And Then

Like a bluebird
Into the lion's den, into the lion's den
I learned a new word
Words that will never end, words that will never end

And then (and then)
Is this the end? (is this the end?)
Now I trust in my new friend
-Miracle Legion, "And Then" (1988)

Yesterday, in a particular moment of bleakness, I suggested to a dear friend that I was toying once again with the idea of hanging up writing.

Things...do not look great right now. I don't think I need to dive into the particulars. You can read the news, while we still can, or will. What I can do, in this moment, to make sense of it, is take stock. A year ago this month, I was let go from a job I loved. It was a great use of my natural skills; more importantly, it was a chance to keep my bills paid and my family housed. We are privileged to live somewhere that, while expensive, is far under market value, thanks to the luck of our city's affordable housing lottery.

Most importantly, there is room for our family. In February, my wife and I became parents to twins. If you've met them, you know how amazing they are. Since then, I've learned how to take care of not one but two infant girls, trying my best to fight my own anxieties and frustrations - succeeding and failing in various ways, as all parents do. I sometimes joke I have it easy: I feel more naturally able to empower a young girl against the cruelties of the world, as opposed to the theoretical fear that a son would watch the wrong YouTube video and start asking about why are there so many women in Star Wars.

It has, of course, not been easy. I've had no parental leave - I've been lucky to string along a few consistent freelance and part-time gigs, plus the occasional windfall. Nothing covers my monthly bills in full. An additional privilege - the modest savings from being an heir to a government employee - have kept me as close to paycheck-to-paycheck as can be. I've applied to about 200 jobs, cultivated my network of allies - since July, all while maintaining the girls' livelihoods as my wife returned to work. Nothing has shifted quite yet, and there's a real fear that a job as unique as "writing" may not have the value it once did. Like most writers, there is little I do quite as well, and the thought of having to start over is still chilling.

But the fact is, a more favorable election outcome would not have shifted any of these worries either, beyond a temporary sense of vague relief. I am privileged to say this, too, a white man in a blue state that codified abortion rights into our constitution. The relief passes either way, though. I abhor and condemn the daily injustices by moneyed morons and the neighbors they've whipped up into agreement against our most vulnerable citizenry. The constant barrage of xenophobia and needless foreign wars and strain on our planet's unsteady environment is a lot - often too much - to think about. So, too, is the truth that, among all the interference good hearts have to run in the next few years, one piece of the puzzle is convincing those who will still listen that no, decaying men like Donald Trump and J.D. Vance don't have your best interest in...not heart, not mind, just...themselves, I guess. We have to get people to listen and open minds, and we have to put forth leaders that will actually cater to their hopes and fears without scapegoats or sugarcoats.

It's all, you can imagine, a lot - a dodecahedron of terror to stare down. But facts remain: my daughters are learning to crawl and sit and eat solid food. They smile at me every morning I wake them and trust their parents' arms more than anyone's. In my worst moments, I could succumb to the abyss. But that dread is outweighed by the reward of love and the curiosity of their growth that's mattered more than any single reissue or box set I've ever thought about. And I believe that you - yes, you - have someone like that in your life. A lover, a friend, someone who trusts you, people you've made laugh from silly jokes online, people who've done the same for you. (If you're reading this, you're closer to it than you think.)

More than damning those who got us into this mess - or, at the very least, while doing so - we need to hold those people who matter to us closer than ever, celebrate them, be their reason to keep going. It's the only way we'll get even within grabbing distance of a better world, and it may not even work. But we'd be crazy not to try.

When I texted my friend - again, in a moment of bleakness - that it might be time to hang this "writing" thing up, he replied, "I disagree!" This morning, after too little sleep, a routine enough doctor's appointment, and looking into the loving eyes of my daughters, I texted him back: "I have had some time to think about this, and begrudgingly agree with this." What happens next is anyone's guess, although I will do my best to face it. May we all find the strength to do so.