It seems so strange that it's such a sunny, beautiful day...nice breeze...gorgeous. It feels like it should be cloudy knowing that in early January we will return to suffering profound chaos and a miraculously amazing economy that will become Trump's greatest success starting in February. If ever someone wonders if magic exists in the world, it does. Trump will magically be elevated as he is given credit for all of Biden's accomplishments until his toxic miasma of leadership takes root. But even then, it will be a gremlin's fault...or we will be gaslit that the sky is purple when we know damn well it isn't. The Bankruptcy King who is most savvy at accruing mounting legal debt and assaulting women will be given a scary amount of power once again. We've been down this road before. It's easy to linger...my God is it easy to linger.
But then what? It feels so hopeless that we are here again. That this horrible human with absolutely no redeeming qualities will have the power to terrify and torment countless people...including people who inexplicably voted for him. It won't even be worth an I told you so. They can just fuck off into the sun. I have no interest in hearing their tales of woe. They can pound sand. I have the freedom to ignore them, and I plan to do just that.
I'm well into a whole other piece about the role of having an ID and the struggles obtaining one. But that seems unimportant at this particular moment as I try to keep myself from completely unraveling in a cesspool of anxiety and anger...so much anger. That will change when I get over myself, but right now I can't think of IDs. I've had that piece on my to-do list for months. It can wait another week or so.
I'm forcing myself to consider the climate of what will be through the lens of freedom. Why not? It's the battle cry of every person who yearns to oppress others. But mostly I want to consider the freedom to feel like shit...the freedom to feel hopeless and to give up completely. It's a profound, potentially unburdened freedom to even consider surviving in that headspace, oblivious to bad news and controversy.
I have the freedom to not do anything about this situation. I live in an area that will be touched by the cataclysmic mess of Trump and his GOP, but not remotely as bad as other places. My family and I will probably be fine...mostly. Life will continue on and if I don't go on social media, and if I refuse to remain informed by corporate media, I could possibly forget that there will be orange foundation stain and greasy McDonald's fingerprints on everything. That freedom doesn't feel very free, but it is. I have a choice to not pay attention.
How will I spend my freedom come January? Probably get busy...again...like I do because a quirk of my personality is that I simply can't help myself. No idea what happens or what can be done, but there must be something, right? What will that freedom mean for me emotionally? No idea about that either. But I have the freedom of space. The freedom to consider...things. The freedom to make a plan.
(Image description: tornado in the middle of the image with a destroyed building under it. Image credit: Insurance Claim Recovery Support)
