Wednesday, August 15, 2007

It is Never Too Late to Get Started

It’s been a while. I know. I really do not know if I am going to keep this up. It seems as more days go by, the less motivated I am to do some of the things that I once loved. I never really wrote on here much, so I guess it is not the worst thing that could happen. However, it has always been nice to feel a part of something bigger than myself. What that thing is, I am not really sure, but looking at my sidebar and seeing the links of the people whose sites I read, and who I feel that I really know (well, a couple of them I known pretty well from other times in my life) makes me feel some sense of community, despite the thousands of miles, country barriers, and life barriers that exist outside of the internet. What exactly am I saying? I am not sure. I know that having this blog has been an amazing experience. I have gotten to interact and to know people I would have never had the opportunity to even run into in this life.

I’ve been thinking a lot about community. And I mean a lot. I live in a place where community is something with a gate and cookie cutter houses. A community is something that has a trademark sign at the end of it. A community is something that has a name like “Mountain’s Edge” or “Villas at Sunrise Mountain”. A community is something with street names like Wavering Lilly. There is no sense of a true human community where I live. People work odd hours; front doors are not close to other front doors. There are no porches. It is a strange place. And really, in the broadest since, this place is America. While I don’t live in the most representative place in America, I live in a place that America strives to be. A place where the individual is what matters most. Consumption is the end goal and hedonism reigns supreme. The sick thing is that could describe almost any city in the country.

Do not get me wrong. I may sound like I hate this place, but I do not. There are signs of life among the crazy. There are real people here. People in need of other people, but we must fight the culture to see it. It is not in our faces, it’s hidden beyond the marble fa├žade and neon lights. You can see it the faces of people when you’ve found one of its hiding spots. You can hear it in the music that floats through the smoke filled air of some strip mall tavern. It is here, but it will be one hell of a battle to get it out in the open for those who live here to see. Instead of some trademarked gated community, we may actually be okay with other people needing others like them. Because when it all comes down to it, people cry when the old (yet young) 48 year old establishment is torn down. Not because of what it is, but because of who was there. Words may have never been spoken between two long time patrons, but that bond was there, and if they wanted to speak they could. Now, with their gathering place gone, where can they go, who can they see that they might speak to? Or at least know that there will be someone there to speak to, if they really want to.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love your writing style, and if you ever read this I think you should keep blogging, if only because you have a spectacular domain name...