I guess I have this worry and it’s that I’m not being a Good Citizen¹when I distance myself from social issues. There is a lot of stuff in the news at the moment, most of it sad and bewildering and horrifying - the police brutality in Ferguson is dominating my social media feeds, but so is Palestine and Ebola and there’s just so much, you know? We live on a planet where a little over a decade ago, involving yourself in the world’s problems was something you could only do when you tuned into the nightly news; now, it’s everywhere.

And the feeling is: if I’m not speaking out against injustice - if that isn’t part of what some people would probably call my “personal brand” - does that make me a bad person? Further than that, though - if I’m not allocating part of my emotional energy toward current events, am I a terrible human being? I don’t know. It’s something I struggle with. I have seen enough to know that outrage as an undirected force is of little use; even when it’s focused, it depends on the target and the topic when it comes to realising change. Rodney King died a couple of years ago, and I can’t help but feel that despite the national media attention that his beating received, nothing has really changed; likewise, on Twitter, I’m seeing a lot of anger and upset but no real change from the people in power.

All of this is to say: I’m obviously not upset or angry at the people who are using the internet to share their experiences at the hands of a corrupt police force, or the IDF, or any number of terrible organisations who abuse their power; there’s catharsis in sharing.

I’m really talking about something altogether more selfish, though - if there’s nothing that I, a white British bisexual with a decent understanding of the shitty way that people in power tend to operate, can do, is there anything to be gained by involving myself in the discussion around the terrible stuff that happens to people?

I don’t know. There are no easy answers here. There are terrible things, and there are a lot of people talking about terrible things, and I have the sort of social circle where there’s no-one to challenge as far as narratives on those terrible things go. All of this is a work in progress.

I recorded a couple of preliminary takes of the first part of the Dystopolis audiobook tonight. I’m happy with how my voice sounds, apprehensive about the variety of voices I’m going to be attempting, and excited to see who (if anyone) downloads it. I also deleted tonight’s takes, because I’m too drunk to really enunciate properly. I’ll recite a whole paragraph with perfect clarity, and then flub a simple word like “what” or “the”. I’ve established that my microphone works, though. We can move from there. My microphone is tiny, but powerful. There’s something lewd in there.

I’m moving things forward, as far as Life goes - I’ll officially own a car soon thanks to the generosity and good fortune of Arden’s grandparents, and once I get my license I’ll be able to consider jobs that are further away. I’m still working behind the meat counter at the local supermarket, and it’s fine - there are certainly worse jobs to have, and the people I work with are helping to cement my status as someone who lives and works in America, rather than just the inhabitant of some dreamlike existence in a house in the suburbs of southern Massachusetts.

It’s a weird thing to figure out. When I left, I was locked in the middle of growing up - I was paying a quarterly of my (small) monthly income to my parents as rent, working my first real job part-time, and failing to focus on my career because I knew I was moving. Now, there are other obstacles in the way, but soon they’ll be cleared - and with that comes the fear that I might not be big enough to deal with the things life throws at you. When push comes to shove, I think I’ll be alright, but for now, there are a bunch of question marks to deconstruct.

I’ve been watching Twin Peaks. I almost don’t want to write about it, other than to say that it’s affecting me in a way that no other television show has - part of that reluctance comes from the fact that Elizabeth Cantwell wrote something excellent on the topic fairly recently. I love the extended focus on everything, though - how Lynch’s sensibility forces you to take in every shot past the point where other showrunners would usually leave off. I want to hike through the impossible contours of Ray Wise’s face. I have an enduring crush on Donna that refuses to go away.

Altogether, I’m doing better than I’ve been doing in years, while recognising that there is always room for improvement.

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¹Yes, I know I need to back off with the capitalisation for the sake of emphasis. It’s a crutch. Sorry.