Category Archives: Writing

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Don’t Believe the Social Media Hype

We all live off of our social media. I’m definitely on Twitter, Facebook, and Reddit for an obscene amount of time everyday. It’s the best way to keep up with Overwatch League news and get those precious Baby Yoda memes. (Those get me all the time.) But this is also where people put out the best versions of themselves. Even I try to take images on my more self-conscious days that don’t show off that pile of toys and other crap on the floor that I just didn’t feel like picking up.

The problem is that for every time a parent brags about their child’s grades or gets those adorable photos, it’s not real life. While they are taking that picture of that awesome report card, her children are probably tearing apart the house as they scream bloody murder and tattling on each other while she has her other hand on the bottle of wine. Because sometimes the glasses aren’t enough and you just need to go to the big show. It’s like that meme where everything’s on fire and they are sitting there going “It’s fine”.

That mom isn’t posting a selfie saying “felt cute” because she felt cute. More likely she needed the validation because that day was an awful day. That’s fine. People need something to make themselves feel better and they shouldn’t be judged for that. I’m pretty much a 90% anti-judgement person. The rest of the 10% is reserved for parents who don’t use car seats for their kids, mistreat their children in any way, mistreats my children, mistreats dogs, and people who don’t like Baby Yoda memes.

People see those perfect photos of their “perfect”children and other people get jealous. I’m guilty of it. When I see a parent who has a young kid who started speaking on time or early, I get a little jealous or feel bad about myself because my youngest didn’t start talking until he was 4. It’s normal to feel bad about yourself as a mother, especially when looking at social media, because there is so much pressure on us. We have to stay at home with the kids, but also work to earn money. We have to have a clean house all the time, have a size 3 body with DD chest, be perfect cooks, and slaves to society. It’s a lot of pressure to put on people who on most days just feel successful if their kids are alive at the end of it.

You need to be careful on social media. Don’t believe everything you see. Don’t believe every news story that pops up without checking sources. Don’t believe that the person didn’t take 20 selfies before deciding on the perfect one. Social media is about perception. People want others to perceive them as perfect. See, I may sometimes take photos that minimize the mess that’s usually surrounding my home. But I’m honest about being an adequate mother that just gets lucky sometimes. It happens. Sometimes I do get the house perfectly clean. Sometimes I cook a killer homemade meal, and others I toss chicky nuggies and tater tots on a cookie sheet so I can get back to work. No one’s lives are perfect, so don’t let social media trap you into thinking they are.

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It All Started 49 Years Ago

I grew up in that generation where it was normal for families to get divorced. I could safely say I grew up with a lot of people who lived with single parents. It wasn’t something crazy. Divorce happens for whatever reason. The most important is usually that it’s just better for the kids if the people are apart than together. Sometimes the person who completed you, who made you a better person together, eventually becomes someone that you become better without. Life happens.

Today, my parents have been together for 49 years. That’s insane to me. Growing up, the idea of staying together with someone for that long was nuts. How could you possibly stand one person enough to want to live with them forever? I didn’t get it when I was younger. Even now, as a skeptic when it comes to romance, I’m shocked as I realize my husband and I have been married for nearly 10 years. It doesn’t feel like it. We just get along so well that every day is a treat.

My parents’ relationship taught me some valuable lessons. For one thing, never seeing each other works wonders for a relationship. (Joking, of course. My parents worked different shifts and my dad worked a lot growing up.) That’s why our “Sunday Dinner” was so important. Even though it was lunchtime, it was called “Sunday Dinner” because my dad worked nights and that was like dinner time to him. The whole family would eat together that one day a week. The siblings that moved out would still show up, eventually with their kids, and the house was full of people. That was the time my father cut out to make sure he spent time with us. Our parents would work together to make a massive meal for all of us, and it was something that I’ll remember and pass on to my kids. It’s still a tradition today, with my family going to their house to spend Sunday Dinner with them, even though they are both now retired.

I also learned the importance of being treated well. My father dotes on my mother. Whatever she wanted, she usually got. Whether it was that expensive sweater from Ireland or a new computer, my dad would always make sure that my mother was taken care of. That taught me everything I needed to know about choosing a partner for my life. It taught me how a spouse should treat their wife/husband. There should be love and care and respect. There would be work. That married couples weren’t an ownership; they were a partnership. These are all very important things that I learned growing up watching my parents.

They also taught the value of resolving an argument. I would be lying if I said my parents never argued. They did. But they always resolved their argument. They didn’t belittle each other. They definitely fought for what they thought was right, but they never stooped. It turns out, everyone one of their fights was a good lesson in conflict resolution. There was a fight, and then there was an end. Children need to see that. They need to know that it’s okay to fight to give them realistic expectations in a marriage. Marriage is work, and it takes a lot of work to stay together for nearly 5 decades.

I’m grateful to have my parents still alive and still together. I’m grateful for the lessons that they taught me about marriage, even when they didn’t know they were teaching me. I learned that if you love someone enough to take the plunge, you love them enough to keep working at it in your own way. You can’t always stay together, and you shouldn’t always stay together. I’m not morally opposed to divorce. Families split up for their own reasons and that’s okay. This was meant as a way to applaud my parents for this long marriage and thank them for the lessons they taught me from watching them as I grew up.

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No Use Crying over Spilled Coffee

I have found myself in a perpetual state of being tired. Like, I have gone beyond “mom” tired into a realm of crossed-eyes and feeling as though I’m watching my body function rather than actually functioning myself. I was too tired to make myself a coffee yesterday, which I probably could have used my entire Chemex full of coffee and still be tired yesterday. After waking up to having my hair pulled out of my scalp by my violently-sleeping child and then struggling to get back to sleep when it happened around 2 a.m., I managed to barely get through my work. Though the second much longer article I needed to work on took way too long due to my brain short-circuiting throughout the day. Still, pretty productive day thanks to not sleeping.

Last night, probably around 11pm, a good 20 or so hours later, my body finally gave in and I tried to sleep. It was a rough go because apparently at that point I had gone beyond exhaustion into “second wind”. Finally, midnight I was out for the count. Then woken up at 2am again, then asleep until 5am. Then I gave up and just started to work again.

I went to make coffee, apparently the last of my coffee, when I noticed my son didn’t put away the cheese after supper last night. As I grabbed it to remove it from my counter, I turn around to hear the sounds of the coffee beans spilling out of the coffee grinder. I was all ready to go. I was excited that even though it was my last bit of coffee, there was a delivery coming from the coffee subscription I signed up for when I got my raise from work. I envisioned the joy, albeit short-term joy, that this coffee was going to give me. I was even eyeing to see if there would be enough to enjoy a few cups throughout the day, then of course try the new coffee when it came in later. My hopes and dreams of caffeine were crushed with that sound of the coffee beans hitting the floor.

I swept it all up into a pile, then I sat down to mourn my coffee. My dreams. My caffeine that I so desperately needed at this moment in time. I’m not particularly known for being emotional. Some would even say I’m cold. (They’re probably not wrong.) But that moment, I almost felt tears. It was a tough one. I considered whether or not my floor was that dirty. I was that desperate. I looked at the pile and noticed pet hair. I still considered it, if I’m being completely honest. I’m not sure if it’s because A) that coffee was that good; B) I was that desperate for coffee; C) Did I mention I barely slept in 2 days and my sanity is gone?

Today is really one of those days as a working at home parent where I don’t think there’s enough coffee in the world to deal right now. Sure, the easy solution could be kicking my anxiety-night terror-riddled child out of my bed. But, I’d still have to wake up and try carrying this tall and not so light child to his bed every time I wake up and notice him. And as I like to think that I’m more stubborn than him, I’m probably not especially at any time between 12 a.m. and 5:30 a.m. I keep hoping that it’s just another phase I need to get through, figuring that his emotional development has always been a little behind the rest. Maybe.

But there’s no sense in crying over spilled coffee, no matter how exhausted you are. I still have to put on my big girl pants and work, clean, and being the adequate (maybe mediocre) mom that I am. Except I’m a little less adequate today without any caffeine to cover my lack of sleep. I do have to say, until my body crashes this lack of sleep has done wonders for me on a productivity level.

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It’s All Fun and Games Until You Pass Out at a Work Party

It should have been a fun night out. My husband and I are admittedly not a couple that does date night regularly. The kids are only young for so long, after all. But one day that we always have for date night is my husband’s work party. The close knit group of employees gets together and fun is had.

It started off great. Talking with great people at the beginning of the night, my husband winning us another trip. (Which, will include the kids.) It was full of sweet exchanges. That was until I felt it start to happen. I felt a stabbing pain in my side, that evolved into the feeling as if someone had a fire sword slicing through the lower part of my abdomen and back. This wasn’t the real thing. This was the “minor” pregame of what the next two weeks were going to be like for me. Then, my head started swirling. I couldn’t think or focus. I tried to drink water, hoping it would pass….

…Except the only thing that “passed” was me out on the floor. I barely remember it. I remember leaning onto my husband, warning him of what was about to happen. He could only protect me from seriously hurting myself, only walking away with a banged up elbow, a sore shoulder, and a hit to my dignity. I remember the people huddling over me. I think I heard someone mention calling 911 and the thought of the ambulance bill woke me out of the spell.

Still weak, a few of the women helped me to the bathroom. They helped me splash cold water on my face and wet paper towels. The made sure the bathroom was cleared so my husband could come in and take me back to the table, where they had more water and ginger ale. It was a sweet moment. It was embarrassing. I had to admit that it wasn’t because of the heat or the fact the food was slow to come out. It was because of me. Because I’m defective. Not because I had drank too much, which honestly would have been the better way to go down. Just as embarrassing, but you won’t feel the pain until the next day.

This wasn’t my first major dizzy spell that has led to me passing out. I remember one time where it happened while cooking dinner and I hit my head on the tile floor and the glass measuring cup I was holding smashed against my face. The glass didn’t break, but my face and eye were pretty swollen. It was something I could shrug off as “it happens”. It does. I’m used to it. It still terrifies my husband every time though.

It’s never an easy thing to say “I have a thing where my period basically feels like I have the worst flu of my life for 14 days.” I don’t typically leave the house starting the first day of the placebo pills until after the symptoms completely subside. I have dizzy spells, I spend a lot of time nauseated sometimes to the point of aversion to meats. Just looking at them in a picture is nauseating, let alone the smell. There’s always the fear of leaving blood trails everywhere I go because I seem to bleed out an obscene amount. I’m practically resigned to my bed whenever I can because I’m prone to dizzy spells and I get headaches so severe sitting up isn’t worth it. There’s also the cramps, which are significantly more painful than child birth. It’s like someone has a noose that’s lit on fire wrapped around your lower abdomen and back and your left hanging for 2 weeks as it gets tighter every day.

The problem is sometimes there is no fancy diagnosis. Apparently people need that for validation that you aren’t some wuss with a low pain tolerance. They think you just need to suck it up. There’s not a solution for it; the ones in power seem more concerned with women having babies as God intended and not about the harsh realities some people face. I get to spend time I should be out at a job or being more active curled up in the fetal position wondering why there’s nothing I can do about how I feel. There’s no magic pill that makes it bearable and you need to keep reheating that heating pad to function enough to at least be the adequate parent you are. But you can’t. Because you have a hormonal headache so bad you can’t even open your eyes to look at them.

It’s embarrassing to write about this. But it shouldn’t be. I’m not the only one who has this struggle. Maybe someone else has it too and wants to know that it’s normal. The problem is that it isn’t normal; it’s just common. There should be a solution to make life more livable without hearing “just suck it up”. But, you’re not the only one with this struggle. The picture here is a selfie I took during a bad migraine in my dark room, curled up in agony with my Pixel Night Sight so I didn’t have to hurt myself with the flash. This is the reality some of us deal with.

Side note: I’m am very thankful to those who helped and reached out to my husband to ask how I am doing. It’s very kind. It definitely helps to know that there was no judgement and that people genuinely cared.

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Raising the New Generation of Men

I’m a mom of boys. #boymomlife? It’s never boring. I spend more time using plates and cups that aren’t glass, not because I don’t have them or am too lazy to do the dishes. It’s because they break things. I don’t subscribe to boys being boys, but boys can kinda be monsters. They wrestle and nut shot each other. They hit each other to the point that I just let them as long as they don’t kill each other. Honestly, that’s my motto. If everyone comes out relatively okay at the end of the day, I didn’t fail.

I always say that we are responsible for raising the next generation of adults. It’s an important job being a parent because you really are shaping the future. It’s a heavy burden when you really think about it. I have made all of my parenting decisions on that premise of I’m not raising kids; I’m raising future adults. Adults that could be the next president or working the beat as police officers or teachers that help mold their next generation. Sure, you could do everything right and your kid still ends up a serial killer as an adult. But, that’s not something to dwell on.

I also always point out about how my parents didn’t really stick too much to those “gender roles” that so many people force on their children. Sure, I can cook, knit, sew, and other “domestic” things, but I’m also able to do minor repairs around the home, and various other “men” things. I was raised to be a strong, badass Irish woman. My boys spend a lot of time learning from both myself and my husband. I teach the boys how to do laundry and lately, how to cook. My oldest even cooked a pretty awesome pot of curry. My youngest wants to start learning how to cook. I don’t want my boys to rely on their wives to take care of them. I want them to be able to take care of themselves, or their partners, or me when I’m old and unable to do anything for myself.

The old-fashioned people would tell you that letting boys play with dolls is bad. It isn’t. Worst case, they end up becoming compassionate and caring fathers. When I bought my youngest a kitchen set, there were people even mentioning that this was me teaching my son to be a girl, to be gay. It was a bit shocking. There’s nothing negative about a man cooking. (Then again, there’s nothing wrong with a man being gay either.) Men cook. My husband was even in the kitchen last night teaching our 17-year-old how to make the perfect runny egg. It was a bonding experience that they enjoyed as they talk about anime and comics and current events.

Food brings people together. I appreciate that my boys want to learn my family recipes to cook for their families. We should encourage our men to be compassionate and caring. We should be teaching our daughters to be strong and independent. Maybe the flaw isn’t that we aren’t teaching our children their “roles”; it’s that we are. The fact is, there are no definitive roles anymore. Men stay at home with kids while moms work. Men help out around the house. They are more active in the child rearing. These aren’t negatives. This is the way it should be.

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Our New Adventures in Impeachment

I’m not sure what I expected when I turned on the impeachment hearings to watch them. Maybe I wanted to watch because I was old enough to watch the Clinton hearings. It was an interesting thing to watch, the constitution in action. I was never someone who was particularly interested in political science, but I thought it was interesting because it was something I’d never seen before. Looking back, I still recall how the president went from ridiculously asking “what do you mean by _____ ?” to “I apologize for my actions and lying to the American people.” But I was told this was history. That when a president lies, they need to be held accountable for that lie.

When the new impeachments finally started going forward, I struggled to watch it. I still had that desire to watch the constitution work on screen, but it was different. Maybe it’s because now I understand the ridiculous political circus it all is. Back then, Clinton was guilty of having an affair with an intern and lying about it. Something that as an adult now seems irrelevant to me. Silly, even. Politicians cheat on their wives. Especially with interns that they have power over. Hell, the current president has cheated on his wife. “Well,” they say, “it isn’t about the affair; it’s about the lie.” But, couldn’t the same apply here?

At the minimum, there was a ton of lies coming from President Trump. A summary of a transcript is different from an actual transcript. I could write a summary of something; doesn’t mean it covers what it’s supposed to. When I talk to someone on the phone and my husband asks, “what was that?”, I don’t give him an exact statement of what I said. I don’t say “Was just talking about the kids with my mom and how the nursing home search was going for Gramma. Oh, I was complaining about how I never get to sleep in but you always get to and it’s annoying AF.” I say “Oh, I was talking to my mom about the kids and asking about the nursing home search for Gramma.” The summary is very different than the actual conversation. The only difference is my husband isn’t questioning me about potential treason; he’s concerned if there is something wrong with my our family.

Watching this is insane. It’s grandstanding, unless of course it’s your guy you are asking the questions to. It’s asking a question but then not liking the answer, so you scream about how they aren’t answering the question the right way. It’s a little crazy. You can’t accuse one side of being biased when you are clearly also being equally biased. You can’t complain about the Democratic lawyer being a witness on the stand when you say Schiff should be there, but not complain about the Republican lawyer being there despite that Nunes/Trump/White House Counsel should be there. You can’t have it both ways. Except you apparently can. Because everyone up there is crazy.

If you don’t have anything to hide, just show the people what they need to say “You know what, we were wrong. You didn’t do what we thought you did.” But why not just do it? Why not just come to the hearings and clear your name? I don’t understand. Innocent people have nothing to hide. Is the issue that you did the thing? Or that you did another thing that was worse and/or equally bad and it will come out? What is it? Or are you completely innocent? I’m a skeptic. I don’t think anyone is innocent here. It’s just a matter of which scapegoat goes down instead of the president.

Should the impeachment be going on? If you can impeach a president for having an affair and lying about it, you can impeach a president for potential treason. When your defense comes down to “He’s too inept to be guilty”, there’s a problem. If he’s too inept to be guilty, maybe he shouldn’t have access to the military or nuclear codes or I don’t know, be the president. If he is guilty, I think he should be punished for his crimes. I’m a big believer in justice. But this is a circus orchestrated by both sides for political gain. I think he’s absolutely guilty, but no one cares about that. They just care about the politics. Who cares about what’s right or wrong when #amgreelection”?

It doesn’t matter. Even if he is guilty and gets impeached, Senate won’t do anything about it. They don’t care. The Democrats don’t care if he’s actually guilty, they just want to take him down. I don’t care about whether or not he goes down; I’m just a big fan of the truth. I have this silly belief that if people are guilty, then they should get an appropriate punishment for their crimes. I know, I’m old-fashioned. I just wish we didn’t have this clown circus of both Democrats and Republicans running the show because this seems like I’m watching something that is made up for the Onion. I feel like they can’t stay with an intelligent thought or properly articulate themselves for longer than a few seconds before they devolve into toddler tantrums that rival any I had ever seen. America deserves so much better than this.

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The Case of the “Can’t Evens”

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a Christmas person. I could tag all of my blogs where I talk about my hatred for the holiday, but I don’t think we have the time for that. It’s all a chore. You run around to get gifts, hide them, horribly wrap them so that people think your kids did it when you’re really just a lefty that is incapable of cutting anything properly, only to have to clean up the mess and worry about paying back the obscene amount of money that you spent on gifts. Then you worry you didn’t get enough. The only real joy is the whole 5 seconds after they open their presents before they move onto the next one. Then they give you a thank you, if you’re lucky. (Fortunately, I am.) You go through all that and then 3 months later they don’t even play with that really awesome thing that you got them, that they really wanted. It’s a thankless holiday that doesn’t even give you brownie points that last more than a week.

I know. It’s supposed to be about important things like family and blah blah blah. But the thing is, between other kids and all of those ads on televisions, you do feel like you have to meet expectations. There’s always those people that brag about how much they have under their tree and you get too embarrassed to show what’s under yours. It’s stressful. People play the holiday to put a price tag on love. My price tag isn’t much, so I guess I don’t love my family as much as those people who go thousands of dollars into debt for the holiday.

I’m not sure if it’s the holiday season, my ridiculous levels of sleeplessness, my inability to shake this whatever illness/consecutive illness, or it’s just a case of the “can’t evens”. Spending half my morning arguing with a 7 year old about how maybe his jeans would be skinny enough if he wasn’t tall and lanky like his father doesn’t help. Or that maybe had he not thrown his favorite winter hat in the trash on accident and now I can’t get rid of the smell so I had to make him wear his old Paw Patrol hat. Which apparently was a bad call, since the kids at school made fun of him for it. Which led to him not bringing it home. Which led to me having to give him a Star Wars hat, leading to the “what if they make fun of me for liking Star Wars when I don’t? I just like baby Yoda.” It was a thing, and my eyes couldn’t stop rolling back. I thought I would lose them over this case of the “can’t evens”.

What can you do about the “can’t evens”? My play is to avoid writing articles as long as possible and be lazy. Maybe even brave an attempt to nap. Maybe I’ll blare music and dance around my house. Maybe I’ll actually work on a project I want to work on or get back to knitting that blanket or finally get back to reading Liz Phair’s memoir “Horror Stories”. Because I can’t help but to link my lack of sanity to my lack of knitting lately. Maybe I need to go back to Michael’s to get that awesome yarn I used to knit my baby nephew’s blanket with so I could make a giant one for me.

It’s okay to admit that you’re struggling, especially this time of year. It’s a time when we should be giving back to those in need, not stressing about getting that toy for your child. It’s the time when you have to mentally prepare for 2 week Christmas breaks and Christmas parties where you stand around feeling awkward all the time. Christmas is rough and the only ones who don’t think so are drinking too much eggnog or oozing an annoyingly high level of Christmas cheer as if they are trying out for Elf. (No hate intended. Just sayin’.) Don’t let others tell you how you should be feeling this time of year. It’s as okay to love Christmas as it is to hate it.

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The Month of Hopeful Productivity

November is NaNoWriMo. The month where writers try to create 50,000 words by the end of the month in hopes to create or start the novel that has been in their heads. This is a month that is supposed to be full of blissful productivity, one where you know you are working towards a goal and hope to succeed in it. Usually, I go in full of hope that this will be another year that I accomplish this goal. Some years, I try my best and fail mostly because life gets in the way. Some years, my own brain gets in the way. I have failed more than I succeeded, though it’s not about actually completing the goal. The spirit of NaNoWriMo is to settle down and attempt to start that novel you have wanted to write.

My problem, aside from my immune system and work and dealing with life’s obstacles, is that there are 2 books that I have started in this month, only getting about 5,000 words out of 50,000 but split between 2 books that both seem worthy of the effort. Finally, I settled on one only to second guess my call. I promised I would write a horror novel, but I keep undermining myself and critiquing my inability to write as I go. As a “published” author, I know you’re not supposed to think your book is utter crap until after you completed it, not belittle yourself as you go. I guess that’s just part of my process.

I spend most of my time writing for other people, then by the time I settle down to get my own writing done I feel like I’m all out of words for the day. My brain doesn’t want to think anymore. It wants to watch trashy television and recharge, only to pass out on the couch then fail miserably at going to and staying asleep at night. Then, I’m just in an endless loop of comatose functioning that there doesn’t seem to be enough coffee in the world to get out of.

I’m not having a month of productivity. I’m having a month of irrational insanity that is interfering with my peak level of productivity. I have paused my streaming for the month to focus on the work that I need to get done in the morning so that I can dedicate my evenings to whichever novel I settle on. As my youngest rants on about which actor stars in what movie and random facts about the actor and when a movie was released and whether or not the rating says it’s appropriate for him. As my teenager overdoes his physical therapy so that he can get in “peak form” when guppy week starts at the end of the month. Life is tossing some lemons my way so far these past 2 months, and I’m really in no mood for lemonade.

There have been times where the beginning of the month started off slow, but by the end of it, my brain goes into overdrive and nails the deadline even if I just finish mere minutes before 11:58 on November 30th. Maybe this is just one of those times. I’m not a quitter though. I will go insane until I either succeed or fail at the end of the month. But I won’t give up.

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The Right to Mock without Judgement

I’m a Scrooge. I admit it. I have a deep-seeded hatred of most holidays aside from Halloween. I don’t believe in a War on Christmas because I believe that some people just want Christmas to stay in it’s lane. I believe that when I’m shopping for Halloween stuff in September, I shouldn’t have a Christmas tree hitting me in the face. I believe in celebrating one of the crappy holidays that society tells me I have to celebrate at that time. Christmas doesn’t come before Halloween; it comes after Thanksgiving.

I want a break between these holidays I’m forced to smile my way through. I want to worry about not overcooking my food on Thanksgiving, not whether or not my Christmas tree still lights up or my ornaments are broken. I want to take some time without worrying about affording what my kids want for Christmas when I’m trying to Trick or Treat. I want to worry about the holidays when I’m supposed to, not because people want to call me a Scrooge or grump because I think it’s ridiculous that other holidays are supposed to be celebrated during their own time.

That doesn’t mean I don’t think you should. I will mock you for it, but I won’t judge you for it. You do what makes you happy. If celebrating for Christmas in early October is your thing, than own that. I’ll make jokes about it, but I don’t mean them as an insult to you. I’ll make a joke, but I am not there to insult you for how you live your life as much as I don’t think I should be insulted for thinking holidays need to stay in their own time without encroaching upon other holidays that rightfully deserve their time. As excited as I am about Halloween, I still wait until October to decorate for it.

The point is people should do what makes them happy without society telling them that they are asses for not wanting to do it or because they are drinking peppermint mocha lattes when November hits or pumpkin spice in August. I don’t particularly like the label of Scrooge just because I hate the holidays anymore than someone likes to be called crazy for their obsession with any given holiday. The world is terrible enough without taking the joy out of other people’s lives when it doesn’t affect you.

So I will post memes about Christmas’ intrusion where I don’t think it belongs because I find it funny. I will make comments about how holidays deserve their due respect because I believe that. I’m not doing these things to target people because I honestly don’t care what other people do. There is the capacity to believe something without having to put those beliefs on other people.

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Was it Really about a Boo?

Criticizing presidents and politicians is the American way. It is our right as the people who these people are supposed to be working for. It’s our right as Americans to be able to express ourselves in a peaceful manner. We were given those rights in the constitution and we should be very thankful to have those rights, especially when you take a look at how people are being silenced across the globe. We shouldn’t take this for granted because I fear we may not have these freedoms for long.

When President Trump got booed at the Nationals game, it became a topic of discussion about how people should respect the office. I respect the office even if I may not respect the man holding it. But I don’t think that people should mistake blind loyalty as respect. There’s nothing respectful about blind loyalty. This is usually based on fear or ignorance, not respect. I get how an audience booing at a sitting president can be seen as disrespectful. I can see how chants of “Lock Him Up” can be disrespectful. But it’s not really about respect, is it?

When Obama got booed in public, conservative sites praised this. These were the American people using their God-given right to express themselves. These were true patriots. Now that Trump gets booed, these same people rant about the disrespect this president has received. The other side is just as guilty here because they have also flipped the script from taking one incident as disrespectful and the other as a proud moment for Americans. Make up your mind: is it disrespectful to boo a president or not?

It isn’t the act that is appalling; it’s the fact that these groups can’t get their story straight and the majority of people don’t seem to care. Would I boo a sitting president to their face? Probably not. But does that mean I don’t think other people should? I’m not entirely sure I like the idea of toeing that line of freedom of speech and disrespect. If it went to a side of violence or downright bullying, then I think there’s an argument for disrespect. Booing is something entirely different. You boo when you’re at a performance if you don’t like what you see; isn’t that all this president is? He performs on a daily basis, giving fodder to everyone around him through his unleashed Twitter account.

Now, what about the “Lock him up” chant? Was that disrespectful? I would argue “no”. I would argue that this is a precedent that he created himself when he did the same to Clinton as his political rival. This encouraged his followers to do the same. I’m all for the “what’s good for the goose is good for the gander” approach. If it wasn’t disrespectful that way, then it isn’t disrespectful when it comes back to you. If it was good enough to say to another person, it’s good enough to be said to you. The point is, when you open that floodgate, you should accept it. Just like people who “applauded” Clinton’s deplorable statement about Trump supporters should accept the “scumbag” label from Trump. I think both people should be ashamed of themselves for this insulting approach because I think these terms help to further divide the country. We need to start working together, not growing further apart.

The problem is as long as people rationalize and blindly follow, things won’t change. The world doesn’t need followers right now; they need leaders. They need to know that disrespect doesn’t change because of what party someone follows. They need to know that if they say something awful that they should suck it up when it’s used back in their face. The people should stop rationalizing those grown-ass adults who are supposed to be running our country when they sling insults at each other. They should stop applauding something as “so powerful” on one side, but slamming it when it happens to “your side”. There shouldn’t be “sides”. There should only be “Americans”. United we stand… divided we fall…