There is so much to be pissed about as the world remains frozen in a frenzy of confusion and disbelief. As time goes by, there is no assurance that we will have something to celebrate anytime soon.
You hear it while riding the elevator as you grip your lunch and listen to co-workers debate how much worse things are going to get while lamenting about the good old days — when there seemed to be a sense of normalcy that was comforting.
How did the rate of deterioration escalate at such rapid speech without any warning?
I’m sure like me, you can’t help but chuckle at the current climate of panic and bewilderment Yes, this is a particularly sucky time for anyone with a brain and enough compassion to boot. No, this isn’t necessarily a phenomenon that hit us without warning.
In fact, we can’t pretend that we had no indication of the paralyzing consumption of bullshit and the societal ailments that would be induced by our greed and nonchalance.
Thanks to our reliance on programmed gadgets that have taken over the responsibility of our faculties while also releasing us from the burden of thought processing and the privilege of secreting emotions in exchange for human validity — we have tragically lost that human feeling.
This is exactly why you’re freaking out.
A decade ago — before mass media was catered to the clicks and swipes of recognition and way before we realized that we no longer have to be trapped in our feels — because that disposition is uncomfortably identifiable to our DNA — we were forced to do the dirty work in person or through he mechanics of voice.
We hadn’t yet been schooled in the options of delivering bad news with the aid of our finger tips, or primed for an existence that mandates a skillful approach to quickly evacuating from situations — in order to accommodate the infancy of legions more on the horizon.
There was a delicacy with which we handled each other that flowed through all the channels of interaction that was organically reciprocated and subconsciously valued.
Job hunting was a sport that we engaged in and the rewards were gauged by the understanding that this wasn’t a one-sided pursuit. We were in this together and no matter the outcome — nobody was going to walk away with cuts and bruises.
But now the ring of disengagement has expanded and all bets are off.
You can callously dismiss the helpers to their faces with no notice and with an explanation that hits the gut with robotic gusto. You can fearlessly douse the dreams of strangers that you’ve known longer than your spouse with the click of a box. You can threaten the life of a follower in the same way that you would extend an invite to poetry night. You can come up with zealously curated reactions that garner the attention you crave while you dent your couch with the ill-conceived notion that you’re an activist.
We can be so many things and execute our demands with flawless adherence to the keyboard and the tools that have been created for our minute by minute manifestations.
The monster that is dragging its tail around the globe and crippling everything we believed to be intact is also suffering from the disease of mental absence. His entry into our zone is no mistake and the best part is that nobody else could possibly encompass these times better or with such frightening finesse.
Freaking out is good, it is healthy and warranted. Some of us have always been knee deep in the gunk of what it means to constantly weather the storm that challenges our right to be treated as humans. Others have consistently enjoyed the peace that their counterparts still can’t amass — but their disturbance is now personal — so the crusade has been activated.
If we can look in each other’s eyes and feel what we’re feeling without the lenses of iPhones or the ratings that round up the numerical value of our humanity — then sign me up!
It’ll be good to feel again.