Go to the mirror, boy — and think before you touch that button.

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Things I wrote today at Facebook.

Thinking back and trying to be honest about it, I was fairly ignorant about the world while in high school. That’s the best case scenario, because I can’t deny there were times when I was willfully stupid — and during those times, it isn’t clear to me that any amount of input from adults would have made a difference.

I didn’t attend a culturally diverse high school, and there’s no getting around the fact that growing up in a monoculture quite naturally made it difficult to grasp cultural diversity. Forty years later, with the customary ups and downs under my belt, I’m hesitant to assert much at all about the state of my consciousness apart from an acceptance that there’s so very much left to learn. Maybe I’m “better,” and maybe not, because after all, it’s a journey.

Kids are immature jackasses? Yes they are, and I need only look in the mirror to be reminded of it.

(a few hours later)

I posted these thoughts earlier in the afternoon, then wrote for a bit off-line. Later came a nap, some reading and bowls of chili. Thanks for the comments, which I haven’t read yet.

Before I do, of course I’m aware of the Covington students and whatever transpired in DC yesterday. However, the words I wrote three hours ago didn’t explicitly mention this episode, the latest in a series of quickly forgotten hot buttons that I’m intended to press to help divert my attention from the only entity I’m truly capable of changing (or not), which is ME.

Every single day, each one of us decries one “bad” thing while actively perpetuating another “good” outcome. Problem is, we seem to increasingly detest each other. Speaking only for myself, I’m trying to pause before hitting the button, if for no other reason than this being what I’m now expected to do, but moreover, undertaking to examine the button through the fulcrum of my own conscience.

Maybe the speed of my reaction is of less importance than determining whether a reaction is even merited. Pavlov’s dog is great on paper, but I’m tired of salivating on demand.

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