When Bad Things Happen

It's easy to be angry. To throw accusations. Call names. Tear people apart. It's easy to judge. And to want to hurt the people who have caused such pain. It's easy to condemn an entire religion. Race. Sex. Creed. Easy to hate. To hate what we don't understand. To hate what we don't like. Hate what hurts us. What scares us. To hate what is different. And what we cannot control.

It's hard to love in times such as these. In a world such as this. Harder to have understanding in the face of grief. To nod our heads but open our hearts. To show compassion. Be guided by empathy. Sympathy. Have forgiveness for others. To not understand, but not be blinded by that confusion and frustration. To move with love instead of hate.

My thought is that happy, well-adjusted, healthy people don't shoot other people. The unhappy, unhealthy, displaced and broken people do. And those are the ones that need love the most. Even if that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth.

We move forward with love. Backwards with hate.

To Hell With Positive Thinking

You know, the thing about positive thinking is, in order for it to be effective you kind of need a sign every once in while that it's actually working. I mean, I'm not a scholar or whiz kid, but I'm pretty sure in order for us to stay on the 'you need rain to make a rainbow' train, you actually need to see a rainbow. Right? Like a little break would be nice. A small one. A teeny tiny sign that good things are on route. 

The truth is, it's exhausting trying to look on the sunny side of things. Keeping your chin up is hard work when a metric ton of stress is bearing down on you. It's virtually impossible to have a stiff upper lip all the time. Sometimes you don't want to keep swimming. Sometimes you want to shuck off your water wings and give in to the riptide of negativity. Allow the sea of annoyance and grumpiness to wash over you. Submerge in anger. Wallow in melancholy. Drown in pessimism. 

Instead of smiling and saying things like, "It can only get better", which is an outright lie because it actually can get worse, you want to snarl, snap and shout a big eff you to the big blue sky, maybe even throw a middle finger up, just in case someone is watching. 

Of course, there are hiccups for all of us on this road to life, for sure. Troubles are not unique to me, nor are they to you. Yes, it is always optimal to maintain your hopefulness and to remain cheerful in the face of strife, but sometimes that's just not feasible. Sometimes smiling and saying 'everything happens for a reason' is downright impossible. Once in awhile, it's okay to get mad. To be agitated and enraged. You don't always have to be pleasant. Sometimes you have to let the world know you aren't happy with the way things are working out. In fact, you're utterly unimpressed with how the situation is unfolding and would like your time and money back, if possible. 

Sure, it's important to remain upbeat and carry on, to struggle through the rough times and remind yourself 'this too shall pass'. That doesn't mean it isn't equally important to slam the door to your bedroom and hide under your covers for a couple days. To eat a pint of ice cream. Dodge your mother's phone call. Or write a snarky post about giving up on positive thinking and embracing the negativity you've been beating away with a stick.

It's warm and familiar in this cocoon of discontentment.

As the elevens grow deeper on my forehead and my face slips easily into a mask of dissatisfaction, I relax into my 'this sucks' attitude. For tonight, I stew, immersing myself in irritation and pulling up the 'leave me alone' blanket. I will turn inwards and question why I even bother, feel foolish for caring, and mock all the eager, go-getter thoughts I've had through this worrisome week. The loveliness will be put on the back burner, the hold button pushed, and I will be a ball of irate wretchedness. 

Tomorrow I will wake up and return to the positive, but tonight to hell with it.   

This Is A Terrible Blog

Isn't it amazing how people act when they are faceless and nameless. Behind a moniker, handle, and secret avatar, we can be anyone, do anything, and say whatever we want. We have the freedom to be kind or mean - and it's always interesting those who lean towards mean. Of course, if you're being nice, there's no need to hide behind anonymity, is there? No, of course not. It's only for snarky comments and insults that people hide their identities.

This evening I received a comment on my blog. Two sentences. Ten words. Five words to each sentence. Very clearly meant to be insults. Truthfully, they have a stark sort of honesty to them. 

This is a terrible blog. You are a horrible writer. 

While I suppose I should be upset, or at least feel as if I've been virtually slapped in the face, I actually laughed when I read it. Not because it isn't mean, because it most certainly is. I laughed because I instantly thought of the age old saying 'consider the source'. When I was young, I used to get upset by names people called me. Believe it or not, I was very sensitive and these insults hurt. They bothered me. As I grew up, I learned the importance of considering the source, and eventually confronted the fact that I really don't care what most people think of me. Caring about such things is a waste of time and energy, two things I don't have unlimited resources of. 

Fat. Ugly. Dumb. Manly. These opinions didn't matter to me. Not because they weren't valid, certainly the other person perceived me as such (maybe - the art of name calling is such a fickle thing. Sometimes the individual being a meany pants doesn't actually believe the things they say. Sometimes they are just trying to get a reaction.) Actually, the reason these opinions didn't matter to me was because the source was an untrustworthy one. They weren't people I knew, talked to, or cared about. So, why should what they say affect me? Why should I lose sleep over the opinions of sheep? (That being said, I quite like sheep)

That was in real life, though. How does this apply to the internet? Well, when I saw this comment on my blog, I laughed because I can't even consider the source. The source is anonymous. Sure, I can go to stat counter and see where it was posted (the Vancouver Public Library), how long they spent on my blog (a minute and a half), where they came from (Facebook) and what else they viewed (just the Wordy Wednesday blog). So, not as anonymous as one might hope, but enough for me to not actually know who this person is. Not really.

They are in fact faceless and nameless. A nobody. An insignificant piece of fluff in a virtual universe they probably can't even comprehend. They chose to be anonymous and in doing so rendered their opinions worthless. Weightless. Insignificant. Because they are the opinions of nobody. And who is bothered by the thoughts of no one?

Except, then I got to thinking, which is never a good thing. Is this anonymous run by commenting a random act of insulting? Or is it more personal? Does this person know me? Or not? Did they come from my personal Facebook? Or my writerly page?

These are things I can't answer, but I've come up with these two scenarios:

Scenario 1: This is someone I know. Who came from my personal Facebook. A once upon a time friend, who hates everything I've ever penned, who  came to their breaking point tonight after suffering years of my blogs. So, at 7:40PM on a Thursday night, they head out to the Vancouver Public Library and craft the most honest two sentences they will ever say to me.

For sure, I hope this isn't the case. After all, I'd rather they just remove me from Facebook and ignore my blog. That being said, now I kind of feel bad for laughing at their comment. I mean, maybe it's more valid than I initially gave it credit. Still, I picture them hunkered down at that public computer, punching down on the keys, and I hope they got at least a little satisfaction when they posted it.

Scenario 2: Some stranger is biding their time at the VPL this evening and stumbles upon my blog. After a quick minute and a half, they come to the conclusion that the blog is terrible and I am horrible. Instead of simply keeping their thoughts to themselves, they decide to hide behind anonymity and try to insult me. Sadly, it doesn't work, not only because they are a nobody to me, literally because they didn't even put in their first name, but because their conclusion seems unfounded. Okay, I might be a bit bias because I actually like my writing, for the most part, but they spent a mere minute and a half on my page. With a 371 word blog, they'd have to read 4.12 words a second. Now, that's not unheard of, after all speed readers can read even faster, but I highly doubt ninety seconds is enough time for this particular individual to read and absorb the genius of my last post.

Thus, in conclusion, if you put anonymous on something, be prepared for there to be no power in your punch. These blogs are mostly for myself, still I understand people sometimes swing by for a gander. I apologize if they aren't up to your standards, but I seriously try my best. Except on Wednesdays, obviously. In the end, I feel bad for this VPL reader. Kind of like, I wish they had something better to do on a Thursday night. I am under the understanding that happy people don't do things like this. Happy people spread kindness. Not meanness.

As I sit here, I wish I could give this person a hug. Because I think they might just need one.

Wise words by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Retrain Your Brain