I’m really sad today. I’ve received several messages about my post yesterday regarding the suicide of a 14 year old boy in my town. After getting home, I sat down in front of my computer and read the messages and watched tribute videos people had made for him on YouTube. I then scrolled through the Facebook R.I.P. page a friend had made for him. The supportive comments were overwhelming, but isn’t this always the case after someone suicides?
Tonight, while watching the news, I saw a story about a local bakery in Indianapolis, 111 Cakery, who refused to make a wedding cake for a gay couple. “As artists, we have to find inspiration to create something special for our clients,” said the owner. “When asked to do a cake for an occasion or with a theme that’s in opposition with our faith? It’s just hard for us. We struggle with that. There is zero hate here. This causes us to do a lot of soul searching. Why are we doing what we do? We want to show the love of Christ. We want to be right with our God, but we also want to show kindness and respect to other people.”
For as long as I can remember, it has been my dream to be a published author. Writers to me are celebrities and their characters are people who I develop intimate relationships. While others admire athletes and models, to me, I have always looked up to writers. Interestingly, the authors who are my idols are not necessarily what people might guess. I’m obsessed with John Green, Stewart O’Nan, Lynda Barry and Jerry Spinelli, and if I had the chance to meet any of them, would probably instantly fangirl and lose my shit…literally. Authors, their books lined up in bookstores or listed on Amazon and eBooks are legit.