Tag Archives: change

Target Practice

The infighting. The discontent. The disrespect. The degradation. The carelessness. The greed. The grab. The garbage. The crooked eye. The cold shoulder. The single finger. The dismissal. The impatience. The blind acceptance. The blind refusal. The blinding inaccuracies. The stranglehold. The manipulation. The lack of empathy. The lack of sympathy. The lack of hope. The accountability. The detachment. The illiteracy. The false expectations. The absence of momentum. The ritual. The routine. The handcuffs. The spinning. The perpetual dance along the edge. The folding cards. The misdirected energy. The zombie impersonation. The indifference. The distance. The dispassion. The vitriol. The venom. The vindictiveness. The spite. The grudge. The resentment. The poison. The hurting. The incessant accumulation of things. The gluttony. The materialism. The ego. The skewed perception of self-importance. The myopism. The fallacy of focus. The shaky grasp. The shaking fear. The indignation. The fury. The rage. The fire. The bitterness. The pettiness. The pervasive sloppiness. The diet. The death. The disease. The prison. The pain. The cages. The theft. The misappropriation. The fraud. The falsehoods. The subjugation. The exploitation. The hedonism. The excess. The waste. The ignorance. The false sense of security. The constant compromise. The deliberate trivialization. The subversion. The animus. The belief that there is never a way out of the maze.

A new year. A new day dawning. Let’s be better.

Adolescence Interrupted

Groaning Pains

For years, I felt a mounting, suffocating disillusionment with the future direction of this country and the transparent apathy that seemed to only fuel a fire of hatred and inequality. Trapped in a plummeting elevator—destined to crash without an emergency brake—we stood stuck in some debilitating glue of inaction, waiting for someone to pull it.

Maybe it took thousands of deaths a day for us to realize that something had to change. Maybe the volatility of our quotidian safety or the cognizance that the greatest country on the planet was nothing but a fallacy built on tired, outdated notions of some unattainable dream was enough to snap us out of our opiate-induced haze and finally feel some pain. Maybe we simply grew tired of watching facts wobble and shake, forced to stand on cracked foundations in desperate need of some concrete. Or maybe being forced to wear the pawn’s high-collared uniform, made of aging wool, too brutally tested our tolerance for the itch.

As a self-described radical Socialist who thinks even Bernie is too far to the right, I had hoped we were ready to hit some detonators on this broken system and start fresh in every facet. But I’m willing to accept progress over regression, in any form I can get it. 

We have a population tattered, torn, and divided. Those wounds (imaginary or real) are not healed overnight. Anger and pain will persistently propel action. Information will be relentlessly manipulated and propagated.

There are always winners. There are certainly always losers. But I will continue to adamantly support whatever ultimately benefits the greater good.

When eggs are sacrificed for omelets, there’s no use spending time lamenting the splintered shells.

Adolescence Interrupted