Most of us know, deep down, what’s wrong and what’s right. As we get older, we find all a myriad of mechanisms that we employ to begin lying to ourselves. Eventually, we find it difficult if not impossible to honor truth in our lives.
One avenue I could take in a post like this is to illustrate how American culture allows us to become comfortable with all the lies of omission we tell ourselves, without even touching on the other side of the coin—outright deception and peddling falsehood.
For years I’ve had a blog. On my blog I’ve invested effort and energy in writing regular posts ranging between 500 to 1,000 words, often topping 1,500 and even much longer pieces on a host of topics: American dysfunction, books, writing, politics, history, indie music, reinvention, religion—and lately, the fallout that accompanies tragedy, which is grief, loss, and mourning. I’ve always tried to write honestly, with conviction, and I’ve prided myself in writing things that could be verified and validated by fact. If not filled with factoids and research, they were rooted in personal experience.
Facebook has made it all-too-easy for people to denigrate fact-based dialogue. It’s the digital equivalent of spending an afternoon at the beach, building an ornate sand castle, and then, someone coming along and destroying it, and laughing in your face. Maybe even going, “na, na, na, na, na—I ruined your sand castle.” Far too many counter thoughtful writing with a few words, a couple of sentences, and then, purposely or because they lack the ability to think and reason, fail to follow along with even the simplest responses to their inanity. The poster child modeling this is now president of the United States.
For months, I’ve entertained “blowing up” my social media accounts, especially Facebook. But instead, I’ve persisted in trying to have reasoned dialogue with people who are unreasonable. Yes, I’ve used it to post links to my blog posts, but in truth, it hasn’t dramatically boosted my blog stats.
This afternoon, I’ve made the decision to step away from it.
I’m tired of the back and forth that never ends. I’m tired of the time it robs me of that would be better served reading, exercising, or doing something else—anything would be better, and make me feel less crappy than time spent on Zuckerberg’s bulldozer.
Done running from Zuckerberg’s bulldozer.
People will read this and wonder, “is Jim okay?” They are often the very same people who feign friendship and concern when it involves nothing more than a mouse click or pushing a button on their smartphone, but never,ever think to use the same device to call or send me an email, much less visit.
For the small tribe of people in my life that do care and have been there for me over the past 20 months, I’m actually doing pretty well. The fall’s off to a positive start. I’m back tutoring, gearing up for another Medicare Annual Enrollment Period, and spending another day or two weekly doing something brand new that relates to education and trying to positively impact youth. I also may even be conducting defensive driving training in the near future.
I miss Mark each and every day. There will always be times when I’m overwhelmed with losing him. I’ll never get over that. But he would want me to go on with my life, I think. That’s what I’m working on and moving through the aftermath of losing a one-in-a-million kind of son.
Perhaps I’ll come back to Facebook at some point. I’m not sure.
If you are someone I care to remain connected with, you know where to find me.