Opinions – Tipsy Typer

Love in a Time of Hate

“This will always be the land of the free, so long as it is the home of the brave.”

-Elmer Davis

I don’t know when our differences became bricks we used to wall ourselves in and close ourselves off from one another. I don’t know when we decided that we must scream to be heard in a world that is already far too loud. I don’t know when belittling another’s opinion made us feel more emboldened with our own. I have no idea when we decided that the world had to be seen in black and white, right and wrong; without the shades of gray I’ve always so dearly loved. We drew a line and determined that everyone must take a step, make a stand, choose a side. And then grab a stone to hurl towards the other crowd. All while forgetting that we know so many faces over there. If we demonize them and their ideals, then we can forget the people underneath. We seem to forget that this country of ours is not a comic book- we do not have heroes and villains. We have people. Perfectly flawed people with beautifully varied colors that shade our background and our perspectives. When did we decide that we had to prove the other side wrong to believe in our hearts that we are right? When did we determine that there had to be a wrong answer?

Because tonight, I am exhausted. I am disheartened, I am frustrated. The worst part of this whole mess: we did this. We are still doing this. We want to point the finger at someone, we want to cast blame and doubt, we want to force the other side to concede when they feel just as righteous as we do. We are chasing each other around in circles and we don’t even recognize that the hate we are pointing out in them is also being mirrored in ourselves.

I don’t care who you voted for, just as you don’t care which box I checked on that piece of paper. It doesn’t matter. No lines need to be drawn on my sand, there is no tallied score. We do not need to tear one another down to build ourselves up. We do not need to search the darkest corners of the other’s camp, and hold their worst up into the light as a glaring example of what is wrong with them and their opinions. Because these dark corners- they do not make up the whole of our respective camps. You can not paint millions of people with one brush. Those shadows- they are only a small percentage, they do not define the group.

I am not a democrat. I am not a republican. I am not a conservative. I am not a liberal. I do not wear a label like a name tag. My views land all over that beautiful board we call democracy. What happened to us? How long have we required a title; locking someone up in a box with a small description of the contents- we do not belong in a zoo. ‘Over here you will see the moral fallacies of the Republican Party, and if you take a left at the Statue of Liberty you will behold the dark lair of the Democrat and their misguided ideology.’ No. This is not us. This is not the country that I have always loved, this is not the country that I was raised to believe in.

Not every person who voted for Trump is a racist. They do not all hate the LGBT community. They do not all feel that women are objects to be used and thrown away. Just the same way that not every person who voted for Clinton is corrupt, on a witch hunt for your guns, or a ‘libtard crybaby,’ if I have my terminology correct. Yes, there are some that fall into these categories, but I do not believe that they are the majority. If anyone would take just a moment to stop and actually listen to someone of the opposing opinion without interrupting to explain why their views are better- then maybe they would come to this same conclusion. The point that I am trying to make is that, if you speak to people on either side of the line, you will realize that both have a deep misunderstanding of what is important to those opposing them. It is fueled by fear and misinformation. We need to stop assigning labels to people and inferring their beliefs and opinions based on these snap judgments. We do not belong in boxes. We do not need to drag others through the mud in order to bring more credence to our own beliefs.

Wasn’t that the beauty of this country? We were a haven for those who didn’t belong, those who were persecuted for their beliefs, for their views, for their way of life. We spilled our blood to defend our right to maintain our own opinions without fear. And here we are- destroying each other and everything that we hold dear.

There is a difference between maintaining your views and being respectful of another’s. We are not monsters here, none of us are. And if we took away the labels, perhaps we would begin to realize that our views really aren’t that far apart. Perhaps we would begin to see the path that needs to be followed. Perhaps we would find our compassion again and rediscover the beauty that we used to see in one another long enough to listen- truly listen- with an open mind, without pre-recorded objections and insults to shoot out randomly like poisoned barbs.

We are scared of one another- in a country that prides itself on bravery, we are terrified. Is that it- is that the crux of our anger? Because we don’t know what will happen and we don’t recognize the world that we’ve always lived in. We lost our compassion. I believe that we have a responsibility to one another. We have to look out for each other. We have to protect one another and our rights.

I will admit that I am afraid for us, for my friends, for the values that I stand for; but I am not alone. So to those of you who are in fear because of the color of your skin, your nationality, your religion, your gender, your sexual orientation- for those of you who feel exposed and unprotected in a world that suddenly feels so cold- I stand with you. I stand for you. I will not watch from a distance as you are screamed at, pushed, threatened or hurt. I will fight for you with every fiber of my being. Because I believe in you. I believe in your rights. I believe that you make us better, stronger, more compassionate. I believe that you bring light to a dark part of our society. In a world where you feel like your voice is being lost, I will listen. And to those of you who are afraid for your right to free speech, religion, the right to bear arms- I will protect you. I will not stand idly by if you are unjustly called a racist, a sexist, a homophobe, a xenophobe. I will defend you when you are in fear of retaliation for ideals that you personally do not hold. Whether your belief systems align with mine or not- I will not let someone harm you. Because I believe in peace, I believe in leading by example. I believe in treating others as I wish to be treated. I believe that we are responsible for creating the world that we wish to live in.

In Portland yesterday there was a protest that devolved into a riot. It made international news- there was damage, and as I drove by the city today I could not miss the signs of hate left behind. But what you probably didn’t hear about are the volunteers who got up early today to clean up their city. They did not go to the protest, though many of them supported the protestors. They were not responsible for the damage. But they did not want to see their city hurt or torn apart by hate. So they cleaned, they painted, they erased the harm and brought back the beauty. The peaceful protestors that started the event did not condone the violence that erupted. And yet, though they did not personally resort to violence themselves, they still chose to raise money to pay for the damages. They raised $10,000 in one day. They took responsibility for the world they wanted to live in. These are not things that you will probably hear reported in the news. But these are the people that we must emulate- these are the one who responded to hate with love. They do not question who is right or who is worthy of their respect. They do not cast blame for what has happened. They simply want to see their community thrive. This is what we need. We need to protect each other. We need to respect each other. And we need to remember that our differences are the very things that make us so formidable. United we stand, divided we fall. I do not have to agree with you to respect you.

No more hate. Our candidates have dropped their stones, the mud has stopped flying. That does not mean that we need to pick them up and continue this bitter war. We must stay vigilant; we must still protect our ideals. But we do not have to destroy each other in the process. We are past the point of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ No, now we must come together. The time for fighting is gone, the dice was cast and we have a future to work on. Now we need to look forward and have an open discussion. We have come too far to fall apart now. We are worth too much to destroy ourselves.

Shrodinger’s Election (it’s almost over)

I didn’t think this election season would ever end, but alas, here we are on that illustrious Tuesday that will determine the road we will take from here. Now, don’t worry, I’m not about to start pelting you with my political opinions and assail you with how ours might not align perfectly. We are all entitled to our individual opinions, and while we might be strongly opposed, we must respect one another’s right to maintain their respective stance.

I believe tonight’s election will be telling, though I am fearful. Partially fearful for the results, but more so for the reactions to these results. I have never seen our country as divided and charged as we were this year, and I will openly admit that I am worried how some will respond if their candidate is not chosen. After an election season that consisted of more mud slinging than general debate and more debasement than productive conversation, I can only hope that we will take these lessons we have learned and use them to better ourselves. It’s no secret that this election has been a royal mess- one played out on an international level. However, in spite of all of the name-calling and general embarrassment, one thing has happened: people have been forced to start those difficult conversations we have been avoiding. And while we might not like everything that has been said, it is a genuine step forward that the words have been spoken at all. Now we must take this momentum and use it to move forward. We must remember our compassion and find our respect again. We must remind ourselves that we have to come together if we ever want to make progress. We must remember that there is a time to speak and a time to listen.

No matter the outcome, I can only hope that we have learned something that will serve us well in the future. This is our country, these are our responsibilities. Cheers, my friends, may we find peace and progress in the coming months. (I know- a girl can dream).

The Fears of a Woman

I was raised to be a strong woman. I was taught to demand respect, to be soft when compassion was needed, to be tough when circumstances called for it, to stand my ground when the world wanted to push me around. I was raised to believe that I could do or be anything. So when did it become okay for faceless individuals to decide that what I had to offer the world amounted to no more than boobs, an ass and a pussy? That sounded a bit crude for my usual work, didn’t it? Yea, that’s what I thought too. And yet that is the world that we live in. A place where I am judged by the body parts that I possess and what I am willing to do with them.

My daddy never taught me that boys would be boys and could say whatever they wanted about me as they passed me in the street. My older brothers never shrugged their shoulders at the prospect of a man following me down the sidewalk making lewd comments. My fiancé never mentioned that it should be viewed as a compliment for a man to catcall me or reach out and grab my butt on the street because it meant that I was desirable. No, these were not things that I was ever taught. And yet they are the excuses so easily given and readily accepted. I don’t have daughters, but I have nieces. I have a mother, I have aunts, I have a sister. These rationalizations are not okay, and yet we shrug our shoulders and say boys will be boys. I don’t mean to overgeneralize, I know the vast majority of men don’t fall into this category- the men I am close to in my life- they respect women. So where did this idea come from that this behavior was acceptable?

A comedian once asked a sold out auditorium how many of the women had been sent a picture of a man’s penis on their phone- virtually every hand rose. If you pick ten random women on the street and ask them if they have ever been sexually assaulted or felt in fear because of the aggressive overtures coming from certain members of the opposite sex, I can guarantee you will have almost a unanimous yes. Every two minutes another person in America is sexually assaulted. In the amount of time it takes you to read this- how many people have been hurt, have been scared, have had the fabric of their lives forever altered? One out of every six American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape, and nine out of every ten victims of rape are female.

I work in the court system, and one aspect of my job includes a process known as voir dire, although most refer to it simply as jury selection. During this process a group of random people from the community are gathered together in an open courtroom to answer very personal questions pertaining to the subject of the case that we happen to be hearing that day to determine if they can be impartial. We handle a lot of sex cases, and as such, we have to ask these random strangers to voice their own histories. The court or counsel will ask the question ‘Have you or someone you are close to been a victim of sexual assault?’ I was shocked the first time I saw so many hands raise, and even more disheartened when I heard how many people raised their hands for themselves. And then the next question, ‘How many were reported’- it was like a tidal wave of fingers falling from the sky, leaving a solemn few raised alone.

Is this the world that we want to raise our daughters in? Are these the lessons that we wish to impart on our sons? The justifications of what we call social norms have a profound effect on our younger generations and what they will deem to be acceptable. Most young women believe that sexual assault is common, that catcalls and booty-grabbing in the halls of the high school are normal; and sadly, they are right- but that doesn’t mean that they should be. During a 2014 study, sociologist Heather Hlavka questioned young women regarding their views on sexual harassment and assault. One young woman’s answer speaks a terribly revealing truth, “They grab you, touch your butt and try to, like, touch you in the front, and run away, but it’s okay, I mean … I never think it’s a big thing because they do it to everyone.” These same young women were also very candid about the fact that they probably wouldn’t report any such events, believing that they would be ‘making a big deal out of nothing,’ many didn’t even view it as assault until it crossed that threshold into the realm of rape. When asked why they wouldn’t report it, they stated that they were concerned that they would be labeled as whores, sluts, or be accused of lying and exaggerating. Their silence, our silence, speaks volumes.

The majority of sexual assault victims are under 30 years of age. Females between the ages of 16 to 24 are four times more likely to be the victims of rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault than the general population, the statistics for those enrolled in college drop only minimally- to a mere three times more likely. This was when it happened to me. And I know that I am not the only one carrying the burden of an untold story. In fact, it is estimated that out of every 1,000 sexual assaults, only about 344 are actually reported to the police. How many of your friends, coworkers, or family members have one of these experiences that they simply haven’t told you?

All too often the finger gets pointed at the wrong person. It becomes a matter of what the victim did to incite the behavior- as if men are mere animals with no sense of self-control. People assume she must have been flirting, dressed provocatively, over imbibing in alcohol- a million different justifications, as if they excuse the transgression, as if she was asking for it. When I finally told someone about my assault, the response that I received was ‘well, now you know how to not get yourself into that situation again,’ as if it were my actions that forced his hand. When my friend finally found the strength to tell a police office what happened to her, the response that she received was ‘good luck with that.’ My friends, victims of assault find enough reason to blame themselves- and is it any wonder? When we are told that our actions are the cause. Last time I checked, no still meant no, and my body was still mine to decide what to do with. No one has the right to take those decisions from you.

I keep hearing that women objectify themselves; as if dancing provocatively, wearing a crop top and short-shorts or reading a smutty romance novel suddenly invalidates a woman’s right to choose what happens to her body. Try reversing this picture: if a man chooses to wear skinnier jeans that show off his assets- I don’t go up and pinch his butt or grab him from the front. If a man opts to watch porn, that doesn’t give me the right to run in and jump on top of him. So how are these examples any different when viewed from the perspective of a woman?

Someone I know recently posted a comparison to a very controversial book relating to some of the political conversations surrounding this topic:

But you see, there is an inherent flaw in this reasoning. My issues with the statements that he made have nothing to do with the ‘naughty words’ that were said. My issue was the intent of those words- it was in the insinuation that a rich man can grab a woman’s intimate parts and that it is okay, hell, that it is desirable. To me that is a far cry from reading a risqué book about the fetishes of two consenting adults. It is the fact that a grown man believes that this is an appropriate way to talk about women- regardless of whether he is in the presence of only men or not. To compare the two is an attempt to minimize the true intent of the statement and to ignore the truly insidious problem we face as a society.

Most men are good men, this I believe. But that doesn’t change the fact that a large portion of the female population will wind up on the wrong side of this equation at some point in their lives. We have cultivated a sense of rape culture by normalizing behaviors that should not be shrugged away. No more ‘boys will be boys’- they know better. We can teach them better. And no more girls blaming one another or themselves for decisions they were not given the opportunity to make. No more calling names likes slut or whore, no more raised eyebrows as we ask what she could have done to avoid the situation. Our bodies are our own, and until that basic human right is given the respect that it deserves, this battle will continue. I don’t know about you, but I am terrified to have my little nieces grow up in a world where they will have these same fears that I had. I am enraged by the fact that so many of my friends and family have a painful history that echoes my own. We are sisters in our suffering. And it is not acceptable.

How many minutes have you been reading this? How many more people have been hurt? While it is true, that the numbers of sexual assaults have been slowly declining over the decades, that does not mean that the problem no longer exists. These are conversations that must be had, stories that must be brought out into the light, experiences that need to be understood to be stopped. This is not a complicated right to be requesting. What do I want? I want to know that I can walk into a bar with my friends without someone reaching out for a touch, that I can go for a jog in my own neighborhood without clutching a can of mace and keeping one earbud out to hear approaching footsteps. I want to know that my sister can walk down the street without fear from the man that started catcalling her and moved in her direction. I want to know that my nieces will be able to walk down the halls of their high school without being touched or put in fear. I want to be able to go out and dance or read a smutty novel without someone acting like that means I have given away my rights to simple decency. I want to be treated like the lady that I am, the ladies that we all are, not an object to be yelled at, taunted, touched or used. That is the world that I want to raise a daughter in. That is the way I wish to raise a son.

This World Will Not Change Me

I am not a hero. I have never run into a burning building or set a broken bone. I have never knowingly charged into danger knowing that I might not make it home when all was said and done. No, I am not a hero. But I was raised by one, though he would never call himself that. My dad is my hero, he is my example on how to live. My dad has run into burning buildings, he has whisked people to safety, he has helped them die as peacefully as possible when there was nothing left to do, he has searched through rubble for the telltale hint of a human soul. My dad has run into danger knowing he might not make it home. He has been hurt, he has been broken, but he has never stopped getting back up and doing it all over again. Because it was the right thing to do, because it was something that he could do. When I was little, I didn’t think much of it; it was just a fact of our lives- other people’s dads went to office buildings wearing suits, my dad charged into burning houses wearing a rather different dress code. I remember special goodnight kisses before shifts, going to visit at the station houses, camping trips with his ‘work family.’ Looking back now, I see the truth hidden behind the smiles, I see the pain and the reward that being the hero can bring. There is not only glory to be found, there is so much more buried below the surface if you only take the time to look.

On April 19, 1995 evil struck in an unimaginable way with the Oklahoma City Bombing. I had just turned six, but I still remember the footage of the building, only a portion still eerily standing. When the call rang out for help, my dad answered it. He flew out with his search and rescue team to assist in whatever way he could. He was never one to stand back and watch, he always had to help.

This is my dad during the search and rescue after the Oklahoma City Bombing:

The second picture where he is sitting on a bucket was a shot taken and used in Garth Brook’s 1995 music video ‘The Change,’ which doubled as a tribute to the victims and rescuers of Oklahoma City. If you ever feel the desire to watch, you can view the original video here: Garth Brooks ‘The Change’ original music video.

When I was a little girl I was so proud of this video- that was my dad! I would pop in the VHS tape and watch it over and over, just to see him right here. Today I found the video again- having a deep yearning to hear this song once more. And when I reached the scene I knew so well, this image hit me like a truck, making it hard to breath. For the first time I saw what it really portrayed. Pain. He never talked much about what happened there, we would get some stories as we got older, but it was nothing like seeing him in that moment of raw heartache and disbelief as the world was falling apart around him. I know they were there primarily as recovery- they flew in after many of the survivors were already rescued. Their mission was to help give peace to the families who lost so much that day, by allowing them to bury those they loved. And it took its toll on all of them. Seeing the devastation of so much hate will do that- it is a side of humanity that no one is ever ready to face. For the first time I saw how much my dad sacrificed to help others.

And then I came across this- a picture he took and kept from that time.

It’s just a simple sign. But it was powerful. It was a reminder, it was a promise- it was an embodiment of all that we are. When we have no other choice, we find out what we are made of inside, and it is usually so much more than we would have ever anticipated. Through our pain we find strength in one another, we find hope in a lost world.

“The Change”
By: Garth Brooks

One hand
Reaches out
And pulls a lost soul from harm
While a thousand more go unspoken for
They say what good have you done
By saving just this one
It’s like whispering a prayer
In the fury of a stormAnd I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
But it’s not the world that I am changing
I do this so this world will know
That it will not change me

This heart
Still believes
The love and mercy still exist
While all the hatred rage and so many say
That love is all but pointless in madness such as this
It’s like trying to stop a fire
With the moisture from a kiss

And I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
But it’s not the world that I am changing
I do this so this world will know
That it will not change me

As long as one heart still holds on
Then hope is never really gone

I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
But it’s not the world that I am changing
I do this so this world we know
Never changes me

What I do is so
This world will know
That it will not change me

Today I haven’t been able to get this song out of my head, I keep coming back to the same thing, the words are burning through my veins. I wish I could do more. I wish I had more to give. I am not a firefighter, a nurse, a doctor, a police officer, a soldier- there are so many things that I am not. I am just a girl, just one solitary girl who finds her power with the written word. Some days it seems that is all that I have to give. And in a world that seems to be shattering right before my eyes- I have to ask myself if that is really enough?

Words feel so small in the face of so much pain and anger. But it is all that I have. I would like to think that I would step forward if the opportunity were thrust upon me, that in the heat of a moment I would make the selfless choice, I would do what my dad has always taught me. As the song says, “I do this so the world will know that it cannot change me.” Perhaps the most powerful thing that we can do is prove to the world that it will not make us jaded, it will not stop us from caring, it will not smother the flame of humanity we all started this life with. This world will never be able to create so much fear in my heart that I stop trying to help. If I find myself forever mired in these struggles, facing the choice of giving more of myself than I think I can bear to lose- I would still fight. The darkness of this world will never change me. I will always try live by my dad’s example. I will always try to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. I will always try to be a welcoming smile in a world full of bitter anger. I will always try to be a voice of reason in the screaming crowd. I will always fight- even if it means using the only power I possess- my words. I have spent enough of my life idly standing by. I will not be afraid. I will not be bitter or jaded or angry. I will not be changed.

We let fear rule us all too often, we allow the anger to twist our thoughts into venom that we thrust upon others. We turn our backs because there is so much that we can’t process yet, we think that this world will never change. Fear breeds helplessness, which in turn feeds anger. We create our own vicious cycles by giving into the temptation that is giving up. We turn our backs and wonder where all the heroes have gone, we never stop to look down and recognize ourselves for what we could be. You don’t have to change the world, you simply have to hold your ground and not let it change you.

The news is full of stories and speeches touting hate and segregation. We are afraid of one another because we refuse to open our eyes and search for the truth beyond what the reporters and politicians are telling us. We refuse to discuss the true issues. Our own ignorance will destroy us. People speak of building walls and closing borders, all the while forgetting that the majority of our disasters are home-grown. We forget that these people we are turning our backs on- they are really no different than us. It seems we forgot that age-old rule to treat others as we wish to be treated. My four year old nephew understands this concept, but many of the adults that I know have let it slip away. We have the power to change this, but we would rather blame everyone else. We listen to the fear mongering that has inundated our media- forgetting that they simply want a story they can sell. We listen to the voices that are screaming the loudest without focusing on what they actually have to say.

I refuse to give into the darkness that we have cast ourselves in. I refuse to turn away from someone who needs my help because I am afraid. If enough of us decide to be brave, we can banish any monster. I refuse to let this world change me. I will be soft, I will be kind, I will not scream, but I will not stop speaking. Because my voice is all that I have. Perhaps it is all that I need. I know that we are capable of so much more, I have seen it. Every hero must pay a price. I have seen the cost in my dad’s eyes. But I have also seen the reward. I have heard the stories, I know the price of the choices that I wish to make. That will not stop me from making them. Because I was raised to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is, no matter how many people try to scream that I am wrong. I will not back down, I will not break. I will keep getting up. I will not let this world change me.

What I do is so
This world will know
That it will not change me

Embrace Your Inner Geek Day

Happy Embrace Your Inner Geek Day! ‘Is that a real thing?’ you are probably asking yourself. The answer is yes, it has been one of those fun little ‘holidays’ for the past ten years now. See, look at that- the more you read, the more you’ll know. Now you can drop some knowledge on the people you run into this beautiful day (well, I hope it’s beautiful where you are, my friends). Personally, I stopped shoving my inner geek back into her shiny display box years ago- she is now fully embraced everyday, but I don’t see anything wrong with celebrating her existence right this moment. In fact, given recent nerdism events, it seems like the perfect time to start waving that freak flag high in the air.

It appears to me that in the past few years, being a geek has become a bit more mainstream. All of a sudden people want to hear about the vintage comic books I read, though they do tend to lose interest when I explain the differences between the ‘true’ origins and the Marvel movie origins. Everyone knows my hobbit ‘second breakfast’ reference, and they no longer blink at me in confusion when I mention the Misty Mountains. I am not the only one who can tell you without a second thought what Alohamora means, or inform you about what you would get if you were to add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood (it created a sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death, courtesy of the illustrious Professor Snape). And I know that I am not the only one who’s heart raises in hope when I hear an owl hooting. Perhaps they are finally here to deliver my acceptance letter to Hogwarts- granted, it would be about fifteen years too late, but we all know how the post system can be. And besides, by now they probably have some form of adult education program, right? I am not ready to let that dream die just yet.

I have learned that it doesn’t have to be something unpopular or traditionally ‘nerdy’ to morph a well adjusted person into a geek. I know plenty of people who can geek out over sports, food, cars, etc. Geeking out about something has more to do with the excitement and the passion that you put into a subject, as opposed to what the subject is itself. Does it really matter if the thing that you love is popular or not? No- who cares, as long as it brings you joy. So why do we constantly feel the need to bash the things that people love?

I’m going to take a few minutes to discuss the new nerdism that is sweeping the nation and leaving people a bit confused in the process. Pokémon Go. Now, I will admit, I play- so my opinions will be a bit skewed, but hear me out- especially those of you who haven’t figured out what the big hype is. Full disclosure- I am a grown adult. I am 27 years old, I have a good job with full benefits and a retirement plan. I also spend the vast majority of my free time chasing that elusive dream of becoming a published author. If you come across me in my daily life, there is a ninety-five percent chance that you will find me working in one form or another. I am forever chasing a set goal, always running down the path of self-improvement. I love my to-do lists, I have an odd fascination with categorizing my productive time and list out my accomplishments vs unmet goals. To put it bluntly, I spend plently of my time as a perfectly boring adult. And I think that is the problem with most of us.

We get so bogged down in depressing news stories about the state of the world, our daily trials and tribulations, the mind-numbing chores and activities- and we forget how much fun there is to have in life. We age ourselves before the world can do it for us. I know how to maintain the balance between being a productive adult and letting my hair down to have fun; I can focus on my job when it’s time to work, I still meet all of my writing goals and deadlines, and my household chores are done in a timely manner. And yes, I can still find a few minutes during my daily dog-walking time to chase down a Charmander. As long as my version of fun doesn’t hurt anyone or cause some form of property damage- who cares what form it takes? At least I know not to take myself too seriously all the time. Life is supposed to have adventure, you might as well embrace it.

You see, Pokémon is something that I grew up with, it’s something that brings back good family memories of cramming into our old Ford F-250 with my parents and three siblings as we drove out into the mountains to hike or play in the snow. On the trips my sister, brothers and I all had our Gameboys out- Pokémon and Mario made up the majority of my game time (and don’t worry- I grew up in the last generation to enjoy the great outdoors, so I wasn’t lacking in sunshine fun either). So here I am, a grown adult with the opportunity to bring to life a childhood dream- of course I’m going to love the idea. It is reminiscent of a simpler time in my life, back when there was still magic and my biggest problem was my sister stealing my favorite Barbie doll. I miss when those were my problems, and I still believed that I could do anything I set my mind to- even end world hunger.

The only thing that has suffered since I started playing a few days ago: my TV/internet time. It’s easy to wind down at the end of the day with a good show or perusing the internet and social media. Now that time is filled with long walks, good friends, and excited four-legged companions. In the past day and a half I have walked roughly 30,000 steps, most of those were with my German Shepard who was unbelievably thrilled with the adventures of our trots through town. I talked to multiple strangers, hanging out with a few for about 20 minutes or so- this in itself is huge for someone with the social anxiety that normally sends me running in the opposite direction when my cheeks burning in shame. But think about it- there is a built in conversation starter and something to do when you aren’t sure what to say next- it’s a great way to branch out and meet other people without the usual pressures of typical daily interactions. I discovered four new statues I have never noticed before at a park I have been to about a dozen times. I went to a ‘concert in the park event’ during the lunch hour with my dog- another thing I typically avoid (large crowds are not on my list of favorites). I discovered a park a few blocks from my house that has a beautiful scenic walking trail and took my dog on an little adventure. We met up with a friend and let our two dogs try to socialize for the first time while we walked around town (both of our little fur babies are leery of strange pups). All of this activity because of one silly game I can download on my phone. Tell me, does that really sound like such a bad thing? (Below are a few of my discoveries, all thanks to Pokémon Go)

There is enough negativity in the world, so when people find something that they enjoy- why don’t we just celebrate that rare gift? We could all use some common ground, and if it happens to be standing in the park throwing virtual balls at a fake Squirtle- so be it. We spend too much time divided, we don’t need to continue drawing more lines in the sand.

So today I ask you to embrace the geek- whatever your hobbies may be, indulge yourself. Go back and re-read Harry Potter again, figure out how to make a litter box that looks like a Hobbit-hole, play Iron Man vs. the Hulk with your niece, put together a model airplane, wax the car, catch the Pikachu you’ve been tracking for the past three days, bake a dozen cupcakes and use candy to decorate them as monsters. Whatever it is that you love, go out there and do it. Be safe and enjoy. We only have one life to live, and the only way to feel young is to remember that you don’t have to be old just because the world tells you to. Take time to enjoy this crazy world that we live in because some days there is precious little to celebrate. So when we find a happiness, let’s embrace it, nurture it, and stop trying to stamp it out of one another. This world could use a little bit more kindness, don’t you think?

Silence isn’t Golden

Happy Fourth of July, my friends! May your day be safe and beautiful, full of good food, great company, happy pets and perhaps a gorgeous fireworks show to end this holiday. Sometime during your festivities today, I would like you to take a moment to ponder something that has been keeping my mind occupied this weekend. On Friday a great man named Elie Wiesel passed away at age 87. He was not born an American, no, he was born in Romania and did not become a U.S. citizen until 1963. Elie Wiesel is one of those brave souls that survived the Holocaust, as you can read in his book ‘Night.’ If you have never read this little paperback, I strongly suggest you go find a copy. The images and feelings he was able to convey in so few pages is astounding. It will change you on a fundamental level. You are probably wondering why I mention him on the day we celebrate our country- and it’s rather simple, I think we all have a lot we can learn from him, a lesson we are in desperate need of.

I think we are all well aware of the state of the world that we live in. Every day there is news of another bombing, another shooting, more refugees without homes, crumbling economies, starving families, death and destruction. We see so much that it is easy to turn our backs so that we do not have to feel the daily pain that these stories will cause. What can we do to help, after all? We are just one voice, no one will listen to us. It is moments like this that we must remember the voices who cannot speak. We must hear the stories to keep them from happening again instead of standing idly by.

It is easy to say that one voice cannot make a different, it can be carried away with the wind, there is no power there. But one voice speaking out may give others the same courage. And then you have two, three, a chorus, a symphony- you cannot be ignored. The world we live in is always changing- sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. And every generation has to fight to find their place in it. Every generation feels lost because they came into this world when it was in dire straits. I hate to say this- but our world is always in this condition.

I have fallen for this logic too. Why should I speak out when there is no one to listen to me? I despise confrontation, and the last thing I ever want to do is offend someone. But where do you draw the line between keeping people happy and doing what is right? If you stand by and do nothing, are you just as guilty?

Now, I typically do not discuss my personal or political opinions unless I am specifically asked. Today, however, upon remembering his stories and his lessons, I find myself searching for something deeper within myself. He always said that the greatest sin was indifference. And I believe there is something to be said for the notion that a lack of action makes you just as guilty as those taking action. If you stand by and watch the world burn, how is it any different from you holding the match?

We find ourselves in a unique set of circumstance, able to easily reach out and have our voices heard through the advent of social media. We also have the responsibility that comes with information being immediately within our grasp; if we bother to look, we can see everything- the refugee crisis, the economic collapse, war, hate crimes, the fate of the political arena- there are so many problems, it is easy to get overwhelmed. So we look away, find something fun to fill our time, tell ourselves that it is not our responsibility. But we are wrong. Today, on the day that we celebrate our country and the values that it stands for, and in honor of this fallen hero, I make a promise to myself- I will not forget. There will be no more watching in silence, no more telling myself that my voice is so small, it will not matter. My voice alone may not make a difference, but if it finds others- we could become a roaring ocean. The world that we live in is a dark and scary place, and like the characters in our stories, we must all learn to take a stand, to say that enough is enough. I don’t have much to offer, just my humble written words- but perhaps that could be enough. If I can get through to just one person, then it was not in vain.

So tonight, as you watch the beautiful fireworks shows and enjoy the company of friends and families, take a moment to remember why we are doing this: because there were a few voices who decided to speak, who brought a fledgling nation to action. It started out as just a simple idea and it changed the world. I don’t know if my voice will ever make a difference, but at least I can be comfortable in the fact that I did not stand idly by and watch events take place. I am not a simple bystander to my life. We all live here, we all have a duty to stand up for our beliefs. We have a responsibility to speak for those who have no voice- we do this in hopes that someday, if we ever lose ours, someone else will be brave enough to speak for us.