Hitting that age where controversy stops making any sense.
I think the hardest part about aging is dealing with the acceleration of time. That period between waking and sleeping seems to shrink. I’m doing what I can to slow it down, changing scenery, and trying new things, but its an uphill battle. My eyes start out tired and before I know it they are dry and ready for another night’s sleep. It’s funny, a sad comedy, but a comedy nonetheless.
I’ve been consistently culling who I follow on twitter because I found that controversy has become another thing that washes over me. Just like my commute, or meals, the act of being offended or listening to the offense of others has been rendered numb. It’s not because I don’t care, I genuinely do, but that the bar for offense has continued to go so low that I can’t really join in. I wonder then if this is what age is. Where you start is the world at your birth and with each passing decade you adjust with offense and cultural shifts. But then one day it goes beyond what you can handle. Maybe because your own mind has become so lacking in elasticity that to tug any further would break the band.
But here I am. A man grumbles lightly for 11 minutes about Nintendo and people are up in arms on Twitter. Pokemon asks if you are a boy or a girl and people on tumblr lose their mind. These things I know have always existed. Like the red storm of jupiter they have churned long before I was born and will exist long after I die. What happens now is that we finally have the tools to render them clearly. These things that have effectively always been are now crystal clear.
And much like Jupiter they are alien to me. I see so many offenses and so many small splinter groups that I realize I can’t keep up. Too many things, too many small dents in the armor. Worse still that very knowledge becomes its own offense. Comments and images about how “its not just a book” or “its not just a game” because it can never be. Everything means something bigger. Everything is something deeper.
There can never be simply a day on the beach. The curtains are not simply blue. They are a symbol of the deep depression of the author. Pushed through the space between every letter.
It’s weird to me. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I try but it keeps feeling preposterous. Social Networking is something I try my best to steer clear of these days. Not the least of which because of what I’ve said above. The overlap between people who want to relax and people who are active on these services is extremely thin. The most active people are also the most passionate and this combination leads to a lot of collateral damage.
I mean hell. Trevor Noah made some jokes four to five years ago and people are still bringing it up. As if anyone offended has never said anything sarcastic or rude to another living person. Sure “do as I say”, but the knowledge that you are no less flawed should be enough to stay off other people’s asses when they make minor oversteps.
But. It’s never minor.
Don’t know where I’m going with this beyond that. Maybe letting out all this curmudgeon in one quick burst will let me get back to what I enjoy. I’ll just need to sit down and maybe make a list of what that is.