Lately, I haven’t felt super inspired to write.
And instead of spiraling, I’ve tried to get curious.

Because something else has been calling to me—and I finally started listening.

I’ve been drawing.

Cartoons. Characters. Faces with big expressions and messy feelings.
I’ve been using ChatGPT’s cartooning tools to sketch daily, experiment, and play.

And it’s lighting me up in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

Comics were my first love.

I was obsessed with Archie growing up—not just reading them but collecting them. Carefully sealed in plastic sleeves. Catalogued in a spreadsheet. Treasured.

Same with my Garbage Pail Kids cards.

These weren’t just stories and images—they were part of me.

In my 30s, I gave the collection to my nephew, thinking they were gone for good. But a few years ago, a surprise package from my brother showed up…

Inside: my comics. My cards.

I burst into tears. It felt like a part of my childhood had come back home.

Now, decades later, I’m drawing again. Every day.

I’ve been posting some of the cartoons I make, and I even created an animated short (scroll down to watch!). It’s playful, creative, imperfect—and totally magical.

But you know what still creeps in?

That voice.

This is silly. You should be writing. You should be doing something that matters.

But here’s the thing:

This does matter.

Elizabeth Gilbert says,

“Your art doesn’t have to save the world. It just has to save you.”

And I believe this with my whole heart.

Because when you let it save you, it ripples outward.

When I draw, I feel connected—to my kid self, my queer joy, my actual aliveness.
And in a time when joy is under attack, that connection is everything.

We’re living in a time when queer and trans people are being legislated out of public life.
Books are banned.
Families like mine are being driven from their homes.
Trump is back in office—more emboldened and dangerous than ever.

And in times like this, it’s easy to shut down.
Go numb.
Keep your head down.

But that’s exactly when we need art the most.

Because:

Tyranny thrives when people go numb.
And art is the opposite of numb.

Art connects us to our bodies.
To our laughter.
To our weirdness.
To our truth.

Dictators fear artists because we make people feel.
And when people feel, they remember what matters.
They remember who they are.
They remember how to fight back.

Every cartoon I draw is an act of reclamation.
Every sketch is a little spark of rebellion.
Every time I choose joy over shame, creativity over compliance, I’m saying:

I will not disappear.

Art is activism.

It’s truth through the side door.
It’s protest in technicolor.
It’s sacred and weird and deeply, beautifully human.

(This is what resistance looks like—and it’s adorable.)

What joy are you holding back because it seems too small, too silly, too frivolous?

What secret creative dream are you telling yourself doesn’t “count”?

Here’s your permission slip:

Do it anyway.
Let it save you.
Trust that it will matter to someone else, too.

Post your art.
Sing the weird song.
Make the silly video.
Write the poem that doesn’t try to be profound.

Follow your joy.
It’s not frivolous. It’s freedom.