This machine kills fascists.

This quote has kind of been floating around the H o' B recently... It appeared in a graffiti stencil of Kanz's, which created a launching pad for it to spread to t-shirts, cars, etc. Then we saw it on some other shirts at Cornerstone, where I purchased a shirt where the words are typed onto a computer screen. As I bought it, I thought, "This is cool, because I blog."

I got home and realized I hadn't blogged in over 3 months. I suppose it's a good thing- as I began to resolve my issues with people, I also stopped requiring the computer as my sole outlet, my only release.

But tonight, there's too many emotions, too much to just dump on someone.

I'm listening to angsty teen music (thank God that I didn't have Simple Plan as a teenager...).

I grew up in a house where there wasn't really a lot of hugs or other physical contact. If I was upset, my parents would try to hug me, but I generally pushed it away until they seemed to just stop- or I blocked out their attempts. There was never any question of if they loved me... There just wasn't the physical manifestation of that.

Separately from that, I don't think I've ever loved someone enough to be mad on their behalf. I was always too busy being mad for me, for what people had done to me, to realize that other people were hurting too.

Today, I watched someone who I love deeply be hurt in a way that I am unable to comprehend. And while she's dealing with it in her way, I am sitting here wondering how to deal with the feelings welling up inside me- of wanting the person doing her harm to realize what they're doing, to have just a bit of what's going on inside of her.

At the same time, I want to respond in love, in a way that I know Jesus would have. (Why does our stupid language have only one word for love?) To respond with compassion and understanding, fairness.

While dealing with these emotions, I logged on to Facebook to see what was going on in everyone else's normal, every day lives... And saw a post my mom had written.

My little brother's lizard died tonight. His girlfriend bought it for him, and it's been an important part of his life- and my mother's, by extension, as she made sure it was fed and watered, and checked in on it periodically. When she checked on it tonight, however, it was laying with its "palms up".

She wrote of feeling immense sadness over the death of this reptile- and of not understanding why she doesn't feel that same emotion when humans die.

"I never touched [the lizard]. I was afraid to, in fact. Unfortunately, I feel the same about most humans. [The lizard's] death made me realize, once again, the importance of life. I need to choose more wisely."

 I guess I'm seeing that, as much as letting people in sucks sometimes and you get hurt, and I want to avoid it and quit trying, that that's exactly what gives my life purpose- the connections with people, the interactions I have on a regular basis, the ways I see God in people and they see God in me.

(Part of what I hate about blogging is that I feel like I need to have a nice wrap up. But I don't have the energy for it tonight. So the end.)