On the streets of Toronto, people walk past you like you don’t exist. Doesn’t matter if you’re a freak or a suit, you’re still invisible. God forbid anyone look at the homeless people curled up in dark corners and sleeping on grates.
It’s not that they’re uncaring, all those glass-eyed zombie people. It’s just that they have so much on their mind. All. The. Time.
Bills to pay, debt they’re staggering under, families to care for and job stress that’s not going anywhere anytime soon. And job security? Think again.
You? Not even on the radar. It’s easy to ignore people you don’t even know.
The Internet is a lot like that.
Far cry from the town of 1200 I grew up in, where everyone knew everyone and every able-bodied man showed up to help rebuild uncle’s barn when it burned to the ground, taking his best mare with it.
Where every woman showed up carrying food when the neighbor’s baby died barely a year after she’d buried her husband, poor thing. Muttering how the food ain’t much help, but they had to do something.
Nosey as all get out, mind you, whispering secrets over piecrust and threshing machines. Because it ain’t just the old women minding your business for you, and that’s a promise.
But you knew if worst came to worst they’d be there with their sleeves rolled up. If it took a village, you knew you had one.
The Internet is a lot like that, too.
Human connection is all there is, and ever was. You have it, or you don’t. You want it, or you don’t.
Either way, your choice walks into every room before you. We’re not dumb. We can tell. We know where give and take lives.
Everywhere you look, there’s people wondering how to get readers, users, views and traffic. So easy to forget, I think, that the internet isn’t so much a place as it is a method of communication. A way to connect.
We’re not eyeballs or traffic. We never were.
We’re just people, with all our pluses and minuses and biases and feelings. We cry the same tears. Bleed the same blood. And if you don’t want to make real connections from a place of humanity, that’s okay. Someone else will.
“Personally, I am very fond of strawberries and cream, but I have found that for some strange reason, fish prefer worms.” — Dale Carnegie