The Terrible Toddler of Washington and the Similarity of Seventy Years

I once said to my history teacher that the one good thing about World War 2 was that it would never happen again. “Well,” he said, “It was the second World War. We’re probably due another.”

A lot of those considered as “left-wing” are often accused of calling out any politician or leader they don’t like as a Nazi, and, fair play, some of us probably do jump the gun a little bit and try to push an alarmist’s interpretation of politics. But I like to think that when I personally raise the Nazi flag, it’s because they’re acting very reminiscently of the fascist regime. And Donald Trump’s recent actions in targeting a specific religion and barring them from entering the country is dreadfully reminiscent of the Hitler’s persecution of the Jews. And if that sounds alarmist to you, that’s probably because it’s legitimately fucking alarming.

Look at Hitler’s rise to power. He used a combination of manipulation and charisma to position himself into a democratic position of power, wherein he transformed the role to give himself total rule. When studying his ascension to leadership, I remember wondering how the hell anyone would have supported him, being as he wasn’t exactly secretive about his stance on the Jews and other such similar matters before he was even made chancellor. And then I saw America vote into power one of the most abrasively racist leaders of our generation. The method was different, I’ll grant you, but I’ve found the saying regarding those who ignore history being doomed to repeat it more pressing than ever before.

I’m not saying Donald Trump is a Nazi. I’m not even saying he’s an evil man. He’s more of an angry toddler than a meddling shark. But his ignorance and his iron fist are more reflective of the past than his supporters are willing to admit, and in 2017 we live in a world which cannot afford to lose its temper. There is no winning scenario in which Donald Trump can be removed from power, and lord knows he’s not going to listen to reason. I simply want the world to open its eyes to the menace that threatens the past seventy years of healing and evolution, and work together to ensure that it never happens again.

The Flight to Wilder Lands

When I half-promised a Tuesday blog post last week, I’d forgotten to factor in that I was going to be off the grid at the time, so that’s why we’re here on a suspiciously un-Tuesday time of the week. I have a decent excuse this time, though – I went on a Writer’s Retreat to Boscastle, with some others on my old uni course!

I had to take the first half of my bus journey alone, which became the cause of much anxiety on the week leading up to my departure. I managed to not get lost or murdered, though, which was fine. Liberating, even. To think that I might have cancelled the trip on this fear alone is, retrospectively, absurd, but too much time in your comfort zone can result in the mundane appearing so.

After journeying through the Cornish wilderness, I arrived at the hostel which I’ve been to twice before, and was immediately at home with the heated floors, the five comfy sofas that face each other, the beds with their overly thick blankets and the absence of phone signal. On my first trip there four years ago, there wasn’t even any WiFi, and I’ve continued to keep up the liberating feeling of being off the grid by simply stowing my phone and other devices away.

This annual fleeing to the countryside is actually organised by my University for my Creative Writing course, and, luckily for me, graduates are invited too. I initially planned on going there simply to meet and catch up with two of my old friends from the year above, but whilst in Boscastle I had the pleasurable experience of meeting and befriending those still on the course, and the thirteen of us spent much of our time just talking to each other. I thought my days of meeting like-minded Creative Writing students through the university were over, but I was treated to one last helping of friendship for which I am very thankful.

Whilst this has been one of my favourite trips to Boscastle, it’s also been one of my least productive. I wrote a grand total of two sentences, one of which I deleted. What I instead spent most of my time doing was a mixture of either chatting, reading (the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and the mixed bag that was The Cursed Child), walking and playing Mario Kart 7 with others. And to be honest, I don’t really regret my lack of productivity due to this.

One thing this trip has opened my eyes to is how long it’s been since I’ve met new people. I’m incredibly grateful for those I already have in my life, but as somebody who is not a social person, it’s easy to forget how much one can learn about oneself and grow in self-review from simply meeting someone new. As somebody who doesn’t drink nor live close to their friends or the city centre, it’s easy to fall into a routine where I see the same faces all the time. Coming home from Boscastle has emphasised the negative sides of my current life somewhat intensely. Life is about staying up for 30 hours so you could talk through the night, not remaining comfortably stagnant at home.

A Bumble of Words and Topics

So, what to write about? At this point I have no excuse. Here’s a healthy slot of free time, a wide open canvas and a plethora of thoughts and feelings to write about, but a complete lack of discipline needed to temper these thoughts into something intelligible, understandable, and readable. My brain’s a muddled mess of non-connected thoughts – from fictional impressions regarding the character of Sherlock, the world of Harry Potter and the cathartic success of The Theory of Everything, to personal feelings about isolation, friendship and minor imbecilic mistakes that linger like a bad smell, to wider regards of the world such as the brainwashed hive-mind and the widespread contempt between those of differing opinions.

When presented in such a way, it surely seems possible to pluck a subject out of this bubble of mess and to concentrate on that, and yet every time I try I find myself writing maybe one paragraph before closing out of WordPress in a fit of futile frustration. It could be writer’s block or maybe laziness, or some deeper reflection of some inner chaos that I’ve yet to unearth, I don’t really care. All I know is that I promised to do weekly blog posts and now I find myself faltering, but too stubborn to accept defeat.

So without further ado, let’s force some blog out:

I recently rewatched the entirety of Sherlock in preparation for the new series, and find myself liking the show more than ever. I find Sherlock’s combination of genius and sociopath to be quirky and gripping, and can’t help myself from trying to learn more from the world around me after having marathoned the show; albeit simple things, such as making an educated guess as to where a passenger on a bus may be going based on their clothing and baggage, or attempting to hasten the process of a customer’s transaction where I work by surmising if they want to keep their lottery ticket based on the quality of it (being more likely if it’s crinkled – they’ve already kept it previously). But despite all of this, what really draws me to the show is Sherlock’s isolation and his inability to act correctly in social situations.

I’ve already discussed Harry Potter and I don’t have much to say about The Theory of Everything besides maybe the fact that it brought a lump to my throat on many an occasion, a rare occurrence. I’d also categorise it as one of those life-long narratives I went harping on about some time ago.

As for the brainwashed hive-mind and the widespread contempt between those of differing opinions, well, there’s nothing new there, but Donald Trump’s ascension to (or rather, shambling trainwreck towards) power is polluting social media with a potency of ignorance and rage which is as unhealthy to read as it is to ignore. The headache that the shortsightedness and stubbornness that Trump’s supporters continue to radiate like a kid in a playground that refuses to stop constantly interrupting and one-upping you is giving me a headache so painful that it makes me want to sink a drill into the back of my skull to maybe feel something that’s less agonising.

And finally, to wrap up this bumbling mess of a blog post, I’d just like to say that to anybody concerned by the language and general theme of this blog post not to worry; all that is mirrored here is my frustration regarding my inability to write a decent blog post, nothing more.

See you next week! Maybe.

Okay Where The Actual Hell…

Today was going to be the day that I got back on track with blog posts!

Honestly it was!

But then I had work unexpectedly and tomorrow is not looking any less busy.

There will be blog posts soon, though! I promise!