How do you cope with a breast cancer diagnosis while fresh into your exploration of solo polyamory? How do you ask for and accept help as needed, keep yourself and your partners happy (Hint: boundary work!), and cope with a changing body that you were struggling to love in the first place?
First, BUY MY BOOK. Er, Story. Y’all don’t know how long I’ve been dying to be the one to say that. If I had a dollar, for all the Tweets and blog posts and FB ads I’ve read… But let’s turn the page on that, shall we? My short story, The Dog Days of Summer, will be…
I didn’t meet any angry people. I met people who expressed hurt, frustration, fear for their children, and despair, and yet, were still hopeful. Hopeful that although it seems the justice system had yet again failed, if we gathered together like this, our voices would be heard. That the killing of Trayvon Martin would not be allowed to be just another dead young black swept under the mat and forgotten.
When I listen to that final 911 tape, I hear a teen voice screaming for help. If, according to Zimmerman on his reenactment, he believed Trayvon was alive and still dangerous, why would the screaming stop exactly when the gun is fired? Why wouldn’t Zimmerman, if he had been the one screaming for help, keep screaming?
Because it was Trayvon.