What is it about January that sucks? Is it just post-holiday blues? Middle of the winter duldrums? State of the Union trepidations? This time of year everybody I pass has the same tired, melancholic visage. A sad, sagging smile. Weary, watery eyes. Everyone I speak with sounds worn-out, defeated. Even family members seem like strangers this time of year.
George Bush is sending more troops to Iraq, more men and women into the line of fire. It’s 3:30 in the morning and this is driving me crazy while George is known for turning in before 10:00. If I didn’t drink I’d probably be in bed before Leno too. If I was responsible for the deaths of so many of my country men and countless innocent Iraqis I don’t know if I could get as much shuteye as George, though. Like Mel Brooks said, “it’s good to be the king.”
Here’s one piece of advice if you’re up late, feeling depressed, looking for some hope, some inspiration that the world is a lovely place after all:
DON’T SURF THE INTERNET.
There’s nothing, absolutely zilch, online for someone with the blues.
Porn is too exciting. Too lively. Too fun. It requires you to become intuned with your animal side. It requires passion and blood movement. A depressive like me doesn’t want anything to do with carnal lust when I’m bummed by the state of the world. Not to mention you can’t get into it. Porn is about fantasy. Depression is about reality. When I’m in my Robert Johnson mode the last thing I want to do is consider the plight of a porn star, much less the visceral realities of a porn shoot: the dirty camera man, the lascivious director, the palty craft station; especially when I’m sporting a boner.
News is even more dangerous. Bombings. Natural Disasters. Global Warming. Bush. The Lakers losing by thirty. The news is nothing but endless examples of Man’s cruelty. 
Sometimes the delivering of the news itself is an example of Man’s failure as a species.
Even the “inspiring” stories often begin with a tragic incident. Girl Survives Horrific Shark Attack to Surf Again. Kid With Autism Sinks 3-Pointer. Sudanese Lost Boy Finds New Life in America.
Social Networking sites don’t help. At all. How many Chuck Norris jokes can you read before you start to believe there’s not one original person left in America? Seeing otherwise intelligent, thoughtful individuals posting droll answers to insipid surveys will make one grab for a large bottle of pills. I really don’t care who the last boy you kissed was or if you’ve ever thrown up before. I don’t.
Political Blogs will make you want to beat your head against a wall. Day after day the same comments, the same arguments. Left vs. Right. Libertarians vs. Socialists. Even on a unified blog little sub-cultures break out, us vs. themism, even on the same side. Makes a political junky cry to see soldiers in the same army boyonetting each other over semantical squabbles. But the major schism, the so-called “cultural divide”, which I believe is really no more than a failure to communicate, is truly saddening, and gut-wrenchingly awful. Watching families, co-workers, and friends argue and fight and develop hard feelings over differences of opinions is unbearable, especially when I’m feeling this way.
The problem, I believe, is it’s so easy to isolate yourself in this era of mass communication; you can choose which slant you want your news, which blogger you’ll believe, which clips you’ll watch, this one, or this one. We calcify our views and push those with differing ones away from us. Both sides do this. That doesn’t mean our views, or theirs, are then wrong or right. It just means we’re increasingly unable to find common ground, to even listen to the other side, because we both have so many voices agreeing with us that we can’t possibly be wrong.
Nader was incorrect when he said the Republican party and the Democratic party were essentially the same. He should have said democrats and republicans are essentially the same, because it’s true; because we both want what’s best for America, we both believe in Freedom, and we both want our children to grow up in a healthy, peaceful world.
End of story.
One day I’d love to see Daily Kos and Red State have a pot luck picnic in the park. With No Politics Allowed. Maybe a slushball game on a dirt diamond in the afternoon. A potato sack race in the evening.
If you don’t know what a slushball game is, think the combination of America’s two favorite pasttimes. From a distance we’d look like any other group of Americans, enjoying the park, tossing a frisbee, eating macaroni.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t find anything cheery on the Net tonight. Maybe that’s why I came around to this rosy image.
I guess if you don’t find anything inspiring you just have to create it yourself.
