209 days.

This photo has nothing to do with this post -- but it makes me happy and this post is depressing. 

Oh, so many thoughts. 

I'm currently in Florida, after driving from MA and going through Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, D.C., Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia. Lots of states in just a few days, that's for sure. Luckily (or unluckily) I was plugged in the whole time and listened to DjT's news conference on facebook, in horror -- we sat in the car and said "what is happening right now?!" and "is he being serious?" -- Once we got to the hotel, we watched news channel after news channel distance themselves from his words and tell the audience that he failed America. I listened to Rachel Maddow give a very brief timeline of the KKK and learned (?) that DjT's father was once arrested for being part of a klan "rally" that got out of hand -- did we know this?! Did we know he was a nazi-sympathizer? We should have. This whole neo-nazi vs. anti-facist thing has got me all sorts of confused. Aren't we supposed to be anti-facists?! Isn't that just being a part of humanity? It's like every time I loosen up on my distain and disappointment of him he does something even worse than before. 

We all know what happened Saturday. So when Monday rolled around and we had to depart the cozy and safe (?) part of the northeast to drive... south, I was a bit worried! Of course, there are people everywhere that share the same views of DjT, who fly the confederate flag, or who don't value diversity, or who don't think social issues are important. I'm not naive. I don't think the northeast is some sacred blue land. But while driving through the south... I had no idea how many confederate flags I actually would see. There were a lot. And they were big. And they were flown really high. I don't understand it. That's not our flag. You are not preserving history. That's for museums to do. You are displaying a controversial symbol that represents racism, oppression and slavery. 

DjT has been in office for 209 days. That's it. He has more time ahead of him, in office, than behind. Because of who I am, and what I look like, and where I live -- I have the privilege of checking in and out of this presidency, his administration and his agenda. It's a terrible thing  --  that when it gets too much for me to handle and I feel useless and defeated and his words make me so frustrated and bring me to tears -- I can just not pay attention. Nothing has effected me. Yet. There have been no threats against me. Yet. I'm not an immigrant. I'm not muslim. I'm not transgendered. You can't tell I'm a person of color. I'm not Jewish.  -- And so what now? I wait until he continues to add more groups to his list of humans he won't defend or stand up for -- until one of those groups does define me? How is he leading us? How is he protecting us? 

It reminds me of this:

This weekend, all across the country, including Boston, there are going to be more "rallies" in the name of "free speech" and there will be counter-protests. It feels unsafe to attend these counter-protests but if people don't show up then... what? We'll all slowly be picked off and picked over by DjT and his administration until there's one kind of people in this country and most likely that one group of people won't include me or you. I have a problem with that. That's not the America I want to live in and it's not the America I want for my kids. 

A new president.

I've heard that when you feel strong, or powerful, you automatically raise your arms up and over your head. It's why sports players do this when they win. 

I remember election night, back in 2008, watching TV and waiting to hear if Barack Obama was going to get the chance to bring us hope and change. And when it was declared, I sat in my bed at my house and raised my arms up and over my head as if I just completed a marathon. Or got a goal. Or achieved some other type of athletic accomplishment. And I repeated over and over and over again, "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god". It was like I did something. I achieved something. Like I won. I was sure that he was the positive change, he was the hope, he was it. And I was happy. 

During these past 8 years -- I've grown and I've grown up. I graduated college. I got engaged, married and had a baby. I became a teacher. I have my own insurance. My own savings accounts and retirement funds. I bought a house. Between Sean and I, 4 cars. I travelled. I went to political rallies. I've had time for hobbies, and fun and doing nothing at all. I volunteered, donated money and goods to various charities. I've cared and cried and laughed and lived. I've felt safe and scared; felt joy and sadness but have utterly enjoyed this amazing country I call home. I was proud that Barack Obama lead the way during my 20s and never once thought twice about or regretted my vote. I mean, we have his '08 acceptance speech framed in our living room. And a note from the Obamas in response of our wedding invite.

By November 8th 2016, my 20s had officially been over for nearly 2 months. My 30s were met with a win by someone I'm not proud of, not excited for and not someone I want to be the face of an America where I'm now raising a child. On that night, though my words sounded the same as back in '08 -- "Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god" -- my arms were not raised up and over my head. They were over my mouth and tears were streaming down my face and my heart was broken. I did not feel strong or powerful. Or like I won much of anything.

It's been 2 1/2 months now and those feelings are still intense. January 20, 2017 has come too soon for me. I'm not ready for this to be the new normal. I don't want it to be this way. I respect democracy but this is too far -- too off the rails, it feels like we're entering crazytown and it's too late to jump off.

Despite my feelings of anger and disbelief, I hold onto this: 

"If you're walking down the right path and you're willing to keep walking, eventually you'll make progress. " - Barack Obama

It matters how we think and feel and treat each other. It matters that we rise up and rise to the occasion. It matters how we raise our kids and teach them about respect and empathy and compassion and equality. It matters that we hope and dream and crave positive change. It matters that we don't give up or give in or lose our spirit. It matters that we don't just sit and cry with hands over our mouths in disbelief but instead argue for what is right and just and peaceful. It matters. Because those things are powerful. And that makes you strong. And that makes progress.

So I'm not going to think about this new president and all the pomp and circumstance of this day and the hatred he allows and spreads. Instead I'll focus on -- fighting for what's right, positive change, and making progress... with my eyes focused on those mid-term elections and 2020. 

It's Christmas Eve.

It's been 21 days since my last post and it's as though the entire world has changed in these three weeks. Normally, time passes and events occur and they blend together. But this December has been pretty monumentally laid out in ways that I don't think people will allow it to be blurred or forgotten.

I'll give you a quick update on what's been going on personally:

- I was in Houston for 4 days earlier this month. 

- I hosted a cookie swap. Post soon to come.

- I decorated for Christmas. Post soon to come.

- I took, ordered, mailed out Christmas cards. Post soon to come.

- I finished my Zumba and Country line dancing classes.

- I attended a few holiday parties.

- I began my 2 week winter break.

Sean's been working on music like crazy and some days it seems that lots of different people come in and out of our house to record some type of musical instrument. I don't mind this because it gives me time to catch up on DVR... and watch all the shows Sean doesn't like to watch.

Apollo is as cute as ever and is very excited for Christmas.

But to be honest, all these things that we've done the past three weeks feel so small.

Now is an exciting time, and like I've mentioned before I am the person who goes out on Black Friday to get the deals and to shop 'til I drop... because for...ever I thought that's what Christmas was all about.

But then, December 14th happened. I could tell you what happened, but there's no need. 

And now it's not about the gifts, the deals and sales, the shopping, the materials given as presents.

Like many people, December 14th changed my views. About the holidays. About my work. About my blog. About my every day schedule. About the life I'm living.

And of course, I always knew that life is short. To tell people I love them every day. To hold people close. To live every day to the fullest. To enjoy the little things. That tomorrow isn't promised.  

But let's be honest. It's easy to get sucked up in the moment. To run out the door in the morning without a kiss goodbye. To fall asleep at night without saying goodnight. To go through the motions of life, and the schedule of your day, without actually allowing yourself to express your emotions. 

It took me all week to decide how I would write about this. Obviously, I would have to say something. I couldn't post about it when it first happened, and all week this post has been the one that's been in the back of my mind. That monumental event that needs to be mentioned but it's just so awful.

But it's wrong to ignore it.

That's why I blog. I blog so that something is here to remind me what I feel and what I do. I blog so that family and friends who I don't get the chance to talk to every day read what I'm up to. I blog to communicate, to vent, to explore. I blog to connect. I blog as a hobby. I blog to remember. Maybe it's petty, and maybe it's self-indulgent but it's something that is real. A real diary of a real journey and something that is important to me. To keep words and pictures and memories in a place that is concrete and accessible and honest. And while at times, it may seem that DIY projects, and holiday parties, and my cat are so small compared to large, drastic, and [sometimes] horrible events that happen in the world... it's still okay for me to write about these things because if I'm chronicling my life that's what I'm up to. And I'm not ashamed of that. 

If anything I'm lucky that these small things are keeping me happy. I'm lucky to be safe, and healthy, and that my family is safe and healthy, and to be able to say that my biggest problem right now is that my ribbon doesn't match my wrapping paper under the tree.

[And to know that won't always be the case.]

It helps to get a little perspective. To live in the moment. To reassess what's important. To take a step away only to return with clarity. 

Because honestly, it's not about the presents, the decorating, the holiday parties, or the ribbon under the tree. Sure that's what I talk about.. because those are the things I can take pictures of. Those are the things that I can quickly explain. Jot it down so that in 12 months when I do a yearly re-wrap I remember what the house looked like.

But really? It's about the person laying next to me. It's about my parents and his. It's about our families. It's about our friends. It's about the laughter, the jokes, the animals running around like crazy. It's about seeing relatives that you don't get to see every day. And sometimes it's easy to forget that's what I should write about. Those feelings are what should be remembered, and chronicled.  

And while I don't want or need horrific events like December 14th to happen in order to remind myself of what's real or what's important it definitely puts the beauty and fragility of life into perspective. 

Definitely.

So Happy Christmas Eve. May peace and perspective find you when you need it most. 

A brighter day will come.

I have to admit the past couple days I've just been overwhelming consumed with the news about the Colorado movie theater shooting. For me, it's one of those events that my mind simply cannot filter out like it does for the majority of violent attacks that happen in the world, every day.

I feel so badly for the people in the theater that night, the families and friends of the people in the theater that night, the emergency responders who had no idea what they were running into that night, the doctors, nurses, paramedics and social workers who had to make those calls that no one ever expects to receive that night, and the community who since that night has had to deal with loss, and cameras, and reporters and change.

I think it's so hard to grasp because going to a midnight showing of a Batman movie would be something Sean and I would do. And we wouldn't think twice about it. Because we shouldn't have to.

I think it's so hard to grasp because the people that were injured or who were killed were [for the most part] right around our age. 

I think it's so hard to grasp because there's nothing in my mind that can rationalize hurting people like that. It's senseless. It's cowardly. It's not fair.

It's not fair to make people second guess their completely rational plans of going to the movies. 

Or for that matter the mall... or school... or work.

Or all the other normal places these tragedies occur. 

We shouldn't have to be afraid. 

But it's so hard not to be.

Unfortunately, we only have two choices. 

Be afraid and stop living our lives.

Or live our lives... to the fullest with love, respect and compassion. 

Love for those who love us back.

Respect for those who deserve it.

And compassion for those for need it.

via.