Photo credit: Foter.com
Fucking Facebook, AMIRITECANIGETANAMENHOLLABACKGURL.
I tried to quit it, but it pulled me back. Who run the world? Marky Z, that’s who.
All of my son’s activities connect through Facebook groups and without an account, I would not have the fresh 411 on all of his extracurricular shenanigans. Which blows. Because I love a good shenanigan. But I went back on. Dancing with the devil in the pale blue light.
(Bee tee dubbers, don’t friend request me. I will not approve it. I love you for real, but not enough for political outbursts and what kind of Care Bear you would be. Come see me on Insta, where our dumb has to fit into a square box and we can just keep scrolling on past the Care Bears.)
Because I am still on Facebook, it keeps telling me to update my Wonderish page. Which I forgot even had. Because my blog ain’t nothing but a lonely wind blowing virtual tumbleweeds across an endless desert road, yo. A blog inspired by nostalgia for the good old days of 2010 when bullshitting with my homies about handjobs and mental illness on my old blog made the days less wrist-slitty and more cool titty(see what you’ve been missing?).
Those days are long gone. The world is broken. The country is broken. It’s become that insanely foul toilet from Trainspotting except so much worse because DEATH FAMINE WAR RAPE MURDER OPPRESSION DONALD FUCKING TRUMP MAN(*sung to the tune that I sing in my head when I’m trying not to lose my mind*).
There are things on the internets and in that REAL LIFE thing every day that make me want to scream and shout and shake my fists at the sky. Those same things make me want to(or at least want to want to)sing and laugh and verbally dance about because life is ultra less fun and super way less silly and we all need to RISE UP and CREATE CHANGE and MAKE JOY and just Steven Universe the fuck outta this world.
The system needs a hard reboot and a complete rebuild from the ground up. And it all feels so heavy and important and necessary. Every cause, every group, every PERSON. I want to do it all. I want to change everything right now and make things fair and equal and awesome for everyone forever and ever, amen. But I can’t. And neither can you.
Functional living and I have a complicated relationship at best. The more I want to do all the things, the harder my brain nopes. It’s all oh really, you’d like to attend which protest and join how many groups and volunteer to do what now? How about a six week horizontal stint alone in your bed cave with a generous helping of mental anguish and self-loathing instead? Good luck keeping your ultra active 7 year old alive.
So, I’ve been laying on the suave. Hey brain, you look nice today. The surface area of your folds is looking hella supple and increased. What do you say we get out of bed today?
Now I’m just looking for the next best thing I can do. Sometimes I call make a call or take a shower or do an errand or chore. Sometimes I can volunteer or call a politician. Sometimes I can amplify social media accounts for other resisters and/or marginalized people or groups. Sometimes I can spread love and kindness and connection on the internet. Sometimes I can only do the minimum amount of parenting that keeps my child alive, safe and fed. Whatever I do, if it’s the next best thing I am capable of at the moment, it’s ok. And ditto for you, obvisauce.
Ok, so I can’t. And you can’t.
But you know who can, right?
Sing it with me, children.
Because those days that you can’t, maybe they can. And then you take over that time when they can’t. And we all just keep doing the next best thing.
I tell my son that life is hard, but we have each other. The more others we have, the less hard it will be.
Be an other.