I never seem to spend any time in my apartment anymore. I spent all of tonight at meetings-- went straight from the El after work to Kresge, and didn't make it back until 11:30 PM-- but that's nothing compared to last week. Between 4am Wednesday morning and 4am Monday morning, I was in my apartment for approximately 11 hours, and I was awake for maybe four of them. Thanks, of course, to the Wednesday-Thursday Springfield trip, and the Friday-Sunday trip to DC.
The DC trip was really quite an experience. I keep looking back on the Saturday IMF/World Bank protest, and the first thought that comes to mind is "It was really small." Which isn't fair at all, since the fact that the Sunday march was about 100 times larger shouldn't affect my interpretation of it, but I can't really help it.
Saturday was the reason I came, and Sunday was just an "Oh, that's convenient, we're in DC already" sort of thing-- I am very much a feminist at heart, but for some reason I've never really been driven to turn that into activism, although maybe I should be. Anyway, Saturday's was a good protest. There were a few thousand of us, and we flowed through the streets and drummed and shouted and challenged the neoliberal status quo, which is always a good thing. It wasn't a big step towards growing the movement we were talking about at dinner last week, the one that we need to revolutionize global trade and bring economic justice. But it was something; we were there. And I must admit that it stirred something deep inside me, the
something that makes me an activist, to join my voice with the people around me and yell "This is what democracy looks like!" (Or, almost as good, "Our world is not for sale!" and "El pueblo unido jamas sera vencido!") It fed my soul a little, I think.
But I don't think that's all I'm going to take from this trip. It was also an adventure that I shared with a number of really awesome people. And, by the end, I felt connected to many of them. It's not a feeling that I get to experience very often, so it meant a lot to me, in its own small way. Was it only a temporary connection, one which dissolved when I stepped out of the van, never to be regrasped? Or are there pieces of it that can be held onto? I really don't know. Feeling connected to people is such a precious commodity that I'm reluctant to let go of any opportunity I may have, although I don't know whether my desires are that relevant anyway.
In a lot of ways, I feel positively starved for closeness right now. I'm not sure that's a good thing. I mean, I'm glad it's driving me, because I can feel it pushing me to take risks that are out of chracter for me, and maybe they'll pay off. But I think it's kind of keeping me off-balance, uncentered. It pulls me away from being inherently satisfied with who I am as a person, and focuses me on what others think of me as I try to figure out whether friendships will develop. And I'm sure it makes me seem needy and hinders the natural development of said relationships.
It's hard. Life is hard. But it's pretty good, regardless. I have so much more to write, but I think it'll have to wait, since I should really get some sleep.
