Adrift In The News
Writing for myself is different than writing for an audience. It took me a while to understand the difference between a writing voice and a speaking voice. What I write isn’t what I’m going to say. Molding the two languages together is a life’s work.
Music helps to expand those depths because it isn’t the chords or notes that does the talking. The mood of the music sets the emotional tone within my writing style. One tune can dance through expression with convenient ease.
It seems that every website has an advertisement of some sort. Every work needs to be monetized because time is money. Maybe that’s easier for some but I’ve never looked for shortcuts to a solution. In my veins, quality trumps time. News stories are carelessly leaning towards whatever gets the most rankings and clicks. Conveying an idea takes time to mold. The clay needed to build good work is the unique story of a poor man who can afford Internet and an attention span.
Outside of my apartment here in Tucson lives a lot of animal life. Birds and rabbits get together and eat every day. The birds chirp and peck around meaningless dirt like particular vacuums overturning small rocks. It’s hard to think of dirt as clean but after rabbits, various birds, and lizards scamper around it’s amazing they find any food at all. Yet, their life is fairly simple. Eat and sleep.
That’s the way work is turning. Eat and sleep. Eat what you can find and sleep when you can while dodging predators. Keeping an ear out for various calls bends enough time to gain some cover. With all the time I have, the writing goals have been within reach but hard to achieve. The writing I want to do isn’t there yet. My expectations are too short once I reach the goals I set months ago and then its rinse and repeat. A laundry cycle turning over and over.
This post is about nothing in particular but there is a thread of lingering doubt clouding the focus. It’s the work of work. Not that the work is too hard but no one wants to expend themselves towards effort that doesn’t pay. Writing gives its own rewards. Expression is a tool that is mishandled. In a day and age where news can be eagerly reported within seconds, digesting what has happened gets no coverage because the hard work is reported is that boring. People make up their own minds regardless of running prejudice. Tests beget tests.
I hated school because tests were limited to effective progression. The focus from the get-go was negative. You didn’t complete this, you didn’t do that.
News stories leave out the important things. All that matters is a timestamp of approval because more pages mean more opportunities for more advertisements of things we don’t need. Even the advert’s a lame in their quality. Advertisements match the subject of empty thought tied to a ribbon of delusion.
Customers might come back to what they like and that seems like a huge maybe. The trickle down effect of loyalty in based in the result. Making a statement of action within the limits of speech turns into a jingle and a ringtone for $1.99. Protester’s probably get paid to make a scene for video revenue because the emotion is worth selling but that depends on the changing wind of trends. The feelings matter if it pays well. A story matters if it cuts deep enough.
It isn’t surgery taking place. It’s the hack and slash of opinion wrapped in unhinged clarity. Saying something with nothing to gain. That’s sales. Bargain hunting effective rumors to uncover the truth.