I just spent the last two hours being gloriously childish on Facebook/Twitter. I am, once again, not sorry.
I was originally going to do a post on passion, but my heart got thwarted a bit tonight, watching Obama’s farewell address. I definitely needed to be a child about certain trending topics, because the heaviness in my chest is also in my blink and my walk and my sleep; my entire life is sodden with the moist clinging of sad truths and harsh probables, and cackling loudly with my head back and my eyes squeezed shut against the giggles in my belly was something I didn’t know I needed until I succumbed to ‘tinkle tinkle little czar’ (courtesy of someone on Twitter) and Gin and Tacos once again being hysterical and on point at the same time.
I’ve decided to take the address as a call to action (because it was). I’ve decided to focus on how utterly badass that entire family is going to be out of the White House. I’ve decided to pretend like I’m always this fatigued, like I’m just half lidded as a general rule, because I know what fighting the fatigue does, and I can’t afford the inevitable loss of that battle. I’ll just go about my ish tired. I did all of grad school in that slouch; fuck energy anyways.
I think a lot of us have been stepping up, lately. I think more calls have been made than ever before. I think more events have been scheduled, more research has been done, more info about local elections has been read and processed and attended to. I think those numbers are up.
I hope they keep going up. I hope I’m right about the calls and the effort and the actual action. I hope that when it is not enough, we will not hesitate to immediately do a fuckton more. I hope that our hesitation dies as thoroughly as our privileged optimism did last year.
I hope that when the sprinkle of warm disdain meets our weathered cheeks, we startle enough to buck the impending deluge from our besmirched sheets.