An unplanned post that encapsulates my current feelings on life.
I was about to write something political in a discussion thread earlier, then I stopped myself. My energies are wasted trying to make someone determined to be close-minded see the bigger picture. I respect the person involved for their writing talent, but they’re obviously set in their political ways.
I want nothing to do with any political party. I want no part in nationalism. I want it made clear that the fascist regime sitting in Washington does not represent me. I am a party of one. I want to go my own way. I am tired of seeing the world around me downtrodden by the stupidity and carelessness and shortsightedness of mankind. Humanity is a petulant child that is in desperate need of being bent over the galaxy’s kneecap and given a thorough smacking.
I grow weary of the weight pressed upon and around me by the forces of religion, politics, by hatred, xenophobia, and nationalism. I grow weary of having to put on a mask around my actual self in order to survive, to keep a roof over my head. I tire of having to explain myself to family, to people who should know me. I’m tired of this world of insurance, of planned obsolescence, of autocracy, of corporations, of greed, of the handful of men with most of the world’s wealth dictating our future course. I’m tired of repeating myself because I am soft-spoken and this boorish culture in America can’t understand any conversation that isn’t carried at yelling volume. I’m tired of carrying a name that translates to “god is my judge,” a name every other person gets wrong anyway; I didn’t choose it. I tire of the generations who came before me, mired in their bigotry and close-mindedness. I tire of my generation, trapped in its endless worship of glass devices, celebrities, of self-portraits and fancy coffee, of trends and political correctness, of irresponsibility, dishonesty and shallow integrity.
Humanity is capable of so much more. I am fatigued in my waiting for my species to grow up.
Don’t pity me, don’t pray for me, don’t give me platitudes and empty advice, when I tell you that I feel more alive and more hopeful for the future when I am reading or writing than when I walk the streets of this “real” world.
My name is not who I am. My job is not who I am. I am a story teller, an observer, an explorer, I am a creative force trapped and bound by flesh, blood and bone.