The Budding Optimist

I think if I still lived in South Carolina, I would be described as tender-hearted. And it would not be a compliment. It would be like when you say, "Bless her heart," while watching someone from New Hampshire try to figure out grits. Tender-hearted is too easily given to feelings. I think my feelings are bigger than the rest of me put together. If I could get rid of some of my feelings, I think the first one I would get rid of wouldn't be anger or sadness or jealousy. It would be hope. I hate hope. Hope is the thing that kills you. I know that's an expression commonly used in soccer-football but since it's the Superbowl here in America, it feels appropriate. I had a date tonight. My friend Abbie gave me this beautiful necklace a few days ago that she said helps manifest love. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt hopeful... I mean, not that I was going to fall in love on a first date, but like -- hopeful that I could even still feel positive about a ...

I've been thinking a lot about death lately. I've been thinking about how an aspect of Judaism I've always admired is the "sitting shiva." My mom's family was Jewish but since she was raised in foster care, we didn't really get a lot of the aspects, except for as they were watered down by Christianity. But I have always loved how Jews sit together for a period of mourning and remembering after someone passes. I think it's telling that shiva  is a death-mourning for Jewish people and Shiva  is the god of Death in Hinduism and savasana  is the "corpse pose" in yoga. Death transcends culture. In the last several weeks, we've had a student bring a gun to school (he got suspended but will be back in August); two mass shooting threats written in bathroom stalls; and a student carry another loaded gun into a gym full of 1,500 people. The administration team keeps either a) telling us nothing, b) telling us "there was a threat but it's m...