Pre SDCC Ramblings
These past weeks have been horrific.
I’m honestly starting to need a fucking thesaurus to talk about tragedy and the dearth of humanity in the world. Between the fucking police murdering people, the Black people continuing to be preyed upon by law enforcement and the flood of white people making up reasons to justify that shit, I’m just wiped out.
And, amidst all this bullshit, I’m having the best year ever. I can’t even reconcile the two things. I’m writing, building an audience, attending conventions I’ve never attended before, public speaking…
I’ve never felt so productive and happy. And then I look at the country…then I look at what’s going on in the world. I have always been aware of inequities, but the widespread injustice that is slapping everyone in the face…and people still deny it.
Things are going to continue to get rough and the spin-doctors are going to continue to use it as a way to suppress, oppress, and depress people. They will continue to use it to justify excessive force, curfews, illegal arrests, police violence, martial law…
The violence in this country is coming to a head and it’s going to get bad.
I have mixed feelings about it all. Like, I love the information sharing. I love the networks available. I love hearing other Black voices speak out against racism in this country.
Unfortunately the same networks are available to the racists, in addition to the media they already control, which is all of it and what that means is that everybody is mobilizing and it is both beautiful and terrifying.
And me? I’m writing, reading, and trying to motivate myself to work on my costume.
It’s a struggle. I don’t want to work on it right now. I’m struggling to keep hope for this country. I’m struggling to figure out if I’m going to survive.
I’m scared all the time. Depressed all the time. Worried all the time…
I have a convention this week, Comic-Con, a convention I’ve always wanted to attend. I’m both excited and scared. Excited because it’s such a huge convention. Scared because I don’t feel safe doing anything.
This is my emotional state – wild fluctuations from joy to sorrow to fear to numbness. Then it starts all over again.
It’s hard to function. Hard to focus. Hard to manage myself.
But I’ll cycle through the stages of my abusive relationship with America once again and continue to fruitless hope it changes.