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2017 Doesn't Seem So Bad Anymore: Motorcycle accidents, keyboard activism and my trip to the White House.
It's not exactly news that some things didn't turn out the way we had planned in 2016. All of us started the year with an almost joyful spirit, as if for some reason we were confident of the good that would happen in the coming year. And we were wrong about some things. And we're still mourning, some of us.
I imagine that you and your friends had some hopes dashed as well, if the collective thoughts of Twitter are any indication. It remember showing up to work the day after the election--an office full of determined activists suddenly silenced, if only briefly. We just weren't sure what happened next. Aleppo's tragic story lingered in the background of every social media trip I've taken this year, blood-soaked children orphaned and claiming the headlines consistently, almost as if they knew America wasn't eager to actually do something. But eventually our fingers tired from the keyboard's solidarity, and we moved on to the latest Tasty recipe. Syria is a world away. What can we do? We saw our legends die, far-off figures who fantastically seemed as if they lived next door. They had offered up words to remind us that we're not the only ones who are lonely, tired, or dying, and honestly, I'm not sure if we'll ever realize the impact that they made on our lives, or even how much time we spent alone with them. At least not until that moment when we pull their names up on Spotify or Netflix because we desperately need to see them again.
I've always thought myself as an optimist, but in a year that seemingly fought to quell any proactive thoughts I might've had, it's been almost exhausting to pretend as though I was still looking forward to what the future had to offer. Outside of my immediate life-is-good bubble, it was as if the world was determined to prove my optimism unrealistic.
Turns out my cynicism isn't unfounded, considering there's no reason to believe that suddenly humans will treat each other better. America isn't what it was, nor is it what we hope it to be. ...
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[Note: This article published with permission of the Black Sheep Agency.]