Lost In Translation

The pandemic opened our doors. It made us vulnerable. It made us a little bit closer in the shared consensus of our imminent demise. But then, it went away. It fell back into its bad habits once again. It’s as if we had a near death experience and woke up on a Tuesday morning with no memory of the events that transpired. Old, familiar enemies came flooding back, and like a tv show that recycles tired stories, we grew more annoyed. 

We’re a little harsher this time. A little more set in concrete. Pushing harder against an unknowable and immovable object. Maybe because we are each complicit in the turmoil, cursing as we are try to fit a triangle peg in a square hole. It simply doesn’t fit anymore. 

It was a little less lonely for a while though wasn’t it? That undeniable feeling of everyone having the same boogeyman under the bed. It was a sense of togetherness that only occurs when the water is getting a little too close to the wick. It almost felt like there was a way to ride the great glass elevator through the roof and see where it all ended up. 

But again, here we are. 

On the raggedy edge, treating each other like those precious few who have seen us bare, and rejected us. It’s not easy to let someone in. It’s what all those love songs, breakup songs, and in-between songs sing in symphonic delight. 

Maybe we just saw each other, and are now petrified of what was revealed. 

The tragic issues are now lost soldiers wandering a forgotten battlefield. It has generals on both ends with no idea what the fight was even about, or even who is on the righteous side. However, like brave soldiers, the ideas fight blindly. They shoot into the fog in the vain hopes of hitting a stranger target on the other side. If they do that then maybe, just maybe, they’ll get a shiny new medal pinned to their lapel. 

It feels like so much is lost in translation. I believe Bob Dylan said it best when he sung “Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’”. They were not better times, but they were younger. Shit, maybe I’m just getting older but it feels to me like so many noble causes are born to be new content. There’s too many and too much to consume with any real consideration. 

This is less elegantly put together than what you’re used to, but it came from a spontaneous rabbit hole of hearing how people from all walks seemed to talk when they felt the end was nigh. I’m not saying it’s a movie I’d pay to see again, but for a brief moment we were all looking at the same thing. 

I believe we’re tired of it of course, I’m certainly tired of seeing the numbers of deaths and sickness cast thrown as breadcrumbs to us hungry seagulls. And while I would never wish to see the fear return, that togetherness was certainly sweet. If only when taken out of context of a weird world.