The Only Good News, Is No News

I was reading the news today, like most days. Top stories include catching the jackholes that did that god awful thing to that poor autistic kid during the ice bucket challenge. (Also, my post on the ice bucket challenge was proven true. People forgot all about that.) Then of course it wouldn’t be a news day without Ebola. Or shootings or other violence in public areas. Or other things that make you cringe and go “what the hell?” Let’s take a look at the top stories in news today.


To Abort or Not to Abort?: Last month, I was reading the monthly Cosmo. Yes, my guilty pleasure and judge me if you must. However, reading that magazine does not mean I have lower intelligence. It means that I acknowledge that sometimes you need to read mindless things to keep yourself from getting too serious. Not the point. I read a story about how this doctor was essentially sending his patients across the border into Mexico to buy “abortion drugs”. He couldn’t actually perform the abortion because of the new law that Texas had enacted, but he could fix the problem if someone took medicine to make sure it worked and was not a danger to the woman. I sat in awe. Seriously, we have amazing doctors here but we’re sending them across the border into cartel land to get a procedure that was allowed due to Roe v Wade? Why was this granted? So many women had died during botched self-procedures or shady doctors just trying to get a quick buck. Flash forward 41 years later, it seems to have reverted back. Until now, when the Supreme Court ruled 6-3 to block portions of this law. Am I pro-abortion? No, I don’t think anyone is pro-abortion. Am I pro-it’snoneofmydamnbusiness? Yes, I am. It’s the libertarian way of the government should stay out of person lives. That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? Or is it that the government needs to be small enough to fit in your bedroom? Either way, I’m glad that now the women can be safely treated for this procedure if it is their choice. I’ve been a teenager who was unexpectedly pregnant. I know what it’s like to weigh all options. It wasn’t the choice for me, nor will it be unless there is a serious medical problem. Unless you’ve been there, don’t presume to know what it’s like to be in their shoes.


Eeeeebola: Since March of this year, about 4600 people have contracted Ebola. Of those, around 52% of them died. These are stats that you can easily look up on the CDC website. Also according to the website, the only real confirmed cases in America were in Dallas. The person who died was from out of the country (my impression from the data on the site) and the recent patients that contracted it were healthcare workers that might have made “oopsies”. How is Ebola transmitted? I’m not going to have Ebola and breathe into the air and infect a whole movie theater of people, and then have my city shut down with military people barricading the place and risk possibly getting nuked. (God, I loved Outbreak.) It gets contracted by close contact with an infected person’s bodily fluids. Any other report is an embarrassment and a fear-mongering attempt that I just laugh at. I actually feel bad for the people who do not take the time to properly educate themselves. Let’s put this all into perspective. 92,000 people have died as a result of heart disease. 84,500 people have died as a result of cancer. Ebola? 1. Thanks to medical advances in America, we have death. So American news organizations, stop scaring everyone into thinking that everyone who sneezes next to you has Ebola. Report facts not scare tactics because facts save lives while scare tactics cause panic.


Sometimes Hitting Kids is Necessary: I wrote a hubpage on disciplining as a parent. I have expressed my displeasure that anyone who dares to spank their kid is an evil source. A person replied to me by informing me that I was wrong when I spanked my oldest child when he was younger and I had damaged him. There is a fine line between discipline and abuse it seems. If you’re quick to smack your kid over every little thing, yes that will absolutely cause significant damage to their mentality. Now, if you spank your kid twice in a span of 9 years that is not going to cause huge harm. They say “oh well that excuse of I was spanked and I turned out fine means nothing”. Let’s look at a fact here, because I love facts. When we were kids, would we have dared to fill a bucket of disgusting bodily fluids and film ourselves dumping it on a kid with autism? Heck no, our parents would have slapped us silly and locked us in a room without anything but staring at walls for months at a time if we dared. Today? I bet there are thousands more incidences just like that because no one wants to discipline their children. That’s why children are growing up to be crueler than ever. We were bullied as kids, but no one was ever bullied enough to cause someone to kill themselves. Even more, not enough to go to their wake and spit on their dead body. Maybe there is a correlation between discipline from younger generations to older ones and why there is such a rampant amount of adolescent misbehavior. Because, guess what? They grow up to be miscreant little shits and no one wants to take responsibility for that. If your kid is a little shit, look in the mirror because it’s your fault for allowing that behavior to get so bad that you lack any control of your children. You are not their friend; you are the person who is supposed to be molding model citizens with the capabilities of changing the world for the better. I keep thinking about if my son is autistic and this happened to him. Part of me would do unspeakable harm to them while the logical part of me realizes that little punks are worth the jail time. I hope they get the book thrown at them, because they are disgusting people. And then I want to know how their parents feel about it, because learned behavior does exist and I wonder how much they learned about teasing an autistic kid they learned from them.


Sorry for the length of the post, but it was all necessary to get it all out.


Since I was little, all I’ve ever wanted to be was a writer. I read all the time and when I wasn’t reading, I was writing. When I wasn’t writing, I was sketching or sculpting. I’m a creative person and I find when I’m unable to focus on something that revolves around accessing this creativity, I become anxious and irritable. It’s been a need more than a want almost as if I was an addict for it. A slow and downward spiral occurs the longer I go in between projects or finishing a project. Then I lose a groove I started on a project and I sit staring at it wondering what I was thinking when I started that project. (Hence, the name of my short story and poetry collection will be named “Wondering What I Was Thinking”.) Then I have to go back and piece everything together making projects take double the time I intend. (Also, hence why I’ve promised a new published piece and haven’t quite gotten it done.) Finally, I think I’m there with it. I just need a cover, an interesting one my amazingly talented with a camera husband will get for me. Hopefully.

I’m stuck though. I wonder when I’ll know if I’ve officially failed my dreams of writing. I wonder when I’ll know when to throw the towel in and call it a day. I wonder when I’ll know what failure really is. I wonder if people even take it as seriously as I do. I doubt it though, I wonder if people just find it silly that I even bothered to try. I wonder if I should just give up now, even though I know I haven’t given it a real honest attempt. Or have I? I’ve blogged for nearly 2 years now, a Hubpage for 2 months, and only have published one novella. It’s been a minor success, I’ve sold 3 stories and my Hub has been featured 13 out of 16 times which seems to me to be a big deal. Maybe these are signs that I should re-shift my focus and go full force, hell or high water. I’m sure giving up my mere 3 hours of sleep a night for hard work and dreams might do the trick. I do better sleep deprived and in less than sound mind anyways.

When we’re stuck in a crossroads, Frost asked us which path do we take. I always figured that the beaten path seemed like a boring place to be, but I hate not knowing what’s going to happen. Don’t we all though? Some people when people say when they are expecting that they don’t want to find the gender because life has so few surprises as it is. That’s a lie, life is full of surprises. We’ll see what road I eventually take, and I hope it brings me peace and happiness. For now, I’ll venture down this “road less traveled” and hope for the best.

I Fear Them More Than They Fear Me

I went to take a nap yesterday, and when I moved the curtain away from the fan, something fell. All I could think of was “EEK! A SPIDER!”. I did what any rational person with irrational fears would do: I called my husband, begging him to save me from this maybe spider, and when none was found, I slid down the bed and went to sleep in the fetal position at the bottom of the bed. I admit it, I’m a “scaredy-cat.” No, I think I go a little beyond a simple “scaredy-cat”. I tip-toe that fine line between “scaredy-cat” and “irrationally phobic personality”. So, today I’ve decided to share my ridiculous fears to get them out there. Sure, I’m sure you’ll laugh reading them but that’s ok. I’ll probably laugh at how crazy they sound as I read this aloud.

1) Spiders. And anything else creepy crawly. I hate spiders, though I”m definitely getting a lot better. If I see a small one, I’ll smack it down and pretend I’m hardcore. I’m not, any spider bigger than an ant gets me to cower like a little baby. And don’t get me started on anything with a stinger or that looks like it has a potential to. And I have nightmares of earwigs, those things are just incredibly terrifying. Why do they need those pincers? Just to look like menacing ugly things? It works. And you can tell me a dozen times not to run away from a hornet, wasp or yellow jacket because it doesn’t help, but I’ll do it anyways because I really just want to get away from those things. I’ve never been stung and I don’t intend to start now.

2) Anything “too high up”. This might seem like a rational thing, not too many people aren’t afraid of being too high up. I assure you it’s just more insane than you  think. I do get freaked out looking out a 14th floor window. But I have trouble looking through on escalators because I’m “too high up with little protection”. So that adds another “afraid of escalators”, but that really doesn’t need it’s own paragraph, since the only real reason I’m afraid of it is watching myself go “too high”.  I plan trips around “which escalator am I least afraid of”. Stairs count too, I’m definitely afraid of certain stairs because of how high up they go and that I can see myself go up them. (Enclosed stairs are ok, those ones with the glass windows are not.)  This is probably what I’m the most afraid of.

3) Amusement park rides. You’d think the height would be what makes me terrified of these things, you’re wrong. Every creak on a ride, I freak out. I imagine the ride stopping abruptly, or just collapsing right there with me on it. I don’t like the feeling of being shaken around, swung around, or just not being in control of what’s happening to my body. I hate them, I think they are death traps, and when my son and husband are on them I close my eyes so I wouldn’t have to watch something happen to them.

4) Clowns. When I was younger, I was forced into watching “It”. I remember being instantly terrified of these clowns. I also remember having to sit through “Killer Clowns from Outer Space”, and it sent me over the edge. I then remember having my room decorated into a “circus” theme, and I remember having nightmares that the clowns in my room were going to come and kill me in my sleep. It was a rough time. I don’t remember when the clowns went away, and I don’t remember why. I’m glad it’s gone. I still close my eyes and see the room though, and it still gives me the creeps. Clowns, you aren’t happy or awesome. You are scary creatures, scary and freaky and ugly creatures.

5) Murders, Robbers, and Creeps oh my! I live in a nice area, where nothing of not really ever happens. Even still, I’ve watched enough television and movies to know that places that are quiet little holes in the walls are more likely to have shocking crimes happen to them. I obsessively check locks to make sure no one can come in and kill me or my family in my sleep. I make sure that my sons are not kidnapped, and that they are still breathing. Then I repeat that cycle a few times just to make sure. This is probably my most irrational of all of my fears, which says a lot because they are all a little silly.

Those are really just the top things that scare me. Mostly those are the only ones that I’d consider as “insane” fears. I’m a neurotic person with a few crazy irrational fears. That doesn’t make me less of a person; merely it makes me uniquely me. Share your thoughts, fears, and a laugh at my expense. I look forward to it.

When Television Hits Home

I definitely enjoy television. Maybe too much. My evenings are dedicated to sitting around with my loved ones and watching shows together. I’m not discriminatory about the shows I watch; I appreciated anything moderately well written, entertaining, and moderately well acted. I enjoy some crime procedurals, mostly comedies, and a few assorted others. I enjoy getting lost in a good show as much as I enjoy getting lost in a movie or book. Sometimes the more mindless and questionable the humor, the more I enjoy it.

Sometimes though, you see a show and you relate to it. Most of the time something happens on a sitcom and you say to yourself “well crap, that happened to me this morning” and laugh along with the main character because you know exactly how that it. I suppose that’s why sitcoms are so relatable: the deep down core of the story is something we’ve all experienced in some form. Most of the time the characters themselves are just more attractive versions of us laughing their way through crazy families and when the daily routine goes wrong. We laugh, hoping it doesn’t happen to us or we laugh because it has.

Sometimes though, those pesky dramas we watch tug at our hearts. I’ve become a big fan of that new show “Monday Mornings”. It’s by David E. Kelley, who’s known for his colorful and eccentric characters tossed into dramatic shows. I’ve been a fan of his since I first saw Ally McBeal. I can’t stay up for the show so I usually entrust it to my beloved DVR, and watch it later with my husband. This past weekend was that later. (I’ll try not to spoil it.) There, they  had an infant about 2 months old going into surgery. They showed the little thing getting wheeled into the OR attached to tubes, and I looked at my little baby. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

It’s becoming more real that I have to see my son like that. I don’t think about it normally, it makes me a little sad when I do. Next month I see his surgeon for the last consult before the big day in June. I know I need to keep my calm, I know I’m known for that. I’ll probably make inappropriate jokes to mask my nervousness, though the procedure is routine enough. In the back of my head, I’ll constantly be thinking of “people die all the time during routine procedures”. A doctor has a difficult job because if they have a bad day, it can cost a person their life. I try not to think about it, and I know it seems silly since I should have nothing to worry about. The image of him being wheeled into the ER will probably stick with me until it happens, and will probably haunt me after. People say that God doesn’t give you more than you can deal with, but I wonder if that’s some lie we like to tell ourselves to gain strength. I don’t care though, something tells me I’ll need every little bit wherever I can get it.

I Feel As Young As Ever

Yesterday was my birthday, the good ol’ 29. Not quite 30, and still another year to enjoy my 20’s. A friend on Facebook said “I hope you don’t feel almost 30, because I do”. My response: “Eff that, I feel as young as ever. Mostly because I’m too tired to feel”. He said he was going to steal it, but I just stole it first. To prove my point, when I originally read it, I thought he had said “I hope you don’t fear 30, because I do”. Which I had a response for that too: “I don’t fear 30, 30 should fear me”. It’s true, it should. I’m kinda a b-word.

I can’t complain, my 20’s were certainly a lot better than my teens, but being of legal drinking age probably helped that a lot. I don’t really feel older though. Maybe wiser, definitely more seasoned. I still feel like I’m young enough to take on the world. When I was 18, I was afraid of the big 3-0. When you’re young and stupid, you think your life ends when you’re married with kids. While your life as a person who can do whatever you want whenever you want is over, life is still full of fun and excitement. Though admittedly my idea of a thrill is the Russian Roulette I play while changing diapers. The minute I think I’m safe, I end up with a painting on my shirt washed off with urine. Luckily with age, you also gain a level of patience. And more of a sense of humor.

30 isn’t really old anymore. You’re still young enough to not have wrinkles and grey hair, but you’re too old to shop in the juniors department with any shred of respect. Now you’re the “old lady trying to look young”. In your 20’s, you easily get a pass on this. Not 30 though, now you have to figure out a whole new style of clothes. It’s also at this age that getting faceplanting drunk because it’s trashy and not cool. We’re definitely way too old for bar hopping. until 2 a.m. And this also means we’re too young to be unemployed without any attempt towards a goal, but way to young to sit around watching soap operas and eating loneliness as if we’ve given up in life.

I’m excited for what 29 will bring me. Hell, I’m even excited to see what happens at 30. I keep looking for wrinkles and passing off as someone in my early 20’s. I’m ok with it. I’m trying towards everything I want in life, and I realize that I won’t sell 100 novels in a day starting out. I’m even sure that I won’t sell 100 in 6 months starting off. (Don’t forget, the link on the side will allow you into my first long short story.) I feel accomplished though because I tried, and will keep trying towards this goal. I feel accomplished because I have 2 amazing sons that are growing up very well as smart and mostly healthy children. Not to mention, I have hands down the most amazing husband in the world. Don’t be afraid of getting older. If you embrace it, you’ll realize that every chapter of our life brings something exciting. Getting old and grey doesn’t mean you should be sad, you get to retire and enjoy your grandchildren. Life goes on, and you shouldn’t sit back and give up when you still have so much to go. Life’s too short to squander it.

That’s So Random

The first note to start of my unorganized random thoughts edition of today’s blog, I’d like to point out that I enjoy shamelessly promoting my first venture into sucking it up and publishing a story. You should enjoy buying it too, and for only $0.99 you didn’t really lose more than the equivalent of what change falls out of your pocket weekly without you knowing. Enjoy!

My first random thought brings me to the school shooting. I didn’t want to read the list of names of the victims. It’s not that I didn’t want the event to be humanized to me, as what the real intent of releasing those names to the public. It’s partly because it seems to me like it should be private, that these people should be allowed to mourn without having it all over the internet that their kid died. The reminder of those Christmas presents under the tree should be bad enough, they shouldn’t have to see the names everywhere they look. Plus, the selfish part of me admits I didn’t want to look and see my son’s name on that list because that would make it more real, and I didn’t think I could handle it. Against my better judgement I did look, and I did see my son’s name. I read the little note about him, I saw the picture. From then on, I realized more and more that could’ve easily been my son’s school and that could’ve been my son. It wasn’t though, and you can’t help but to feel guilty by being extremely happy for that. Sending him off to school made me be a little nervous, but unfortunately you can only do so much to protect your children, even if you are there every second.

My second random thought also is bordering about the shooting. I can’t help but be happy that Anonymous decided to hack into the Westboro Church member list and make it public to us. I won’t feel guilty if one of those bigoted loud mouths gets hunted down and killed, and I know I shouldn’t say things like that aloud but I mean I can’t be the only one who thinks that. It’s bad enough they go to our soldier’s funerals to protest for no other reason than to make themselves relevant, to protest these innocent children makes me wish that they had to go through the pain. Maybe it isn’t that God hates gay people, maybe God hates intolerance.

The Patriots were terrible last night and I fell asleep at halftime again. Apparently they became less terrible but not quite good enough to make up for all the terrible. The refs are terrible too, but I won’t blame them for the loss. The terrible calls by the refs didn’t make up for all the bad the Patriots did to themselves. I still love my team though, and they’ll do better next week.

My baby is growing up, rolling around on the floor like a champ and lunging forward. He’s a strong little bugger, and it’s hard to keep him down. It’s both awesome and sad to watch them grow so quickly. I love every second, and know that he’s doing so well because he has the love and care of people around him. There are worse things than growing up too fast. He’s very well mannered and just as perfect as his brother. So far (knock on wood), I’m 2 for 2 in the angelic children category.

In the end, you can’t protect your kids or shelter them forever. They are eventually going to find themselves in a position that is scary, they are eventually going to hear things on the news and they are eventually going to ask questions or be told things at school that go against our beliefs. You just have to make sure that you did your best to prepare them mentally for anything that they might come across on the news or in life. That’s our jobs as parents, to protect and prepare.

Pride and Trepidation

Before I get into my post, I would like to say how proud I am of my older son. Today as part of his student council duties is collecting canned goods for the student council food drive to help our local soup kitchen. The fourth grade seems to be winning their competition for what he called “the best prize of all: the warm fuzzy feeling of helping people in need”. I don’t know what I did, but I must’ve done something right. That boy will change the world I think.

Now that we got the “pride” part of our title out of the way, I enter into the “trepidation”. As my last post pointed out, I was terrified at the idea of publishing my chapter-ed short story. I always tell my son, “sometimes no matter how afraid you are, you need to suck it up and dive head first”. That post made me realize that I said a typical parental hypocritical statement. How could I tell him “you can be anything in the world you want to be if you want it enough” and “just hold your worries and do it” if I wasn’t going to do the same. As parents it’s our job to show our children that you need to always aim higher to accomplish goals, no matter how impossible it seems. Teaching your child to settle for what they have in life, to me, teaches them that they don’t need to dream and that settling for mediocrity is ok. (I know I’ve said this point a dozen times, but it needs to be emphasized.) It’s never ok to settle.

I took this to heart, and took and deep breath and uploaded my story to Kindle epublishing. Yes, I am officially published. So you can own this piece of art for only $0.99 on the Kindle. Don’t have a Kindle? Get a nice Kindle app on your phone, iPad, other tablet, etc. The title you ask? “Teagan” by Brianne LaRochelle.

I’m terrified. I’m afraid that I failed at that the story is crap and people will insult me and I’ll decide to give up instead of getting better. But if I didn’t just suck it up and do it, I’ll never know if people actually will enjoy it. I’d never know if following my dreams of writing would pay off. Most importantly though, I’d never be able to tell my sons that “mommy was scared, and she did it anyways.” Our actions, as unimportant as they seem, will always affect our children because they look up to us to show them everything.

Is The Story Ever Really Finished?

Last year, I finished my 12000 word “novella”. It was supposed to be part of National Novel Writing Month, but I didn’t quite reach the minimum they had if you recall last year’s post about it. (See here for a refresher: I realized that I happened to finish the story I wanted in much shorter words than I was supposed to. To add things would’ve fluffed up my story in a way that would upset me.

Shortly after, I decided that the story was 100% done. I announced that my hard work was completed and the encouragement I received was awesome. I intended shortly after to put it up for sale on the Kindle, but it never seemed good enough. I sent the story to a few trusted people and got lost. Between a pregnancy made me too tired to work on more editing at first, then just made it too uncomfortable to sit down and fix it at the end, it seemed like it would never get done.

Now I wonder if I stalled it. Maybe I was just too scared of critics and reviews and anything negative that could possibly deter my dream of finally just publishing this. The story has a bit of “fart” humor to it, and it’s not always appreciated. Maybe people would think I put too many sarcastic lines or too many lines that might insult or gross out and think people would think it was unnecessarily overdone. It’s always fear of criticism of others that holds us back.

I constantly reread it. I’m at a point where I couldn’t even fix grammar problems because I’m “too close” to this project. It seems like an extreme form of procrastination that it took a whole year to feel like it’s really ready for the public. So ideally within the next week or 2, I will just close my eyes and upload it and hope for the best. Even 20 sales will exceed my expectations and be encouraging. And if I do get too caught up in how long it took to get to the publishing point, at least I can look at George RR Martin. One year for a 12000 story seems equivalent to how long we’ve waited for A Dance With Dragons. Let’s hope I build up the courage to do this.

If I Close My Eyes, It Didn’t Exist

It seems appropriate for my first week of “whatever snazzy title fits a teen mom Friday”, that I start from the beginning. It’s always harder to understand the ending if you never learned the start, and I don’t think that the way this story starts is much different from the way any of these sorts of stories start. I’m sure the closure of that “my story isn’t unique” is something that would relieve both the reader trying to understand or currently in those shoes and myself as the writer of the story.

High school isn’t a fun place to be. We’d like to tell ourselves how fantastic it was to tell our children the lies of glory days that never really existed. Even the most perfect of the popular ones had a hard time, and I’m pretty sure they’d be lying if they denied it. Whether you put pressures on yourself or let people around you influence you, sometimes even the strongest seems to cower under the pressure. Even the most chaste of your classmates were giving in, and if you even made it to Senior year without giving in, it was a miracle. In looking back, this reinforces a belief that people are fools to think abstinence is the way to teach teenagers about sex, because the more informed they are the better off they are going to be. Teaching abstinence isn’t going to prevent teenagers having sex anymore than anti-drug “Just Say No” programs or anti-bullying programs prevent drug use and bullying. I think as adults, people forget these truths.

The worst part happens when you find yourself in a bathroom with a pee-stick in your hand and realizing that in 5 minutes, your life had completely changed. It’s not enough to walk the school halls with your secret nestled away in your brain while trying to forget it happened. It was a mistake, the test was wrong. I’d never had regular periods, that was what was affecting the test. 5 months wasn’t too excessive to be without, it will go away if I don’t think about it. It doesn’t go away though; eventually you need a plan.

My plan was simple, to just run away from the fact. I saved up my extra money from work, and worked more hours than I probably should as a high schooler. My graduation money had finally brought me to the amount I needed, and shortly after I had moved out. My parents couldn’t kick me out if I was already out when they found out, right? All the TV shows of that time with that situation had the parents kicking their stupid slut of a daughter out, while I didn’t really know anyone else in my shoes. If I had known then what I know now, things would’ve ended up completely different I imagine. It turns out, I didn’t give my parents enough credit and even today have a close bond with their little surprise child. I’m lucky though, not everyone is that lucky.

In this first part of the story, I hope people understand that sometimes things need to be talked about to your kids. I also hope teenagers realize that instead of running, they should try to talk it out with their parents. You never know how it’s going to turn out, and parents are never short of their surprises. Parents love their kids, good parents love them no matter what.

It’s All In Perspective

Parenting brings out different ideals and morals in a person. You see things in the way you hope your child will see them and are more aware of the things you say. With my first child, I definitely learned to watch my language at least in speaking out loud. You also learn that every action you perform, they learn. They learn everything from you, but I think that mostly you learn from  you children.

With my new addition growing inside, I notice that I’m more aware of certain issues this time around that I didn’t need to worry about with my first. My first son is a majority, a white male. My son waiting to enter the world will likely have more challenges we’re both going to have to walk through for the first time, since this society is still a society that struggles with race issues and people who are different. My unborn son will have to hold his head high while slurs are tosses at him because he’s Asian. They’ll hold the skins of their eyes and make a squinty face to imitate him, and mispronounce words because that’s what they see on TV.

Even more, I think about the internment that took place in World War II. I think about the terrorist attacks and how that made our country view Muslims. I get scared thinking about those things, because it makes me wonder what happens if we end up in a war with North Korea. I worry that my children and husband will be taken away just because their lineage is Korean. I worry they’ll get thrown down stairs, have eggs tossed at them, have our house vandalized because we live in a closeted xenophobic society. And by closeted, I mean hidden as well in the closet as Clay Aiken was.

More logically, laws similar to the one being discussed about immigration in Arizona and how if they become widespread how that will affect my family. I would’ve said before who cares if they want to pass a law they think will work though it will probably make racial profiling acceptable. Now I sit there and think, “how do I feel that a law like this means that my child can be pulled over just because he’s Asian and needs to prove that he’s American. Do I need to make him carry around his birth certificate so some tough guy cop doesn’t bully my child?” Lawmakers say that it won’t increase racial profiling, but that’s like saying it just seems like anyone with tan skin and a beard gets stopped more at airport security.

I hope for the sake of my children that I’m being skeptical and paranoid. Maybe things will change between now and then, and maybe I don’t have to worry about the cruel world I’m bringing them into. I can hope that I raised them well enough to not retaliate violently and stand up for themselves in a positive way. Mostly, I can hope that the world is a little more tolerant in the future.