Waiting for the ships to land…

There are days I just wish the extra terrestrials would land and take over or that the evil robot overlords would finally move out from behind their clever disguises. Those appliances lining my kitchen counter are just biding their time, I know it. How long before they become sentient and just start rooting through my things while I sleep?

There are some days when being ruled by a giant toaster sounds pretty good, I admit. Generally I feel this way after a week of political debates or theological arguments. Suffice it to say, this being an election year and weird American commercial theology being what it is, I’m looking a little more carefully at my toaster these days.

Arguing politics and theology wears me out or maybe it just bores me. I’m no rocket scientist but I think I do alright where cogent discussion is concerned. I can follow a stream of conversation, I can add in my own understanding of things. I confess, I’d rather buy the golden rule than buy gold even knowing it’s possible it’ll come back and bite me on the ass later. Maybe I’m a sucker for hoping that the good in people will win out eventually.

I’m posting today because honestly I don’t know how I’m going to last out this election cycle. Between the graphs about who is responsible for the US Debt and the fake email warnings about the president being a secret Muslim and the passive aggressive tweets or FB statuses about the State of the Union address or the state of the church in America I just don’t know how to maintain the “peaceful” and “loving” attitude I’ve hoped to muster in times like this.

The best solution I can consider is to go into a cave somewhere absent all forms of communication and wait it out. Some of my less techie friends think this is an awesome solution for me. They already believe I’m over-loaded electronically and they’re not wrong. That’s why I keep them around. Sometimes I actually listen to them. Sometimes.

It’s a crazy thing, waiting for the aliens to land.

My older brother used to scare me with stories about aliens, sneaking into our window in the middle of the night. He’d say they were gathering information on us, that we wouldn’t even know they had come except for maybe a blurry memory or a strange dream or a bruise a day or so later we don’t remember getting. I slept with my head under the covers for longer than I care to admit. I wasn’t afraid that they were coming to take over the world. I was afraid only for myself and maybe for my sister who shared the room with me. Then again, I didn’t know much about the world then. When I was a kid the big world outside my own neighborhood was not even on my radar. Why would it be?

The news of the world is hard on grown ups. Being a grown up is hard on grown ups. And I’m tired. I mediate fights all day long between my children, it’s exhausting. I don’t want to watch Congress act the way my children do when they are fighting over pie or television or which cartoon hero is better. What leads me into depression around these conversations is that EVERYONE THINKS THEY ARE RIGHT. No one is willing to consider the other view. Have you ever tried to mediate an argument in which everyone thinks they are right and there is no convincing the other party to consider shifting their position? Cherry pie lovers are notoriously unmovable where lemon meringue is concerned. It’s fruitless.

The bottom line here is that I am sick of swimming through the bullshit of modern politics and american cultural weirdness and I don’t see that changing in my lifetime. It’s depressing. That’s defeatist, I know. Sorry about that. If I held to my belief system I suppose I’d pull myself out of that and join Occupy Wall Street or make a stand of some kind against the wall of overwhelming before me. I’d take action. Maybe. But I’m tired.

It’s easier to hope that my toaster comes to life.