I've been trying to wrap my head around the latest in a long, long, long line of mass shootings in the United States. It's unfathomable to me that someone would be so full of rage and hate that they would go out and kill 50 strangers. I don't know much about the shooter and I know even less about the victims other than the community that they are associated with. However, there is something I do know: public discourse in the United States needs to change.
We have to do something about gun regulation. We don't need to take away people's guns. We need to make sure that all gun owners are responsible. Frankly, I don't know why more gun owners aren't speaking out about how there needs to be stronger restrictions regarding who can own a firearm. After all, the more mass shootings that we have in this country without outcry from gun owners, the crazier said gun owners seem. By saying ridiculous things like, "Not all gun owners," we are allowing people to excuse the behavior of a fringe group of gun owners without doing anything to prevent more of them from getting their hands on weapons.
Seriously, if you are a responsible gun owner, why would you protest having a three-to-five day waiting period before you get to pick up a gun? After all, if you are a responsible gun owner, that won't affect you other than a short delay while you wait for verification. Why wouldn't you want more background checks and verifications? Why wouldn't you want the kinds of weapons available like the semi- and fully-automatic weapons that are so popular among mass shooters to require verification and certification and registration? How is requiring to register your weapons in any way infringing on your rights? How is registering your guns any different than registering a vehicle?
Like many of you, I have heard arguments from people that believe that it's a God-given right to own a firearm. However, in light of all of this tragedy, I can't help but wonder how these gun rights supporters can continue believing that the assumed rights of one person outweighs the importance of public safety.
"The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun."
How can people keep saying this? How about we change it to, "The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is to take away the gun"?
Columbine High School had an armed deputy sheriff and 13 people were still killed. Virginia Tech had an entire police force, including a SWAT team, when 32 people were killed in two separate attacks by the same person. At the Tucson shooting where US Representative Gabrielle Giffords was shot and 6 others were killed, not only was there an armed civilian present who failed to stop the shooter, but he almost shot one of the unarmed people who tackled and disarmed the shooter. The Fort Hood massacre that left another 13 people dead occurred on a military base filled with soldiers. Heck, even the Secret Service couldn't protect President Reagan and his press secretary Jim Brady when both were shot in an assassination attempt.
This has gotten completely out of hand.
"An armed society is a polite society."
According to the FBI crime report from 2013, there are only five states where less than 50% of murders were committed with a firearm. In case you're curious, the states are Iowa, Alaska (most gun-related deaths in Alaska are suicides), New Hampshire, North Dakota, and South Dakota. That means that in the remaining 45 states, more than 50% of murders involved a firearm.
If we are to believe that the better armed we are as a society, the fewer deaths we are going to see, there seems to be clear evidence to the contrary. According to the Institute for Economics and Peace, the three most peaceful states in the union are Maine, Vermont, and Utah. In Maine, 50% of murders involved a firearm. In Vermont, 56% of murders involved a firearm. In Utah, 63% of murders involved a firearm.
How could someone possibly believe that we don't have a gun problem in this country?
The United States owns more than half of the world's civilian guns. We have the highest firearms murder rate per capita in the world. In fact, we are 20 times more likely to be killed by a gun in the United States than someone that lives in another developed country.
The way we talk about and regulate guns in this country is completely absurd. It's wrong. It's harmful. It's dangerous. It's more than time for us to stop the ridiculous arguments supporting gun ownership and start looking at the importance of public safety.
I remember back in 2011, people would say things like, "You can't stop doing X or else the terrorists win." Well, what if the terrorists are my fellow Americans? I went to a movie the other day and thought, "At least I don't have to worry about getting shot here since the theatre is pretty empty. There are other theatres here that have more people right now that a shooter would probably hit before this one." Do you realize that this means that somewhere in the back of my head I was thinking, "I'm going to the movies. I might get shot," and I had to use a flimsy mental reassurance that I probably wasn't going to get shot since I was seeing a less popular movie than other people?
That is so screwed up.
I'm very lucky to have season tickets to multiple sports in my city, but when I go to sporting events I automatically look for multiple exit routes from my seat as well as any places that I might be able to utilize for cover or concealment in case something happens. It's become part of my day. It's now routine. This has become something that sits in the back of my mind whenever I'm out in public because I don't know who around me is crazy and carrying.
Maybe it would be easier if I didn't feel like I have so much to live for. If anything were to happen to me, my family would be crushed. I have close friends that would have a gaping hole in their lives. I have a job that I am good at. I have dreams that I still want to achieve. All of that could be gone in an instant. Taken by a stranger that knows nothing about me, my friends, my family, or my life.
I've never been in a situation where I have had to fear for my life other than one time in college when there was a murder-suicide on campus. I was an RA in the dorm closest to the building where it happened and it was less than two weeks after the Virginia Tech shooting. Although the police quickly determined that there was no further danger to the campus community, it was still a terrifying experience.
Is this the new normal? Is this the way that we want to live? Is this the way that we want the rest of the world to view us? Are we really satisfied with our own citizens being afraid for their lives because we are unwilling to better regulate weapons?
This is unacceptable. This must change. We are better than this. It's time to prove it.
Monday, June 13, 2016
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Anxiety is No Joke
Panic attacks aren’t funny. In fact, panic attacks can be downright terrifying. Seriously, if you’ve never had one, it’s not like those times when you momentarily freak out about losing your phone for about 30 seconds and then find it wedged between your couch cushions. Panic attacks are Seriously Not Fun.
Imagine this: suddenly you can’t seem to take a full breath, your heart starts pounding in your ears. You wonder, “Am I having a heart attack at the age of 25?” Then your eyes start to slightly blur and your brain starts telling you that you are about 2 seconds away from dying. Now make that feeling last for 5 minutes in real time, but about 2 years inside of your head. You can’t think, you can’t even effectively communicate to someone near you that anything weird is going on. Everyone around you continues to function normally, but you just want to run to the bathroom and throw up. Of course, that’s assuming that you can remember where the bathroom is and how to get there.
That, my friends, is just one variation on a theme. Not all panic attacks are like that, but that’s how mine feel. The worst part is that these panic attacks can be triggered by anything. Seriously, anything. One day I was going for a quick walk outside of my office to stretch my legs. I started thinking about how nice the weather was and how spring was just around the corner. That’s when I saw it: DeathFluff. You know what I’m talking about. Every spring that fluffy cotton stuff invades the air, choking the life out of anyone with even the slightest hint at allergies. As soon as I saw that first speck of DeathFluff, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wondered if it was a sudden allergy attack or if something else was happening. Then I started to lose my balance and had to sit on a conveniently located curb. Of course, I almost fell over trying to get down to the ground, but I’m sure I only looked like I was mildly intoxicated rather than dealing with a panic attack.
You see, I had realized that I hadn’t taken the usual amount of antihistamines that morning before work. I had overslept a bit and dashed out of my apartment like a mini whirlwind. Unfortunately, that meant that the teeniest, tiniest bit of DeathFluff caused me to completely lose it. Yes, I have allergies. Bad allergies. Like, bad enough that I am supposed to carry an inhaler around during most of spring and summer so that when it triggers an asthma attack I can manage it without passing out from oxygen deprivation. However, this tiny bit of DeathFluff was absolutely not enough to trigger an allergy attack and, really, I was in no danger of having a massive allergy attack at that moment.
Logically, I knew all of this. Panic attacks, however, do not care about logic. Panic attacks are like little toddlers lurking in your subconscious. “No, honey. You can’t play with the stove because it’s hot and it will burn you.” Cue tiny human outrage and about 20 minutes of screaming and kicking while laying in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Thankfully, I was able to handle it and get back to the office before the end of my lunch break, albeit a little wobbly-kneed and pale.
It bothers me how people that have never dealt with anything like a legitimate panic attack seem to think that they aren’t a “big deal” or that they are as easy to “cure” as just “toughing it out”. Yes, I have actually heard all of these explanations from people.
Anyhow, my point is that if anyone out there tries to say that panic attacks are “nothing” or that you should be able to just “get over” them has no idea what they are talking about. Also, if you are dealing with anxiety disorders or depression or any other kind of mental illness, you aren’t alone. Also, if you don’t struggle with any of these conditions, don’t try to act like you know what it’s like unless you have actually done your due diligence and read up on what it’s actually like. As someone that has struggled with panic and anxiety for much of my life, I find it terribly tragic when people who have never had to deal with these things pass judgement on those of us that are struggling with daily anxiety.
It’s not something one can simply will away. It’s not something one can just “get over”. It’s not even a condition where there’s a magic pill that will somehow make things all better. Many people, myself included, need to go through multiple medications before they find one that actually works for them. Also, since the medication is helping to balance out individual brain chemistry, it can take 4-6 weeks for someone to actually see any kind of effect on their anxiety or depression. To put this in perspective, it took me almost a year to find the right combination of medications to bring my anxiety to manageable levels.
Okay, getting off my soap box now. Just had to throw this out into the internet abyss. For anyone that has happened across this post, hopefully it has either helped you deal with your own anxiety issues, put some of this into perspective, or at least has caused you to pause and think.
Friday, March 20, 2015
What's in a mascot?
It seems like a significant part of the country is caught up in this thing called “March Madness”. As a sports fan and someone that is far too hopeful that her bracket won't get blown up by one too many upsets, I decided to do my own twist on the sportsball action people obsess about every year: Mascots. You heard me, mascots.
The word mascot has been traced back to a dialectal use in Provence and Gascony in France, where it was used to describe anything which brought luck to a household.
The word was first popularized in 1880, when French composer Edmond Audran wrote a popular comic operetta titled La Mascotte. However, it had been in use in France long before this, as French slang among gamblers, derived from the Occitan word masco, meaning "witch", and also mascoto, meaning "spell" (not to be confused with moscato, which is a type of wine).
But that’s not the fun part of this post. The fun part here is the mascots that we all love to question today. I have compiled a short list of awards for top mascots that I have arbitrarily decided. You’re welcome, internet.
Cutest mascot (tie): University of Cincinnati and UC Irvine
Cincinnati has one of the cutest, albeit weird, mascots I’ve ever seen: the bearcat. Yeah, I know. I didn’t think that it was a real thing either. Irvine, on the other hand, has a highly-identifiable and adorable mascot: the anteater. Peter the Anteater is supposedly 50 years old and minors in Myrmecology. Fun fact: An astronaut took a three inch tall plush toy version of Peter on the space shuttle Endeavor.
The word mascot has been traced back to a dialectal use in Provence and Gascony in France, where it was used to describe anything which brought luck to a household.
The word was first popularized in 1880, when French composer Edmond Audran wrote a popular comic operetta titled La Mascotte. However, it had been in use in France long before this, as French slang among gamblers, derived from the Occitan word masco, meaning "witch", and also mascoto, meaning "spell" (not to be confused with moscato, which is a type of wine).
But that’s not the fun part of this post. The fun part here is the mascots that we all love to question today. I have compiled a short list of awards for top mascots that I have arbitrarily decided. You’re welcome, internet.
Cutest mascot (tie): University of Cincinnati and UC Irvine
Cincinnati has one of the cutest, albeit weird, mascots I’ve ever seen: the bearcat. Yeah, I know. I didn’t think that it was a real thing either. Irvine, on the other hand, has a highly-identifiable and adorable mascot: the anteater. Peter the Anteater is supposedly 50 years old and minors in Myrmecology. Fun fact: An astronaut took a three inch tall plush toy version of Peter on the space shuttle Endeavor.
 |
| Hi! I'm a bearcat! |
Coolest live mascot award: Louisiana State University
I would like you to get to know Mike, the live Bengal tiger and school mascot. Mike I was originally named “Sheik,” and even years after coming to LSU in 1936 he would roar when his trainer would call the old name. To this day, rumors swirl that Mike II died mid-season during a losing streak and was secretly replaced.
 |
| Mike even has his own on-campus habitat! |
No, they don’t just walk around wearing funny dress jackets. The school mascot is Blaze. Blaze the dragon. It’s a dragon, guys.
Their mascot (since an Aggie isn’t easy to visually represent), is Reveille the dog. The first Reveille was a stray dog a few Corps of Cadets members hit with their car and smuggled home in 1931. The next morning at the bugle call, the dog started barking, revealing the newly-acquired (and illegal) pet and earning her the name Reveille. She would eventually be made a five-star Cadet General by the U.S. Army before dying and being given a military funeral.
Best historical basis for a mascot award: Manhattan College
The unique nickname of the Manhattan College athletic teams, the Jaspers, comes from one of the College's most memorable figures, Brother Jasper of Mary, FSC, who served at the College in the late 19th century. Fun fact: the college claims that Brother Jasper started the baseball tradition of the “seventh inning stretch”.
Chaucer the Chanticleer (SHON-ti-clear) is named after the author of The Canterbury Tales. As the university explains, in the “Nun’s Priest Tale,” the Chanticleer is a “proud and fierce rooster who dominates the barnyard.” According to the school website: “With all of his splendor and great looks, Chanticleer is also greatly feared and mightily respected by all.”
This rooster's got swag.
And finally.....
Silliest mascots award (tie): Evergreen State College and UC Santa Cruz
First, let me tell you what a geoduck is. The geoduck is among the world’s largest clams, weighing three pounds on average. It’s so large, it can’t fit into its own shell. Speedy the geoduck is one of just two non-insect invertebrate college mascots. The other is Sammy the UC Santa Cruz Banana Slug.
"Mom?"
Monday, December 29, 2014
Golfing on Father's Day
This is a story from my childhood as told to me by my father:
One year for Father's Day my dad wanted to go out and hit a bucket of balls. He wanted to try to get me interested in the sport, so he brought me along and left my baby brother at home with my mother. Since it was Father's Day, the place was full and there weren't many spots open, but we managed to find one. I sat on the nearby bench and watched while my father happily set up his golf ball on the tee.
I'm not sure how much any of you know about golf. I, frankly, know basically nothing about the game. This is something that hasn't changed since I was very small.
My father squinted down the fairway and set his feet. He looked down his club and took a slow practice swing. As soon as he finished with his follow-through, he heard me call out from the bench, "You missed it, Dad!" The father next to him snickered.
My father kindly took the next few seconds to explain that before you actually swing at the ball, you practice your swing to make sure you're doing what you want to be doing. My small self nodded sagely while my father stepped up to the green and took another practice swing.
"Missed it again, Dad!"
This time more than one nearby father attempted to hide their laughter while my father politely explained what was happening once again. Unfortunately, children don't really know the difference between an "inside" voice and an "outside" voice, nor do they typically understand why it might be unwise to simply blurt out everything they think so that an entire golfing range might hear them.
"Oh! I get it. Every time you miss the ball it's called a practice swing!"
By now, none of the dads could keep it together any more and they started guffawing so loud that my dad couldn't help but look around and shake his head. Thankfully, he didn't feel the need for any more practice swings, so he stepped right up to the tee and took his swing--only to have the ball go right into the grass about three feet in front of him.
Yup. Sometimes it just doesn't pay to take your daughter to the golfing range.
One year for Father's Day my dad wanted to go out and hit a bucket of balls. He wanted to try to get me interested in the sport, so he brought me along and left my baby brother at home with my mother. Since it was Father's Day, the place was full and there weren't many spots open, but we managed to find one. I sat on the nearby bench and watched while my father happily set up his golf ball on the tee.
I'm not sure how much any of you know about golf. I, frankly, know basically nothing about the game. This is something that hasn't changed since I was very small.
My father squinted down the fairway and set his feet. He looked down his club and took a slow practice swing. As soon as he finished with his follow-through, he heard me call out from the bench, "You missed it, Dad!" The father next to him snickered.
My father kindly took the next few seconds to explain that before you actually swing at the ball, you practice your swing to make sure you're doing what you want to be doing. My small self nodded sagely while my father stepped up to the green and took another practice swing.
"Missed it again, Dad!"
This time more than one nearby father attempted to hide their laughter while my father politely explained what was happening once again. Unfortunately, children don't really know the difference between an "inside" voice and an "outside" voice, nor do they typically understand why it might be unwise to simply blurt out everything they think so that an entire golfing range might hear them.
"Oh! I get it. Every time you miss the ball it's called a practice swing!"
By now, none of the dads could keep it together any more and they started guffawing so loud that my dad couldn't help but look around and shake his head. Thankfully, he didn't feel the need for any more practice swings, so he stepped right up to the tee and took his swing--only to have the ball go right into the grass about three feet in front of him.
Yup. Sometimes it just doesn't pay to take your daughter to the golfing range.
Monday, December 22, 2014
Softball Shenanigans
Here's another "did that really happen" moment from my life:
In elementary school, I played softball. Sports was one of the only ways that I got social interaction because, frankly, I was the "weird kid" that was always reading books in the corner. However, this is one of my favorite incredibly non-PC moments from my childhood.
I typically started each softball game as the pitcher. It wasn't that I was particularly GOOD so much as I was the best that they had for the time being. One of the other girls on the team actually eventually went on to play softball in college. Anyhow, after I played a few innings on the mound, I would inevitably get moved into the outfield for the rest of the game. It makes sense: you get to play the more interesting infield for half the game and everyone has to take their turn in the outfield looking for four leafed clovers and making daisy chain necklaces.
One of the issues that I had was that my coach would routinely play me in whatever outfield position happened to be facing the sun. It was awful. Not only could I not figure out where the ball was if it got hit to me, but I was squinting so hard some days that I started to get wrinkled brows before entering 6th grade. One day I mentioned this to my coach:
“Coach, why do you always put me in the outfield position facing the sun? I don’t like it.”
“Well, it’s easier for you to play that position than the other girls.”
“I don’t get it.”
“The other girls need to squint when they face the sun. You’re already naturally squinting.”
Unbeknownst to my younger self, my father (also the team's assistant coach) had overheard this conversation and was torn between abandoning the two or three girls he was working with to come to my defense or to let me handle things on my own. Fortunately, I made the decision easy for him.
"Oh, okay, coach. That makes sense."
To my 10-year-old self, this argument did make perfect sense. Growing up, I knew that I looked different from the other people around me. I knew that my Asian mother had squinty eyes and that my white father had big eyes and was as aware of it as I was aware that my father was very tall and my mother was very short (okay, not very short, but when you compare anyone to a 6'4" father, they are always going to seem "very short").
Yup. I actually said that. All I could think about as I sauntered over to my outfield position was, "Ha. I am genetically superior." I swear to God that's what I thought. Sometimes kids are just too smart for their own good. Clearly there were times that I was. You may now commence with the facepalm.
In elementary school, I played softball. Sports was one of the only ways that I got social interaction because, frankly, I was the "weird kid" that was always reading books in the corner. However, this is one of my favorite incredibly non-PC moments from my childhood.
I typically started each softball game as the pitcher. It wasn't that I was particularly GOOD so much as I was the best that they had for the time being. One of the other girls on the team actually eventually went on to play softball in college. Anyhow, after I played a few innings on the mound, I would inevitably get moved into the outfield for the rest of the game. It makes sense: you get to play the more interesting infield for half the game and everyone has to take their turn in the outfield looking for four leafed clovers and making daisy chain necklaces.
One of the issues that I had was that my coach would routinely play me in whatever outfield position happened to be facing the sun. It was awful. Not only could I not figure out where the ball was if it got hit to me, but I was squinting so hard some days that I started to get wrinkled brows before entering 6th grade. One day I mentioned this to my coach:
“Coach, why do you always put me in the outfield position facing the sun? I don’t like it.”
“Well, it’s easier for you to play that position than the other girls.”
“I don’t get it.”
“The other girls need to squint when they face the sun. You’re already naturally squinting.”
Unbeknownst to my younger self, my father (also the team's assistant coach) had overheard this conversation and was torn between abandoning the two or three girls he was working with to come to my defense or to let me handle things on my own. Fortunately, I made the decision easy for him.
"Oh, okay, coach. That makes sense."
To my 10-year-old self, this argument did make perfect sense. Growing up, I knew that I looked different from the other people around me. I knew that my Asian mother had squinty eyes and that my white father had big eyes and was as aware of it as I was aware that my father was very tall and my mother was very short (okay, not very short, but when you compare anyone to a 6'4" father, they are always going to seem "very short").
Yup. I actually said that. All I could think about as I sauntered over to my outfield position was, "Ha. I am genetically superior." I swear to God that's what I thought. Sometimes kids are just too smart for their own good. Clearly there were times that I was. You may now commence with the facepalm.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Lessons from my Mother
In honor of Mother's Day, I have decided to make a list of things that my mother has taught me:
1. "Nothing is ever as bad as you think it's going to be (unless you are traveling alone with two crying children, in which case it will be worse. Much, much worse)."
2. "I know that person just made you angry, but they might be trying to get to a family member at the hospital or might be distracted because their cat/dog died. Give them the benefit of the doubt."
3. My mother was not put on this planet to make my life miserable. Even if I don't understand the reasons behind why she did something, I can trust that she always had my best interests at heart (took me 16 years to learn this one!)
4. Sometimes a strategically placed rude comment to the right audience can totally break the ice.
5. Learning music is really good for the soul, even though you often want to throw your trumpet across the room or run it over with a semi truck.
6. "You will thank me for this later" is annoying to hear, but totally true.
7. There is no problem so big that it cannot be remedied by eating pie.
8. Mom knows everything. EVERYTHING. Don't event think about trying to keep anything secret from her. She. Will. Know.
9. The ability to make fun of yourself is a necessary life skill.
10. "Remember: it could always be worse. At least you don't have cancer." Translation: stop whining and go do something proactive.
11. Life is scary, but you can handle it.
12. There is nothing quite as amazing as a phone call with my mother after I've done something stupid.
13. Mom hugs are the best. (So are dad hugs.)
14. Growing up and becoming more like your parents really isn't as horrible as your high school self thought it would be.
15. No matter how bad you screw up, Mom will have a snarky comment to make and somehow it always helps you feel less terrible.
1. "Nothing is ever as bad as you think it's going to be (unless you are traveling alone with two crying children, in which case it will be worse. Much, much worse)."
2. "I know that person just made you angry, but they might be trying to get to a family member at the hospital or might be distracted because their cat/dog died. Give them the benefit of the doubt."
3. My mother was not put on this planet to make my life miserable. Even if I don't understand the reasons behind why she did something, I can trust that she always had my best interests at heart (took me 16 years to learn this one!)
4. Sometimes a strategically placed rude comment to the right audience can totally break the ice.
5. Learning music is really good for the soul, even though you often want to throw your trumpet across the room or run it over with a semi truck.
6. "You will thank me for this later" is annoying to hear, but totally true.
7. There is no problem so big that it cannot be remedied by eating pie.
8. Mom knows everything. EVERYTHING. Don't event think about trying to keep anything secret from her. She. Will. Know.
9. The ability to make fun of yourself is a necessary life skill.
10. "Remember: it could always be worse. At least you don't have cancer." Translation: stop whining and go do something proactive.
11. Life is scary, but you can handle it.
12. There is nothing quite as amazing as a phone call with my mother after I've done something stupid.
13. Mom hugs are the best. (So are dad hugs.)
14. Growing up and becoming more like your parents really isn't as horrible as your high school self thought it would be.
15. No matter how bad you screw up, Mom will have a snarky comment to make and somehow it always helps you feel less terrible.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
More Online Dating Shenanigans
I reactivated my online dating profile so that I could rate two of my friends as five stars. Within 48 hours, I had received 35 messages and 99 profile views. These are some of the highlights:
Today's winner (name has been removed because....I'm not sure why, but I felt like I should):
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