On What Remembrance Means to Me

Today is November 11th. If you're from the United States, that means it's Veteran's Day. If you're British or Canadian (like me) that means today is Remembrance Day.

When I was little, my mother always taught me the importance of wearing a poppy and being silent to honour this important day. If it fell on a weekend, we would go to the cenotaph and see all the veterans and the pipes being played. If it was a weekday, we would have an assembly in school where someone would read 'In Flanders Fields'.

As I grew older, I never lost that feeling of solemness on Remembrance Day. I would wear my poppy, without fail, over my heart until it fell off. But I began to notice that not everyone my age paid the same respect to November 11th as I did.

I've always loved history. I would read books on World Wars 1 and 2 and absorb facts and names and dates and places. I spent hours staring at black-and-white pictures of young men in uniform and wondering to myself who they were, and if they ever came home. To many of the other kids, the 65 thousand Canadians killed in World War 1 were just statistics. They weren't real, they didn't mean anything. To me, they were very real and it made me horribly sad because I felt like I knew them, as much as anyone can 'know' a person (real or fictional) that they've only read about.

When I reached high school, the yearly assembly was just a nuisance to many of the students - they didn't want to sit still in a dark room for an hour and a half. One year I heard a boy tell his friend that he'd taken off his poppy and thrown it out because it 'was annoying' that it kept pricking him. I couldn't believe that someone would be so shallow and disrespectful; that he'd be so irritated by the tiny pinprick that he would disregard that it stood for something much larger and more important than himself, or any of us. I wanted to turn around in the hallway and tell him that pinpricks are nothing compared to bullets or landmines or mustard gas. That hundreds of thousands of people had suffered and died because they loved and believed in their country and in the world - and yet he didn't think remembering them was worth the inconvenience.

Even those who didn't die were changed forever by what they experienced. They may have lost limbs, or their eyesight, or had less visible scars. Seeing their friends get blown up or shot in front of them leaves lasting devastating marks on their mind and their emotions. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) was not really recognized until after World War 1, and as a result, many soldiers who returned home didn't get the help they needed and suffered 'shell shock' for years afterward. They were never quite the same.

World War one began over a hundred years ago. Today, there are no living people who saw combat during this war, and very few who were at home while it was happening. Veterans of the Second World War are dwindling in numbers every year, and during my lifetime, I know they'll all be gone too. So every year we are left with fewer living reminders of why we have this day. And many of the younger generations (such as mine, or my sisters') don't have parents or even grandparents who were around at that time and can remind us of the significance. These wars shaped world history, and many of us seem to have forgotten that.

My mom told me once about one of my grandfather's distant relatives who fought in World War 1, whose wife was supposed to meet him when he was in England on leave. He wound up being delayed and she had to return to Canada before he got there. A few months later, he went missing during the Battle of Vimy Ridge and was presumed to have died without seeing her ever again. Not only is that story sad, but it made me think about all the families and possible lives that never came to be. If he'd survived and returned home, I might have distant cousins on that branch of my family tree. But instead it just ends with his name.

Something else we forget is how the statistics we read about in history books were people, just like us. They had homes, and childhoods, and parents and siblings and many of them had spouses and even children. They had favourite foods and pets and hopes and dreams just like we do. They had names and faces and people who loved them and missed them. They weren't just members of a regiment who fought at a certain battle, they weren't just part of a number. They were human beings. And while some politicians argue that many wars are unnecessary, that's not the point here.

We can't change history. We can't bring these people back. But what we can do, and we absolutely must do, is remember them. Thank them for all they did for the country that we love, and respect their memories. Learn from the mistakes of the past so that history doesn't repeat itself. Because if we don't do that, then everything they did, all that they fought and sacrificed and died for will have been pointless. And that would be the worst tragedy of all.
Lest We Forget.

Newtown: Four months later. Something needs to be done!!

Today, while reading various things on Tumblr like I tend to do, I came across something Wil Wheaton reposted that moved me to tears. And then it made me angry. It was an excerpt from a letter written to the US Congress by a woman whose two children attended Sandy Hook school and, fortunately, survived the shooting. You can read it here: http://newtownaction.org/letter-from-sandy-hook-mom/
She tells how her children, ages six and eight had to face their friends, classmates and teachers being massacred. They were happy little girls whose innocence was ruined by a sick man with a gun. The younger of the two was in one of the classrooms closest to the entrance of the school and heard the shooting and the screaming on the other side of the wall. She now suffers from severe PTSD and has nightmares, is afraid of loud noises, and doesn't want to go outside.
The biggest tragedy to happen since Newtown, however, is the fact that innocent little lives were lost or changed forever, and yet nothing has changed. Why? I don't even know where to begin. 'Red tape', mostly. And I don't want to discredit myself by sounding like a conspiracy nut, but it's true. Obama said from day one that a serious change needed to be made. He wants for there to be a difference, for needless slaughter like this to never ever happen again.
TV and news pundits from Jon Stewart (a man I both enjoy and respect) to Peirs Morgan have said, entirely sombrely, that it's time to do something serious. In fact, they said it after the last massive tragedy - in the movie theater in Aurora, Colorado - after the Virginia Tech massacre in 2007, after Columbine and countless others.
And if you're good with your history, you will know that the Columbine massacre will have its 14th anniversary this month. Since then, there have been more mass murders by firearm than at any other time in US history. And the majority of these have been in supposedly 'safe' public places - theaters, malls, and most tragically, schools. The majority of those killed didn't even know their murderer, they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
3 of the 4 worst school shootings in US history have happened within the last 2 decades (with the exception of the 1966 University of Texas sniper attack by Charles Whitman, who killed 16 people). And there is a reason for this pattern - guns. The accessibility to guns has become much more relaxed in recent years, and the weapons are more powerful than ever before. I'm no expert, but I do know that the shooter at Newtown only had to reload a few times in the process of killing dozens. And I also know that, if his gun had a smaller magazine, he would have had to reload more frequently, and there would have been more time for his potential victims to hide, escape, protect themselves, or even stop him, as some staff so bravely tried to do.
I am well aware that in my last blog about this tragedy, (read it here: http://whatithinkaboutanythingandeverything.blogspot.ca/2012/12/tragedy-dedicated-to-victims-of-newtown.html) I said that guns weren't even the issue, because they don't kill people on their own. I have done some thinking since then, and I was partly wrong. While it is true that many guns are inanimate objects that go through their time without harming anyone, the fact of the matter is that they are so readily available that it's far too easy for someone who is mentally disturbed to get their hands on one - even legally. If they're not outlawed altogether, there definitely needs to be a more selective screening process for selling them, and these laws need to be enforced. The Newtown shooter took his mother's legally-obtained weapons and used them on his spree - after killing her. Why was he so easily able to gain access to such destructive weapons? Why did she even have such a collection of killing tools?
There was an additional something disturbing that I noticed right away from reports of the shooting: the low 'injury' number. The reason for this was that his weapon was so high-powered, and the ammunition so deadly, that it didn't simply wound. That thing was not built to hurt people - it was built to destroy them. And it downright sickens me to know that there were children on the receiving end of that firepower.
Which brings us back around to the topic of politics. The 'red tape' blocking real progress from being made. The political 'right' defends fiercely the rights of their citizens to 'bear arms'. Being sane, and a Canadian, I have never understood the necessity that the American forefathers felt to arm every one of their citizens. There are, of course, those rare cases where people actually use a gun to defend themselves from home invaders, or bears - and I'm sure that if I were in a situation like that, I would wish I had a handgun ready to use. But how many times has this been taken to extremes? Trespassers being shot? Treyvon Martin, for example, being killed for looking 'suspicious'? The numbers boggle the mind - but history has shown that the bad cases outweigh those where the gun was beneficial and didn't cause a needless tragedy.
However, the main point of the original article was not even to ban all guns. Perhaps, somewhere down the road, American Congress will come to their senses and realise that bears attacks are not nearly as common these days, and that security systems have come a long way since the 1700s. But until then, let's focus on the bigger issue at hand - assault weapons. The American founders, when writing the Constitution, had never even dreamed these killing machines were possible. When they spoke about 'bearing arms', they were referring to muskets. Neither of the examples I have used make assault weapons necessary. In no way is an assault weapon the only sufficient method of defence from a home invader. In many cases, a simple baseball bat or pepper spray are all that's needed. In short, a small handgun would more than enough. When hunting, it's the same thing! People have caught their dinner for centuries using a bow and arrow, and a single-barrel shotgun would again, be quite sufficient to kill a deer. (Side note: despite the fact that my grandfather hunts, I personally do not condone the sport). So a semiautomatic weapon isn't needed in this case, either.
So why are they even legal? Who knows. My friend told me a story of driving through Pennsylvania with his family and passing a bank that had a sign in their window advertising that they would give a free AK-47 to anyone who opened an account with them. I don't even know where to begin with this. In fact, it's so ridiculous that I am praying it was a joke. Because banks should know the dangers of giving people weapons - approximately 5,000 of them are robbed every year in the United States. And that's just money being lost. We should be all the more concerned when it comes to the lives of children.
Many who oppose gun control make the point that outlawing something does not solve the problem entirely. Unfortunately, this is true. Heroin is illegal around the globe and yet there are still addicts found worldwide. However, it would certainly go a long way in reducing the access the general public has to these weapons.
In Canada, for example, our government requires permits for almost every gun purchased (with the recent exception of rifles and shotguns - a topic that inspired much concern and debate) and has prohibited new licences issued for assault weapons, therefore prohibiting people from obtaining new weapons. In addition, there is a law stating that when the owner of such a weapon has died, and the weapon was not willed to a direct relative, the gun must be turned over to the authorities to be destroyed. The last massive Canadian school shooting occurred in 1989. 14 people were killed at the Ecole Polytechniqe in Montreal, and following that, the federal government passed the Firearms Act which refined the already-strict gun control laws. Since then, gun control has only been a minor nuisance. England has similar policies in place, and they too, have a lower shooting rate than the United States.
So why won't our neighbours south of the border follow suit? Who knows. I can't even start to explain all the reasons it's easy for someone in the US to carry out such a despicable attack. Jon Stewart has tried to explain all the problems facing those creating tougher laws - and all he's really able to do is laugh. The NRA contradicts themselves, politicians say the government wants to take their guns, and therefore their 'freedom' - and then turn around and blame the government for not doing enough to prevent such a tragedy. But those same people get to hug their children each night, and don't have a panic attack from the sound of a balloon popping. They didn't have to watch their teachers and classmates die, or have to see their loved ones relive that day over and over again.
I don't even want to fathom the possibility of this ever happening again, but it begs the question - how much tragedy will be enough to make a difference? How many more innocent people have to die before they decide to change their ways? I don't want to exaggerate, I am sure many members of the NRA and Congress are perfectly nice, logical people, and not the gun-toting rednecks they are made out to be. But they're incredibly stubborn on something that should be so simple. What will it take for them to get it? Many of them have children - maybe their sympathies will be brought out if someone shows them the autopsy photos. Or pictures from the blood-soaked crime scene. Wil Wheaton, in his post, even suggested that Congress have to face the parents, siblings and friends of those who died that day - to have to look them in the eye and tell them why their son or daughter is not with them anymore. Will that be enough to bring change to the world? Maybe. But there shouldn't have to be such drastic measures taken. There is one simple truth at the root of all of this: The right of one person to have a gun does not, and should never, outweigh the right of 20 children to have a future. 
Let's hope something happens before the rest of the world moves on and forgets - or before something even more unspeakable happens. I know I won't forget. This is something that is going to bother me until the day I die. I know I was not directly affected, but that shouldn't matter. Although I know my own country is considerably safer, I still worry that something like this could happen at my school, at my sisters' school, or at the school where my mom works. Assault rifles have no place in a civilized world. Guns have no place in a civilized world. It shouldn't be this difficult to get rid of them and protect the lives of children.
President Obama was right what he said on the day of the shooting. There is a time to mourn - a time which is still ongoing - and there is a time to act. And the time to act has damn well already passed.

On Sadness

Do you ever just randomly feel sad?
I'm not talking about over something understandable, like over a national tragedy, a sad movie, or someone dying, but just an out-of-nowhere, everything-makes-me-want-to-cry, lowness that sits in the back of your mind and distracts you from everything?
Some people would call this depression. I call this an infrequent, but far-too-common occurrence in my life. And I'm not trying to be melodramatic, or looking for attention, or any of that other crap that is often thrown at everyone in my situation. Honest to god, I am not. If I were, I would have posted something like this ages ago. I only decided to post today because I'm sitting here on a Thursday night when I should be doing Calculus, feeling like I have no motivation, and I think I'm going to go crazy if I don't put this somewhere.
I don't care if nobody reads this. I don't care if everybody reads this. I care that I'm writing it. I'm writing it because this blog is what I turn to when there are no people around, and I don't know what else to do with myself. Right now, I'm tired (both physically and mentally), bored, confused, distracted, and unmotivated to do anything productive. I don't know why. Every now and then these feelings just kind of pop up and drive me nuts.
I don't feel like eating (although possibly that's because I had a HUGE lunch today), I don't feel like going to bed quite yet (because as much as I love it, sleep is boring) and I don't even feel like watching TV. That right there is one of the most telltale signs of when something's not quite right with me. My mom just called me, to 'check in, see how things were going', and even though we were talking about nothing, I felt like crying when we hung up. Why? I have no idea. And it pisses me off that I have no idea, because usually I'm really good at acknowledging that kind of thing!
Overall, I consider myself a really happy person. I can laugh at pretty much anything, I spout random information and pop culture references better than anyone else I know. In fact, I'm pretty sure if there was someone here right now I'd be laughing and talking their ear off about some random topic. Sure, that gets on people's nerves sometimes, but that's who I am - if you're friends with me, you learn to love it. In pictures, I'm always grinning from ear-to-ear (there are a dozen of those examples staring at me from the wall right now), and usually it's a sincere smile, because cameras are taken out when people are happy.
But every now and then, I get in one of those so-called 'funks', and it's just not cool. 90% of the time, it's caused by nothing, and 10% of the time it could be caused by a number of things. I don't know what it is right now - stress over homework I haven't gotten yet, guy drama, lack of sleep or excercise (my mom's favourite cause), homesickness, a letdown from Christmas? Who knows. But it just plan sucks.
Depending on who you ask, anywhere between 15 and 40% of teenagers have depression.
My mom has her degree in psychology, and used to take me to various 'experts' ever since I had problems with bullying in Grade 2. That experience is exhausting. It's not fun telling your life story to strangers who are writing on a clipboard or staring at you with a furrowed brow. It's also not fun having a dozen possible 'diagnoses' thrown your way before you're even in highschool. And it's even less fun when people who know nothing about any of those 'diagnoses' start making stupid and stereotypical jokes while you're sitting there going 'oh great, I might have that...' I know that my mom was just worried about me and cared for me, and wanted to take care of me the best way she knew how. I don't resent her for that. I did at the time, and I will always resent going through that, but it's not her fault. She didn't want me to grow up having problems that no one knew about or could deal with. But it made me feel different, and not in a good way like my brains and sense of humour did.
I'm not going to say that being dragged to those people helped in the long run. Because honestly, I don't know that it did. What I will say, is that it taught me to be more aware of how I was feeling, and pay attention to what caused it so that I could avoid that in the future. It also taught me to be better at acting like I felt OK when I really didn't. Which isn't really a good thing, but there you have it.
I said it before and I'll say it again - I didn't write this for attention. This isn't one of those YouTube videos where people cry to the camera and say that they cut themselves and hate their lives. Those videos are truly heartbreaking, and I know many of them are true, but YouTube is not the place to go with such serious problems. The Internet is full of mean people who will make disgusting jokes about people like that - and continue to do so even after the person has committed suicide because of all the hate directed their way. Just look at Amanda Todd!
I'm not going to say that I've never had horrible thoughts and feelings like that before, because that would be a lie. But the truth is that I have gone through a lot of shit to make it to where I am today, and I will not let that all be for nothing! The past is in the past; and sometimes it's best that the past stay hidden, especially if it will have nothing but a negative impact on the future. If any of my friends are concerned and would like to know about that chapter of my life, they are more than welcome to ask me about it - I promise I will be forthcoming. I just don't think it's something the entire world needs to know.
Tomorrow is another day, hopefully a brighter one. There are a bunch of things going on right now that individually, I can handle, but taken as a group, they seem kind of overwhelming. I know that eventually I will get past everything, and look back on the day I wrote this blog and laugh at all my so-called 'problems'. It's just that sometimes that day in the future seems really far away. And sometimes my mood swings get the better of me, and I spend a good hour or two listlessly surfing the Internet and feeling sorry for myself. But I think this blog has pretty much used up the last 30 minutes of those 2 hours, and now it's time for bed.
I honestly do feel better after spelling everything out like this. If you've read this whole thing, bless your heart.
My name is Emily, and I am a survivor. Of what, you might ask? Of my life. And you are a survivor of yours! So keep your chin up, buttercup!
I would like to leave you with this song. It's one that means a lot to me, I had heard it before, but it came to me at just the right time when I was really in a dark place - and it has never failed to inspire me since.

There is one line in this song that I love above all the others. When I have my own house, I want to frame this quote and put it on the wall:

I'm finally catching onto it, yeah the past is just a conduit.
And the light there at the end is where I'll be.

Thank you for reading.

Lots of love,

~Em