So this post will likely not be read by anyone, and perhaps…it’s better that way. Though, if it is read by someone, then of course I would not be in the bit surprised as this is the internet after all. If you are reading this…Hello!
Today is Martin Luther King Jr. day, a day that most people know as the first three day weekend of the year. My parents have always made sure that I know how big of an impact Dr. King had on the opportunities I’ve been allowed. Now, we don’t celebrate or even acknowledge the day in any significant manner, but I unconsciously tend to reflect on my life on this day. I’m a modern day Pavlov’s dog, conditioned with a tasty whiff of insight from my parents so long ago. (Yum insight)
If you listened to my song Dear Outsider on my Youtube channel, you might be able to discern that recently racism made a significant attack against me. Consequently, this year’s reflection has been far deeper than previous years…and far more troubling.
An intense hatred of race and culture is beginning to develop inside of me, and I hate hatred. Personally, culture and race just seem ancient and decayed. Instead of adapting and changing with the world around them(as I believe they were originally established to do), people who cling to the title of “Old-fashioned” perpetuate culture’s rotted traditions, letting them fester in the minds of us, the youth. The smell is hidden under what elders call wisdom, but what the intelligent merely call age. Anyone whose mind is acute enough to catch the stench are deemed naive and are disregarded.
It seems silly to me, culture. Yet, I know it is not all bad. For example, Birthday cake is a tradition here in Western culture that (as far as Wikipedia and its surrounding Google links have shown me) has little to no actual significance to anyone, unless you honor the Moon Goddess, Artemis. (nothing wrong with that). Nevertheless, birthday cake is delicious and I have no problem consuming vasts amounts of the stuff on special occasions. Just because it is a tradition that made sense in antiquity and only makes sense now because of its perpetuation, doesn’t make it any less delicious or awesome.
Presumably, racist traditions are far more significant than pastries, and thus my developing hatred for culture may be somewhat justified, and my comparison to cake worthless as a means to redeem culture. Nonetheless, I hope one day Dr. King’s cultural changes are as ubiquitous as that birthday cake, but until then, I guess I’ll keep up with these reflections on life…and I’ll never stop dreaming. Thanks Dr. King.