I remember my seven-year-old self spending a not-inconsiderable amount of time seriously preoccupied with the end of the world. No small wonder considering the cultural stew I was marinated in: Take one part of the Technicolor hell and brimstone served up down at the Church of Christ, mix well with the leftovers from processing the death of my First-Ever President (first I was aware of anyway) shot dead right there in Texas, add one dash of precocious cynicism, another of paralyzing fear, both products of the monthly duck and cover drills in my first grade classroom. Shake well and serve. Thankfully, it was a phase that passed, though my adult self spent more time than I wanted revisiting it after September 11, the Iraq Invasion, and Katrina.
Given the backstory, it’s been odd in this, our current uncertain moment of upheaval and change, that lately I’ve felt weirdly calm, a kind of strange pragmatic curiosity. At least more than anything else, more than any one other state I can identify or describe. It could just be I’m tired from working as much as I have the past few months, tired after the election, and tired after eight long-ass years of Life Under Chimpocracy. I know intellectually there’s still plenty to push back against, but actually witnessing the pillagers sail off into the sunset is kinda surreal.
As I post this, it’s a mighty quiet New Year’s Eve here at Casa Virgo. I’m not sure where we’re headed but I couldn’t ask for better company than all ya’ll.
Happy New Year.