Reality T.V. Ruined the Internet (AKA Calm Down Kids - Life is a Wonderful Thing).

Sitting here in the dark, legs crossed, Cat Stevens playing in the background on repeat, I'm grinning. My mom's asleep, and the house is quiet, and somewhere in the living room the Christmas tree is glittering, peaceful and stoic. Right about now, I'm wishing I had lights to string across the walls of my bedroom; it's too dark to see much of anything, but here I am. Just sitting and grinning and fumbling with the keyboard, and thinking...

Why is it that so few of the teenagers I know are able to find any meaning in the world around them?

Why do people spend so much of their time wallowing in their petty little dramas? Mulling over things that don't matter?

Why is it that every time I log-in to Twitter, or Tumblr, or BlogSpot, I'm forced to read through a list of "woe is me" posts about how life is just so difficult, and how they're just not over him/her and it's breaking their heart, and oh god, what's the point of even being alive?
"I can't take it anymore.
It hurts too much.
I can't go on without him/her in my life.
I'm broken.
Shattered.
Crying."

A part of me just wants to take a walk down Main Street and plaster a bunch of signs around town that say:
Attention Teenagers Currently Residing on Planet Earth,
If you have a personal problem, broken heart, issue with somebody, low self-esteem, or any other form of angst you may be dealing with, please refrain from broadcasting it on the internet!

Because I don't need to be reading that; I don't want to see any of that. And the fact of the matter is, neither does the rest of the world, no matter how many friends or followers or subscribers you may have.

The fact of the matter is, the internet, which is something anyone at any time can gain access to, should not be the place for people to spill their deepest secrets and troubles onto, but for some reason, it's just become burned into everyone's brain that it's perfectly acceptable. That the world really does care that you broke up with your boyfriend, and yes, it really is necessary to explain in-depth how painful of an ordeal it was and how you're choosing to cope with it by sitting alone all night drinking and waking up trashed and depressed the next morning.

Thank you for sharing, now invest in a diary.

But my biggest question is, when did it become a "trend" to be self-loathing? If somebody were to come up with a list of all of the "teenage fads" that are present in today's society, it would be right up there with black hair dye and long bangs; tight pants and punk bands that all sound exactly the same; bisexuality and dark make-up; complaining and being sad; self-mutilation; cutting. It's all intertwined. And for a long time, I've kind of been sitting around wondering why all of this is, and how it all got started, and I've since come to a conclusion that has probably been staring me in the face since I started analyzing the situation.

Reality T.V.
Or possibly even TV in general.

Our society loves to see damaged people; it's what has shaped television into what it is today. Just a constant parade of psychologically damaged individuals being showcased and exploited in front of a big camera for everyone to watch and compare themselves to. I mean let's face it, nobody wants to watch a show about normal people living normal, everyday lives, because that's just not interesting. We want to see the brilliant, misanthropic doctor who pops Vicodin and routinely berates his patients; we want to see the ultra-skinny model break down and cry after being told she wasn't pretty enough to be on the cover of CoverGirl magazine. The abused housewife being interviewed on Oprah. The drug addict, the drama queen, the teenage mother.

And every minute of every day, people are watching this and thinking well, this must be what life is really like. This must be what I'm supposed to be feeling and thinking and acting like. They don't get that it's scripted; that the fight Snookie and whoever the hell else is on Jersey Shore got into was staged, just like what happens on The Hills, and America's Next Top Model, and any of the other mindless drivel being displayed on television today. Our sense of reality is being blurred and distorted by the fictional images on the screen in front of us.

We see people pour out their personal lives and problems on TV, so we assume we should do the same on the internet. We twist our thoughts and feelings to fit what the media portrays as "normal," and assume that we're more damaged than we really are.
We're drama queens.
Attention addicts.

And I'm just grinning like a Cheshire cat at the absurdity of it all. 

I just want everyone to step out from under this massive illusion and realize that there's more to life than the things that make us unhappy. There's more to life than complaining and hurting and crying over insignificant things that won't matter a month or a week or even ten minutes from now.

It's not even so much the fact that people are using the internet to complain that really bothers me; yes, it's obnoxious and frustrating and completely unnecessary. That's already been established. No, what I can't stand more than anything else is people who take being alive for granted.

It's the kids crying behind their computer screens typing "I just want to die."
It's the depressed, broken-hearted 15-teen-year-old telling all of his Twitter followers, "Give me a reason to live."

You're here, buddy. There's your reason.
For some unforeseen reason, all the cosmic forces of the Universe came together one day and decided to plant you on Earth and give you the ability to breathe air and harmonize and exist. That's justification enough.

We're so incredibly lucky to be here, why can't teenagers seem to grasp that? There's so much out there in the world beyond your nasty break-up, or your insecurities, or little internal struggles; there are so many lovely things in reality that can give us hope and make us happy and give us meaning, joy, love. We have birds and music, and other people; art, laughter, Walmart, lunar eclipses. There's oceans and sunshine and Harold and Maude; holidays and celebrations, two-for-one deals at Target, wiener dogs, rain, chocolate milkshakes, and Harry Potter. Lessons to learn and things to think about.

That's why I can just sit here, alone in the middle of the night with an ipod and the lights off, and just laugh. Because I don't want to cheat myself out of life by drowning in negativity and making myself out to be anything less than what I am. I'm just a spec in the middle of this whole big, puzzling, wonderful Universe, so I might as well make the best of it.

There will always be a reason to live, but you won't find it on Twitter, Tumblr, or Facebook. So open your eyes wide, and really look for it.

"Reach out. Take a chance. Get hurt even. But play as well as you can. . . LIVE! Otherwise, you got nothing to talk about in the locker room."

- Maude, Harold and Maude. 

yes my friend, this toast i made is positively glorious.

hum dee dum dum dum.

the book i want to read is in my mom's room at the moment, but she happens to be asleep. go figure. it's been sitting on top of the t.v. in the living room for the past week, and TODAY she decides to move it, and replace it with some absurd flower hair clip my grandmother found at a thrift store. i suppose i could just barge into her room, flick on the light, and start rudely rummaging around for it, but that would likely upset the wiener dog, and irritate my mother to the point where she would sit up and angrily mumble something like, "do you HAVE to have it NOW?" and i'd say something like "YES i need it now, it was in the living room, and you MOVED it when you knew i was reading it."

and then she'd say, in a considerably more irritated fashion "i did NOT move it, i have no idea where it is, so get lost."

then i'd reply with a sensationally witty remark, like "you're FACE can get lost," and i wouldn't get the book back. then on the short journey back to my room, i'd notice it sitting on the couch, in perfectly clear view. that's always how it happens.

like this morning, when i was making hot chocolate and i tried to put the thing that holds the hot water in the fridge. or two minutes later, after i made toast and accidentally put the peanut butter in the fridge when it really belongs in the cabinet above the counter. i make the most fantastic toast in the world. you'd have to be in my head to know why that had anything to do with what i was talking about, but trust me, it's connected.

so needless to say, i'm going to skip breaking into my mother's room, because in the end, it would essentially be useless, regardless of whether or not the book was actually there. which i'm almost certain it is, but i'm probably wrong.

it's The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs, by the way, perhaps you've read it. but then again, you probably haven't because, i mean, who actually reads books anymore when there are so many intriguing things to read on the internet, like F My Life and Shit My Dad Says?

oh yeah, and the toilet overflowed this evening, which was somehow my fault even though i had nothing to do with it. all i did was push the handle like i've done a thousand times before, and somehow it decided to explode. just a freak accident, but of course, it was my fault. i just love how that always happens.

alright, i'm done.

was there a point to this blog? ehhhhhhhhh, not really. but hey, who knows, maybe you'll find some sort of secret, profoundly touching, epiphany-evoking message hidden beneath this babbling nonsense. perhaps it even holds the meaning of life. get creative.