In my 20’s, being informed about the world was something I was endlessly passionate about.  I spent countless hours watching documentaries, scouring through alternative news websites, reading books, dissecting mainstream media, taking bong hits, having a snack, and then doing it all over again.  I was ravenous for information and desperately craved knowledge on the truth of how the world worked.

The more I researched, the more my naïve understanding of society changed.  I felt like I was having these revelations as I finally recognized that what I thought was reality, in fact never was.  For example, I was taught in school that the civil war was about the North having a moral issue with slavery because they knew it was wrong and wanted to “do the right thing.” Sure. Maybe for a select few people who had the decency not to have their heads totally up their ass?  But politically, slavery was much more an economic issue than ethical.

I was like “ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh so everything is all about money in the end.”

When I was young, the hopeless depressing nature of existence doesn’t feel that bad.  I had the energy and hunger to want to do something about it.  I felt like I could see the light, and fully believed I could help turn it on for everyone else. I thought I could change things, so I tried.  And it was the effort of trying that kept me believing there was a chance.

And you know what?  Even though I tried my hardest, I am pretty sure I made very little impact. I worked with non-profits, I hosted events, I gave speeches, I made videos, I went to protests, I educated myself on the issues, I started a socially responsible business… and nothing worked out the way I hoped it would.

That is not to say that people can’t change the world because they can, and do all the time – for the better or worse.  But I am saying that I didn’t change the world.  I started to run out of ideas of what to do, and the world kept being fucked up. I was engorged with information overload.  I felt like I had exposed myself to too much, and envied the people who didn’t bother to think of such things. I was psychically impotent, and didn’t know where to find Viagra for existential angst.  No longer was I inspired to think of solutions, but discouraged, and felt helpless.  I instead diverted my attention to worry about my career, money, life, and then soon after – my child.

Even though I will forever have an inbred curiosity and feel dehydrated for knowledge, I also sometimes hide from it.  Not only because I feel paralyzed and don’t know what do to make true systemic change, but also because I am terrified for the future of my daughter.  I will post on my Facebook wall an article like “Climate Change happening a Bazillion times Faster Than Anyone Expected Because of Endless Corporate Greed and Shit is Really Hitting The Fan,” because I want people to know that.  But am I going to read that shit.  HELLS NO I am not.  I already know why this is happening and my heart can’t handle it.

(I think this picture from when I was 23 pretty much says it all)