So, that was 2020.
Sucked, didn’t it.
I’ve decided to treat myself with a Three Ryes Men from Rubens, a barleywine aged in bourbon barrels.
There’s a Venn diagram for this beer and I am in it.
It tastes like maple syrup that you can drink. It is velvety and luxurious, with a little bite on the finish-part carbonation, part hops-which enhance the drinkable qualities immensely.
I feel like we’ve lived through the shortest decade in the longest year, and while I know that 2021 isn’t a fresh start, in the way that tearing the page out of a notebook gives everyone a clean slate, we could use just that.
John Scalzi has a post on his blog about how 2020 was, on paper, a very good year for him. But in practice, not so much.
I grok that, folks. I still have a job, still am housed. With those two things I am able to keep myself in beer and music, and still have enough left over to treat myself to a damn fine meal now and again. To donate to GA senate races. To just solve problems for friends or family. Or to be there for them in a capacity that others just may not have had the bandwidth for.
It’s been taxing, no lie but the thing is I could, so I did. I could do a good thing, so I did good things, whenever I could.
Fuck, though, this year has been depressing. At a time when coming together, metaphorically, to accomplish great things was the order of the day-and for the record, I can absolutely see what that world looks like, clear as a Hawaii sunset-America just…didn’t.
Because we were not called upon to do so.
There’s upside, of course; mutual aid networks bloomed, heightened awareness of the haves vs have nots, and what people of color endure in this country. More activists, more people getting involved in whatever capacity they could. The inkling of a vision of improvement. On the ground, a lot of work got done and I think it’s important to point that out.
But there was a better world and instead of moving towards it, we had people with the power to shepherd that in, dig their heels in and insist that the future was never and could never come.
It’s a shame, because we could be preparing for 2050, instead of desperately hoping 2021 will be the year we could right the ship.
But; I think there is a vision for a better future, and I think we have a chance to put it into motion.
It’s 2021 folks. The rules are much the same: wash your hands. Wear a mask. Film the cops. Be kind. Fuck Trump.
Let’s get to work.
Second pint goes to the Portland Rescue Mission.
So, that was 2020.