If anyone thinks I’m ready for a post in Esperanto… Well, that one is not me. Someday, though. Not that anyone is eager for it. Except me, funnily enough.
The world depresses me a good deal. I spend a lot of my time hearing inane or outright stupid statements that undermine my belief in even reading books, let alone writing them.
It’s hard to care about crafting a sympathetic, strong character when all the next generation needed to like Harry Potter was to be told to? It doesn’t even seem to be an age thing. I desperately wish it was a Harry Porter thing. I understand social phenomena (as much as one can).
But I don’t get this… this… obedience. It’s bizarre and creepy.Kids who can’t obey their dad telling them to stop hitting each other will like Gumball because he’s the titular character. They used to have reasons to like a particular power ranger. She’s a pretty girl. He makes the best jokes. He’s an antihero.
I asked a little girl why she likes Harry “best”. Her answer? I tell no lie, and give it verbatim: “Because he got married.”
This world disgusts and repulses me to my core.
But I’ll survive. And maybe I’ll get over it. It’s just hard to live in a world with lower creative standards than mine.