June Renew: Day Twenty Six
I feel like I’m going through arguably the darkest cycle of my character arc. No, not in my first draft. I haven’t written in her for days. I’m talking about myself and my station in life. Lately I’m just one big ball of cynicism supplemented by resolve for a better world. It’s like I’ve found myself in another town after slipping on my leather jacket and motorcycling my way here. I’m the brooding dark horse with a lot on her mind. Those whose lives I’ve upended with my presence can’t decide if I’m a welcome addition or just another nuisance. And I don’t make it easy when I come across as a mean girl.
I’ll admit, being a bully isn’t a good look on me. Nor anyone. I think it’s mean to be mean to people for the hell of it. It’s not very ladylike, either. But I have had it just about up to here with the dinguses who are in charge of New York City right now. I don’t care if I have to live in a place with a Democrat at the helm, most cities in America do. I just want these stinkin’ progressives outta here once and for all. I feel like they are mucking things up at the behest of the annoying few who are perpetually offended and forever the victim. Or because the groups lining their pockets tell them to. If this were a healthy democracy, there’d be plenty of common-sense solutions to the issues we all agree are plaguing NYC. The ones New Yorkers supposedly voted for are just not the ones to champion it. They’re activists with an agenda instead of public servants working for the taxpayer. If all I can do right now to fight back is be a bit of an asshat on Twitter, then so be it. I feel it working. Because I’m not the only New Yorker who feels this way. Not by a longshot.
More and more I see the pushback against our elected leaders. They get engagement here and there, lots of likes and retweets, but those who choose to reply are nearly always against their progressive positioning. You’re actually starting to hear New York voices penetrate the puff of black smoke coming from the Limousine Liberals in charge. And boy, are we sick of it.
Except I don’t want to be the leader of this group I see forming. I’m just doing my own thing. Smoking a cig as I lean against the payphone bank, not moving for anyone but noticing them move toward me. When they search for a leader, I’ll say, “Not me,” like a gruff, grouchy cowboy would. Instead, I’ll point out what needs to be done, and the people will find their crews from there. I’ll just be happy I could help, and go along my merry way. But I’ve still got a Twitter account. As soon as I see accountability from my elected leaders, I’ll begin to give them props where props are due. I’m no bully, just a cold, unfeeling monster, I guess. But I’ve got great ideas and, at the end of the day, as I drive off into the sunset, you’ll know I had good intentions at heart.
I just want to save my city more than anything. Because I live here. I don’t want to live anywhere else. I don’t need to. It’s home. Doesn’t matter how I got here or when. I’m here now. And if the mood ever strikes me, sure I’d move out of town. Luckily for New Yorkers, I only need to walk two blocks and I’m in a whole ‘nother world. It’s worth saving. Mean girl Tweets and all.
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