Wednesday, February 24, 2021

Captain's Log, Day 30: Update on the State of the World

 

 Date: February 24, 2021

Time of post: 10:01 PM

Quarantine Day: 336

Last Song I Listened To: "Shape of You (Stormzy Remix)" by Ed Sheeran

Last Person I Communicated With: Sent Meg a Facebook message

Last Thing I Ate: tacos and Diet Coke

Last Thing I Read: The Ravens by Kass Morgan & Danielle Paige

Current Mood: *excited*

One Thing I’ve Accomplished Today: graded some homework assignments, sent several tedious emails

One Thing I Want To Accomplish Today: help Mom tidy up a little

One Reason I’m Stressed Today: lots of student emails about things I've definitely already explained

One Reason I’m Happy Today: Yesterday I got accepted to the (virtual) 2021 PCA/ACA Conference! I was going to go last year, but it was cancelled due to COVID. I’ll finally be presenting my Taylor Swift driving paper.

 

Dear Apocalypsers,

This is another interlude post, just to catch us all up on everything that’s happened in 2021 so far. It’s been a year already. So, to my grandchildren, when you read this, don’t repeat some of the language you see here but please know that Grandma was on the right side of history.

On January 6, literal domestic terrorists in the form of a MAGA mob broke into the fucking Capitol building and made it to the Senate floor—while Congress was in session. Thankfully, Congress was able to evacuate before the floor was breached, and they were all safe. Personally, I think Hawley (Missouri), Tuberville (Alabama), Cruz (Texas), and the rest of the Republicans (at this point, yes, all of them, because they should have denounced their party a long-ass time ago) should have just hung out with their constituents in the hallways. Those sorry excuses for human beings broke into Nancy Pelosi’s office (she’s the Speaker of the House). They were actively looking for Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Ortez. They wanted her dead. There’s a picture of an AssHat (what I will be calling the terrorists throughout this paragraph) pictured holding zip ties, like they were going to take hostages. As many people on Twitter pointed out, we ere *this close* to seeing executions live on national television.


And what did our sorry fucking excuse for a president do??? Trump just sat there. Literally! Some outlets said he was paralyzed; others basically insinuated that he was just fascinated like he was watching a TV show.

Fuck Trump. Fuck the Republican Congresspeople who egged it on. Fuck the individuals who partook in it. It’s fucking disgusting. I hope every last one of them burns in their own personal hell.

Oh, look, AssHat with zip ties. They were going to abduct people. It was so scary. [photo by Win McNamee/Getty Images]

And why did they do this, you might be asking? Because they were opposing the ratification of Joe Biden as President—because Trump fucking told them to. There were so many tweets about them planning this goddamn raid—and no one did a damn thing about it. Some of the fucking cops just let the mob waltz in and took selfies with them. (See why we need to defund, reallocate, and restructure the entire police force?)

I’d like to say I’m surprised. But I’m not. Trump has been inciting violence for years. It makes complete sense that it boiled over to this.



I was at Jennie’s apartment when it happened. We were writing an article on Taylor Swift those few days, and we just kept refreshing Twitter and watching the news. It was so surreal—and as more and more information came out about Trump and certain Congresspeople’s involvement, it just got worse. You don’t think about how you’ll react to an attempted coup. No matter how many times you’ve read or seen The Hunger Games, you probably won’t act that way when you’re faced with it. But it did feel like I was in the Districts watching an attack on the Capitol…but, in this case, the Capitol was actually trying to fix things. So we just sat with baited breath and watched—watched as the National Guard wasn’t called in; watched as Eugene Goodman led an angry mob away from the door where Congress was meeting; watched fucking terrorists with face paint and horns and Confederate flags scale walls and parade through the Capitol building.

And then it was over.

But can a country ever come back from a Presidentially-sanctioned coup? I don’t know. I don’t think so. Not completely. I guess we’ll see.

A rioter takes the Confederate flag into the Capitol building...which didn't even happen during the Civil War. [photo by Jim Lo Scalzo/EPA/EFE]


I guess there was one positive thing worth highlighting for posterity: the kids. Once again, Gen Z has proven that they really don’t mind shutting down Trump’s fascism using social media. I may have mentioned how the K-Pop stans bought all the tickets to a Trump rally and then didn’t go, and this has the same energy. The childrenof MAGA rioters were identifying their parents from pictures and reporting them to the police and FBI. It was pretty incredible (and hilarious) to watch. And I think, years from now, we’ll realize how brave that was.

For one thing, it’s so hard to break from what you’re brought up with. Having social media and the Internet from such a young age does make it easier to be exposed to new ideas, and I’m sure that’s part of it. I also think that hatred is taught, so if these kids were seeing other stories online, it would be easier to ignore their parents’ bigotry. There’s also a lot more discourse about “just because they’re your parents doesn’t mean you owe them anything or that you have to love them”—which really flies in the face of what Boomers and Gen X were taught and then taught us (for the most part).

So all these little things definitely could have helped. But at the end of the day, these teenagers on TikTok and Twitter put themselves in risky situations to report their parents because it was the right thing to do. We don’t know what backlash they faced at home or from their extended families or from their communities. But they still did it. And that just kind of reinforces what all those dystopian YA books taught me: that young people are cool as hell, and that, given the chance, they’ll step up.

In related news (since it’s what the domestic terrorists were “protesting”), Joe Biden and Kamala Harris were sworn in as President and Vice President on January 20, 2021. I was honestly a little worried that something would happen at the Inauguration, but it seemed to have gone smoothly. They also sent a lot of National Guard to D.C., so that probably deterred some protests. Mom’s-coworker-Jill’s youngest song, Caden, was in D.C. with a few Alabama National Guard units, so that brought it all home a little. There are tons of pictures that went around showing what the Capitol Building looked like on the 6th vs. the 20th, and it was really sobering to see. But there was also a lot of hope. Like maybe things will get better under this new presidency. They have to.

The Capitol building on January 6th vs.


the Capitol building on January 20th during Biden's Inauguration


The highlight of the Inauguration, though, was Amanda Gorman. She was named the first ever National Youth Poet Laureate in 2017, and she stole the show. Which, like, I’m grateful that everyone got to see the power of literature in action on such a vulnerable day, but I was also a little surprised that people almost…weren’t seemingly aware of the magic of a good poetry reading.



 Even my dad—who has to live with me for goodness sakes!—was like, “Oh, wow, that was good!” And my cynical self can only think, “Yes, breaking news for 2021: poets are good public speakers. Shocking!” Gorman read the poem “The Hill We Climb,” and it really was incredible and poignant and the perfect balance of things we needed to hear—and I kind of expected it. I know so many incredibly talented poets by trade—Jacque, Winniebell, Mawi—and incredible hobbyist poets; I know why poetry matters. I know it can change people, and I know it can speak to people when other words fail. So I was very happy (to see Amanda Gorman, a young Black woman, have so much impact on a national scale) and very frustrated (to have it further confirmed that the Arts are not widely available and taught to students in ever field).

Insert "forever my First Lady" here
Other Inauguration highlights included Michelle Obama’s outfit, 






comparisons between Lady Gaga’s outfit and The Hunger Games (which is where this blog started, so that’s pretty apt), 

Truly  incredible. A fashion icon.











and, of course, Bernie Sanders using a meme of him to raise $1.8million for charity.

Truly, no one was safe from the Bernie memes. 
Here he is with the Golden Girls, looking cozy and
unbothered.


In other “good-but-harrowing” news—of which there is far too much these days—the whole Cline Clan has had their first dose of the COVID-19 vaccine. We were vaccinated on Thursday, February 11th at the Jacksonville Community Center. The actual process of getting vaccinated that day went fine. It was mostly smooth, no major problems—it was everything leading up to that point that was terrifying and terrible.

The week of February 1st, “they” (FEMA, Calhoun County, the State of Alabama???—I really don’t know, but it was circulating on Facebook) announced educators would be eligible for the next round of COVID vaccines and that Jacksonville Community Center would be added as a vaccination site one for 2 days. From what I understand—and, again, it was a mess, so information was not disseminated well—there were 1000 vaccines to give out each day…and we had to register online.

It was like the fucking Hunger Games. They used Eventbrite—yes, the same website you can buy concert tickets on—to give out “tickets.” (See side rant below.) The website went live at 7AM, and Mom, Dad, Eric, and I were each stationed at separate computers (me and Dad at home, Mom at work, and Eric at Wesley House dorm) refreshing the screen hoping that one of us would get in. (It reminded me a lot of my Sophomore year of college when Jennie, Bailey, Meg, and I all sat around to get a “good room” as soon as the housing website went up—but that seems so stupid in comparison to what was at stake here.)

Of all of us, Mom got in. And she called me. She sounded so scared, because she honestly didn’t know what to do once she got in and she was terrified that she wouldn’t be able to get us all tickets. So I tried to talk her through it without actually seeing her screen. In the meantime, though, I sat with Dad, who had managed to make it “into the queue” just in case something went wrong. (My computer, which was just in another room of our house, never did make it that far.)

The sign-up was weird. We needed to get 4 tickets, so we needed to sign up for 4 separate spots. The website would let us select up to 8 tickets at a time. At the time, Mom thought she would need to fill out the information for each ticket separately, and—this will stick with me forever—she started with Dad’s name. There were several minutes there where my mother—my big-hearted, sassy, impatient, loud, ridiculously strong and smart and giving mother—thought she was going to have to choose what order to get her family this vaccine, thinking that she might not be able to get all 4 forms filled out before all the spots were taken. And she put Dad’s name first—because he’s in his 60s, and he has diabetes, and he’s on kidney dialysis. And I like to think that anyone in my family would have done that, too, but I think it’s human nature to put your own name first when you’re under that kind of pressure. On one hand, it’s self-preservation, but, on the other, it’s a knee-jerk reaction. But Mom started with Dad. And I’ll probably cry every time I think about that for the rest of my life.

So that’s how Dad’s name ended up on all 4 of our tickets. At no point did Mom have to go back and put in different names. (Which makes sense because it’s Eventbrite. When I bought Jonas Brothers concert tickets, I bought all 5 tickets on my card, and everyone paid me back. No need to do them individually.) The whole “one name” thing did cause a bit of an issue when we went to get tickets, but the nice people running it reassured us that we weren’t the only people it happened to. It was an issue with the system (no shit).

After Dad got the confirmation email confirming “his” tickets, I was still on the phone with Mom. I remember saying “You did it, Mom. We’re in.” I remember looking at those tickets like they were gold, like I was Charlie-freaking-Bucket, and I was going to willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. And, at this point, a vaccine is about as valuable.

I cried that day. And I felt guilty. K-State is teaching online. I don’t even teach in Alabama. I couldn’t help but feel like I was “taking” a vaccine from an elementary school teacher who is teaching in-person or a grandmother who’s been teaching for 50 years and is extra vulnerable. I’ve just always put others first (which I feel weird even saying), and this is honestly why I wouldn’t do well in a zombie apocalypse scenario. But I know that I need this vaccine just as much or more so than others. I will be going back to in-person teaching, and I do have an autoimmune disease (as much as I try to deny it). So I got it…and I tried not to feel too bad about it.

 (Here’s my side rant—it’s so fucking surreal to use Eventbrite. I understand that it’s probably a useful format, but no one changed any of the language. When we were waiting to get in, they told us that we were “in the queue for a popular event.” When we got the tickets, they said, “Congratulations! You’ve got tickets!” The whole thing felt like some twisted event that the Capitol would throw. It was sickening. Like, it still gives me shivers to think that this was being treated the same way as the Jonas Brothers concert was.)


As a palette cleanser, I’ll end with all my good-good news! Thankfully, there’s been some of that!


First, I’M PUBLISHED!!! I got the email in September, and I couldn’t really say anything about it until the end of January when the issue came out. But I’m published in the inaugural issue of The Journal of Fantasy and Fan Cultures. Adrianna Gordey actually sent me a link to the CFP back late last Spring because they were doing a special Harry Potter issue! Obviously, I knew that was meant for me, so I submitted the paper I wrote for Anne Phillips’ seminar class. Of course, not 2 week later, JKR went full-on TERF, and I thought I lost everything that made me special as a scholar. That set publication back some, as did COVID, but I was really pleased to see that they went through with it. It’s a small journal specifically for graduate students, but the topic was so fitting that I knew I wanted to be part of it. And it’s just the first of many, I’m sure.

In other Potter-related good news (which there isn’t much of these days), Phil nominated my Master’s Project for the ChLA Graduate Student Essay Award!! Needless to say, I was shocked. Someone from my cohort has won that award or been an honor recipient the last 2 years—Molly Burt was awarded an Honorable Mention for it our first year, and Dustin Vann won it last year—so that’s immediately what I thought about when Phil wanted to nominate me. Now, I should be thrilled, because that means he thinks my paper’s on par with the best Children’s Lit graduate work in the country and that my paper could even win it—and, like, Phil’s a big deal. He knows Children’s Lit—but I’m actually just kind of nervous about the “legacy” of K-State. Ebony Elizabeth Thomas once called us the “Avengers of Children’s Lit!” That’s just a little bit of pressure. But I made a lot of edits to my project, and I really like the finished product, so even if it doesn’t win, I’d like to pursue publication for it. I had Jamie Bienhoff (who graduated from K-State 2 years ahead of me) look at it, and she thought it was really good and accessible and relevant, so I’m excited about its potential. Obviously, I struggle with balancing confidence and expectations, and I don’t want to get my hopes up too much, but it would feel so good (and wildly surreal) to win that. I guess we’ll see.

Finally, still academic-related but not about Harry Potter, this week I got re-accepted to the Popular Culture Association (PCA) national conference! I was supposed to present last year when it was in Philadelphia, but it got COVID cancelled. Jacque, Noelle, Molly, Dustin, Mikayla, Lexi, Katherine Dubke, and I were all going to go and share an Air BnB and take a day trip to NYC. It was slated as our “last hurrah,” and I was so, so, so excited. I will never be over the fact that I should have had that experience by now. (I was going to see the Balto statue in Central Park!!! Like, that’s my DREAM!) And we were all going to present fun papers that weren’t related to our schoolwork, because we would all be done with our defenses by then. I was going to present a paper on driving allusions in Taylor Swift songs…and that’s exactly what I’m going to do this year!




PCA is virtual this year, so I’ll 100% get to present, and I’m so excited for that. As you may have heard, she’s also dropped 2 more albums since this time last year, so I have even more material to work with! This paper started when Mikayla and I were sitting on the floor of my spare room crafting and listening to T. Swift (as we do pretty regularly), and one of us said, “She’s never the one driving in her songs.” And I think it was me who then came up with the conspiracy that “maybe she can’t drive.” And then we just started spitballing back and forth about driving and when she drives and when she doesn’t drive—and that was before Lover dropped. Mikayla said something to the effect of, “If she drives on Lover [because it will be the first album she owns outright], you know you’ll have to write about it.” And then, lo and behold, in “I Think He Knows,” she says, “Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh / We can follow the sparks, I’ll drive.” And, well, a promise is a promise.

 

So those are the highlights of 2021. I’ll see you tomorrow for a special, uber reflective birthday post.

Until then, may the odds be ever in our favor,

Katie

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