I kind of want to fight every fight right now.
unsurprisingly, me also. Bring it.
A woman called in an order today at work and after checking with people who knew more I made the comment "you can call her and let her know we can get her tomorrow". Normally that would be the type of comment I would be all over for the dbl entendre. But today when my male co-worker chuckled and repeated, "we can get her" - I just yelled - Yep, this is Trump's America, that's how it goes now. and everyone shut the hell up. I then yelled it would be a while before I had any sense of humor, so get used to it.,
"You voted for Trump! Damn right I'm thinking I'm smarter/better than you right now!"
Pretty much my feelings right now. But from what I can tell, based on the, um, screaming match I got into with one of my brothers on FB yesterday, is that people in quote-unquote flyover country feel like the elites of the country aren't listening to them, so they chose the ultimate outsider. And they may have a point about not being listened to...but to think Trump will help is stupid. If anything, what this country needs is a new New Deal, with infrastructure building and education to replace those mining and manufacturing jobs that just aren't. coming. back. But there's no political will in either party for that.
I was more functional at work today than yesterday. It helps that all of us, at least on my immediate team, feel the same way about the election--such divisions as we had were Bernie vs. Hillary back in the primary. They all thought it was the coolest thing ever that I got retweeted by Wil Wheaton...
I'm still in I'ma Fight This mode. Anger tends to be my default favorite stage of grief, so I'm going to ride that anger and actually commit to activism before my rage high wears off and my introversion takes over again.
And this isn't exactly activism, but I'm about to head out to a NaNoWriMo write-in to recommit myself to being a storyteller. (I'd written 13,600 words through Monday, and nothing since.) Part of me is like, "Who cares about your little fantasy novel? The fate of the world is at stake." But then I remember the first places Dylan and I went to try to express and push back at our despair Tuesday night was music--he played One Last Time, while I went for the Casablanca La Marseillaise scene. Art is part of the fight.
I'm ... this isn't the world I want.
eta: Politics too but I was mourning Cohen.
RIP Leonard Cohen
Well, shit. I was listening to his latest when I read the news. What an awful year.
I'm still marinating in my words. Doesn't help that work is so crazy (clusterfuck this morning, then a fascinating hour interviewing a job applicant I think is a Mary sue in the best way ever, like tv show of her life and she was downplaying it, then 5 hours in a meeting with isilon contractors that seriously bent my brain with info while simultaneously discovering another clusterfuck and figuring out how to resolve it. Tomorrow. And meeting, kinda, out new data science mission head) that I emerge feeling hungovermaybestilldrunk from it.
Which is a blessing in some ways. But my decompress swim is this mad jumble and I can't get a thread or cohere an idea and, boy that makes me consistently fast and no less riding the anxiety train and I can't figure out what to do next and can't execute.
So I think I need more time. Or alcohol.
And my dad is genuinely depressed cause of the election, and that worries me.
I really need to build that wall around Sondheim.
