Loading...Oh boy, you guys, you’ve caught me on one of those days where I got approximately zilch to say. (And apparently have traveled back in to a Josie and the Pussycats-starring-Rachel Leigh Cook-era of early 2000s slang. Da bomb. Etc.)
I could go off on Facebook activism and why it sucks to get into those endless endless horrible threads of psuedo-political discourse (1. ENDLESS. END. LESS. 2. Half the people engaged in the conversation don’t know what they are talking about and just want to call dem liberals bleeding heart pinko commies and liar liarwholes [this actually happened with that spelling and I keep reading it as ‘liarwhore’, which is much more interesting] or call those conservatives heartless fascist sheeple who blindly obey Limbaugh and Focus on the Family [I’m sure this has happened], and no one learns anything nor listens to other people. 3. You always end up hurting the feelings of the host’s partner/mother/grandpa/favorite babysitter/cult leader/actual religious leader. 4. There’s a nasty emotional hangover usually compounded by a nasty actual hangover, because as we all know, alcohol usually deescalates conflict. 5. It looks bad when you lose your temper on the internet.)
I could also go off on the Manic Pixie Dreamgirl/Woman as McGuffin that I saw in a movie that ALMOST GOT RIGHT SO MANY TIMES but no, it was a romcom that appeared to be subversive but was ultimately still about a man finding himself through the help of a quirky, less-than-dimensional woman. It did have Catherine O’Hara, but The Decoy Bride it was not. (Still worth watching if you’re looking to while away the afternoon and want something that is a step up from Lifetime, which, by the way, I love.) Anyway, The Decoy Bride had David Tennant and lots of Scottish accents, which is always an A in my book. But somehow, today is not the day for a feminist screed.
I could talk about the ways the poors get screwed over by the system in a way that is so delicately balanced and creatively nuanced in its cruelty that other countries should be protesting the practice of torture by poverty (and the nuns are already doing it, so it’s not an unreasonable expectation), but honestly, I got to spend money this week on sushi so it’s a rant that is currently facetious and also…
I’m tired.
I’m tired of living in this world where my rights are so easily stomped upon and the stomping so passionately supported by good people.
I’m tired of media that is both comforting and undermining, that makes me choose between enjoying myself with a side entree of guilt or losing out on shared cultural experiences.
I’m tired of telling myself that crippling debt is something that I’ll get used to, because I’m going to have it my whole life.
I worked many jobs for several years. The best and worst part of subsuming myself entirely to subsistence living and the hustle of being young, broke, and educated (besides never having to choose between food and some other necessity because I could barely afford food anyway–up top, bro!) was the lack of feelings. I cared about politics and social justice and equality and rights, but I didn’t care with the religious fervor that marked me before and since. I didn’t have to care beyond my immediate space. Victoria’s Secret starts selling shapewear*? Time for a new job that just happened to call at the same time! Constant aggressive street harassment? Time for a third job so I can buy that car! Worrying about pollution is for later, when I can afford it.
Listen, I cared, and I cared enough to talk about, but I didn’t care in the way that I would actually engage in long debate on social media. I didn’t care to the point of reading dozens of articles and sharing them over the course of day. I didn’t care enough to feel sick for days after explaining the reasons behind the reasons that made a law or court decision really bad news in the long term.
Now that I have a great job and time to do things like eat properly, sleep, and feel things, the pendulum of human experience has swung all the way back in the other direction and I feel ALL THE THINGS ALWAYS OH MY GOD MAKE IT STOP.
And why is this important enough to read? Fuck if I know, you’re the one who’s still here. Sucker. You read about my feelings, turn in your man-card!
More to the point that I’m literally making up right now: last night I got a text from someone who saw one of those fruitless debates and wanted to thank me for speaking up. So I guess the point is that even if it hurts to care, even if you make mistakes when you say something, it’s important to keep talking. You might actually change someone’s mind. You might find your own mind changes. In a perfect world, we’ll all be better at the end of the day for talking to each other. And also it helps the CIA, FBI, and NSA keep tabs on you and your socialist commie fascist ways and they’re paying me off so you keep doing it. Up top, bro! Hella tight!
*Imagine shoving your body into a compression sock that sucks in everything from the knees to the boobs, because god forbid the general public sees that you have a human body shaped in a human way, instead of some upsized Barbie or Ken doll . Bending your waist is so last season.
