Mon, 10 December 2007
We sit in our days doing whatever it is we all do and busy ourselves with this and that and time just slides by. We get a little slower and a little thicker and a little grayer. Our friends get busy with families and careers and whatever friends get busy with. Big moments thunder in and thunder out. We mark the years by songs or where we were or the deaths of famous people. We fight for a cause or see no cause for a fight and year after year some event pounds into our memory and drives us further and further down the road from where we started our lives. And then in a moment of clarity the chaos recedes and we finally understand something that happened years ago or something that someone said or a mistake we made or a point where everything changed.
I am so worried that we are, the world, all of us, at one of those points where everything changes. Either we rise to the occasion or our failure will irrevocably alter the course of human events for generations. For all the greatness of man, we are ever ready for failure and total collapse. We're tearing each other apart over whose bearded maker is the best bearded maker or what love is or who can squat on what bit of dirt and with the consequences we can bring to bear conflict is unequivocally unacceptable and yet we still fight.
It's like we're on a collision course with some horrid fate we are programmed to drive straight into and no one is calling madness what it is; no one is calling for an end to it all. Where is our conscience? The ends now justify the means, but no one really wants there to be an end. This cycle of madness is the product of itself and there's no end in sight. What in the holy hell is the matter with the world? When did it become more important to have power than to have the truth? When did being polite become more important that being right? How did we let this all go so far? Is it the TV? Was Howard Beale right over 30 years ago?
I grew up under the impression that the world was basically a good place, getting better. I figured that my level of happiness was a starting point from which things got better; for me and for all people. But now so many years later I feel that picture is tattered and torn and the best of my optimism can barely wrestle my cynicism to a standstill. I see horror after horror and I wonder how in Christ's name people can allow it. And then I see people aren't, they're running from it. Some run into pretty dreams of how the world is or what things mean and others just try to carve out a little sanctuary in the shit storm, but who's fighting the good fight. It's not the politicians. They're like a microcosm for the greater battle and they're barely able to win against themselves so how are they supposed to fight and win for all of us?
So, I'm sitting here and thinking. Yesterday I was 10 years old and riding my bike, today I'm in my 30s teaching English and making investments, but have I done anything that mattered? Am I in the fight? Will I be bald and wrinkled and regretful or one of a great generation? Am I running or standing my ground? Am I just carving out a little place for myself or am I trying to hold the line? Honestly, I don't know.
I'm mad as hell and I don't give a good god damn what the reasons are. I want to make a difference. I want it to matter when someone dies somewhere, and not just to their family but to all of us. The deaths worldwide from calamity, strife and war are now as meaningless as sports scores and just as quickly forgotten. The self-destruction of pop stars is as important to most Americans as the implosion of our democracy.
Hell in handbasket, tickets for all, check your conscience at the door and leave your morales behind. Next stop, the future.
Category:Blog Posts -- posted at: 7:04pm CDT
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