Public Punditry

It's been over a week since I've posted, and there's been plenty of news to cover. Unless you've been living under a rock or without any sort of internet connection, it would be quite difficult to not know about the attack on the Capitol and American Democracy. So there's that. In the sports world, the Browns won their first playoff game in over 25 years. LaMelo Ball became the youngest player in NBA history to record a triple-double. I consider myself to be a big movie person. I've indulged in the glories of Netflix and HBO Max, watching a countless number of critically-acclaimed films since the dawn of the new year. In my mind, all these topics take up a significant portion of headspace. I love current events, sports, and movies more than the next guy, but as I sat at my computer thinking of something to write. Those topics failed to produce anything above lackluster. Still, there was one particular thing that ran in and out of my mind after watching the news,

Pain. Struggle. Depression. Overwhelmed souls. Disillusion. Lack of satisfaction. These words and so many more open the floodgates of a disoriented, sorrowful, and unwanted life. These lives are seen in obituaries, walking along empty sidewalks, and swinging on cold porch swings. They run, laugh, cry, love, hurt, heal, and go about life as if it's normal. They're no different from the rest of us because they are us. Lamentation and grief are distinct aspects of the daily walk of life, yet we barely open their doors because they're "not welcome."   I don't have a complicated life, one filled with personal anecdotes that bring people to tears. Good looks that I can make a career out of, outlandish physical capabilities that put people on tv screens, nor do I have an obscene and superior intellect. No one's gonna write my biography. I'm not gonna be in history books. My great-great-grandchildren aren't gonna say, "We're related to HIM?"