The crazies in Syria threw a man they believed to be gay from a building and when he didn't die upon impact, others stoned him to death. This made me sad, then slightly angry, then numb. Apathetic and mildly annoyed. I didn't know where (how?) to start even thinking of a world where things like this occur. I knew that perhaps, I had heard of something similar on a TV show or another newscasts. Reality is too bizarre- some Japanese dudes were recently beheaded and now the Japanese president is angry.
I had no choice but to move on.
The news.
Background
noise.
I am flooded.
A vessel draining and filling.
Never sure what's coming in or going out.
Sufjan Stevens is bothered by Miley Cyrus's grammar. I mulled over the line, “Hold my place in line while I take your turn," while listening to the new Modest Mouse song. Fidel Castro is an old man. Some people are excited for McDonalds in Havana. Other people are not.
I am afraid of apathy, but do not have the energy for much else. Next week, I will go to Kenya. This feels useful and "compassionate." I will see my friend and spend time beneath the stars and in the wild and reconnect and disconnect.
They are talking about MOOCS again and social media and ethics and journalism and things that will be obsolete by 2020. The CIA and Google. Student Effectiveness. Spain and energy. Palestine and Ukraine. Today I sat with a boy and talked to him about effectively arguing his claim and explaining his evidence. I cam home and passed out.
Played Uno with the kids...(I'll soon eat some grapes and dark chocolate. I will savor the flavors and pretend to be living in the present. It feel good for a few seconds. I will remember the dead gay Syrian and know that nothing ever changes, we just enjoy our fruits when we can.)
...and now. These words. Each night feels the same in this brave new world which is not new or brave and barely considered a world. But guitars continue to make new sounds and this has to me something.
I listen to Sleater Kinney full blast and it helps:
We win, we lose
Only together do we make the rules
We live — say goodbye to your old way of life
I can breathe way up high, now it’s our turn to fly
I had no choice but to move on.
The news.
Background
noise.
I am flooded.
A vessel draining and filling.
Never sure what's coming in or going out.
Sufjan Stevens is bothered by Miley Cyrus's grammar. I mulled over the line, “Hold my place in line while I take your turn," while listening to the new Modest Mouse song. Fidel Castro is an old man. Some people are excited for McDonalds in Havana. Other people are not.
I am afraid of apathy, but do not have the energy for much else. Next week, I will go to Kenya. This feels useful and "compassionate." I will see my friend and spend time beneath the stars and in the wild and reconnect and disconnect.
They are talking about MOOCS again and social media and ethics and journalism and things that will be obsolete by 2020. The CIA and Google. Student Effectiveness. Spain and energy. Palestine and Ukraine. Today I sat with a boy and talked to him about effectively arguing his claim and explaining his evidence. I cam home and passed out.
Played Uno with the kids...(I'll soon eat some grapes and dark chocolate. I will savor the flavors and pretend to be living in the present. It feel good for a few seconds. I will remember the dead gay Syrian and know that nothing ever changes, we just enjoy our fruits when we can.)
...and now. These words. Each night feels the same in this brave new world which is not new or brave and barely considered a world. But guitars continue to make new sounds and this has to me something.
I listen to Sleater Kinney full blast and it helps:
We win, we lose
Only together do we make the rules
We live — say goodbye to your old way of life
I can breathe way up high, now it’s our turn to fly
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