The last blog I wrote was about trying to restore faith in humanity. But…I’m failing at it. “Fuzzy bunnies” just isn’t working. Not even pictures of cats stuck in the couch or wearing hamburger outfits can cheer me up. And no matter how many of those “decent people being decent” clips I watch, it’s not sinking in. I’ve gone back and forth about writing again why I’ve been missing, but then I always think “who cares? It’s not like you’re saving lives here. You’re just pontificating, blowing off some steam, having some fun.” Which is true. But just in case you’re feeling sad, maybe this will help you, to know you aren’t alone.
I’ve been down. I tried to make light of it in the last blog- it’s what I do- but, basically, ever since Trump got elected -something inside me broke. A friend called me after the election and said, “What are we going to do?” and I didn’t have words for her. We cried on the phone. We shared a deep sadness and concern, lamenting the loss of the altruistic man that came before him, who wasn’t perfect, but tried to help the common man, the animals, the environment. To watch it all being undone… I can’t seem to get over it. I can’t get over the misogyny, the hate, the pissing contests that could lead to nuclear war. I have stopped watching the news, that helps a bit, but not much. I can call him the evil cheeto and try to make light of it, but ultimately, it’s not funny. It never was.
I think artists are a lot like frogs. It’s not just that we have thin skins (we do, but we have spent years trying to build them up so we can be in this environment) it’s that we need to change or we’re going to die out- our sense of creativity crushed under the weight of what IS. We need to adapt to a world that is rapidly erasing the things we took for granted: common decency, social consciousness, empathy. In a world that espouses “what’s in it for me?” as its mantra, I feel sick about it, a lot. I know I’m supposed to somehow roll with the punches and ride the wave of bullshit, stick my head above it. And the hardest part for me is that I try to espouse the “we create our own reality” stuff. The hippy in me really feels that we can, and do, manifest. So now what. If I can’t pull myself out of the tailspin, what am I offering the world? What am I telling myself, it’s all for naught, you’re beaten? Abandon hope, all ye who enter here? I don’t want to be that person, I don’t want to endlessly harp about the evils of the world or the state of our future. Instead, I burrow down deeper into the thick mud, the part that’s not polluted anyway, and hold my breath, wait for spring (or impeachment).
I’ve been writing fiction about worlds that fold, that try and rebuild. The endings are always murky, as I’ve lost the surety that humanity will choose the right path. And that’s really the problem. As yet another school shooting (gee, we can’t seem to fix this problem, how could we fix this problem?) or another indigenous man killed for being on a white man’s property (the gun just “went off, I dunno, yeah, he was unconscious at the time..”) it is hard to stay positive, to think the good will counter the bad. I am happy about #METOO. I am sure most of you women are, and some men as well. But I just read an article that said the backlash could be…get this…men won’t hire women anymore, for fear of tripping up. WHAT THE SHIT, PEOPLE. Can you not rise to the occasion, and just be a better person? Can you not see women as equal, rather than, “If I can’t harass them, I’d rather not have them around?”
Ok, you can see how I might be a bit down, things are a mess. I wanted to use explicatives before “mess” but there were too many of them to fit in.
Again, and I said this before, but the only things I can do to make myself feel better are to try and do some good in my community, try to pull myself from my navel-gazing and do something for someone else because I can’t seem to figure out how to do it for me. Like some wise person said (it was probably Mark Twain, could there be a wiser person?) If you are lost, help someone else. They might be even more fucked than you and need your time, your energy, and your love to get them through.
Wait, he would never say the f-word, so that can’t be him…
Anyway. Because I said I might be funny, I’ll try.
Possible things I can do to cheer myself up:
- My driver’s license is expiring. I think I’ll wear something really horrible to my picture taking. I’ll part my hair down the middle and stick out my top teeth when I smile. That way, if I ever get carded, and the person recoils in horror, only to see my semi-normal face there, they can say,” Wow! You look great! Did you have some work done?” And I’ll say, “No! But thanks! Hair gel can work wonders, you know?!? I will feel super good about myself. Create your own reality!
- Take more walks, now that it isn’t raining every stupid day here in Vancouver. The birds are wise, I just need to listen to them. Maybe even talk to them, because my whistling skills are rusty. Who cares if I become the local crazy bird lady. Somebody’s got to be.
- Organize the kitchen drawers, because I cannot seem to keep them in an orderly fashion. This is because I am a slob, but I am coming to terms with that part of me. I am also coming to terms that I am not anywhere near a perfect mother, wife, friend, or neighbor and that I am that person who harasses the school administration because I don’t agree with their policies. This also makes me kind of an asshole. But I can live with that. And if I clean my kitchen drawers out, somehow, somehow all of these other things will feel better, I just know it.
- Break out the moustaches again…when driving. They are buried at the bottom of the storage area near the driver’s side. They used to be out, and at the ready. Because if you put a moustache on and make crazy eyes at the driver that just cut you off, it really makes you feel good. They are confused, and you are laughing. See the blog “the Face” for more on that.
- (INSERT YOUR IDEAS HERE) Get that? I’m ending on that one. Because here is where you come in. How do you make yourself feel better? And don’t say alcohol, because that’s a depressant and then I can’t sleep. I tried that already. I try to be there for you, but this time, I need you, your coping mechanisms. If I’m to pull my head out, I need a few more ideas in the arsenal. And did you just notice “arsenal” has the word “arse” in it? I just did – that makes so much sense. I think I’m feeling better already.