Some of the fine folks on Twitter have taken exception with Tweets that suggest they voted for an incompetent conman who is demented, delusional, deranged and dangerous.
They have expressed their displeasure and distaste for my unwillingness to agree and or accept their opinions as fact but that is not how I operate.
I won’t wear a sweater because you are cold or admit you are right just to make you feel better.
Confession: I might have jumped off of my high horse so that I could play in the mud with the other muckrakers.
“Sometimes you have to submit and accept your beating.”
That line brought out a certain kind of smile across my face, the kind that friends and family know means I am ready to engage in some mischief.
I cannot confirm nor deny having set out to infuriate a few of the minions who thought they could beat me down by calling me names.
Am I really going to let some pixels on a screen make me feel badly about who I am?
Nope, there may be some areas where I tell the kids to do as I say and not as I do but this isn’t one of them.
The nightmares that wake me up, they are never about random Tweets people send calling me an idiot for launching into discussions about Gitlow V. New York or Miller V. California as part of discussions about the NFL and kneeling.
That is not to say I haven’t taken on the crap flinging monkeys by throwing crap back but a good part usually is lined with fact.
It is easier to be snotty and climb back upon the high horse when you know people are irked because they can’t handle the facts and or willfully blind.
I am standing in a waiting room in a sterile looking office, ear buds in my ears listening to a Neil deGrasse Tyson book. It is called Astrophysics for People in a Hurry and most days I find it interesting but I can’t focus on it.
There are bigger issues pulling at the back of my mind, demanding I give them attention.
A man taps me on the shoulder and tells me they are ready to see me.
I am shocked by how quickly I switch gears and how easily this other invisible mask covers my face. They haven’t any idea of the storm swirling behind my eyes and for a few moments I don’t either.
A short time later I walk towards an exit sign listening to Pink sing What About Us and a random thought crosses my mind.
If you put her, Lady Gaga and Adele in a room and tested them to see who has the most powerful voice who would win?
I am not an expert on music, but none of them seem to require the same amount of support from electronics as other artists do.
That is something I appreciate and respect.
It reminds me of some videos people have posted showcasing Freddy Mercury’s voice. He could flat out sing.
If you put him and the women in a room and asked them to perform without instruments or support they could probably put on a good show.
Freddy is long gone, so we’ll never know what could have been and so like so many of my questions it will go unanswered.
Hive Minds & Echo Chambers
One of the tweeters told me I think I am one of the white hat wearing good guys and that I ought to suck it up and accept that I am not.
Well, they were right about me not wearing a white hat.
But the other comments, not so much, not that I bothered to try and dissuade those Kool-Aid drinkers who can’t come from outside of the echo chambers their hive mind requires.
I am a pretty good team player but I am also pretty good about keeping my own company and counsel.
That has led to a life long battle between following rules and anarchy. It is why I don’t think of myself as belonging to a one party or another.
I want to vote based upon who has the best stance and approach to issues and not solely because of party affiliation.
The fun on Twitter never ends and the Tweeting in response to what I have said or responded to doesn’t want to end.
But my responses are growing fewer and farther between.
The silence towards some is intentional.
I declare victory and go silent.
It drives some people crazy and their tweeting grows more frantic.
Sometimes I come out of the woodwork to point out I won. It is childish and silly but with the crap going on elsewhere there is a certain relief that comes from pounding upon them.
But most of the time I just walk and or begin blocking them.
The blocking isn’t how I usually like to play things but I don’t have time to engage with everyone and some of the nonsense has moved to the land of nasty.
Those conversations aren’t going to move anyone into adopting a new position and that’s enough reason to walk.
Might as well go run with the moon.
Echo In My Head
The bruise on my back and my side are gone but sometimes I find myself absentmindedly rubbing them the way I imagine amputees touch missing limbs.
There is an echo in my head that replays the screams.
A room in which I hear and remember all that happened with greater clarity than I want, but I won’t focus on trying to drown it out.
Let it play for as long as it chooses to stay and it will go sooner than if I try to bury it.
That is the benefit of decades of dancing in the fire.
It is what happens when you offer your hand and are refused and or when you refuse to take the hand that is offered to you.
I apologized but sorry didn’t fix what was broken.
Fear came to visit a short time later and made itself comfortable in a room it commandeered for its own use but I ignored it.
When he told me he had no plans on killing himself I heard fear start moving and wondered if there was a way to wrap the chain around its neck.
The confirmation wasn’t just what I wanted to hear, it was what I expected.
You ask if you’re hearing what you want or the truth.
Truth is a funny, malleable thing.
It can be twisted and stretched in any number of ways–but in some areas there is no flexibility.
Things are or they aren’t.
Maybe I wear the black hat because I am the villain or maybe I wear it because it is a talisman that helps me swim upstream.
Doesn’t matter if it works or not as long as you think it does.
Sometimes you have to submit to not knowing and see where the mystery leads you.