The caretaker

I think Facebook cheapens emotions. Well, not Facebook only…not in and of itself. But Facebook is the dominant vehicle for cheapening of emotions. All socially intertwined facets of cyber communication share the blame. All mediums of communication that rely on small and unyielding keypads and fast-paced assembly of communication contribute to cheapen emotion.

All social e-wastelands commoditize emotions and are rife with “tritisms.” People spew tritisms in an tireless series of lonely monologues which are ultimately greeted with reciprocating tritisms and pretty soon we have one happy, gooey, disgusting party of tritisms and inauthentic camaraderie. When emotions are expressed in abundance they become mindless and devoid of sincerity. They become solely robotic words which lack the life force to sustain the emotion they supposedly announce.

It reminds how sometimes you encounter people in the hallways or on the street, and they automatically recite something like, “Hey David, how’s it going?” and as we pass I’ll say, “Good, thanks…!” and before I can finish, they continue, barely cognizant of my incomplete answer, “I’m good, thanks!” Socially, we are rehearsed and unimaginative creatures and we conduct our wry lives according to the plasticized and cookie cutter script we carry around in our pockets, but it doesn’t matter, for we’ve memorized it. We are roles on a stage, we are prefabricated social characters and tonight we fill this role and we are adept at repeating the social roles assigned. The dialogue is preset and hammered out like a steel girder our rail car must obey.

In the socially networked world with its fragmentary blurbs of half-assed thought, this has become increasingly common. Not to sound “sexist,” (never), most of the offenders are women. They shower their girlfriends with the faintest and most meaningless of niceties, a barrage of hollow platitudes. And their friends repeat the vacuous cheer right back, in incrementally increasing level of atrocious phoniness.

Lately I’ve noted the ever ubiquitous “miss you” in many forms and architectures, but always, it lacks sincerity and genuine measure of anguish. Miss you! Miss you alot! Miss you both! I see this phrase so often that I often wonder if “miss you” has become code for the simple, time-tested “hi!”

See, the emotion is cheapened beyond repair because I wonder if these empty-headed puppet drones even realize what it is to truly miss someone. To miss someone, when it’s a genuine article of soul-wrenching pain, is the most anguished state of helplessness someone can feel.

Missing someone means that the space they’ve left in their absence is filled with pulsing memories, and beyond that, a presence of the spirit they’ve vacated in your mind. To miss someone is to have lost a portion of your soul which will not be filled until they return, or if they never will return, never. We are whole beings and we apportion out parcels of our soul to others and we entrust them with our existence, a mutual sense of need and affirmation. The real estate is private and precious and when they are not in our life, for a day or for an eternity, it rests vacant with the life force planted in their absence.

They’ve left us to oversee the hollowness, and we are the caretaker.

The caretaker’s task is lonely and sad and distended with a longing hunger that cannot be quenched in this reality.

The caretaker misses you but he will not mindlessly notate it for the thought cannot escape the hungry grip of his heart.