An Inigo Montoya Moment
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I want:
To dress up and wear makeup and be around other people.
To smoosh my nieces and nephews with hugs.
To get in the car and drive somewhere far away, mindlessly stopping at rest stops along the way.
To browse in shops, wander in the grocery store.
To sit inside a crowded restaurant.
To help the kids in my workshops glue their zines together.
To ride a train full of people.
To have a party with all the friends and relatives that I haven’t seen in years, with a bluegrass band on the porch and a yard full of food and cornhole.
To stop thinking I have COVID every time I cough.
To stop feeling traumatized by the news every single day.
To stop staring at the train wreck that is social media until all hours of the night.
To stop having bad dreams and not being able to relax the constant tension in my body.
Mental health care for all.
To share an understanding of trauma and its effects so that we can stop perpetuating the traumatized mindset that leads to a country full of assclowns who would rather die than take care of each other.
To let RBG rest in peace knowing her legacy will not be lost.
November 3 to pass without violence because there’s still hope for actual freedom and democracy.
To feel like someone is looking out for this country.
To be proud of my country.
Things to change for the better.
This country, this world, to suck it up and start taking care of each other and this planet.
To stop feeling like it’s so impossible to do the right thing.
To eat a whole cake without getting fat.
Another kitten. And a puppy. And some chickens.
Black and brown and immigrant and LGBTQIA people to feel safe and protected doing all of the above.
To scream myself raw at the sexist racist old white men in charge: “You do not define this country anymore. Your day is over. I’m sick of your abuse of power. I’m sick of parsing my words, my very existence, in consideration of your needs and standards. Go away you irrelevant, destructive turds.”
I WANT MY (LIFE) BACK YOU SON OF A BITCH.