My 11 minute rental cost me $3.75, which is about what I’d pay for a long bus ride or a light rail trip down to SeaTac airport. Biking was about 15 minutes faster than walking home, but biking cost me $3.75 more than walking. Also, because the bike had a battery pack, I probably burned fewer calories than I would have on foot.
Multiplying it out, a commuter using rideshare bikes for “last mile” commuting to and from work could easily spend $150 per month just to avoid a short walk at the end of their bus or train ride home. Seems pricey to me.
I think I’ll save my $3.75 splurges for espresso and keep on walking. 🚶♀️
Depending on who you ask, hopepunk is as much a mood and a spirit as a definable literary movement, a narrative message of “keep fighting, no matter what.” If that seems too broad — after all, aren’t all fictional characters fighting for something? — then consider the concept of hope itself, with all the implications of love, kindness, and faith in humanity it encompasses.
Now, picture that swath of comfy ideas, not as a brightly optimistic state of being, but as an active political choice, made with full self-awareness that things might be bleak or even frankly hopeless, but you’re going to keep hoping, loving, being kind nonetheless.
Through this framing, the idea of choosing hope becomes both an existential act that affirms your humanity, and a form of resistance against cynical worldviews that dismiss hope as a powerful force for change.
We could all use a little more hope, I think, but not the kind characterized by blind idealism or the certainty that in the end everything’s going to be okay. We might not be okay; there are no guarantees. But we can fight the good fight, always.