Southernisms & Country Sayings

It’s not a secret that the part of the US known as the South has its own peculiar accent. In actual fact there are probably as many variations on the Southern accent as there are farms & small towns in this particular part of our country. As someone who loves linguistics & studying various accents, it annoys the heck out of me when TV shows & movies try to do Southern accents & almost invariably get them completely wrong.

Anyway, it’s come to my attention lately that we do indeed have some unusual phrases, or “Southernisms” as I like to call them, here in the South. If you Google this topic, you’ll find all manner of odd things that might make you question our sanity if you aren’t from this part of the world, so today I thought it would be amusing to create a list of some of the phrases I heard often as a child growing up in a very rural area in Virginia. A few of these I still find myself saying today, & I’ve definitely been questioned as to their meaning by some of my friends & coworkers who are not originally from the South.

A common theme you’ll notice with these phrases is that many of them are rooted in the farming history that is so prevalent in the South. A few of these may not be uniquely Southern, but some of them definitely are.

Making a mountain out of a molehill
- Making a big deal out of nothing
- “She didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, dear. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
Don’t amount to a hill of beans
- Doesn’t amount to anything significant
- Quite often this is used in a similar context as the first phrase, as in: “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. It don’t amount to a hill of beans anyway.”
Laid an egg
- Laughed really hard
- “That movie was so funny that I laid an egg.”
Living high on the hog
- Having a wealthy person’s lifestyle (sometimes by living beyond your means)
- “Ever since she moved to the city she’s been living high on the hog.”
The devil’s beating his wife
- Raining when the sun is shining
- “Well, we might get a rainbow tonight. The devil’s beating his wife again.”
Living in high cotton
- Same as living high on the hog
Pitching a hissy fit
- Throwing a tantrum
- “You can pitch a hissy fit all you want, but I’m not buying you any toys today!”
Running around like a chicken with its head cut off
- Running around or generally acting crazy, often because you have too much to do at once
- “Getting ready for that wedding last weekend, I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”
Going all around Robinhood’s barn
- Taking the long route, could be geographically or metaphorically
- “Whenever I drive with my uncle Luther, we always go all around Robinhood’s barn to get anywhere.” [This is 100% true, by the way. :)]
As the crow flies
- Going in a straight line
- “It’s only 20 miles to the city as the crow flies, but with the mountains what they are around here, the roads don’t exactly run straight.”
Gets my goat
- Makes you really angry, irritated, or annoyed
- “It really gets my goat when people talk about me behind my back.”
Over yonder
- Over there somewhere, could be across the room or upstairs or down the street or half way around the world. My Granny used to say this all the time, so I always think of her whenever I hear this phrase.
- “I think I left my book over yonder, dear. Can you go look for it?”
Can’t carry a tune in a bucket
- Can’t sing at all
- “I don’t know why he wants to join the choir. He can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
His/her elevator don’t go all the way to the top
- A “nice” way of saying someone isn’t very smart
- “I guess we shouldn’t be too hard on her. Her elevator don’t go all the way to the top, ya know.”
Sweating like a whore in church
- Sweating a lot, particularly may be used to describe a situation in which a person knows they are guilty
- “When the teacher asked who had stuck the tack in her chair, Billy started sweating like a whore in church.”
As dumb as a bag of rocks
- Pretty self-explanatory, this one just means someone is dumb
- “Poor Ted, he’s as dumb as a bag of rocks.”
Don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground
- Also used to describe someone who isn’t very smart, particularly someone who is very oblivious
- “I don’t know why we expected him to understand what was going on. He don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”
Madder than a wet hen
- Very angry
- “When I told Wanda I’d accidentally broken her favorite china dish, she was madder than a wet hen.”
Bless her/your heart!
- Basically this little phrase absolves the speaker of guilt for saying something negative or derogatory about someone else. It might also be used as a passive-aggressive response to someone who says something you don’t find very intelligent or useful.
- “Poor Brenda, she’s always sticking her foot in her mouth. Bless her heart!”
Don’t count your chickens before they hatch
- Don’t depend on something before it happens or don’t get your hopes too high about something that is unlikely to happen
- “I know you’ve got your heart set on playing professional baseball, dear, but you best not count your chickens before they hatch.”
Too big for your britches
- Taking yourself too seriously or acting stuck up or snobby
- “I know you just won Homecoming Queen, but don’t let yourself get too big for your britches.”
Directly (or, as it usually comes out, “dreckly”)
- Soon, immediately, right now, or in a short amount of time
- “I’ll come over to see you directly; just gotta finish these beans here.”
- P.S. When I was a kid I heard this all the time & I knew what it meant, but it took me years to figure out that the word people were actually saying was “directly;” it just wasn’t pronounced that way.
Hold your horses
- To be patient or wait for something
- “Just hold your horses & stop asking when we’ll get there.”
I’ve got a mind to . . .
- To desire to do something
- “I’ve got a mind to go to town tonight & get my weekly shopping done.”
Scarce as hen’s teeth
- So rare that it probably doesn’t exist
- “A girl as pretty as that & smart & kind-hearted too . . . Well, that’s as scarce as hen’s teeth.”
Well, I reckon . . .
- To suppose or guess
- “Can you rake up some leaves with me today, Joe?”
  “Yeah, I reckon I can do that.”
A wild goose chase
- Looking for something that doesn’t exist
- “In order to get her out of our hair so we could plan her surprise party, I sent her out on a wild goose chase.”
All get out
- To the utmost degree or the best
- “She’s as smart as all get out.”
Like white on rice
- To stick close to something or someone
- “As soon as she comes to town, he’ll be all over her like white on rice.”
Beat around the bush
- To not say something directly, often to avoid hurting someone’s feelings
- “Don’t beat around the bush. Does the dress make me look fat or not?”
A bee in her bonnet
- To have an obsession over something, particularly to the point that it makes you agitated or irritable
- “She’s got a real bee in her bonnet about this new school board ruling.”
Make water
- To urinate . . . This is one I heard a lot when I was a nurse in SW Virginia after I graduated from nursing school.
- “I hate taking these Lasix pills because I have to make water all the time when I’m on them.”
Swimmy-headed
- Dizzy or feeling like you might faint . . . I only heard this one when I was living & working as a nurse in SW Virginia. I’d never heard it growing up, but somehow when I started to hear patients describing dizziness this way I instantly knew what they meant.
- “I started to feel all swimmy-headed & the next thing I knew I woke up on the floor with the paramedics standing over me.”

To end this post I’d just like to say that yes, I do have a bit of a Southern accent. It definitely comes out on certain words like time & kind & things like that. And I definitely say ain’t more than I really should & occasionally throw in a few of these possibly bizarre idioms that you’ve just read about above. However, I also have an extensive vocabulary thanks to the fact that I’ve always been such a voracious reader, & furthermore ever since high school I have made a concerted effort to speak clearly & succinctly (aka actually enunciate!) so that people can easily understand me even if English isn’t their first language. One of my college professors once told me I was the most sophisticated person he’d ever met from a small town, & even though some people might take that as a backhanded compliment I’ve always thought it was a rather flattering thing to hear.

In any case, I don’t think I’ll ever be proud of being Southern the way so many people are because I’m far too aware of the many negative things about this part of our country, but I also make no apologies for occasionally sounding like a redneck or a country hick, for lack of a better way to put it.

Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed this short exploration into Southern/rural culture. Feel free to comment with any unique expressions or sayings you’ve heard in your part of the country/world. I’d love to hear them.

And in final conclusion, check out this song from Kacey Musgraves which includes one of the phrases in this blog post. I think anyone who’s reading this who, like me, grew up in a small town but left it to explore the world beyond will be able to relate to this song.

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The Eternal Struggle

Do you ever feel like you’re fighting a battle in your own head between the side of you that wants to love everyone & be kind & peaceful & wonderful & the other side of you that wants to throw your hands up & say “To hell with it” because there is just so much negativity in the world that trying to be positive sometimes feels like entirely too much effort?

The Yin and Yang of Good and Evil

If you’re at all human, I think the answer to this question will be a resounding “YES!” After all, if this isn’t the eternal struggle that we all face, I don’t know what is.

Lately this struggle has become more & more apparent in my own mind, for a variety of reasons I suppose. In any case I end up feeling like I vacillate between being a modern day version of a hippie who wants to save the world & a grumpy old lady who can’t comprehend why the world just doesn’t make sense anymore. To be perfectly honest, if living in this world doesn’t make you angry at times, then I have to seriously wonder about your sanity.

To expound a little further on this internal battle, the “soft” loving part of me sees all the negativity & pain in the world & seeks to find ways to soothe these wounds. The gentle part of me sees a nasty, hateful person & wants to hug them & tell them that life has been far too cruel to them & they don’t deserve the misery they’ve suffered. The “angel” in me goes out of my way to give food to the homeless, to open the door for strangers (particularly if they’re elderly or struggling to manage a baby or young children), & to generally be a calming, reassuring presence in an often chaotic world. This softer side of me sees a sunset or looks up at the stars or lies in my lover’s arms & knows that this, THIS is exactly why I’m alive. And it’s enough to offset all the sorrows & struggles that life inevitably brings.

But then there’s the other, “colder” part of me that sees all the negativity in the world & just wants to scream. Natural disasters are frightening & often tragic, but those I can handle to a certain degree because I know they’re inevitable; they’re clearly beyond our control as human beings. It’s the pain we cause ourselves that’s most difficult to watch: the wars; the violence within our society; the drug use; the physical, emotional, & sexual abuse that we use to tear each other apart; the divisiveness that pervades our society & constantly tries to polarize us into an “us vs them” mentality; the complete disregard for logic that the average person displays in their daily life. THESE are the things that make me feel like a grumpy old lady who proclaims the world’s “going to hell in a handbasket.”

To be a little more specific, here are some of the things that have really been griping me lately:

America’s cultural acceptance of obesity
The fact that the average American couldn’t find Afghanistan on a map (or globe)
Women (& men) who follow fashions (In case this seems superficial & you’re wondering why, it pisses me off that the same people who wouldn’t have been caught dead in skinny jeans five years ago are now wearing them on a daily basis because magazines & stores told them they were cool, & furthermore these same people won’t be caught dead in those same skinny jeans five years from now when they’re no longer cool anymore . . . I have two fashion rules & they’re very simple: If I like it, I’ll wear it, regardless of whether it’s in style or not. If I don’t like it or if it’s unduly uncomfortable, I won’t wear it, no matter how popular it is. Why anyone would ever choose to make getting dressed any more complicated than this is beyond me.)
Pop music
Women who constantly complain about the dearth of good men in the world but also hold absolutely no standards for the men they date (aka have sex with)
Men who think it’s ok to stare at random women or make inappropriate remarks to them just for the hell of it
In case you’re wondering why pop music makes me angry, this quote explains it.

I could go on & on but for the sake of not sounding too much like a “Negative Nancy” I’ll stop for now.

Here’s the thing that I’ve realized about this eternal battle that we all face within ourselves: both the softer & harder parts of ourselves are desperately needed in this world. There are legitimate reasons to be happy & there are legitimate reasons to be angry. And we cannot be either one of those things all the time. It’s all about balance. There are no negative or bad emotions. There are only emotions & what we do with them. Indeed we could not appreciate the “good” without the “bad.”

I consider myself a humanist so I truly do believe that as human beings we have the power to effect a lot of positive change in this world. And I truly believe we are the masters of our own destiny.

But I also believe that most of us do a really shitty job of exercising the power that we have over our own lives. Please know that I am equally guilty of this at times, or I wouldn’t feel the need to write this post. As I’ve mentioned before, I write this blog principally for myself, to maintain my own sanity & mental wellbeing. If my musings somehow inspire others, that’s just icing on the cake, so to speak.

So my message to myself & to anyone who happens to be reading this today is this: stop fighting against yourself. There are going to be days when you look at the world & ponder how lucky you are to experience all the wonders & joys that life can bring. And then there will be other days when you just want to scream & pound your fists against the wall. And there will be many more days on which you vacillate between these two extremes over & over throughout the day. That’s just life. It’s all a part of being human, & it’s ok. As long as we’re alive on this earth, we’re going to face this internal struggle between the so-called “softer” & “harder” parts of ourselves. The thing to do is to recognize the struggle & let it happen. In other words, don’t fight it; let it fight itself. None of us can ever be happy & peaceful & loving all the time. Because of the evil that exists in this world, there are times when we really do need to be angry & frustrated because that is what pushes us to make a positive difference in this world. Sometimes it’s this anger at the injustices in the world that gives us a reason to keep “fighting the good fight.”

So don’t let anyone ever tell you that your anger is a sin. Life is all about balance. None of us will ever be perfect at finding that balance, but that just gives us a reason to keep trying.

I’ll end today’s post with what might be my favorite song ever by In This Moment. Even if you don’t normally like their music, I implore you to give this song a listen. I find it so inspirational & empowering that I seriously question your humanity if you can listen to it & not be moved in some way.

Here are the lyrics:

I don’t need you to save me
I don’t need you to cure me
I don’t need you
And your antidote
For I am my disease

I don’t need you to free me
I don’t need you to help me
I don’t need you
to lead me through the light
For I will always fall

And rise again
Your venomous heroine
‘Cause I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter

I will fall and rise above
And in your hate I find love
‘Cause I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter

I will not hide my face
I will not fall from grace
I’ll walk into the fire, baby
All my life I was afraid to die
But now I come alive inside these flames

You don’t want me to love you
You don’t want me to need you
You don’t want to look at me,
For you will turn to stone

You don’t want me to hurt you
You don’t want me to bite you
You don’t want me
Or my aching soul
For I will only fall

And rise again
Your venomous heroine
‘Cause I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter

I will fall and rise above
And in your hate I find love
‘Cause I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter

I will not hide my face
I will not fall from grace
I’ll walk into the fire, baby
All my life I was afraid to die
But now I come alive inside these flames

I don’t need you to save me
‘Cause I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter

I will not hide my face
I will not fall from grace
I’ll walk into the fire, baby
All my life I was afraid to die
But now I come alive inside these
‘live inside these
‘live inside these flames

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On Hometown Violence & Tragedy

As some of you may know, there has been a lot of turmoil in my hometown over the past few weeks, everything from fatal car wrecks, teenage suicides, a domestic violence turned murder/suicide, & a teenager shooting his grandfather (thankfully not fatally). Despite having my own blog I try to maintain a bit of anonymity because the world really is a scary place, but I will say that one of these incidents hit very close to home for me & my family & thus these past few weeks have not been an easy time for us.

For those of you who don’t know me in real life, a bit of context may be needed. To clarify, I grew up in a very small town in central Virginia, the kind of place with one elementary school, one middle school, one high school (with about 700 students total), & literally a handful of stoplights in the whole county. It’s the kind of place with more churches & hunting clubs than restaurants or places of business. We didn’t even have 911 until I was at least 16 or 17. And, no, I am not making that up!

The Visitors Center in my hometown

Anyway, some people from my hometown, maybe even some of my own family, will probably not like this post, but I feel like I have to write it for my own sanity. I apologize in advance to anyone I offend; please know I’m just expressing my own emotions at this difficult time.

Every time something violent happens in my hometown, there is always an outcry in the community about how unexpected & unaccountable it is that such a thing could happen in our “peaceful little town.” And every time, I have to ask myself why people are surprised at these things because I am not. As I’ve mentioned several times before on this blog, Agatha Christie was so accurate when she observed (through her character Miss Marple) that every kind of evil in the world is just as easily found in the smallest village as it is anywhere else in the world. I’m not surprised when violent things happen in my hometown because I could easily tell you all kinds of scandals that have happened there just in my lifetime. Small towns aren’t any more wholesome or peaceful than anywhere else in the world. Anyone who thinks so is just kidding themselves as far as I’m concerned.

Small towns are a great place to live if you go with the flow, don’t buck traditions, don’t ask a lot of questions, & don’t mind everyone knowing your business before even you do. But I’m not that kind of person, I never really was, & I never could be even if I wanted to be. My brain just isn’t wired that way, so I guess it’s no surprise that I never really fit in there & probably never could. To those of you who are wired more like I am but manage to live in my hometown, or the thousands of small towns like it, kudos to you because I’d have lost my sanity a long time ago. You’re clearly much stronger than I.

I’ll be the first to admit that growing up I didn’t give a lot of thought to leaving my hometown. I was so sheltered that it wasn’t till I was in high school & started going to band competitions in other parts of the state that I began to realize what a different world I was living in than “everyone else.” And even then I wasn’t really fired up about leaving like so many of my classmates were. How ironic then that so many others who were desperate to get away are exactly the ones still living there now with no real plans of leaving while I on the other hand left for college & basically never looked back . . .

Anyway, it’s at times like these that I’m especially glad that my husband & I managed to escape our hometown & have made every effort to ensure that we never end up back there. I’m probably a horrible person for thinking this, much less admitting it, but in all seriousness one of my greatest fears in life is that for some reason or another I will end up living there again someday.

I don’t know how to admit these things without sounding like I hated my childhood or that I have zero affection for my family & my hometown. None of those things could be further from the truth. However, I can’t help but want something different for my own future children. It’s not that I resent my parents for raising me how & where they did because I don’t. I just want my kids to experience a different way of life. I want them to grow up around kids from all kinds of cultures. I want them to attend schools that give them more options than I had. I want them to grow up somewhere that they don’t have to leave in order to get a decent job that pays enough that they can support themselves & their families & pay off any student loans they may have. Are these things too much to ask? I don’t think so.

I’m not naïve enough to think that where I live now is perfect or that anywhere in the world is. There is certainly no utopia on this planet, & I know that no matter where I end up raising my kids someday they won’t be immune to violence, gossip, bullying, teenage pregnancy, poverty, closed-mindedness, or any of the negative things that I associate so strongly with my hometown. The world is far from perfect & is indeed often a scary, violent place. But every fiber of my being tells me that where I am now is where I need to be & will give me a better shot at raising my children the way I see best.

I’ve probably already offended enough people, so I might as well go ahead & offend a few more . . . The other thing that drives me batty about how my hometown reacts to such turbulent events as we’ve recently experienced is the incessant call to prayer. I’m not saying people shouldn’t pray; I’m just saying maybe our focus should be on putting some actions behind those prayers. Furthermore, maybe we should start asking ourselves the difficult questions that no one wants to ask, like why our teenage pregnancy & poverty rates are through the roof, even for the central VA area. Maybe we need to start focusing on ways to reduce these phenomena because whether we like it or not they are statistically linked to a lot of really negative outcomes, including violence. Additionally, maybe it’s time that we figure out why race relations in our town are still far from acceptable. I know I can’t be the only one who’s noticed that.

To those of you who still live in my hometown & are trying to make a positive difference, my proverbial hat is off to you. There is a part of me that feels like a traitor for being so negative about my hometown, yet I can’t help but see it as a place full of unfulfilled dreams, broken hearts, & stagnancy. Please know that I don’t think everyone who lives there is a waste of space & miserable. I just know that I couldn’t be happy there anymore. And I know that having prayer vigils isn’t going to solve any of our problems; it’s just going to make us feel better momentarily . . . until the next tragedy hits us.

Ok, that’s it for today. I hope that you’ll forgive me for my blasphemy, but I know I can’t be the only one feeling this way.

P.S. If I really didn’t care about my hometown, I wouldn’t have bothered to write this post.

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On Gender Roles in the Modern Era

When it comes to gender roles, whether in relationships or society in general, I often find myself in a bit of quandary. Despite the many negative connotations that the word tends to bring these days, I do still consider myself a feminist, mainly because there are countries & societies in our world in which women still have very few, if any, rights (e.g. Saudi Arabia). However, much more importantly I consider myself a humanist because I see value in all people, regardless of gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, or any other such factor, & I truly believe in our ability to better ourselves as individuals & the human species as a whole (although I’ll admit we are woefully bad at this much of the time, but that’s a topic for another day). I also have no difficulty recognizing & no problem admitting that men face their own unique challenges in this world in which we inhabit, particularly perhaps in modern America (& other similar societies). I’ve touched on that subject before on this blog & will certainly revisit it again someday, hopefully in the not too distant future.

Anyway, one of my greatest strengths (& weaknesses, at times) in life is that I’m a great analyzer. I’m constantly observing the world around me & the people in it. Even as a kid, I quickly realized that I was considerably more analytical than the average person. In any case, one of the many things I find fascinating to observe is how other couples handle gender roles in relationships.

For context, I grew up with parents who on the surface held fairly traditional gender roles in that my mom did most of the traditionally feminine housework like cooking & laundry while my dad did most of the traditionally masculine chores like mowing the yard & taking out the trash. However, one of the things I’ve always admired about my parents is the flexibility they modeled in their relationship. For example, my parents almost always did the dishes together every night (bizarrely, they to this day do not have an automatic dishwasher). Furthermore, in some cases my mom actually took on a more traditionally masculine role; for example, she was more of the disciplinarian between the two of them, while my dad was the softer-spoken one who in some ways could be considered more nurturing, which is of course generally considered a more feminine trait.

The other couple whose gender roles I observed a lot as a child/teen was of course my grandparents. In their case, they had much more strictly defined gender roles, & even as a child I couldn’t help but notice that this seemed (to me) to create some friction between them at times. I’m in no way questioning their love for each other; I’m just saying that like almost anything else in life, a lack of flexibility often leads to resentment & a lack of understanding between parties. Hell, you can even observe this in old TV shows like I Love Lucy (a show I watched religiously growing up) in which the characters have very strict gender roles.

As it turns out, I intentionally married a man who has a very different personality than my dad (& is perhaps more similar to my grandfather, now that I stop & think about it) while still maintaining a strong work ethic & commitment to our relationship, like my dad has towards my mom. This is not meant as any offense to my dad; I just knew even at a young age that I needed someone with a much “stronger” (for lack of a better word at the moment) personality than my dad. I was a pretty damn insightful teenager, let me tell you that!

Now that I’ve tooted my own horn a bit, I can get down to the real point of this post, which is this:

When it comes to gender roles, particularly in romantic relationships, the best advice I can give anyone is just do what comes naturally to you. If in 90% of relationships this means the woman does more of the cooking & laundry & the man does more of the yard-work & car maintenance, so be it.

The point is that you work together as a TEAM to get the needed work done & that you have a flexible attitude so that no one ever says “I can’t do that. That’s YOUR job.” Yes, I do more dishes & laundry than my husband, while he mows the yard & handles the taxes, but the point is that none of this stuff is set in stone. If I’m working three nights in a row (those are 12-hr shifts, mind you) & my husband sees that the dishes & laundry are piling up, he’ll start them without even being asked. And you better believe I love & appreciate him so much for that, just as he appreciates when I take out the trash or pitch in with some of the other chores that he typically handles when he’s busy at work or out of town.

When it comes to raising kids, I’m probably going to be a lot more traditionally feminine than perhaps I want to admit. There is a part of me that cringes at the idea of being a stay at home mom, yet there is a larger part of me that cringes at the idea of trying to raise babies & toddlers while also working full time. (I’m thinking working part time is the best solution to this dilemma.) I just can’t wrap my brain around trying to stretch myself that thin, especially since our family is in another state. Plus there is a huge part of me that feels like if I’m going to invest so much of myself into being pregnant & going through labor, then why the hell would I let a daycare raise that child? To be even more blunt, why would I bring life into this world & then not spend as much time with it as humanly possible?

Hey, there is a lot of truth in this . . .

Believe me, I understand that most families cannot afford to have a stay at home mom (or dad). And I fully anticipate that I will end up working part time when we do start a family because, if for no other reason, I don’t want to lose my nursing skills by leaving the workforce entirely, even just for a few years. I also think all adults need a certain amount of adult interaction to maintain their sanity . . . Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that while I’ve only in the past year or two really embraced the idea of motherhood, I’ve quickly found myself anticipating a more traditional mom role than perhaps I’d have predicted in years past.

And the greater point is that while many, if not most, women will agree with me on this subject, some may not, & that’s ok. On the same token, most men will not want to be stay at home dads, no matter how much they love their kids. But some may. And that’s ok too.

The final point here is that while we can make generalities about both genders & the roles each tends to fulfill & the personalities each tends to model, at the end of the day we are all human beings & as such our commonalities are much greater than our differences. Furthermore each person, regardless of gender, should be evaluated on his or her own merits & not forced to fit any particular mold, whatever that may be. I’m a bit of a rebel myself in some ways so there is a part of me that always loves those who buck trends & say “screw you” to stereotypes, but I’m also smart enough to realize that there is nothing wrong with fulfilling traditional gender roles, as long as you’re doing so out of your own natural desire & inclination.

Lzzy Hale is definitely a role model for me in some ways. She's gorgeous & feminine in some ways but also a total badass.

Lzzy Hale is definitely a role model for me as a modern woman. She’s gorgeous & feminine in some ways but also a total badass.

In conclusion, I’ll never be the girl who wears a lot of pink, frilly dresses, stilettos, or tons of makeup. Hell, at 26 I still can’t even put on eyeliner competently. I swear too much & talk too loud to be lady-like, & I listen to lots of heavy music that could definitely be considered masculine. When it comes to exercise, I hate running, yet I love lifting weights. But I also play the flute & piano, perhaps the two most quintessentially feminine instruments on Earth, & I chose to become a nurse, one of the most quintessentially feminine careers on the planet. Even as an adult I collect stuffed animals, & if/when I become a mom someday I sincerely hope I’ll always place my children above my career. The point is I like to think I embody a fair amount of both traditionally feminine & traditionally masculine ideals, & I also like to think I’m better off because of it.

And the greater point is that regardless of our gender it shouldn’t define us or enslave us. If we choose to embrace the more traditional roles of our given gender, that’s fine. And if we choose to do the opposite, that’s fine too. Neither choice is right or wrong, only different. When it comes to gender roles & relationships, each couple just needs to figure out what works for them & make the best of it. As I’ve stated many times before, there is no one prescription for success in life. If someone else’s journey looks different than yours, that doesn’t mean theirs is wrong & yours is right or vice versa.

As my final conclusion, if there’s anything I hope to convey in this post today, it’s this:

Be real. Be human. Be you.

And walk away from anyone who can’t handle any or all of the above.

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Why Nurses Cry: Musings on the Loss of a Patient

Recently I found out that two of my former patients died. Yes, like many other nurses, I scan the local obituaries every so often looking for names I recognize. I don’t know why I do this because it inevitably leads to a few tears if I see the name of a patient I really liked, & this happens a lot more often than you might think. But in an odd way I think reading these obituaries also brings me a bit of closure because it allows me to know that a person whose suffering I witnessed first-hand is now freed from their earthly turmoil.

This situation definitely left me with a few tears in my eyes even though realistically I know that death was the best option for both of these patients. I know most people view death as the enemy, but one thing I learned very early in my nursing career is that death is NOT always the enemy. When people are suffering the way these folks were, death can actually be quite the opposite. And what pains me more than anything is when patients are not able to experience a dignified death that is as peaceful & painless as possible. Things are slowly improving but unfortunately hospice & palliative care services are still very under-utilized in our society. (As some of you may know, I actually volunteer with a local hospice group because I feel so strongly about the importance of hospice.)

Anyhow, all of this got me to thinking about the many times I have cried as a nurse, both on the job & at home when thinking about my patients after work. It happens less frequently than it used to because I’ve learned to develop more of a “shell” to help protect me . . . This doesn’t mean I’ve become hard-hearted & insensitive (someone please tell me the day I do so I can turn in my badge). But as a nurse I’ve had to learn to balance my own mental sanity with showing compassion towards my patients & their families. Throughout my life I’ve often been told I’m “sensitive” & that I “wear my heart on my sleeve” (who comes up with these expressions?!), & while I certainly hope to never lose that side of me, I’ve had to learn to “buck up” & withstand a lot of things that I probably couldn’t have faced years ago.

At this point in my career, I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve seen someone die. I’ve lost count of the number of dead bodies I’ve touched & cleaned up to send to the funeral home. Since I’m not an ED or ICU nurse I don’t see a whole lot of codes but even so I’ve still lost track of the number of codes I’ve assisted with. And I could probably write a whole book about the number of times I’ve helped prevent a code from happening, for example by recognizing that a patient was dangerously hypoglycemic & giving them D50 (sugar water) in their IV to raise their blood sugar or by recognizing that a patient was in pulmonary edema & needed IV Lasix STAT to pull the fluid off of their lungs, just to name a few . . . Notice a pattern here? Nurses really do save lives, y’all. Doctors are great & I have a huge appreciation & respect for the work they do. But seriously, until you’re a nurse you have no idea how important nurses are. There is a reason we are called the backbone of the healthcare industry. We as nurses are the ones watching your lab values, your vital signs, your telemetry (heart monitor), your I&O (fluid intake & output), & your mental status (among other things) like a hawk. More often than not we are the ones recommending/telling the doctors what needs to be done . . . Again, I am not trying to take away from the important work that doctors do. I’m just saying that one of the biggest reasons I do not regret choosing nursing school over medical school is that I see on a daily basis just how big of a difference I really make.

Whew, that was a tangent that I wasn’t intending to go on, but, hey, it happens sometimes. Anyway, when I see that one of my former patients has died (or when a patient dies under my care), there is always a small part of me that feels like all of our hard work to save them has been in vain. Realistically I know that most of these patients are coming in with so many different medical comorbidities that the chances of them surviving, or at least surviving with any real quality of life (which is after all the more important factor), are low. But every once in a while I find myself thinking “Gosh, so much of what I do is just keeping people alive for a few more days, weeks, or months, usually with a great deal of suffering involved, until they inevitably die.”

But then I remember that maybe in those last few days or weeks or months they might have gotten to see their grandson who lives all the way across the country for one last time. Or maybe they got to witness another grandchild get married or graduate from college. Or maybe they just had enough time to adequately say good-bye to all of their loves ones (as best as possible) & vice versa. And maybe in the midst of all off their suffering, pain, & fears I was able to provide a calming presence, a small balm to ease their wounds. Or maybe I was able to help their family understand their loved one’s disease process & how to prepare for their loved one’s death.

All of this brings me to the main point of this post. As long as I’m a nurse, my sincerest desire is that I never lose that sensitive soul, that compassionate drive which inspires me to do my best for my patients. I know at times I am not able to grieve for my patients the way I want & need to because I just have to keep on moving to take care of the rest of my patients. And I know at times I may seem hardened or callous because I don’t cry every time a patient dies or receives a bad diagnosis or because I laugh at things that non-nurses would find revolting. But as I said, as nurses we do have to harden ourselves a little bit so that we can make it through our shifts. Trust me, it’s a fine line, a very fine line, we walk trying to maintain our own sanity while still providing truly compassionate care to the patients & their families entrusted to us.

My challenge to myself & to anyone who’s reading this who is also a nurse (or any kind of healthcare worker) is this: next time you’re caring for a patient, particularly if they are “challenging” or “difficult” for whatever reason, take a moment to consider that there is probably a higher chance than you’d like to admit that the time you’re spending with this patient might be some of their last days on Earth. With that in mind, may we all strive to be the best advocates we can be for our patients & to provide the most compassionate care we can, knowing ours could be the last voice they ever hear, our hand the last they ever hold on this planet.

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To All of You Freaks Like Me

To expound a bit on the beginning of yesterday’s post, may I just say once again how much I cannot stand modern country & pop music?

Why am I harping on this again? Well, today I cleaned out my closet, something I’ve been meaning to do for a very long time, & took some clothes over to Plato’s Closet. I was pretty sure they would reject most of the items & I’d end up taking most of them to the thrift store, but I figured it was worth a shot anyway. While I was at the store waiting for them to look over my stuff, I was forced to listen to some of this godawful modern country & pop . . . And I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I became angrier & angrier the longer I was in that store!

As I said yesterday, I haven’t listened to the radio in months so I guess I’ve been away from this kind of music long enough to forget just how bad it really is. Stuff like this & this just make me want to scream. I mean the lyrics, not to mention the music itself, are just so BAD!! Then there’s Luke Bryan’s That’s My Kinda Night & Florida Georgia Line’s Sippin’ on Fire which to me are the epitome of everything that is wrong with modern country music . . . Yes, they’re catchy songs, but catchy in no way equals good. More often than not I think the catchier a song is, the stupider it is. If you really think about it, a song that is both lyrically & musically sound is probably NOT going to be super catchy at first. Indeed most songs that say something worth hearing are NOT easily digestible, at least on first listen. One could easily say the same for books & most other kinds of art.

Yes!! I’m only 26, folks. I’m NOT old.

Now let’s take a quick walk through the ever bizarre world of fashion. As I was wandering around Plato’s Closet today, I kept experiencing the same phenomenon I so often do in stores these days: I kept thinking “Ugh, this stuff is just bizarre, some of it even downright ugly. Who wears this crap?!” And as usual I found myself wondering why anyone would torture themselves with the stilettos & other such uncomfortable fashions that dotted the store. I might be only 26, but life is way too short to be uncomfortable for the sake of fashion, no matter how “good” something looks. If that makes me lazy, I really could not possibly care less . . . Anyways, as it turned out, Plato’s Closet did reject all of my clothes, which was really not surprising considering most of them were pretty old AND considering I’ve never exactly been a fashionista. So I just took the clothes to the thrift store & called it a day.

For those of you who enjoy looking like a lamp shade . . .

As I said, I’m far from a fashionista. But that’s not to say I’m frumpy either; I certainly don’t go out in sweatpants & raggedy old T-shirts or anything like that. But the older I get, the more I find that I am truly disinterested in following the trends of fashion. For at least the past three or four years, it’s become increasingly difficult for me to find clothes I actually like. This is probably because lately a lot of really girly clothes have been in style. If something has frills, pleats, bows, or a large amount of sequins or glitter, odds are I’m not going to like it. If it’s a crop top or skinny jeans, you can just forget about it. And if it could be described as preppy, don’t even bother. I don’t suppose I have a scientific reason for why I really dislike these fashions; I just do. Maybe it’s because some of them strike me as rather childish & I for one am NOT a little girl anymore. I’m a woman, even if sometimes I have to remind myself that, yes, I am actually an adult. (The older I get, the more I realize no one ever really feels like an adult; we’re all just doing the best we can. But that’s a whole other blog post right there.)

And for those of you who want to look like you have wings on your hips

I guess what I’m starting to realize is, like so many things in life, when it comes to fashion I like things that will last, that is classics that never go out of style. I love things like V-neck sweaters, boot-cut jeans, sheath dresses (I think that’s the right term), athletic-style tank tops, & leopard print (though I’m very particular about leopard print because it can be incredibly tacky if not done right). None of these things is particularly trendy now or maybe ever, but they’re never really OUT of style either, if that makes sense. Considering I’m married to the first man I ever dated, I guess it makes sense that my personality type would be attracted to fashions that will stand the test of time.

Maybe it’s boring, but I really like classic styles like this.

Unlike yesterday’s post this isn’t really supposed to be deep or super meaningful. I’m basically just ranting about how disenfranchised I feel from popular culture, particularly when it comes to music & fashion. At the end of the day, the music thing bothers me a lot more because the older I get (I keep saying that!!), the more I realize how powerful music really is & the more important it becomes to me in my daily life. Gene Simmons might have proclaimed that rock is dead, but I for one know it is not. I know I’m biased because I have a predilection for rock & metal, but one reason this kind of music speaks to me so much is that the vast, vast majority of rock & metal bands write all of their own music, both the lyrics & the music itself. They aren’t just auto-tuned pop stars singing over top electronically produced tracks! It just makes me so angry when I think about all of the truly talented musicians out there whose work isn’t getting a fraction of the airplay & attention that talentless idiots like Justin Beiber, Selena Gomez, Carley Rae Jepson, & Miley Cyrus are getting.

Yes!

Again, this was just a rant. I realize there are more important issues in the world today. I can forgive the fashion industry for producing ugly clothes. But I cannot forgive the music industry for producing & promoting so much blatantly BAD music. And furthermore I cannot forgive the masses for consuming it & LIKING it.

As Corey Tyalor so eloquently stated in his first book The Seven Deadly Sins (seriously, folks, you need to read it!), “Bad music is a form of murder to the true art of music in general. Bad music forced on a child is abuse because it invariably forms that child’s taste in music. Bad music has raped an industry that was held up strongly by great expression for decades but now finds itself floundering, giving in to the lowest common denominator of music just to keep its panties around its waist. Bad music tortures the eardrums & kills little bits of your senses through prolonged exposure. Bad music steals money from shallow pockets, steals airtime from more deserving bands & songwriters, & steals the spotlight from undiscovered geniuses who have all but given up on a dream because of the mediocrity of popular radio. Bad music is a lie, & yet it is foisted on the public in an attempt to turn melodies & songs into hamburgers & fries. Bad music is truly a sin because you don’t have to be exceptional to make it in the music industry anymore. You just have to be good enough to stick around & be tolerated.”

To end on a positive note, let me share one of my favorite Halestorm songs that celebrates all of you freaks like me.And because I’m feeling extra generous, click here to check out the new track from Gemini Syndrome. This is just one example of the extraordinary work this band produces. Every song they write is both lyrically & musically fantastic.

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Pop Music, Lady Gaga, & Rape

As some of you know from real life & as others may have read on this blog previously, most modern pop music makes my ears bleed. I literally cannot listen to 99% of current radio stations without wanting to punch the radio . . . So I just don’t listen to the radio anymore since all it does is make me angry because everything I hear is such total CRAP. The lyrics contain zero substance; the thematic elements, if you can call them that, are vapid & inane; & the talent involved in the music itself is extremely limited, & that’s putting it gently. Let’s get real: “Call Me Maybe” was nominated for a Grammy . . . If that doesn’t make you want to puke, you probably ought to see a doctor. Ughhhh.

HOWEVER, ever since my freshman year of college when I first heard “Just Dance” I’ve been a huge fan of Lady Gaga. Yes, you heard me right. As much as I love Manson, MIW, Godsmack, & the like (& Eric Church & Kacey Musgraves; can’t forget the two country artists I truly adore), I am also completely enthralled by Gaga’s music . . . It just so happens that many rock stars have recognized the talent of Lady Gaga, Matt Heafy of Trivium & Sully Erna of Godsmack, just to name a few . . . I’ll admit her earlier hits like the aforementioned “Just Dance” as well as “Poker Face” & several others are far from life-changing & basically just typical pop songs, at least as far as lyrical content. But to me it was immediately obvious, even in those songs, that Lady Gaga is NOT your average pop star. For one thing, she can actually SING. Imagine that!

Lady Gaga Wallpaper @ go4celebrity.com

As her career progressed & she put out songs like Speechless (yes, she can actually play piano), “You & I,” & “Born This Way” I became even more impressed with her talents. I even chose The Edge of Glory for the recessional song at my wedding. Yes, believe it or not I got away with playing a Lady Gaga song in a Southern Baptist church of all places! I still find that hard to believe, even four years later . . .

Anyway, this week Lady Gaga has blown me away again. If you haven’t heard, she released a video for her powerful song Till It Happens to You. The video is hard to watch because of the subject matter, rape & sexual abuse, but it is extremely powerful. I completely understand if you can’t stomach watching the video, but everyone should at least listen to the song. If it doesn’t make you tear up or at least want to cry, you’re insensitive to say the least.

I find this song particularly relevant because of a sexual assault that happened at a local hospital this past weekend, a hospital which is part of the healthcare organization for which I work, & the less than stellar way the organization has handled this tragedy. Yes, believe it or not, a hospital employee was sexually assaulted in a public restroom within a hospital & the perpetrator has not yet been caught. To make matters worse, the hospital was not placed on lockdown & other hospital employees were not properly notified of the event . . . In the past we have always received emails any time a violent crime has occurred anywhere near the hospital or the associated university campus, even those of us working in outlying facilities. As I understood it, the hospital was required by law to report such crimes. But in this case, when a sexual assault occurred within the hospital itself, many of us, including me, only found out about it because of the local news or hearing about it from our coworkers who had heard it through the grapevine. This morning I got an email from my HOA warning us that a sexual offender had been spotted in a neighboring community. His picture was included as well as the number for the local police department. After reading that email, I couldn’t help but feel like my HOA is more concerned about the safety of our community than my employer is about the safety of its employees . . . . How disheartening to say the least!

Of course I realize there are idiots who throw around blatantly false rape charges, like the infamous Duke Lacrosse case. These morons only serve to bring into question the legitimacy of those who truly were raped or assaulted, which is incredibly sad. It’s not like victims aren’t shamed & blamed enough as it is.

I also realize I may catch a lot of flack for saying this, especially as a woman, but in my opinion if you CHOOSE to drink with someone, knowing your judgment may be impaired because of it, & you end up having sex with that person, provided you wanted & consented to the sex at the time, then I don’t think you have a right to claim rape. (If you do not consent or are actually passed out & completely incapacitated, that is a whole different story, of course.) Sorry, ladies, but regretting sex the next morning does not equal rape. Maybe I’m a traitor to my own gender for saying that, but I just think that if I want to claim equal intelligence & rights within our society I’ve also got to take responsibility for my own actions. To be clear, I am in NO WAY saying that girls who dress promiscuously or flirt with guys are “asking for it” & deserve to be raped or any such nonsense . . . I’m just saying you don’t hear guys crying rape when they wake up next to a girl who was a lot hotter when they were drunk & not thinking as clearly. I also realize that fake claims like this are really quite rare, but I do think it’s worth mentioning.

Now that that’s out of the way, I can focus on the meat of the matter. The truth is that rape & sexual assault/abuse are still rampant in our society . . . I certainly know people, some very dear to me, who have been raped or otherwise sexually abused. And I’m willing to bet anyone reading this does too. Or maybe it’s even happened to you . . . To be clear, I don’t think these issues are any worse now than they’ve ever been; I just think we’re more aware of them thanks to the technology we have today. And sadly I don’t think these issues will ever go away entirely, but I do think we can do better. And we can do that by raising our boys (& girls) to respect women & themselves (after all, any truly self-respecting person could not harm another in such a brutal way) & to understand that rape & sexual assault/abuse are NEVER acceptable behavior. Too often our society places the onus of preventing rape on the victim or potential victims. But that’s just backwards. Rape is not a women’s issue; it’s a humanity issue. Thank you, Lady Gaga, for reminding us of that. Rock on with your bad self.

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Life Lessons From My Grandfather

It’s probably been close to three weeks since I’ve blogged anything, but I spent the last weekend of August in Boston visiting my college roommate (which was awesome, except for the part where I ended up in the ER at Mass General after passing out on the street), & then just a few days after that my grandfather was admitted to the hospital on comfort care & passed away a few days later. So needless to say my life has been a bit of a whirlwind, both physically & emotionally, these past few weeks.

Ever since my grandfather died, I’ve been tossing around the idea of writing a blog post in honor of him & the things he taught me, but it’s taken some time for the pain of loss to ease enough for me to be able to write about this without dissolving into a mass of tears. Just to be clear, the things I’m writing about today are not necessarily things PawPaw taught me in so many exact words but rather things I learned from him by watching the way he lived his own life . . . As has been said many times before by folks much wiser than I, actions truly do speak louder than words.

One of the greatest things I learned from my grandfather was the value of hard work. PawPaw worked as a lineman with the electrical company in his area for many, many years. He took turns being on call on nights & weekends & many times went out in storms, snow, & ice to help restore electricity, not only in his own community but sometimes in other parts of Virginia or even West Virginia. Additionally, up until the last maybe five years of his life, my grandfather planted & tended to his own garden, growing everything from potatoes & corn to tomatoes & beans. He was also an active member of the local Ruritan Club & his church. One of the greatest lessons PawPaw taught me was that there is no job beneath me. It doesn’t matter if it’s scrubbing toilets, flipping burgers, or shucking corn, whatever I’m doing, I better do it to the best of my ability & take pride in the fact that I’m providing for myself & my family.

I’m not a big fan of country music anymore, although there are certainly exceptions to that rule (namely Eric Church, Kacey Musgraves, & Brandi Carlile), but there is a Montgomery Gentry song that came out when I was in high school that has never failed to make me think of PawPaw, especially these words right here:

“That’s something to be proud of
That’s a life you can hang your hat on
You don’t need to make a million
Just be thankful to be working
If you’re doing what you’re able
And putting food there on the table
And providing for the family that you love
That’s something to be proud of

And if all you ever really do is the best you can
Well, you did it man”

Here’s the video for the song if you want to check out the whole thing.

One of the other biggest lessons I learned from PawPaw was to never judge someone’s intelligence based on their level of education or their manner of speech. For those of you who don’t know, my grandfather was from Shenandoah County, a rural area in northern Virginia close to the WV border. Most all of his ancestors were poor farmers & almost no one in his family attended college, & there were probably plenty who didn’t even finish high school. In any case, my grandfather was one of those people who legitimately said things like “crick” instead of creek & “pi-an-y” instead of piano (although the latter was possibly a joke). But despite his countrified accent & lack of college education, you didn’t have to talk to my grandfather for long to realize what an intelligent man he really was. He had a great deal of historical knowledge, not to mention practical knowledge regarding farming & electrical work, & he had traveled to all but three states by the time of his death. Though I certainly value education & elocution, I always strive to remember, largely thanks to PawPaw, to give everyone the benefit of the doubt & not judge anyone’s intelligence based solely on their manner of speech or educational attainment because such things are not always the greatest predictors of intelligence as one might naturally assume.

Another great lesson my grandfather taught me was the value of generosity. Ironically, when I was a young child, to be perfectly honest I was a little afraid of PawPaw. He was a big, tall man with a fairly deep voice who didn’t shave every day & could come across as a bit gruff. Since I was used to my dad who is considerably smaller, shorter, shaves religiously, & is very soft-spoken I guess it’s not too surprising that as a young kid I was a little intimidated by PawPaw. However, over the years I realized what a truly kind, generous man my grandfather really was. I’ll never forget the time he was working at a bottling plant after retiring from the electrical company & he brought in some clothes & such things to some of his Hispanic coworkers who were clearly in need. My grandfather was also a very friendly, talkative person who could strike up a conversation with most anyone. A great example of this is a story that one of the pastors told at his funeral. Many years ago my grandparents were driving through Montana on one of their many road trips across the country. At some point my grandfather started waving at a farmer who was in a field beside the road. My grandmother asked him if the man was a friend of his since he was waving at him. His response was “No, but he’s gonna be.”
Most recent good picture I have with my grandparents is from our wedding 4 years ago. Photo credit to Triskay Photography.

I never heard this story until PawPaw’s funeral, but it was so powerful that I feel compelled to share it. One of my uncle’s friends who is now a pastor spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house as a kid/teen. This man’s own father was not very involved in his life, so he cherished the time he got to spend with my grandfather. As it turned out when he went home to his own house & began talking about all the things his friend’s dad did with them, his own father eventually became inspired to take a more active role in his son’s life. As I said earlier, actions really do speak louder than words & I’m so glad my grandfather lived a life in which his actions were proof of the love he had for his friends & family.

I’m going to close this post by sharing one of my favorite Black Stone Cherry songs, Things My Father Said. The song is written from the perspective of a son whose father has died, but the emotions it portrays are relevant for anyone who’s lost someone they love & is trying to carry on the lessons that person taught them.

Below are the lyrics:

“The things my father said would make me a better man
Hard work and the love of friends, a woman that understands

I hope my father knows the seeds we’ve sewn still grow
At night I go to sleep and pray he’s watching over me

Somewhere there’s a star that’s shining
So bright that I can see you smile
And all that I need is one last chance
Just to hear you say goodbye

Sometimes I remember, when you taught me to tie my shoes
One thing I will never forget, is the day that I lost you

I hope you always know the car that we built will always roll

Somewhere there’s a star that’s shining
So bright that I can see you smile
And all that I need is one last chance
Just to hear you say goodbye

And if you have a dream you better hang on for dear life
And when that cold wind blows, just let it pass you by

The things my father said

Somewhere there’s a star that’s shining
So bright that I can see you smile
And all that I need is one last chance
Just to hear you say goodbye”

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I Cry When I’m Alone

As I wrote about a few weeks ago, my grandfather has not been well for about 6 weeks now. Yesterday he took a serious turn for the worse & has now been admitted to the hospital for comfort care (essentially hospice). I absolutely believe this was the best decision, as he was clearly not getting any better & we all know he would never want to live the way he’s been forced to live since his fall earlier this summer. He has had very little quality of life ever since his fall, & that is always paramount, no matter how much we all of course wish he could/would get better & return to his previous state of health. But none of that makes the situation any easier.

As I prepare to go to work tonight, I feel like I need to share this poem which I composed last night as I was going to sleep & on the drive home from Virginia to NC this morning.

Miss Responsible:

As long as I can remember that’s always been me

Or Mrs. Responsible now, as the case may be

But anyway, what I’m here to say

Is this:

If you think I’ve got it all together

If my face should hide my fears

If you find yourself surprised

At the absence of my tears

The truth is

I cry when I’m alone

Cocooned in my sheets in the dark of the night

Or sitting on the couch, hiding from the light

The truth is

I cry when I’m alone

So if you’re shocked by my composure

Or my apparent lack of grief

Trust me, it’s there; you know

Some wounds run more than surface deep

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Cogitations on a Senseless Tragedy

I should be sleeping right now because I just worked two nights in a row & I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow morning to visit my college roommate, but there is no way I can sleep after the news I’ve heard this morning. As I was getting into bed, I saw that an acquaintance of mine from college had posted a plea for prayers for his WDBJ7 (a news station near where I went to college) family on his Facebook. As I scrolled further down my newsfeed, I saw more & more posts about a WDBJ7 tragedy. As it turns out, two young reporters, both essentially my age, were shot & killed during a live news segment from Smith Mountain Lake (near Roanoke, VA) this morning. As of this time, there is no known motive & the killer is still at large. The news segment was not about a crime so there seems to be no reason to have suspected there was any danger present. But sure enough, a 27 year old man & a 24 year old woman who were simply out doing their job trying to make a living in this world are both now dead for no damn good reason.

These are the two journalists who were shot & killed during a live broadcast at Smith Mountain Lake this morning

These are the two journalists who were shot & killed during a live WDBJ7 broadcast at Smith Mountain Lake this morning.

After watching the horrific video in which you can hear the shots & see some of the carnage, tears are streaming down my face as I ponder the horrible cruelty of it all. If I, a stranger who has never met these people or even seen them before on TV, can be so horrified by this senseless tragedy, I can only imagine the grief their friends & family are experiencing during this time.

At a time like this people, myself included, always ask “How can this happen? What would inspire someone to do such a thing? Where was God? What is happening to this world?” Such questions go on & on . . .

The fact of the matter (in my opinion anyway) is there are no good answers to these questions. The best answer is that these things happen because people are flawed; we are far more animalistic & far less civilized than we like to believe. And I think that’s about as good of an answer as we’ll ever get.

I’ve written on here before about how one of my biggest pet peeves is people who go around saying the world’s “going to hell in a handbasket” & everything is so much worse than it’s ever been. I truly do believe that the world is at least as, if not more, civilized than it’s ever been. Nevertheless, in the face of such a horrific tragedy, I confess I too find myself questioning why I would ever want to bring children into a world of such chaos & sorrow. I too find it hard to focus on the beautiful aspects of life in the midst of such unspeakable & unnecessary suffering.

And as petty as it is, I also want to tell all the people who think they’re safe living in the country that they need to get their heads examined because they’re clearly not as safe as they think they are. After all, this isn’t the first time Central Virginia has made national & world news for violent murders. Remember this? That’s my hometown!! And this? That’s my hometown again!! As I’ve stated on here before, Agatha Christie was so right when her delightful Miss Marple stated over & over again that even the quietest, most placid little village is filled with just as much crime, peril, & evil as anywhere else in the world. Listen up, folks: the world isn’t, never has been, & never will be a safe place. You can run but you can’t hide because violence will follow you everywhere; it’s inherent within us, or so history would teach us . . . & today’s tragedy only further serves to bear that out.

I don’t suppose there’s really a hell of a lot of a point to this other than to try to calm my own mind a bit so I can get some sleep & prepare for my trip tomorrow. And also to try to express the horror & confusion that the Roanoke/WDBJ7 community as a whole is experiencing right now.

Speaking of my trip tomorrow, this will be my first time flying alone & my first time navigating Boston alone (just for a few hours tomorrow afternoon). I know I’m going to do just fine, but I also know it will be a major test of my willpower & anxiety management skills. But I will survive. If anything this tragedy just serves to remind me that life is nothing if not short & completely unguaranteed. So we had damn well better make the most of every single minute we have on this planet because, as trite as it may sound, not a one of us, no matter how young or healthy, knows when our time will be up. And the greatest tragedy of all is not in death, for that is inevitable for all of us, but in a life wasted on bitterness & fear.

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