LIFE’S BIG UNANSWERED QUESTIONS
Take Your Comments to the Next Level
Stop writing, start commenting
Ever since my comments got boosted, I realized I was wasting my energy.
Why write my own material when I can just react to everyone else's?
Have you seen how popular reaction videos are?
Comments are the reaction videos of internet writing.
This guy didn’t have to be Johnny Cash. He only needed to react to Johnny Cash. Amazing. Let’s face it. Not everyone is Johnny Cash. Most of us are in the audience. Were, past tense, in the audience.
Look at Twitter. I know. You want to look away, but look over for a second.
Occasionally someone comes up with some original content, but for the most part, it’s reactions.
Take these actors reading Twitter comments about them. The Twitter comments are literally reactions to feeling about actors.
It’s the same with comments. We write stories and the comments are a story on their own. The following comments about my post were more informative than my actual story. Cool, right?
Being a content creator is exhausting. I have to read newspapers, books, make thoughtful observations about the world, occasionally delve into my chaotic inner world, and recognize my own personal character flaws — blech. No, gracias.
Why write when I can just read and react?
I will have more time for eating, sleeping, and swimming. I’m a swimmer, and when I’m tired, I’d rather swim behind someone than swim in front of someone.
Why?
Because they’re clearing the path for me. They’re smoothing the surface. They’re shoving aside the resistance. Swimming in the wake is like being Moses.
Moses felt the same. He was like “God. Help me out. I’m working my tuchas off here, man. Help a dude out.”
Life is hard enough already. Do you have any idea how many socks I wash every week?
My neighbor's garage is broken so I had to move my desk by the window to make sure no one breaks into their house. Exhausting.
Who has time for creating content?
There is a teenager living in my house. His floor is carpeted with dirty t-shirts and if I let him make his own lunch, it’s cheese puffs from Walgreens.
Don’t get me started on how much well-intended unsolicited advice I have to wade through every week. Digging through that data minefield is enough to make me a narcoleptic.
On the other hand, I just wrote this. Is it Joan Didion? No. Stephen King? Hardly.
However, the world remains choc-filled-with unanswered questions that I feel compelled to delve into. Can I do that just by commenting? No. Can some people? Yes, I’ve seen it.
Some commenters provide more content than the story itself. But not me. I comment with emojis and trite wit.
Maybe by continuing to write, I’ll discover the meaning of life. My life. Not your life. You got a problem with that? Leave a comment.
