I Write A Blog Now. Blog’s Are Cool.

I was always writing a blog. Just not in a timely manner.

Listen. This is the year of reliving my past.

I haven’t died. I’m not pouring emo-statically over old vhs tapes of sisters flipping off swings, or fathers falling in tubs.

I’m being force fed a plethora of repackaged, re-constituted, watered-down, smarmalade-laden, well loved and oft-quoted chunks from my formative media-tainment years.

I’m having, it would seem, a bit of a hard time with it. it feels like I got shoved into a brightly lit column of “This Is Your Life”.

Here’s the rub – Ignorance really winds me up. Like – “I can’t be bothered” ignorance. I’ll explain.

See – here’s the thing. When I was a kid, I had to work a little harder to get the next scrap of happy happy joy joy input from my favorite characters and stories. Cue Whine and Camembert. 1000 tiny violins a’ violining.

Episodes seemed to take forever to arrive. I had only my toys and my dad to bounce my ideas off of, and I only now appreciate his exceedingly generous patience.

I READ Tv guide. Cover to cover. Every. Single. Week.

And I developed a humble and hallowed respect for those stories that found their starts in more classical works, or were at least older than me. I delighted in their unveiling.

So I made the effort to learn about them. I enjoyed the history. The time and care given to the formation of the background. The colour and the shape.

And here we are in 2013.

The internet has effectively levelled the once impenetrable wall of time and frustration for those waiting to immerse themselves in their shared worlds of wonder. It’s here. it’s all here. Piles and piles of it. All for you.

However – in it’s place has arisen a culture of instant gratification and must-needs-have-now demand that has chopped away some of the enjoyment of “waiting til the folks are up to open the presents under the tree”-iness.

It is entirely possible i am being an ass, shaking my cane at young uns, gripping my towel and straightening my decorative vegetable in a harumph.

But now – yes, even NOW – I can see a new take on an old theme, appreciate the vision (even if i disagree with it). But I still take the time to learn about it. To immerse myself in this new tome. In some cases, I’ve even been pleasantly surprised, and my faith restored in the sacred and the wounded word.

But I shake my head. I crease my brow. And I feel a little sadder. Because a lot more often lately, I am having to come to terms with the fact that what may have been made before, may be made again. And theres a lot of folks that just don’t care about what was made before.

George Santayana said “Those who can not remember the past, are doomed to repeat it”. This isn’t just something to say. It’s a mantra. It’s a way of life. And it applies to our hearts, our minds, our science, our politics, our art.

I pass on my love of rich worlds of various creation to my children. I show them the things they want to see, and some things they don’t. I guide them through the past, share with them the present, and marvel with them at the future.

At some point, they will continue the journey without me.

But i hope, if nothing else, they will have learned to appreciate the world around them. Enjoy the world in front of them. And are thankful of the world behind them.

Otherwise, I should really get off my ass, make like a tree, and reverse the polarity of the neutron flow.