How did we get here?

Where was the shift?

To say it was slight would be a substantial understatement.

I spend everyday in a classroom. I interact with the future. I see the future.

Like a social medium, I see things that I fear. I hear things that I know will lead to misfortune and anguish. I hear our future plead for solutions to problems that my generation and the one before it created. I fail at inspiration, yet plead for insight. I try to guide and instill premise, but fail … at inspiration.

Instead of hopelessness… they turn to apathy.

Depending on which website you look under I am either a late Gen-Xer, or a Millennial. I was born in 1981, the paradoxical middle ground between being stuck forever in the good ole’ days, and being a pioneer of the Technological Revolution. I am Lost Boy. Too young to have benefitted from the dot- com boom. Too old to have become a YouTube millionaire. I remember a world before 9/11, but am equipped to survive the zombie apocalypse. My first album was Thriller, but my Instagram is #lit.

I see the future. Because I used to be it.

I remember feeling as if I would never get old. I remember feeling invincible. I remember being in love. I remember the pain I felt when my grandmother passed on. I remember the pain I felt when every dog I ever had went away. I remember feeling like today was the best of my life.

I remember feeling.

I remember when my passion was attractive. I remember when my passion made me cool. I remember when my rage could insight a riot. I remember when passion was not the exception, but the rule.

Passion, now only exists when others are watching. Passion is calculated. Passion, now only exists in a vacuum of likes and follows. Passion, is only relevant to the agenda. Failure wasn’t an option, now it is the default setting. Goals are for senior citizens, because YOLO.

As a facilitator of education, I realize that they do not understand the game. Do what your told to advance. Acquire skills that enable you to manipulate the matrix, Learn to be the a leader, or at least a loyal and productive follower. In a pack of billions we are lone wolves, connected only through bandwidth. If I hear one more excuse, I think I might pull the plug.

We don’t care if poor people can go to the doctor, go get another job. We don’t care if children eat, it’s not our responsibility to feed the world. We don’t care what you’re going through. What about what “I” am going through? It’s always someone else’s negligence, but the mirror never lies.

I don’t feel like I used to. I am tired. I understand what Roger Waters meant when he wrote “Comfortably Numb”.

I still wish upon stars though, and inside there is still a spark. As a facilitator of education, I refuse to  extinguish my rage. My rage is what created me. If I have it my way it will also destroy me. I will pass it on to my daughter. She will know what to do with it. I will care about your day, and the people who exist in it. I will guide and instill premise. I will inspire. I will not adhere to this alternate reality. I will not participate in this apathetic americana. I will have the best day of my life. I will moonwalk when talking to friends who knew me when, and I will speak highly of existence until the bitter end. This is not me, it is all of us. Squirrels trying to go nuts in the universe.

 

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