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 pancakes. 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 in our world is collapsing, going extinct, contaminated, poisonous, recalled and/or outrageously expensive. I looked furiously at the article to see where these winner pancakes were and realized they’re everywhere in Mexico City.

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

I took a bite. Gross! 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 they feel like rocks in my stomach.

This is where I’m at these days. So many things feel fatalistic and like they are slipping away, and honestly, I think things are slipping away. Some of the good things and perhaps some of the bad things, but I know I’m not alone in feeling like the world is slipping away, transitioning into its next carnation. Whew, a bit surreal, no?

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 a fluctuating state of anxiety, growing economic concerns, and the uncertainty of what’s real and what people are willing to pay for anymore.

My confidence may be rattled, but I’m also leaning into my art community more and more as the floors dissolve. I’m not connected to a larger global community of sketchers, but I have a tight-knit community of artists who draw with me in Zoom every week, 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 community of artists, and I think all of us are struggling to make sense of what’s happening in our world. 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 highly transformative era, riddled with stress and confusion, is also demanding that I define my path forward. I have tremendously reduced my belongings, along with my social media engagement. I get it that I’ll never be loved, accepted nor adored there; it’s a game I’ll never win, so I stopped giving it so much of my attention. And, the entire contents of my closet can now fit into one suitcase whewwww.

This era of fascism and upheaval has been painful but is teaching me to be lean, light, and focused on that which is in front of me. What’s important for my survival, who’s in my immediate world, and how can I live a more meaningful life with the time I have left?

My art is important, and so is my community. There are communities where I am not welcome, but that’s life and no time to fret. I will continue to focus on survival, navigation, kindness and my art, because they’re undoubtedly all tangled up together, and I suspect I’ll have to make some big life changes in the coming days.

Hold the pancakes tho, they are gross.

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