Shannon

shannonandme

You were the girl
with the untamable curls
exploding from your tiny head.
I first saw those curls bounce when you turned around
to copy my math answers in fourth grade.
I covered my paper and offered to help you.

The first time I came over your house
you called me upstairs
so I would walk past the wide-open bathroom door
while you were peeing.
You laughed maniacally
when I turned red and ran back downstairs.

You were as loud and brassy as those curls,
unless you were talking to your dogs
in your baby voice.
You loved all creatures
and dreamed of being a veterinarian
or marine biologist.

It was always fun at your house.
We ate what we wanted
swam in your pool,
Ran upstairs shouting, “Esta noche volamos!”
Ran downstairs shreiking, “To the batmobile!”
and were allowed to be girls.

I always apologized for you
when you argued.
You said you had no patience for lies.
You won every battle,
large and small,
then sharply instructed me not to apologize.

After high school we were planets away.
I heard you decided to become a lawyer.

You didn’t take shit from anyone.
I guess that’s why the coward felt he needed a gun.

You were found in a dumpster.

They identified you
by your hummingbird tattoo.

The man who helped discard you
was released from prison for good behavior.

You wouldn’t have let that happen
If you had the chance to finish your law degree.

~

Written in memory of Shannon Lee Meara, my childhood friend. This beautiful and smart young woman was seeking an education so she could help others when she was murdered by her ex-boyfriend. She was 24 years old.

Please consider donating to the Shannon Lee Meara Foundation. Funds raised support a dating and domestic violence program for high school students to promote healthy dating relationships, and an annual scholarship for a high school graduate who has had a positive impact on dating and domestic violence issues.

If you live in the Boston area, please consider participating in the 6th Annual Shannon’s Run, happening on Saturday, June 1, in Woburn, Massachusetts. More information can be found on the Shannon Lee Meara Foundation website.

Thoughts on the Boston Marathon Bombing Aftermath

Last week was  pretty tense. I was relieved when the second suspect of the Boston Marathon bombing was captured alive Friday evening. Now there is a better chance for answers, and hopefully there will be justice for the families affected by this tragedy. My husband and I bought a case of Sam Adams Light to celebrate as we watched the people of Boston celebrate on TV.

CelebratingWithSamAdams

Samuel Adams: because Boston-brewed beer is better than the shit you drink.

However, the entire week was frustrating for me. Perhaps some of it had to do with my new diet. I just want to punch everyone in the face right now because I can’t have cream in my coffee, eat a doughnut, or order a burger at a restaurant without burning a near impossible amount of calories at the gym. God.

donut

I just want a doughnut, okay?!

But my frustration also had a lot to do with people on social media following the events in Boston. For those who aren’t aware, I’m a Bostonian living in Kansas.

First, there was the lady I argued with about racial profiling. (Yes, I argue with random people via social media, because I’m that kind of douche). A friend of mine posted a link to this New Yorker article, which discusses the Saudi man who was arrested following the Boston bombing. The poor guy was injured and was trying to escape the area of the blast like everyone else, when he got tackled by some dumb fuck who thought he looked suspicious. Then his apartment was searched. Then a Fox News Producer followed the man’s college roommate, asking him over and over if he was sure he wasn’t living with a killer.

So my response to the article was that people are dumbasses and that I hate Fox News.  I also explained that I’m from Boston and there are so many people who are Muslim or of Middle Eastern descent who live, work, and go to school in the Boston area. So, having grown up in the area and being used to these people being, you know, everywhere, my first reaction to them is not “terrorist.” Actually, I don’t react to them at all, because they are usually just going about their business like everyone else.

fromboston

I’m from Boston. I may not be the friendliest person, but I won’t think you’re a terrorist unless you’ve committed an act of terrorism.

So this random lady on Facebook  jumps down my throat, saying that I wasn’t there and am in no position to judge the situation from the safety of my home. She also noted that the last people that attacked our nation on our soil were Saudi Arabians, and that people still make that connection. So, essentially, racial profiling is okay in her book.

So I told her that I believe the last people who terrorized  people in the U.S. did so in Newtown, Conn., and Aurora, Colo. And they were both white dudes who were born in the United States, raised Catholic and Lutheran (respectively). And I said that automatically assuming a Muslim or a person of Middle Eastern descent is a terrorist in the Boston area is just dumb. You might as well assume that every 10th person you pass on the street in Boston is a terrorist. This woman reiterated that I wasn’t there at the scene of the blast and was in no position to judge. Well you weren’t there either, honey.

*sigh*

Then there was the lady I know who asked everyone to pray for President Barack Obama. Which I thought was great! Our President needs prayer. But in the midst of her prayer request, she threw in, “What a difference it would make if we had a president who was a follower of Jesus.”

So I looked at this lady’s name again, and realized that I’ve heard her call President Barack Obama a Muslim in a previous conversation. I left it alone the first time because I didn’t want to appear rude or get into a political argument. But since it happened twice, I felt the need to correct her, explaining that President Obama IS a follower of Jesus.

obama-prayingwithfamily

The Obama family engaging in what appears to be Christian prayer.

The lady’s main point was to pray for our President, which is a good thing. But, living in Kansas, I hear “Obama is a Muslim” pretty regularly, and it’s frustrating. I know he is a Christian and goes to a Christian church with his family. When he spoke at the Interfaith Service in Boston last week, he invoked Christian scripture and the Christian God several times, because that is what he believes in. He also invoked “One Nation Under God” during his speech following the capture of the second suspect. He may not be completely flashy about his faith all of the time, but if he was, wouldn’t he be the same as the Pharisees in the New Testament?

There is absolutely NO sound evidence to support the belief that President Obama is a Muslim. And even if he was a Muslim, I wouldn’t care, because it’s not a requirement for U.S. Presidents to be Christian.

But as a Christian, I am glad President Obama is also a Christian. And like all Christians, President Obama isn’t perfect. He is doing his best. And yes, he does need our prayer. I felt the same way about George W. Bush when he was our president, even though I didn’t agree with his decisions all of the time.

I felt a little bad about making an issue of it, but I’ve heard enough negative comments about Muslims while living in Kansas, and frankly I am tired of hearing them. One woman I used to eat lunch with at work even said that we should put all Muslims in concentration camps like we did with the Japanese during World War II. This was following the shooting at Fort Hood a few years ago. I was literally speechless for a few moments. Then I calmly disagreed with her and left the table. I never sat with her again. I just cannot stomach such ignorance.

dictator

This is generally how people feel about President Obama in Kansas. And I’m fucking tired of it.

Then there were the idiots in Malden, Mass., who attacked and harassed a Muslim woman who was walking with her infant daughter. Long before law enforcement identified the Boston Marathon bombing suspects, these assholes KNEW that Muslims were responsible for the bombing and felt that attacking an innocent Muslim woman carrying her baby was merited.

My friend Mike G. is from Malden, and wrote a hilarious post about the ignorant comments made on the local news article following the incident. He pretty much said everything I wanted to say on that subject.

Then there was the gun-toting ignoramus from Arkansas who tweeted this:

natebell

Oh geez. So I visited this guy’s Twitter page and noticed that he deleted the offensive tweet and replaced it with an apology to the people of Boston. So, because this guy will OBVIOUSLY give a shit about what I have to say, I replied to him,” Thanks for the apology, but the people of Boston don’t need guns to defend themselves. We’re not afraid to use our fists.”

welcome

Seriously… we will fuck you up if you mess with us or any of our friends.

Then there were the idiots who were convinced the U.S. had turned into a police state, even though the actions of law enforcement saved lives and led to the capture of the second suspect alive. Then there were the other idiots who were complaining that Dzhokhar Tsarnaev wasn’t read his Miranda rights. Well, dumbasses… he was pretty unresponsive and disoriented when he was captured, so I’m sure he wouldn’t have understood his rights if they were read to him anyway.

In closing, I’d like to say that the negative that came out of this ordeal shouldn’t overshadow the positive, even though sometimes it’s hard to view things in a positive light. I admire the people of Boston, law enforcement, and marathon runners who did everything they could to help people affected by this and to find those responsible.

A tweet from @TheBatman pretty much summed it up for me: “When Gotham needs a hero they look to Batman. When Boston needs a hero they just look to the person standing next to them.” I believe that is so true. Boston people can be very guarded and reserved, more out of respect for other’s space than rudeness,  but if they are on your side you don’t have a better friend in the world than a Bostonian.

I am proud to be from such an extraordinary city.

boston

Boston Love <3

Ordinary Boston

Reblogged from 25ToFly:

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I am not one to let news tragedies affect me and certainly not the ridiculous media coverage that accompanies them, but the Boston Marathon bombing really jarred me. I've never felt such hopelessness in humanity. I cried on and off the whole day. What you are about to read is a re-post from almost a year ago about my first experience with traveling out of the south as an adult.

Read more… 868 more words

A native Southerner shares her memories of visiting Boston, describing what I most miss about my beloved city: "No one cares what you are doing, where you are walking, how you are walking, what you are wearing, or why you are even there. Judgement seems to disappear. Everyone is dedicated to their own world and possesses no interest in invading another’s as a respect. It was a refreshing change from the over friendly, intrusive way of Southerners."

Weekly Photo Challenge: Change

bostonmarathonWeekly Photo Challenge:  Change

I took this photo of the Boston Marathon finish line in April 2010.

I grew up in the Boston area and have always called the city home, even though I’ve lived in Kansas for the last seven years.

Words cannot do justice to my love for this beautiful city. That is why I was so saddened to hear about the tragedy near the Boston Marathon’s finish line yesterday.

I pray for all of the family and friends affected by this tragedy. I commend the heroes who immediately took action to save and preserve lives.

My husband and I are moving back to the Boston area this summer.  We miss the city so much. We’ve given it plenty of thought, and decided that we can’t imagine spending our lives anywhere else.

Leaving the Boston area seven years ago only made me appreciate it more. I’ve become a tourist each time I’ve visited Boston since moving away. I realized that after 20 years of living in the Boston area, I never bothered to visit the U.S.S. Constitution, Old North Church, Paul Revere’s House, and other landmarks important to my nation’s history.

This summer, I plan to become a tourist again. I will revisit my old favorites, such as the Isabella Stuart Gardner Museum, The MFA (Museum of Fine Arts), Boston Common, Harvard Square, George’s Island, and The North End. Then I’ll check out things I haven’t seen yet, such as The Longfellow House in Cambridge (where George Washington stayed during the siege of Boston from July 1775-April 1776), Nantucket Island, and the cranberry harvest in the fall.

The thing that I love about Boston is that, each time I visit, it changes. Yet it remains the same. It is constantly moving forward: making strides in business, education, infrastructure, and culture. Yet it is ever faithful to its glorious past.

Boston is a wonderful place to visit and live. It is one of the cleanest metropolitan areas I’ve been in, is easily walk-able with a user-friendly public transportation system, and contains some of the most interesting people in the world. There are people from so many different walks of life who come to Boston to work, start a business, receive an education, and live. I feel blessed to have grown up in an area where I’ve had the opportunity to meet and learn from people of so many different cultures, religions, and lifestyles.

The Boston Marathon is a celebration of the multiculturalism Boston so warmly embraces. I can’t understand why anyone would want to smear that with hatred. But Boston, as always, continues to move forward.

While the tragic events of yesterday may change the city somewhat, it will always remain the same: embracing and reflecting the beautiful colors of so many people and nations.

The Real Little Blue Suitcase Makes An Appearance

Here is the real Little Blue Suitcase. It was waiting for me on my kitchen counter when I got home from work yesterday.

1

With this note on it:

2

And these items inside:

3

The real Little Blue Suitcase is a vintage suitcase that was owned by my grandmother (Nana was such a hipster that she was vintage before vintage was vintage). I believe she used it during the 1970s, traveling post-retirement. I love it because it reminds me of her.

I’ve been on a diet, and have had to get really serious about eating right to make any progress. I ran out of healthy snacks yesterday, so my awesome husband decided to go to the store and get me the healthy snacks I enjoy. He also got me some “fun” snacks, like a Milky Way Midnight Dark Bar and Manischewitz Wine- because you need to indulge every once in a while!

How do you land an awesome guy like this?

1. Be a nice lady.

2. Have love for the geeks. There are some real gems out there who make fantastic husbands!

I love my husband. He is always surprising me in cool ways.

Welcome, New Followers!

I’ve received a lot of new followers in the last week, and I would just like to say thank you and welcome to LittleBlueSuitcase! Whenever I get new followers, I try to check out their blogs as well. I haven’t had a chance to do that with all of my new followers yet, but I will when I have more time. I love connecting with talented writers!

I’m also thankful for the wonderful writers who already follow my blog. I so enjoy reading their blogs, and I’m flattered that they read my blog as well!

To make things easier for some, I’ve set up a Facebook and Twitter for LittleBlueSuitcase. So if you would like to get LittleBlueSuitcase updates via those sources, feel free to like or follow me!

The poetry I’ve been sharing lately has gotten positive response, so I am planning to share some more. Yesterday I learned that April is National Poetry Writing Month. Some of you dedicated bloggers are writing 30 poems in 30 days for “NaPoWriMo.” I commend you and look forward to reading more of your work! I just started writing poetry again after a decade hiatus, and it can be a grueling, soul-sucking process. So I truly admire those who can write a poem a day.

In case you missed them, here are the two poems I shared recently:

Victory At Frye Island
Romans 7

Happy National Poetry Writing Month!

Victory at Frye Island

me
I stood
Bleeding      out
Looking at the nothing
in the mirror
When the final battle
ended.


You said it started when
I stopped wearing my hair
                          down
gained the F r e s h m a n
           f i f t e e n
bit my nails
too
short
and started drinking.


You said it started because
I had a bad ATTITUDE
lacked RESPECT
REJECTED those who loved me
and DISMISSED GODLY WISDOM!


Losing
       was easy.
Surrendering
       wasn't.


What I didn't say was
you’re not worth the fight.
I stopped
loving you
when you threatened to
                      KILL ME!
during the Battle of Central
                     Square.


The tide turned
at 
     Charles
The          River.
It was Independence Day
        and
when the fireworks ended
you told everyone
to leave
me
because I was CRAZY!
Frog Pond--Park Station--and a pay phone--were my allies that night.
 

I survived
and surrendered at Frye
                   Island.


I never saw you again.

It was a long time until I saw

myself
      again.

Like this poem? Check out another one of my poems: Romans 7.

This post was inspired by the Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge: Playing With Space.

Five Stupid Reasons I Want to Off Myself

wrinkles copy

I’m 29, and I had a bad day yesterday. Sometimes on bad days, I want to off myself for silly reasons. Like:

1. I have to actually put in effort to care for my body.

I hit the metabolism lottery, okay? That all changed when I started taking a medicine that can make me gain a lot of weight if I’m not careful. So, oh my God, I actually have to hit the gym 6-7 days a week now, and feel anorexic until I get to my target weight. So essentially, I have to do what the majority of people I know have done for years. WAH.

2. Drinking is no longer fun.

Drinking used to be fun. Now it just makes me feel sick, depressed, and regretful. And since I’m watching my damn calories, that means no more Man-O-Manischewitz for moi.

3. I’m not having babies.

I don’t want babies. But you know, I’m getting to “that age” where “the clock is ticking,” so I’m constantly being asked about it, then am pitied by smug Moms who say having children was the best thing they ever did. I don’t care. I’m not creating a person just so I can find myself.

4. I can’t afford anything I “should” be able to afford by now.

I’m 29. Why can’t I afford a house? Why can’t I afford to travel to Ireland? Why can’t I afford to get my roots done? Why can’t I afford the hairspray I want, because my overgrown bangs keep getting in my face and my cowlick makes life freakin’ impossible? WHY. Because of debt. Stupid higher education. Who needs you?

5. Yesterday contained zero excitement, which is no different from most days.

This was my day yesterday:

Woke up.

Showered.

Put on makeup.

Dried hair.

Worked.

Lamented my existence and the fact that no one reads my damn blog.

Went to the gym.

Hated every minute.

Read more of John Adams by David McCollough.

Wished I was as awesome as John and Abigail Adams were.

Told myself I was a pansy for only doing 20 minutes on the elliptical.

Watched a parody video of Taylor Swift’s “Feelin’ 22″ called “Feelin’ 32″ on BuzzFeed.

Felt somewhat better.

Checked the calories of Jameson Irish Whisky.

Resisted.

Showered.

Wrote this.

Romans 7

romans7-15(Image Courtesy of re-Ver(sing) Verses)

I once was a defiled symphony
violin strings binding wrists
screeching selfishly
until my spotlight blew
and I saw the theater, empty.

I went searching for anyone
who would hear my show.
I found some who, deaf and dumb,
couldn’t say no.

I sucked their venom
and felt powerful, filled with pride,
until, unseen, I regurgitated black
spiteful, slow suicide.

Each time I ended in a waiting room, alone
with dull eyes, asking for cure.
Freely given, I was told
I wouldn’t feel the venom anymore.

But the poison had done its work.
It spread to my brain,
turned my soul to stone,
and I needed more, again and again.

The first time I listened to the quiet
I found You
calling to my sick spirit
then blessing it anew.

I exclaimed hallelujah,
then betrayed You in the same breath,
unable to admit that
I was the cause of my impending death.

I tried to bribe You several times.
For years I was unable to accept
that to make my soul white
only You could pay my debt.

The war inside continues
But, each day, becoming less and less.
Peace stands on the horizon
All I have to do is say, “Yes.”

Boston Early Evening

Reblogged from Don in Massachusetts:

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Skyline photo of Boston at dusk/early evening.

Click on photo to enlarge.

Source

Read more… 2 more words

There are about 12 weeks until I am back in the beautiful city I call home, Boston. I wanted to share this magnificent photo of the Boston skyline shared by Don in Massachusetts. Check out his blog for more great photos he finds and shares. I have a photo of the Boston skyline pinned to the board behind my desk. I took it on the ferry to George's Island in Boston Harbor. My Dad and I love to visit George's Island, which is home to historic Fort Warren and served as a prison for Confederate soldiers during the Civil War. Each time we visit, we search for "The Lady in Black," who is said to haunt the island. According to the local lore, she is the ghost of a Confederate prisoner's wife who was sentenced to death for aiding in an escape after disguising herself as a male soldier. She was hanged in a black robe, which was the best the soldiers could do to accommodate her last request of being executed in female clothing. While we've never found her, we've felt The Lady in Black's eerie presence on the island, even on the sunniest of days. Today I took the photo of Boston's skyline off my board and placed it on my desk. Boston is now in front of me; no longer behind me. (Apologies for lack of paragraph format. I tried to put spaces between my paragraphs, but it won't let me on a reblog. I even tried coding it, but it didn't work. If anybody knows how to fix that issue, please let me know!)
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