In my time as a journalist, I have probably endured more city council meetings than I can count. Not only city council meetings, but planning and zoning meetings, public complaint sessions, and press conferences, all of which have one thing in common: most Americans have no clue what is happening in these meetings or even care what happens in these meetings.
Yet, as members of the free press, and public servants to our communities, we press on and write multiple articles every single day that largely go unread. Unlike many people on social media tend to believe, the “mainstream media” does not ignore events. In fact, I could almost guarantee that every single day there are journalists across this country attending bake sales, elementary school events, and ribbon cutting ceremonies. Likewise, there are journalists on the scene at traffic accidents, when homes go up in flames, and at robberies. Then there are journalists like me, who scheduled his weeknights around the meetings that almost always dragged on. I do not mention this to make anyone feel bad for journalists. It can be a thankless job, but I have never met a journalist who went into the industry with the hopes to have “perks” or attention. Journalists do this job because they want to document a rough draft of history and be a voice for the voiceless. That is why it is so disheartening to talk to journalists over the last five years as they have been worn down, exhausted, and vilified by the world events and more frankly the misinformation campaign by the Trump administration. Better journalists than I persevered during this period, but I took a step back. It would be easy to blame Trump for this tumultuous time. It would be easy to blame Youtube conspiracists like InfoWars or Qanaon, mostly because these groups played a large part in “the big lie” as it is now being called. However, stopping the conversation here would not do anything to help our country move forward. Now, it is time for the media to take responsibility too. THE STATE OF THE MEDIA I mention my time covering city council meetings because I tended to see the same things repeatedly. First, there would be citizens showing up because they are angry. The angrier these people were, the less they were willing to observe the average protocol at these meetings. Next, there would be politicians who did not want to be there. See, the angrier the people who showed up got, the less likely it was for the elected officials to want to hear them. Finally, I would take notes during the entire meeting, write up my story within the hour and go to bed by midnight. The next day I would typically have council members upset about what I wrote, and I would have citizens upset about what I wrote. The one thing that these two could bond on is that “The media didn’t treat them fairly.” Sure, typically it was one or the other depending on how balanced I was able to use the quotes or not, but all of these individuals failed to see the reason that the press was at the meeting was to inform the people who were not there. Likewise, that is the point of the media on a bigger scale when it comes to national politics. Many believe that the media “isn’t covering” something because they heard these rumors on the dark web. This has sowed distrust in the media, and to save our institution, we must do better. We must have more transparency. This is a tough ask considering most people do not get their news from a news source anymore. No one reads a newspaper. They share headlines on Facebook and do not check the source. Many use the word “media” as an umbrella term for anything they read or hear, so journalists in 2021 have a battle to prove that they are fair and balanced. While daily press briefings and the correspondent’s dinner will be returning with President Joseph Biden to the White House, the distrust in the media and politicians is already there. “The liberal media” is what conservatives and nonpartisans call the press. The divide only gets stronger as conservatives drop Facebook for Parler, Fox News for 4chan, and Democracy for nationalism, the road to recovery will be hard, but not impossible. Journalists must separate themselves from advertisers. We must stop believing that 24-hour news channels are “news.” We must rebuild the reputation of the media so confusing journalists with Youtubers would be ludicrous. To do this, we have to stick to the facts. We must be critical of the new administration. We have to stop the sensational spin on the news. It is imperative that we return to normal, a normal that existed when the leadership in America wasn’t a showman. As people have turned away from the news for “alternative facts” and baseless claims, it is more important than ever that access to the truth, access to fair and unbiased news, and access to multiple sources is re-established. January 20 is the start of a new day, a new year, and a new era of America. If we continue down the path that we’ve been heading since 2015, the press will consume itself before it even realizes the damage it has caused. The free press must go on.
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Yes, I’ve written about Star Wars before. Earlier this year I compared celebrations in the saga to those in my own life, but now, we’re just days away from celebrating another milestone together, my Star Wars family and me: the end of the Skywalker Saga that started 42 years ago.
Every Saga Has a Beginning… However, it was only 20 years ago that that I was first introduced to the story of space wizards, aliens and the force. I wasn’t alive for the original trilogy. I didn’t grow up with Han, Luke, Leia or Chewbacca and for me there were no princesses or smugglers. I eventually did fall in love with the magic and adventure of episodes IV, V, VI, but that was after I was introduced to trade negotiations a Queen and battle droids. The Phantom Menace was my Star Wars. Somewhere between the ages of two and five, I experienced the original trilogy as a VHS combo-pack. Special editions, of course. I saw Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith in theatres in the years after. I never get bored of senate discussions or CGI battle scenes. I have nothing but love for my introduction to the saga. A Jedi Shall Not Know Anger. Nor Hatred. Nor Love… And over the last two decades I have experienced a lot of Star Wars. I don’t think there has ever been a better time to be a fan of all things pop culture, including the Wars. During this time, I’ve learned a lot, and answered the call to my own hero’s journey, if you will. I learned that we all have a dark side to conquer. Like Luke in the cave on Dagobah or like Obi-Wan facing the terrifying Darth Vader, there comes a time when we must face the darkness this universe has to offer. Sometimes, that’s our own personal demons. Sometimes, it’s our failures coming back to haunt us. Whatever the case, being fast to anger or hatred is the pathway to the dark side. The hero always fights for the oppressed and always does the next right thing. The Circle is Now Complete… Then teach your children how to be kind too. Pass on all you know. It’s our duty to the galaxy to teach the younglings the lessons that we’ve learned. As Master Yoda said, “we are what they grow beyond.” Honestly, each generation isn’t that different from the last. We all have a story to tell and can learn from one another. Our egos are what keep us from seeing the Sith’s master plan. There are people who want to divide us so that while we are fighting each other, they can move in the shadows as a phantom menace. Communication is key to closing the gaps. It’s a circle that, if interrupted, cannot be completed. Talk to people you don’t know or don’t like. You might find out that the Tusken Raider isn’t a savage and actually speaks sign language…if you can indulge my super specific metaphor. A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away… Another thing I learned from Star Wars is that we don’t all look alike, and that’s okay. Remember the cantina scene in A New Hope where the bartender specifically engages in some droid-racism? Not cool, at all. It’s better not to be lemonade Linda or Barbeque Becky or the bartender in the Mos Eisley Cantina. Everyone in this world has an important part to play and we should all learn to get along. Beware of old white dudes sitting on their thrones asking you to give in to your anger. They want to use you. There Has Been an Awakening, Have You Felt It…. Sometimes, you don’t know when an end will lead to a new beginning. An awakening, even. As Star Wars fans we have had the opportunity to say goodbye to the Saga three times now. The dread of saying goodbye can sometimes be too much for anyone, but behind every goodbye is the opportunity for another hello. Let people go. If they really mean something to you, they’re never really gone. Whether it’s a force ghost or a forbidden attachment, no one’s ever really gone. Let the Past Die, Kill It if You Have To…. And don’t hold grudges. Sometimes you’re granted the rank of master and you aren’t allowed a seat on the council. These things happen. It is better to let go of the negative emotions we sometimes hold against another person. Life is too short to waste it away with a grudge that is insignificant in the long run. One’s happiness is entirely dependent on their attitude. You can make your own destiny just by looking for the good in the world. The Saga Come to an End. The Story Lives Forever… Above all, don’t let anyone make you feel less important than you are. You don’t need to be the chosen one or have a high midichlorian count to know you matter in this world. Whether your parents are junkers who sold you on Jakku, or you are the grandchild of Darth Vader, hold your head up high and be who you are meant to be. The Star Wars story is littered with themes of lineage, personal journey and more. Life has changed drastically since I was a little boy with a crush on Natalie Portman. I don’t know who I would be without this incredible Saga in my life. When I was at my most fragile, during the hardest times, Star Wars became an anchor in my life. If you aren’t a Star Wars fan, and I’m surprised you made it this far in this article if not, then find joy in something you do love. Hold onto that happiness and don’t let anyone try and snuff out your light. May the force be with you forever. [email protected] @GrahamWoodMedia I’ve got a lot of growing up to do.
When I was younger, I always wanted to move away from home. I would tell my parents stuff like, “oh, there’s no point to installing permanent bookshelves in my bedroom, I’m moving out soon, and I’d rather take the shelves with me.” I was 12 when I said this. As soon as I was a teenager, I knew I planned to leave my parents and family behind to find a “bigger and better” life beyond the Idaho potato fields I grew up in. (Note: In reality, I lived much closer to a cemetery than a potato field, but folks tend to believe Idaho is wall to wall with potatoes.) (Secondary note: Potato fields are actually found in the ground, not on walls, and sometimes, when I was younger, my father would tell me my ears were so dirty potato fields were starting to appear there too.) So, I said, “I’m 15 guys. This means that I am only one year until I need to be planning for college and then one year until my senior year and then the next year I’m moving away. I should basically start packing now.” My mother never said anything, but she would smile and nod, which I’ve realized has come to be her signature expression. Always the peacekeeper that she is, she didn’t want to think that I may leave soon but also didn’t want to crush my dreams. Inevitably, the time did come for me to move away from home and I’ve had quite the life since then. I’ve felt so grown for so long, that now, at 22, I feel so unprepared for what’s to come. A LITTLE BACKGROUND Honestly, I’ve been through all sorts of phases to get to the position I’m in today. During my prepubescent years I had an intense obsession with Care Bears, those Hallmark greeting-card plushies with their own sitcom and unique belly badges. When I was in my formative teenage years, I took a deep dive into the whole vampire-romance genre, as much as I wish I could forget it. And now, as an adult, I have a huge obsession with going to the movies to see muscular superheroes in colorful tight outfits. These phases have defined me and I’ve been able to recall my life in various ways because of them. I can track myself through pop culture. I can talk about how I was a different person each school year I attended. Or I can separate my experience based on who I dated and how long I was with them. I can even tell you where I was in my life for each Lady Gaga album release. My corner of Idaho has a population of 11,000 people. My parents didn’t finish High School and my father has worked as a laborer all his life. I was encouraged to go to college and my parents have helped me out every step of the way, even when they didn’t what or where the steps were. My senior year left me in a hurry to leave home. I worried that if I graduated on Friday and I wasn’t packed and ready to leave by Saturday, my future would escape me. I worried that I would be stuck in a Christian home, which in hindsight was both loving and supportive, and I would end up working at Taco Bell until I was 50. (Which isn’t a problem if you enjoy middle-aged white women screaming about their Nacho Bell Grande being Fresco-style.) I wanted out. My defining feature from the age of 16 to 18 was really “get me out of here, my hormones are out of balance” and looking back I probably squandered away a lot of opportunities for friends because I was so focused with what comes next rather than that spectacular now. I was an over-achiever. Probably because I had an impossible goal to obtain and a fear of the unobtainable. THE PLACE WHERE THE SAGEBRUSH GROWS I had a relative ask me what an “Aggie” is and I told them, “I don’t know, but their mascot is a big blue bull, so that’s a thing.” And that summer I went off to college. I wasn’t the type of person who believed I was ever going back home. I moved everything from my bedroom in Idaho to my new apartment. When people went home for the summer, I stayed. My parents helped me with this change and even stayed the night with me, my first night alone in a new place, when they saw that I was more scared than I thought. Recently I graduated from the college in this “small town” of almost 52,000 people. The last four years had some amazing highs and incredible, painful lows. By the time graduation came around, many of the locations in the city caused me a lot of heartache and regret. This was a major factor in the decision to uproot my life once again. All the way up to last week I believed that I had a pretty good handle on life. I mean, I have a degree, I am no longer 15, I’m a man who can do anything and the world is for the taking, right? THE WOMAN AT THE DESSERTS BUFFET Then last night I cried. I just moved to a town with the population of almost 118,000 people, and there are multiple big cities around it with just as much or twice as many people. (I’m working my way up to a city the size of Los Angeles.) The last week I have felt confident that this change was going to be a great thing, only having three specific concerns that aren’t even important to write here, and it felt like the “grown up,” college degree-having decision that I should make. I mean, “there are so many career opportunities here” I told myself, and I made a goal never to work fast food or retail again. This weekend, now on day three, I have been lucky enough to have my parents’ help once again with moving furniture, assembling shelves, laughing together and going to the local buffet to celebrate a job well done. (This is an Idaho-Mormon’s version of going out to the bar, and if there are funeral potatoes, you know it’s going to be lit.) At the buffet a ginger-haired lady of about five-foot-one and easily in here golden years was loading up a plate, usually reserved for entrée items because it is twice the size of the others, with desserts of all kinds. I watched as she placed two cookies, a slice of carrot cake, a brownie, a spoonful of apple crisp and some banana pudding to her pile. She saw me waiting behind her to grab my own sweets and she smiled at me. “Life’s for eating sugar and spending time with family,” she laughed. “Definitely,” I said, which is my go-to response when I haven’t processed what someone has said but I want them to know I was listening. I sat back down with my confections at the booth that was too small for my belly with the parents I had been so anxious to leave just four years ago. My mother made a comment about there being pineapple at the salad bar and my father said his chicken was too pink. This woman at the buffet had wigged me out and suddenly I was a little more sentimental than I had been the days before. This new home, a new phase beyond Care Bears or college, was going to take me even farther from that family, and today, it just doesn’t seem worth it. GROWING UP IS HARD TO DO You couldn’t have told me when I was racing to get entertainment magazines from the mailbox that my career wasn’t as important as I thought. You couldn’t have told me on my wedding day that my family was always going to be there for me. I wouldn’t have listened if someone had said that there might be a time that I would consider moving back to Idaho. The thing is, whenever I talked about wanting to be a writer, my parents supported me. Even though they didn’t attend my wedding, when the ovens at the venue didn’t work, my parents cooked the food at their home. At every new phase of my life, my parents have never let me go at it alone. Whether it is just advice or a listening ear, help moving or celebrating achievements, or even slipping me a twenty-dollar bill for gas money when I hadn’t asked, they have had my back. This makes me so nostalgic and homesick that I can’t even function. I spent a lot of time trying to get away, because my parents were different people then. We have both been through so much in the last four years and have been changed for the better. Now, I want to spend more time with this version of them. I regret not being closer and visiting more often. “Life’s for eating sugar and spending time with family,” I think to myself as I write these words. My apartment is unpacked. There’s a new city to explore. I think about funeral potatoes. Any day could be our last, so we should treasure the moments we have. I’ve grown a lot and will grow some more. With all these growing pains, I will never be grown enough not to miss my family. I have a year of unknown waiting ahead. [email protected] @GrahamWoodMedia Today I graduated from college, the only one in my family to achieve this goal despite being the youngest child in a family of six children. My entire family came to see me receive this recognition and we celebrated the day together. Anyone reading this is probably asking, “I though this was a blog post about Star Wars?” Believe me, it is, but I want to explain just why Star Wars is so important to me, why it has become synonymous with some of the happiest moments in my life, and how it helped me out of some of the darkest moments too. THE SAGA BEGINS Every story has a beginning, and likewise, every Star Wars story has a beginning. I wasn’t alive when the original trilogy of Star Wars films began with George Lucas in 1977. I didn’t grow up with Han, Luke, Leia or Chewbacca. For me, there were no princesses, smugglers, or Kowakian Monkey-lizards. Don’t get me wrong, I, like many others, fell in love with the magic and adventure of what would become Episodes IV through VI, but that was long after I was introduced to Star Wars in 1999. At the age of two, I had a crush on Padme Amidala, a Queen undercover desperately trying to save her home planet. I aspired to be like Obi-Wan Kenobi, a fearless Jedi Knight rushing into danger with his master at his side. However, overall, I longed to be like Anakin Skywalker, a child destined for greatness who, by happen-chance, was whisked away into a fantastical life he once could only dream of. The Phantom Menace was my Star Wars. Now sure, it’s probably a little hyperbolic to say that I experienced all these feelings as a toddler, but I watched this film repeatedly for the next few years before Attack of the Clones was released in 2002. (More on that later.) Somewhere between the age of two and five, I also experienced that original trilogy and I distinctly remember walking into a pawn shop with my parents and buying A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi in a VHS combo-pack. I asked my mom and dad, “If this is episode four, five and six, where is two and three?” I don’t know how I was adept enough to notice this discrepancy at the time, nor do I know how my parents were knowledgeable enough about “the Wars” to actually give me an answer, but I was, and they were. That’s the thing that I didn’t realize at the time. My parents were a part of my Star Wars journey from the very beginning. I mean, I’m only just realizing it, but they had to have been the ones to bring Star Wars into our home. For that, I’m grateful. The next Star Wars memory I have is opening weekend for Attack of the Clones. I remember standing in line for the theater, at a time when that was what one did if they wanted to be the first to see a movie. There were people of all ages dressed as Twi’leks and Jawas and Jedi, oh my. I remember sitting in the theater, never getting bored of trade routes, senate discussions, or CGI battle scenes. When Yoda fought Count Dooku at the end, the entire theatre erupted and cheered, and I remember seeing my mother smiling up at the screen. Now, on the 20th anniversary of The Phantom Menace I have nothing but love for my introduction to Star Wars and I am closer than ever to my parents. Though, it wasn’t always this way. THE FORCE IS AWAKE Thanksgiving Day 2014 was complicated. That summer I had gone through a rebellious phase and my teenage life was a mess. Possibly it was because I had no Jedi master to keep me on the right path, or because my life lacked the morality of the Jedi way, but I was lost both emotionally and spiritually. That summer I did drugs, I lost my virginity, I went through juvenile court and maybe most importantly, I told my parents that I was gay. This went as well as one might expect a screaming match in two separate cars in the Taco Bell parking lot could go. My parents were so upset and in disbelief that what I was saying was true. Maybe I could have told them to search their feelings and know it to be true, but at the time, Star Wars was the furthest from my mind. I didn’t go home for two days. I slept around at stranger’s homes while waiting for my parents to cool off. At some point they must have, or at least we didn’t speak about it, because soon I started my senior year of high school and I left my heathen ways behind me. However, holidays with family can be stressful. That year while the turkey was cooking, I hid in my bedroom watching Netflix and trying to disappear. I knew that many of my family members would have heard about “my problems.” They would have heard that the youngest child in a Christian family, me, is breaking the mold and tearing the family apart with Sodom and Gomorrah-style debauchery. I sat on my bed and I watched the finale episode of Star Wars: The Clone Wars. For some reason, the episode hit differently for me as I watched Padawan Ahsoka Tano leave the Jedi Order to forge her own path. After the holiday dinner, I sat on the couch in the living room, and then it happened. The first trailer for Star Wars: The Force Awakens arrived. This was the revival of Star Wars in film. This was where I was going to put all my energy for the next year. I would become obsessed, more-so than I already was, with Star Wars. And then I moved into my first apartment. THE SAGA CONTINUES My parents and I never spoke about my sexuality during the year after I first told them. During this time, I finished my high school career, moved to another state to go to college and decided that now was the time that I could be whoever I wanted to be. I am gay. I am agnostic. I am a Jedi, like my father before me. It almost broke me. My first semester in college was full of growing pain. I had to figure out who I was and looking for acceptance and love was the most important thing to me. I bent over backwards to make relationships work because I felt so alone. On a cold day in November 2015, I was on the phone with my mother and for the first time since Summer 2014, I told her again that I was gay. We argued, we cried, and she hung up the phone without saying, “I love you.” At the time I imagined that she probably did love me, but I had no way of knowing. This felt like the Han in carbonite scene from Empire if Leia had responded to Han’s declaration of love with, “oh, well this is awkward.” Aside from my deteriorating relationship with my parents, I was also going through a bad break-up and that morning, I crashed my car on main street and the police had to give me a ride home because I had no one to call. I had never felt so alone, and that night, despite all of the good things in my life, despite the fact that the return of Star Wars was less than a month away, I decided I was going to end my life. Now, as I sit here and type this, readers can exhale as I obviously didn’t complete the task. I made it out of this dark time in my life. The process of healing was more difficult than I am going to make it sound in this essay, but believe me when I say, Star Wars was the only thing left I had to look forward to. I counted the days to The Force Awakens and when I saw it in the theater, alone, it felt transcendent. I know it was just a normal movie but seeing Rey, a nobody with no parents find her place in the galaxy, resonated deeply with me. I cried while I watched the struggle of the dark and the light in Kylo Ren and when he inevitably killed his father. For me, the story was littered with themes around lineage and personal journey. A little too real for me at the time. At Christmas a week later, I told my parents about the film, we were still talking even though they still didn’t approve of my lifestyle, and to my surprise, we made plans to see the film together on Christmas Eve. When the film was over, I had the best, and longest, discussion with my parents than I had had in recent memory. We bonded over a space opera and for a moment, we forgot about our differences. This started a new tradition with my parents and I where we see every new Star Wars film in theatres together. This tradition has continued, now including my husband too. Life has changed drastically since I was a little boy with a crush on Natalie Portman. Today, I graduated from college cheered on from my parents and my husband standing side by side. My parents and I are counting down the days until this year’s Rise of Skywalker. Who would have known that when my life was the most fragile, during the hardest times, Star Wars would become an anchor that kept me from floating away? The force is with me now, and always. Happy Star Wars Day, my friends. [email protected] @GrahamWoodMedia Every generation
in America liked Christmas a lot... But the Millennial, with their avocados and student loans, did NOT! The Millennial killed Christmas, every present in sight. Now, please don’t ask why, for it wasn’t out of spite. It could be, because they work hard for this bread. It could be, perhaps, they didn’t get out of bed. But I think the most likely reason of all May have been that their apartment was two sizes too small. “Commercialism and greed!” they yelled in the street. “Change is a-coming!” and they picked up their feet. Then they Twittered and Insta’d their political cries, Only to come across some carefully targeted lies. “A gender-neutral Santa” the media claimed, “Is exactly the agenda those millennials aimed.” The millennial could not even for this was a trick, Thought up and created by their adversaries real quick. But all the internet users were quickly outraged, More-so at this than when children were caged. Fox News ran a story about Rudolph and Cupid being gay-lovers but who could be that stupid? Aunt Judy believed it, she shared it one night With a caption that read, “Oh, this isn’t right!” “Those Snowflakes have thin skin, back in my day, we didn’t get worked up and nobody was gay.” So while everyone argued about wrong and right The Christmas spirit disappeared out of sight. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is a perfectly good song!” said Uncle Joe not considering he may be wrong. There’s a war on Christmas and the government shut down. Somehow this too was the millennials’ fault now. The stores and the malls didn’t make enough money Older generations took notice and didn’t find it that funny. “Millennials killed Christmas by shopping on the web.” Cousin Anthony said to his kids, George and Deb. But Christmas gifts were spendy and no one had time to go to the store and spend every single last dime. “What’s wrong with convenience, free shipping and saving? Amazon has no lines, mall santas or ragin.” But this angered the old folk for times were a changin. “We don’t like new things, PC culture’s a sham. Global Warming isn't real, and God is our man So all the Americans put up their nativity and lights And with just days ‘til Christmas they continued their fights. They’d type and they’d type and they’d...type!...Type!...Type!...TYPE! They’d shout and they'd scream and share internet memes. “Those kids killed Applebees, golf, and detergent. “They must be stopped now for this is urgent!” However, millennials had grown apathetic They knew that these claims were becoming pathetic. They knew Christmas was coming, it wasn’t too late, To try to do good and force out all the hate. Each and every young person that new that they could, Used their platforms to spread an abundance of good. You see, for the millennials didn’t kill Christmas after all. That attempt happened by many people, big and small. If the spirit of the season you want to keep in sight, Set aside your name-calling and try to do right. Happy Christmas to each gender, race and generation. Truly, next year we must act as one nation. [email protected] @GrahamWoodMedia Photography and journalism are two of the most important things in my life. I continually strive to capture the faces of those around me. Here are 36 of my favorite photos for #WorldPhotographyDay2018.
#Thx4Now Dear Thanksgiving,
This month I have kept a running log of the daily things that I’m thankful for. As a salute to you, here is that list. November 1st: Today I'm thankful for Ross (yeah, I know, an obvious one) because he helped me clean the house, take down the Halloween decorations and we even put up the tree. (Not decorated, we'll wait till after Thanksgiving for that.) We figured while we're cleaning we might as well. Ross is such a wonderful, caring person and I couldn't do half of what I do without him. November 2: I'm thankful to live in a golden age of film. Ignoring the conglomeration and world domination that Disney is leading, I am still thankful for the company because in 2017 I am able to see new Star Wars movies and new Marvel movies each year. If Disney owned shares in the afterlife, I'd be ready to go right now. November 3rd: I'm thankful for my family and the support they are. November 4th: I'm thankful for my education and learning more every day. November 5th: I'm thankful for my job even though it keeps me away from quality Netflix time. November 6th: I am thankful for foresight and hindsight. Foresight to be able to see what others may not and hindsight to see what others refuse to see. November 7- I am thankful to live in America. Sure I complain about crumbling infrastructure and corrupt politicians but it's not all bad, we spend a lot of money on Amusement parks. That's rad. November 8 - I am thankful for this existence and the sentience it gives me. I know that I am growing and learning and changing and that my mind is just a computer operating an outdated software system inside a meat slab. I know I am host to a spirit who will one day be vital to this universe. I am thankful for the chance to have this human experience and grow. I can't wait to one day be 69 years old and have that one bit of human nature that will make me want to lie about my age or giggle when I say how old I am. Humanity is wierd. November 9 - I am especially thankful for my ability to form sentences filled with the most colorful words. If it weren't for my education and my talent as a writer I wouldn't know who I am. I am a thinker, a writer, and I love being able to express myself freely. Chalk this one up to freedom of speech too. I'm glad I can run my mouth in a pretty way and people will listen to me. November 10 - I'm thankful that it is becoming acceptable to speak out about things that used to be consider taboo or shameful. I hope this is the start of taking power from those who abuse it and the start of a healthy discussion about sex and respect for others. November 11 - I'm thankful for my cute pets. November 12 - I'm thankful for lazy Sunday's November 13 - I'm thankful for my parents because they taught me that sometimes the greatest lessons in life are learned late in life. November 14 - I'm thankful for my media bias group for helping to create 3 of the best projects this semester. November 15 - Teachers, doctors, and garbage men. Real heroes. November 16 - Opposition. How else will we grow? November 17 - I'm thankful for drinking fountains that have a proper (high) water pressure so it shoots into my mouth and I don't have to strain to get a drink. Great technology. November 18 - I'm thankful for this semester being almost over. November 19 - I'm thankful for spending every day with Ross, which makes up for the fact we won't be together for the holidays November 20 - I'm thankful for febreeze for keeping my house smelling so good November 21 - I'm thankful for life because two years ago I was in a hospital bed not so sure November 22 - I'm thankful that I only have to wait two more weeks to see my family again after Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving - I'm thankful that we could drive up to Idaho and back today with ease and safety. November 24 - I'm thankful to be seeing Katy Perry in SLC tonight. November 25 - I'm thankful for leftovers. November 26 - I'm thankful for my statistics teacher for her endurance throughout the Thanksgiving break to continue assigning homework despite the fact that I lost comprehension of the material two weeks ago and there's about one week left. November 27 - I'm thankful for the unknown and all that science, philosophy and religion tries to explain and the unexplainable. The Matrix, the Mandela Effect. The pigeon superstition. The butterfly effect. The chaos theory. The space-time continuum. The illusion of choice. Destiny. The string theory. The big crunch theory. The afterlife. I like that humanity has such an existential need to understand and that the universe has more to show us than we can know. November 28 – I’m thankful that for good friends who stick around even when we get busy, there’s distance, our lives continue and we go through weird emotional periods. I’m thankful that I always have friends to fall back on. November 29 and 30 hasn’t happened yet but I’ll add two more. I’m thankful that I have had time to get these blog posts written each week and I’m thankful for time in general, because it allows me to thank people in the here and now. #Thanks4Now E.L. Grahamwood Dear November 21st,
You are a day that I believe I am always going to remember. It’s been two years now and I’m in a much different place than I was back then, but somehow, I can’t forget about you. It’s as if that night is engraved in the side of my brain, forcing me to remember every detail. My first suicide attempt. It doesn’t even sound real. I truly am thankful for this moment in my life, not because it happened or because of the things that lead me to it, but because of everything that happened afterwards. As much pain as there was, how badly I was hurting inside, I began to truly try and make a change for the better. I’m not happy that it left my parents devastated and hurting. I’m not happy that it left me in debt and ruined one of my best friendships, but I am happy that I rose from it. I made goals and I looked inside myself to see what the issue was. Now I take medicine, but I learned to be introspective and listen to myself back then. It was a growing experience that I never could have wished for. I wished for many other things. To die, to be a different person, to not be unhappy, but I didn’t know that this cry for help was going ot be the true life-changer. I’m grateful for this day because of it. Now I am a different person. I’m married, in a good place, loving life, and I am striving every day to be better. It’s because of you that I am reaching for the stars, because I know how it feels to be buried beneath the Earth. May you never be forgotten. #Thanks4Now E.L. Grahamwood Dear President Donald J. Trump,
Congratulations on a year of “winning big.” From your own mouth, it’s true, no one wins bigger than Donald Trump. However, after a year of America dealing with your wins, it has become apparent that the American people have had the most losses. America has lost the respect of our foreign leaders who look at our country as if it is a joke. America has lost a leader who knows how to make the hard decisions and do what is best for the population. America has lost the safety and security it had when Barack Obama was in the white house. America has lost the reputation of the fair media. Americans lose while you win. After a year of every possible embarrassment that you can muster, it is nice to see that you are warming up into your position and taking a little time off to golf. I’m sure you win bigly considering you spend so much time on the golf course. I’m not complaining about that. I would much rather have you on the golf course enjoying yourself than sitting in the oval office. Have you heard of retirement? It’s incredible to think that America has survived the last year without falling apart under your lead. Sure, we witnessed the most violent mass shooting in U.S. history this year and sure Puerto Rico is barely surviving from a hurricane and yes, it’s true that we now have so much hate and fighting going on that literal Nazi’s are roaming the street, but that’s not your fault. You’re a victim of circumstance. It’s not like it’s your job to lead the people into peace, unity, prosperity, and growth. Oh wait, it is. Man up, Trump. #Thanks4Now E.L. Grahamwood. Dear Mr. Spacey,
Considering your recent sexual assault allegations, I am disappointed that you would choose now as the time to publicly announce that you are a gay man. Being gay is something that many people struggle with and I don’t want to diminish the value of your own personal journey in any way however, using this as a tactic to change the conversation is harmful to more than just your own reputation, it harms the reputation of all LGBTQ members and reinforces negative stereotypes about gay culture being sex-driven and that gay men are predators themselves. The media has quickly wrapped its hands around this story and the attention has spread to even the most casual of your fans and especially to your haters. It also spreads to those who seek to harm the LGBTQ community. Now we unfortunately have to look for positive examples of gay people in the media to overshadow your own issues. It is unfortunate to be welcomed into the LGBTQ community with this backlash, but that is a christening that every gay person has had to go through, so you will fit in. That said, it’s going to be a bumpy ride for redemption. #Thanks4Now E. L. Grahamwood |
Erick L. Graham Wood
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