Nice vs. Good

In high school I was big on young adult novels about love and coming of age – some of my favorite authors being Sarah Dessen, Deb Caletti, and Jennifer Donnelly.

It was one of the novels by Deb Caletti, I don’t remember which novel as I was reading a book a day back then, where a character said something that still sticks with me to this day. It was something along the lines of “There’s a difference between being good and being nice, and what’s important to remember is that not all nice people are good people.

Even in high school, I understood that this line held depth and that I needed to remember this. And as the years go by, I recognize each and every day that just because someone is nice doesn’t mean they are good and have my best interest at heart, and just because someone is mean doesn’t mean they are bad and terrible.

It’s important to be able to see through to people’s true intentions in order to shield yourself from potential ruin.

If you think that sounds dramatic, then you haven’t met nice, bad people.

Or maybe you’re nice, bad people.

I make it a point to be friendly to everyone I meet and to show kindness, but in conjunction, I’m honest and will bluntly call situations as I see them. Generally speaking, I also prefer to surround myself with similar people. One of my close friends and I had a conversation where he exasperatedly told me, “Emily, I’m not mean or cruel, and it’s annoying when people see me that way.

Of course I know he isn’t mean or cruel, he just has a blunt way of dealing with people that I can appreciate and relate to.

I think it’s incredibly important to surround yourself with people who gas you up, sure, but also with people who will bring you down to earth – who will tell you when you’re wrong and not let you get away with shitty behavior.

When you surround yourself with people who only gas you up, all that’s happening is you are being lifted high onto a pedestal of sand that is a mix foundation of mock niceties and a fallacious sense of self-righteousness.

All it will take is one thunderstorm of a human to dissolve your pedestal of sand and leave you lying there helpless, clueless, and looking stupid.

Ultimately, what I’m getting at here, is that it’s important to understand that nice and good are not synonymous. Just because you held the door open for an old lady and then smiled kindly at the waiter who took your order – you aren’t guaranteed a sticker labeling you as good people.

Being good is standing up for what’s right, honoring agreements, not always searching for loopholes that screw people over but lift you up, and lastly not using anecdotes of the nice things you’ve done as justification as to why you’re a better person than Joe Shmoe.

Being good is more than a one off deed.

Another way to look at it, is nice people are always looking at situations as win/lose – good people are always looking to create a win/win situation. Even if the win/win entails conflict or uncomfortable conversations along the way, a good person will choose to face that in order for a mutually better outcome.

Good people tend to go that extra mile in a situation which nice people could interpret as “complicating things.”

Being nice is easy, being good is genuine.

Weekend Escape: Road trip to Salem

“I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!”
“Oh, look. Another glorious morning. Makes me sick!”
“Vanquish demon first, kill husband later.”
“Relax…it’s only magic. Now who’s pathetic?”

Witchy quotes to intro into a witchy post. October 2019 Zoe and I decided we absolutely had to embrace our witchy vibes and head to Salem, Massachusetts. Our souls were craving magic, spooks, and to be smacked in the face with with the crunchy smell of fall.

Salem delivered.

Our journey starts on a Friday afternoon, we’re a bit more organized for this trip than the Montreal weekend trip – we leave about the time we say we’re going to and we get to the hostel at a decent time that evening. The drive time was a little over 4-hrs with traffic.

So this is where I’ll level with you, our hostel in all reality is more or less a halfway house. We picked up on those vibes rather quickly as nearly all of the lodgers are an older crowd of folks that are a bit…permanent to the property. That being said, this place was so cheap – and available – that I’ll stop complaining there.

Wait, one last complaint – the old dudes smoked right outside our window shootin’ the shit at all hours and it was near impossible to sleep…that was actually the worst part.

Now back to the fun parts 🙂

The weekend we were in Salem was the weekend before Halloween so you bet that it was crowded and had a plethora of stuff going on. There was a sick Dark Arts Festival held in the evening in the Old Salem Village, and my god it was Chilling Adventures of Sabrina vibes to the max.

I mean just check these vibes:

We also attended a witch trial reenactment, learned about our past lives, our futures, and we went to a midnight seance hosted by mentalist Jon Stetson.

I will say, the seance was cool, but Zoe and I spent like $60 each and thought it was a real seance we were going to. We completely overlooked the keyword “mentalist” which basically is a dude who is incredibly observant of human behavior and has set up specific situations which have a guaranteed result.

He ended with openly saying everything was fake and then used his platform to talk about his life struggles and perseverance.

Which kudos to him, but we thought we were going to be talking to dead people, not messed with mentally and then lectured at the end.

So major advice – don’t rush-book a seance if you want to experience something quality. But totally book this guy, or others of the like, if you’re a scaredy cat but still want to feel like you did something spooky.

The Forest

She trekked, well more like stumbled, through the forest. Huffing and puffing, throwing muffled curses under each labored breath, as she aggressively swatted the deadly branches out of her warpath. She wondered if she’d ever make it to the other side, to the clearing.

Oh, the clearing.

The clearing held so much hope and promise – greener grass, a bluer lagoon, and neighbors with adequate amounts of sugar to share. To get to the clearing was to get to comfort. Once she made it through the woods, and into the shining clearing, things should be better.

They had to be better.

Lost in her thoughts, she missed a step. Her pointed boot caught under a fallen branch, one she had absentmindedly thrown in her own path, no doubt, and flat on her back she lay – staring up at the sun between the treetops. Other than letting out an exasperated breath, she remained completely still; absorbed in the view above her.

How beautiful.

It’s as if the leaves and branches themselves were sparkling images in a kaleidoscope. The more she focused on the dazzling leaves blowing in the breeze, the less anger towards the world around her she began to feel. She closed her eyes, took a long, deep breath, and embraced her pause. As she reopened her eyes, she slowly stood back up and gently began brushing the dirt from her body.

Time to get to the clearing…

She trekked, well more like floated, through the forest. A soft smile resting upon her face as she moved onward, softly wading through the lush tree branches, taking care none scratched her along the way. She wondered if this feeling of peace would be magnified once she made it to the clearing; more importantly, would this feeling be long lasting? Her moments of peace and happiness were often fleeting; her only lasting feeling was that of an insatiable hunger.

That feeling of an insatiable hunger for more…

Whatever she had, wherever she was, whoever she was with… it was never enough. It was never where she wanted to be, it was never right. Hence, the current journey to the clearing. She had read enough about the place to know this would be it; the place to fill the void in her heart, soul, and stomach. It would satiate her, hopefully even more than that.

She just had to get there first.  

Weekend Escape: Road Trip to Montreal

Sometimes New York is just too much.

It’s too busy, too hectic, the amount of people can be suffocating.

Did you think that I never get tired of the city? That I don’t miss the rolling hills of corn you pass while flying down country roads, windows rolled all the way down? A quietness so immense you can hear a mouse fart?

Of course there are days that I miss it, it’s where I was born and raised.

Most New Yorkers also hit a point when they need out of the city, just a little break, and three day weekends are the perfect opportunity to do just that.

President’s Day weekend 2019 Zoe and I decided to rent a car and road trip it up to Montreal with a few New England stops on the way. Seems like a great, straight forward endeavor right?

LOL.

We had this perfectly planned out trip where we depart at 12.00 p.m. on Friday, hit Providence, RI [drive time of 2 hours from my apartment] to take a peek at what it’s all about, then we go to Boston [drive time of 1.5hrs from Providence] for dinner, then Montreal [drive time of 5.5hrs].

So in total, this trip should’ve taken 9 hours, plus 1.5 for dinner and stops. I created a mapped out google doc that said so.

How long did it actually take us?

OVER THIRTEEN HOURS.

So what caused this delay?

Let’s list it off:

  • Right off the bat, our start time was off, we didn’t leave until 3:30 p.m.
  • Traffic. Traffic. Traffic.
  • Boston has a massive underground tunnel system not for the weak of heart or sensitive GPS systems. I kid you not Boston might as well have its own world underground – it felt kin to that of a Purgatory. Will you make it out of the tunnels? Only if God allows.
  • Last but not least, we took quite a few fresh air stops to awaken our tiring souls

Boston was such a hot mess getting to, realistically we should’ve given up [we really were tangled in those tunnels for so long..] but the level of determination to see Boston was intense.

That being said, when we finally made it, we were enchanted. It was so quaint.. so charming.. it’s been decided a formal trip needs planned there asap. Boston is deserving of it’s own weekend.

Now.. the next moment to highlight the level of delirium..

THE BORDER.

Picture it: It’s 4:00 a.m. and two twenty-somethings, who have been driving for nearly 12 hours, approach the border.

It’s intimidating and doesn’t make sense.

As we approach, there is a sign that says, “WAIT TO PULL FORWARD UNTIL SIGNAL

Frantically, we’re both looking for a signal of sorts – a light maybe??

Then we see an arm extend out of the building ahead, motioning us forward.

Signal?!” we whisper to each other frantically.

So I inch the vehicle forward and we’re faced with a stern looking officer who quickly bombards us with the questions, “Where are you coming from? Why are you visiting? Who are you visiting? Where are you staying? Whose car is this? When are you leaving?

We answer them all reasonably enough, then we get our passports back – all good to go!

So I hit the gas, but the car isn’t moving…

I push the pedal harder, harder, to the floor. The engine is revving so loud in the sleek Dodge Charger but we aren’t moving…

What kind of Canadian border magic is this?!” I wonder.

Then, I assess the car in more detail.

I 100% forgot that I put it in park.

Then it clicks – I just revved my engine at a Canadian Border Patrol Police Officer.

Oh my god.

In the US, a rev of the engine is considered a challenge – what if it’s the same in Canada or what if it’s worse??

I turn to look at him, my mouth open and eyes wide in shock, I owe him some kind of explanation for my weird behavior, right?

I, uh, forgot the, uh” I say rather intelligently while looking between him and my dashboard.

It’s okay.” he stifles a laugh.

While Zoe is next to me whisper-yelling, “DUDE GO GO GO GO BEFORE HE DOESN’T LET US IN!

Queue my zoom out of there.

So that’s how we made it into Canada.

The rest of the weekend was spent stuffing face with various poutines, all the coffees, beaucoup de franglais, hating the way they all say deux [they say it like dur], too much wind in the arctic tundra for us to handle at times, more shopping than our bank accounts would like, and we both got tattoos.

Below are key locations of our weekend 🙂

STAY

Samesun Hostel book on HostelWorld

Samesun Hostel | Montreal, QB

We stayed at Samesun Hostel which was incredibly affordable and if it cost anymore than what we paid I’d be bitter af.

We arrived around 4AM, the guy seemed to have a hard time understanding what was going on and why we were arriving when we did – even though we literally gave them a heads up that afternoon what our latest ETA would be. But he finally got it together and gave us our towels and room keys.

We journey down some stairs and a corridor, before we make it to our room. We open the door and we’re hit with it.

We are hit with the nastiest smell you could ever imagine, and we immediately begin gagging uncontrollably. We frantically glance around the room both looking for a free bed and the source of the smell.

Zoe frantically whispers, “Those are dudes in those beds.

Aw hell nah.

No way are staying in a room with 10 nasty-smellin-ass boys – especially when we paid for an all girls dorm. No, no, no. Not happening sorry.

We rapidly evacuate the room – still gagging – and force the front desk dude to change our room to what we booked.

After that, it was smooth sailing. The beds were hostel-level fine, the breakfast was pretty decent, and it was located in a decent spot where we could walk nearly everywhere.

EATS

Clam Chowder + Lobster Mac & Cheese

The Aviary | Swansea, MA

The Aviary was our New England dinner stop on the way up, and all I have to say is wow, did this place live up to our expectations of everything we thought traditional New England cuisine would be.

The lobster in the lobster mac was so fresh it quite literally got us all hot and bothered.

This poutine was either the duck or the pulled pork…I think it was the duck…

Hippi Poutine | Montreal, QB

This place was straight fire from top to bottom.

The poutine was everything we wanted and then some, and they had the cutest french children’s books everywhere.

It also was incredibly close to the hostel – approx. 10 min walk.

Pain Perdu

Café Chat L’Heureux | Montreal, QB

This is a cat cafe – need I say more?!

I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I won’t 🙂

Café Chat L’Heureux has you remove your shoes upon entering to keep the place clean and cozy for the cats. They also serve a great cappuccino and decadent desserts – each table also has a detailed paper with the cat’s photos, names, zodiac signs, and if they’re available for adoption :’)

Biscuits & Gravy + Breakfast Potatoes

Penny Cluse Cafe | Burlington, VT

Penny Cluse was our exit brunch of the journey. This place echoed the New England quintessential charm and had such a homey diner vibe. It had major Luke’s from Gilmore Girls vibes now that I think about it.

If you find yourself in Burlington, Vermont – this has to be on your list.

What’s My Love Language?

In 1992, a guy from North Carolina named Gary Chapman published a book titled, The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate.

He broke it all down.

Gary has concluded that there are five different love languages, and everyone has one language they take more of a liking to.

The different love languages are:

  • Words of Affirmation
  • Quality Time
  • Receiving Gifts
  • Acts of Service
  • Physical Touch

I took Gary’s test, and discovered my primary love language is Acts of Service.

To quote Gary:

Can helping with homework really be an expression of love? Absolutely! Anything you do to ease the burden of responsibilities weighing on an “Acts of Service” person will speak volumes. The words he or she most wants to hear: “Let me do that for you.” Laziness, broken commitments, and making more work for them tell speakers of this language their feelings don’t matter. When others serve you out of love (and not obligation), you feel truly valued and loved.

5 Love Languages Quiz Result: Acts of Service

All I can say is Gary is spot on about me.

Whenever anyone, in any facet of my life, does anything for me – be it clean the kitchen or when I’m running late to happy hour someone suprise-orders me a drink so it’s already there waiting for me – I’m sincerely always shocked and it’s not uncommon I’m moved to tears in those situations. I’m an easy crier, what can I say?

I have an Atlas Complex real bad, meaning I tend to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, I always have.

So even if it seems like I have things under control, I’m more than likely worrying about 20 other things, most things that don’t even directly concern me – my empathy will be the death of me.

I really, truly always appreciate any and all help. I also never even expect anyone to help me, so it’s always a nice surprise when someone does.

So guys, take the test! Identify your love language so you can both acknowledge your needs and how to explain to those in your life what you need to feel loved.

Once you know your love language, you can refer to the below for some advice on how to approach explaining your needs based upon your love language.

Words of Affirmation

If Words of Affirmation is your love language, below are some ways to explain the type of love you need.

I love it when…

  • you make me playlists of songs that remind you of me.
  • you make a point to compliment me, appreciate me, and encourage me.
  • you share your feelings with me.

I feel neglected when...

  • you don’t vocalize how you feel, it makes me feel anxious and unsure. If I don’t verbally hear you tell me how you feel about me, I question what you truly think of me.
  • you don’t verbally express moments when you are proud of me or appreciate me. It wears me down mentally and emotionally to have to try to assume you feel these things about me, I could be more at peace if you just told me.

Quality Time

If Quality Time is your love language, below are some ways to explain the type of love you need.

I love it when…

  • you are completely present in the moments we spend together, whether those moments are out at dinner or on the couch watching TV, I appreciate when you’re all there and not engrossed in your phone or thoughts.
  • you actively make plans for us to do things together.
  • we have genuine conversations that hold depth to them.

I feel neglected when...

  • you jokingly call me needy or clingy when I ask to spend more time with you.
  • you spend most of our time together absorbed in your phone, or planning other arrangements.

receiving gifts

If Receiving Gifts is your love language, below are some ways to explain the type of love you need.

I love it when…

  • I’m feeling down and you give me small tokens to try to boost my spirits.
  • buy me a thoughtful souvenir whenever you are traveling without me.
  • special occasions are never forgotten and always paired with intentional gifts that have great symbolic value.

I feel neglected when...

  • you forget special occasions.
  • the gifts have no deeper meaning behind them, they’re just given to me out of duty.

Acts of Service

If Acts of Service is your love language, like mine, below are some ways to explain the type of love you need.

I love it when…

  • I can count on you.
  • you make it a point to do whatever you can to help ease stressful situations.
  • you help with chores or errands without even being asked.

I feel neglected when...

  • you drop the ball and forget to do the task you promised.
  • you ignore my requests for help, no matter how loud or silent those requests may be.

Physical touch

If Physical Touch is your love language, below are some ways to explain the type of love you need.

I love it when…

  • I’m not the one always initiating the intimacy.
  • we’re walking and you hold my hand or put your arm around me.
  • you frequently give warm, affectionate hugs.

I feel neglected when…

  • we go long periods without any intimacy at all.
  • you coldly show affection.

New Age Christianity

Growing up, I spent my life bouncing between Pendleton, Indiana and Elizabethtown, Kentucky – distance between the two is about 3 hours driving. The back and forth, as one could guess, is due to my parents divorcing when I was incredibly young.

In all fairness, now I can reflect that my parents were also incredibly young.

They had a blossoming relationship in college – having met at an esteemed Greek mixer party at Western Kentucky University. One thing led to another, and here I came into existence folks.

My parents did the sensible Kentucky thing by dropping out of college, getting hitched, and embracing family life.

A couple years later I had a sister, and a bit after that I had two homes in two different states, two Christmases, two birthdays, more siblings, along with summers and every other weekend in Kentucky with Dad and all schooling went to Mom in Indiana.

The divorce is when my life became severely complex, and even though only being 3 going on 4, it was clear that if I adapted and rolled with the punches, life would be easier.

After the divorce, both my parents took to God.

In Indiana, my mom was able to put my sister and I into a Catholic private school, St. Ambrose, in Anderson. Religion was a firm part of the curriculum and equated importance to that of Math and Science, we went to mass as a school once a week – or more if there was a holiday. In addition, my mom, sister, and I went to mass together over the weekend.

St. Ambrose is where I did most of my growing and where I found the most foundation for being the caring, compassionate person I am today. St. Ambrose didn’t teach the hate or harshness that Catholics have the rep for. No, St. Ambrose full frontal lectured to show unconditional love and kindness to all those who cross your path, and it was made clear if we retained nothing else, this we must retain.

In Kentucky, my dad and step-mom bounced around church shopping for a hot second until settling on where we still attend to this day, United Memorial Methodist Church, in Elizabethtown.

This was so different to being Catholic.

Often, my siblings and I went to Sunday School instead of being forced to sit through an hour long sermon, but as the years went by we were sitting in the sermon instead. I learned through the Methodist Church that there are many different ways to praise God together. There can be a full band playing Christian songs you’ve never heard before, praising God in a church doesn’t have to be mechanical acts that you need to learn and memorize – there’s no earning any rights of passage or “leveling up” if you will.

Overall, I really learned that there is no wrong way to get with God.

I also learned that I don’t need to choose one way or another either. I have the capacity to embrace both just fine.

In fact, I learned I have the capacity for more than that.

In high school, my friends and I began dabbling in tarot cards – which is a hardcore Catholic no go.

Tarot cards are devil’s work.

But I had a really hard time understanding, I mean, if God is such an awesome God, why will he damn me to hell for channeling the very intuition he gave me?

I decided very early on, that the God I was raised with wouldn’t damn me to hell for dabbling in tarot cards and other New Age practices.

Quite frankly the minute I believed that in my heart of hearts, more doors opened.

I’m still very much on a self-discovery spirituous journey, but what I can confirm is I believe in higher powers and I believe in fate.

I believe the higher powers consist of not only a traditional God that is male, but also a higher Feminine power *think Virgin Mary vibes on steroids*, and I believe in the power of the earth and the spirit.

I believe in complexity, I believe in power, and I believe in coexistence.

A Call with Nana: Know Justice, Know Peace

Being a white female from a middle class demographic that grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood, it’s always been easy to turn a blind eye to modern day systemic racism – if I’m being honest, it wasn’t so much as turning a blind eye, but more so being ignorant to how deeply rooted racism is in everyday American life.

It’s also been easier to awkwardly laugh off more obvious racist slights.

Because it didn’t affect me.

But on May 25, 2020 George Floyd’s tragic murder shook the world to its core.

It shook me to the core.

I started listening, and truly hearing what the black people of America have been screaming their entire lives, for generations upon generations. The Civil Rights Act signed in 1954 may have taken down segregation, but it didn’t eliminate white privilege and the American system that caters to white people. Black people in America are still very much ‘separate but equal‘.

The first week of June, I made it my mission to get educated and understand – because to take down the system it’s necessary to understand the system. The podcast by NPR’s Code Switch: Can We Talk About Whiteness and Netflix Documentary: 13th kicked off my flight to understanding. Like many others, I began getting aggressive on social media, sharing resources after resource, partially to ensure funny memes wouldn’t continue to take back the newsfeed, but also so my friends, family, and followers can get educated and understand. I needed these people, my people, to understand.

What I didn’t expect from all of the posting, was an angry phone call from a family member that lacked any kind of understanding. Not one blip of it – just unbridled, condescending ignorance screamed into my ear for 45 minutes.

And that, quite frankly, broke my heart.

In addition to shattering any hope I had for their understanding, the call inspired me to talk to my nana. I knew speaking with her would lift my defeatist mentality after that emotionally taxing argument. While talking with her, I began to take note of our conversation – what she was saying was important and moving – I felt other people who may not feel inclined to listen to me, may listen to her.

My 71 year old, very white and very woke nana needs to be heard by more people. So, readers, meet my nana – Rosalinda ‘Rosie’ Piatkiewicz.

Growing up, she would often pick my sister and I up from school, watching us until our mom got off work. And like most sisters, we’d be able to tolerate each other for a total of….3 seconds before incessant bickering would ensue. I’m not sure how your family handles fighting siblings, but my nana’s go to was “There are children around the world who have to worry about not having food to eat or a bomb getting dropped on their house! There are children in war zones – WAR ZONES!” and she would continue to rant at us endlessly about the tragedies of the world.

Effectively shutting us up and ending the argument over who got the last Cheet-o.

And now, ladies and gentleman, below – a conversation between a granddaughter and her grandmother.

A Call with Nana

E: What do you think of what’s going on right now? The protests, the looting, the riots. There’s a lot of people across the board who lump these three together, but more often than not, they’re not the same groups of people doing everything. There’s footage of protesters stopping looters. 

N: To quote a friend, “Hmm sort of reminds me of Jesus turning over the tables in the temple.” In situations like these, there’s always going to be looters, people who take advantage of a situation.

What’s most troubling with this whole situation is Trumps declaration, “Bring in the troops!” THE TROOPS?! The cities need more men that can contain, sure, but you’re talking military – which is there to protect our country against foreign enemies, not against our own citizens doing what is constitutionally allowed: raise your voice, protest in the things we see as wrong. It’s our country, not Trump’s country – we’re doing exactly what we’re supposed to be doing and what we have the right to do! Not to mention, how would you feel as military getting called into “tame” your own city, being put in a position to oppose your own family and friends. The military is meant to protect from foreign enemies – not to be used against your own people. That is called a Civil War.

E: What are your thoughts on the police force? There is a call for defunding, reform, change. All of which I honestly am still trying to wrap my head around on what should be done, what must be done.

N: Cops are trained militarily – how to shoot, how to restrain. They are not trained enough on how to deescalate, negotiate, step back, and keep hold of a temper. Police training has been cut down over the years, there used to be an extensive academy consisting of 16 week long training, and currently its lowered to only 6-10 weeks of training to become a policeman.

There is also no official licensing to become a cop, it’s training and certification exam, which leads to situations where if a cop gets fired for unnecessary force or other instances, he can go to another part of the country and get hired on elsewhere, remaining a cop. He has the training, he doesn’t disclose the bad info, cities in need of a cop tend to not dig as deep into an individual, and since there’s no license to be stripped to declare the individual unqualified – he’s still able to be a cop. This isn’t monitored.

Look at nurses for example – All nurses, from RNs to CNAs, have to be licensed so that they can be tracked because there are good people and bad people in every occupation. 

E: It’s clear that the term white privilege is misunderstood by many, I can’t even seem to accurately explain to the confused, because if they are reading the same documents that explicitly lay it all out and still don’t get it – I don’t know what else I can even say. Often it seems “white privilege” and “being privileged” are synonymous, when they aren’t at all.

N: White privilege isn’t “life would be better if I came from a better background because life would’ve been easier” it’s not economic. It’s the fact that the day you’re born and you’re that white baby in the nursery, you’re going to be treated better than the black baby. Your life is going to be easier than theirs.

When I think white privilege, I always reflect on a night where I was working with another nurse who happened to be black. Her son was sick with a fever so she combined her breaks to run home and check on him. She only lived a few blocks from the hospital, so no one had any issues at all with her running home. This nurse took over an hour, and everyone began getting worried about the kid thinking something went wrong. She finally makes it back and lets us know that it took so long because she got stopped by a police officer, she didn’t run a stop sign, wasn’t speeding. The police officer pulled her over and said, What were you doing in the neighborhood driving around. She informed him about her sick son, and he let her go after a while. But we knew what happened, she got stopped for driving black.  

There’s another striking thought that comes to mind, I’ve never gone to work and been told that a patient doesn’t want me taking care of them because of the color of my skin. When this situation comes up, and believe me it does, the more empathetic way I’ve seen it handled is by saying to the nurse, “He’s not going to be your patient tonight because he’s a racist and I don’t want to put you through that.”

E: Why do you think so many people are bothered by the BLM movement? When Black Lives Matter is mentioned, it’s not uncommon for people to shout in response “All Lives Matter!” But what’s weird is that no one said all lives didn’t matter. There is still a massive civil rights injustice happening in the country, there is still racial inequalities happening.

N: I can only think they feel against the movement because they know in their hearts that it’s true, that they don’t look at black people as people – they look at them as black.

Growing up in Kane, Pennsylvania, I never saw more than one black family. It wasn’t until I married and we moved to Virginia that I began to see. Virginia is where I saw “whites only” signs everywhere.  There was one night when your papa and I went for a walk down by the river, and there was a KKK meeting featuring a cross burning and I was shocked, upset. It was earth shattering.

A clear reason for the split on Black Lives Matter, is that Trump is making it a point to try to divide the country – he’s not even trying to hide this (aka setting the military against the very people they’re meant to protect and serve.)

I am patriotic, I love my country – and it is because of this that I want America to be the best it can be, and to be that it needs to change.

Look at our young country and what we’ve done in just a few hundred years: annihilated Native Americans and took their land – we could’ve instead respected their culture, made friends, coexisted with them, but no – we wanted their land and resources. We just completely shit on them. Then we went to another part of the world and captured people only to breed them like animals and make them do our work.

We have a lot to atone for, but knowing that this is your country’s history – how could you not want to atone for this?

E: How do you handle it when friends and family deny white privilege and racism? How do you handle the continued support of Trump?

N: There are times where I purposely watch Fox news to get a different perspective, see what makes them think this way. But when I think about it too much I just want to cry because it hurts me so badly that they feel the way they do.

At the end of the day, I can’t emphasize enough that my point of view is not a Republican vs. Democrat thing. Trump is dividing our country. There are good Republicans speaking out against him that I respect – because while my philosophy is different than a Republican’s, I see it’s possible that we can still get together and change things. The problem is the man. He is not for us, he is for himself.

A leader unites. 

Because of the division created in the country, it’s hard to have conducive dialogues with certain people because they echo the Trump Mentality of “its my way or the highway.” Just look, the most powerful man is surrounded by other powerful and highly educated people that are trying to educate him on how to be presidential and make good decisions – yet he remains firm in his egocentric stances.

A way to maintain relationships is to ask, “You may not agree on this, but what DO we agree on?”

*end call*

While the world is pushing for uncomfortable conversations, no one is saying to stop having comfortable ones.

Have both.

Keep balance.

And by keep balance, I don’t mean if you have 3 comfy convos, to then have 3 aggressive ones. No, keep YOUR balance – keep your mental and emotional health in check.

Unplug from social media if you need to, ignore phone calls if you need to, hit that “Do Not Disturb” like it’s nobody’s business.

Take. Your. Pauses.

On Netflix watch 13th, When They See Us, and Teach Us All – but also watch The Big Flower Fight, Sweet Magnolias, Community, and The Wrong Missy.

Keep. Your. Balance.

Don’t let the haters get you down, continue getting educated and fighting for what’s right.

Know justice. Know peace.