Pancakes are Gross

I came across an article, “Best Pancakes in Mexico City” and I thought, gross. Why is anyone eating pancakes in Mexico? Then I remembered that pancakes (or hotcakes) are on almost every breakfast menu in Mexico because gringos like the pancakes. And the waffles. I probably haven’t had a pancake in twenty or more years; I’ve never been a fan, but after reading this article, I began to fret that I’ll never have another pancake in my life, let alone a blueberry pancake. Everything is collapsing, going extinct, contaminated, poisonous, melting, burning, recalled and/or outrageously expensive.

A day or two later, convinced I’ll never see another pancake in my life, I sat in a Roma Norte cafe awaiting my stack of flapjacks.

I took a bite. Meh! They were thick, dry, gluttonous and hard to swallow. I still don’t like pancakes, but now I can die peacefully and blissfully, even though I now have rocks in my stomach.

local area pancakes

It’s all so fatalistic these days, the surreal sky is definitely falling, and I often remind myself to keep breathing while I can. Take note of the beautiful things while good and bad things slip away. Like blueberry pancakes. Sometimes I like to fixate on odd and beautiful things as the world spins faster and faster. What a ride.

I used to feel pretty good about the work I’ve been doing, the art I’ve been making and the community I’ve been a part of. It’s been very satisfying to be an artist in these modern days. But this past year or so (since early 2025, ahhhem) has been a doozy, with fluctuating states of anxiety and uncertainty of what people are willing to pay for anymore.

My confidence is most definitely rattled, but I’m also blind-faith leaning into my human network more and more as the floors dissolve. I’m not connected to a larger global community, but I have a tight-knit community of artists who draw with me each week on Zoom, there’s a lively online community of artists who participate in my monthly drawing challenges, and there are the ones who attend my in-person events. I’m totally grateful for this gaggle, and I think all of us are struggling to make sense of what’s happening. So we gather to make art together not as a way to solve the problems of the world, but as a way to manage the problems of the world.

This combustible era is also demanding that I define my path forward. I have tremendously reduced my belongings to minimum, pulled in the reins of unnecessary production, and slashed my social media engagement. I get it that I’ll never be adored online; it’s a game designed for losing, so I stopped giving it so much of my attention. Personal sovereignty is my goal.

Reality tv fascism has been painful indeed, but it’s teaching me to stay light, remain flexible and decide what’s important for my survival. I think that’s a natural part of growing old, but it feels slightly psychotic these days.

My Holy Trinity is my health, my art, and my community. Money comes in handy, so keep it fresh and flex as well. No more fretting over unnecessary woes. Lots of cord cutting, the focus is sustainability and love. Love?? Yes, love and kindness, for the love of Christ. I suspect too, I’ll have to make some big life changes in the coming days, but for now, I’ll buy some pure maple organic Canadian syrup in solidarity with my Canadian friends and fellow artists.

Hold the pancakes tho, they are gross. Beautiful, but gross. 💙

Dualidad Rufino Tamayo Mural @ Mexico City Anthropology Museum by Meagan Burns