We are on the brink of worldwide suicide. Social suicide, language forgotten, loss of all faith. Happy thoughts, aren’t they? We, as an American whole, spend our times watching our high-definition glowboxes and listening with blank faces to the news that the world has fallen down all around us. It takes so much blood and pain and gore to scare the average person now that it’s a miracle the “bad guys” can even surprise us anymore. If it weren’t for the paranoid schizophrenics and obsessive compulsive mothers we have left in the world, everyone left would easily believe that we are all safe because we’ve been exposed to all the terrible stuff.

As children, Americans are exposed to crime fighting cartoons and video games that are too realistic; as teens, exposed to mediocre music, sex, and the realization that we are going to turn into the same drones that are parents have now become; American adults have supposedly “seen it all, done it all, passed through it all and learned from it.” So why is it that the divorce rate in this country is higher than any other? Did you not see the cheating spouse? Had you not already experienced the fatal illness that sucked bank accounts and creativity out of one’s life?

All this exposure to blood and death, sex and currency, and war will soon allow us to become the worry-free emotionless skin bags that shuffle down the driveway, into our SUVs, to go to work at their cubicle, working for a fifty hours-a-week job that you had to kiss so much tail to get in the first place. We are going nowhere fast, and the bad thing is: we are aware. Scientists were the first to warn us that we were slowly killing ourselves with greenhouse gases and french fries,  but we didn’t want to listen; greenhouse gas buildup was an invisible threat that we cannot see to fight off, and fried food just tastes too good to pass up. No matter the arteries that are as clogged as the New York Subway Station, we’ll deal with that cancerous problem in thirty years when our colons are being removed and we need to take a big, pink pill twice a day every day for the rest of our lives. That’s the American dream.

We are on the brink of something that affects everyone, something that no one talks about except rebellious environmentalist and the paranoids: the end to all culture, all language, all “humanity” as we so call it. Humanity will be replaced by technology that will feed us, bathe us, clean for us, get the paper for us, learn for us, take care of our children for us, and clean up after us when we’ve become incompetent enough to not remember how to empty our own bowls properly. Technology will become “humas on batteries” that  take care of the shells of their original human creators. And once this technology takes us over, the shells will be disposed off without a second thought, because a machine cannot have a conscious or develop a guilt complex.

The time of great thinkers and philosophers is gone. In it’s place, the time of lazy, obscenely obese children and the forgotten memory of what was once considered music, talent, and art. It will one day be called “brilliant” and “dazzling” when one can make their own handprint in a ball of clay, or paint a picture of a one dimensional box. What happened in Gailileo’s time, in Beethoven’s, in Picasso’s, that made their so passionate and driven towards what they wanted? How were their children raised differently from ours now? Was it the concrete family values that they were raised on that made them stable enough to become great? Or was it the care and love scholars has for their pupil, how much they wanted them to learn and take their place as the brilliant minds of the age? Or were they just the lucky ones that picked the right century to be born into?

It is now considered a “happy” family if the wife and husband can go their entire lives without getting divorced. Ignoring the variables of where they live, what their kids turn into, what their tax income checks will be come February, or how their health is, if a couple has been together for eighty years without filing for divorce and/or cheating on one another, then they have been successful in marriage. Since when? Divorced used to be an ugly word that was against the “rules” of many religions. A child with divorced parents would gain sympathetic looks from their friends’ happy parents, and might be whispered to be homeless or poor. In some families, yet, you can still find the mommy and the daddy, the little brother, Timmy, and his older sister, Susan, with their lap dog Bruiser and their two-story white house in the suburbs.

I might just be seeing everything from a paranoid schizotypal’s point of view, a social outcast with divorced parents and no college fund, whose father lives in and out of the hospital, and whose future is decided on just how hard I can beat down the rest of  my schoolmates to get a top ranked spot for a nice school. (And even the valedictorian isn’t guaranteed a nice spot in college without financial backing, one year paid, maybe, but for those with no wealthy families to fall back on, they will end up working for those corporate bosses in that cubicle somewhere in the middle of smoggy downtown.

Our music has lost it’s art. Art and music are very much alike: they must invoke some type of emotion, or make you transport yourself to another time, or hypnotize you long enough for you to relax all your aching brain muscles. Now, the beats are what is important, and if you can’t bob  your head to it fashionably in the hottest club in the city, no one wants to listen to it.  Artists have stopped thinking about what they want to draw, and now focus on what others would like them to draw. You want to paint a city black with red windows and purple clouds on the horizon? No. That might give the wrong impression, and besides, who would by such a gloomy picture?

“Pulp fiction”, with both writing and art, is the only thing left to work with. No one wants to read the next Shakespeare, they want to know what happens when “Quarterback Jac” and his girl friend “Susan” get lost on the way home from the pep rally on a stormy night. You remember Susan, right? She’s gotten herself into some mischief now. Daddy might have to bail her out of jail for drinking under age, because no one should suffer the consequences of their actions if they have money, right?

We are all too afraid to have a voice, to make an impact, to stand out on our own with no back up or Plan B;  so we are going to allow ourselves, as an entire species, to die out. Whether we physically die, or just fall into a monotonous hole we won’t climb out of, is only up to the planet. If we create enough of that greenhouse gas we’re so oblivious to to melt the ozone and fry us all to death, that may be mother natures way of saying, ‘Here’s an easier way to go, at least you died with a little dignity.’ We need to start speaking out, letting our voice be known by the millions, not just the handful. Learn how to communicate with each other without cell phones and Ipod touchscreens. Ignore the latest fashion from Madrid, and MySpace, for humanity’s sake, and look at survival and keeping our sanity level. Walking to go see a friend down the street might make you a little tired, but it gets you off your bum and socializing with your fellow man. Speak to your friends, visit your families, take the sidewalk instead of the bus, and if you must drive, drive together and ask how each other’s lives are going. But you must truly care about how that other person is doing. Put passion and love into the things you do by truly commiting and believing in them, and do not do things just because you’re bored.
True art, and relationships, and thoughts may take time, but it is all so worth it when you consider the alternative.

9 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Nicole
    Jan 07, 2009 @ 01:16:25

    Very True, Amanda, Very True.

  2. amanda
    Jan 07, 2009 @ 01:19:47

    I tried to at least ORGANIZE this word-vomit before I typed it out.
    And thank you 🙂

  3. Julie Bailey
    Jan 07, 2009 @ 01:29:50

    “It is now considered a “happy” family if the wife and husband can go their entire lives without getting divorced.”
    I don’t want to get divorced, personally. I would love to get it right the first time and marry my “soul mate”. Now, honestly, I don’t believe in “soul mates”. But, I do believe in love. I believe in being in love with somebody so much that without them you just don’t feel right. You can’t exactly put your finger on what’s missing, but it’s them. And you may never discover that THEY were what you were missing that one day when you thought maybe you had left something in your car, but it was. I believe in fairy tales. I believe in deep love that can make you cry just to think about how much you love that person.

    If you know you aren’t supposed to be with that person, divorce them. IT’S OKAY. Don’t stay together just to please anybody else. But, I feel like maybe the world should have gotten it right the first time. I wanna be SURE that I’m in love before committing like that. I hope I’m not the only one.

    “Artists have stopped thinking about what they want to draw, and now focus on what others would like them to draw. You want to paint a city black with re windows and smoky clouds on the horizon? No. That might give the wrong impression, and besides, who would by such a gloomy picture?”

    I draw for PASSION. Anything I do is because of a PASSION.

    The world is always going to be in ruins. There will always be something worse. But, thinking about everything bad at once will only make it worse. Live for YOU, you know? It’s what I try to do. I try to live for everything I want to live for- not what other people want me to live for. If I want to try a dark house with windows, then, damn it, I fucking will. Expression is everything. I’m not going to live this depressing live that is depicted. Yea, I may be characterized as some of the things you listed above. I may communicate by texts instead of phone calls. I may practically live on the computer. I may love, love, love McDonalds and I may just be a little overweight.

    But, I don’t care. I don’t care. I’m loving the life that I have now. I am living my life to it’s highest expectations and I am living to the fullest amount that I human can live up to. In my mind, I’m living higher than that. I’m flying above the clouds!

    I may not have a rich apartment or designer shoes.
    Heck, I may grow up to live in a shack with only my dog and some pencils and paper.
    But, as long as I’m happy, I wouldn’t mind.

    This is the best post. It got me thinking.
    I love you. ❤

  4. amanda
    Jan 07, 2009 @ 01:55:08

    I am sure that you noticed that I frequently included “we Americans”, or “us”, or “ours”; because I am just like you — alot of the things in this post relate to me.

    And you also must understand that I was talking about Americans as a very wide, general standard. MOST commercial artists draw with a pulp fiction audience in mind, because people would rather see a “pretty picture” than see something that makes you think.

    PLEASE LOVE YOUR LIFE. Life is really quite short, and how are we supposed to fit all this awesome entertainment, people, food, experiences, laughter, opinions, cultures, and breathtaking views all in 75-80 years?!

    I wish more people drew like you. That they drew some things only for their eyes to see, and other pieces of art and drawings that they show for the whole world to see because they are proud of what they have accomplished, and what it means to them to get praise. I fully support that.

    Amazingly, I didn’t feel like a hypocrit writing this. I read so much pulp fiction my ears could explode — but I read quality too. I read the classics of Shakespeare the playwriter, Jane Austen’s fictions, the infamous Mark Twain — I just read to read, and enjoy every minute of it.

    And Julie, you, out of anyone in my life, know my addiction to the internet. It’s toned down 50% since the end to my roleplaying days, I now only roleplay with one person, and that’s through email, but I still wish I relied less on the internet.
    Interaction between two living human beings is far different than talking to each other over an electronic device. It is more efficient to use a cellphone or AIM, shoot, I’m using both right now, but it is not the ONLY way, and this new generation seems to be growing up not knowing that. My 5 year old nephew, David, knows how to surf MySpace better than any teenager I know. But he can’t read and write too good yet. 5 years old, and they’re already MySpace freaks! It took us till at least 13 or so.
    Live like you mean it, and love till you feel in the depths of your conscious soul; you always have.

    I’m just trying to get my life in that state of balance and fun and chill-ness that I need.

    And I love you too 🙂

  5. amanda
    Jan 07, 2009 @ 02:15:09

    Here’s an easier way to explain myself:
    EVERYTHING above the last paragraph in my post
    is the “alternative” the last sentence talks about. It’s what could happen, what is bound to happen in the not-so-distant future if we don’t kick something into gear.

  6. freehentaimovies
    Jun 25, 2010 @ 13:36:03

    Your post is great!

  7. amanda
    Jun 25, 2010 @ 17:45:17

    Thank you so much! (: It’s nice to see someone notice this post years later. 😀

  8. rendrez
    Nov 10, 2010 @ 01:45:08

    Wow… All I can say. You could definitely turn alot of heads with this. Ever think about spreading this verbally in a city?

  9. amanda
    Nov 10, 2010 @ 02:45:20

    If I were more of the confident, outspoken LOUD type, yes. Hopefully one day soon I will be able to do just what you’re describing.

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