Guess Who’s Back, Back Again

Disclaimer: I’m a believer in writers expressing themselves candidly, transparently. So the words on this page reflect my current emotional state – lack of punchline and all. For more light-hearted fluff, you’ll want to keep scrolling. But for those interested in the full context of where my head is at, read on. Perhaps you feel the same.

Your prayers have been answered: after a lengthy hiatus, I’ve returned more basic than ever. Suffice to say, I’ve eaten a ton of avocado toast and purchased a lot of Soul Cycle vouchers that I don’t ever intend to use since we last touched base.

Why the break before?

As previously stated, “free time” had become a non-existent entity. My color-coordinated, highly categorized calendar that only someone with a mild obsessive personality disorder could create was jam-packed as I embraced the reality of prepping for the GMAT someday. Netflix was but a distant memory.

Although ‘being busy’ just scrapes the surface. In my own personal little bubble, life continued its usual pattern of costume parties and taco Tuesdays. How could I complain? I was #blessed with a less-crazy-than-average family, a manageable first job that wasn’t likely to lead me to an early grave (very rare these days!), an apartment overlooking the marina, and a solid crew of friends who still loved me even with my incessant group texts and activity schedules.

In fact, my first year in LA was loaded with so many priceless moments I compiled a video highlight reel for my birthday.

But I’d be a big bundle of ‘clueless’ and ‘self-absorbed’ if I gazed back on 2016 with a wistful smile. Quick recap: our country continuously outdid itself on the ‘is-this-shit-for-real meter’ – all crescendoing up to Crouton Mussolini’s inauguration last Friday. Yet many fellow Americans appear blissfully ignorant of the fact that ‘history repeats itself’ and we’re backseat to the classic prelude of a totalitarian regime.

Think I’m exaggerating? Familiarize yourself with 1920s Germany and Italy, then get back to me. (Spoiler alert: normalization and censorship are Phase 1.)

‘President’ Twitler has effectively issued a media blackout for the EPA, reinstated the Mexico City Policy, revived the Keystone XL and Dakota Access Pipelines, withdrawn from the Trans-Pacific Partnership, frozen hiring for most federal workers, excluded the use of insurance for abortion coverage, repeated outrageous lies about voter fraud, and signed an executive order to weaken the Affordable Care Act. It’s been 6 days.

If you’ve been paying attention, this comes as no shock.

But mostly, my peers don’t share my outrage; instead, they cling to acceptance and neutrality despite a volatile political climate… perhaps because it has not personally touched them. (Yet.) We carry on with our lives, dissecting the latest episode of The Bachelor over happy hour cocktails, no nod to the looming potential of nuclear war.

(Maybe people will give a shit once they learn that Mexican imports may face a 20% tax increase. Just imagine how expensive tequila handles will be! Mucho Sad.)

This utter lack of acknowledgment has only exacerbated my cynicism. As a result, blog entries about chatting with coked out former Disney stars at house parties felt all the more trivial. Shameful, even. I was devoting my time to frivolous story-telling and cutesy Instagram captions and Facebook status updates all while Syrian children fled death in their own backyard?

Thoughts & Feelings Now

But I’ve arrived to some new conclusions. First, that – to state the obvious – human beings are capable of focusing on an infinite number of issues. There will always be another subject more dire, more deserving of your attention. It’s important to keep perspective (if you haven’t read Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, I highly recommend it), but that doesn’t mean our personal struggles are automatically inconsequential. You can march in solidarity and donate to non-profit groups and raise awareness on social media – all while, yes, taking a breather to blog about coked out former Disney stars at house parties. Speak out, but don’t punish yourself every time you don’t.

Because, as the world spirals into pandemonium, we can’t neglect our own mental health. More and more lately, I’ve felt a surge of guilt every time I laugh and celebrate and enjoy myself – and that’s a toxic way to navigate life. I can’t effectively resist Tr*mp’s dictatorship if I’m constantly battling waves of shame. (Please note that I’m not regarding anger and frustration as counter-productive – far from it. I’ll touch on this more in a future entry.)

The bottom line: when my own sanity seems to slip through my fingertips, it’s a creative outlet that keeps me grounded. Tapping away at my keyboard unwinds the yarn ball of thoughts bouncing around my brain; it helps me articulate the uncertain, shed light on the darkness, make myself feel a little less afraid.

So here’s to vocalizing the full spectrum – the good, the bad, the funny, the scary, and of course the basic. And in the off-chance my absurd writing momentarily lifts someone’s spirits, then I’ve done my civic duty. Also, if I’ve offended anyone. Or even annoyed. I’ll take any reaction I can get; I’m not picky these days.

(Obviously had to end things on a sarcastic note. More entries coming next week. ❤)