Tiller

George Tiller's murder saddens and disgusts me.

I mourn. 

I mourn that a man was killed.  I mourn that he was killed in his church - a place associated by many with safety and refuge.

I mourn that this murder will only serve to polarize the views of the majority of the people who hear about it.

I mourn that so much that brings grief is done in the name of God - my God.  So much that I think is antithetical to His Name and word.

I am disgusted that so many are rejoicing at his death. I am disgusted at the crass, vulgar, inhumane, and hateful way they show their "love" of life.

I am disgusted that this event will give ammunition to those who despise those they label as anti-choice.

I can understand the passion that both sides of the abortion issue hold.  I do not understand the violence that takes place as a result of this disagreement.

And that's all that I can put words to tonight.

May tomorrow bring grace. 

(His mercies are new every morning)

May tomorrow bring peace and gentle, respectful conversation.

Two lists

What I would like to do with the rest of my day:

• Make and eat mini-place-and-bake-cookies, because they are nom nom good.
• Watch 'Dial M for Murder,' which came from Netflix.
• Watch 'Wall*E,' which I bought for cheap the other day.
• Finish "Girl Meets God," which was a gift from a friend and I am half-way through.
• Eat a delicious meal prepared by other hands, which I cannot afford right now.

What I should do with the rest of my day:

• Clean the toilet.
• Put away the dishes I just washed when they dry.
• Decipher my adviser's handwriting and make changes to the proposal chapter I finally got back from her.
• Change my address with a few remaining agencies/publications.

List #1 would be more fun.

List #2 would be more grown-up.

*sigh*

on torture

One of the gifts my parents gave me was the fact that they meant what they said. When they said bring up your grades or you'll be punished, they meant it. I didn't bring up my History grade, and so I was punished.  When they said "I love you," I knew they meant it.

Stephen Colbert says that he won't let his kids watch his show so that when he tells them that he loves them, they won't think he's being sarcastic. (See this interview at 3 minutes in.) To me, it's the same principle, and it's a very important gift to give your children.

As an adult, I want people to mean what they say. I use sarcasm sometimes, and I may even fall back on it too often, but I hope that the people in my life believe me when I say the important, and even not too important things. 

I want justice to be upheld. I want to know that the law has power. I want to know that the justice system will work for me, my parents, my sisters, my future children, and everyone I love. I want to know that when a law, and its corresponding punishment, is written, voted on, and enacted, it has power. It means what it says. 

"Here is what you should do.

Here is what will happen if you don't."

"Here is what you should not do. 

Here is what will happen if you do."

This is why I believe that those that ordered, authorized, and justified torture should be investigated, prosecuted, and punished if found guilty. 

Because if those laws, agreements, conventions, and standards of decency do not mean what they say for those at the highest levels of our government and military, then they have no meaning for the rest of us. 

And I am not OK with that. 

(To say nothing of the fact that I am not OK with torture at all. )

I want to live in a country in which it is possible to be an idealist, and not to have to resort to defeatism and disillusionment.

and now...

I can't sleep for fear/in anticipation of a re-run of last night's dream.

frick.

I've got Dumbledore running through my head - "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

Of course, it could be caffeine. But that seems too easy of an explanation. 

last night

In my dream, he was in charge of organizing a fireworks display.
While he was telling me about how they wanted a 2 hour show, the fireworks company could only do an hour and a half, and how many people they were expecting, and about the busses to bring people from their cars to the waterfront, I suddenly realized that my arm was draped around his neck and his hand was holding mine, and oh, his hands are soft, and my, it feels nice to be pulled against his side like this, and those butterflies in my stomach get agitated when he looks at me like this, and why don't I just rest my head on his arm, and yes, even though this is a dream, that sounds JUST LIKE his voice.

oh no. 

this is only a dream. 

rewind. play.

rewind. play.

rewind. play.

rewind. play. 

soak in every detail. revel in this feeling, for you will wake up to an empty house and the memory of the boy who held your hand, in a dream.

(I'm pretty good at emo, huh?)