(replace 2010 with 2013 – wherever applicable. Thank you for watching 🙂
I’m sure you all feel it too: the year drawing to a close. 2010 has been quite the year – elation, horror, anger, happiness, frustration, and a lot of laughter. Some of it in pure self-defence. But mostly I’ve had a sense of withdrawal, disconnectedness – like I’m walking through something without quite being part of it.
It feels as if I’ve curled in on myself for protection – mostly because I really don’t have what it takes to accept much of what I hear and see every day. I guess you could call me a wuss, but if you knew me, you’d know that I’m not scared of a fight. No.
And that’s the hardest part – I don’t mind a decent throw-down drag-out fight, but it has to end. There have to be safe places to fall, drinks and laughs to let the bruises heal, and times when you just lie on the grass in a disorganised, happy heap and watch the clouds form Disney shapes.
That’s what’s missing. And if it isn’t in you, you can’t make it up. People can fake all sorts of things, but love and joy are not among them. And without love and joy, guys, there’s just nothing to fight for. Not for me, anyway.
What does all this mean? It means that today I found myself doing what I’ve been doing for months now – finger-wagging, arguing and pleading all over Letterdash in a couple of issues that have fundamental implications for us as a city, and as a nation.
Which issues? Seriously, it doesn’t actually matter for the purposes of this post – it could have been any one of the debates over the last three-and-a-half years – tolerance for other people’s beliefs, an objective respect for the law, when culture breaks the law and becomes the worst part of religion, why knee-jerk hate comments play into the hands of those with the worst intentions for SA, blah, blah, blah…
The point is that I don’t have time to watch the clouds, there are so few chances to laugh and no-one really gets a chance to heal. And it’s not about you, or me. It’s the times, it’s a post-traumatic how-to-survive-another-night-of-bombing mindset that has started to poison our hearts, and it’s damaging me.
I don’t know the answer – I don’t know how to look at the reports that flash across news screens and not get involved. I don’t know how to walk on by when there are things that are so terribly wrong.
Mostly, I don’t know how to pretend that there are no answers, that things have always been this way – as long as I’m alright, Jack. I don’t know how to put a glamorous spin on naked emperors.
The problem is, it makes me seem like a bleak and carping storm-crow, and who needs that, right?
So, I go to find some joy. When I do, I shall bring it back with me.