I checked Twitter soon after and saw that one of the guys from my high school was going to go to the nearest high school with his group of friends to counter protest these ignorant people. He was asking other people to join him and said that the protest was at 6:55 in the morning and to be there at 6:30. The time of the morning killed me. I don't want to get up that early, I thought to myself. It was already getting late and I was tired. I messaged my mom on Facebook about what was happening (even though she was right upstairs), and after finding out that the protest was only supposed to be for half an hour, we both decided that it wouldn't kill us to stand outside for thirty minutes and take a stand against bullying. After all, I must do what I preach, right? This was my family town that was being targeted. I had to support them.
It was already midnight by the time we had made up our minds, so I stayed up and made posters to hold for our counter protest. Since Westboro is all "Christ friendly", I decided to use bible quotes against bible quotes. The two I used were:
Luke 23:34 Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." They divided his garments by casting lots.
Matthew 7:3 Why do you notice the splinter in your brother's eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own eye?
I felt as though these would be the two most significant verses in the bible for this occasion, and at six in the morning, my mom woke me up so that we could get our things together and drive down to the high school. It happened to be an extremely foggy morning, which I found quite funny, because I could just imagine the Westboro snobs getting lost in the mist. As we gathered our things and hopped into the car, I realized that we should have left sooner. It was already 6:30, and the school was quite a ways to drive to from where I lived. So as we started out, my mom asked God to give us green lights so that we would make it on time. Of course, with God, all you have to do is ask and He will provide. So we were given green lights all the way to the school, and by the time we got there, the sidewalk was already lined up with rainbow flags and unicorns and picket signs of every shape and size. It was a never-ending trail of cheering pride, and as we parked the car and headed over to this gigantic crowd of people, I couldn't help but feel like I was at home. They were all here for one reason, and one reason only: to fight for the right to love and be loved.
We stood out in the cold with the counter protestors for the full thirty minutes, and although I was freezing my fingers and toes off, it was worth it. The street was nearly car-free at first, but as the morning progressed, it became more congested with cars of every shape, color, and size. Some drivers slowed down to read our signs, some of them took pictures of us while they were temporarily stopped, and some of them even had their iPhones out recording the long line of counter protestors. We patiently waited for Westboro to show, but by 7:25, we realized that they were not going to come. With a sense of pride, we all began to head back to our cars. We had accomplished our mission: to show everyone that we had tons more supporters of our gay community than we did non-supporters, and I feel like we really showed everyone that times are changing, whether they like it or not.
When I got home, I realized that I was a stranger on at least seven different iPhones, and in at least ten (if not more) different pictures. But I didn't mind it much, because I could only imagine how many witnesses uploaded those photos and videos to show people exactly how many supporters of LGBT there are in my town. As long as I'm making a difference or impact on someone, then I'm doing my job as a human being. And that's enough for me. I also thought about the fact that there were no rivalries that morning when it came to the different high schools fighting for these students. Whether we were located North, West, South, or East, we all came together as one student body and as one family, and I feel like I can really count on my community to make a stand during the times when we need each other the most. We could have all stood in different groups and called ourselves east, west, south, and north. But we didn't. We melded as one school district and as one community, and we held together like glue. Even if the four protestors from Westboro would have shown, they would have been outnumbered and outspoken, because we were louder, prouder, and stronger as a team than they would have ever been.
I did hear that Westboro completely skipped over our particular school because they didn't "have everything sorted out with the police in time" to protest, which, I must say is utter bullshit. My guess is that they saw the large quantity of people lining the sidewalk and kept on driving to their next destination. Of course, the high school that they were supposed to stop at after that was supposed to have a lot more counter protestors than we did, so it would have been smarter to protest at the school we were at since we would have had the least amount of people (which I think exceeded a little more than 300 total). But hey, they had to stop somewhere, right? Otherwise they would have never been able to live it down for not showing up at all. I am extremely proud of the counter protestors at the other school Westboro did show up to, because I know you all really held your ground. I'm glad that I have a community I can be proud to live in and a community that I know will back anyone up who is being bullied. It's nice to see change finally taking place.
This video shows the remaining line of people when my mom and I were leaving the counter protest.
After the protest ended, I ate breakfast and headed up to school. I was already in high spirits when I got there, and my day continued to blossom. When I arrived to my speech class, instead of using power point to go over notes, my teacher popped in the pilot of the television show, "Lie to Me" to teach us about communication. Readers, that show was like my form of crack. I sat there absolutely mesmerized and sucked into the whole idea of reading body language, and it was like watching my life on a screen. Well, okay, the situations that the characters are put into, not so much. But the whole concept of the show reflected how I have come to recognize whether people are lying to me or not. Like the main character, I have learned to observe the habits, expressions, and different pitches of voice that other people display in order to familiarize myself with their "truths" and "lies". Although it isn't to the extremity that he has studied it, it is the same concept, nonetheless. I definitely want to watch all of the episodes now, from start to finish.
I headed to American Lit class after that, and all we did was talk more about Emily Dickinson's poetry. Our teacher likes to pace back and forth when he lectures, so my eyes were following him like a Kit Cat clock, and then my mind started to yet again remind me of how much he looked like a lion. I'm serious about this. His hair is like a flaming blond type hair, which looks like the color of a lion's mane, and it's combed back and has this wavy look to it. To top it off, he has one of those mustache-beard pieces going on. ...Maybe it's best just to show you.
Yes. I drew this. Haha. Unbeknownst to him, of course (: See, I have this weird thing going on where if I find someone who looks interesting to me, I just get this sudden urge to draw him or her. And how do I explain to people that my teacher looks like a lion without providing some sort of picture? Anyway, that's him. And whenever he walks into the classroom, that is the first word that pops into my head. Lion. It's sort of hard to ignore, that comparison. He handed back some papers during that class period, and I was surprised to see that he had given me good grades on my writing. Why was I surprised? Lets just say he can be very vague sometimes when it comes to asking you to write an essay for him. He doesn't always fill you in on what he's looking for, so when I go to write for him, I pretty much jump into it blindly and hope to God that I'm heading toward the light. I was pleased to see that I was doing something right, and I once again left class with this happy, fluffy cloud above my head.
By the time stagecraft rolled around, I was ready to do whatever it was that Lonna needed me to do. So I walked in not knowing that I would be painting, which just added to the sunshine of my day. One of my classmates wanted to paint up until Lonna told her that she would be on paint duty until the job was done. For some reason, the idea of painting every day until the wet blend, spattering, and the painting on of bricks was done scared her, and she quickly looked at me and asked me if I liked painting. It took all I had to avoid saying, "I love painting! I'm an artist!" Instead, I casually replied with, "Yeah. I like painting." She then asked me if I wanted to do it. I said that I didn't really care, and thus, the brush was placed into my creative hands. Finally! my mind thought. Something in my area of expertise! Don't get me wrong. I loved walking walls down and putting pieces together. I loved messing with the screw gun and staple gun when Lonna told me to give them both a shot. But the brush was the first familiar thing that had been placed in my hands since the beginning of that semester, and I was finally back in my comfort zone.
Lonna then told us that we would be doing wet blends, where we would each take a different shade of brown, darkest to lightest, and just kind of swirl it around on the wood in swift motions. It was important that we made sure not to blend each others' shades into each other, because the point was to see all the different shades of brown swirls on the pieces. We also had to avoid painting over each others' shades. I was the leader because I had the darkest brown, and pretty soon we were all forming a line and painting as a group. There were a couple brush smack-downs (I thought of sumo-wrestlers after hearing the sounds the collisions made), and we would laugh and continue working. By the time we were done, we stood back to admire our work and then left class. Our job was done for the day.
I had a bad day the next day. We all know what that's like, where the day before was so fantastic that the following day just has to dump a load of crap onto your plans. I woke up around nine because I can usually sleep in longer on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and my phone had made a distinct buzzing sound against the coffee table that had triggered the "wake up" mode of my brain. Still groggy, I opened up the text message I had received and saw that my mom had asked me how to grade a 40 point worksheet. It took me a minute before it all clicked, and suddenly the panic set in. I frantically asked her if she was subbing up at high school, and she said yes. Poor communication from the day before had made me believe that she was supposed to sub on Wednesday, not Tuesday. I found myself without a ride, and I began to panic. What am I going to do? I thought. To say the least, I was pissed and upset. I logged onto Facebook to see if anyone would offer taking me up to school, but no one could, which I had expected. I was beginning to work myself up over the fact that I would miss my two classes, and then finally my brain reminded me, It could be worse. You could be dead. Let me tell you, it's amazing how comparing death to missing one day of school can brighten up someone's day. And I mean that with the deepest sincerity. I suddenly realized that being angry over missing school wasn't going to solve the problem of not having a ride, so instead, I accepted the fact that class just might have to be missed. Not much else to do, right? Luckily, my friend Taelor got out of class in time to come pick me up and take me up there (for which I am forever grateful for). There wasn't much I would have missed if I had not shown, but that's okay. I'm just glad I could be up there. We went over notes in English and critiqued poems in creative writing, and then I was done for the day. I must say that we have some great poets in my class. I enjoy reading their material!
My mom and I got into a fight about me getting a job and my license after school, to which I'd rather not go into details on since it's over and done with, but let's just say I wasn't too keen on spending much time with her when I got home. So I walked inside, came straight downstairs, and did not emerge from the realm that is my basement until around eight p.m. I ended up typing out a story to submit to one of the Chicken Soup books (which I did end up submitting, in case you're wondering), and after I did that, I felt better. It was almost as though I gave myself my own therapy, and by that night, I was feeling tons better.
Today was one of those days that was just genuinely great for me. I woke up in a good mood and had even gotten a chance to sleep in longer than usual. I just felt like I had less to do this morning as far as preparation for school goes, and by the time Taelor came to pick me up, I was packed and ready to go. Once we got to school, I headed to my speech class only to find out that it was cancelled. Yes! I thought. Now I can read the two stories that I didn't feel like reading last night! You see, lion teacher assigned us two stories out of our book, and since I haven't favored many of the selections so far, I just didn't have the desire to read anything. But I had an hour and a half of free time, so I headed to the student center and cracked open the book. The two stories were actually enjoyable to read this time. There was great detail and alliteration, and I could picture everything in my head. I was sucked in, and once I finished both stories, I realized just how much I had enjoyed reading them. It definitely made the class more fun to go to, and I was focused and paying more attention to my teacher's lecture than I have been previous classes. After class let out, I hung out in the student center and changed into paint clothes, and before I knew it, I was off to theatre.
Today's class was pretty fun... and abusive. Haha. Lonna showed us how to build a flat, and many of us took turns with the staple gun (me excluded since I hung back behind everyone else, hehe). I was looking forward to painting again, and once the flat was built, Lonna gathered all of us painters up and brought us over to what we had been working on last class. We walked the pieces down and set them side by side so we could spatter paint, and she explained that the paint for the spattering would be thinner than what we had been working with before. The paint was all watery and thin, and she showed us how to dip our brushes in and how to get all of the excess paint out of the bristles before spattering. Otherwise the paint would go flying in huge blotches, which was the opposite of what we wanted! Once she got the extra paint out, she curled her left hand into a fist and began tapping the metal part of the brush against the curled sides of her index finger and thumb. The paint spattered in tiny dots onto the pieces we had painted, and she told us that wherever the hollow part of our fist was pointed, that's where the paint would go. We imitated her after her demo and found that hitting the brush against that part of our fists didn't feel so pleasant. We began making references to the mean Catholic school nuns who used to beat students' hands with their rulers, and after the darkest color was done being spattered, we went and rinsed our brushes. Our hands were red where we had hit the brush, but we laughed about it and moved on to the next lightest color (again, dark to light). It was kind of funny listening to all of us spatter the paint because it sounded like a bunch of ticking clocks. We weren't moving as fast as Lonna would have liked us to in fear that we would mess the paint job up, but in the end, it looked really good! The tiny dots were finally becoming noticeable, and when we stood back, it looked even better. One of the painters and I stayed past the class time to help finish up with the last color, and by the time we finished, we looked like beautifully spattered canvases!
I met Jes and Allison in the student center after class to show off my beautifully painted self, and while in the student center, also pulled my tiny sock monkey out of my back pack. He just chills in there every day, and I was talking to Jes and Allison about making him look like a very distinguished and sophisticated monkey. I made him a monocle tonight and also plan on giving him a mustache, making him a top hat, a pipe, and a cute little outfit to pull it all together.
Alright, well that is the extent of my past three days. I apologize for such a long blog, unless you like reading. Then I don't apologize. Haha. So much has happened and I wanted to get it all down, if not for you, then for me to look back on and read. I like to remember fun and memorable times!
I'll keep you guys posted! Thanks for being amazing readers <3
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