Coming up on the fifth anniversary of our ongoing pandemic. I’m feeling extra down about it this year. There’s all the regular, complex feelings around people going “back to normal” but now with the added bonus of fash trying to decimate our already-weak public health. It all just feels so bleak.
I’m really going back to my hippie roots this year.
And it’s so funny to me because my parents pretty much went on the usual trajectory that many of their cohort did…starting out in the 🌼 “flower power” ☮️ 1960s California beach subculture and ending up—well let’s just say quite on the opposite side of things. (My dad at least…hard to say where my birth mom would be now as she died 20 years ago…)
Whereas I had a corporate jobby-job and owned my own home in my early 20s (the late aughts), and now I have downsized radically (glory be to #minimalism!) and am quite ready to tear down the whole fucking establishment and join a commune or something. 😂
I don’t know what my Young Evangelical Republican self would have thought of his older self these two decades later, but I can tell you one thing: I was actually pretty damn miserable back then on a regular basis, and now? The world may have gone to shit but way down deep in my bones…I have never felt happier. 😌
P.S. Eat the rich.