\u2026 For something as seemingly infinite as the internet, things are starting to feel a bit crowded around here. Stifling to the point of suffocation. <\/p>\n
If you\u2019ve ever ended a long distance relationship you understand the small solace found in knowing you\u2019ll never be subjected to those painfully awkward moments of running into each other in public and enduring the strained exchanges that follow. <\/p>\n
But there\u2019s no escaping the internet. Facebook is six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Everyone is a friend of a friend and it\u2019s where all the people you\u2019d rather not ever hear from again live. It\u2019s in your face. All day. Being linked to, shared, liked, and followed. Yes, it is very much possible for the internet to be too small for two people to share. <\/p>\n
Compound that claustrophobic feeling with having to adopt the pretense of not caring, being mature, and appearing aloof. I\u2019m cool. It\u2019s cool. We can share this corner of the internet amicably. All the while, inside you are dying to pour out your heart, express your hurt, stamp your feet, and hold your breath. Instead you exchange disingenuous pleasantries like, \u201cIt\u2019s nice to see you\u2019re doing well. Good to hear from you. Congratulations on your [insert accomplishment]\u201d because it\u2019s not polite or mature to say \u201cGo away. You hurt me\u201d. Never mind that the latter is a healthier response. <\/p>\n
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I can\u2019t remember the last time anything I posted here gave me joy. <\/p>\n
I\u2019ve devoted far too much time to politics. I\u2019ve been on a steady intravenous diet of news. It\u2019s as inescapable and as unwelcome as an ex. Politics is worse; however, in that it always leaves me feeling like I need a shower. Toxic and soiled. I sincerely believe politics is the soul\u2019s poison. Which makes it\u2019s strange why I chose to aggressively push it on my readers and expose myself to it at an almost non-stop pace. Maybe it\u2019s a self destructive form of escapism. Like cutting. If I focus on the world\u2019s problems mine own will seem small and insignificant in comparison. <\/p>\n
There was a time when writing gave me infinite joy. It was source of expression and an emotional outlet. I would scour the internet looking for beautiful art, funny pictures of nuns, and music videos to share. I would write about books & travel; all the things I love most. I was sharing beauty- something the world disparately needs more of. <\/p>\n
But that didn\u2019t get pageviews. And I was very hungry. Quite literally. Pretty art posts didn\u2019t keep me in the news feeds or generate enough interest. I wrestled with being a sell out. It\u2019s wasn\u2019t really getting paid for writing that I considered \u201cselling out\u201d so much as the fact that I compromised my writing to earn that income. After awhile, if you are honest with yourself, you start to feel like a charlatan peddling snake oil \u2013 intentionally writing about controversial topics; contributing nothing more than fanning the fires of discontent and mass hysteria. <\/p>\n
Remember; every talking head, blogger or pundit that gets paid is at times going to be very strongly motivated by that income. I am no exception. Shakespeare\u2019s got to get paid, son.<\/p>\n
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Did you know the only medication my ailing, disabled mother can receive 100% free of charge is artificial birth control? And she doesn\u2019t even have a uterus! <\/p>\n