Monthly Archives: November 2015

What Are you Waiting For, Boston?

I don’t usually do politically charged posts, but what the hell? Boston is also planning to raise the legal purchasing age for Tobacco products to 21. And as always, the main response is, “What, so an 18 year-old can vote and die for his country, but he can’t smoke?”

Right, couple of things. Unless that 18 year-old is wearing Army fatigues, or currently in basic training, he isn’t fighting for shit. And yes, he can vote, so that means he has ample opportunity to get his entitled ass down to Beacon Hill and vote against this bill so he can smoke his tiny little brains out.

I for one have nothing against raising the smoking age to 21, because I know for a fact that it won’t stop anyone from actually lighting up, regardless of their age. But it would be especially interesting to actually see if the people in charge of enforcing the law actually bother to check ID’s and write the tickets.

My Only Birthday Wish

Inspired by my friend, Ned, there is one thing I would ask for the day of my birth, which is just around the corner.

Be a better listener to your friends, family, and anyone else who just might need you to be. You don’t need to have the answer to everyone’s problems. Sometimes, you just need to listen.

That would mean more to me than all of the birthday wishes and gifts combined.

A Gathering of the Minds

Any social gathering is going to be filled with uncertainty. Did I arrive too early? Did I spend enough time talking to the host? Did I say the wrong thing to that one person? Am I eating or drinking too much?

It’s why I’ve limited my socializing to groups I actually know, or want to make an effort to get to know. These are people who usually have already shown some semblance of tolerance for my quirks, so that I’m willing to support their artistic endeavors, or offer my services as muscle if they need things moved or carried.

Not too coincidentally, I will also refuse to associate myself with people who have only shown me tolerance to my face. When my back is turned, or I am not there, and it comes to my attention that someone is speaking ill of me, what am I supposed to do?

I could ask them; awkwardly confronting them and maybe costing me their friendship. I could ignore them and wait for them to catch me in public, so that I could feel free to tell them why I’ve been distancing myself, which is in no way less awkward. Or I could just cut them out of my life entirely, which seems to be the safest choice.

My most recent adventure took me to a gallery showing of a well known Salem artist. If you’ve seen the paintings of a black cat in various Salem locales, you will have seen this artist. Her husband was also featured at this gallery, and I made the journey to the reception because they also allow the use of their shop to the writing group, of which I am now a member.

I feel like I did everything good etiquette requires of me in that situation. I showed up, complimented the art work, helped myself to coffee, and made a few people laugh in the course of conversation. I figure if I make someone laugh, that’s a good impression.

Sometimes I wonder though.

I Don’t Know Who You Are (NSFW)

Recently, I had this little exchange on Twitter. You see, a certain little shit who lives nearby me is currently on trial for raping and murdering his math teacher. No, I didn’t go to that school and I didn’t know that teacher, but I was working at Target in Danvers, where at least two of the kids who also worked there were students at the high school where this teacher worked.

It’s a terrible thing to happen, but what made it personal to me was the fact that someone I cared about was deeply effected by this. As nasty as things have been in my own high school. So when I saw the kid’s name in my Twitter trends, I posted this:

Not to anyone in particular. It was in my trend, so I realize it’s because I live in the North Shore that I was seeing this. But I felt strongly about it and acted within my rights to vent my feelings. Then this bitch runs her mouth, whom I won’t even give the honor of identifying by name, because I’m sure in the grand scheme of things that will be construed as harassment.

Apparently YOUR FRIENDS are tweeting about it…time to do some detective work &figure out WHO!!!

I did do some detective work. And the woman who wrote this tweet isn’t even from the North Shore. She’s a “mystery” writer. The only mystery is what gives her the right to flap her gums at me. I only saw one comment in her feed related to the murdering prick, and nothing in her Twitter suggests that she even has a dog in the fight related to the subject of which I was referring to.

The main point of this particular post is don’t fucking tell me what to post. And if you tell me what to post, don’t act like you’re so high above me that telling me you’re going to block me is some big devastating blow.

Better Than My Enemy

Over the next few months, I will hear things that bother me; in articles in the paper, discussions in the news, and conversations in public. My urge to throttle some people will be strong, but I will not act on that urge to condemn or to harm someone because of their personal beliefs.

When I was living Burlington, I had coworkers who were of the Muslim faith, or came from the Middle East. One of those coworkers worked at the same airport job, no less. The biggest threat either of them ever posed to me was when they would hog the employee microwave when I was trying to get some food into my system during my precious thirty to forty-five minute lunch break. Why am I making a joke about this? Because in the coming months, we are going to need to have a sense of humor. When and where it is appropriate will always be a matter of personal taste, but history has shown that those of us who can still find a reason to laugh are the ones who have the strongest grasp of the seriousness of the situation.

I will go on record as saying that I feel a great sense of sadness for those who still choose to pray in the direction of the East, because I know that while they don’t all share the extremist views of our Enemy, they will still be condemned by their equally extremist neighbors.

But I ask readers to consider this: Our Enemy is making war on our way of life, our belief system, and whatever it is that their own personal beliefs seem to justify making war on. If we make war against the entirety of the Muslim faith, as they make war against the entirety of the Christian faith, we are lowering ourselves to the mentality of our Enemy.

Make no mistake, this is a war. Our retribution should be with the mentality of punishing a group of terrorists for committing an act of war. If my Enemy attacks me and mine, I will do what is within my power to protect myself from that Enemy. But I will not attack the Enemy simply for his beliefs, because that is what will make me better.

Now she’s only my baby sister in the metaphorical sense…

A little girl just became a young lady today. I thought of all of the songs, and I thought of the lines that could perfectly say how I feel. But that would be plagiarism, and every time I tell my little sister that I love her, I want the words to be as true to me as the feelings behind them.

You are my moral compass, my partner in crime, and my baby sister until the end of time.

Happy birthday,

Mollie.