Thursday, February 14, 2008

A Bit Too Chilling

My heart goes out to the people effected by the shooting in Illinois today. The fact that people are sometimes very senseless and selfish still astounds me. A part of me hurts that to hear about shootings on the news every six months is almost commonplace; schools and universities have evacuation plans in for shooters  - it doesn't feel like people should have to live or prepare like that. 


The reoccurring nature of shootings got me thinking. I blog about music, and music listeners leave me comments. I write about poetry, and other poets read my writing.

I googled "how to be a columbine shooter" tonight. The fifth, 5th, hit on the first, 1st, page was called "Super Columbine Massacre RPG!" (Take special care to notice the exclamation point.) Curiosity got the best of me and I clicked the link. The page contains normal data links for downloads and directions for players of the "game." What is most chilling is the game description: "This game delves into the morning of April 20th, 1999 and asks players to relive that day through the eyes of Eric Harris and Dylan Kleblod, those responsible for the deadliest school shooting in American history."

How humanity can come to this is beyond my comprehension. The producer of this savage site is obviously intelligent. Only someone truly atrocious and intelligent could matter of factly state that he or she wants users to "delve" into the eyes of monsters. The unremorseful nature of the description, although sickening, makes the nature of these copy-cat shooters more clear - but never acceptable.

I was raised to respect guns because I was also taught to respect the sanctity of life. I understood that guns were not bad, that guns were a good thing in the right hands. They were for protection and for the hunting of food. I still feel that way. I knew what guns were capable of because my mother and father took the time to teach me. I knew this mostly because I grew up in a family of police officers. My dad was a cop, my uncles were cops, and my cousins are cops. Had I not injured my knee, the police force would have been a heavyweight fighter in my career choices.

When I was fifteen, I learned that my father had killed a man in the line of duty while the man was holding an apartment complex hostage. In doing so, my father saved the life of another officer. I am, always have been and and always will be proud of my father for this. Taking such action takes courage. My father knows he did the right thing, so do I. But, my father made sure to teach me that people deserve to live, and that life is precious.

Events like today do not want to make me ban guns. Events such as today make me want to help legislate access to guns and who gets them. I do not have a gun right now, but that's because of where I live. I will have a gun in my home though. I am not afraid of them. I am afraid of what would happen if someone tried to take my life, or the lives of those I love, and I was not properly equipped. People in Australia learned what would happen; when the right to bear arms is removed and people are forced to turn over their guns only one thing happens - the good, law abiding citizens turn over their arms and the bad people keep theirs.

Stupid, angry people make stupid, angry decisions with guns, true, but they would have made a stupid, angry decision no matter the access to materials.

I pray for humanity tonight. I pray that those who suffer, not just in Illinois, might be comforted. I pray that people will be smart and aware of the inherent value of life.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Find a Happy Place

Sometimes, being happy is a battle for me. I imagine myself as a stanch fighter in some kind of war, like the war at the beginning of "The Lord of the Rings" movie, fighting against the powers that would make me unhappy, because the key to happiness lies just on the other side of the opposing army. A weird picture to be sure, but that's what happens when you're a dork with an overactive, visual imagination.


Last February 14th, I was realized I had depression. Two days later, I was diagnosed with severe depression and severe anxiety. Writing, or saying, this on paper or out loud is not difficult when I share my experience with a trusted few. I knew that I would inevitably share this particular trial with many. And for some reason, I feel the need to share tonight.

The two months prior to that fateful day, and the three months after, were the hardest in my life. I have never known despair to that extent. I felt hopeless, helpless, miserable, and empty. I had nothing to give; I could only take.

But, and this is a big but, because I knew sadness to that depth, I knew that I could also experience happiness to that degree, and more. 

There is a stigma in many cultures, particularly in the Utah culture, that the word depression is a synonym for crazy. I think this is why I don't share my experience with many. I am not ashamed of myself, but leaving the sacred parts of my life open to the judgements and sneers of those who choose not to understand is difficult.

I heard once that we should not share sacred experiences with many, because they lose their sanctity, much like I shouldn't tell someone I'm in love with them when I really am unsure of my feelings. And although my trial with depression is sacred, I refuse to let an unhappy memory have power of my life. Instead, I choose to let it be a secure foothold in my life. A place where I know I have strength, courage, and experience so that it cannot be an unhappy memory anymore. Depression has been replaced with wisdom and love.

There are many things that help me now. I don't feel the need to share them. I just want to illustrate that sometimes my happiness is a choice and a battle. Today was a difficult day to keep fighting though.

The past few days have been really tough. I missed an extremely important grad school deadline and almost forgot another. I still have no idea what to do with my life after August, I feel like I'm in limbo, I feel like I can't do anything right, that people have no faith in me, and that if they do have faith in me that it's a wasted effort, and that all things that I have been trying to do "better" lately have been for naught. I feel depressed.

Maybe it's the time of year or the fact that the sun hasn't been out in a really long time, maybe I'm fighting what I'm supposed to really be doing instead of what God needs me to be doing, maybe I don't know what I really want. Maybe it's P.M.S.

I don't know. 

What I do know is that writing about this helps me. Sharing my experience does too. Maybe that's all I need to know right now.