You know that thrill of finding a new favorite song? If you get The Feels (those little icy fingers skating up and down your spine), then you know it’s a good’un. It’s so good, in fact, that you must, immediately, play it on repeat. Again. No, again. Wait, one more time. Just one more. Until you’ve slaughtered the damn thing to weeping shreds. Until every time you hear it, it makes your eye twitch and you mentally curse yourself for ruining a good thing.
I’m currently listening to a fantastic song that I think I’m a bit late getting to seeing it has roughly 8 MILLION views on The YouTube: Phantogram’s, “When I’m Small.” And there are all of these sites for lazy, interweb-challenged people like myself that will play the song on repeat until you start to imagine punching babies and puppies every time you hear the thing. (No animals or infants were harmed in the writing of this blog, by the way. I’m talking to you, PETA, and you, DCFS.) Here’s the website because you know you’re curious now, proceed with caution: youtubeonrepeat.com.
So, while I’m bludgeoning this song slowly into the angry parts of my brain until I no longer love it because I’m terrible, and cruel, and I have the same problem that mainstream FM radio seems to have, I’m realizing that we do this with a lot of things.
We ruin good things.
All the time.
Because we consume. Rapidly, as a species.
We. Must. Have. It. Now.
Maybe this isn’t a new concept to anyone. Maybe we have accepted that we simply are just this way and have learned to live with it because change is hard, and well, we are comfy and cozy in our money-enslaved lives. But….but….why?
It’s Christmastime and people are shoving into each other with shopping carts. Today, this lady dropped an avocado out of her cart in the parking lot and I said, “Hey, you just lost your avocado!” (which was the best sentence I uttered all day), and I went to go get it for her and her eyes got all wide and scary like she’d never been helped before. Thankyousomuchkindyoungdimpledgirlforsavingmyguacamole.
You’re welcome. Pay it forward. Give someone a bag of chips or something.
And then this guy tried to push us into the big-huge-theft-sensor-thingies at the exit because he had no idea that he wasn’t the only human in the universe. Hey, that Uncle Buck DVD isn’t going to watch itself. I mean, John Candy.
We’re rude. We’re cruel. Not all of us. Not all the time.
But a lot of us, a lot of the time.
These seem like some pretty deep thoughts over a simple song (and it’s not even a Christmas song). I mean, it’s a GREAT song, but I wish that the holiday message would carry. I won’t be a hypocrite–my kids are getting a ridiculous amount of presents because it’s thrilling and fun and beautiful to see them so excited and ripping into colored paper with grins the size of Mount Vesuvius on Christmas morning. I love them and there are few days that I get to spoil them and make them feel overjoyed in a sea of gifts. But the thing is, that’s not the point of the holiday. It’s not the point of any holiday, really. Not in my eyes.
Peace on earth–Good will toward men–yadda yadda yadda, Elaine Benes. Sure, it’s cheesy, but it’s not. It’s nice. I’m sort of the world’s biggest, most sarcastic cynic, but I’m asking you to be nice. Not because it looks good. Not because it’s expected or “the right thing to do,” but because it is not just about us. Because this is not just our holiday. And when you’re kind, it travels, and when you’re cruel, that travels, too. Call it Karma if you’re into spiritual. Call it The Feel Good, Do Good Phenomenon if you’re into science. Call it whatever you want, but don’t be the jerk who’s shoving through shoulders to get to the last ham.
I mean, at least let it be bacon that lands you in jail.
Think about it–maybe your good deed will be enough to restore someone’s faith in humanity. Or maybe they’ll grab you the last package of bacon. Either way–winning.