The Problems with Americans and Guns

           The Wild Wild West. The Industrial Age. The Age of Information. We have learned so much throughout time, yet so many fail to look to history to find the answers to the present problems.

            America was born in violent revolution. We seceded from England because the British government refused to represent our interests during Parliamentary proceedings. We have Founding Fathers who stood strongly against the banks, and we have time in our history when we existed without a “Federal Reserve” or any big-bank entities that create misery wherever they take hold. Due to our diverse population and thus our diverse set of ideals, our people have always disagreed on every topic. Our government is made up of a Democratic Republic, not a Democracy, not Communism, and not Parliament. Yet, we see our American dream—something that was cultivated in our early years and greatly enforced during Westward Expansion after our Civil War—is under direct attack, has been for a long time, and is getting worse.

            There has been another mass shooting at another school, this time in Florida. I don’t keep up with all of them, I’m just glad it hasn’t happened in my neighbourhood. I realize how blessed I am, for it is not a privilege to live without fear of your neighbours, it only seems so to those who cannot do so.

            Many people say that America should be like Australia and implement a gun ban and subsequent mandatory buy-back program for banned firearms. However, this idea has many flaws, primary among them being complete lack of Constitutionality. While it is true that Australia’s rates of violent crime have fallen over the years since they implemented their first gun bans in 1996, people who use these statistics to support their unconstitutional “ban-all-guns” ideology fail to recognize that there is never only one reason for something like this. The falling rates in violent crime in Australia have many more causes than simply lack of availability of firearms. For one thing—and this is something that Leftists also say America should mimic, and for this point, I would agree—Australia has a single-payer healthcare system and no Australian citizen needs to fear for lack of availability of care when he or she is sick or has a serious health issue. While it can be good to look at other countries for ideas, it does not do to encourage people in America to demand mimicry. Australia’s drop in violent crime since their gun bans began in 1996 has absolutely been the result of multiple factors, but all anyone can really see is a statistic showing trends.

Australian Violent Crime Trends, 1996-2013

            America is meant to stand alone, stand tall, and stand strong, United States whose unity is fierce and fearsome. Instead, we have become divided, poisoned by the corruption in our government and legal systems that continue to pass damaging legislation that keeps us at war with other countries and continues to pull resources away from the very people who make the country what it is.

            America has a corruption problem in our politics, our legal system, our law enforcement system, our education system, and it all stems from a problem in our banking system. I say this with a measure of hesitation, for it is a large accusation to make, but from what I have seen, all our problems come from people with large amounts of money wishing to make larger amounts of money and exert control over those who do not have as much money. This ultimately leads back to the banks, all of which have teams of lawyers and lawmakers working for them to affect laws in their favour.

            Naturally, America is not the only country with this problem, but this is not the only problem the United States face. Our healthcare system is expensive and unsustainable. Our education system is grossly underfunded, and our culture discourages critical thinking and intellectualism. More and more people in America spend their time trying to start an independent business, selling goods and products, rather than taking up gainful employment that gives back to their communities and is beneficial and productive to society and culture.

            We have a country full of salesmen and businessmen and our culture is shutting down the artists, engineers, scientists, philosophers, social workers, teachers, doctors, and nurses. Instead of encouraging critical thinking and community, our culture continues to strongly encourage individualism, “us-vs-them” mentality, and a distinctly capitalistic attitude geared towards making a better bottom line for the sake of one’s own personal gain. This is evidenced by the constant ads you see, and all those Facebook friends who are constantly trying to sell you things and join them in their sales. These include things like BeachBody, ItWorks!, Scentsy, PartyLite, Younique, and various clothing brands, makeup brands, and more. People who manage to make money in this way typically use that money to create a lavish lifestyle full of vacations wherein they continuously move around, and do not create roots or meaningful personal connections with others that can last tests of time.

“We have a country full of salesmen and businessmen and our culture is shutting down the artists, engineers, scientists, philosophers, social workers, teachers, doctors, and nurses.”

            These people are all over social media, and if they aren’t selling a brand, they’re selling something from themselves, such as fitness routines, nutritional guidance, lifestyle advice, etc., and they spend all of their time broadcasting and making themselves bigger to make their money and live lifestyles that are egocentric. While some of them may contribute some of their monies to charities, these people are still not engaging in employment within their communities and within society that gives back to the people around them, even when they give back to those who helped them get to where they are in their success.

            Banning guns is not the solution.

            Bolstering our education systems is a solution.

            Reforming our healthcare system is a solution.

            Holding our politicians, lawyers, and bankers accountable is a solution.

Thanks for reading.

New Year's Eve, 2017-2018

            It is amazing how much can change in the span of a year, or even six months. This time last year, I thought the house I was in would be the house in which I would stay for at least two years, if not longer. By the time my birthday came around, I knew that would not be the case and I was not happy about it, but I remained hopeful and optimistic that everything would work out with the family I thought I was creating.    

            Now, 2018 looms on the morrow’s horizon and everything is different. Everything has changed.

            I entered 2017 as optimistically as I have entered the past few years—with hopes, telling myself that this would be my year. Nothing would stop me, nothing would come in my way, this would be my year to get my shit together, figure out my life, and move the fuck forward with real goals and real progress.

            When I made that resolution, I had no idea what it would take for it to come true. When they say, “Be careful what you wish for or you just might get it,” they are not kidding. I have come to the idea that when someone makes a wish—an earnest, true wish—it is released to the Universe and the Universe will grant that wish. The catch is that the wish will never be granted the way you imagine it to be. Never.

            As it turned out, 2017 was difficult, but ultimately I have met much of what I wanted to do. My blog has not remained as active as I had set out to make it, but given my limited audience, I’m not really hurt about that. I know that as I take my time getting all of my ducks in a row, blogging will fall into the pattern of routine. I have been journaling again, nearly every night, before bed. I write down my innermost thoughts and feelings, those intrusive things that come unbidden to my mind and would linger, festering, if not for the release of ink into paper.

            The year draws to a close and as the end, and a new beginning, draw nearer, I find myself reflecting on my own thoughts yet again. I did not imagine I would be in another apartment, nor did I think I would still be renting. I never dreamed that I would be alone with my beautiful daughter. I know a handful of people who have managed to purchase homes, moving forward with life in that typical way that our society deems normal and acceptable. People with whom I went to high school are getting married, having babies, and purchasing houses as if we still lived in the Golden Age of American Financing (also known as the years during which income taxes on the highest income bracket were over 90%). When I compare myself to them, I think I am somehow coming up short on my potential, that somehow I am not living in the timeline I was meant to and instead I am in many ways retarded—lacking in some crucial fashion that others are not.

“People with whom I went to high school are getting married, having babies, and purchasing houses as if we still lived in the Golden Age of American Financing.”

            As 2017 ends and 2018 begins, I find the futility in making such comparisons. It does not do to compare myself to my peers in this way, for my journey in life has been nothing like theirs. These people lived in nuclear households, having both parents and full siblings with whom they lived stable lives and learned how they belong in this world.

            While my peers had stability, love, support, and the sense of belonging no matter what, I had other issues to face. My parents were never together; they were never married and they never lived under the same roof. My mother had four children, each with a different father, and my own dad fathered his second child when I was 20 years old. My family is wrought with mental illnesses, including depression, anxiety, and dementia (in old age). Those who were my peers and suffered similarly became people I called friends, but even then, I felt as though I didn’t belong.

            Ultimately, realizing the differences between myself and my peers in terms of what has led each of us to this point in our lives helps me to realize that I cannot compare myself to them, nor can they do so to me. I have a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment at a lower monthly rental rate than any other apartment complex or house within 100 miles. I am located conveniently close to my school (I can ride my bicycle to class), with my daughter’s new preschool within walking distance of our new home. The mall is within walking distance of our new home, and my best friend lives a mere 5-minute drive away.

            So, I am in an apartment. I have less square footage to maintain than my peers with full-size houses of their own. I do not need to worry about paying for my own garbage disposal, water usage, or sewage service. I have no HOA fees to pay, nor property taxes. I may be a single mother now, but I have friends who come to see me and I have friends who invite me out to do things. My daughter is developing much better than she was, six months ago. Her speech has vastly improved, and it has become clearer even in the mere month during which we’ve lived in our new place.

Happy New Year!

A Poem: Call for Help

I put my heart into the wrong container,

expecting it to be healing and warm.

Instead, what I found was a complainer

whose affection hit me like chloroform.

In those years, every time I would wake

and work to fix the situation at hand,

instead I would find a man like a snake,

all too ready to lie and misunderstand.

My inner strength was sapped away,

stolen in pieces, he’d ruin it, bit by bit.

A kick or punch is so much clearer by day

than the words upon which he would sit.

How I was so blind, I ask myself daily,

wondering how I could be so broken.

If only he’d hit me, punching as gayly

as his words and dismissal were spoken.

Now, I find myself in a vice-grip by fear,

its cold, dead fingers attached like a leech.

My first instinct is to run away, steer clear

of any affection—anxiety makes me screech.

Please, I implore, help me pick up the pieces

of what is left in the aftermath of this fall.

Alone, impossible, but with help, it ceases

to be something for which I feel I cannot call.