Making sense of tragedy: Adam Lanza, NRA, Sandy Hook Elementary, gun violence, Newtown and mental health

I wasn't going to write about this because it's overwhelming - I don't know what I feel (or should feel) as a bystander to tragedy. However, after witnessing the virtual war over gun control, mental illness and God, I feel the urge to debrief.
The news reached across the globe. On Friday, Dec 14, 2012, after murdering his mother in her bed, Adam Lanza, 20, stole three of her weapons (she owned six), walked into Sandy Hook Elementary and never walked out. He murdered 26 people, including 20 children ages 6 and 7. Authorities report he had enough ammunition to murder many, many more.
Mass murders are devastating and unnerving but this one ... 20 children ages 6 and 7 in a sleepy town in Connecticut? Children. Connecticut. As Americans we are not immune to mass shootings (the "Dark Knight" movie theater shooting was only five months ago) but children ... that was out of our scope of possibility. Children of all ages are no longer safe at school. Sleepy towns are no longer sleepy. The age of innocence is growing younger every year until the time will come when no one is free from violence and adult content. There will no longer be childhoods, on the gritty, harsh reality of life.
I won't indulge my feelings because I don't know how I feel. I think that's OK, it's OK to not know, to be numb from senseless acts of violence. To be numb from movie theatre massacres, shopping mall shootings and, especially, mass murders at elementary schools. This isn't supposed to happen because it's inhuman. It's evil. We're at war with an invisible enemy: mental disease.
I know my feelings in reference to others and the thoughts they've shared in stark, naked honesty on the Internet. Their thoughts are full of absolutes and unshakable substance -- almost as unnerving as random acts of violence. Why aren't others without words like I am? Why aren't others unsure of what this tragedy means and how America should react? Why don't others understand it's not simple because life isn't simple? Maybe there are many like me and they simply choose not to respond on social media. It's the fanatics who shout from rooftops as if that's the only way their feelings will matter. Facebook and Twitter are on one big rooftop, overlooking the world.
Eddie Nimibutr, owner (which has been disputed) and chef of the Austin, Texas restaurant Thai Noodle House commented: "I'm failing to give a damn about the CT shooting. I don't care if a bunch of white kids got killed. Fuck post-racial bullshit. When kids from minority groups get shot, nobody cares. When Israel launched missiles at the school on Gaza, everybody was too busy jerking off. Why should I care about people who don't give a damn about me? Personal responsibility, right?"
He later commented: "I am no fool to just feel and just believe the hypocrisy in our society the way everyone told me how to. Lots of people are mad at me for the thing I said. Some called with threat of violence. I laughed at the Internet tough guys, but I reported to the police. I am educated and believe in my rights of the Freedom of Speech ... If you don't like me or my opinions, I suggest you to unfriend me and fuck off. I am pretty much sick of some people telling me what to think, how to think, or how to feel today, and if you don't like my foods, fuck off and eat someplace else."
Although he's a hypocrite, among other things, I agree there are horrific crimes being committed everyday, especially in Syria. Unspeakable acts of violence hardly evoking a cringe or attention when quickly uttered on the evening news we, most likely, DVR because we're busy. Too busy for the news, how pathetic. However, it's different when it happens in your country, especially in America where we proudly wear Americanism on our sleeve next to our hearts. It's different because the majority of the dead are children. Children were gunned down as if they were a threat. Maybe you pull a Columbine and gun down your classmates because you were bullied and emotionally beaten down ... it's not OK in any stretch of the imagination but it's a lesson in psychology we can grasp when trying to make sense of it all. There's no rhyme or reason to why a 20-year-old would shoot children just as it's difficult to comprehend why someone would shoot moviegoers.
Random acts of violence are the scariest because that means you are never safe, not even at once safe havens like an elementary school. Yes, maybe Adam Lanza wanted notoriety but we, as a society, need to examine the why before we can discuss the what now.
As I'm making my list and checking it twice for Christmas, I'm guilty. I didn't know the people and children murdered, I don't know the survivors, I've never been to Newtown, Ct. and I don't know the people affected directly by this tragedy. I've never had a friend or family member murdered. I can't imagine the pain and suffering they are going through right this second and will go through for the rest of their lives: the survivors guilt, the what if, the regret, the anger. However, I can't help but feel troubled and guilty, like I'm under a black cloud. Guilty for laughing at a joke, guilty for being cynical, guilty for enjoying celebrity gossip, guilty for getting annoyed when my mother babbles too long on the phone or the person in front of me drives 40 in a 55 mph zone, guilty for knowing this incident will soon lose its hold and I'll continue sweating the small stuff. I try to remember to be grateful for what and who I have because I never know when I'll take my last breath or when the ones I love will take theirs ... even with this in mind, I'm still troubled.
It's never one thing. It's not because of this random act of violence further reminding us we are not safe. It's not because it involved 20 children being gunned down while hundreds waited in fear. It's also because of the reaction from people I know and don't know -- everyone has an opinion and they want YOU to know about it ...
A relative made it an abortion issue: thousands of children are slaughtered every day in abortion clinics and rarely get a single word spoken for them. This person is a religious zealot so, I figured, she's in the minority (hopefully) along with the Westboro Baptist Church, which planned to picket the funerals.
Another commented the mentally ill should remember, when diving off the deep end, to kill themselves and not others ... don't think those individuals work that way.
Before I venture into Second Amendment talk, I hope this obsession with guns and the NRA (both pro and con) doesn't overshadow the need for mental health advocacy. To many people, the mentally ill are difficult to understand -- how someone can be so distraught they'd consider suicide. You've never felt that way so to keep from feeling uncomfortable you hope this person snaps out of it and goes back to normal. Come on, times are tough but buck up little camper. Mothers of mentally ill children, most likely, feel they failed their offspring because what's your first thought after Adam Lanza's rampage? His parents failed him. It's this mentality which makes the mentally ill uncomfortable with seeking help and makes parents uncomfortable with seeking help for their children. Typically the mentally ill need a support system if they are going to seek treatment/help and be successful. If they can't fathom confiding in their loved ones, how are they going to confide in a doctor and follow a treatment plan? The stigma needs to go away and psychiatric help needs to be less about co-pays and the good doctors being out of network, and more about helping those who need it most. Mental health needs to be less embarrassing. Yes, shame on his mother but considering she was an end-of-the-world stash-piling-weapons sorta gal, shame on the people who knew them for not intervening. Hindsight is 20-20.
If I told you I had breast cancer, how would you react? If I told you I was bipolar, how would you react? Or how about something less mainstream, like Aspergers? Your reaction is what needs to change in America.
Then there's the endless gun ranting, including proposing every teacher carry a handgun for protection -- which means a loaded handgun in each classroom (is this frightening to anyone else?) -- and expressing fear the government will take their guns away.
I think people who enjoy hunting are great, I am related to a hunter and love him dearly. There's something beautiful about providing for your family, something traditional and human. If you want to purchase a hunting rifle and, after going through a thorough background check and obtaining a license, then more power to you. However, no civilian should own a semiautomatic Bushmaster .223 rifle with a 30-round magazine -- the gun Adam Lanza used and the same gun involved in the D.C. sniper shootings. No civilian needs a semiautomatic killing device. No civilian needs a stockpile of ammunition. Two handguns and a shotgun were also recovered at Sandy Hook. You can be a responsible rifle owner and hunter or target shooter but I don't understand the logic of a responsible semiautomatic owner ... it's like me saying I'm a responsible rocket launcher owner. Why do I need a rocket launcher? Sure, maybe I like rocket launchers but I don't need one.
The Second Amendment was adopted December 15, 1791 -- a lot changed these 221 years.
Guns are designed to kill living, breathing animals and humans. You want to protect your own? The sound of a rifle cocking is enough to scare the most intelligent burglar away and, if not, the gun is locked and loaded. Government intrusion in your life is a frightening concept but, in most cases, needed because everyone is not as smart and stable as you think you are.
When I was young, my father taught me and my brother how to shoot a gun. It was a handgun and we practiced in our backyard. He didn't mouth off about gun rights, he didn't showcase this weapon as an extension of his manhood - he showed us how to use this device so we'd understand in case, heaven forbid, an intruder entered our home. He also held the demonstration so we'd be scared and understand the danger firsthand.
I understand what it means to be a responsible gun owner who doesn't hunt. My father, a raging Democrat bordering on the edge of liberal, has a gun in his home for protection. He doesn't have a Bushmaster .223 rifle or magazines for mass shooting. He has a small gun he keeps in a case. Why isn't that enough?
Even after writing, I didn't find answers. I don't feel less guilty or unnerved or helpless. If you agree with me, great. If you don't, that's OK too. I'm not a senator or congressman. I'm not in local government. I'm one of many who didn't die Friday. When it comes to random acts of violence, we are all survivors. No one is safe. Hopefully those in charge put aside their differences (fiscal cliff, hint hint), sit down, and talk. What are schools across America doing? They are reassessing safety protocols. Why shouldn't Congress reassess mental health and gun safety? I'm not giving answers -- I don't have any. A conversation needs to start now. Let's set aside preconceived notions and steadfast beliefs and look at mass murders. Look at gun laws and safety. Look at school safety. Look at mental health. Look to other countries for ideas and basis. People need to stop pretending (and most often believing) they have all the answers. No one does, not even the self-righteous NRA. Let's find some answers so Sandy Hook doesn't become the norm, so these teachers and children didn't die in vain.

Christmas with the Cynic: Jesus, Elf on a Shelf, Santa, Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah - Bah Humbug, pass the nog

My wall calendar caused great confusion today. It's almost Christmas? Another year almost gone, lost to Morgan Freeman's wormhole lurking in Stephen Hawkings butt -- isn't that where time goes to die? Our mystery ship is venturing further into years fit for sci-fi -- (Stardate 2013 - we should be living la via loca on Mars or carpooling with George Jetson to our job at Spacely Space Sprockets or being served Romulan ale by robot maid Rosie, who will one day malfunction and kill us all). In my real day job (my night job is being a m-fing, yolo-ing boss -- whatever that means) I am constantly reminded of the current date but, for some reason, didn't realize until today the sequence of numbers means it's almost Santa's birthday.
Eww. Cue the moment, every now and then, when you slow your roll and remember you're a fragile human on a swiftly turning planet covered with billions upon billions of creatures. You are 99% oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium and phosphorus and 1% freak. Do you exist or is this a dream? Wait, before I question existence, entering a full blown marijuana-free freak out (no bueno), let's come on back to our warm and fuzzy existence, safe from reality!
It's almost Christmas! Are you done spending money on others? Is your house decorated? Is your Christmas menu planned? If you have lady parts (or are a dude who looks like a lady), did you purchase a sparkly outfit, or three, for holiday parties you'll ruin with regurgitated chunks of egg nog, guilt and shame? Do you feel the Christmas spirit coursing through your veins like tiger blood? If you're anything like me, has the urge to binge drink increased by 300%?
You hear that? Hark! It's an angel getting its wings. Did you get the coupon in your e-mail? I hope it didn't get stuck in your spam filter because you'll miss out! If you spend more than $250 at the mall, an angel will get its wings, and if you spend $500, God will love you. Oh wait, you flipped off a man while backing into a space in the mall parking lot and mumbled nasty things under your liquory breath while in the long line at the Apple store. Go directly to jail, do not collect $200 and God does not love you.
It doesn't feel like Christmas but what's Christmas supposed to feel like? It's not snowing (save your global warming talk for Al "I Created The Internet" Gore -- ever notice how he sounds like Forrest Gump and looks like Kirstie Alley?). I'm not at a Christmas party, sipping on hootch in holiday attire while purposely forgetting my diet and munching on creamy dips, chocolates and buttery cookies like Bridget Jones -- it's Christmastime so it doesn't count. I stopped getting weeks of Christmas vacation after college (wah) and this year the calendar wants to further slap me in the face with Christmas on a Tuesday. Rude. I'm at m-fing work yo cuz it ain't the freakin weekend and even R Kelly isn't going to have himself a urinating good time.
I heard a Salvation Army bell ringing the other day -- which makes me think of Christmas. Not particularly in a good way because I don't trust charitable organizations -- where is my money going? I haven't seen any fake ass poser Santa's yet, which is good because they give me the heebie jeebies like clowns.
I'm every nightmare you've ever had. I'm your worst dream come true. I'm everything you ever were afraid of.
There's a war on Christmas raging in the U.S. because the reason for the season has been forgotten in favor of getting down on our knees and praising Santa, sappy Hallmark cards, filled stockings, poisonous poinsettias, Christmas carols covered by losers like Mariah "Monkey Face" Carey, suck-my-honkey-lips mistletoe, Pop Rocks candy canes, Rudolph and his alcoholic nose, tolerance for other holidays, prickly holly, yule logs, fire hazard trees, gift-giving, fruitcake, awful sweaters and Xmas. Baby Jesus War Soldiers become upset when you wish them Happy Holidays or Season's Greetings instead of Merry Christmas, which is interesting because my Jewish friends don't get riled up when you completely forget about their existence all together and speak about their holiday in hushed tones and wonder.
I don't think there's a war on Christmas. The media profits from this fiction by hyping a small group of hysterical people because it's an easy way to elicit a response from the public. It's either "this season celebrate reason" or "Jesus is the reason for the season."
You know what? It's Dec. 13, 2012. There are 12 days left until Christmas. No, I'm not filled with the Christmas Spirit like a Port-o-John but that's OK. I'm not the type to be over-joyous and it's not Christmas yet. In our material obsessed culture, Christmas and Christmas Eve has expanded like a fat lady in spandex to black out December and the end of November. The season starts with Thanksgiving and doesn't stop its bombardment until you're hungover and broke Jan. 1 and filled with enough guilt and shame to last the year, as well as a low threshold for emotion. I was hungover the other day (shocking) and cried during a jewelry commercial. No, it didn't feature mind numbing Jane Seymour: Open your heart and love will find its way in ... open the large vital organ pumping inside me so your love can creep in like nerve gas? Fat chance Dr. Quinn. It was a better commercial than that but was still a jewelry commercial -- booze, you perplexing seductor, I love you, always and forever.
So, don't feel bad if you're more Willie Stokes than Buddy the Elf. When Christmas Eve rolls around, that's the time to enjoy being with friends and family and remember life isn't about Facebook statuses, Twitter updates, deadlines and bumper-to-bumper traffic. It's not about 50% off sales, reality television, blockbuster movies, or even, sigh, strong booze and filtered cigarettes. My reason for the season is remembering to be thankful for what I have and remembering to be nice and, if I can't, drink heavily and keep my big, fat mouth shut.