I can’t remember it now, but it was what I wanted to say. Maybe it will come back.
There was a thing about self-sufficiency and feeling just fine, in my room at night, alone, with some red wine (cheap bordeaux) and staring at the internet, occasionally striking the keys of my laptop, and now and then feeling very good, inside, indeed. The other thing, the contrasting thing, is knowing that if I do this again tomorrow that I will feel quite bad about it: restlessness.
I still believe in my generation. The Bill & Ted generation, the Waynes World generation. I still think that we’re going to figure out a way for everyone to be excellent to each other. I went to see a play (13) in which a charismatic messiah figure tries to change society for the better as it goes into a weird decay, I see what the writer maybe wanted but I don’t think he got there. I went to see Uninvited Guests’ Make Better Please. It feels like we’re trying to figure out what will work. The Occupy London movement went out in the streets for May Day with the slogan, ‘Love, breathe, hope, create, occupy’. What will work better than marches and demonstrations?
Is there a way to channel the frustrations and anger that’s building up into something positive and beautiful? Can we exorcise our tweenies angst? Can we make better please?
Ages ago a friend said that the music he makes was to please himself, and the art he makes was to please other people (I think it’s that way round). I started being public about writing, but it’s strange. Sometimes I’m just practising, and other times I’m trying to express something that readers might like, and might make them feel better.
I don’t understand my male friends at all. When we hang out and I’m the only girl there, an honorary Lad, it’s kind of an honour to be allowed to see them behave as they do without women or girls around. Maybe they still temper it for me, or maybe they are truly very adorable dorks.
I definitely think society is getting better, but I wish it would improve faster. People in the past: the suffragettes who were labelled as terrorists so that today I can be a recognised citizen although I am a woman; the people who died building the railroad across America which contributed to that continent being able to become a nation; the people who died trying to make white people acknowledge that they are people too and HAVE rights and should be respected, despite what might be said about their skin colour and enslaved history; the people who feel a sudden kinship and stand up to their country’s army and overthrow their own government; and more gentle: the people who write books for children that encourage them to be open, honest, loving humans; the people who have an idea for helping others, and then who do that idea. They’re so inspiring. We owe the people who came before us everything that we enjoy now, but they don’t get to see what they achieved. I want to go back in time and say thanks so much. They probably wouldn’t appreciate it that much, because really it would be much better if they could see the change in their own lives, and didn’t have to live through so much crap and die for something that they don’t know for sure will even happen.