My mom used to tell me (when I needed it, I’m sure) “If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Sometimes I don’t heed this valuable advice, and I always pay for it. A few people have asked me where the blog is/has been these past few months.
I’ve written about three blogs, but I haven’t published any of them because one of my goals for the blog is to impart a bit of levity. I know I’m not saving the world or providing anything useful like product reviews or conspiracy theories, I’m just pulling random thoughts from my arse and blabbing about them. But all of these unpublished blogs had a bitter refrain of WHAT THE (BLEEP) IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD, something you might not need more of. Every time you turn on your phone/computer there are three or four newsfeeds about terrorists or flaming car-crash accidents or parks people accidentally drowning all the beavers. Or as my husband pointed out to me recently, things like…the online reviews of the new Star Wars movie, taken over by fake bot reviews, designed to lower the ratings because someone doesn’t like the heroes to be women or people of color. That is one giant WTF. I have had…nothing nice to say.
It’s hard to be silly when the world feels like it’s becoming a giant pissing contest, with the awful people running the show. After so many clips of President Evil Cheeto, after witnessing the upsurge in white supremacist bullshit, after reading and watching irrefutable evidence about climate change and how we are up our self-made piss creek without a paddle, I am tired. We all are. We need a respite from this onslaught of all that is wrong with the world.
Sometimes I deflect the craziness with a run. One of last year’s resolutions was to actually go to the gym and work off the muffin top. It’s much smaller now and sometimes I can even hide it in a billowy shirt. And… I learned how to run my ass off! Actually, I did run my ass off, I don’t know what happened to it, which is a bit of a problem because now there is nothing to hold up the back part of my jeans. It’s like a glacier just gave way, leaving a barren cliffside. So, although I’m feeling really good and slightly less pudgy if anybody finds my ass under the treadmill or in the woods near my house, please give me a call.
Sometimes I curl up inside a big blanket and repeat “fuzzy bunnies” until I feel better, imagining I am huddling next to lots of little furry creatures. Sure, it’s just my breath making the blanket hot, but it’s okay to pretend if it makes you feel better. It’s best to do this alone because people (as in children or husbands) might not know what to do with mom huddling in a blanket talking to herself. That being said, I think more than one person (perhaps also half a bubble off) has been known to walk around in a bunny costume when it isn’t Easter or Halloween. I get it, man. Take the bunny with you, ward off the evil. I get it.
Once, in Toronto as a carefree twenty-something, I was riding my bike downtown. I’d stopped at a red light and paused to see a man in a suit, walking along the one stretch of grass in the middle of the boulevard. He had taken his socks and shoes off and stopped near me, on the edge of the busiest of intersections. He was staring at his toes, gripping the grass, his tie loosened, jacket unbuttoned.
He was smiling, letting loose a huge grin.
I don’t know if he was on his lunch break, or quit his job, or was having a moment of gratitude. But hundreds of people must have seen him, must have related, and must have smiled themselves, in acknowledgment for this one small act of workday defiance. It’ll never be seen by millions on youtube, but it was seen, and that might be all that matters.
When I’m really desperate, I go to the “faith in humanity, restored” clips and I watch movies of cops herding ducklings across the street. I watch the dad grab the stepdad’s hand to give away the daughter at her wedding. I read the stories of reunited war buddies and rescued orangutans and people who give their organs to those in need. I need to see that the world is a good place, with good people in it. But I started to notice… the clips started to repeat themselves. Or people changed the stories slightly, like a fable. But that’s ok, because what they are trying to do, fabricated story or not, is attempting to build a dam. One that protects you, but you can still see over, still gaze upon the harsh realities and decide which part you are going to play in fixing it.
In 2018, I’d like to restore someone else’s faith in humanity. Maybe you could be that person for me, and we can all lean on each other. Post that picture of your cat chasing laser beams right out the screen window, because I need it. Tell me about the guy you saw help the old man across the street, and how he didn’t just deposit him there but talked to him after. Flash me a picture of your dimpled butt out the window of a small float plane. (Actually, don’t do that, some guy fell out doing this and now lives on in the Darwin awards book). And of course, I want you to be politically active, to fight for causes you believe in. But, now more than ever, we also need the knock-on effect of kindness, of silliness, of plain out ridiculousness. And I need to borrow your bunny suit if you have one. There’s work to do.