I want to tell a story. But all I see are roadblocks. So many song lyrics are in my head as I think about that first look. Those first awkward words. The first unintentional very noticeable touch. That feeling of butterflies. Losing the ability to speak clearly as I search for the perfect thing to say. What are those words? You’re beautiful? Your eyes render me helpless? Run away with me and tell me how you possibly have already stolen my heart? All are true. But are they the right things to say to get all those feelings across. Usually it comes out a very simple and clumsy “hello.” Not inspiring at all. Hopefully lame enough to be cute. Maybe she can see my excitement. My jitters. My huge smile I am trying for some reason to hide. I’m giddy and can’t contain myself. I start to fidget. In my head a perfect song lyric plays. I want to get caught in a gaze without words and feel the way like when a great song lyric captures your sense of power. With the cold chills of something bigger. An unexplainable urge to be better. To be bigger than your previous self. What is that? Is it love? Is it some sort of strange admiration or simply has someone else momentarily captured my soul and set me free? We’ve all been there. I want to tell a story. Like a weird painting does. Where only those that get it can feel it. Only those that are truly moved see its power. But all I can come up with is a simple word. One that we long to mean. Long to utter to another that gladly takes it and gives it back in only a way we understand. Like when we smell a smell of our youth that immediately takes us back to the exact moment of a previous time in our life. Apple pie, honeysuckle, fresh cut grass. It only takes a split second to bring us right back to that first touch. That first kiss. It’s sad how we can so quickly move past that original feeling. But then in an instance, we’re back as if it’s happening for the first time. Erasing everything other than that moment. I want to tell a story. One of hope and bliss. But what is it? Why do I want to tell this story? And who wants to hear it? Who needs to hear someone else’s story? All of us! We all need it. We all need to know the power of a simple feeling. We get busy and we forget. Maybe we’ve never felt it. Maybe we’re scared of it. Scared of what it does to us. I want to tell a story. But who’s? Can I look in your eyes and read yours? Probably! Maybe? I’m not sure. I just want that chance. The chance to tell the world who I see. A chance to let your guard down while I’m still protecting you. To be your guardian. Your champion. A chance to struggle to be beside you and everyday prove myself. I want to take you on a ride. A journey. A path with an unknown end except we get there together. At the same time. Your story. Our story. I want to tell a story.
So this is a topic that comes around every once in a while and seemingly more frequently in the last few years. On one side you have the Pro Gun people talking about the constitution as if they wrap their entire lives up in the holiness and legalness of the document. Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. You know their line. On the other side you have outraged parents talking about how we have very weak gun laws and they want the Government to make laws to change societies problems. When I started thinking about this topic I thought I would have so much to talk about but when you get right down to it here is the dilemma, guns are too easy to obtain legally but way easier to obtain illegally. From where I sit, better gun laws are probably a good idea but PARENTING is where the real problem lies. Yes I said it. Some 64% of mass shootings since 1982 have been white men looking for attention. It is difficult to talk about this in politics since most of the politicians are white men. I am from a generation where a parent stayed home and got all in my business about everything from teachers to school work to friends, both good and bad, and every other aspect of my life. At the time this seemed excessive and annoying but in retrospect it was great. I never felt alone or left out or whatever. Today we have more and more families working where both parents have their careers and work way over 40 hours each to “provide” for their children while nannies do the real parenting. This is so selfish and incomprehensible. Why have kids if you still want to put all of your focus on your own goals? Kennesaw Ga back in the 80’s made it a law for all heads of households to have a gun registered and keep ammunition for said gun. This town routinely is selected as one of the nations top 10 and 25 best place to raise a family and for safety(Google it). This exactly proves my point. Guns are not the thing making this town safe or homie, it’s the fact that everyone there is on board with the safety of their neighbors.
We can have arguments going all over the place on this but we all know that we live in a very selfish ADD world where we want it all and don’t want to sacrifice anything to get it. I’m not sure where this entitlement came from but we are in the middle of it and we have to find a way to remember that the American dream is not a dream of self righteousness but one of hard work and sacrifice to achieve a way of life and piece of mind.