Excuses
"Don't you want to know what we could become?"
I have dire qualms with certain irregularities that surround my life. But it's not me this time. I promise.
There is this invisible manuscript I live my life by, through and through. An ever persistent moral obligation to make things right for humanity and for the world. My mind is hardwired on conservation principles--on using less and giving more; on reusing every possible piece of resource my fingertips lay their prints upon, or recycling what can be used no longer, or eating organic. I am tired of people wasting, and tired of being surrounded by those who front a faux face of humanitarian and environmentalism. These are principles I always believe in. No matter the circumstances.
With unemployment at an ultimate high, and the world economy in detrimental ruin, families have turned to more conventional means, perpetuating what ounce of dignity they have left. As Americans, the image as pilgrims and crusaders is branded upon our high horse hides. But today we feel broken and used--by big business; by the government. Perhaps these expectations have left some weary. For once, some families cannot get a foothold; cannot get a break or a sign [from god] that things will turn up. "It's only temporary," you say. Temporary. But aside from the turmoil and torment, we find solace in each other. In the hearts of our neighbors packing memories and belongings in corrugated boxes from foreclosed homes; in widowed wives, and war-torn families. But we thrive. We always do. It's human nature that keeps us reaching.
Individuals and families who have learned to conserve energy, paper, water, money, and sanity during these hard times will eventually find even ground, adapting to the current circumstances, and driving for old habits of consumerism and squander. People will forget how to monitor their energy usage, and forget how to buy recyclable materials so that the world can suffer less during our time of management. We'll forget about each other and our struggles, and we'll compete for the biggest and the best of everything. The world will stretch, pieces will die, some will exhale in toxic burps and rumbles. The world will become sullen once more, and we will have forgotten all that we learned in our time of destitution.
This is our tragic story.
I have dire qualms with certain irregularities that surround my life. But it's not me this time. I promise.
There is this invisible manuscript I live my life by, through and through. An ever persistent moral obligation to make things right for humanity and for the world. My mind is hardwired on conservation principles--on using less and giving more; on reusing every possible piece of resource my fingertips lay their prints upon, or recycling what can be used no longer, or eating organic. I am tired of people wasting, and tired of being surrounded by those who front a faux face of humanitarian and environmentalism. These are principles I always believe in. No matter the circumstances.
With unemployment at an ultimate high, and the world economy in detrimental ruin, families have turned to more conventional means, perpetuating what ounce of dignity they have left. As Americans, the image as pilgrims and crusaders is branded upon our high horse hides. But today we feel broken and used--by big business; by the government. Perhaps these expectations have left some weary. For once, some families cannot get a foothold; cannot get a break or a sign [from god] that things will turn up. "It's only temporary," you say. Temporary. But aside from the turmoil and torment, we find solace in each other. In the hearts of our neighbors packing memories and belongings in corrugated boxes from foreclosed homes; in widowed wives, and war-torn families. But we thrive. We always do. It's human nature that keeps us reaching.
Individuals and families who have learned to conserve energy, paper, water, money, and sanity during these hard times will eventually find even ground, adapting to the current circumstances, and driving for old habits of consumerism and squander. People will forget how to monitor their energy usage, and forget how to buy recyclable materials so that the world can suffer less during our time of management. We'll forget about each other and our struggles, and we'll compete for the biggest and the best of everything. The world will stretch, pieces will die, some will exhale in toxic burps and rumbles. The world will become sullen once more, and we will have forgotten all that we learned in our time of destitution.
This is our tragic story.
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