Looking back, there were a few animals growing up that I treated not quite like gods but with more reverence than normal creatures. Perhaps “mythological” is the right term here. And it wasn’t necessarily because these animals were more special than the others, but it is because of the way these animals were presented to me growing up.
Orcas, anacondas, humpbacks, condors, and bison are all ones that had that sentiment in me. And when one thinks about those species, you can understand why a small child would idolize them like monsters from Greek mythology. But there was one species that might serve as something of an outlier. A creature you probably wouldn’t expect.
The monarch butterfly.
And maybe the reason monarchs made this list was because of my exposure to them. The first four species were ones I rarely ever saw or never had seen, and bison viewing did exist nearby, but even that was a special treat. Most of these animals were big and rare. Monarchs, however, were small and flew right through my garden growing up.
But to say they were common is inaccurate. They were a rare treat among the butterflies who commonly fluttered past, but they were common enough to find their larva and chrysalises here and there. I could clearly see how they fit in our local ecosystem, but they weren’t overbearing like grasshoppers, cicadas, or moths. They were a pleasant summer surprise.
But the reason this insect became something almost legendary to me was because of the learning tool it served as. My parents utilized the monarch as a teacher for a young me. They used them to inspire a deep fascination with the natural world that dominates my personality now. For a long time, I saw nature through a monarch butterfly lens.
We would collect their caterpillars and raise them to adulthood in the summer, releasing them once they were butterflies. I learned about milkweed and how important that plant was to the monarchs. I learned about crucial concepts that still twirl around in my mind, such as pollination, metamorphosis, migration, and endangered species.
I was taught early on that the monarchs were a tragic species. Their numbers were threatened. Their food source was being wiped out. Their long migrations were dangerous, especially when they crossed roadways. Plenty of butterflies get smashed by oncoming cars. The monarch butterfly was in danger.
So, with all the nobility a child could muster, I became set on saving the monarch. Really, I wanted to save the natural world, but the monarch was that mascot. Before I knew about the threats that face whales, elephants, apes, and so many other animals, the monarch butterfly was the mascot of the endangered species in my mind. In that way, the monarch in all its beauty became the very symbol of our planet’s wellbeing to me.
The monarch made me want to take action when I grew up. Like any naive yet hopeful child, I began making promises. I was going to plant milkweed. I was going to let flowers for pollinators grow. And I would never hit a monarch butterfly with my car.
Now I’m running from adulthood. I’m like a caterpillar who doesn’t want to metamorphosize, but wants the freedom wings give you.
As a senior in high school, I can’t run from responsibilities forever. I was feeling that a little bit last Thursday night. After an okay but still long day of school, I had something of a busy night. First item on the list at only 4:00 — Practice for All-State Choir with my audition trio.
Auditioning for All-State is a grueling process. I tried out last year, and it was hectic. The actual audition itself is the least stressful part of the whole ordeal. You practice for months just to often get denied the day of the audition. It’s super intense for honestly little reason. Some act like getting in is the end-all be-all, which it really isn’t. It’s an honor choir. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an incredible opportunity, but is it worth the stress?
This year, I told myself I wasn’t going to stress myself out with it like last time. I needed a better mindset. And so far, I think I’ve been doing okay with that. But even when you do your best, it still becomes a stressful chore. Especially when you procrastinate like I do.
I practiced with the trio I’m going to audition with for about an hour, and it was really chill. We were all really patient and laid back. But still, I think the weight of the situation was looming over us.
Before I left, my dad texted me and asked if I could run by the store and grab some milk and napkins for supper that night. I said sure. It would be a short trip. Running to the store wasn’t a bad responsibility. In fact, helping out my family in a relatively simple yet convenient way felt good.
But even then, it still was something to get done.
I hopped in my car and and looked at the gas gauge. It was getting dangerously low. I wouldn’t have enough to make it comfortably through the day tomorrow, so it looked like I had to go gas up.
I was hoping to get a bit more out of my tank, but I had become something of an Uber the last few days. Some of my friends needed rides, between their cars dying, people losing licenses, and people who just didn’t know how to drive. I had started making consistent trips out of town to pick up people, then back into town to get to the school.
I was taking people to school, to D&D club, to early morning band practices. Speaking of which…the next day we had a marching band performance at a football game, which also crept into my mind around this time.
I loved giving people rides usually, but the list began piling up. And the more trips I made, the more gas I used. So I needed a refill.
I pulled up to a Casey’s and tried to remember how to use the pump. I rarely ever got gas on my own and usually went to a local business that just pumped it for you.
I fumbled my way through the purchasing sequence, having to reinsert my card three times because I always seem to forget how to use that thing too. Finally, I opened up the cap and put the nozzle in to fill ‘er up. And then nothing happened.
Minor anxieties began building up. Did I do something wrong? If so, what was it? Did I have to start the whole thing over?
I couldn’t waste too much time. I had to go to the store, then go home, get supper, then go to play rehearsal that night for a few hours. Oh, look, another thing. Greaaaaaaaaaat.
Finally, after the nozzle and touchscreen just sat there for a while doing nothing, I attempted to do the process again. And just as I was entering my card again, the thing finally kicked on, the touchscreen lighting up with “FILLING” as if to ask me, “What are you doing, kid?”
Thanks, gas pump.
The sound of fossil fuels getting pumped into my car with the distinct smell of gasoline in the air got me thinking, like usual. I was using fossil fuels. I was burning fossil fuels. Am I contributing to an environmental disaster just for convenience?
Yep. I was having an entire moral dilemma in a Casey’s parking lot. Greaaaaaaaaaat.
Seeing the gas gauge at full calmed me a little bit. It always does. To me, it’s like a gauge of freedom. It measures how much you can run around before you have to start worrying. I get the same dopamine when I see my phone battery at 100%.
With that full tank, my first order of business was to make the short trek across town to the store. And that short trek was still a trek.
I love living in a polarized nation, don’t you? I also love being someone who constantly thinks through all the moral shit that comes with being in a polarized nation. And I also love being constantly reminded of those problems.
On the way there, I saw plenty of political signs. Many of them were depressing ones. There were flags, too. And my favorites were colossal yard signs that took up most of someone’s lawn.
I find it impressive that someone can functionally YELL at me through a sign. Most political signs are small and just share a person’s opinions, even if they are a little insulting. But the big ones, oh boy. The big ones make you feel like you’re getting shouted at. They take up all your attention. The flags do this too. With their flashy colors, almost angry fonts, and sometimes demeaning messages. Messages like, “Take America Back!” and, “F🇺🇸k Your Feelings!” You know, messages that make you feel really good inside, right?
For all the dopamine I got from a full tank of gas, there was probably five political signs to sour my mood. But you get desensitized to it after a while, so it didn’t hurt that bad.
The trip into the store was relatively quick. I did have a little trouble finding the napkins for whatever reason.
But while in there, my social anxieties started to act up. I’m bad at being a normal human being. I’m worse at it in public. I have this thing I like to do called people watching. People are interesting. The problem is that I think people don’t like to be watched.
When in stores, my eyes naturally pick out the people who standout the most. And then I begin looking at the features that make them standout. And then I start staring. And staring is rude. And the anxiety creeps in that they see me doing this.
It also doesn’t help that I often stare at items on people that probably make them insecure. Just slightly odd hairstyles, weird facial expressions, droopy eyes. It’s not because I’m disgusted by them. It’s because I’m curious. It’s because I’m fascinated. But yeah, allow my staring at your insecure features tell you that.
I caught myself doing this with this one guy who looked normal but also not, which is what caught my attention. He was just slightly off, but not in a bad way. In an interesting way. But I was staring again. I felt bad. I looked away. I thought he saw me. Maybe that was the paranoia talking.
Then, as he passed by me, he smiled warmly, saying, “Nice hair, dude!”
I blushed and said, “Thanks.”
Maybe that’s why he was looking at me. Not because he caught me staring. Because he too was people watching.
I ran into the father of a friend in the store. We had a pleasant little chat, but he reminded me of a project I had been putting off doing. I wasn’t even sure what to do for the project, and time was running out.
He offered a solution, which is one I’m probably going to take. I am so thankful for that opportunity falling into my lap like that.
But then again, now I was thinking about that project I was putting off for no good reason. And All-State. And marching band. And play rehearsal. And giving rides.
To say I was super stressed is wrong. Many of these activities are ones I not only chose to do, but I enjoy doing. But still, the responsibilities were beginning to pile up. Not terribly, but enough.
Enough that I had to focus on them. I had to figure them out. I had to figure out what I’m doing to begin with. What am I doing? What are any of us doing?
My checklist was heavy on my mind as I drove home. Things to do, things needed to be done. Was I wasting my time too much?
And there were people out walking. And I caught myself staring again. I felt especially bad when I passed by an old woman hiding behind a Casey’s, her clothes raggedy, a blanket in her arms, an assortment of random objects around her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was homeless.
And here I was, passing by.
And then the political signs returned. Trump flags waved next to, even replacing American flags. Bright letters drew my attention from the otherwise mundane world. Bright letters I didn’t want to read, but did anyway. I couldn’t help it.
Politics. Practice. People watching.
I started staring at more people again. Crap.
Politics. Practice. People watching.
I needed to get home, my family was waiting.
Politics. Practice. People watching.
And I had rehearsal that night.
Politics. Practice. People watching.
And what about that homeless woman? Will she be alright? Probably. But maybe not. Was she mentally ill? Was she okay at all?
Politics. Practice. People watching.
Politics. Practice. People watching.
Politics. Practice. People watching.
Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching. Politics. Practice. People watching.
And then, my stream of thought was interrupted by a little, orange dot appearing in front of my vehicle. It was floating daintily into the road, like a falling feather. At first, I thought it was a leaf. But as I squinted to get a better look…
The little monarch butterfly got caught in the air stream going around my aerodynamic car. It got swept up over the hood and shoot up over the windshield. But it didn’t go high enough to miss the roof of my car.
My heart sank as I heard a tiny thud above me, like a twig on a drum.
The child in me crumbled like a cookie. The vows I made. The morals I had. The goals I wanted to accomplish. The man I wanted to become.
That thing was the symbol of the natural world to me. It always has been.
Now, to be clear, I haven’t fallen into complete, unrepairable despair over this little butterfly. I don’t need to go see a therapist just over this.
But I still think about it sometimes. Most people would shrug it off. I mean, think about all the bugs we smash into while driving in general. But then again, maybe I shouldn’t think about that, because then I’m thinking of all the tiny lives we slaughter on a day to day basis without ever thinking about it. We just forget it.
I know it’s not the end of the world. I know it was a mistake.
But even still…
I hit a monarch.
And I’m not okay with that.
Okay, now for something entirely different.
Project 2025 vs. Grizzly Bears
I was today years old when I found out that Project 2025 calls for ending federal protections on the greater sage-grouse, gray wolves, and grizzly bears.
Yes.
That’s actually in there.
…
HERITAGE FOUNDATION!!!!!!!!
We’re about to THROW HANDS, you COWARD!
Keep your FILTHY PAWS off the bears!
I learned about this wonderful fact watching a YouTube School House Rock tribute this morning about the conservative brain(less)child that is Project 2025.
And I gotta say. I’m pissed.
Project 2025 calls for basically ending the rights of so many people I care about. Most of my friends, a good portion of my family, even my freaking girlfriend. You know, all the people I care about the most. Project 2025 comes after them.
So naturally, I hated it. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, it’s a modern Mein Kampf. I consider the Heritage Foundation a bunch of fascist scumbags. American Nazis. Their plan for this nation would cause so much suffering, chaos, and death.
And since those topics are, I dunno, pretty damn depressing, I have to find forms of escapism to forget about them sometimes. One of my favorites as a huge animal, prehistory, and Godzilla nerd is learning about and thinking about large animals. You know, whales, rhinos, elephants, walruses, gorillas…
…bears…
YOU DO NOT TOUCH BEARS AND GET AWAY WITH IT.
I don’t CARE if he said he’s “not going to go with Project 2025.” If you vote for Trump, you are officially a BEAR HATER and are DEAD TO ME. I do not need a bunch of toxic BEAR HATERS in my life.
Look, the way I see it, it’s either the Cheeto-stained fascist or bears. Which one are you going to chose? Hm? Hmm? Hmmmmmmmmm?
Bears for Kamala and Tim. 2024, baby. Woohoo. 🎉
(Feel free to steal my makeshift campaign signs if you want to, though I doubt any of you want to. We gotta save the bears, man.)
KL … another home run! Love your style and perspective. I liked the part about the bears at the end. Though not something to take lightly, your viewpoints did leave a smile on my face … like many of your posts do!
And a Wannabe Author? You are an author! Keep Doing What You Doing! Keep Writing How You Write! Looking forward to your next post!
Empathy is the best!