The culture we find ourselves in

In the days since November 9th I've found myself succumbing to the thoughts of despair I never thought I'd succumb to prior to November 8th. I've journaled some, but my writing has become so pessimistic that it's difficult to re-read even in editing. I want to say something smart. But the truth is, our country isn't interested in intellectual stuff. Do you know how many people watch The Bachelor? Too many to count. I used to watch it myself, and then one day I realized how shallow and ridiculous the show was and how into it I was getting. I wanted to watch it to have some pop cultural thing for my sister and I to talk about on our weekly phone calls. I was living in DC and she in Georgia, and I felt like our relationship was falling by the wayside, and I wanted something to have in common with her. So I started watching The Bachelorette, because I knew she watched it, based on her passionate tweets. I wanted us to be close. When she started reading Moby Dick I was thrilled to have something more in my wheelhouse. I had never read it. When I started reading it I was just as bored as when I tried to pick it up in high school and my mind wandered to guess what, The Bachelorette. 

Our culture is past Moby Dick. We are not in a place to sit down and read a long-ass book about a whale anymore. Maybe "we" as a collective never were. The culture we find ourselves in is uninterested unless it's fast, cheap and we can do it while staring into our screens. I count myself in as one of the zombies. We've become desensitized to what's going on beyond us. Why would we spend half a year slogging through the feats of a captain fighting a whale when we can go on Instagram to get more likes? Now we've become caught up with how many followers we have and how much content we're producing and how many likes a selfie gets as opposed to a landscape scene. We are obsessed with attention of the reality show sort. We want it to last but only from week to week so we can forget what embarrassing event happened on last week's episode. There's more drama to come. Stay tuned. I spent the two weeks prior to Nov 8 reading up on how to restructure a blog and how to post content on Instagram to gain a greater following. I used to only care about how true the writing was. But now I know it's about what gets read, and by whom. Great if my high school teacher, whose approval I still find myself seeking, reads it. Greater still if my mom reads it and texts me about it. But you hit the jackpot when it gets tweeted by someone you've never heard of but is trending on Twitter. It's not about captain Ahab anymore and perhaps it never was. We live in the land of Kardashians and Trumps. Until Justin Bieber subscribes to a paper edition of The New York Times, not a lot of millenials are going to. But then he has to post a selfie of himself reading the Times with a Starbucks drink of the minute  in order for it to work. And even then, I'm sure some blogger would write a piece of snark, crying that the Times has now become bastardized. We have become watered down. Our culture of advertisements, media and marketing has to be talked into something. We don't make decisions of our own accord anymore.  This shouldn't come as a shock to anyone. Just look at the now defunct circus of our most recent election. Clowns, elephants, donkeys and a pile of shit to clean up. Now we watch as the clown car keeps filling up with our nation's most colorful mimes. The trouble with these mimes is that they talk. He promised to drain the swamp but instead he's filling the tent. That's our White House, by the way. The newest rendition of Cirque du Soleil: Washington Style. Last week a client came in looking for red silken tablecloths that were made in China for her victory party. I would've assisted her but I was caught up bubble-wrapping the 6 Baccarat crystal Champagne glasses for her comrade. It would have been a shame for them to shatter. 

Notes on an election

I have been meaning to write this but couldn't find the words. I was angry and processing. I'm still processing but no longer as angry. I'm angry but it's a different kind. Like not raging, but not calm. At all. I'm more at the righteous anger the Bible talks about. (Is that even a stage?) I think Jesus even had some- righteous anger. I had to look up the five stages of grief tonight and realized the one I'm on isn't even on the list. I'm numb again. I go through phases. A friend is off Facebook but on Instagram liking things. A lot of friends left fb. I didn't. I need to know it's there. Facebook is a little crutch for me. I mostly like it now that I've unfriended around 100 people. Someone tried to guilt me about that and it worked and then I got pissed off and unfriended him too. These people aren't even people I see, ever. It had been over 15 years since I'd had a conversation with him, online or otherwise. But he popped onto my wall to make a snarky comment after I'd poured my heart out in a post. And I just don't have time for that shit. And then he became patronizing and condescending. To the point that I stopped engaging. I thought I was overreacting like I've been told (by men) I do, but I had my mom read it and she confirmed the condescension. I wish I could be more like one of those people who says "what a dick" and leave the situation right there. But I keep thinking about it. What made him say such a shitty thing? I'm a nice person. He's a dick. I can say it and not feel bad. It's the truth. My Christian upbringing has me trying to be all love and light and what would Christ do and that's just hard right now. It's hard always, but harder now. This election absolutely sucked, and continues to suck. And I'm 33 not feeling bad about saying "suck" even though every time I say it in the context of something being supremely bad, instead of someone making the inhaling of breath act, I think of a family member when I was around 15 about it meaning "sucks penis" and how vulgar it sounded. To this day anytime I hear or think the word, that's what my mind goes to. And I'm 33.

This election was awful, and I protested and for that night I felt on fire. It hasn't worn off, but it's not as strongly nihilistic. I felt like an anarchist carrying a sign someone else let me hold, screaming "love trumps hate!" and "not my president!" and other slogans until my voice was coarse. But I'm not one. I protest and I sign petitions and I post on Instagram and I've even been reading up on law school programs for public interest lawyer types. 

None of it feels like enough. I do it, but it's not enough. How much solidarity am I even really capable of showing? I'm straight, white, blonde, leggy, blue-eyed, professes to be Christian, and educated. What the hell can I show up for? What right do I have? I'm the face of privilege. The first time I read about the safety pin movement, I rifled through my box of nails and started pinning one on. Someone I respect posted an article mocking the movement and I felt shitty again for trying to show solidarity in my little, inconsequential way. I wore a safety pin on my shirt for 3 days in a row and felt like I was actually making a difference. I'm a recovering sarcastic cynic who did not grow up that way, but life got a hold of me and down that road I went. But I've been trying to tap into my empathy again, and watching cynicism fall by the wayside is not easy. I like holding onto it. It's another crutch. If I'm cynical I don't have to be true to myself and my emotions. I won't be mocked because the entire world is cynical. Read Slate and Medium for a few minutes. Nobody responds to empathy. It's not "in." It's too sheltered and innocent. Adults don't write about stuff like that. They're grown-ups. Well I'm going to try to write more true to self. And hopefully it'll reach someone where they are. Maybe I can make some kind of difference that way. 

Another Move!

I am overjoyed to announce that in June of this year I made the move back to one of my homelands, Florida! I currently reside in Lakeland, Florida, the same town as my sister and her husband and NEW BABY. With the birth of Lailah Faye, I felt like God hammered (lightly. with one of those plastic blow-up hammers) into my head that I needed to up and move. So I did! Actually, my whole family did. But for the first time in over three years, I'm living on my own,  in my own apartment, in sort of my own town. 15 minutes away from my sister. And I have never felt so blessed. What's more, I've been cooking more. Just about every night. With the move back to Florida, where I spent high school and some college years, I feel like my old self is back. I feel like a lifelong issue with depression is starting to lift. And after years of putting cooking on the back burner (no pun intended), I am happy to be back in the kitchen. I haven't blogged in so long, because I feel like I wasn't sure how to tap into my voice. But I have SO much to write! And SO many recipes to try. And life is improving for me. And I couldn't be more thankful. It's as though the dark fog has lifted, and there is light again. So, I am blogging again. I cannot promise any kind of routine or regularity, because this IS me we're talking about, but I can vow to try. :)

Oh! And I changed the name back to the blog's original name, And Be Merry. I have decided to stick with Blogger instead of other hosts, because I'm more content-driven than tech-driven. I tried Wordpress but I honestly did not even know what I was doing. I'm not that into techie stuff. I AM into writing and cooking. And I want to cook and write as much as I can, for as long as I can. I started this blog in college and had high hopes of becoming a food blogger/food and restaurant critic. I won't go into EVERYTHING that's happened over the past 8 years or so, but being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease sure put a pause- stop- rather, on my hopes and dreams.

But God has brought me to the point, with tons of prayer, a new scene and wonderful family and friends, to the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. And how grateful am I!

For so many years I felt like I was willingly wandering in the wilderness (English major- Can't stop won't stop the weird alliteration), and just about a month ago I realized that my faith informs everything I do, that I want, CRAVE, my relationship with Christ, and that it is the very thing I've been searching for for so many years. I'm grateful for the journey, but my how much better it is with my Savior. I am hoping to stay strong, steadfast, and sincere in my approach back to God. And I am overwhelmed by this newfound desire and PASSION to cling to Him and the Scriptures. It feels like my 16 year old self is back, smiling, saying "welcome back, I've missed you."

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." -Zephaniah 3:17

Binge eating weekend- halp.me.

Ok so I'm going to try a little activity.

Healthy food. Let's talk about it. My bod hurts. My moods, well, swing. And lotssssss of happy-sounding peeps on Instagram post ridiculous pictures. Stuff like raw cashews mashed up and stuffed into dates, with a little antibiotic free whipped maple cream on top. 

I just had a burger. And a huge one, at that. And now I feel like one of the pot bellied pigs at a local farm whose picture I just favorited. On Instagram. I spend way too much of my life on Instagram. Ok!

Massively healthy eating in 2016. Prob not a big deal. Prob not gonna happen. But I didn't think I'd get a car in 2016. Or a passport. But plans change.