I think I’m going to have to unfriend you soon, and it makes me sad. I wanted us to be friends. For 25 years, I’ve longed for a world where you & I could be friends. I don’t know much about you now, but for the sake of the person I so admired long ago, I’ve kept trying.
You should know that you are a major character in my backstory. The memories of my interactions with you all those years ago have continued to influence me, for good and for bad. The academic competition between you and me gave me a taste for intelligent companions and stimulating conversation. I discovered Twin Peaks, Metallica, and Saturday Night Live – in some of its best years ever – because of you, and I am forever thankful. I wanted to be more like you. Even the pain I endured at the hands of you and your friends forced me to dig deep and find a strength that I may not have ever found otherwise – though it took me years.
But now things are changing rapidly, and I don’t know if it’s safe for me to continue to pretend that you and I are friends. Right now, I have a certain amount of privilege keeping me safe, but I am preparing to step out from behind as much of that as I can, and fight for those who remain even more vulnerable than I am. I would like to think that when speaking out for the less fortunate becomes a crime, that you wouldn’t sell me out to the Gestapo – but the guy I knew as a kid would have, and I haven’t seen enough in the man who exists now to make me think that’s changed.
So, as much as it hurts me to give up on something I’ve wanted since I was sixteen, I think I have to finally end this superficial show of a friendship. I wish it could’ve been otherwise; I truly do.
Tonight I find myself researching the footprints of small vs. tiny houses,
and the size of California Redwoods.
21 years ago today, I was a bridesmaid for someone I loved very much – who soon afterward faded away, to be replaced by a stranger.
Today, the U.S. flag flies over internment camps – which we are politely asked to call “detention centers” – for kids that ICE soldiers forcibly took from their parents, for the mere act of showing up at our border to ask for help.
The bloated orange puppet in the Oval Office celebrates his birthday today as well.
June 14 can kiss my ass.
I dreamed about Cheo last night. I just remembered.
It was good. It was… comforting. It was friendly, and warm, and loving.
In the dream, he was still gone. But I got to say some things that I wish I could’ve said.
D-Rex has a hard time turning his brain off to go to sleep (he’s my kid!) So when he was little I used to tell him to lie down and imagine what he wanted to dream about. And I would give him suggestions involving animals doing silly things, and he always said “No!” to every suggestion.
But I still do it from time to time.
So tonight I told him to go to bed…
Me: …and dream about goats jumping on a trampoline.
Me: How about camels drinking root beer?
Me: Flamingos with hula hoops?
My husband: Would you stop? Now my dreams are gonna be all messed up!
Thirteen years ago, I made a choice. I chose the man who is now my husband. I do not regret that choice… but for thirteen years, I have not stopped resenting the fact that I thought I had to choose.
“All right then, I’ll GO to hell!”
— Mark Twain
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
is Tuesday the woman’s name???