It was recently brought to my attention that perhaps I am guilty of concerning myself too much with what happens to others…things that don’t directly affect me, I guess. Social issues mainly. Let me assure you, this criticism is actually something I am mulling over. I am already fully aware I can seem angry sometimes from some of my posts. And I AM angry. I think sometimes I was a lot happier before I spent so much time online and became hyper-aware of how much hate there still is in this supposedly great country. It makes me frustrated I can’t do more to change it, which is one of the reasons I write. But I don’t think the things I am usually upset over are stupid. Most are social issues that are farther reaching than just the impact they have on me personally. If nothing else, this is the world my child, my daughter, must grow up in and that scares me sometimes. The hate scares me. The flagrant disregard for feelings and in many cases, life. And by writing, I not only get to get some of the poison out of my system, I think deep down somewhere I can educate just ONE person, change just ONE mind. Sometimes I write about “big” things (religion, gay rights, women’s rights, etc.) Some times I impart info that may seem insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It may be something as small as me trying to convince someone not to squish a spider or kill snake out of reactionary fear or revulsion. I’m trying to effect a positive change, even a small one. I care about these things. And yet I DO have to pick and choose what to care too much about or else I’d go nuts (more nuts.) Choose my battles, so to speak.
Also, as much as I bitch, which I will admit is quite a bit, I do also try to put positive things out there too. Art, for one. Fiction and poetry. I love animals and I like to pass things on regarding animals, especially goofy cat and dog memes, because they make me smile and I want to make others smile. I love to laugh and I love to make people laugh.
So I apologize if I seem to complain a lot. I have always found angst and anger lubricate my writing skills a lot better than fluffy bunnies and summer breezes or whatever. But that does not mean that is all I am. But if it bothers you too much, you can always stop reading. I may be sorry to see you go. But then I’m going to go watch Scrubs and pet my cat.