I was going to write a blog about violence on TV these days.
Then I thought about talking about writing. My writing, your writing.
Then I thought…what’s left?
In this crazy world, the flux bends reality until none of us recognize what is right in front of us. I try and put my finger on the pulse of the world, and most times all that happens is that I prick my finger. The media has turned and twisted every day conversations into fodder not even fit for cattle.
Why do we do it? Why do insecurities make crazies out of the simplest people?
We all are motivated between fear and confidence, between being someone and being no one. We are taught to listen and obey. Too extreme. Now it’s attack or be attacked. We are judged by what we wear and how we speak and what we know or don’t know.
It’s a mean world out there.
I’m not saying previous generations were any better. But they did not have social media at their disposal as a tool to bully and lie and pontificate. Generations age, and as they do, tend to give up the fight sooner.
I’m not giving up — every day I meet good people. Honest people. People who love and are afraid and have hope. These good people are overshadowed by the runaway media that is intent on pounding us into the ground until we resemble oatmeal.
I’m not saying we don’t need media: we wouldn’t have such strong child rights and animal rights and the ability to track down serial killers and molesters and everything dark with the world without it. But we don’t need social media trolling or bullying in the name of getting more “likes”.
Me — I’m going back to ground roots philosophy. Write a book, write a blog. Donate to a charity of my choice. Teach my grand kids to live and love and to be nice to each other. Give someone a ride. Pick up and put back things that have fallen off the shelf. Read. Give positive feedback to blogs, stories, and tweets. Bake cookies. Play fetch with my dogs. Play fetch with YOUR dogs. Take a picture.
I’m going to tell everyone to Chill Out and Be Fucking Nice To Each Other and Move On.
My friend Elton said it best:
So goodbye yellow brick road
Where the dogs of society howl
You can’t plant me in your penthouse
I’m going back to my plough
Back to the howling old owl in the woods
Hunting the horny back toad
Oh I’ve finally decided my future lies
Beyond the yellow brick road ~Elton John, 1973