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My teenage son is not allowed to walk around our suburban neighborhood. Why? Because I said so. If he wants to go anywhere, I drive him. My husband doesn't object. Why? Because he knows he'll never hear the end of it if he does.

I have a neighbor who I call George Zimmerman (yes, I actually call him this in my house---it's been at least a year now) because he's military, a busybody, aggressive, obnoxious, arrogant, and sees himself as the neighborhood watch guy, to the point where he had the nerve to interrogate my daughter's date as they sat out in the car in front of our house. "Mr. Zimmerman" had liquor on his breath and he kept one hand in his pocket, like he had a gun, at least that's what my daughter thought because the outline looked like one.

Did I mention he's a drinker? Yeah, I did. I know he's a drinker because my son has been over his house visiting his son to play those obnoxious guns and fire games I don't allow. My son said he saw a bunch of beer cans in the trash.  A few months ago, the man had the gall to invite himself in our backyard with a beer bottle in his hand. He brought two friends. They were drinking too. We were putting surveillance cameras in the back and he thought he'd add his two cents. Didn't even ask could he enter, he just walked in like he owned the place.

I. Can't. Stand. Him.

Forgive this stream of consciousness diary, but I'm in shock. Forgive me if none of this makes sense, or if it's not connected well. I honestly don't have that ability tonight. I'm usually much better at these things, but my thoughts are all scattered. It's my mind. It's just not computing well. I've yet to process everything.

But back to the diary ...  In my addled brain, this is connected to the Trayvon Martin verdict. Don't ask me to explain because I can't. It's just a mommy feeling--in my gut. This man creeps me out. So does the real George Zimmerman. I'm still at a loss for words. Bless all of you who've been able to write your feelings out in all those wonderful diaries. I just ... can't.  Not yet. Every thing is still too fuzzy and raw.

Anyway, I took this screenshot the other day for my mom to send her via email. The significance of it didn't hit me until the verdict came last night.

Ignore the Halle Berry pic on the right, please.

I'm too mad/shocked/numb/devastated/horrified to cry.

So where do we possibly go from here?

I haven't the slightest idea.

Originally posted to WFBMM on Sun Jul 14, 2013 at 01:41 AM PDT.

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