Today has been the best day since I was treated with steroids last week for my MS flair. I decided to start the day with some yoga because for whatever reason my hamstrings have been so tight my legs burned when I scooped Jayden’s dog food in the mornings. The yoga felt great and started the day off nice and relaxing. I spent most of the rest of the day reading my book which had just gotten so good it refused to be ignored.
Now I’m writing today’s post, dreading what will happen in Ferguson tonight and in the days to follow. As if local sounds want to give me a taste of what it will be like there tonight, the police helicopter has been flying overhead and I hear sirens in the distance.
B has a news channel on in the living room and I hear snippets of the reporters talking over the classical music I’ve had playing in my den all day.
I just heard a reporter say we’re getting so close. I’m terrified for that city. Now they’re talking about schools and businesses being closed and a female reporter is saying it’s recklace to wait until after dark to announce the decision since it’s harder to crowd control after dark.
Does anyone really think it will be possible to crowd control in Ferguson tonight? Terrible. This is terrible. The media is sure in its element. This is like a hurricane to the Weather Channel.
My music is crescendoing. I can still hear the TV. The crowd is getting larger and larger. There’s a member of the KKK there?
The woman reporting has been reporting there for two months she says. It’s bound to be a larger crowd than normal, she says. No shit, Sherlock.
I’m scared for the people of Ferguson. I’d be one of the few locking myself inside. B has changed the channel to sports.
In news closer to home, we’re under a freeze warning for tomorrow.
My heart just isn’t in to writing this post. Is November over yet?
Should I keep this text document open until the announcement is finally read? B has the TV back on the news. I have Twitter open as usual.He said he doesn’t usually put the news on for stuff like this but he has a feeling this will be history. I’m like, ya think?
It is such a powder keg of racial tension how could it not be history. It already is history. All these shootings are history, joining one another to lead to this moment, this moment of people being fed up, of course it’s history. I can’t hear the TV now. The heater is running, white noise drowning out all sound other than the click of my keys and the violins coming from my speakers.
I’m going to post this now. My elbow is screaming at me, the steroid induced reprieve is fading.