“I let the small things go.”
“There’s a line in the movie: “When you jump into the unknown, you prove you are free.” Well, as an artist, I want to be free.”
Tuesday, November 12, 2024
TUESDAY THOUGHTS
Perhaps, the suggestion shouldn’t have been to “turn the page”.
It either implies that something new, different, or pleasant will be there, or that you'll be engaged with the same ol’ unresolved story— with no guarantee of edits, corrections, improvements, or changes. At what point does the reader realize that, whether they turn the page, or revisit previous pages—anywhere in the book—the story is repetitive, predictable, rigid, and ridiculously hypocritical?
We should know, by now, not to expect certain endings, although we are historically good at hoping and praying for them.
It’s disheartening when positive change, continued progress, or good, happy endings are promised (and are so close), but don’t materialize. A good ending shouldn’t be so rare, a shock, or a surprise. It shouldn’t feel ominous, or undeserving. It shouldn’t be conditional. Good endings shouldn’t feel like consolation prizes, or the bones you’re thrown before the boom is lowered.
Maybe, highlighting and salvaging the redeemable parts of the story, retiring, or throwing away the whole book, or reading a new one, would have been better suggestions. The old book, unfortunately, is predictable, and blemished through and through.
If the foundation of the story wasn’t built on truth, compassion, respect, or humanity, why continue the wishful thinking that the plot —or any subsequent characters— will ever change? Why search for, and dream of, or gather to discuss a love story, when the cover, spine, pages, and contents of the book have never pretended, nor alluded to being one?
Turn the page?
Nope.
What’s on the next page, and the pages after that, are the same old hate-filled illustrations and sentiments.
Instead of trying to amend sentences, cross out words, tear out whole chapters, pretend there’s a hero, or convince oneself that the book isn’t really about what it’s always been about, why not just acknowledge it for what it IS?
The pages are worn from being optimistically turned, yet corruption, hatred, ignorance, bigotry, greed, and indifference are always the unapologetic stars in line after line, and chapter after chapter. Just when you think good guys or better angels will finally appear on the next page, and save the day, they’re either blindsided, humiliated, cheated, debased, run off, exhausted, silenced, or destroyed.
The authors wrote it that way.
Too many readers like it that way.
A system is designed to keep it that way.
You don’t have to continue pretending it’s a good book, though. You can also acknowledge that wasn’t written for you. Read it for reference, not representation.
Learn everything you can, study those characters, make an honest analysis of the setting, then, put the book down.
Collect other books. Renew and retell the stories of the shamefully un-celebrated, that prove you've always had reasons to be proud, and representatives to emulate. Find new stories that aren’t a constant disappointment when you do turn the pages--and don't forget to write your own.
TUESDAY THOUGHTS : POETRY PROMPT
My delayed response has surprised me
I asked myself, “How do you feel?”
“You’ve been awfully mute.
Don’t you have any thoughts?
Is there something you’d like to reveal?”
Then, I realized, I truly felt nothing
Is it age, or just the results of
Having history with dashed expectations
Or protecting the peace that I love?
Am I sad, disappointed, or worried?
Am I shocked, heartbroken, or grieved?
Would a preference for hate and corruption
Be a choice that I would have believed?
But it’s easy to note what has happened
When you’ve seen it so often before
It takes on a normalcy, only this time
It just doesn’t scare you anymore
You can’t bother to fret over evil
It’s exhausting— perhaps that’s the scheme
To keep you upset and distracted
Every waking hour, and in your dreams
I sense, a divine plan is brewing
And I’ve been made keenly aware
This fight isn’t for me to take on
I’ve no energy left to spare
There are no more reserves of outrage
No more stockpiles of grief
Gone are all remnants of anger; rejection
And frankly, it’s quite a relief
So, I’m gonna sit back and observe from
The comfort of my aged position
That all of my ancestors knew full well
And practiced with stoic precision
They knew when to cease all their warning
How to step back, and watch things play out
They knew not to waste time in squabbling
Or wallow in fear and doubt:
“Uh uh. Don’t tell ‘em nothin’.
A hard head makes a soft behind.
They’ll learn— one way, or the other
You don’t have to pay them no mind.”
The seeming indifference I do feel
Is quite possibly, confidence
That the owner of vengeance is real
And I have earned enough sense
To sleep, since He never retires
And remember, he won’t always chide
With forces determined to trouble
Oppress, undermine, and divide
VRWc2024
