Alright, so it turns out I love Instagram Stories. When it first came out (about thirty seconds after I finally swallowed my pride and joined Snapchat) I had no idea whether I'd ever actually use the thing. Or, if I did, how I'd use it any differently from Snapchat, aside from the fact that on Snapchat I could look like a nervous deer if I wanted to.
Here we are again. So let's do this, again.
OK, never mind. I said I was going to return to the regular RG programming, but I can't. Not yet. There's too much panic and fear and sadness out there; too many people who feel helpless, like the world is crumbling beneath them. A few minutes ago, I left a meeting with my local school district that I'd requested to discuss what exactly is going on with the crippling under-funding and what the community can do to help, and left feeling despondent about the state of education in America, and how much worse it's going to get as the economy plummets. I sat down on a wall to wait for my ride home, and clicked over to Facebook only to find a post titled "Farewell America." I read it with tears pouring down my face.
Because what that post said was that we have reached the end of the American experiment. That America as we have known it is gone, and that nothing will ever be the same.
The world changed, alright. Just not how any of us had expected.
I wasn't going to post today. And then, around 10PM last night - when it was clear what was happening, but before the election was officially called - I turned off the TV and got into the bath. I took a Star Magazine with me because I couldn't bear to think about anything other than Brad Pitt's marital woes, and for the first time I actually understood why that kind of blunt-force entertainment is so addictive: it gives us the chance to fall down a rabbit hole of celebrity breakups and makeups and the cutest boots to buy this season, and when we're in that rabbit hole we can pretend for a moment that the real world doesn't even exist.
Like many of you, I need a minute to absorb what just happened, and to try to wrap my mind around what this means for the future of the country - not to mention the future for minorities, for women, for the LGBTQ population, for our children, and for thinking, feeling human beings across America and far beyond.
Just added to the glam | camp Holiday Shop: the coolest sustainable amber bamboo boxes. They're technically jewelry boxes, but I like the idea of using them as hiding places for your secret favorite things. (Mine is currently holding Sugar Babies and Xanax.) (Oh shush, I'm totally kidding. I don't even like Sugar Babies.)
Trump just got booed at his own polling place (via The Verve.)
Now THIS is how you #adult. Oh man, I am going to miss him. (Obama Calms Supporters When Trump Protestor Appears, via CNN.)
Election Day is tomorrow. Finally, and thank god, we have come to the end.
Except, of course, it's also just the beginning - because whichever way this election goes I think we can all agree that regaining faith in our democracy is going to be a long process for a lot of people. And for all the bigotry and ignorance and intolerance that Donald Trump has brought onto the national stage, he has also thrown in our faces a fact that many of us may not have fully understood until now: there are a hell of a lot of angry people out there. A hell of a lot of people who feel like they are not being heard.
What this means is that no matter what happens at the polls tomorrow, there is work to be done. And the first step is acknowledging those who feel that they have been silenced, whether by misogyny, by racism, by the media, or by a political system that sidesteps their needs...and making sure that they have a voice.
