I quit the internet and stopped blogging, but I'm having feelings and writing has always been my way of expressing them.
Right now, thousands of people are out in the streets in Oakland, expressing their feelings about the Trump election and I'm reminded about Obama night 8 years ago. We were so happy- we danced in the streets. It was the most wonderful, safe, communal feeling- shared elation and pride in our country finally getting something right. A black president. A turning point. One of the most amazing moments of my life. I wished my grandma had been there to see it, but was so glad I was there.
Now people are in the streets of Oakland again- burning things, shouting things and generally expressing feelings of grief, terror, sorrow, anger. I don't want to go down there. I don't know what being there would do for me, but clearly it's cathartic for some. I feel lost and terrified: all of a sudden nuclear war seems real again- that existential threat of annihilation. Hatred has triumphed over inclusion. The wall is back.
I can't believe it's been eight years since we were dancing in the street, passing celebratory glasses around with strangers. I'm gonna tip a 40 to my memories, and keep drinking.