Black Lives & Blue Skies

We gathered in the park – people of so many different faiths, so many different ages, so many different skin colors. We came to gather and to pray and to say collectively this isn’t okay. It shouldn’t be like this. One of our own should still be here today, one of our brothers shouldn’t be gone. A mentally ill person shouldn’t be backed into a corner with guns drawn; a 5150 call shouldn’t be responded to by officers on the offensive. Alfred’s life matters.photo-1469321589923-e19da1f4bfdc

And then we then marched. I didn’t feel unsafe, I didn’t feel uncomfortable – I felt a bit unsettled. It was peaceful, it was legal – but I didn’t really plan on it, if I’m being honest. I didn’t really expect it. I didn’t wake up that morning thinking I’d be walking in the streets, stopping traffic, waving signs with Alfred’s picture. We were walking by the El Cajon police station – 300 or so strong – and I looked up at the officers staring down at us from their second floor parking garage. We were chanting (“What do we want?”) JUSTICE (“When do we want it?”) NOW and I have to admit it felt a little eerie, staring up at the officers. I wanted to yell “This isn’t against you. We aren’t against you.

We’re against injustice. I think everyone should be. Read More

We’re On Fire

My office building caught on fire Wednesday.

Well, we weren’t sure it was a fire, the man pointed out, as there was smoke pouring out of his suite and fire fighters rushing in. There was just a lot of smoke.

It was a normal afternoon. I was stressed out, trying to prioritize too many tasks given to me at the same time, trying to figure out a way to make everyone happy. I really had to pee, but sometimes I ignore my bladder for the sake of getting work done. Healthy, I know.

I finally got up to walk to the bathroom down the hall, and smelled smoke. Not a lot, not a scary amount, but definitely smoke. I walked past a suite with the door open, smoke wafting out, and some people in the hallway. Awkward smiles, no explanations offered, I kept walking. Weird, I thought. Maybe someone blew something up in the microwave.

Until, a few minutes later, as I excited the bathroom, and I immediately smelled smoke. A lot, a scary amount, of definite smoke. I walked back and hesitantly asked, “Do we know what’s going on…?”

“Oh, there’s a fire,” a woman answered nonchalantly. Almost as if I simply asked what color her shoes were. Read More