Paris

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There are days when I firmly believe that the world would greatly benefit from the aerial spraying of Prozac. This is one of those days. Why can’t we all just choose to get along?

I came home in a relatively good mood. Not being one whose panties get bunched by a lack of pagan winter solstice symbols on my red Starbucks cup, I was especially pleased that I could buy one holiday drink (a Peppermint Mocha) and get a second one free (a hazelnut mocha is just like drinking hot, liquid Nutella). Yay, me! I was happy.

I got a hug today from the worst behaved kid in class who did an entire half a page of work  (which is a huge accomplishment for him), my other troublemaker just back from a week long suspension didn’t cause much trouble, and one of the kids, who was three units behind, with the help of diligent parents, is now only one unit behind. I should also get Little Kitty’s ashes back any day now.

But now, Paris.

No amount of wine, cognac, or logs on the fire will brighten this night. I am not a religious person, but I pray for the victim, their families, and the first responders, as well as for those that did it. Yes, I expect I’ll take crap for that last part, but I do not understand them. I do not understand bottomless hatred that drives people kill innocents, hence my prayers, because, really, what else can I do?

I also pray that this will not be taken out of the refugees fleeing the very countries where this kind of violence happens everyday. There is only one reason why people cram themselves and their children onto overcrowded, rickety boats and set sail on uncertain waters: the possibility of death at sea is preferable to the certainty of death at the hands of ISIS or Assad. I pray that we do not take the butchery of Paris out on them. It would be a terrible, terrible irony.

And Mr Trump? Perhaps you could just keep your opinions to yourself for a few hours. Just a few hours of silence would be not only nice, but it would also be appropriate, because at the moment, those opinions are full of sound and fury and signify absolutely nothing.


One thought on “Paris

  1. The news is getting seriously unbearable. And you’re right that Trump doesn’t help.

    I just am not feeling consolable about any of this at the moment.

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