-Can’t believe we’re back here, worrying about the Russians again.(Very much wish this was one of those “crowdpleasing” movies I would never pick but I have still seen a lot of because of licensed housing, or holiday outings or whatever where there was , like, a hockey championship instead and it could be at least somewhat amusing to have a President who’s a lovable doof who never manages to say the right thing….I don’t find that trait of his especially lovable, but people do, I guess. Maybe I liked it better before he was in charge for real instead of Master of The Somber Pause and Dude that We Imagined Washing A FireBird on the White House lawn.) As real life, it’s awful, even as a person who hasn’t felt that she had much of a future for a few years now. Benefits may be “dignified”, at least compared to all-out begging, but they’re hell on Sense of Possibility and Sense of Self as Valuable Citizen. Even if some of allegedly my fellow Americans didn’t treat it as what I used to buy ill-gotten hookers and blow and threaten to mess with it every time they got a chance at power(Even Dems, including Biden, have not been immune to this junk in the past.) So, yeah, even if I don’t feel old enough to pass a torch, and indeed, childless and not really connected enough to the next generation to know where the torch would even end up, most of my activism feels like fighting for someone else at this point. Sometimes it feels like I could look in a mirror and not see a reflection(Too bad that’s not my really cool and offhand way of coming out as a Vampire…Vampire Berner could also be kind of a funny family comedy, with an abled blonde instead of me in the lead anyway.) But I do feel sort of invisible, which ironically I used to really wish for when I was in junior high getting stared at…is there a heaven with a backlog and supply concerns from China just now getting to my twelve year old’s request? Plus side, maybe I could finally get the “Four inches of bod and a great birthday,” I’ve wanted since September 1985, and people might start looking again!
Which brings me to the title of this post, I guess, and my facing an unsettling, but more personal truth. From time to time, Paypal still thinks I agreed to send my Scammer Twin more money, because, hey, she asked.(I’ve been throwing the notices out, because I may be something of a soft-hearted sucker, but I didn’t plan to adopt this liar anyway, even if she hadn’t switched stories in midstream, as detailed in my previous post.(I’m sure that person does struggle, compared to most Americans, but it’s not right to lie about it even if you aren’t very good at it.) Why do people think I have money? At times, I’ve wondered if it’s something I wear or the way I write, but neither have been very special this week, as you can see.
It's hard not to tell on “her”. Not to try to fill “her’ with outraged guilt for trying to hustle a cripple. Not gonna do it, just upset that after activism, assertiveness training and who knows what else, part of me seems to always reach for the playground get-out-of-jail-free card that wasn’t. It’s humbling, but not in a sweet way.
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