too frightened to move.  I should have called 911, I should have left, I should have done a million things.  I did nothing.  I just sat there and took it

So then.  The abuse continued.  Ever. Single. Day.  I would come in to find hate email, hate notes on my desk.  Then his tirade, which would leave me sobbing, and then I would have to try and work the whole day with red swollen eyes and a huge headache like nothing was wrong.

The girlfriend turned on me pretty quick.  She quit talking to me.  She ignored me except to send me drunk text messages at night or on the weekends asking why I stayed there.

So then.  No more praise.  No more raises.  No more fires in the fireplace.  No more retriever at my feet, they were leased to the girlfriend’s desk.  (I kid you not).

So then.  At Christmas, there was no music, no tree.  Nothing.  So I brought in a small table top tree and plugged it in.  The next morning the tree was moved.  I found it and plugged it in again, this time in a different spot, with an extension cord.  The next day, the extension cord was gone.  I was so stupid that I did not realize what was going on at first.  This man did NOT want any sign of Christmas in his office.  So I took the tree and shoved it into the kitchen garbage to make sure he saw it.

So then.  There was no year-end bonus.  No Merry Christmas, Happy New Year.  Nothing.  Just an awfulness I cannot begin to describe.  An evilness.

So then.  He fired the Maintenance Manager.  Because he had the nerve to drive in early every day and nap in the parking lot until one hour BEFORE his start time.  F*cking Asshole, he should have been working the SECOND he arrived.  Mind you, he was salaried, and already worked a 60 hour work week.  And he was a new father.  Hence the naps in the parking lot.  But, he was a f*ucking asshole, he had to go.  It was awful.  I locked myself in the bathroom, crying, listening to him crying while packing up his desk.  His wife had quit her job, they had no other source of income.

I should have quit.  I was desperately seeking a new job, but I just should have quit and starved to death rather than work for this monster.

Eventually I did quit working for him.  Wait, I’m sorry, I was fired.  Because he came back from a hunting trip and I was leaving work 15 minutes “early” for a dentist appointment.  He started shouting at me and verbally abusing me in the doorway.  I was frightened.  There was no one else there at work, I was the last one in the office, as always.  So I ran.  I ran away from him, into my car, with him chasing me and shouting at me.  I sped away as quick as possible.  My cell phone rang.  I did not answer it.  Minutes later he texted me, telling me I was fired and not allowed on the property.  I cried all night.  But then I was relieved.  I did not have to look in his face, ever again, and see the evilness there.  I still have nightmares every now and then.

And this, my friend, is how you know you are dancing with the devil.

 

G.I. Joe drama, new developments

Joe

Here’s G.I. Joe, with his angel wings.  After his death.  After his nationwide funeral.  After the many fundraisers for his grieving family.  After an entire community searched for days for your killers, in the stifling heat, that dropped dogs and officers alike, all intent upon finding those 3 mysterious men.

I did not personally know Joe or his family, but I was devastated, along with everyone else in the area.  People stood for hours and hours in the hot sun to salute his funeral procession.

To me, things just didn’t add up from the get go.  My best friend and I talked about it daily.  We both agreed something fishy was going on.  I remember VIVIDLY when Melanie, the wife, made her speech on TV the day after his death.  She made some remarks which didn’t make sense to me at the time, but now they do.  She made a POINT of telling everybody that after Joe’s day was over and all his good deeds were done, he came home  to HER.  Like she was telling somebody he was HER property.  As it turns out, he shared himself with another woman.  You all heard the stories.  But I digress.

I did some searches on Joe, saw pictures, videos.  I don’t know why, but I wasn’t buying into the whole savior persona that G.I. Joe was.  He looked mean and tough and military, with the high and tight haircut, the tattoos, the smoking, the workouts.  But not like hero military.  Like he was a mercenary.  Like he walked around like his shit didn’t stink.  Like he could do whatever he wanted.  And he did.  He must have had a lot of blackmail shit on his former boss, is all I can say.

But, I still thought it was a damn shame, that another police officer was killed.  My personal opinion didn’t matter.

As time went on, people became impatient.  As time went on, more and more insidious rumors were started.  As time went on, the worst scenario came to pass.

Joe was not a hero.  Joe was anything but.  Joe was a fraud, who used and abused his position and authority to the max.  Joe was a text book narcissist.  Joe was going to get caught.  Joe took the coward’s way out.  Joe took his own life.  Joe let his family down, and holding the proverbial bag.

Today, Melanie Glinewiecz was indicted on fraud charges.  She turned herself in, was out on bail shortly thereafter.  Bail money that probably came from a donation or fund raiser.  To my knowledge, Melanie never gave any of the money back.  If fact, when her funds were frozen, she went to court to get it back.  No remorse there.

And if anybody is thinking that Joe was innocent, well, his wife pretty much threw him under the bus today.  Her attorney put out the following statement “Melodie is a victim of her husband’s secret actions and looks forward to her day in Court to show the world her innocence”.

Not her fault.  All her husband’s fault.  No matter all the text messages that show her complicity, along with the military son, who buried his father while in full military uniform.  God that just rags on me.

Anyway.  I feel bad, I do.  I feel bad for the younger kids who most likely knew nothing, and now will forever be tainted with scandal from both their father, and now mother.  I also think the military son will be brought up on charges, either by the military or the police.  He was also in cahoots and borrowed money that wasn’t his.

After being in the spotlight, now Fox Lake just wants to get back to being a nice small town in the Midwest.

 

 

Hey you. Mr. Droopy Drawers.

sag1I can’t believe this trend continues.  It is so wrong on so many levels, lol.  Let me count the ways.

  1.  You look dumb ass stupid.
  2.  You look ready for a prison “adventure”
  3.  You look like you can’t walk
  4. You look dumb ass stupid

This is not just a gangsta phenomena.  There are plenty of white boys trying to be tough guys too.

sag2Here is Justin Bieber.  Before all his tats.  So, if A=B, and B=C, then A=C.  Saggy pants lead to tattoos.  Naw, just kidding.  Or am I…….

Anyway, I never have understood this trend.  Although I favor the origins theory of the saggy pants being a signal to the other inmates that you are “available”, (also known as jailin’, or PBS (Prison Bitch Syndrome), the reality is that there are droopy drawers in prison due to oversize pants and no belts allowed, least the wearer be found swinging from them.  Regardless, they look stupid.

Rappers were the original saggers.  Remember Totally Krossed Out?  They took droopy drawers one step further, and wore them backwards.  What a concept!

Ok, so people can do whatever they want, for the most part.  But for the love of all that is holy, PULL YOUR PANTS UP!

sag3

 

 

Don’t make me wait too long

wait2I try to have patience. I really do.  But DAMNIT!  These waits between TV and movies series are way. too. long.

Example.  So you read a series of books.  Let say Twilight.  Or Hunger Games.  The first movie comes out, and everyone is in a frenzy to see it.  Then you wait.  A year if you are lucky.  Usually a year and a half.  Gah.  By then, your frenzy has cooled.  You barely remember what all the fuss was above.  In fact, by the last movie, the attendance number drop way off.

I first noticed this phenomenon with the TV show Nip/Tuck.  Fantastic series.  At first.  The first few seasons were unbelievably good.  So good you couldn’t WAIT to see the next!  Then they started making you wait longer and longer in between seasons.  Until the inevitable happened.  1).  You stopped caring.  2).  The shows just weren’t that good anymore.  3).  You stopped watching.

wait3

Now I see it with the cable shows, like Game of Thrones.  Geez.  I know Winter is Coming, but Hell will freeze over before this show starts again!  Outlander is starting to piss me off too.  Crikey I read the whole dang series of books after the first season, which was no easy feat, considering it was 8 books of almost 1,000 pages each, and I’m StILL waiting for the 2nd season to start!  I did that with Game of Thrones too.  If I can make the herculean effort, why can’t they?

Oh, and now the popular thing to do with a popular show is to air HALF a season, and then the other HALF like 6 months later.  Really?  Get us hooked and breathless, and then make us wait AGAIN!  I think Walking Dead does that.  I think pretty soon I may get tired of zombies.  And that will be a shame.  I love zombies!

Whatever happened to having a full complement of shows that aired most of the year and then took a summer hiatus?

Wait, I know!  They spend as much money to produce them as a full action movie, so they can’t AFFORD as many episodes!  While I admire the beautiful scenery and venues that they use, wouldn’t it be more affordable to shoot back to back seasons?  Or movies?  Like Survivor does!  They stay at the same location now to shoot two seasons.  Makes sense, financially.  Also, can’t they do something with all the standing around that is prominent in filming?  Can’t they get their lighting/sound etc done faster?  In this day and age of high tech, I find it ridiculous.  But, I know nothing.  Just like Jon Snow.

Speaking of which, how much longer do I have to wait until I find out if he is dead?  April?  Crikey.  Pretty soon, I just won’t care anymore.wait1

Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it is THEM.

shoutAre you sick and tired of always being wrong?  Always being shouted at.  Always told to shut up.  Always the one that has to crawl home and lick her wounds.  Always the one that has to apologize.  Always the one that gets kicked to the side.  Always the “crazy” one.

But, but, but……maybe you’re not.  Maybe they are just not listening to you.  Maybe they don’t hear you.  Maybe they choose NOT to hear you.  Maybe you keep talking because no one lets you finish. Maybe they know you are right.  At least sometimes.  Maybe they don’t want to hear the truth.  Maybe they don’t like your tone of voice.  Maybe they don’t like your delivery.  Maybe THEY are the crazy one.

But, but, but….maybe you deserve to be heard.  Maybe you deserve to say your piece.  Maybe you are trying to help.  Maybe you are right.  Maybe you are wrong.  Maybe they just don’t know.  Maybe you just don’t know.

Whatever it is, right, wrong or indifferent, it all comes down to treating people with respect, and not shouting and screaming at them all the time.  And maybe, just maybe, THEY should apologize.

Because maybe you are done with the crazy.  Done with the crying.  Done with always being wrong.

Because you are not.

I believe in you.

Look me in the eye

gu

Wake up feeling depressed?  Grab your gun and go pick off a few students.

Wake up feeling hopeless?  Grab your gun and go pick off a few students.

Wake up feeling lonely?  Grab your gun and go pick off a few students.

Wake up feeling unloved?  Grab your gun and go pick off a few students.

You see where I’m going here, right?

Since when has it become the norm to take your feelings out on other people?

Since when has it become almost a weekly occurrence to have a shooting?

Since when has so many people gone undetected for mental illness?

Since when do people have such a disregard for other’s lives?

Lives matter.  All lives.  Even the disturbed ones.  Especially the disturbed ones.

I find it hard to believe that a good kid can go bad overnight and decide to go on a rampage and kill other people, and then usually himself.

I find it hard to believe that parents would have no clue.

I find it hard to believe that friends would have no clue.

I find it hard to believe that neighbors would have no clue.

I find it hard to believe that teachers would have no clue.

People have committed suicide since the beginning of time.

Now they committed homicide/suicide.

How did this happen?  How did it become a “group” event instead of solitary event?

Has life itself become so unbearable that this is the only option for these people?

People have debates about guns.  People pass bills for gun control.  People put guards up.  People have extra security.

Guns are just a tool.  We could be talking about knives or any other weapon that can harm a person.  Guns are just the most efficient killing machines to use in a crowd for one person to cause devastation while looking in the eyes of their victims.  Watching them die.  Bombs etc. are too impersonal.  People themselves are very impressive killing machines.  Top of the food chain.  Top of all chains.

People should start worrying about PEOPLE instead of guns.  People should start talking to people.  Not texting.  Not calling.  Talking.  Face to face.

Families should spend time together.  Parents should be connected to what their kids need. Kids need time and attention.  Money can’t buy love.  Kids need to learn HOW to become good people.  How to deal with their problems constructively.  If a kid doesn’t have any friends, why?  If a kid is doing bad in school, why?  If an adult is having personality problems, why?  If an adult is doing bad at work, why?  If someone is a loner, and spends their time writing manifestos or other diatribes, someone should know.  Especially a parent.  In this day and age of technology, it is too easy to hide behind a computer or phone.  Parents need to monitor what their kids are doing online and on social media.  High tech is not necessarily a good thing for the human race.

People need to start reconnected with people on a personal level.  All this mass killing is a cry for help.  A BIG cry.  We need to start listening.