Thoughts swirl around in my mind in crazy patterns, like psychedelic mosaics. It’s almost 3am, do I know where my brain is? Sleep escapes. I could write several dozen blog posts on each topic, maybe even a hundred.
For one, the shootings at Umpqua Community College in our state’s picturesque Roseburg last Thursday have rattled me to the core. How many more of these terrors do we have to endure? Speaking of terror, if it were a terrorist doing all these random shootings, we’d be trying everything to eradicate it in any way possible. Since it’s just a USA mentally ill homegrown person? Nope not going to talk about any form of background checks or any compromise on gun control. Why can’t there be a frank discussion? Why are other allied countries able to deal with this in a rational manner, but we can’t? As President Obama often says, “it doesn’t make sense.”
I think about all those victims and their families. I think about those who were around the mayhem when it happened. They’ll be impacted for life in different ways. No one will ever be the same because someone who was ill decided to settle his own personal – and in this case literal – demons by shooting up a normally safe place.
Then my mind shifts to the loss of a good friend named Stan, who died on the same day as the massacre. He would have been 71 today. I think of how he had been fishing alone in Tillamook, Oregon, and had a fatal heart attack. I hope he went quickly. I hope he didn’t panic and think about his family. I wonder why it happened as he had just retired and this may have been his first fishing trip in a long while. The poor man had every joint replaced – hips, knees and ankles along with gastric bypass surgery. I’ll never understand why he went that route as he was not obese. But after the surgery, he looked pale and unhappy and was not himself. At the age of 68 when he had this done, he should have been living life to the fullest and enjoying himself. If something isn’t really necessary, then please don’t do it. The consequences could be dire. In Stan’s case, I think he was persuaded to have this procedure done, though I can’t say for certain. No blame either way, but this certainly could have been altogether avoided.
Lastly, I can’t sleep because when we’re sharing a condo with others and someone sleeps in the living room, everything shifts. I was forced to give up the book I was reading, because my husband came to bed at ten. I tinkered around on the phone for awhile, but sometimes the contrast of the phone’s light in a dark room bothers my eyes and then in turn, my head.
So I read for awhile when my husband just got up to sit for awhile as he often does. Since it’s his brother out in the living room, he’s comfortable going there. And now it’s 3:15am, and I’m spilling out my discombobulated guts. For sure there’s sadness inside me over the recent events. I also feel sad that we all just can’t get along in the world, whether it be the whole globe of humanity, the people in our country, or in our own inner circles.
Thoughts swirl like leaves caught up in a sudden wind gust, and I’m exhausted. For my part in this wild, wacky world, I am going to practice kindness everyday, even if it’s in a very small way. For laugh out loud instance, in public restrooms I’ve been leaving the toilet paper hanging out so the next person can more easily grab hold of it. Don’t you just hate having to dig for the damn thing? It’s the little things in life sometimes. That’s all it takes.
I think it’s time now to say goodnight or in this case, good morning.