Am I in, or am I out?

 

With the nightmare that is Trump 2.0 I ask myself on a daily basis whether to stay or go. 

Honestly, for reasons I've never known, I've just always assumed I would end my life in a different country than the one in which I was born. 

Maybe it's a Sagittarius thing. 

Maybe it was the faint shadow of fascism on the horizon I detected back in the Dubbya admin. 

Maybe it was the fact my mother was in need of a caregiver for the last 25 years of her life and moving to a country where help could be better-afforded looked appealing. 

Maybe it was the fact I fell in love with a European. 

Maybe it was the fact I love teaching ESL. 

Maybe it was all of that. Maybe it was none of it. I don't know.

But considering leaving your country, even wanting to leave it, and feeling forced out are very different things. 

As anyone who knows me will tell you, I have never (and will never) respond well to being told what to do (particularly by men). 

I'm not confrontational by nature, but I do NOT back down from challenge.

Even as a child, I would follow any rule that made sense, but God help you if I thought your rule was stupid. 

That part of my soul is not keen to walk-away from the usurpation of my country.

Yes, there are days where I feel like saying 'you made your bed, now lie in it' to everyone who voted for anyone other than Harris. 

Days when I just want to pack a bag, run, and pray Mexico hasn't yet shut their border to us. 

There are moments where I am certain this is Germany c. 1933 and I don't want to stay so late I'm stuck in Germany 1939, or '42, or really anytime before the 1990s!

There are days where I feel so disheartened by the lack of the Democratic party's willingness to meet the moment and rock the boat any way they can to protect small 'd' democracy, that I feel like they're just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

There are also days when I'm encouraged by the protesting, the boycotts, the push-back Reps are getting at town halls, the 'take-backs' the admin has been forced into already, etc.

I remind myself that The MAGAt King is old, stupid, and lazy, so maybe one/all of those will equal his failure. It's not like he's genuinely succeeded at much in his life. 

He would clearly rather play golf than actually work at anything, even his various low-effort grifts. Surely, that benefits us all.

Though he does surround himself with similarly venal and sociopathic sycophants, his ego also demands they be dumber than even himself. 

Maybe that will mean that they continue to fuck up so much they also fail. 

They say Mussolini made the trains run on time, but so far Trump/Musk have just had to scramble to rehire people they never should have fired, and caused planes to crash.

Those are exactly the kind of results I'd expect from two d-bags who were born on third and spent their whole lives pretending they've accomplished anything themselves.

One blew through his inheritance and bankrupted every company he ever ran; the other claimed he invented other people's work, and bought Twitter for $44 billion just to turn it into a $9 billion joke. 

No one even respects it/him enough to call it by the dumb name he tried to give it. Most people still call it Twitter, and even those trying, only manage a 'twitter-x' or 'x-formerly-known-as-twitter'. 

Ah, the futility of thinking you're a genius, when you're really such an unlikable loser you can't even buy major consensus.

Maybe that means their evil will end in Eliot's fashion; not with a bang but a whimper. 

Again, I don't know.

If I could leave today, I probably would.

But, one of us needs a back surgery and one of us needs a knee-replacement, and we'd like to try to get them done here. At least here we are fluent in the language and have some medical coverage (for now, anyway - who knows for how long). 

Having some mobility issues tends to hamper marching, but there are still boycotts, contacting representatives, and other ways of protesting. And I'm doing whatever I can, even though it doesn't feel like enough.

In the meantime, we're planting a garden and getting some chickens to mitigate the coming chaos as best we can. 

But we're also sorting out passports, apostilles, and logistics for our possible departure. 

We call them Plan A and Plan B.

Which one is which, depends on the day.