American Dreaming

Did you know that Americans, more than any other Earthly citizen, believes that things will all work out if they are patient?

While this positive attitude may get us through the day, the reality is that Americans might as well be Nero, fiddling as Rome burns.

The current state of this country smells of pre-revolution. The behavior of a few has ratcheted up a feeling of powerlessness and hopelessness that currently could cause the collapse of our republic.

As news comes across the wire of scoundrels getting away with gaming the system, and there being no justice to their behavior, the majority of us feel the blame is the self. After all, why would those that are deemed successful not have been saints in their methodology?

Alas, we are the dupes, and on a grand scale. We put the blame on the collective when we should be gathering torches and pitchforks and taking the scoundrels to the cleaners.

I surmise that we live in a society of addicts and pushers. We are so addicted to living a life of ease that few venture out to be self-made and even less stand up for the rights fought for by our previous generations.

Few would be willing to die for the rights of the collective good. Sure, there are the noble believing they die for vurtue, or "freedom," but few are willing to tell their bosses to stop treating them like cattle.

As disposable as our eating habits are, so are those in the labor market. While being addicted to working for others, feeling there is little choice, and wanting that which we are marketed, we excuse the dealers, or the established workplace, for doing whatever it wants, literally.

But someday we may wise up, take to the streets, and change things. I don't know how likely it will be soon, if ever, but it could come. And, on that day, I would not want to be one of the privileged, no sir. Because, if anything, we look for someone to blame and they have been overlooked for far too long.

The reality of reality

Here we are, on a planet, in a solar system, in a galaxy, in the universe.

We have senses, things that tell us, or are at least supposed to, how to function on this planet. They move us through time and space and are, essentially, our best friends.

But I wonder why we don't call our memory a sense. After all, these things are part of how we traverse in our universe, informing our decisions and enhancing our other senses so that we use them properly or improperly.

The rapid pace in which we use these tools is amazing. If you were to try and really think about what it means to be existential and aware at all times, one might not ever leave the confines of their room. After all, the knowing that the unknown lurks around any and all corners is enough to not want to venture forth.

And yet we do. On a daily basis, future unknown, sights unseen, we go out into this crazy world. We face an unknown reality. Sure, we can make good guesses, and are usually right, but not all of us will make it through that day, in that time or to that peace of mind that comes with another cycle survived.

As I go forward with this new blog, I want to explore what we are dealing with here, on this planet, during this time, and before my own card is pulled.

I hope you join me. We have a lot of fun to do.

GOP gets their message across

The GOP is at it again. Twisting the facts to get the ill-informed on their side. Using words like "common sense" to fool people is pretty damn despicable, if you ask me.

And what is their common sense? Like science and facts, right? Or is it opinion? Face it, folks, the GOP is so out of touch with the modern world that they want to give kings more ransom and kiss their feet, as if they will do good for one and all across the land.

If anyone believes that true small businesses profit what the GOP pretends they do, they are sadly mistaken. Only 2 percent of them would be affected by the lapsing of the cuts. Meanwhile, after nearly a decade, the supposed job creators somehow cut payrolls to bloat profits. Meanwhile they ax those that got them there.

I hate to think that voters could possibly believe that, by strengthening the wealthy class will mean that, if they get their someday, they will be welcomed into the club. Old money has no love for new, folks. Don't kid yourself.

Alone on a most day

I have figured something about the majority of my life: I have always seemed a loner. I don't necessarily like this feeling, since I am quite social everywhere I go, but I seem to like the soloist route, where ever it may take me.

And yet I am always looking for my tribe. Which one, though? I have tried, first, at the tribe of family. It seems like my tribe, since our similar blood runs through us, and the whole shared history thing. But I don't see a whole lot of who I am in their faces.

Then there is the friends tribe. I have spent many a day and night running about, looking for those that seem like me. I first searched the fields of sport but came up empty-handed. Then I searched the fields of play and noticed that no one looked at me with that knowing look. Then I looked into the theater and, for a moment, thought I saw my brothers and sisters. At long last, my search was over. But, as time went on, I realized that many of us are soloists. Sure, there is the similar stripe but it is oh so temporary.

I have stuck myself firmly to the cities for a decade, hoping that I would, one day, move on to find my people only to find that maybe it isn't so bad being a soloist. And, if I ever feel so alone, I can always wander about and meet people, even if for only a brief moment.

Our ancestors seemed destined to remain amongst each other until they weren't. That sounds simplistic but they could walk parallel for as long as they saw fit, or, as their rare few numbers did, venture beyond the safety of the knowing.

So, maybe someday, I shall pack what is important and head off into the world, riding it solo, keep searching for my tribe. But if I never find them, it is okay. I had fun while I was on the journey.

Infographic by College Scholarships.org

Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury

Drain brain

So, in the world of status updates and micro-blogging, we have decided, at least a good majority of us, that we need to drain our brain's contents onto the world.

I can only imagine how our ancestors would see this, even our distant relatives. Of course, we all are hooked on it, even if few would ever admit to it. We are seeking out some sort validation because, frankly, not many of us are so keen to journal our daily observations into clear prose that a mass audience would want to digest.

What I find funny about some of my friends, I will name then Girl and Boy for simplicity, who both use the social media as a way to drain their thoughts and, of course, my thoughts on the matter.

Girl is a friendly enough person with a fun personality, in real life that is. However, armed with Facebook and Twitter, or even texting, for that matter, she is vague and showy and seems to have an urge to just say whatever is on her mind, whether it is relevant, arbitrary or, in some cases, seems to urge the audience to have to prod the answer out of her (which, if you don't have a text plan, can cost a bit).

Also, quoting someone famous is not clever, at least in this decade.

As for Boy, he is a nice enough person in real life, intelligent, artistic, articulate. But when it comes to Twitter, I have no idea what he is saying or doing, but he does it a lot with hash tags so, I guess, maybe he just wants some attention.

Which brings me to my real point. Being relevant is only important if you mean it. After all, a shallow relationship is just that. If I stop caring about what you have to say, think about those that really only checked out what you were saying because, at one point, you said something clever.

I used to talk at length about nothing. I am so lucky Twitter wasn't around when I was medicated, otherwise I would have been at the million Tweet mark but with nothing new to say.

And so I beg, tell your friends that they need to say something, not just spew their thoughts because, often, it is the mystery that makes one want to come back.