Day 13: 30 Days of Words
I will not use this space to argue with myself about two weird e-occurrences this week. One, much more involved than the other...but I'm going to give you all a piece of life advice:
If you have someone blocked/prefer to ignore them on social media, do not check their LinkedIn while you are logged on. I see you.
If you have someone blocked/prefer to ignore them on social media, do not check their LinkedIn while you are logged on. I see you.
I also won't use this space to opine about politics. Although full of political opinions and armed with an advanced history degree, research skills, and fiery passion- I really have no desire to argue with people from the dregs of the internet.
That said, I read a great analogy of how it feels to follow our current administration... "It's like being in a cab with a horrible taxi driver."
When I was a teenager, I was on a trip to China. At one point, some folks I was with and I hopped into a cab. Traffic laws in China are...lax (at least they were in 2004-ish, when I was there). The driver sped over medians, charging headlong into oncoming traffic, hit the sidewalk, slammed on his breaks, cut people off. All in all, it was a terrifying ride.
And yet, I was stuck. The driver was going to do what he was going to do to get his fare, not caring if what he did was dangerous or illegal. I was stuck. We didn't speak the same language. I said there, white knuckled, gripping the seat until we arrived. It's pretty much how I feel every morning, waking up to my NYT push notifications and reading the news.
I'm just hanging on, white-knuckled, screaming. Granted, I have much more agency this time.
That said, I read a great analogy of how it feels to follow our current administration... "It's like being in a cab with a horrible taxi driver."
When I was a teenager, I was on a trip to China. At one point, some folks I was with and I hopped into a cab. Traffic laws in China are...lax (at least they were in 2004-ish, when I was there). The driver sped over medians, charging headlong into oncoming traffic, hit the sidewalk, slammed on his breaks, cut people off. All in all, it was a terrifying ride.
And yet, I was stuck. The driver was going to do what he was going to do to get his fare, not caring if what he did was dangerous or illegal. I was stuck. We didn't speak the same language. I said there, white knuckled, gripping the seat until we arrived. It's pretty much how I feel every morning, waking up to my NYT push notifications and reading the news.
I'm just hanging on, white-knuckled, screaming. Granted, I have much more agency this time.
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