This is going to be a very stream of consciousness post because I feel the need to spread my sadness and anger out into the world, too.

Probably like most people, I could not sleep last night. I couldn't stop thinking about those little kids, teachers, and their family members. Fucking five year olds. Who's heart isn't breaking? What the hell is wrong? I heard a father of students who attend the elementary school on NPR saying he was just having a conversation about a mass shooting with his kids not too long ago. I can't remember if they were speaking about what happened in Oregon at the mall, in Wisconsin at the Sikh Temple, or at the movie theatre in Aurora, since all of these are in too recent memory. His son asked him when it would happen next. He told his kids not to worry, that they were safe; nothing like that would ever happen to them. He pondered on air, "I have to think about what to tell them now."

 Nobody wants to live in fear but these "incidents" are seemingly less and less "isolated." These evil people are mocking us all as they receive their dying wish -- to go down in infamy, one upping the last crazy white man with legally purchased weapons. I see goodness in people, even with all of our flaws, so I have a hard time blaming our culture for such evil crimes, as if we personally cultivated the seeds of hate in these men. But I do believe in enabling. Then again, where there's a will, there's a way...

I have nephews who are four and five. They are the reasons I stay on Facebook -- thousands of miles away, I stalk my sisters' and niece's pages for pictures and stories. Sometimes I print their photos out and hang them on my wall. I know, it's a tad creepy. But kids are so funny and cute and innocent. They make everything more bearable. My sister told this gem the other day: My nephew announces he wants to give Santa a present. "That is such a sweet idea, Papa! Why do you want to do that?" my sister asks him.

 Staring thoughtfully ahead he responds,  "I don't want to be on the Naughty List."

A few weeks ago he played a soccer game where, as my sister tells it, he scored two goals! One of them for his own team. He was equally happy for both. "I did it!" he shouts with glee.

Someone abruptly taking away that warm innocence with such an unspeakable act of hatred as murder is unfathomable. We are all so sad and angry.