When It Comes

I find it interesting, the fervor with which the population has stood in opposition to this gravest of changes in our social fabric. This devastating shift has brought my co workers and friends to their knees. "Please, don’t change our signs!" they cry. And I find it all very interesting. People in my life, intelligent, somewhat functional human beings feel as though they have been cut from the one strong cord holding them to the earth and  to each other. How tenuous must have been the grip we all had on our personalities to start with. How fragile, failing. The end of the world won’t be born of earthquakes or hurricanes. It will come from our own hands and technology and swollen mouthed screams about the injustice of insignificant things. Many directions I want to take this, but the most of these being the outright, ragged fatigue I feel toward people who can mobilize and blog and shout and organize because of a shift in the paragraph you read in the paper. The same people – blind to famine and war and political toxicity. Blind to one another and blind to the things that are making us ill and depressed and dying in hundreds. But awake, nay, ALERTED, hypervigilent to every pulsing blood vessel that feeds our narcissism. BRING BACK THE OLD FACEBOOK! It makes my self-representation much more cohesive and meaningful, I am not whole without it! We can’t switch phone companies! Verizon represents me as a human being, my failings and successes, the full richness of who I am at my core! Do you know they changed the design of my deodorant? It no longer fits into my experience of who I am, it has thrown off my entire world. Nonsense judgments I hear those around me making daily. Fiery indignation cast out onto inanimate objects that dared taint the feeble fabric of who we are. The arguments and blog postings I’ve read about the NEW SIGN FIASCO. How will we ever define ourselves now? People participating in heated arguments, trying to understand the physics of the matter, educating themselves in order to form a better argument. A better case for keeping a fucking label. Near religious hatred. For some shapes and a line in the paper. God if only we could care so much about things that matter. This force and heat are powerful and create changes in the energy in the universe. I can only dream about mobilization and argument for a reason. A purpose. Anything. Fuck. Whatever you want. Care about hydrofracking. Get pissed off about health care, on either side. Educate yourself about all the fucking violence. Write about the hate we have for each other. Care about that so much that you want to learn about it, want to scream about it, want to fight somebody about it. Have passion about something that doesn’t have to do with your image, your personality, your general schema. I’m tired of the pointless banter, exhausted by it. Starting to again experience the existential drain I felt in my youth. And I feel responsible for it, produced by it. I can’t control it. I can’t save it. Perhaps horoscopes in addition to defining your personality, your strengths and weaknesses, your love matches, should start to include your stance on social issues, environmental issues, religious issues. Liberals, Hindus, anti-coal mine people, pro life people, spread evenly across the zodiac, included in the paragraphs in the Sunday paper. Would people care then? Would they begin to integrate these causes into their genetic code like they have other meaningless data? I am a Leo – fiery, independent, social and unwaveringly pro sex education in schools! It’s who I am! Just a thought. We’re fed so much nonsense that becomes who we are, why not make it meaningful. I’m as mad at myself as anyone, anything. I started ranting because I caught myself googling "new sign sham" and looking feverishly for some explanation of the things I’d heard. Halfway through, I started to see the strings, the connections, the sickness of it all. As affected as anyone. I suspect many people have a moment when they are in mid-rant about a TV show cancellation or moving of a department store when they catch a glimmer, however brief, of the riciculousness of it all, the unimportance. I think they catch the scent of it. I think we all do. But we end up shaking it off, comfortable in the role, in the community we find  bitching about something meaningless. If we had an endless supply of energy and force to bitch about things, and we from time to time fought about something important, then I wouldnt care about the anti-zodiac blogs. But we don’t. I believe our power is finite and used for bullshit reasons mostly. More than anything I wanted to put consideration for all of this out there. Just a thought. A challenge.