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funkywerks · 5 years

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New York Pity

I'll never forget the day they sent me to New York City. It looked gorgeous from the window of the jet. It was the afternoon of June 15th 2016; the sunset hit the Empire State Building in a perfect orange and golden glow. That day was the start of my biggest accomplishment to date. I went to flight attendant training for 7 weeks in Dallas, Texas. I was hoping to get as far away from the east coast as possible; I was going to be Miley and hop of the plane at LAX with my dream and my cardigan. of course we’re talking about Los Angeles. My instructor was so pleased to announce that I was going to New York City that it made me sick. I was no longer miley ? But I still wanted to party ? I wanted my instructor to think I was happy too- so I faked a little celebration and started brainstorming how I was going to work this into my 5 year plan! I am the queen of the bright side and I can run a beer pong table like a pro. I could fit in anywhere ? Right ?

-I was almost excited.

I had no home, no money, and no clue. I was still excited to start my dream life. Optimism has always been my strong suit and I was going to need every bit of it to survive this experience. My family was very supportive and would help me out sometimes by buying my Uber to work ( a huge luxury in New York . I want you to imagine Uber but expensive and then more expensive than you thought ) or sending me care packages when I was homesick. But I never wanted to take money from them. I took out $1000 loan from the bank before my first paycheck and made it work. I had 1000 dollars in my bank account and was 1000 miles from home. I never in a million years wanted to end up in New York City, but I did.

The Crash Pad

I saw the pictures of the rooftops and the parties and the luxury apartments; but I found myself looking at the empty walls of a flight attendant crash pad in Queens, New york. It was just that to me : Empty. A world famous city full of people, and I couldn't find a familiar face, place or feeling. My Gossip Girl dreams died in less than a month. Crash Pads are in between houses for commuter flight attendants, It’s basically a dorm room. I tried to make the best of the rickety old bunk bed and the shared living spaces- but I didn't make a single friend or memory there. It's a great resource that I am very thankful for, but in no way a home. I paid 200 dollars a month to live in an illegal housing operation next to Laguardia Airport for 4 months.

The First Floor

Everything in New York is expensive and time consuming: the people, transportation, housing and even the fun. It requires more effort than I had ever given anything in my whole life. I remember getting on the subway after work one day and publicly bursting into tears after realizing I was going in the wrong direction. At least “New York City is one of the only places you can cry in public without being bothered” (Taken from @jcally’s Brilliant Twitter feed) Let a girl have her mental breakdown in peace every once in awhile! I started to collect a few friends from work and started to build meaningful relationships with my surroundings. I graduated from a 1 bedroom with 6 people I didn't know, to a 1 bedroom with 4 people I barely knew. Astoria, Queens is one of the coolest neighborhoods in New York and one of the most under appreciated. It’s just off to the right of the East river, above Long Island City and green point, Brooklyn. It was the perfect place to start growing as a person. Two people slept in the bed and two people slept on couches in the living room. My couch was cheap and uncomfortable BUT IT WAS BETTER than the crash pad. I needed comradery in my life, I was less miserable sleeping on that cheap couch than alone in my mind on the top bunk. When I was comfortable with my surroundings, I started to drown myself in what I do best = party and work. Two of the four girls left New York City ( for reasons stated above) and the remaining girl and I became very close friends. It was the first close friendship I had since moving to the City, and we traveled and laughed and partied. Progress was slow, but progress was happening. Life was better but far from perfect.

My biggest lesson this year was that living with roommates is just as hard as trying to make it in New York City. It is so easy to blame your roommates for any number of minor inconveniences in your life that most of the time people do. Don’t get it twisted, if you're annoyed and have not asked nicely: That is your problem. If you spread rumors or private information to others, you are just as bad as the minor inconvenience that started a feud in the first place. If you live together make it your personal responsibility to be on the same page with your roommate; or not. Pick your poison. I've been the annoying roommate and the annoyed roommate and it has no reflection of who I am as a person. My living situation is it healthiest when I let things go, understand others, and be a team player. Understanding each other with an open line of casual communication ( no hostility ) is more important than the mess they left in the living room after a drunken night out. Wake them up,ask them to clean up their mess and move on.

The first floor on 34th street was close to work and bars and food. I really loved that home with 1 bedroom and 4 people. It really meant something to me. As I’ve mentioned before I’m just about happy anywhere and material objects mean very little to me. I did my best to feel grateful for a safe place to sleep. Although mostly positive, I was busy in a way I’ve never been before and had pushed aside my mental health for just a little too long. During my year there I was dealing with the aftermath of my “big trauma” .

Everyone has a big trauma ,

it’s the event in a person's life that affects them in the most negative way. All traumas are important and often are never spoken about or never properly heard and processed. I never said I was dealing with it well; but any progress was just comforting enough to see the light at the end. I specifically felt hesitant to have close relationships with anyone. I held people at arms length and set them up to disappoint me. I was sure I was going to keep to myself and not let anyone in. ( if you know me you’re rolling your eyes, because I am the biggest personality you know ) its those people who believed my problems had value, they saved me. I had imposter syndrome for most of my first year, I didn’t think what I went through was bad enough to be important. I had enough people listen to me chatter away about my problems to me help me start healing in my own way. It can be very confusing to have it all and still be sad. I traveled non-stop and used every bit of youth I had to keep the party going. This was my dream life, almost. I paid $400 dollars a month to sleep on a couch in Astoria, Queens.

The Three Bedroom

Next we moved into a three bedroom on 47th street in Astoria, Queens . I was living with my remaining roommate, her new husband, and random roommate who reached out to us through a friend. Not ideal. But I had my own bedroom and I was proud. It was smaller than most suburban bathrooms; not an exaggeration. I had no room for anything more than a bed and a mirror. I had a dresser and place to hang my coats in a walkway across the hall. I thought that by having my own bedroom I could start to work on my mental health. I was going to create a safe space. It would have my film and my records and my shells from the beach back home. Unfortunately I didn’t think about how lonely it was going to be. My mental health was the worst living in the three bedroom with 4 people. I felt alone, I might be the only person on earth who truly loves to be around people all the time. So what did I do? I partied too much , I worked a lot and ignored that I was sad again. Are we noticing a trend? I’m super good at pretending I’m ok. I feel like I can’t remember a lot from that year, I don’t know if it’s because nothing happened or if too much happened. I wanted to be around people so badly that I started spending most of the days in coffee shops. I always wondered what project everyone was working on and what their coffee order was. I wanted to know why they had work off the afternoon of a weekday; what did they do for work? I imagined all the possibilities without speaking to a single soul. I wonder if anyone else was looking for someone to talk to too. This is New York, and people in New York hate small talk or anything that doesn’t make them money. I would even drink multiple lattes in one sitting just to buy time away. I started putting my smarts to use; I became an expert planner. I made budget spreadsheets, planned vacations, and set goals. I am still to this day fascinated with the logistics of travel. With a will there is always a way. I learned to prioritize my wants and needs and how to make everything happen for me. I was incredibly productive until my mac-book crashed and I had no money to replace it. Life happens, I thanked Mac for his 8 years of hard work and said my goodbyes. That's what that lady on Netflix said to do right ? I think it rings true that everything is always worse before it gets better. The following year I was to move back into a huge 2 bedroom with four amazing girls and it would be The best year yet. But then I would go on to live in a little apartment in Lower East Side Manhattan with an amazing view like I had fantasized that first day flying in. The year I lived in a three bedroom apartment with four people for $800 a month. Would be the last time “ New York sucks” would ever drop from my mouth.

I was coming up on almost 2 years living in New York. I was so happy at work and to this day love my job so much. it was my biggest reason to persevere when I had no other reasons. I had so many new friends going through the same struggle and working out their “ big trauma “. it was nice to look back and see progress. I found myself identifying as a New Yorker. I was a fast worker, walker and problem solver. I wanted to cut the bullshit, I didn’t want to make excuses, I wanted to make it happen. I don’t know how to explain how much I deeply hated New York at first and then did a miraculous 180; an Olympic figure skater would be proud. It was a place I felt most like an outsider (at first); and everyone I met there seemed to love it so much. I was jealous that I couldn’t love it the same. Then at that magical 2 year mark , everything began to fall into place. I always wondered what would have happened to me if I had gotten my transfer to Los Angeles in that 2 years. Would I be more socially relevant or have plastic surgery ? Who would my friends be? I finally had great friends, no drama, and plans. Lots of plans. Plans of travel and life goals and plans of mischief. Above all I had a purpose. There I said it. In the end New York City gave me a purpose. I started to form friends that weren’t even flight attendants and we started throwing the best parties and had so many events to attend they overlapped. Loving New York isn’t possible without hating New York. It’s awesome because it took all I had. In the famous words of American song writer “Jay-z” If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere”. After all this emotional turmoil I will have to eventually write about “ New York City” and drop the P. And how I couldn’t live without it. My biggest accomplishment to date was the day I removed my transfer request to Los Angeles.

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artbyangelasasser · 4 years

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Kitchen Renovations: Not That Scary!

You have actually reached your own individual tipping point: the toaster will not work when the coffeemaker's on, you're down to one working burner on your range, only one person can be in the kitchen at a time so your household eats in shifts, and lastly the microwave blew on the early morning of your huge discussion at work, and you decided, "Enough suffices. We need a new, functional kitchen area!"

Usually everybody has a particular tipping point; that one last thing that sends them into the restoration swimming pool. You can't just jump into a remodeling, particularly one as expensive, time consuming and inconvenient as a cooking area remodeling, you require a well believed out strategy of attack if you're going to pull it off in the quickest quantity of time with the least amount of hassle and expense.

Start by developing a Design Strategy: A renovation will just be as successful as the research and planning that's put into it. Like any business proposition you develop for work, you require to have a clear objective of what you wish to accomplish with the renovation. Do you yearn for updated electrical wiring, maximizing storage area, including an eating location, home appliances that work?

You can start by popping into kitchen area renovation stores to look at the most recent readily available functions in cooking area style. Speak with the personnel, tell them you're at the beginning of your journey and see if they have any ideas for you.

Eliminate pictures of kitchen areas you enjoy from publications and put them in a folder. Recognize why you like the kitchens you've picked - is it the space? The lighting? The color? The style of kitchen cabinetry or countertops? It is even practical to provide your designer pictures of things you certainly do not like. That way they won't propose those extremely things in your dream kitchen. When you determine what you actually desire, it will help your cooking area designer prepare the strategies that suit you.

If you have a friend who's recently renovated her kitchen area, take pictures and recognize what you like about it too and stick it in the folder with your other images.

Toronto architect Jacqueline Rhee states that when she sits down with prospective customers and they state to her, "Design us something stunning," she has to explain that they aren't offering her adequate info. The more instructions clients can provide their designer about their likes, dislikes and what their objectives for the space are, the better the style can live up to their expectations.

The Appraisal Institute of Canada estimates that a cooking area renovation will return 75-100% of your financial investment if you were to turn around and sell your home. Simply as you would plan your business's annual marketing budget, you require to establish a budget for your cooking area restoration. A basic guideline of thumb for how much to spend on a kitchen restoration is up to 10-15% of the worth of your house.

Hiring a Kitchen Area Company and/or Professional: Many people employ a contractor or kitchen designer through word of mouth. If you've been to a friend's just recently renovated home and you like what you see, start asking questions: Who did the work? Now, find at least two other contractors and/or kitchen companies so you can compare quotes.

Meeting with the Designer and Contractor: If, while you're meeting with a designer or contractor, your gut tells you that no matter how great the work is you couldn't stand being in the same room with him for more than a minute, cross him off your list of candidates. Likely, however, if you're getting that vibe, the contractor or designer is too; it's best to part ways before a relationship has begun.

If, on the other hand, your very first conference is wonderful and you're astonished with his enthusiasm and ideas and you get along as if you 'd understood each other your entire lives, you still require to do your research. Ask him how many jobs he can manage at once and how many he has going presently and make certain he is bonded and guaranteed.

Further essential research study - the web is your new buddy: Researching kitchen companies and contractors has ended up being a great deal simpler with the age of the internet. Now there are websites which are specifically concentrated on catching word-of-mouth reviews from customers online. If the business you have an interest in using do not have any evaluations, you might wish to take a look at other business that do and compare their services. Check out the company's website. If they don't have one, you need to question how professional they are.

Another idea you can try is getting in the business's name in online search engine like Yahoo and google!. You may find some feedback people have posted on them on various online forums. You can likewise publish a question asking if anyone has ever used this company. Lastly, examine the references she or he provides you as well, speak with a few of his previous customers and go see the work he or she did for them.

When you have actually picked your designer, specialist and/or kitchen area business, prepare: Ask yourself if you can endure the remodeling by setting up a second cooking area in the garage or basement. Do you have young children who would be better off away from the building and construction website? Make plans to be out of the house for a specific quantity of time and make certain that you and your project group have gone over the most sensible move-out and move-in dates.

Did you have to factor furnishings storage into your spending plan or can it be covered and saved on site? Once again, your contractor will inform you which is the best alternative depending upon the size of the job and your storage space availability on website.

During the restoration: Assumptions: Among the breakdowns in interaction between homeowner and specialist remains in presumptions made by one party or the other. For example, one lady had actually bought bathroom sinks and components for a brand new home. The professional saw that the powder room fixture would be equipped with separate taps and a faucet therefore drilled 3 holes in all the sinks due to the fact that he assumed that all the fixtures were the same. Unfortunately, they weren't and the house owner needed to replace the other fixtures to match the holes.

However inaccurate presumptions can just as quickly be made by the homeowner. A property owner handed a water filter package to the specialist and asked him to install it. The house owner had continued reading package that the water filter benefited the whole house and could be fitted on the primary supply of water. When she returned at the end of the day, the professional had actually installed it under the kitchen sink. She 'd never ever told him where it was to go, she had actually just assumed that he understood it was suggested for the whole home.

Problem solving: In any renovation, no matter how minor, there always seem to be unforeseen problems. How your contractor and you handle these problems depends on how proactive your contractor is.

Throughout Laura and Randy's primary floor remodeling, the designer had actually called for the utility room backsplash to include stainless-steel tiles; gorgeous, however at a cost of around $5,000. Laura balked. The specialist suggested instead a row of the tiles, 2 feet high, just behind the washer and clothes dryer at an expense of $500. Laura was grateful that contractor made her aware of the costs and had an alternative recommendation for her.

End result-- your dream room: Enduring the dust, sound and strangers in your house for weeks to months on end can be tiring. Even though you get along well with the team and your specialist, you can discover your mood becoming short, particularly if there are hold-ups throughout the job leading to extended building. Recognize that hold-ups are frequently inevitable which one day, you will be back in your home, the workers will be gone and your new gorgeous cooking area will be all yours.

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populistmedia · 6 years

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[EXCLUSIVE] Day in the life of an activist: Walk Away Campaign Founder Brandon Straka

Brandon Straka is the founder of the #WalkAway Campaign, and he shares his thoughts with Populist Media readers. Thi is an article written by Brandon. You can find him: on Twitter On Facebook This is Brandon's First video that helped him start a large and growing movement of Facebook testimonials: https://twitter.com/usminority/status/1007191747355729920 AND THIS IS HIS STORY, IN HIS WORDS: Six weeks ago I was a normal guy. Just a normal guy in an increasingly abnormal world. The majority of my agitation usually being derived by the ever-worsening breakdown of subway reliability on my long commutes back and forth to my apartment in Harlem, and the majority of my stress hinging on swinging my monthly rent and student loan payments. My life was, by most accepted measures, typical. But like many other Americans, I also carried an additional burden through my day today. A burden which hangs darkly over the landscape of normal life, making it impossible to forget that at any moment the thunder may crack, the lightning may strike, and once again, the downpour begin to siege. You see, I live amongst people who have become unhinged. In a liberal city like New York, the tenets of liberal ideology are sacrosanct and Trump Derangement is a celebrated condition. One is often reminded while engaging in a conversation where they fall on the privilege hierarchy totem pole. Furthermore, lest we allow our privilege to make us complacently presumptuous, deftly alert watchdogs reside in plenty to assure that we not assume to know another person’s preferred gender pronouns, that the world would be an indescribable utopia if heterosexual white men received their righteous abdication, and that no matter what you may have experienced in your life or what you are currently going through- that dark-skinned lady sitting across from you on the subway has things much, much worse. The President of the United States never leaves the purview of most liberals’ minds. He is the boogie man- always lurking- perhaps in the closet, perhaps under the bed, but he’s there... always. Like an unwanted fixture in a Manhattan studio apartment, he resides in their minds, taking up space, making it impossible for them to imagine arranging the thoughts in their minds without the obstacle of...HIM in the layout. He appears in conversation constantly. The rules of engagement now so acceptably lax that even the most illogical introduction brought about by non-sequitor or abrupt emotionally charged asides is considered common play. His omnipresent influence over the thoughts, plans, considerations, and of course, the most valuable liberal commodity- feelings- of leftists is inescapable. “How was your day today?”, “I mean, it was fine... considering how bad things are these days.” Thankfully, I am also inspired to be surrounded by the selflessly brave, “All we can do is continue to resist” I am told. This full force of this resistance usually manifests itself in the form of a facebook profile pic border garnering that very word, or a posted meme reminding us that this hero among us is very, very “woke”. I myself used to be a liberal. In the spring of 2017, just months after the election of Donald Trump, I had what is commonly referred to as a “red-pill experience”. I didn’t mean to take this pill. I didn’t actually even know it existed. I ended up swallowing the pill by accident- and tried my best to spit it out multiple times along the way. It began with a need to understand how half of the voting population could support Donald Trump. The media sources I trusted- CNN, MSNBC, The Huffington Post, and of course the greatest resource of all- my educated liberal friends had been affirming and reaffirming for months that this man was a racist. A bigot. A homophobe. And so much more. And his followers were just as bad! After all, how else could we explain away that 15 second soundbite that got so much airplay, in which we clearly saw this monster on the right mocking the disability of a reporter to the rousing cheers of his rabid brain-washed followers. It was a sickening sight to behold. I found myself unable to get through a day without feeling that pit in my stomach that reminded me how much I hated this man, and felt trapped under a dome of his domination- trapped in a world with those who covertly supported all of this- while I was unable to identify those who had betrayed our common decency. I needed to understand how this could happen in order to find a modicum of peace. I, too, had become Trump Deranged. So I began by taking to social media and pleading with Trump voters to help me understand. Most of the time, nobody would answer me. The more i asked and went unanswered, the angrier I became. I made a vow to never return to my home in the midwest again. I considered cutting off my parents. What other choice did I have? The media told me every day of the wave of violent crimes against minorities that he had brought on by “dog whistling” to his most dark and hateful base. Story after story was shared on social media by terrified LGBT people and racial minorities, with the rapidity of machine gun fire, warning us that the next day would bring an Executive Order repealing our hard-earned rights. When the orders never came to fruition, they provided a reasonable excuse, and ominously assured us it would be coming next week. How could our fellow Americans do this to us? And why don’t they care? Why won’t they answer me and be held accountable?? Finally, after many weeks, a crack appeared in the dam. I was reached out to by a school administrator who still resides in the quiet plains of the rural midwest. She told me all about Obama era regulations that resulted in the destruction of local small businesses and damaged their communities. She told me about the influx of illegal immigrants and the very real impact that these things have on the real people in small town America who are affected most. I was shocked and confused. The media had told me for years about the great and seemingly infallible man who had held office for 8 years, the man who held the rare accolade of completing a “scandal free” presidency. I had been told time and again that anybody who could criticize such a nearly perfect human being who honored us with a nearly perfect presidency could only do so because they are clearly consumed with hatred, driven mad by a black man occupying America’s most esteemed office. I researched the points this woman had made and was amazed to find that what she had said to me was true. My eyes had been opened a bit, but... this was hardly a smoking gun. And besides, maybe the liberal media did go a little soft on Obama. But that doesn’t explain or justify supporting the second coming of Hitler for Obama’s replacement. And what about that incident of mocking a reporter’s disability? No amount of dissatisfaction for our previous president could justify that national disgrace! And so back to social media I took to ask middle America what became of their conscience? How could they have overlooked this? This time it was a former babysitter, Diane, who reached out to me privately. “Have you seen this?”, she asked in her private message- including a link to a video titled “Debunking that Trump mocked the disabled reporter”. I was stunned and angry just reading the title. How brainwashed could these people be?? The media had explained to those of us on the left that we were being “gaslighted” by those on the right- now my own babysitter was trying to gaslight me, too! Arrogantly, I gave Diane an “lol” and told her I’d watch this propaganda piece when I got home. And so I did. And what I saw next was officially the moment the red pill touched my tongue. I stared, spinning and disillusioned as I watched the compilation of footage in the video- mostly of Trump on his campaign, some clips even going back ten plus years, showing Donald Trump using the exact same voice and gesture used to mock the reporter- but in every circumstance he was imitating somebody who was groveling- caught in a lie, behaving dishonestly. For the first time I watched the entirety of the segment of him telling the story about the reporter at his rally. And it became very clear to me. He did not mock that man’s disability. But the media I trusted told me that he did. What was going on? I began to dig deeper, and the more I researched the more unwanted truth was presented to me. I didn’t want to accept what I was discovering. Stories of black Americans going to Trump rallies to support him and being cut out of the shot when the liberal media arrived and framed up their camera angle to capture an image consistent with their “white people only” narrative. Numerous moments which were isolated and taken out of the context of Trump speaking on the campaign trail, spun to give the impression that his rallies were conventions of hate and the resurrection of racism and bigotry. The cover ups for Hillary Clinton. The dishonest poll skewing. The omission of inconvenient truths because they revealed the good in this man and those who support him. The dishonest manipulation and peddling of fear- primarily to those in minority communities, keeping us suspended in a constant state of fear. Donald Trump was not the master under the bed. It was the media. And the politicians on the left who were in cahoots with their agenda. I tried talking about what I had learned with those around me- friends and fellow New Yorkers. And most usually I was met with anger and contempt. “What are you doing!? So what, you love Trump now??”. And at that time, I didn’t. I truly just wanted to understand- and share what I was learning with someone else who could understand me. In the isolation of my experience, I took to the internet and sought comfort in finding others who had been through this same type of awakening that was happening to me. This is when I discovered this term... “red pilled”. There were others. Other people had spent their lives, like me, believing in the good of liberalism- even as we watched it be co-opted and absorbed by the very characteristics it claims to fight against. Others, like me, had discovered that the media is capable of not only omitting truth when delivering the news, but actually beginning with a deceitful narrative and plucking out moments and sound bites to twist and spin until they neatly support their agenda. That the left wing politicians who for so long had assured me they would support me and the gay community at large, went along with the false narratives and fear mongering that kept me and my community up at night. I attempted to expose these things on social media. My intentions were pure- I didn’t want others to have to be afraid the way i was afraid. The response I got from fellow liberals and never Trumpers was astounding. When I was lucky, I would be unfriended. In many other circumstances, friends and family used social media to proclaim me mentally ill, unstable, on drugs, self-loathing, starved for attention, insane, stupid, ignorant, and a victim of body- snatching- a once good person now replaced by a brainwashed bigot. My invitations to social events came to a standstill. The texts stopped. The calls stopped. When people ran into me in public they would often behave uncomfortably, squirming to get away, treating me as a defective who was frightening to be around. The truth about liberalism became clear to me. This is a religion, one which demands unquestioning groupthink to be an accepted member of the clergy. Any dissenting opinions on any host of issues ranging from gun rights to the legitimacy of the wage gap is grounds for removal. To belong, you must believe in a privilege hierarchy which separates people by race, religion, gender, sexual orientation and organizes them into camps of victims and oppressors. You must believe the media, no matter how preposterous the lies are that they tell. You must hate the president based off of these lies. You must engage in acts of resistance based of this hatred- including supporting jokes about his beheading, urinating on his name on a public street, threatening and intimidating his supporters. You must always retain instant access to anger- so as to become enraged at any moment when the signal to do so is sent out by the left wing media and politicians. If you are unwilling to comply, the implications of this choice are clear. The threat of loss of friends, family, career and social standing are liberalism’s greatest weapons to intimidate its members into never straying the flock. Unfortunately for the left, they messed with the wrong guy. In May of 2018 I sat down to write what I call the “definitive manifesto” on everything that is wrong with the Democratic Party and liberalism. I shot a slick video using the script and devised a campaign to accompany the video, knowing there are surely hundreds of thousands or more who have been waiting to be set free just as I had set myself free. I called the movement the #WalkAway Campaign. I encouraged others to #WalkAway from the Democratic Party and the hatred and rage which has now become synonymous with the left. I asked those who were willing to leave to tell their own stories by making video testimonials and posting them to the facebook group: the #WalkAway Campaign. I had hoped the campaign would be a success and that others would open their eyes and feel inspired by my lead. Just six weeks ago I released the video and the campaign. And back then, I was a normal guy living in an increasingly abnormal world. Now, everything is different. Within a month my video had received millions of views and been shared tens of thousands of times. Conservative media picked up on the movement. I dedicated myself to speaking to anybody who was willing to talk about the Campaign. No less than five interviews a day. Sometimes twelve. And the people began to #WalkAway in droves. Today, just six weeks after launch, the #WalkAway Campaign has nearly 120,000 members on facebook. Thousands of testimonials- video and written, by those who want civility to be the norm again. People who want their friends and family back. True patriots who fear an impending civil war and see #WalkAway as a possible last ditch effort to save America from imploding- done in by the dishonesty and derangement caused by the liberal media and current leftist lunacy. I have become a public figure. This is not something that scares me, nor is it something that I wish to run from. I’ve always been a leader. As a performer, I’ve always felt at home on a stage. I never dreamed I’d be leading an international movement as a conservative political figure. But I’ve now learned that God has a hell of a sense of humor. I’ve been called to action, and I take this call seriously. The response from the left regarding #WalkAway has been typical. They ignored us as long as they could. Then the denials. Then the lies. And then the retributions. They said the Campaign was a non-movement. A silly trending hashtag that was barely worth mentioning. As #WalkAway grew and the hashtag became one of the most used on the internet, out they came again with outlandish conspiracies about Russian bots and foreign interference. I have been accused of being a Putin puppet. I have been accused of being a (very stupid and very untalented) actor, hired by the Koch brothers, the GOP, the Trumps. After being recognized from television, I have been refused service in a store and labeled “alt-right”. I have had left wing news sources accuse me of working in tandem with subversive extremist clicks and organizations. They have attempted to erase the members of the #WalkAway Campaign, whom I call “the Patriots" by reporting that they are not real. Despite their video testimonials, these people who are bravely opening their hearts and minds for all the world to see and hear- telling their truth about the pain, disappointment and loss of hope they have experienced by those who engage in these very behaviors- they do not exist. They are “bots’. And the dishonest leftists have social media on their side. Facebook regularly removes thousands of members of the #WalkAway Campaign at a time. The platform has currently blocked my ability to message the Patriots or respond to their messages to me. Their ability to share about the group is also often blocked. Just as the left can not allow themselves to handle the thought that liberalism and the Democratic Party has scammed them, they can not allow themselves to accept that #WalkAway is a real movement and a real threat to their existence. The same irrational, unhinged, inability to deal with reality is manifesting itself once again in their refusal to listen to the real words of real people, and instead live in a state of denial about tens of thousands of people walking away from their party. Should the midterms and 2020 election prove to be a conservative windfall, the implication of this refusal to accept reality will surely show itself once again, in the belief by those remaining on the left that world is becoming even more racist, more hateful, and even more manipulated by outside propoganda. Sadly, many will never see that the truth of these assertions lies only in the mirror of the accuser. Read the full article

#BrandonStraka #WalkAway

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populistmedia · 6 years

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EXCLUSIVE: Day in the Life of an activist: Walk Away Campaign Founder Brandon Straka

#BrandonStraka #WalkAway

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