It Don't Mean Shit
So Mr. Natural was this hippy drug guru in some 60s comic book. One day a young devotee approached him and asked, "What does it all mean, Mr Natural?" And Mr Natural gave his now famous reply, "It don't mean shit."
I've been reflecting on this lately as I struggle daily with the absurdities of living in this world. The alienation I've felt toward the world in general only seems to get worse every year. I look around and see others who seem to be human - they have heads and arms and legs etc. Yet I feel no kinship to any of them. It's a little disconcerting at times and when I start to feel this way, I remember that simple truth. It really doesn't mean shit.
I must admit I stand in awe quite often when I roam the so-called 'blogosphere.' I sometimes wonder what motivates people to reveal personal details about themselves for all to read. I've never been comfortable writing about myself mostly because I think people would just be bored to tears with the mundane details of my life. I mean, I'm having a tough enough time trying to come up with 100 interesting things about me. And I figure if someone wants to know more about me they could always email or message me.
Has the world become so fragmented and its people so isolated and separated from each other that people just reach out in desparation to be "heard?" It's been said that people have a need to be known and understood. Why is it easier to empty the thoughts in one's head onto a computer screen than it is to simply approach a stranger in a coffee shop or book store and start a conversation?
So Mr. Natural was this hippy drug guru in some 60s comic book. One day a young devotee approached him and asked, "What does it all mean, Mr Natural?" And Mr Natural gave his now famous reply, "It don't mean shit."
I've been reflecting on this lately as I struggle daily with the absurdities of living in this world. The alienation I've felt toward the world in general only seems to get worse every year. I look around and see others who seem to be human - they have heads and arms and legs etc. Yet I feel no kinship to any of them. It's a little disconcerting at times and when I start to feel this way, I remember that simple truth. It really doesn't mean shit.
I must admit I stand in awe quite often when I roam the so-called 'blogosphere.' I sometimes wonder what motivates people to reveal personal details about themselves for all to read. I've never been comfortable writing about myself mostly because I think people would just be bored to tears with the mundane details of my life. I mean, I'm having a tough enough time trying to come up with 100 interesting things about me. And I figure if someone wants to know more about me they could always email or message me.
Has the world become so fragmented and its people so isolated and separated from each other that people just reach out in desparation to be "heard?" It's been said that people have a need to be known and understood. Why is it easier to empty the thoughts in one's head onto a computer screen than it is to simply approach a stranger in a coffee shop or book store and start a conversation?
posted by Bill at 12:04:00 AM
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