comments

Good comments, all of them.

I occasionally rail about comments because I like getting feedback, whether good or bad. Even when I had the whole cyber-stalker thing and he kept leaving inane comments, I rose to the occasion simply because that hateful, bitter person at least took the time to comment. It may not have been intelligent, uplifting or even coherent, but it was something.

I suppose I am a reactionary person. I don't so much provoke as I try to respond to what people have pitched to me.

I have no idea what to expect, and that's what makes comments cool. I guess it's interaction, but on a level that I am fond of, mainly in the written form. I am definitely more adept at expressing my attitudes through the written word, even with the lack of context and all that entails.

I wouldn't necessarily say that I am looking for insights, or even advice. I think I'm looking for people who feel as passionate as me, who will stand up for what they believe, even if it is just a measly comment on a small blog. But comments make me feel as if I am making at least a minimal impact.

I understand the reluctance on the part of others, but I seek to understand that reluctance. If I call it cowardice, it's because I cannot see any other definition. And when someone steps forward to define themselves, and I see that it is not rooted in fear, then that is something quite outstanding.

Someone asked, "What about those people who realized that they do not want what they once believed they did? And what of those who can not take the great risks you advocate because of their commitment to people who rely on them? Are they really cowards?"

I don't really have an answer for that. But in my experience I know that:

--Those who realize they have outgrown beliefs go to great lengths to explain it, which makes their reticence baffling to me...

--Those who cannot take risks because of commitments make a choice... it's not foisted upon them to commit to anything...

--Does that make them cowards? Only the person knows, and if they are truly not afraid then what I have to say won't deter them from their goals in the slightest.

I'm glad that my words have the effect they do, but I just wish more people would take that opportunity to demand the same of those around them. Ever been surrounded by people who complain about things but do nothing to change their environs? My rants and raves are usually a reaction to that kind of mentality. Maybe in real life people see me as a whiner or a complainer, but the same can be said about them. And when it comes down to it, my rants are broader and more generalized, even as I am using the details of my private life as fodder. And if there's one thing I loathe, it's being accused of being a complainer by people who complain.

That last part doesn't apply to anyone in particular, certainly not any of the people who did comment. The truth is, what I accuse my readers of doing is nothing more than a dare, and as we all know there's a choice involved when it comes to accepting dares. Not everyone who accepts the challenge of a dare should be applauded; likewise, not everyone who rejects the dare is doing it out of fear.

"A man who rails at the world for not directly facing the pain and suffering in it, will always be the fool, for he fails to realize that there is also great beauty in the world." But my point-- I think the point of everything I say, do and write -- is that in the pain there is beauty, and when people run away from their pain they are running away from an opportunity to see something just as beautiful as a sunset or a flower blooming or the twinkle in a child's eye.

I ask people to transform their pain into something. These posts can be seen as rants (as I like to call them) or they can be seen as attempts to turn my own pain into something that no longer eats away at my ability to be happy. Unfortunately, I cannot be the judge of that last part-- it's up to readers to decide that, and so if I am calling people out for not commenting, it's because I await their judgment. I know they are judging me anyway, so they may as well make it of some use to me, rather than reading what I've written in with the comfort of knowing that they never have to go that far out on a limb themselves.

I am sympathetic to those who are on the bandwagon with me because it makes me-- and them-- feel like we are not alone in this. Is it preaching to the choir, or is it just solidarity? I don't know, but I do know that all comments are welcome, even the ones that hurt or annoy or confuse me.

And I do care what people think-- otherwise, why write it out for people to see? I think it's wrong to put something out there and then dismiss any feedback with the notion that I don't care what they think. They cared enough to comment (even my stalker, although his concern was malevolent) so I should be brave enough to face that. If other people cannot bear that, I understand, but then again if I said the same things to them that they said to me, their thin skins would smart and then suddenly I'm the one who's an asshole... all the while a pretense to not caring what I think is in conflict with actions that show that, indeed, they DO care what I think.

That's why I stopped commenting regularly on other people's blogs: I got tired of being solicited for my comments, only to be set up as some straw man for the amusement of people I probably haven't even met.

"I would say that your intense sense of unhappiness and your indignance over lack of comments stems from a desire for attention. Which stems from a deep down lack of self-love. If you really love yourself, you no longer need to look to others for approval or disapproval to validate yourself." I agree with the first part, but if I no longer need approval from others, then I no longer need to write, create, or express myself in any way. And that's a lousy trade, because even if no one ever commented on my blog ever again, I'd still keep blogging and writing. Whether or not I ever find self-love is irrelevant; I'd go so far to say that the day I find self-love is the day my writing becomes ordinary, boring, and uninteresting, in which case I'd deserve to not receive comments.

The ironic part is that I'd probably get more comments if I were happy to write mediocre blogs.

This has all been fine and dandy, and I'm not being sarcastic. This is what it's all about, people. Why blog if you don't care what your audience wants? To me, that shows a lack of empathy for all those people out there who find some sort of relief or solace in my words, even when I'm being a curmudgeon.

Above all, I want to empathize, because I know what it's like to read something, be touched by it, and want to communicate my feelings towards it. I try not to cut people down or argue as much as I used to in this blog (which is why I deleted the old one, among other reasons) and yet even if I try to flatter people in this blog I end up pissing them off somehow.

It's a no-win situation, but the redeeming factor is that I don't care if I win. I'm not writing to win anything, and that is the sole instance where I do not care what others think. But at the same time I cannot summarily dismiss the opinions of others, because I'm not just writing this for myself.

Can't you see that I'm trying to save the world?

Maybe that's the foolish part. But that part never changes for me.

If I call my readers cowards, it's because I don't want them to be afraid. If they're OK with being afraid, then they should own it. But it's never glamorous to admit something like that... and yet, I am always doing that. I have no problem with admitting my faults or airing out my dirty laundry in public.

I guess I just get a little sore sometimes when people who cannot admit their own fear while I'm up here admitting mine. They have no obligation to do it-- it's their choice, once again. But for me, I feel like I have no choice: this is what I do. It's pathetic, and it's sad, and I don't get paid for it, but it's what I do.

And what's more, I care what people think, because I'm not writing this for automatons or pets. I'm writing this for people: good people, bad people, selfish people, confused people... they are all welcome here.

Thanks for the comments, people. You know, if I got more of them, I'd write more things along these lines.


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On a seemingly unrelated note, this is what MSNBC's Keith Olbermann had to say in response to Donald "Rummy the Dummy" Rumsfeld's statement that war protestors are akin to fascists:


The man who sees absolutes, where all other men see nuances and shades of meaning, is either a prophet, or a quack.

Donald S. Rumsfeld is not a prophet.

Mr. Rumsfeld’s remarkable comments to the Veterans of Foreign Wars yesterday demand the deep analysis - and the sober contemplation - of every American.

For they do not merely serve to impugn the morality or intelligence - indeed, the loyalty — of the majority of Americans who oppose the transient occupants of the highest offices in the land; Worse, still, they credit those same transient occupants - our employees — with a total omniscience; a total omniscience which neither common sense, nor this administration’s track record at home or abroad, suggests they deserve.

Dissent and disagreement with government is the life’s blood of human freedom; And not merely because it is the first roadblock against the kind of tyranny the men Mr. Rumsfeld likes to think of as "his" troops still fight, this very evening, in Iraq.

It is also essential. Because just every once in a while… it is right — and the power to which it speaks, is wrong.

In a small irony, however, Mr. Rumsfeld’s speechwriter was adroit in invoking the memory of the appeasement of the Nazis. For, in their time, there was another government faced with true peril - with a growing evil - powerful and remorseless.

That government, like Mr. Rumsfeld’s, had a monopoly on all the facts. It, too, had the secret information. It alone had the true picture of the threat. It too dismissed and insulted its critics in terms like Mr. Rumsfeld’s - questioning their intellect and their morality.

That government was England’s, in the 1930’s.

It knew Hitler posed no true threat to Europe, let alone England.

It knew Germany was not re-arming, in violation of all treaties and accords.

It knew that the hard evidence it received, which contradicted policies, conclusions - and omniscience — needed to be dismissed.

The English government of Neville Chamberlain already knew the truth.

Most relevant of all - it "knew" that its staunchest critics needed to be marginalized and isolated. In fact, it portrayed the foremost of them as a blood-thirsty war-monger who was, if not truly senile - at best… morally or intellectually confused.

That critic’s name… was Winston Churchill.

Sadly, we have no Winston Churchills evident among us this evening. We have only Donald Rumsfelds, demonizing disagreement, the way Neville Chamberlain demonized Winston Churchill.

History - and 163 million pounds of Luftwaffe bombs over England - taught us that all Mr. Chamberlain had was his certainty - and his own confusion. A confusion that suggested that the office can not only make the man, but that the office can also make the facts.

Thus did Mr. Rumsfeld make an apt historical analogy.

Excepting the fact that he has the battery plugged in backwards.

His government, absolute - and exclusive - in its knowledge, is not the modern version of the one which stood up to the Nazis. It is the modern version of the government… of Neville Chamberlain.

But back to today’s Omniscients.

That about which Mr. Rumsfeld is confused… is simply this:

This is a Democracy. Still. Sometimes just barely. And as such, all voices count — not just his. Had he or his President perhaps proven any of their prior claims of omniscience - about Osama Bin Laden’s plans five years ago - about Saddam Hussein’s weapons four years ago - about Hurricane Katrina’s impact one* year ago - we all might be able to swallow hard, and accept their omniscience as a bearable, even useful recipe, of fact, plus ego.

But, to date, this government has proved little besides its own arrogance, and its own hubris.

Mr. Rumsfeld is also personally confused, morally or intellectually, about his own standing in this matter. From Iraq to Katrina, to the entire "Fog of Fear" which continues to envelope this nation - he, Mr. Bush, Mr. Cheney, and their cronies, have - inadvertently or intentionally - profited and benefited, both personally, and politically.

And yet he can stand up, in public, and question the morality and the intellect of those of us who dare ask just for the receipt for the Emperor’s New Clothes.

In what country was Mr. Rumsfeld raised?

As a child, of whose heroism did he read?

On what side of the battle for freedom did he dream one day to fight?

With what country has he confused… the United States of America?

The confusion we — as its citizens - must now address, is stark and forbidding. But variations of it have faced our forefathers, when men like Nixon and McCarthy and Curtis LeMay have darkened our skies and obscured our flag. Note - with hope in your heart - that those earlier Americans always found their way to the light… and we can, too.

The confusion is about whether this Secretary of Defense, and this Administration, are in fact now accomplishing what they claim the terrorists seek: The destruction of our freedoms, the very ones for which the same veterans Mr. Rumsfeld addressed yesterday in Salt Lake City, so valiantly fought.

And about Mr. Rumsfeld’s other main assertion, that this country faces a "new type of fascism."

As he was correct to remind us how a government that knew everything could get everything wrong, so too was he right when he said that — though probably not in the way he thought he meant it.

This country faces a new type of fascism - indeed.

Although I presumptuously use his sign-off each night, in feeble tribute… I have utterly no claim to the words of the exemplary journalist Edward R. Murrow.

But never in the trial of a thousand years of writing could I come close to matching how he phrased a warning to an earlier generation of us, at a time when other politicians thought they (and they alone) knew everything, and branded those who disagreed, "confused" or "immoral."

Thus forgive me for reading Murrow in full:

"We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty," he said, in 1954.

"We must remember always that accusation is not proof, and that conviction depends upon evidence and due process of law.

"We will not walk in fear - one, of another. We will not be driven by fear into an age of un-reason, if we dig deep in our history and our doctrine, and remember that we are not descended from fearful men; Not from men who feared to write, to speak, to associate, and to defend causes that were - for the moment - unpopular."