This part of town isn’t a town.
It’s a moment in time.
When I drive through this part of town, I don’t see the present.
I see an angry, frustrated past. A past that’s too goddamned stubborn to let the present in.
The future doesn’t really exist in this part of town, either. All there is is past.
I drive through and I see Cadillacs with leather seats- Cadillacs that look like they’d be more comfortable floating down the Ohio River than on the streets.
The people driving them, though- they’re the ones who seem like they’re drowning.
Old Italians who clutch their crucifixes with hands still de show the last vestiges of the strength of youth.
For my first love loss.
I found myself dreaming of your death.
Never intentionally of course, always passively. And never, of course, because I wanted to kill you. That wasn’t it.
It came in the lapses in time when there wasn’t one thing in particular that I needed to turn my attention on; the imaginary funerals I held for him inside my head provided a delicate source of unconventional comfort for my unoccupied mind.
It had been two years since you and I fell apart. You’d remember what happened between us, at least I hoped you would. I know I did.
97 years ago,
Woodrow Wilson called for solemn pride
For those who lived,
And who died for our country.
Today is about that pride.
Somewhere, there are veterans
Who nurse drinks and dote upon ghosts
There are men and women
Who have sacrificed over and over and over.
Likewise, there are veterans
Who are raising families, working 8-to-5s,
And flying the American flag from their front porch.
Just like us.
Throughout thick and thin,
They have loved our country,
And it is our prerogative to be gracious.
We, as decided by the people,
Supported by our leaders,
Salute the patriots today.
Since the conception of America,
This has been a nation of immigrants, of natives,
Of sexualities, of religions, of ethnicities,
And of everyone in between.
Our soldier, teachers, and authorities alike
Have worked for a home
That is united against opposition,
Tolerant for all.
To our Veterans,
Because of your service,
I can still go to to school in the morning.
I can spend Sunday at a church and Friday at a mosque.
I can agree, disagree, share my opinion.
I can drive down a highway that the government funded.
I can visit a park that this nation has protected.
I can be right, be wrong, be free.
Thank you for demonstrating compassion under fire.
For the proud and the few that have given us
Peace and justice in the councils of nations,
I extend my greatest respects.
Happy Veterans Day.
Ling is an editor for The Millennial Times.
After Tuesday’s results, it is easy for those of us who feel defeated to begin to feel resentment for our nation and to begin to hate after the outcome of this election. But what’s more difficult? Giving into one’s own malice and resentment or holding one’s head high and feeling pride in the progress it took to reach this point? We mustn’t give into the same anger and hate that fueled the outcome of this election – for there resides no plan of peace and love only of destruction and of hate.
"What just happened?" is a status update I posted on Facebook at 11pm last night, as I was hoping for one last miracle. It’s been less than 24 hours since Donald Trump became president-elect of this nation. I’ve spent the better part of today sitting in my dorm, grieving, crying, and sitting in silence. I’ve talked to administrators, relaying my fear as I step out into the city throughout the next week. I’ve talked to friends, sharing in their disappointment and attempt to comprehend yesterday. I’ve talked to peers and RAs as they send me their love from back home and here at BU. As I’ve scrolled through my social media, reacting with the sad face to status updates and retweeting tweets of desperate hope, I had the chance to read so many different perspectives and reactions to the results of this election. I had the chance to understand my own emotions and delve deeper into the meaning behind this election, and I’ve found that there are many, many things to say.
I put my pants on wrong today because of you.
…Do you have any idea how hard that is to do?
No, legitimately. Do you?
I’m not sure you do.
Pants are the easiest thing to put on. They’re so simple. As long as they don’t cut off the circulation in your legs and make you look like an emo teenager, they’re probably the most elementary item of clothing a person could wear. If you googled “how to put on pants,” the NSA analyst collecting your records would probably double over in raucous laughter.
Honestly, probably the first thing I do in the morning is put on pants. In my Maslow hierarchy of needs, I’ve put pants before both “food” and “dental hygiene.” That says something about a person.