I am an insomniac. I hardly ever sleep. And so I sit around and watch the news and read books and play with my children and write. This is the focus of my life: to write.
Of course there are always critics, always people prone to put you down out of sheer malice because that is what they are all about. We, people, all of us, are mean-spirited creatures in this modern age and we want to unravel everything.
Now I have a thick skin. Nothing really bothers me, at least in regards to what another person might say about me, but it has given me the mission of disclosing hypocrisy and pointing out the destructive intentions of modern society. I sit back here and watch from a third person perspective (or a second person, if we choose to be fancy/pretentious/literary–notice the royal ‘we’). I can even view my life and the interactions I have from the outside. It is just another story, a story of corruption and breakdown.
We all try to stay true to ourselves but so often our minds are changed by whims of the moment and we watch our perspectives change as we grow older. There is a reason so many people grow up rejecting the norms of society in the most liberal manner, only to gray into conspiratorial conservatism as they lose modern relevance, angry at the direction of society, blaming their children and their children’s children for having so many alien interests and ideas. The old no longer understand the world and can only view it through the clouded lens of their own experience. Even the old liberals, locked into a mild protest with the world, see everything growing darker and bleaker and why won’t these children understand?
This is not to say that the old are necessarily wrong–not at all. They are wrong, but that is not what I’m saying. Every generation has resented youth and every generation that ages out of influence sees nothing working any longer. As they fade into their final days they can only see apocalypse–their personal apocalypse–and these damned younguns are the cause. This has gone on and on for hundreds of thousands of years, back from when cavemen resented the evolution of their children; back when kings and queens began losing their powers, and back to when revolutions shook the world. Imagine how resentful the last patriots of the revolutionary war were by the time Andrew Jackson reached office. The world was changing, the idea of America was changing and all those old hopes and dreams were revised for the new world of the future. The previous generations were superfluous, and they grew bitter. The world had passed them by. Like the aforementioned caveman, society had evolved beyond them.
Anger is a generational thing, we grow angrier the older we get. And when parents tell their children that the world is open to their success and the children finally have to sell out to make their home and live their lives in mediocrity, resenting and blaming their parents, resenting and blaming their national leaders and demanding, blindly, some profound change, there is only mistrust and rage. What changes should we hope for? That is someone else’s job to figure out . . .