Reality?

According to Vox, 750 reality shows flickered across television screens in the U.S. in 2015. To me, this is astounding. They generally have no appeal to me.

That's not to say that I haven't watched a couple to see what all the hype was about. I have to admit that I caught a couple seasons of The Real World and maybe part of the first season of Survivor. I may have even watched one or two episodes of The Bachelor/The Bachelorette. That's it.

My primary objection is the faux sheen of "reality." There is nothing real about any of these shows. They are edited to create a desired narrative. Also, I hope that people are acting for the camera. I mean, I hope they're acting. How else to explain so much awful behavior.

It is that on-screen behavior that causes me the most concern. Society is choosing to make people famous for often reprehensible behavior on these shows. Why did Richard Hatch, the first survivor, have 15 minutes of fame? Or Omorosa? Or Snooki? Or Donald Trump? We have elevated the loudest, the crudest to stardom. Saying what's on your mind is now an admirable trait. It's considered authentic. I, however, question if all of those words spoken on reality shows are actually what's on the speaker's mind or if those are carefully calculated and scripted words, used to capture the spotlight.

I'm beginning to see social media, especially Twitter, in the same way. Say or do something outrageous. Go viral. Get famous. Repeat. We are helping lazy people become famous. Become president.

If we really want to resist, spend less time engaging on-line. Talk to people in real life. Volunteer somewhere. Don't share posts of those seeking fame for fame's sake, just so you can make your own snarky remark. Turn off the television. Don't buy the magazine with the latest reality "stars' on the cover. I'm trying hard to follow my own advice. I'm pretty sure we can make this better by shifting our reality from the screen to our own front porch.

The Inner Critic

"Almost every time somebody gives me a present,it ends up making me sad."  Catcher in the Rye

A kind gesture. A smile. Gentle words. A thoughtful present. It doesn't matter what it was, I have always experienced a enormous sense of sadness after someone is kind to me. My brain has always told me that I'm not worthy of such compassion.

Maybe not always. I remember (or I think I remember) my sixth grade teacher telling me that she loved my stories and that I should be a writer. What did I do? I abandoned fiction and wrote newspaper style stories until I graduated from high school. Then, except for papers, I stopped writing completely. I started again when I was 40.

Why? 

If I could answer that question, I would drastically be happier on a daily basis.

Instead, I battle with it through meditation and that seems to help quite a bit. Where I used to just spiral down until I was stuck in the muck, I can now catch myself before I'm too far gone.

This demon critic still gets in my way. Right now, I'm ready to start sending out my completed manuscript, but I feel apprehension. I'm now consumed by thoughts designed to stop me. Whenever I start to research agents or publishers, my brain tells me, "Come on, now. You know that no one wants to read your garbage. Just stop and go bake something. You make good cookies."

That apprehension is probably normal. It certainly is normal in my day-to-day experience. It's exhausting to have to fight constantly with my own brain. I don't understand people, like the current president, who never question themselves. Maybe that is an illness that is the polar opposite of mine.