Fck H8

Yessir. ><
I saw it, and nearly died laughing.
Had to put it somewhere. (:

The Humble Shoetree

The Humble Shoetree

Behold, the humble shoetree.

I don’t know if this is common knowledge, but learning about some idiot group of hicks who thought it was a brilliant idea to cut down a “hippie tree” after sulking over their event less and miserable lives, perhaps a little after beating a wife or two, really irked me. Sure, the sight of thousands upon thousands of stinking, molding footwear may have irked a few people, but hey. I’m sure there are tons of people who have irked them before the shoetree. Did the hillbillies cut them down? I think not.

What’s that? You have no idea what I’m talking about? It’s no fault of yours, I guess. Allow me to inform you.

Yeah, I know this happened a while ago. In fact, it happened this New Years Eve in Reno, Nevada. Alongside the Loneliest Road in America sat a just as lonely tree. That tree was decorated not in flowers or vines but in Nike's and Converse, Vans and Adidas. Sounds just about as appealing to the eye as grandma’s month-old salmon casserole is to the taste, but still. While I was not amongst the rebels who contributed towards the late landmark, I was one of its many admirers. 

But, what’s so special about a molding hippie tree? Why should we care? People cut down trees every day! I’m all for fighting global warming and saving the polar bears and penguins and things, but hell. It’s a tree. Get over it.

Sigh. Okay. Let me put it this way.

When you were in high school, did you every do anything like a class mural? If not, picture this: A blank wall, white and miserable. Innocent, in someone’s eyes, but lonely in another’s. I did something like this in middle school, where everyone picks and mixes a shade of paint. Back then, I wasn’t really deep enough to really think about the point that my principal was trying to make, so I went along with fighting to call dibs on the spot next to my best friends. And when it came time to actually make my mark I guess I was expecting some kind of rush, maybe a firework, something that would have let me know that what I did was actually worth all the fuss. But when I looked back, all I saw was my massive meat-claw splashed beside that of my friend. I guess I felt some kind of satisfaction in knowing that I did get the spot I wanted, but that was it. Nothing else. 

…Wait, what was my point? Oh, yes! Lets stop talking about me. Onwards!

Anyways, that was about three years ago. By the beginning of my kindajunior year, I had almost completely forgotten about that wall. But when I had to revisit my middle school because my brother enrolled, I decided to visit a few teachers. On my way to visit one of my favorites, I passed by that wall. Given, I had to stop. Remembering the day that my class and I started that mural, instinctively I searched for my hand print.

It wasn’t there.

Instead, there were dozens, In fact, there had to be hundreds. Prints were layered; hands were squeezed into different positions, and some leaked onto the ceiling. I realized then that it wasn’t the hand prints that made the mural special. Seeing that my class and I had started a tradition, that my hand was now connected to hundreds of others, that I had this in common with people I would probably never see, made that mural beautiful.

And the idea that some group of idiots would destroy something like that makes me sick to my stomach.

The Reno shoetree was less of a tourist attraction and more of a symbol. Decades of Americans threw their shoes into that tree, Americans blind to everything besides the molding tennis shoes their precious trainers were to join. For one second, the thought that they may be sharing branch space with a gay man, or a stockbroker, or a republican didn’t matter. And when I look through these articles about those idiot vandals and that stinging, breaking tree, I don’t see an eyesore. I see something that both my great-grandchildren and me could have been a part of.

Well, that’s my first blog entry. Sorry if it’s kinda confusing.

Is this thing on?

My name is Loni, and I'm starting a blog!

As a writer, I'm supposed to be writing at least one thing every single day. Trying to do that on Wattpad is failing miserably, so I'm going to try this whole blog thing. Yes, this is more for personal use than it is...not personal use...so it won't be as orgasmically amazing as most blogs. But if you're reading, kudos! If you're not, then have a nice day. If I can't make it to my computer at least once a day, I'll upload multiple projects when I get to it.

Aaaand, scene.