The following post will be only discussing my political views and personal life. If you're uninterested, I suggest you, like... I don't know. You do you.
A couple of times, my dad has asked me why I don't condone cheap labor, and the most recent time was today. When he asked, I turned away and shook my head while telling him out of frustration and fatigue that I wasn't willing to have the conversation again. Maybe someone needs to school me in the glorious logic of American values; despite my upbringing, I don't understand how supporting a labor structure that exploits an oppressed class or population for capitalist greed is supportable, or condonable, or tolerable, or ethical. He adamantly supports capitalism, and claims that cheap labor (i.e., labor provided by workers in sweatshops with a focus on those in countries of Southeastern Asia) is ethical because it provides jobs for those in need of them — supply and demand, work for your money, success is attainable by any demographic, it's all very optimistic and blinded and whatever. Not that my views aren't — the expectation that refusing to support a structure that has been in place decades beyond my existence will affect it at all is also optimistic, and also young-minded, and arguably naïve. The overthrow of capitalism as we see it will most likely not be changed by one consumer purchasing a cruelty-free product over a cruelty-full product, but I know which one helps me sleep better at night.
I discuss the above because it's spurred thoughts in me about the concept of change — personal, social, and beyond. Being a product of a fast-paced, consumerist society and agreeing with the post-modern principle of human beings being pawns of their society through social conditioning, my interests and motivational levels are fleeting and I constantly desire change; but for months, I've been in this rut and have wallowed in it, flipping between the ends of my polar mood spectrums and crying because nothing is changing. Crying because nothing is changing because nothing is happening because I'm not inciting any change because I have no motivation to incite change because I get discouraged and hopeless because nothing is changing because nothing is happening because of me, and things beyond me, and things about me, and everything ever. It's easy to get discouraged, and I'm easily discouraged, and recently, for every step I take — not even for every step, it's like... It's like... (be warned that I have a liking for elaborate metaphors and analogies) It's like I just try to take a step forward and then get distracted by more immediately gratifying opportunities and then go back to the same place but realize that I'm actually in a different place that is probably further behind than where I was and I'm looking around for any sign of where I had been but then can't find it and lie down for a few minutes only to get up later to sulk around aimlessly still searching for the spot I was at before knowing that what I should do is move forward from wherever it is that I am but passively refusing because I feel way too tired and a little too undeserving to progress, and move forward, and to change.
But recently, I've had a peak in my emotional well-being, and maybe it's just my biorhythms or whatever, but I feel inclined to incite the change that I've been avoiding out of fear and that I've been needing. I've been making efforts to think positively and optimistically. And, just a disclaimer for anyone on my blog, I usually go on hiatus for months and unexpectedly pop up out of fucking nowhere to write lengthy posts about self-discovery or some shit. So, for anyone reading, thanks for doing so, and I hope my blog is more than just a weird narcissistic shitfuck of pictures of me.
Hopefully, see y'all soon. (But for some of ya I already see you on the daily! Social networks, y'all. Global connectivity, y'all.)