Here’s to the girls on the highway who hit the gas pedal much harder than they should. The girls with cackles for laughs who rev up their engines, and smile like tornados.They don’t walk, they don’t even run. They crash into everything that comes into contact with their wildfire souls. Approach them with caution, love them, or hate them, but you should know one thing, you will never be able to extinguish them.
And if Michael Brown was not angelic, I was practically demonic. I had my first drink when I was 11. I once brawled in the cafeteria after getting hit in the head with a steel trash can. In my junior year I failed five out of seven classes. By the time I graduated from high school, I had been arrested for assaulting a teacher and been kicked out of school (twice.) And yet no one who knew me thought I had the least bit of thug in me. That is because I also read a lot of books, loved my Commodore 64, and ghostwrote love notes for my friends. In other words, I was a human being. A large number of American teenagers live exactly like Michael Brown. Very few of them are shot in the head and left to bake on the pavement.
Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.
One group of people is decidedly happy about the militarized response in Ferguson: those who work in the weapons industry. The array of police forces–the Missouri State Highway Patrol, the St. Louis county and city police and local Ferguson officers–that descended on the largely black Missouri city have used the products these corporations are selling in abundance. Tear gas, rubber bullets, smoke bombs, stun grenades, armored personnel carriers, sound cannons and high-caliber rifles have all been deployed to quell the unrest, though they have contributed to anger over police tactics.
-best friend had her baby a month ago & I have yet to call her because I am the actual worst. I have one friend. One. & I still can’t do it right.
-roommates moved out on us. Still not sure why.
Pros: daily underwear dance parties, records turned up to 11 & not feeling like I’m living in a morgue.
Cons: fucking bills & hurt feelings.
The house is still in disarray but as soon as they were gone the house was instantly cozier. I can actually feel comfortable in my OWN house, for the first time in my life. This is huge for me. I am now fully aware that the attitude/grumpiness/piss poor nature of those I have lived with has always effected me. I shouldn’t have to curb my happiness because of other people.
-girl at work asked me to do her save the date signs because she loves my hand writing, which I have always hated. To the point of not keeping journals ~literally only because of my handwriting. So that made my smudgey little left hand feel good about herself.
-$$$ flow at work has been too good. I am getting paid to test wines & cocktails, receive botany lessons, do floral arrangements, play in the veggie garden, create chalk board menus while jamming to the 50s&60s station & eat all the turkey avocado wraps. The wine & lobster sells itself.
-started writing a piece about the unbelievably misguided, hurtful, obliviously ignorant comments my coworkers & I have overhead about what’s happening in Ferguson. Working in South Saint Louis & being privy to unfiltered dinner conversation has given us an insight to how the city feels about the murder and protests. & it is atrocious. Be on the look out for that over the next few days.