I don't typically write these kinds of posts simply because throwing myself a pity party is not really my style. "Suck it up, buttercup" is how I live my life. But I guess there might be some worth in recording that I feel this way from time to time.
There was a city-wide camp sweep this week. I documented one of the camp sweeps here:
There was a moment where they just start taking stuff from these people. The very first thing they took were a woman's boots she had neatly set out in front of her tent the night before. He just took them:
As I was yelling about these inhumane atrocities I couldn't help but realize that no one was helping. City workers, police. I'm yelling. Begging for help. And they all are just staring at me with blank eyes.
The entire process expanded out into a global truth. We yell and yell. We beg and plead. And no one comes to help. Not god. Not man. No one comes to help.
And then the week, before I went to city hall to speak up about a rental development that no one wants in their neighborhood. The only thing councilman Shammas Malik thought was wrong in the world was the title of my podcast "All Politicians Are Slime Cancer." Here's his speech on that:
The profound absurdity of humanity was rolling over me like a steamroller trying to smooth out an asphalt road. "There's nothing to see here. Just keep pushing it down into the dirt and we can stop looking at it."
The world sometimes gets to me. When I'm tired. When it all seems pointless. All I see is the futility and screams of people begging for help. And no one comes. No one comes.
These feelings are always very temporary (like less than a couple hours) and the next thing you know, I'm back being the Happy Warrior again. But man. Where is the cavalry? Where are the adults? When does help arrive?