Spill

BrockaHistory, Mood RoomLeave a Comment

Word spill. (byline: Fake News is Still News)

Surprise! Not a Sunday.

I’ve been mentally working on a blog post of sources-articles-evidence refuting current thought; refuting current animosity. I’m still gleeful while others are depressed and despondent.

I caught a few minutes of NPR this eve sharing how busloads of people from multiple cities are caravaning into D.C. from just as many multiple cities to both celebrate and protest Trump’s inauguration on January 20th. There were protest clips from Bush’s inauguration. [every time there is a comparison in a news feed, consider why the author-producer chose it]

It’s fucking exciting, regardless. It really is the same intensity as Obama’s win. New-different-brave-scary. No one knows what to expect. No one knows. And I’m deliberately staying quiet because every.damn.article. is a possible, maybe, potentially, apparently, considering this past… no clue. How brilliant.

I jump from historians to current Marketplace to Dow Jones to LGBT fears of isolation. Everybody and nobody.

As much as I see myself as ‘ear to the ground’, in the know, hyper-aware, intuitive, analytical…the world is chaos and curveballs.

The drastic change of our current environment is exciting. Climate change proponents feel fear, while others see it as a secular dogma enlisting more regulation and taxes. Neither are wrong. This is the only truth and applied to all topics.

We can only view from our own perspective. There isn’t ‘fake news’. There is only what we believe, click on, source, and thereby perpetuate.

We are the problem. We are the cure.

This morning, I again wondered why people aren’t exuberant.

Now is now. Now is awesome. It’s alive. And Earth will exist beyond us, too.

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