I don’t feel like writing today. Actually, I don’t feel like being today.
People on social media have caused so much furor that I’ve stopped reading or posting anything that doesn’t post there automatically. I’ve considered giving up my attempt at Real Person status. Then I considered trying to be a Real Person somewhere else. Then I just considered no longer being.
Yeah, that’s where all you angry, hateful people are pushing me, and I suppose I’m not even considered one of the endangered groups.
So, no social media. I won’t be replying. I’m a sensitive soul and the majority of those posting are either jerks or chicken littles. The sky is not falling. The presidency hasn’t even changed hands yet. But I see people talking about moving, about seceding, about suicide, about revolution, and about ignoring how the Constitution is set up because it didn’t suit their definition of who should win.
The moderate people have just gone away entirely so we don’t get branded with the very large irons that are being handed out.
And that’s as much politics as I’m going to go into– or follow– for some time. Since I’m a Figment, maybe I’ll just make up my own country and go there. I’m certainly not proud to call this my Real Person home right now.
So I’ll go back to writing. There is a heavy satire in the works if I can handle the backlash. Otherwise, Figments, Bobian… I’ll live in my own fantasies. Now I just need to defeat the stubborn construction ninjas so I can get in more than 30 minutes of writing time. Which is why I only have 1002 words yesterday (not even a NaNo-goal standard) and why I will be spending all day holed up somewhere writing a lot more words. A lot.
Maybe words will at least make me want to stick around long enough to finish this book. And the next one.