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I have trouble giving up on people.

It’s not just people, though. It’s more accurate to say I have trouble giving up on whatever fantasy of the future that I’ve created in my mind. Sometimes that involves people. Sometimes it’s an achievement I’ve set my heart on. It can be any fantasy of what I think my life is going to look like.

I fall in love with my fantasies, I suppose. My life will be perfect when I make this thing happen. Everything will be perfect when this woman loves me and we live happily ever after.

And when I figure out that I’ve been chasing the wrong thing, I have trouble letting go of it. I have trouble saying that this thing is never going to happen. It’s hard for me to admit that maybe the thing I’ve been chasing was never good for me anyway.

When I stubbornly cling to dreams that are already dead, I sometimes allow myself to miss better opportunities. I sometimes mope so much about what I can’t have — even something I’ve decided isn’t good for me — that I miss better choices.

It’s been very difficult for me to stop watering dead flowers.

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Have you ever wondered what cats do when you’re not home? What might they be hiding from you? Welcome to the secret neighborhood “Cat Rave on Thomas Avenue.”

Just don’t let the humans know about it.

This is the latest of my ridiculous parody videos that I started making a few months ago. My first few videos were very simple, but the last few have gotten increasingly complex. This one is the most complicated and was the most time-consuming.

I’ve been enjoying these as a creative outlet, but they’re not worth a nickel. Very few people have found the YouTube channel where I’ve started posting them, so I’d appreciate it if you would “like” some of them and subscribe to the account if you use YouTube.

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Facebook recently told me that I needed to convert my personal account into a “content creator” account. Why? I have no idea.

As a minor show of rebellion, I changed my work title on there to “discontent creator.” Because I refuse to define my work as “content.”

I hate that word.

To the current culture, a novel is content. A film or documentary is content. A poem is content. A painting is content. A thoughtful essay is content. A comedy sketch is content. A cat falling off a table is content as long as a camera is running.

The word treats all of those things as interchangeable cogs in a system whose purpose is to capture attention long enough for someone to show ads. I don’t object to someone making money, but I do object to a soulless system which offers no real value for the attention it steals.

I don’t want to create content.

I want to write.

I want to make films.

I want to create images.

I want to communicate ideas and feelings.

I want to create connections with others.

Those distinctions matter.

Some people vaguely object to social media “content” because it’s poor quality slop, but that’s far too simplistic.

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