Brilliant … But Bouncy

None Of It Matters.

Last night, in the midst of being unable to sleep thinking, What can I do? What can I do? What can I do?

The questions keep me awake: What can I do? How can I help save the world? Save the country at least? Save one person, maybe, from being shot? I have no answers to these questions. At first, I was flailing, asking everyone who seemed to know things: Robert Reich, Heather Cox Richardson, my friend George. Everyone just kept saying: FIGHT! Call your representatives!

But I live in Maryland. My representatives are already doing what I want them to do. They are scrambling like heck to save democracy – well, Democracy, with a capital D. They are doing everything in their powers to help, and they are really the only people who can help. They are, unfortunately, doing it by the book. They’re following the law, which takes too long, which can’t keep up. They’re asking the courts for help with every issue while our country’s dictator is stomping through the jungle crushing trees, screaming about the blood of an Englishman.

So I put up a post on Facebook. Somehow I expected at least one person from Ohio to say, “No, this isn’t what I wanted. You were right.” But nobody stepped forward, except those who didn’t vote for the orange idiot. They are all wondering what to do, too.

So my post on Facebook was an attempt to do something. I have friends who will post anything, all the time, about politics – which is impossible to follow. I stick to the facts, and occasionally like those posts that they put on Facebook. Because it’s something I can do.

Then, just last night I realized: Facebook doesn’t matter. What I read doesn’t matter. What I learn doesn’t matter. None of it matters if I don’t take some kind of action.

And I thought, then, what kind of action can I take, a lowly stay-at-home old lady, to change the world? I am still reeling from Renee Good’s execution by a guy who didn’t like her, didn’t like women, didn’t like lesbians, didn’t like being made a fool so much that he had to shoot her rather than do his job.

I think about the dog in the backseat, the one that could have been my dog. My dog, Loki, would have been barking, afraid, knowing that there was a problem. My dog would have been shot right along with me. Chia would have been cowering in the backseat, afraid to move. Then she would have been traumatized for life by losing her beloved best friends, the only two creatures she’d ever been able to trust.

What kind of action can I take? I can write about this. I can write and keep this blog going and if nobody ever reads it, that’s okay with me. Because writing is healing for me. And maybe in the writing I will come up with some ideas that will help. Maybe writing will keep me from losing my mind, and maybe it will connect me with other like-minded individuals who are willing to go out in their cars with their dogs and get shot if it means helping to save the world.

I don’t need to follow a word count. I don’t need to write every day. I don’t need to let anyone know that I am publishing this blog again because really, nobody cares what I think. Only I care – and I need to do something. This is all I know how to do.

For now, that’s all I know.