Not This Time

I said a long time ago that once I decided to stick to a blogging schedule, it meant that I was worried that some weeks might make it harder to write than others. At the time, I worried about being super busy at work and cooped up in the office. I have to admit that I did not have pandemic, police brutality, and riots on my bingo card. This week has been harder than all the ones that came before it to write something amusing.

I've come close to missing my deadline a few times, but I've usually managed to come through with an amusing anecdote for the week. It helps to regulate my outlook on life, in a way. If I can point to at least one thing, even one small, insignificant thing that made me laugh, then I'll at least have that one thing to provide a little bit of light.

This week, though, has felt different. I can't explain why, because I am, unfortunately, old enough and aware enough to have lived through events like this before. I remember the names of Rodney King and Eric Garner easily; I know their stories, and I have felt this outrage before. They're not even the only ones. The list goes on and on and on. This time, though, something is different. Maybe I finally hit my breaking point or maybe I'm just getting older, but this time has bothered me a lot more than before. This is not okay.

That left me with a decision to make for this week: what do I write about? I actually have a small list of items that I have teed up over the past few weeks, so I could have just picked something from there and ran with it. Deciding what to write about is always the hardest part of this process, so it would've been relatively straight-forward to just knock it out. Obviously, I didn't do that. Instead, I chose to write about other emotions that I'm feeling.

I think the "why" is probably worth exploring. I'm not black, and I have never had my parents talk to me about the police. So, then, what is all this about? Well, the George Floyd video hit a nerve. A human being was taken from this world in a sadistic way, and it bugs me. The callousness, the casual application of violence, it wasn't right. Even in contact sports that promote violent collisions, the minute that real harm becomes a possibility, everyone stops what they're doing. If you've ever seen a team of football players kneel in a circle when someone blows out their knee or is unconscious for a time, you know what I'm talking about. The score doesn't matter in those minutes. It's about that player, as a human being, and hoping that they're okay. Even MMA fighters who are trying to hurt each other show respect for their opponent. This was the exact opposite, and I don't want any part of that.

So, for this week, I'm going to choose to forego the anecdote. It is my way of processing things, of putting out something into the world. I know it is a tiny, insignificant thing compared to all of the other ways that people are showing their support, but it just feels like something I should do. I'm sure I will have a story or a joke of some sort to share next week, but not this week.