6 Months To Wrap Shit Up - What's Next For Me, Fuck Israel, and All That Other Good Stuff That Makes the Heart Swell.

Consider this your warning: this blog will end in six months—around the end of December 2025, to be more precise. A sad day for all, I’m sure. The internet will never recover from this tragedy. Send me your thoughts and prayers, and start a GoFundMe in honour of my indelible contribution to the digital wasteland. In return, I’ll send you pictures of my butt tattoo and a snarky poem filled with dark musings about life as we wish we didn’t know it.

To be honest, I never planned on it lasting this long. I didn’t think many people would actually read it. Cue my ever-present sense of insignificance (classic Enneagram 4 sad girl shit) and the distorted belief that my voice—like my face in a crowd—blurs into the background and is ultimately forgettable. I'd always wanted to blog, but putting my insides out there for public consumption seemed a bit too indulgent. Still, I made myself do it. If only just to recognize myself again.

I was bursting inside. Frustrated and incredibly anxious at the end of my degree, adrift in the existential vacuum of the “who am I now?” chapter of life. I needed catharsis. I didn’t think I’d actually keep it up—but I did go ahead and pay for multiple years upfront (a move that now feels hilariously optimistic in retrospect).

This whole thing has been far from perfect. But then again, I simply don't have the time for it to be. Most posts are pushed out at the end of a long day, when my brain is already scrambled and my energy shot. Then the baby cries, and my words end up softly abandoned. Some posts are half-edited drafts I meant to return to, accidentally flung into the void.

I haven’t been the best at blogging—and that’s a tough pill, because frankly, I’ve gotten used to being the best at most things I try. At least in the academic and emotional realms. And probably also in bed (just ask my hubby). Ha. But this space has been good for me.

I’m a human being. This is what that looks like. At least I’m not failing on a world stage. At least I’m not some TikTok-brained Trad Wife swaddled in aesthetic motherhood while ignoring the suffering of others. At least people don’t care too much about some mom tucked into the west coast suburbs of Canada. I’m fine being invisible. Most of the time. I think? I've been truly seen a time or two, and maybe that's enough for me.

Anyway, reeling myself in here so I don't get too tangential or overly wistful, it's time to start thinking about the next few years. What I want creatively. Where I'm going. I don't mind Wix as a blogging platform (though some features are rather annoying), but I do hate where the money goes. It's hard to ignore the "WIX TEL AVIV" description on my billing statement. Sure, I bought the plan before October 2023, but Israeli oppression of Palestine didn't start then. And if there's one thing I despise—one thing I hate—it's hypocrisy. I can’t keep financially supporting something that contributes—directly or indirectly—to the murder of innocent Palestinians. I just can’t.

Maybe I’ll find a different platform—WordPress or something more aligned with my ethics. Or maybe I’ll just focus on the poetry book I’ll probably never publish. Maybe I'll spend more time engaged in activism for causes I'm passionate about. Maybe I’ll finally figure out what kind of Master’s degree I want and do the slow, painful work of applying.

Or maybe I’ll just be a mom. Another voice, floating quietly into the ether.