We the People: Pwned?

Political bottom.

I think I might’ve hit it. But I’m not sure whether to lie here and scream, ROPBLMAO, or jump up and feel the ground under my feet and start again.

That great, weird, silly, grand orange place has motivated my activism, educated me, strengthened and inspired me and also annoyed and frustrated me, disillusioned me, and exasperated me. The whole symphony of emotion has here been played. We’ve argued and laughed and cried there. Whatever the case may be–I’ve found community there and here: safe harbors in the turbulent waters of our times.

But now, I really gotta ask y’all: “We the People” — have we been pwned? What if the noble experiment is but a laughable fantasy?

I’m ambivalent, to be honest. I’ve operated according to a progressive 1% doctrine–even if there’s only 1% chance that electing Democrats truly advances the progressive cause, then it’s worth it to work our asses off. And this cycle, I still intend to canvass and donate and all that jazz.

But … but … but … it’s hard not to feel sometimes like we’re just operating in a fantasy of political possibility that is so far disconnected from what is — that it’s all got to be a cosmic joke or just a big military-industrial-complex FU.

I believe in the possibility of progressive change/I don’t believe in the possibility of progressive change. I alternate back and forth. And sometimes I feel like I can honestly say both at once.

I want to always be able to sing this:

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we’re all OK
And not to worry ’cause worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these
I won’t be made useless
I won’t be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear
My hands are small, I know
But they’re not yours, they are my own
But they’re not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken

“Hands”
Jewel

but lotsa times I feel more like this. Metaphorically only, people. I’m not violent or suicidal. But this song could be an anthem of last-stop frustration:

Nothing seems to kill me no matter how hard I try
Nothing is closing my eyes
Nothing can beat me down for your pain or delight
And nothing seems to break me
No matter how hard I fall nothing can break me at all
Not one for giving up though not invincible I know

Want to make it understood
Wanting though I never would
Trying though I know its wrong
Blowing it to hell and gone
Wishing though I never could
Blow up the outside world

“Blow Up the Outside World”
Soundgarden

The world is beautiful. The world is sick. We can save it. We can save ourselves and each other.

Or can we?

I think so. I think so. I think so. Or …

Well.

In the end only kindness matters.