New Year's Resolutions: Bettering My Life, But Can/Will I Do It?

I’ve never been the kind of person to make New Year’s resolutions. I never really saw the point in them, because the majority of them are always broken, many in the very first month of the New Year.

However, these last few months or more have shown me that I could really use some changes in my life to better my quality of life and just have all-around more fun in life. So, I think 2014 is a good year to finally come up with some New Year’s resolutions, many of which I need to work my damndest on trying to follow through with and not break. One resolution really should be to stick with these resolutions, even if it’s hard or not necessarily something I want to do. My lack of will power in the past has been one of my major weaknesses in life. Sticking to these resolutions could be one of the hardest things I attempt to do.

1.       Figure Out My Health Issues

This is something that I actually got a head start on by going to the doctor on Monday. Ever since I ended up in the emergency room in September with severe hypertension I’ve been dealing with terrible headaches on almost a daily basis. I think that these headaches have to do with a myriad of things: stress, lack of sleep (or quality sleep), possibly blood pressure, etc. I wanted to try out a new doctor to see if I could cut down on these issues. I’ve been prescribed with a new blood pressure medication and headache medication to try to cut down on these headaches, which have really made my life at least partially miserable for three full months. Another thing that’s possibly led to my health issues is the fact that I may have sleep apnea. My girlfriend, Aprille, believes that I do because she claims that I gasp for air or even stop breathing occasionally in my sleep. I believe I might, because it seems I’m constantly tired these days (although a lot of that is my fault, as I never seem to be able to go to bed at a time when I should) and I now have major bags under my eyes, which I’d previously never had. I’m getting a sleep apnea test scheduled to see if I have it, so it can be treated. I’m frankly dreading this sleep apnea test, but sometimes you have to do stuff that’s for the best for you, even if you really don’t want too (something I’ve always had a hard time realizing or going through with).

2.       Exercise

Ever since I ended up in the E.R. with that hypertension I’ve been exercising off and on (which I simply never did beforehand). Working out is something that I just do not like doing, so I’m going to need to be hard on myself with this. I have a great opportunity to work out, as my apartment complex has a free and rather extensive workout facility; it’s just forcing me to use it that’s the problem. I need to make sure in 2014 that I work out on average four days a week. It honestly should probably be every day of the week, but I’m being more reasonable here by setting the four day a week goal. I also need to try to push myself a little bit harder in these workouts to really do any good. Sometimes I’ll just go to the gym, walk a mile (which typically takes 20 minutes for me) on a treadmill and go home. This is surely better than nothing, but ultimately isn’t helping out all that much. I probably should have a weight loss goal in mind, but I really don’t. Maybe it’s not best to focus on how much to lose anyway and just try to do the best I can.

3.       Sodas

Also, since I visited the E.R. I’ve tried to completely cut sodas, my greatest addiction in life, out of my life. I haven’t been 100 percent successful, although for a few weeks there I was, but I’ve definitely cut the number of sodas and the type of sodas (switching to Coke Zero or Diet Coke over regular Coke). I need to do a better job, though, at completely cutting sodas out of my life altogether, but it’s incredibly hard for me to completely eliminate something I’m so addicted too. It especially doesn’t help when I work less than 10 feet from a soda fountain five days a week. If only water tasted good.  

4.       Diet

My diet is also one of the things in my life that has improved some since my E.R. visit, but like exercise and sodas is not something that I’ve gone far enough in improving to do a whole lot of help. I’ve started to eat more healthy foods, but I occasionally will still over do it. I especially need to cut out the binge eating that I frequently do late at night when I’m bored.

5.       Better Use of My Off-Days/Time Management

A good way to not get burnt out at work or feel that my time is not being used well (which seems to be a constant thought of mine) would be to better spend my off days. I find that many times on my days off of work I feel that I’ve simply wasted the day away or even that I might as well should have worked.  These off days would be better spent by doing a number of things such as catching up on my writing/website work more often or simply by doing more relaxing things like catching up on DVR’d television shows or watching movies. Or maybe by going out and doing fun things with my girlfriend or friends. This is truthfully one of my least worries of all the things going on in my life, but sometimes the small things tend to build up. I find that I spend a lot of my off days wasting time on the internet or social media sites. I believe that simply doing other things like watching movies or writing would make me feel better than listlessly staring at a screen.

6.       Relax

This kind of goes along somewhat with the previous resolution … I need to relax a lot more in life. There are many ways I need to do this. I need to do it by not wasting so much time in my life and I need to do it by not making such a big deal out of certain things (this will be incredibly hard for me). My stress level would probably be reduced quite a bit simply by not reacting so harshly or negatively to certain things that the average person would likely just blow off. (Again, this won’t be easy for me.)

7.       Watch More Movies

This probably goes along with ‘relax’. I’m a huge movie buff, but honestly I don’t watch that many movies. In fact, I might be the biggest movie buff in the country who actually watches the fewest movies. Just laying down on the couch or bed and enjoying a film for 90 minutes to two hours would probably be a really good way to focus on number six.

8.       Writing

This is one that honestly likely contradicts some of these other resolutions like relax. One of my biggest stressors in life is the fact that I don’t feel like I write or work on my entertaining website nearly enough, despite the fact that I spend quite a bit of time on it. I need to find more time to write more, especially write fiction (which I’ve sorely been lacking since I graduated from college). Setting aside time during the day or throughout the week might be beneficial as far as this goes. I’d say going as far as designating certain days to write non-fiction (website, blog, etc) and fiction (short story, etc.) would be a good way to go about this, but honestly my entertainment website is something that’s supposed to be a 24/7, 365 day a year type site. This will be hard to accomplish given all of my time constraints, but I know writing more would make me feel more productive.

I'll Love Who I Want to Love (And Phil Robertson Can Suck My Duck)

Controversy erupted on Wednesday, December 18 when news of a GQ magazine interview with “Duck Dynasty” star and family patriarch Phil Robertson was revealed to include homophobic sentiments.

In the interview Robertson was quoted as saying: “It seems like, to me, a vagina -- as a man -- would be more desirable than a man’s anus. That’s just me. I’m just thinking: There’s more there! She’s got more to offer. I mean, come on, dudes! You know what I’m saying? But hey, sin: It’s not logical, my man. It’s just not logical.” He then added: “Everything is blurred on what’s right and what’s wrong. Sin becomes fine. Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men. Don’t be deceived. Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers -- they won’t inherit the kingdom of God. Don’t deceive yourself. It’s not right.”

Robertson’s comments earned him an indefinite suspension from filming of A&E’s widely popular reality series “Duck Dynasty,” which added to the controversy with many believing that Robertson shouldn’t be punished for his beliefs or opinions.

Personally, I was incredibly offended by Robertson’s comments and views. The fact that he doesn’t believe in homosexuality is his opinion, but his obvious hatred toward homosexuals and nonsensical belief that it would lead to things like bestiality is incredibly offensive.

My outrage at Robertson’s comments has led me to make this admission … I’m in love with a duck.

Yes, you read that correctly. I fell in love with the very creature that Phil Robertson has made a life and career out of brutally murdering. Not only that, but the duck that I have chosen to love is male.  I wonder how Phil would feel about that?

My honest answer is that I truly don’t give a damn what Phil Robertson thinks about me. Love is love and whether I choose to love a woman, man or duck it’s nobody’s business but my own.

I fell for Reginald, my duckfriend, when I was over at a friend’s house back in the spring. I would like to say that it was love at first sight between me and Reggie, but the truth is he played hard to get. I had to chase him across the yard for about an hour before he finally gave into my lusts. We’ve been inseparable ever since. I quickly found out I’d never really known what love was all about until I nestled my head amongst Reggie’s feathers. Love really is all it’s quacked up to be.   

It’s incredibly disheartening to hear Robertson and others claim that homosexuality leads to things like bestiality, because I was a beastie long before I was gay. In fact, it took Reggie’s smooth feathers, webbed feet and long beak (you wouldn’t believe the things he can do with that thing) before I ever realized I might be into the opposite sex. But, when I looked at Reggie and he quacked at me I just knew there was something between us. Something that Phil Robertson would never, could never understand … that sometimes you’ve never truly loved until you’ve fu … uh, loved a duck.

So Where Were the Spiders

This is a true story. I think. I really can’t be one-hundred percent sure because I didn’t get much sleep last night. I may have been dreaming.

At work today I checked out the love child of Ziggy Stardust and Dr. Frank-N-Furter (Tim Curry’s character) from Rocky Horror Picture Show. You should’ve seen this guy, boy, was he something. In five and a half years as a cashier, and 26 years of living in general, I had never seen something like this in person.

Work was slow so to pass some time I figured I’d go back to the kitchen to shoot the breeze with a co-worker. With my eyes toward the floor I passed somebody going the opposite direction. Something caught me as unusual about this random figure I’d walked by and I turned to look at him. I’m so glad something told me I should turn around.

Not much about people surprises me so I won’t say that I was startled by what I saw, but more so bemused or even amused. There was this tall, slender man of maybe my age or younger with a sort of neon blonde mohawk and bright green and white and yellowish makeup covering almost the entirety of his face, like he was one of those rabid sports fans, in a Cirque Du Soleil troupe, or a member of an effeminate Native American tribal war party.

He had stunning eyes – eyes my co-worker called beautiful – but they weren’t his own, opting to choose turquoise contacts over whatever color his naturally were. He clearly had a theme of light pastoral greens going on and I wondered if that was consistent or changed from day-to-day – maybe with his moods – maybe those colors are just who he identifies himself as.

His face was covered with piercings – rings and studs everywhere – too many to count in such a short time and I didn’t feel like staring at him anyway. He already had enough eyes upon him. His face had looked like it had gone off to war and came back home with tiny shrapnel scattered throughout.

He wore these tall black boots like the kind you see someone like Rob Halford of Judas Priest wear – I’m sure they have a specific name, but I don’t have the slightest clue what it is. They were stylish, but also screamed ‘don’t fuck with me.’

He also wore a spiked black dog collar around his neck – but can you truly call it a dog collar when it’s clearly manufactured for someone of his type? This collar was the only part of the entire ensemble that I thought was a little cliché, like he had this image of what it constituted to be a punk and felt it was a necessary fashion statement.

While I found the dog collar the least interesting aspect of his look – I bet many would find it quite possibly the weirdest aspect of the outfit – I found the fact that he was wearing a black corset, much like Tim Curry in the ‘70s cult classic, the most interesting aspect. I’ve never seen a man – have I ever seen anybody? – in a corset in real life. It looks quite painful.  

He certainly was a sight to see and one you’d truly have to see to believe. He might not have been all that atypical in the New Yorks, San Franciscos, Seattles and Portlands of this country, but for central Arkansas – or Arkansas in general – he certainly stood out. There was no way he would go unnoticed – was that what he was looking for?

After my eyes and brain had completely taken him in I turned to one of my co-workers who looked up at me and simultaneously we began to speak. I didn’t hear what she said. I said, “What the fuck was that?” to her. The guy bought an item or two and checked out with the other cashier on duty. After he departed I went over to see what she had to say. That’s when she told me that she had told him he had beautiful eyes only to find out that they weren’t his own. She said it was something she needed to say to keep herself from laughing at him. I’m not sure if he noticed – or if he cares any or anymore – but many of the customers who weren’t in complete shock over what they had seen weren’t able to hold their laughter as well. An older gentleman turned to his cute 18-21 year old granddaughter and said to her, “you better not ever bring a boy like that home.” She told her grandfather that he needn’t have to worry, but neither did she. She wore a nice little sun dress and wore cowboy boots – the combo of which showed off her nice legs, but she didn’t seem like something an aspiring Spider from Mars would be interested in.

The whole incident didn’t last long – by the time he had entered the cafeteria to the time he had left was less than a minute – but it left the whole room dumbfounded, entertained, confused and talking. I didn’t know if we’d be seeing him again … but I kind of hoped we would.

Thirty minutes or so later he made a return appearance. This time there was a little bit of a crowd gathered around the cash registers – he chose my line. I asked him how he was doing. He didn’t answer. He pulled a little cash out of his corset and handed it to me. I handed him back his change. I said ‘have a good day.’ Again, he didn’t say anything. He probably thought he was being judged by everybody in the entire building – he was probably right about most of them. They probably thought he was weird. I just thought he was mostly interesting. I desperately wanted to hear him speak though. I wanted to know what his voice sounded like – I guess that’s a mystery that must remain unsolved. He left again. Again the room erupted in conversation about this unique freak.

He would only come back into the cafeteria once more the entire day to get something out of the vending machines. I didn’t have any more contact with him. But, I think he’d quickly become one of my all-time favorite customers.

Work can become tedious, on the weekends it is particularly slow and monotonous. You see mostly the same people, serve mostly the same food, and hit mostly the same few buttons on the cash register. So, something new, something abnormal, something downright strange can become entertaining, enjoyable, interesting.

This guy was something special in a routine of bland. He wasn’t a replicant like all the rest. He was original – maybe not everywhere – but here on a slow Sunday afternoon he sure was. The sight of little old ladies enjoying their post-church Sunday lunch mouths agape, some slightly frightened was priceless.

You have to be completely comfortable with yourself and have a right amount of “I don’t give a shit” rebellion to pull something like this off any and every day of the year that isn’t Halloween. You’ve got to be tough to withstand all the lurking and judging eyes, all the snickering and gossiping, the potential dangers involved if somebody has a serious problem with the way you look. I don’t know this man. I highly doubt that I’d ever want to know this man. He very likely may be into some weird ass shit. But, I kind of had to admire the strength to make this choice, to go through with this look, this attitude, this identity in a location and culture that doesn’t know exactly what to think about it all, but what they think about it ain’t good.

It reminded me of a Jimmy Buffett deep cut Truckstop Salvation that nobody has ever heard of. It was modern day long-haired, pot smoking hippies meets Southern Baptist, stuck-in-their-way of life simpletons. Nobody had known what truly hit them.

Yeah, I wish you had seen it.

It was beautiful.      

Cat-Sitting Has Brought Out My Inner Scaredy Cat

As I sit here tonight writing I have a buddy by my side.  She’s a five-year old gold and white cat named Golden – I would prefer to call her Rosalita, but my girlfriend Aprille is convinced she knows her name. Aprille and I have been cat-sitting lately, although it’s really more of a trial run at owning a cat than it is cat-sitting. The owner of this cat may no longer be able to completely and adequately take care of her and as a result we wanted to familiarize ourselves with living with a cat before possibly taking in the cat.

As I sit here on my couch tonight Golden is fast asleep beside me – waking up every so often to stretch and cock her head upward toward me as if to say, “You’re still hear, buddy? Alright, I’m going back to sleep now.”

Golden is an absolutely beautiful animal and incredibly sweet. She loves being pet and after being here for over 72 hours she still has failed to be an annoyance, which I would think would be a must for a pet owned by me. She seems a little more scared by things than most cats I’ve been around previously – she doesn’t like loud noises or sudden movements and when scared she’ll run into our apartment’s guest room and sometimes remain there for hours at a time. I wonder if she might not have been abused before she was adopted by her current owner at PetsMart.

In the over 72 hours Golden has been living with me and Aprille I don’t think I’ve felt anything but endearment toward her – well, she sheds like a mother, but that’s about it. However, on Saturday evening while accompanying Aprille at PetsMart to pick up some things for the cat I became scared. Aprille bought three items – two related to Golden’s litter box and one bottle of the cheapest shampoo the store had to hopefully cut down on her shedding. The cost of these three items tallied to $20. That might not be that bad, but it frightened me. It made me think of all the responsibilities that being a cat owner might entail.

How much money would the cat most? Will she constantly leave fur everywhere around the apartment? Will she smell too badly? Will she force me to do daily chores I might not want to do? Will she get rambunctious and annoy me? Will she tear up my stuff? Will she tear up the apartment? Will she attack our pet rabbit, Harvey? All of these fears came to me and I had sort of a breakdown moment with Aprille exclaiming that under no circumstances will we be able to keep this cat.

I don’t think it was just the cat that made me briefly panic. It was a big change in life, which I can often be indecisive about. It lead to thoughts like, “if I can’t care for a cat could I ever care for a child?” I don’t know the answer and don’t want to find out the answer. It’s a step in my life I’m not nearly ready for. It’s a step in Aprille’s life I think she wishes would hurry up and arrive. Why aren’t we married? Why don’t we have kids? I don’t think I can even care for a cat. Long term commitment scares me to death. A cat might not be a kid, but it’s a long-term commitment just the same.  Also, I’ve always thought I’d like to own a cat. I’ve never put a whole lot of thought into whether or not I wanted a kid. I’m probably over-thinking this, but I’m thinking it all the same.

The cat is going back home as soon as possible. I can’t do this.

Later that night I was watching a movie and the cat jumped up on the couch to cuddle with me. All of a sudden the cat was my buddy again. I wanted to keep her. Thought I could handle her and do right by her. Thought it might not be so bad. Then came time for bed and we put Golden in the office for the night. The fear of Golden tearing my stuff up became great again and I had to have all of my books and important stuff in the office put away, even though it had been out with her for two whole nights and had gone untouched. I couldn’t trust the cat. The cat has got to go.

All today I’ve gone back-and-forth in my mind. I’d love to have this cat. No, there’s no way in Hell we can keep this cat. When she’s laying beside me like right now there’s nothing I’d like more than to keep her – she could be a lot of fun, a loving friend, something to make me smile on a hard day. She hasn’t done a single thing to annoy me or irritate me, but there’s still that fear in my head that she might, that she will.

At this point I have no clue what we are going to do with Golden. She may go home soon. She may never go home again.  I may never make up my mind. Owning a pet is a big deal and I guess these are thoughts that people should have in their mind before making such a big decision. Should it scare them this much, though?

Golden is a truly lovely cat and this has almost nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. She could be a great addition to our life, but I’m just not sure if I’m ready yet.

10 Two-Sentence Horror Stories for Your Reading Pleasure ...

My friend Luke told me about this Reddit thread today at work about two sentence horror stories where people were trying to come up with good or interesting horror stories in only two sentences. He read some of them to me and I thought they were pretty good. Intrigued and bored at work I figured I’d try my hand at some two sentence horror stories … so basically Luke made the huge mistake of telling me about that thread. You can blame him for what follows below …  

I

When I awoke the doctor said, “I’m sorry Jon, but you are now a vegetable.” When the nurse held up a mirror so I could see, to my bemused horror there was a cucumber staring back at me.

II

It was a fun evening of telling ghost stories around the campfire. That is, until all of a sudden, we realized none of us had made the fire.

III

I couldn’t stand to see her writhing there in that much agony and pain. So, I put on a blindfold.

IV

I was running behind to catch the train. I just missed it, but it didn’t miss me.

V

My tire got a flat. I was stranded in Mississippi.

VI

I remember seeing my mom and dad making love when I was eight years old. But, why did I rewind the tape and watch it again?

VII

I’ll never forget Merv’s last words on Earth. “Damn, Jim, I didn’t know you were a werewolf.”

VIII

“I just don’t get why this is so scary?” One centipede said to the other centipede while watching “Human Centipede.”

IX

She had legs that went on for days and an ass I thought I’d really like to get to know. Then she turned around.

X

As I was being beamed aboard the ship I only had one thought in my mind. I’m about to be anally probed, but I left my cherry scented lube behind.

The Royals Had a Baby! How Disney Is At Least Partially to Blame for America's British Royals Fascination ...

The Royals had a baby! The Royals had a baby! I can’t contain my excitement. The Royals had a baby!

That was roughly the sentiment of many today (mostly women) when they heard the news, and for some reason it’s all American cable news felt like covering today (July 22), that Kate Middleton, ahem excuse me, Catherine Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge gave birth to an, as of yet unnamed, eight pound, six ounce baby boy.

It’s always been a mystery to me why American media and American citizens (again mostly the women folk) give a damn about the British Royal family. Many of these people care more about what’s going on with the British Royal family than they do with the family of the President of the United States. I guarantee these people will know the name of Prince William and Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge’s son, whenever it’s announced. However, most of those same people probably couldn’t tell you the names of President Barack Obama’s two daughters … their names are Sasha and Malia, by the way.

The coverage of Prince William and Kate Middleton’s relationship, then wedding, then married life, then pregnancy and now birth of their baby has been somewhat infuriating to me; mostly because it’s not news and partially because the American infatuation with them makes absolutely little-to-no-sense. That is at least to me.

However, I think I have a sound theory as to why there is such an infatuation. It’s a theory that frankly runs the risk of sounding sexist, but I’m willing to sound slightly sexist for the sake of this piece. The hubbub surrounding the British Royals, any new relationship and wedding among them and the birth of the Royal Baby and the reason why all of this seems to be a fad among only women is more than likely to do with fairytales and Disney princesses.

What do many little girls want to be when they grow up?

They want to be Cinderella or Belle or Ariel or Snow White.

Naturally they grow up and these dreams they had as young girls are unattainable. But, there are a very select few in this world who do have the opportunity and honor to become princesses, like Kate Middleton did.

And, because these little girls who grow up to be women wanted everything that Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge has they become interested – oftentimes a little too much so – with her story, her life, her marriage, the birth of her baby and even (in the case of Princess Diana) her death. These women who pay so much attention to everything Princess Kate are doing so in a mixture of admiration and jealousy, because it’s the closest thing to being Cinderella that they have and ever will. It’s really not much different than the little boys who want to grow up to be Peyton Manning, LeBron James or in my case Chipper Jones and end up with a sometimes unhealthy admiration of athletes. Or the way that other little boys worship Spider-Man, Batman and Superman when they’re young and grow up to be men who can’t part with their superhero fantasies.

Does this make it wrong or right to be this excited over a couple having a baby all the way across the Atlantic Ocean? I really don’t know, that’s for each individual to decide for themselves, I suppose.  

As for the media’s incessant coverage of the Royal Baby, it’s really no surprise. Media is going to do – wrong or right – whatever brings home the highest television ratings, sells the most magazine issues or garners the most website hits. As a journalism nerd this is the part of it all that steams me the most, because I know media outlets are ignoring much more important news stories than whether or not it’s a boy or a girl, but I also know media is a business and this will occasionally lead to them whoring themselves out for stories that they know will have people paying attention. And, what’s going to get thousands of housewives and stay-at-home-mom’s attention on a Monday afternoon than coverage of Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge bringing a future prince into this world? Absolutely nothing. Because that’s the life they dreamed of when they were little girls and it’s the life they still long for now after finding out that real life is far from a Disney fairytale.     

Why I Wore My Hoodie Today ...

The high today in Central Arkansas was 89 degrees, but I wore my large, black hoodie to work anyway. I must’ve been asked 10 or more times, “Are you cold?” – but “nope” was all I had to say. I didn’t wear the hoodie as a fashion statement. No, I wore it more as a social (or political if you prefer) statement. I wore it because of Trayvon Martin’s wrongful death not resulting in justice. And, I wore it in protest of George Zimmerman’s acquittal for walking free in his blatant role in Martin’s wrongful death.

I’m not sure anybody got the protest; I only explained it to a couple of people who I knew would truly understand. The biggest reason for not owning up to the silent, peaceful protest was that I didn’t believe babbling about it was appropriate to the cause, after all, I wasn’t doing this for my own good – I was doing it to prove a point, even if some (maybe most) people didn’t “get it.” But, because of that – because it might not have had the impact I hoped it might - here’s this blog post.  

We are not allowed to wear hoodies at my workplace, because apparently they are considered “unprofessional” even though it’s merely just a jacket meant to keep one warm. We are allowed to wear jackets of other types, but not hoodies. Other jackets are apparently professional, but hoodies are not. What they mean to say by this rule is that they think hoodies are thuggish. To them wearing a hoodie carries a negative connotation. They are profiling based on clothing. Hell, hoodies are just plain comfortable. That’s why I wear them. I’m not sure if this was a new rule or one that I just was never made aware of until later this winter, but I always wore my hoodie to and at work without being bothered about it. The day my boss told me I could no longer wear my hoodie at work was one of the few times I’ve ever let my irritation show through at work. The irritation wasn’t toward my boss – he was doing what his boss told him to do – my irritation was because I knew why this rule was instituted. It was instituted for the same reason Trayvon Martin was stalked by George Zimmerman, which later resulted in his tragic death. It was instituted because of its negative connotation or the stereotype it has.

I, of course, didn’t know Trayvon Martin as almost none of us who’ve been caught up in the George Zimmerman trial did, so I can’t say whether or not Martin considered himself to be a “thug.” I won’t subject a guess as to whether or not he was. Zimmerman supporters who say he was a “thug” don’t really know either; they’re just saying it based on those stereotypes and their own racial insecurities and bigotries. But, here’s the thing that so many people fail to realize, mostly because of their ignorance, whether or not Trayvon Martin was a “thug” should not have had anything to do with what Zimmerman did or the outcome of his trial. Martin’s “thugness” or “non-thugness” was irrelevant.

He may have worn his hoodie that night because of fashion purposes. Or maybe he wore his hoodie that night for the same reason I wear my hoodie, because he was simply cold. His hoodie was a key part in why Zimmerman followed him. As a result his hoodie played a large part in his death. But, Martin shouldn’t have been profiled for his hoodie, for the same reason that nobody should ever think certain things of me for wearing mine. It’s just a piece of clothing for God’s sake.

I feel that Martin was killed in at least partial malice and that Zimmerman should’ve been held accountable for his death. I feel that a great injustice was done in Zimmerman being set free. For that reason I chose to wear my hoodie to work today, despite it being summer, despite it being hot. Even though I work inside, it was still an uncomfortable protest, but I felt it was an appropriate and important protest. If people didn’t get it or if they still don’t get it after reading this so be it, I felt it was the right thing to do for Trayvon Martin and a great injustice.