Gosh, I love International Women’s Day. As far as totally made up, mostly uncelebrated holidays go, this is my favorite. Right next to Donut Day and National Puppy Day. But as with puppies and donuts, Women’s Day is my favorite because more people should freaking better appreciate what it is to be a woman! Shout it from the rooftops, ladies, because we deserve to be celebrated for merely agreeing to exist in this world because holy hell did we draw the short stick.
So I’ve been feeling sort of down and out about humanity in general lately. Not to be too depressing, but there’s just this sense of overwhelming disappointment in a lot of ways–as I look at politics, culture, environment, religion, humanity in general. Everyone thinks they’re so right about everything all the time and no one stops to listen to one another. Blame #selfie culture, blame the internet, blame Obama, I don’t know. But we’re all a bunch of egoists at heart.
I should know. I keep a blog detailing all of my self-obsessed thoughts.
I have been in denial for about a year now that someone who looks like an oompa loompa found Alice in Wonderland’s magical “eat me” cookie and went to town on it could actually be president. Honestly, I thought it was a joke. Like lol the reality tv star? Doesn’t he know how democracy works?
Well, jokes on me. Because fast forward to today where Trump actually jumps in polls and I’m just the personification of the shocked-face emoji. Because how? HOW, AMERICA?
I’m embarrassed to admit it, but when news broke of Alton Sterling being shot and killed by police officers in Baton Rouge, Louisiana on Tuesday, I thought “Ugh, those damn cops.” …and I moved on. It was just another story, another failing, another embarrassing blight on America’s already horribly blotted history. There was a scratch, an itch of irritance that this keeps happening. But then I moved easily along, scrolling past enraged tweets to like photos from Taylor Swift’s Fourth of July or that new Buzzfeed video about dog owners.
So JK Rowling changed my life. That much is a fact. I am part of the #HarryPotterGen. It’s, like, the one generational marker I care about. I don’t have school spirit (I don’t even know how to say alma mater) but I do bleed blue for Hogwarts. Or green, rather, as I am a Slytherin.
So I’m, like, really glad about the conversation revolving around the Stanford Victim (who is basically the bravest person I’ve never met) and the Stanford Rapist (who, let’s be clear, is in fact a rapist). But I’m also really unhappy with the amount of stupid that has been brought to the surface.