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Sunday, March 27, 2016

Super Heroes are for Comics

Somehow I am becoming crotchety in my dotage. With each passing day I see the need to move aside to let the younger ones rise. I am too old to toil. Though in truth I am too damaged. I've torn both hamstrings, one at least has permanent damage and one knee has seen the wrong side of gravity. It is crunchy and loose. These omens bespeak of pending evil. I see the need to move on, to seek employment that is not so labor intensive.

I see the need for much.

At this point though, I see little means of remaining relevant. A change of scenery, pace, life... and undoubtedly, those who remain fast in their belief that the mind is everything of power and direction will see what I need most is an attitude adjustment. While I do not disagree, I also need to be around people who don't have that persistent negativity going on. How can I remain positive when those around me are consistently negative?

This begs the question: why is negativity so easy to spread than positiveness? We don't enjoy being miserable so why is that the emotional default?

Humans are their own worst enemy. We get in our own way faster than someone else can. And we destroy faster than we create. Why can we not build something together as a monument against hate? Why can't we build a significant monument of Lady Liberty's caliber to peace, coexistence? Why do we try so hard to destroy with hate? Why do we not rally but separate as with the Trump Wall should that ever be built? We spent the 80s trying to tear down walls and trying to be the United Colors of Benneton. Now we, collectively as a species, would throw that all away.

What happened to unity?
What happened to happy?
Why is joy reserved for the youthful or the idiotic?
Why can we not get along?

I feel the need for some Super Hero type strength. But I am worn down. And I am a bit jaded by a youth of wistfulness and wishful thinking. I'd love to have a mutant superpower. One that lets me leap the labors of my position with enough energy to do something fun. Or at least with less damage to my body so that I can sleep at night. Nothing really excites me anymore. Not a new season of Castle, not a new Castle novel, new colored pencils, a new writing magazine, or pottery for the food blog displays. Nothing is exciting.

I have crossed over to the realm of the Curmudgeonly.

How can that be?

I overheard two kids animatedly going on and on about a character in their favorite series, Transformers. During the course of the animated discussion I recognized the giddy excitement that I used to have for Star Trek the Next Generation. For anything Star Trek. And I just wanted him to shut up. I wanted to scream at him that no one cares if the canon is right. No one cares who did what and how much he loves Megatron. I just wanted him to shut up the way everyone always wanted me to shut up about Star Trek.

How did I get to this point? How did I lose that enthusiasm for things that make you think? How did I become such a crab apple?

From being surrounded by negativity?
From middle age?
From the rigors of struggling to keep from being homeless?
The struggle to live a life of poverty, or was it the acceptance that my life was reduced to mere struggle?
Am I worn out from all the toil? Physical? Mental? Intellectual?
Am I worn out from pretending to be something I am not?

I am worn out and I don't know from what.

I only know that I have slid into a place where Super Heroes are for Comics, Comics are for kids and Geekdom is losing it's shiny.

How could everything change so much without my noticing it until now?

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