Hey folks! I’m going to keep this short (no, really) since I don’t have a lot that’s new on my mind. The world outside continues to burn with righteous fury and disease. I’m doing my best to support the former, minimize the latter, and focus as hard as I can on the writing work I’ve already discussed at length for this summer in the meantime. It’s looking very likely that the final deadline for FFXIV patch 5.3 will launch sometime in late July or early August, and miles to go before I sleep and all that jazz.
A few of you may have noticed that I’ve deleted my personal Twitter account. I’ve said before that I try to use my social media presence to connect with my (few remaining) friends and family and stay updated on their lives while sharing my own. Unfortunately, I got to a point where I was logging on every few hours to see floods of news articles, work discussions, and general angry comments without much in the way of actual human connection. There was a point where trying to start my own, less charged discussions began to feel like a distraction at best, or hurtful and dismissive at worst.
We can all do more. We can all do better. Diverse voices must be heard and respected. The anger is well placed. I’m not saying we should stop being angry. Being polite has not worked.
And yet, as someone who does their best every day to live a life that discourages the suffering of others, and who writes stories in part to show others that a better world is always possible, I’m drowning in the absence of more than anger.
I miss the real, true voices of the friends I used to look forward to seeing. I miss the random chats about this and that. I miss being excited about sharing my work. I miss knowing I’m loved for who I am.
I miss people having the chance to be people, and not just statistics or votes.
I liked knowing what y’all had for dinner last Tuesday.
Until such time as I’m big enough as a writer to make a difference through my “platform,” the biggest difference I can make as a socially anxious stay-at-home white woman working a humanities job simply because I love it is to fight the battles that I see, write stories that fight the ones I can’t, and help those that can’t fight for themselves. Twitter can’t help me with that, nor can the floods of news articles, work discussions, and general angry comments. My weapons are words, donations, and support of minority-owned business, and I will use them to the best of my ability, regardless of what others do.
In the meantime, it’s privilege to talk about smutty fanfiction, food, games, or other random stuff instead of the sanctioned murder of innocent people who look, speak, or think like me. I don’t and will never pretend otherwise. But in order to help others, I have to preserve what is left of my heart. That means leaving the anger and the fear behind sometimes, and going home to the people I know I can trust, if they’re still out there. Anything else and I’ll be of no help to anyone anymore.
It’s frustrating because I know it all sounds like the sort of logic that many white, heterosexual, and cisgender folks have used for generations to stick their heads in the sand when it comes to the pain of others. Blind ignorance is not something I care to contribute to or condone for any reason. I’m not going to forget what goes on while I’m not watching. The anger must continue.
For those that don’t know me, perhaps there’s no way to justify any of this.
But I’m hopeful that those who do will understand that I’m doing everything I can, even if what you’re seeing isn’t a flood of news articles, work discussions, and general angry comments, and never will be.
And I hope that we can spend more time together in ways that matter to both of us, even if it’s only across a screen for now. Even if you have to come here to my blog to do it instead of Twitter.