Election week.

We have a bedtime routine. We have dinner. I prepare Javi's bottle while Sean puts him in PJs. I get his room ready; turn on his sound machine, start up his humidifier, turn off the lights. Sean gives him his bottle in the living room with the lights and TV off. I wash the bottles from the day and when he's finished with his bottle Sean walks him over to me while he holds "Frank" a stuffed dachshund from Ikea and I give him a kiss and whisper "goodnight".  Last Tuesday night, I added "when you wake up you're going to have a woman president".

Election night in America is my Superbowl. We had an early dinner, put Javi to bed, had to run an errand for Sean's mom and came home to watch the results come in. I fully expected a similar experience to that of 2008 and 2012, but as we all know by now, the states that had previously been blue, turned red on November 8th. As 11PM neared (the time I was positive it would be called because this was just "in the bag") it became very clear to me that the night was going into the morning. Considering we have a 13 month old (and the fact that I wake up at 4:25AM for work) I debated going to bed but ultimately decided I couldn't and my brain wouldn't let me. So I watched all night, until my alarm went off for work and until what I viewed as the worst possible outcome became a reality. And it hit me hard. I cannot express with words how much I am against this new president-elect. 

I didn't realize how much I loved this country until I was 15. I don't have many memories of the country or world outside of my life and family before that age. I remember "I did not have sex with that woman" and "if it doesn't fit, you must acquit". That's it. Call me self-centered. But I turned 15, the day before 9/11. The 9/11. And on that day, and all the days after I realized how much I loved the United States of America and all that "being American" means. I made it a point to learn about the country and the government and world events and current affairs. For the first time I watched the DNC on the day Barack Obama spoke. I was hooked. I knew that my views leaned toward progressive thinking and at 18, I registered for the first time as a democrat. And I never looked back. In college, I donated what money I had toward the Obama campaign. I bought t-shirts and sweatshirts and signed petitions and donated my time. I saw Barack Obama speak in Boston, heard his story (in person), listened to what he wanted to do, heard his vision and I thought "This is why America is so great" -- because we have people like this.

         

*Spoiler alert* -- I've succeeded in this America. If I had to check off boxes of accomplishments I've achieved --  my boxes would be full, and then some. I also acknowledge many people do not succeed in this America. People are discriminated against. People are oppressed. People are angry. People feel unheard or they're poor or they've been abandoned by the people who are supposed to protect them. Or they are all of the above and then some. I just didn't think the majority of America felt this way. Surely, that's a mistake? Me, over here in my liberal bubble in the Northeast just doesn't understand. Politics, I understand. I understand the electoral college. I understand democracy. I understand he won by the numbers. I refuse to force myself to think that the majority of Americans don't care that people are discriminated against, oppressed, or unheard. Because that's just not true. We are intelligent and compassionate individuals. We represent the beacon of hope. Freedom. Bravery. Courage. Doing the right thing. Leading the way. Setting an example. We the People. We're stronger together. Surely, we didn't just turn on each other? It seems a little bit like we did.

I don't want Javi to grow up in an America that chooses hate. One that builds up walls. One that turns its back on neighbors. One that fights people who are different. An America that chooses inequality. And racism and xenophobia. I don't want Javi to grow up watching a president who thinks the people he leads are beneath him. A person who takes rights away, treats women as property and has little to no experience for the very position he holds. I don't want Javi to hear comments that aren't politically correct. *Spoiler* I happen to like when people are politically correct. You know what politically correct means? Language, policies and measures that are intended not to offend or disadvantage any particular group of people in society. I want that. I want kindness and compassion. Empathy and understanding. Fairness and equality. I want Javi to know that the color of his skin, and his maleness gave him an automatic boost at the start line of life. I want him to know that if you work really hard you can achieve what you want. That you are never entitled to anything and things are not just given to you. I want Javi to know that bullies don't win, money isn't power and that people are still good at heart. 

It's taken 5 days of conversations with family and friends to get to the point of tolerance (and I really hate that word). It's going to happen. The respect I have for the country we live in, tells me it's going to happen. Come January, this will be reality and rioting in the streets or staying in bed and crying isn't changing it. I'm slowly moving toward acceptance. So what else is there to do?

I can still raise Javi with all the values and morals I know to be right. 

I can get active behind causes I believe in and fight against ones that are wrong.

I can vote at midterm elections. 

I can do everything within my means to make sure this president only lasts one term. 

I can still love this country even if I'm disappointed.

Here's to 2020. Elizabeth Warren -- I'm looking at you. 

It's disappointing, but the jury has spoken.

Every couple of months something happens and I can't seem to tear myself away from the news. I don't know why because I know it could all be lies and whatever they show the audience is only for their benefit, or to prove a point they are trying to make. But nonetheless, here I am watching the news and reading the news hoping something about last Saturday's verdict will change. I just feel baffled.

Sean doesn't understand why I get invested in news stories about people who I don't know, will never know and who live states (and sometimes countries) away from us. But I always feel like I need to know what happened; what the outcome was and why. After all, one day it could happen closer to home; the person involved or killed could be my family member, my friend, my somebody -- and I would want the whole world to care. So, I care. I invest my time and my emotions and my thoughts. 

Now, I really believe in the government. I really believe in the legal system. I'm excited when I'm summoned for jury duty. I pay taxes immediately, I exercise my right to vote, I don't text and drive. The government says something, and I do it. I don't ask questions. I believe the government makes decisions based on the best interests of its people, and because of this the people should follow the rules, contribute, participate and be thankful. 

So, what do you do when you strongly disagree with something the legal system has decided? 

Well, people can take to the internet, to tweet, to status update, to blog, to sign petitions. People can take to the streets to rally or to riot. People can stop major public events for a moment of silence and they can question what went wrong or (unfortunately, in my opinion) rejoice in what went right.

Everyone thinks they are right. But whether you think the trial was too focused, or not focused enough, on race, gun control, certain state laws, character witness, etc. -- you can't argue that a teenager was murdered. And while, some may say that it was "justified" by self-defense -- I disagree. Why do we live in a world that classifies someone as suspicious just because you don't know them? It's wrong.

Sadly, this isn't the only case like it. There are tons and tons and tons. Tons of people killing other people, daily -- with guns -- because they look "suspicious" or because they "talked back" or because they are "mentally unstable". That's just not reasonable. It's not okay. I simply cannot stand behind a verdict that believes this treatment of people children, who are murdered, is honest and fair. I don't comprehend that the laws, can and do, defend the actions of their killers.

I waited almost a week to write anything down in hopes that the verdict would change. It didn't. I didn't take to Facebook, or Twitter, or any other rapid and immediate social media outlet where people can be rude and judgmental or attempt to crack a joke. I didn't riot or rally -- and maybe that's all wrong. Instead, I had quiet conversations with friends and family members about my thoughts and that's it. I reflected on it. I read about it. And I listened to what people said regarding it. But above all, I was reminded, yet again, that this is always true:

source

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.

  

Kony 2012

This has absolutely gone viral. But just in case you've missed it -- watch it. It's a must-see.