Profound thoughts on Change
My stomach twists. I set down the dictionary, forcing myself to ponder such abstract concepts. Swivelling in my black leather chair I stare out the window into foggy streets. “I can be change,” I whisper, sipping on a Chai latte and thinking about all the good things I could accomplish that day. I punch the air with my fists. “Fight, fight, fight the system of the down.” I can do it. I can advocate change.
Social change. Revolution. Activism.
My stomach twists. I set down the dictionary, forcing myself to ponder such abstract concepts. Swivelling in my black leather chair I stare out the window into foggy streets. “I can be change,” I whisper, sipping on a Chai latte and thinking about all the good things I could accomplish that day. I punch the air with my fists. “Fight, fight, fight the system of the down.” I can do it. I can advocate change.
But when I finally change out of my pyjamas and stroll down the sleepy streets of Blyth, I can’t think of what I’d like to change. It’s so ideal, so cozy, so darling. Perhaps social activism is more of a mindset, I convince myself, turning away as my elderly neighbour stands in his window and chugs down his breakfast bottle of vodka.
I wander back into my little home. Open up my laptop. News of hurricanes and wars and homelessness screeches across my screen thanks to a Yahoo pop-up. I immediately close it, annoyed by its invasiveness. Take another sip of Chai to centre my chi, open up a blank page in Word and begin to type out my profound thoughts on Change.
Emily Wierenga lives in Blyth, Ontario.
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