Mockingjay World

I go away for two months and some change and this fucking year just….blows up in my face.

A dear friend came out for a visit today and we shared our fears about this new potentially-fascist reality we find ourselves in. Should we move to Canada? Go completely off-grid so we aren’t found when things get bad? Will we be able to have the quiet retirements we want? Will my retirement fund implode if we face another 1929 stock meltdown? Who knows? Are we worried about the wrong things?

All I know is that 2016 can kiss my pink ass. So much death and heartache. And yet I think the coming years will hurt even more. Not so much for me (though that’s still a distinct possibility as a single mother attempting to raise two very smart girls in an atmostphere that seems to feel it’s okay to voice sexist, homophobic and xenophobic beliefs) as for others much worse off. I don’t want to live through another WWII. I also don’t want to watch things devolve into bureaucratic chaos either. It all seems bleak. It’s hard to get up in the morning.

I feel like I’m living an episode of Survivor where the most delusionally complacent person is blindsided and voted out. I feel we’ve just voted ourselves out. Not me. Us. Have we been thinking about us? Because I have. I’ve been thinking about us. You. I’m negligible. I’m a drop in the bucket.

I don’t know. Either my fears are ill-founded or we need to strap on our boots and sharpen our weapons for a prolonged fight. Either way, I’m prepping for the fight. There isn’t much I can do, in my tiny white world, that will make a difference. The idiot has invited all the members of The Man to run the show for awhile. I don’t think that’s what his sheep thought they were voting for. Feels a little North Korea up in here right now. Tell me I’m wrong. Please tell me I’m wrong. But lies are what’s for dinner right now. And they taste like stale fish sticks.

I’m focusing on what I can do. I’m making art. Making things. Perhaps when the wrong button is pushed or the wrong dictator has been insulted beyond acceptace and we’re nothing but fairy dust in the sky, it won’t matter, but I’m doing and making and trying to quell the fears my kids have about the future they face. We can laugh and say, oh, this too shall pass, but we haven’t been a country all that long. Not in the scheme of things. Maybe this is a phase or maybe its the end of the world as we know it and we don’t feel so fine. Who knows? I sure as hell don’t.

Art will fight the power until we’re dust. Love and compassion and beauty. So throw it all out there and make a contingency plan. Maybe I’m crazy, but it feels like the end of something. This whole year has felt like the end of something. I don’t feel hopeful any more. I feel like all those dystopic novels weren’t actual fiction. They were sent from the future as warnings. Except the people that got us in this mess don’t read so we’re screwed.

Perhaps I’m wrong. I hope I am. I continue to go through the motions and pretend these holidays mean something as if they ever did. We make plans. What else can you do? We fight back. We resist. We insert sticks in moving wheels. We scatter tacks on the ground. We blow pepper in faces. We clog websites and email accounts and voice mails. We take down phone lines. We fight and express ire and refuse to go down without a fight. It’s our right to do so. The ignorant fearful disenfranchised think they’ve won but they haven’t. They put their eggs in the wrong basket. At the very least, the next few years will be clogged pipes and stuck gears. At the very worst….

I have the next few months off from the second job and Santa is bringing the children chromebooks so I’m hopeful (on this microscopic level) that I’ll be able to write again with some frequency. I have lots of photos to post on the other blog. I haven’t been idle, just computer- and time-impaired.

Until I’m jailed for not pledging allegiance to the new order, I’ll be here. I hope you will too. I’m holding up two fingers, Hunger Games-style. The sign of solidarity. President Snow can kiss my ass. I’m on Team Rue.


3 thoughts on “Mockingjay World

  1. Yep, I’m with you. I’m ready to fight. I’m so angry at people like my brother, who registered to vote for the first time in his 53 years just so he could cast his ballot for the Tangerine Nightmare. He doesn’t realize that he’s just fucked himself over, and he’s so ignorant and has his head so far up his own ass that he will probably never realize it. Multiply by 60 million just like him and that’s how we ended up with this con man as our president. And P.S. If I’d realized this was going to happen, I might have thought harder about the wisdom of moving to within 2 miles of the Pentagon. If he gets us into a war, my neighborhood is probably toast. UGH gonna be a long 4 years

  2. Until this last week, I hadn’t really thought about it as a plus that I don’t know anyone who voted for “the Tangerine Nightmare.” It does make my life a quiet lagoon in the storm seas of change, though.

  3. You wrote:

    I’m focusing on what I can do. I’m making art. Making things.


    Art will fight the power until we’re dust. Love and compassion and beauty. So throw it all out there . . . .

    I’ve had that same resurgence of the need to create. After reading your post, I think it’s because art, love, compassion and beauty are the antithesis of Trump and I need to actively stand on the side of love and art.

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