A Sign of Maturity

A realization pleasantly poked me in the eye today as I reflected on the CNN article concerning Van Gogh's newly discovered painting. I'm maturing. Not physically (I'm the same size as I was in fifth grade, give or take my five pound fluctuation), but mentally, emotionally, or more generally, intrinsically.

The so-called epiphany revealed itself when I read the news. Sifting through the copious articles on CNN's rather scattered homepage, I read through numerous headlines. Twerking gone bad, a fat cat's workout, the supposed next "Gangnam Style"...all were not enough to capture my interest to the point where I'd read the article, or at the very least, click on it.

They don't appeal to me the same way they once did. When that appeal ended, I don't know. It could've been last year, it could've been a week ago. Bottom line: they're not newsworthy. In fact, it made me rethink CNN's values. Does such a positively appraised news station really find this garbage interesting, or is it an effort to receive the most clicks? Either reason makes me question the organization's decision makers.

And I'm not an extremist. News orgs should garnish their sites with these stories. It creates a variety, it appeals to more people (like the younger me's), it's okay. But the amount of those kind of stories I saw? It was a little much, at least for my liking.

Now to make the this post come full circle: like I said before, I'm maturing. The eye poking happened when my definition of newsworthiness changed, or slightly after that, or way after that...I'm unsure. Point is, I'm choosing what I want to read. What I read on news sites is what I think is newsworthy. My choice to delve into Syria's carnage as opposed to Miley's lewd performance was fully conscious. This maturity makes me happy.

In plenty of regards, embarrassing ones that I'll leave unmentioned, I was mildly afraid that I wasn't as "mature" as many of my peers. I don't know A LOT about A LOT of things. I bullshit a lot in conversation with others. In the back of my mind, I feel a little insecure. Why don't I know this much about this topic that so-and-so knows in such admirable depth? I suck. Suck suck suck. Time to respond with some witty remark which will hopefully steer the conversation in a more known direction for me.

The above usually works in my favor, much to my surprise.

Now, whilst typing this post, I've come to another realization: don't compare yourself to others. I've heard the notion since I was a uni-browed first grader. Too bad I'm not grasping it until now. Better late than never.

So many things I could write about today. I really want to write about my response to Van Gogh's   recently unearthed painting (gorgisimo by the way!). I'll save it for tonight/tomorrow/sometime this week, so long as the emotions don't escape me by then.

She's stuck in 2D.

A brightly lit screen pressed up to her nose. Texting, swiping, gaming. A slightly larger screen radiating heat on her lap. Typing, snooping, wandering. A much larger screen blaring mediocre movies and punctuated marketing visuals. Looking, hearing, changing.

But the umbrella gerund? Wasting. She is wasting away amidst three screens, varying in size, function and usage.

Let me verbally download some more motion pictures. I come home to an absence of light, minus the scattered flashlights plugged into some walls. I head directly to the kitchen to put away my lunch container and utensils. Dirty dishes fill the counter, not even the sink. Food is left out for some other slave to put away. The microwave door is hanging out, a safety hazard to anyone over 4' 9".

I walk toward my room, having to unfortunately pass hers, and the disgust cements. All three screens activated, intermittently grabbing her attention. I could start jump roping in her room and she wouldn't even acknowledge me unless I were a screen. Just the sight of these blue-hued lights glimmering around her room makes me sick.

I don't fear losing her because I have already lost her in the depths of a two dimensional world.