It has been more than a year since I released my thoughts through the keyboard. There are a few reasons behind this, excuses really, that can be used to explain why. School had me busy, my kids have busy schedules, I worked on a political campaign that forced me to keep my opinions to myself, I began working in the real world full time... The truth is, at some point, I lost the passion.
I stopped making time to create a story to match my thoughts. I stopped caring about the deepest joy that can only be achieved through writing. I simply quit doing what I need to do for me, and got lost in who and what I needed to be doing for everyone else. Looking at myself from this perspective, I realize just how very unhappy I am - not with my life or my family, but with me for allowing myself to become so lost. However, it's not an overwhelming sense of caring that has brought the tap tap tap back to my keyboard... and an overwhelming sense of NOT caring.
I login to Facebook and all I see is uniformed political notions formed by mainstream media or off the wall internet "expert" websites. I see those who have never babysat, much less raised a child, give advice and pass judgement on parents they've never known. I see racism, sexism, and body image obsession... and then, I log off of Facebook and see it everywhere else as well. But, here is the thing.... I don't care about what you have to say about anything anymore than you care about what I have to say about anything.
I don't care if you believe that we go to Heaven when we die or if we reabsorb into the earth and eventually become cow shit. I don't care if you think that George Zimmerman was a victim when he killed a 17 year old, or if you think that the 17 year old was merely walking down the street and became the victim of a violent crime. I don't care if you think that Obama is solely responsible for the attacks on Benghazi or if you think that Bush staged 9-11. The truth is, we all have our standpoints, we all have our reasons for those views...
but just because you speak the loudest does not mean that you are
heard. YOU are not right.... and neither am I. All of it is avoidance of what is truly important in the world.
Which leads me to my next point... WHAT is important? What's important is the few years that we have on this earth, and how we choose to spend it. How we choose to treat the people that we share that time with, and what kind of people that we want to be. It doesn't matter which deity you choose to worship, it doesn't matter if you approve or disapprove of who loves who, it doesn't matter who you voted for or why.....it doesn't even matter that your opinion doesn't matter. What matters is that you look back at the end of your life and say:"I treated everyone that I came into contact with during my life with the same respect and courtesy that I myself expected to receive."
I spent Labor Day weekend - and the week following - truly coming to terms with what is important in this miniscule life of ours. I looked into the eyes of a young mother to see her raw emotion exposed. I heard disbelief and fear in a fathers voice from across the world. And, I kissed a baby that made all of my struggles and accomplishments mean nothing. In those moments - it didn't matter who the president of the United States was, it didn't matter which God you worshipped, and it didn't matter how many times a week you went to the gym or what you had for dinner. What mattered was that I dammed my tears, choked back the vomit in my throat, stood up tall, and did what I had to do for who was the most important at the time. After that week, life returned to what could be called normal for my little family. I, however, have not been able to stop thinking about the "what if's" of life.
What if there really is a Christian God that is looking down on all of us, determining right from wrong. Will He be mad at me for believing in Gay marriage and not going to church... or would He be happy with the person that I am despite of me?
What if there really is a Muslim Allah? Am I an Edeline that deserves death... or am I a good enough person in Allah's eyes to walk with him one day?
What if there is no God? Would being a good person even matter? What would determine good from bad without the morality of religions across the world? Would we just be a bunch of self servicing savages or would we still be the pack animals that humans are?
What if... none of it mattered, we kept our bullshit to ourselves, and made it our way of life to do what's best for the people that we share our brief time on earth with?
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Friday, June 29, 2012
Losing Faith
The Waldo Canyon Fire, which started on June 23rd and as of today (June 29) is still raging on, has created havoc in the city of Colorado Springs. We watched the smoke on the horizon billow into the sky for two days before a 65mph wind gust fed the flames and drove it over the ridge into the populated areas. In one day it went from about 6100 acres burned to more than 15,000 acres burned. By Wednesday about 32,000 people were evacuated and the rest of the city was weary and on high alert... just in case.
Nine days later the damage is as follows:
16,750 acres burned
346 homes destroyed
15% contained
32,000+ evacuees
At least 1 dead
About 10 missing
Every business that is open is conducting a relief effort of some kind. Donate $1.00 to Burger King and get a free ice cream cone. Lifetime Fitness is taking food donations for the evacuees. The Chapel Hills Mall has created a lounge with free food, wifi, video games, and news feeds for those that have been displaced, not to mention the countless volunteer efforts and free pancake breakfast'esqe things going on around town. Our community has stepped up to help its neighbors and it's truly been a humbling sight.
Why is it, then, that so many are being so nasty? As I stalk the local news stations for the latest information I am bombarded with posts from people that have been evacuated. I actually saw one woman bitching that her house was still standing, but she was mad because the media is allowed to go to the areas that citizens aren't. Her argument... she forgot her daughters contact lens solution and she should be allowed to go get it. Hey, if it's that important I'll make a WalMart run for you.
Instead of bitching that your daughters saline is sitting there, unattainable, why not relish in the fact that you have a home to go back to once it's safe? There are 346 families that have nothing left but the clothes on their backs and the sparse belongings that they were able to throw in the back of their vehicles. Be glad that you were able to find a safe place to hunker down, because there was at least one charred body recovered from the ashes. Be GRATEFUL for the media, they are the ones that are keeping you informed on all of the going ons, the burned areas, the evacuation areas, and they will be the ones to let you know when you can go home.
The inflated sense of self worth and narcissism in these people make me want to vomit. I understand that life has been flipped and turned upside down like a teacup ride strapped to a roller coaster, but good GOD look at the big picture! It's not just about you, it's about you and the entire city. Whether we were evacuated or not this fire has affected all of us in one way or another.. and no matter how bad you have it, I assure you, someone else has it worse. I am losing faith in human kind, when is the next shuttle to Mars?
Nine days later the damage is as follows:
16,750 acres burned
346 homes destroyed
15% contained
32,000+ evacuees
At least 1 dead
About 10 missing
Every business that is open is conducting a relief effort of some kind. Donate $1.00 to Burger King and get a free ice cream cone. Lifetime Fitness is taking food donations for the evacuees. The Chapel Hills Mall has created a lounge with free food, wifi, video games, and news feeds for those that have been displaced, not to mention the countless volunteer efforts and free pancake breakfast'esqe things going on around town. Our community has stepped up to help its neighbors and it's truly been a humbling sight.
Why is it, then, that so many are being so nasty? As I stalk the local news stations for the latest information I am bombarded with posts from people that have been evacuated. I actually saw one woman bitching that her house was still standing, but she was mad because the media is allowed to go to the areas that citizens aren't. Her argument... she forgot her daughters contact lens solution and she should be allowed to go get it. Hey, if it's that important I'll make a WalMart run for you.
Instead of bitching that your daughters saline is sitting there, unattainable, why not relish in the fact that you have a home to go back to once it's safe? There are 346 families that have nothing left but the clothes on their backs and the sparse belongings that they were able to throw in the back of their vehicles. Be glad that you were able to find a safe place to hunker down, because there was at least one charred body recovered from the ashes. Be GRATEFUL for the media, they are the ones that are keeping you informed on all of the going ons, the burned areas, the evacuation areas, and they will be the ones to let you know when you can go home.
The inflated sense of self worth and narcissism in these people make me want to vomit. I understand that life has been flipped and turned upside down like a teacup ride strapped to a roller coaster, but good GOD look at the big picture! It's not just about you, it's about you and the entire city. Whether we were evacuated or not this fire has affected all of us in one way or another.. and no matter how bad you have it, I assure you, someone else has it worse. I am losing faith in human kind, when is the next shuttle to Mars?
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
The fire still blazes on. At one point today the smoke cloud descended on the city and it was as if the apocalypse was upon us. The sky turned orange, the sun turned a neon red, ash fell from the sky like rain, and the air was so thick that it was nearly impossible to breath. It was probably the scariest moment of my life because I didn't know where that fire was.
Come to find out, it crested the ridge and came into the city. Houses are being torched, 32,000 people have been evacuated from their homes, and the Air Force Academy has sent the families to safer ground. Summer school has been canceled, sports practices are on indefinite hold, and life as we know it hovers between fear and awe.
We went to Rampart Park to stand up on a hill and get an unobstructed view of the fire. It was just getting dark, so when we turn the corner I could see the miles of flames stretched across the face of the mountain. My stomach churned, my throat closed, my eyes filled with tears and no sound could come from my mouth. I was horrified, devastated, and consumed with a feeling not unlike terror.
I've heard people say it looks like a volcano, as if lava is flowing down the cliffs. I don't disagree, but I think a better description would be that it looked as if the mountain had split a center seam and was bleeding fire and magma. Of course, this concept is ridiculous as our mountain is not a volcano, it's a batholith, but images of Dooms Day filled my mind and I felt a sudden urge to go home and hug my children close.
Now i sit here at almost midnight.. again sleep eludes me. I am running on about 4 hours of sleep already, but the smell of a campfire keeps my senses alert. I know that I'm not alone.. my Facebook wall and personal page have never been so active as they are tonight. Image after image of burning houses and fiery brush assault my view, and it's all that I can think about. I hope that if it comes to it I have time to take my pictures off the wall. I need to have my wits about me, I have to lay my head down and shut my mind off.
How will that work out? I guess we'll know if I post another blog in a little bit :/
Come to find out, it crested the ridge and came into the city. Houses are being torched, 32,000 people have been evacuated from their homes, and the Air Force Academy has sent the families to safer ground. Summer school has been canceled, sports practices are on indefinite hold, and life as we know it hovers between fear and awe.
We went to Rampart Park to stand up on a hill and get an unobstructed view of the fire. It was just getting dark, so when we turn the corner I could see the miles of flames stretched across the face of the mountain. My stomach churned, my throat closed, my eyes filled with tears and no sound could come from my mouth. I was horrified, devastated, and consumed with a feeling not unlike terror.
I've heard people say it looks like a volcano, as if lava is flowing down the cliffs. I don't disagree, but I think a better description would be that it looked as if the mountain had split a center seam and was bleeding fire and magma. Of course, this concept is ridiculous as our mountain is not a volcano, it's a batholith, but images of Dooms Day filled my mind and I felt a sudden urge to go home and hug my children close.
Now i sit here at almost midnight.. again sleep eludes me. I am running on about 4 hours of sleep already, but the smell of a campfire keeps my senses alert. I know that I'm not alone.. my Facebook wall and personal page have never been so active as they are tonight. Image after image of burning houses and fiery brush assault my view, and it's all that I can think about. I hope that if it comes to it I have time to take my pictures off the wall. I need to have my wits about me, I have to lay my head down and shut my mind off.
How will that work out? I guess we'll know if I post another blog in a little bit :/
Up In Smoke
Fire.
It requires oxygen to survive. It consumes everything in its path in order to survive. It dances, it grows, it's fascinating, it's hypnotic, it's beautiful, and it destroys everything in its path with a raging fury. Do not doubt for a moment that it is alive. It will choke you, it will deceive you, it will take everything you hold dear, and it doesn't care about your hopes, dreams, prayers, tears, or pleas for mercy.
Just outside my door there is a pillar that stretches into the sky. When I look out it's sometimes hard to decipher what is smoke and what is cloud. Along the ridge of the mountain little smoke stacks dot the horizon proving just how much the little spark has grown. Even with the helicopters and airplanes assisting the hundreds of firefighters on the ground, the four day old blaze is still only 5% contained.
I am afraid. Not for the safety of my family or for my belongings - I will get my loved ones out of danger before I let them get harmed, and everything material can be replaced - but I fear for the firefighters that are in the thick of the flames. Those brave men and women are on the mountain sides digging trenches, hosing down the areas, clearing terrains... all with natures fury surrounding them. I can't imagine the heat that such a rampant fire puts out as it is fueled by the forest undergrowth and trees. I know that the smoke, ash, and debris that is polluting their air supply. And, I can't fathom the sensation that goes through their minds when a wall of fire is right in front of them. Is it fear? Doom? Exhilaration? Excitement? A combination of everything, or something indescribable in itself?
I am afraid for the families of those firefighters. Their children, their spouses, their parents, and their friends. What do they feel when that phone call comes in and they watch their hero walk out the door? I'm married to a soldier, I thought I knew what it was like to be afraid, but as I watch this fire grow and expand endlessly I am beginning to think that I don't have a clue. When he is deployed I can avoid watching the news if I want to. I can take it at face value that he's "fine" and that all is well. I can happily listen to the tone of his voice and know that he's behind the wire and that he is just fine. I can easily fool myself into believing that he is safe and that there is no reason that he won't be home in my arms again.
The wives of the firefighters up there don't have that luxury. Every time they look to the west there's the imminent danger that is threatening their family. It hovers on the horizon, dancing and stretching its fingers further and further as if to laugh and mock them... "I am here, he is here, and there's nothing that you can do but watch me destroy everything." A friend of mine tells me that her husband is on standby, and when he gets the call he'll be out there for 14 days. I am an Army wife, I thought I was of the strongest breed of woman out there. I now know that I am wrong. My entire outlook has gone up in smoke along with thousands of acres of forest along those beautiful mountains. I'm not saying that they are stronger or that I am somehow weaker but I know that I couldn't handle watching the enemy attack my husband day after day. I've come to realize, it takes a special breed to to accept the danger that comes with loving a hero; be it a soldier, a police officer, or a firefighter. My hat is off to the wives and husbands, and my prayers are with their heroes.
It requires oxygen to survive. It consumes everything in its path in order to survive. It dances, it grows, it's fascinating, it's hypnotic, it's beautiful, and it destroys everything in its path with a raging fury. Do not doubt for a moment that it is alive. It will choke you, it will deceive you, it will take everything you hold dear, and it doesn't care about your hopes, dreams, prayers, tears, or pleas for mercy.
Just outside my door there is a pillar that stretches into the sky. When I look out it's sometimes hard to decipher what is smoke and what is cloud. Along the ridge of the mountain little smoke stacks dot the horizon proving just how much the little spark has grown. Even with the helicopters and airplanes assisting the hundreds of firefighters on the ground, the four day old blaze is still only 5% contained.
I am afraid. Not for the safety of my family or for my belongings - I will get my loved ones out of danger before I let them get harmed, and everything material can be replaced - but I fear for the firefighters that are in the thick of the flames. Those brave men and women are on the mountain sides digging trenches, hosing down the areas, clearing terrains... all with natures fury surrounding them. I can't imagine the heat that such a rampant fire puts out as it is fueled by the forest undergrowth and trees. I know that the smoke, ash, and debris that is polluting their air supply. And, I can't fathom the sensation that goes through their minds when a wall of fire is right in front of them. Is it fear? Doom? Exhilaration? Excitement? A combination of everything, or something indescribable in itself?
I am afraid for the families of those firefighters. Their children, their spouses, their parents, and their friends. What do they feel when that phone call comes in and they watch their hero walk out the door? I'm married to a soldier, I thought I knew what it was like to be afraid, but as I watch this fire grow and expand endlessly I am beginning to think that I don't have a clue. When he is deployed I can avoid watching the news if I want to. I can take it at face value that he's "fine" and that all is well. I can happily listen to the tone of his voice and know that he's behind the wire and that he is just fine. I can easily fool myself into believing that he is safe and that there is no reason that he won't be home in my arms again.
The wives of the firefighters up there don't have that luxury. Every time they look to the west there's the imminent danger that is threatening their family. It hovers on the horizon, dancing and stretching its fingers further and further as if to laugh and mock them... "I am here, he is here, and there's nothing that you can do but watch me destroy everything." A friend of mine tells me that her husband is on standby, and when he gets the call he'll be out there for 14 days. I am an Army wife, I thought I was of the strongest breed of woman out there. I now know that I am wrong. My entire outlook has gone up in smoke along with thousands of acres of forest along those beautiful mountains. I'm not saying that they are stronger or that I am somehow weaker but I know that I couldn't handle watching the enemy attack my husband day after day. I've come to realize, it takes a special breed to to accept the danger that comes with loving a hero; be it a soldier, a police officer, or a firefighter. My hat is off to the wives and husbands, and my prayers are with their heroes.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Scattered thoughts
There's a book lying on my couch. "I Wasn't Ready To Say Goodbye". It's a book on grief. It came highly reccomended by my sister. I bought it as soon as I could, I believe it helped her on the road to healing. I wanted to heal too so I bought it. It arrived a few days ago and I cracked it open. I've read about three paragraphs and I can't read anymore. The book scares the crap out of me and I'm not entirely sure why.
It's sort of like that the haunted house at the end of street on Halloween. You know the one... with the strobe lights in the window, the graves in the yard, the cobwebs in the trees, and screaming and laughing kids running away in every direction? Everyone that's gone in tells you how great it is and they want to go back, and you REALLY want to go in but you're pretty sure you'll pee yourself if Jason jumps out of a corner and chases you down with a chainsaw... so maybe you don't want to take the chance, just in case.
I've heard that authors produce their best work when they are in the depths of misery, pain, and depression. I don't know how true that is. I like to write, in fact I love to write and I've been told that I'm quite talented when I do so. I consider myself an author but I didn't write a bit after my dad died and I was pretty miserable at that point. I did write a goodbye to my nephew when he died a few months ago, but that was only because screaming into nothingness started to hurt my throat and whispering into the dark seemed a bad habit to develop.
It seems as if nobody really understands why losing him hurts so much. He was more than my nephew. We were only three years apart. He was my first friend. He's in all of my first memories. If I ever felt joy, excitement, amusement, confusion, anxiety, fear, frustration, anger... he was a part of it. Even as I sit crying while I remember, I can see his smile and hear his laugh... and it hurts me even more. I hate being in a world where he isn't. John tells me that I have to "move on". I don't want to "move on". I never want to "move on". That would imply that I am leaving him behind, and how do you leave behind such a huge part of your life?
It's sort of like that the haunted house at the end of street on Halloween. You know the one... with the strobe lights in the window, the graves in the yard, the cobwebs in the trees, and screaming and laughing kids running away in every direction? Everyone that's gone in tells you how great it is and they want to go back, and you REALLY want to go in but you're pretty sure you'll pee yourself if Jason jumps out of a corner and chases you down with a chainsaw... so maybe you don't want to take the chance, just in case.
I've heard that authors produce their best work when they are in the depths of misery, pain, and depression. I don't know how true that is. I like to write, in fact I love to write and I've been told that I'm quite talented when I do so. I consider myself an author but I didn't write a bit after my dad died and I was pretty miserable at that point. I did write a goodbye to my nephew when he died a few months ago, but that was only because screaming into nothingness started to hurt my throat and whispering into the dark seemed a bad habit to develop.
It seems as if nobody really understands why losing him hurts so much. He was more than my nephew. We were only three years apart. He was my first friend. He's in all of my first memories. If I ever felt joy, excitement, amusement, confusion, anxiety, fear, frustration, anger... he was a part of it. Even as I sit crying while I remember, I can see his smile and hear his laugh... and it hurts me even more. I hate being in a world where he isn't. John tells me that I have to "move on". I don't want to "move on". I never want to "move on". That would imply that I am leaving him behind, and how do you leave behind such a huge part of your life?
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Written For Jeremy
In Loving Memory
Jeremy Gene Sharpe
8/17/1975-10/19/2011
Beloved To Everyone Whose Heart He Touched...
He Was My Nephew.
A Day
I took a day to cry for you
I took a day to grieve for you
I took a day to lay in bed, and just remember you
It took a day, but I could just make out your smile
It took a day, but I could almost see the twinkle in your eye
It took a day, but I could almost hear your laugh
Then, I could feel again
Then, I could breath again
Then, I could feel my heart beat again
Then, I cried some more.
I know that every day without you will hurt
I know that every day without you will feel empty
I know that every day without you we will feel your loss
But I know that soon we will see you all around us
We will capture your smile on the face of a toddler doing something he's not supposed to be doing
We will hear your laugh escape from the belly of a tiny baby, pure and true
We will feel you in the touch of our loved ones
And we will smell your hair in the morning breeze after the rain
You were more than a gift, you were a blessing. Sent to us to show love, inspiration, and strength in it's purest form.
It's time to rest now, our Sweet Angel... What a beautiful life you will have now next to God.
We will miss you, today and every day.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Purple Hand
When Ellen came out of the closet I was 18 years old and extremely annoyed with all of the headlines. So she was a lesbian, why was that anybody's business? What annoyed me more than the media making such a big deal out of it was the fact that SHE had made such a big deal out of it. You didn't see Demi Moore going on Oprah saying "I'm straight!"
When I was much younger, my Auntie Nina had a boyfriend. He was really nice and I had a little girly crush on him. We moved to California and then came back to Vegas, but when we got back the boyfriend was no longer in the picture. I asked Nina why they broke up, and she simply said "Times change, people change." I accepted that, time went on, and while I never made the conscious connection, I knew that the reason the boyfriend never came back into the picture was because Auntie Nina had moved the boyfriend out of her life, and moved a girlfriend in. This never bothered me, it simply made since. I think that's why the whole Ellen thing bothered me.
In the 1980's I never saw Nina make a big production about her sexual preference (though granted I was young and there may have been one) so why the Hell did Ellen's matter? Why would it be a big deal in the late 1990's? Quite honestly, much in part to having Nina as a part of my life, the issue of sexual preference has never really been an issue to me. (I hate the term "homosexual") To grasp the idea that it can be, or ever has been to others, is something completely intangible to me. I would like to say that others are closed minded or ignorant, but I can't even say that much about them. I think it is more that they are unfortunate. Unfortunate to not have had a Nina, a Heather, a Rob, or a Mike in their lives to show them that sexual preference does not define a person... a PERSON defines a person. How on EARTH does one piece of a VERY personal part of a persons life become the basis of such discrimination?
And that, my friends, is what leads me to my "violently purple hand". (Thanks for the terminology Laura!). On Halloween of 1969, sixty members of the Gay Liberation Front and the Society for Individual Rights gathered outside of the San Francisco Examiner building and staged a peaceful protest. The newspaper had been printing ant-gay articles against the local gay clubs and they were speaking out against it. During the protest, the people inside thought that it would be a good idea to dump purple printers ink from atop the building on them. Not cool!
Covered in ink, the protesters took the opertunity to scrawl "GAY PRIDE" on the building and stamp their handprints on the walls. (Good for them!). It became probably one of the most visible shows of pride and protest of the time. Unfortunately, when the authorities showed up and arrests were made, it was not the people that assaulted the protesters but the protestors themselves that were hauled in. There was, of course, quite a bit of police brutality toward all protesters... including women. Sickening really when you think about it.
Now, playing Devil's Advocate for just a moment... they DID mark up private property... but AFTER they were assaulted!!
I guess, for a time there was an attempt to use the "purple hand" as a symbol of gay pride but it didn't stick. I chose to use the symbol simply because it felt fitting for several reasons. One, it's almost Halloween now. Two, San Francisco is a hub for LGBTQ pride now. Three my degree is in journalism and Four... it's damn interesting!! So.. what are your thoughts?
When I was much younger, my Auntie Nina had a boyfriend. He was really nice and I had a little girly crush on him. We moved to California and then came back to Vegas, but when we got back the boyfriend was no longer in the picture. I asked Nina why they broke up, and she simply said "Times change, people change." I accepted that, time went on, and while I never made the conscious connection, I knew that the reason the boyfriend never came back into the picture was because Auntie Nina had moved the boyfriend out of her life, and moved a girlfriend in. This never bothered me, it simply made since. I think that's why the whole Ellen thing bothered me.
In the 1980's I never saw Nina make a big production about her sexual preference (though granted I was young and there may have been one) so why the Hell did Ellen's matter? Why would it be a big deal in the late 1990's? Quite honestly, much in part to having Nina as a part of my life, the issue of sexual preference has never really been an issue to me. (I hate the term "homosexual") To grasp the idea that it can be, or ever has been to others, is something completely intangible to me. I would like to say that others are closed minded or ignorant, but I can't even say that much about them. I think it is more that they are unfortunate. Unfortunate to not have had a Nina, a Heather, a Rob, or a Mike in their lives to show them that sexual preference does not define a person... a PERSON defines a person. How on EARTH does one piece of a VERY personal part of a persons life become the basis of such discrimination?
And that, my friends, is what leads me to my "violently purple hand". (Thanks for the terminology Laura!). On Halloween of 1969, sixty members of the Gay Liberation Front and the Society for Individual Rights gathered outside of the San Francisco Examiner building and staged a peaceful protest. The newspaper had been printing ant-gay articles against the local gay clubs and they were speaking out against it. During the protest, the people inside thought that it would be a good idea to dump purple printers ink from atop the building on them. Not cool!
Covered in ink, the protesters took the opertunity to scrawl "GAY PRIDE" on the building and stamp their handprints on the walls. (Good for them!). It became probably one of the most visible shows of pride and protest of the time. Unfortunately, when the authorities showed up and arrests were made, it was not the people that assaulted the protesters but the protestors themselves that were hauled in. There was, of course, quite a bit of police brutality toward all protesters... including women. Sickening really when you think about it.
Now, playing Devil's Advocate for just a moment... they DID mark up private property... but AFTER they were assaulted!!
I guess, for a time there was an attempt to use the "purple hand" as a symbol of gay pride but it didn't stick. I chose to use the symbol simply because it felt fitting for several reasons. One, it's almost Halloween now. Two, San Francisco is a hub for LGBTQ pride now. Three my degree is in journalism and Four... it's damn interesting!! So.. what are your thoughts?
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