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David McElroy

An Alien Sent to Observe the Human Race

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With changed priorities, it’s time to re-evaluate my long-term goal

By David McElroy · May 13, 2014

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When I launched this site three years ago today, the intended audience was only one person. Everything was written for her — in the hopes that she would find it and come back into my life. My hopes were rewarded. Sort of.

She came back into my life — in and out, back and forth — for most of the past three years. She was an avid reader of the site almost from the beginning. Then she became a regular commenter, first using a pseudonym and then using her real name (and a goofy picture with a wig).

She’s no longer a reader here and no longer part of my life. The details don’t really matter that much at this point. The psychology of what happened is actually very interesting, but it’s not in her best interest that the full story be told, so I won’t.

The only reason I tell you this story is to say that I started writing here with a surface-level purpose — which was quite real and honest — but always with a deeper and more important underlying purpose. Now that underlying purpose is completely gone, and I’m not sure anymore what my goals here are.

I haven’t been writing very much for months now. For nearly two years of the site’s existence, I wrote at least one article almost every day. For a long stretch of time, I also had a second article each day — written by the “staff monkeys” — with links of the day. I went through a lot of changes as a result of this experience, and it’s affected what I’m willing to write.

When I was trying to build an audience in the beginning, I was still willing to do what almost every political writer does. Much of what I wrote was “red meat” directed toward the existing biases of my audience. I learned which sorts of stories would get people riled up, because it was when they were angry or disgusted by something that they would share links with their friends, mostly on Facebook.

That’s what almost everyone else who writes about politics does, right? Or at least the successful ones. They find some outrageous story that makes their side look good and the other side (or sides) look bad and then they re-write it with a spin designed to appeal to their allies.

I did a good number of those stories. I also did a good number of the stories I thought were more important — the kind that talked about ideas and what we might be able to do to break free if we could just find each other in big enough numbers and learn from one another. The “red meat” stories typically had big readership numbers. The pieces I thought were important had mediocre readership.

I haven’t gone back and deleted the old “red meat” stories. That would seem dishonest. I wouldn’t write those stories today, because they were pandering to people who already agreed with me on some subject or other. They weren’t really interesting and they weren’t good for starting serious conversations.

Although I mostly started writing about politics and ideas related to political philosophy, I eventually started writing more and more about much more personal things. In many of those very personal articles, you can tell who the intended audience really was if you’re paying attention. Yes, it was her, of course. Much of what I had to say was a long and thinly veiled exposition of my views about what is most important in life. It was all part of a long-form persuasive pamphlet which said, “Choose me,” to one specific woman.

Although we went through a long period when we were talking on the phone for hours each day, I haven’t spoken to her since last June, when she called me from a bridge one night. I haven’t even heard from her by email since December. I was still oddly hooked on her and I couldn’t let her go. The last time I sent her something was an appropriate day. I mailed something to her on April 1 — April Fool’s Day.

A few nights later, I woke up in the wee hours of the night and thought long and hard about the last three years — of disappointment, dishonesty, disillusionment and denial. For the first time, I realized I was ready to completely let her go. I woke up the next morning and blocked her on Facebook, and that symbolic action was the end of a dysfunctional play that started almost 10 years ago. I was finally free of her. (It was just a week or so later that I found out something that confirmed I’d done the right thing.)

I’ve spent about a month re-interpreting my own narrative of the last five years and especially the last three years. I’ve had to go through some real anger about things I’ve had to accept, because I’d worked really hard to avoid seeing some ugly things that I didn’t want to see. Deep down, I knew that I was in denial, but I was determined to see this through to the end.

I don’t believe in giving up on something I want, because I have an odd determination to stick with something if I truly want it. I didn’t give up on her. I had to reach the point that I didn’t want her. I had to reach the point at which I no longer had anything to say to her. And that brings me back to this site.

She was my audience three years ago, but she’s not anymore. I’m not sure what I want to say and I’m not sure who wants to hear it.

I need to rephrase that sentence, because the first part isn’t quite right. I have more to say than ever, but I’m not sure who wants to hear it. I’m not sure there’s much of an audience — and without a substantial audience, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.

I discovered through the early days of this site that I know how to attract an audience, but I also learned that I’m not willing to do the things that do that. I’m not willing to make people angry at each other just to build an audience and make a name for myself. (I guess that rules out opportunities on talk radio or on cable news.) That’s just not who I am, and I don’t like myself when I try to do it.

At this point, I only have in the neighborhood of 500 visitors each day, even less some days. (My best day ever was slightly more than 30,000.) But considering that most of my readers now are people just doing online searches that lead to old articles, I’m probably lucky to have the audience that I do.

So what is the site to become?

I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that and I still don’t know. On one level, the overt purposes the site originally had are still just as valid, but I have less and less interest in writing about politics. I’m not convinced that any of us ever change anybody else’s mind, and I see no reason to waste my time to write things that will be applauded by my allies and attacked by those who disagree. What’s the purpose in that? For me, not much, when there are more worthwhile ways to spend my time.

I have a lot to say, but I don’t know how much of it is worth saying here, because it’s time-consuming to write regularly. And the audience dwindles when I don’t write regularly.

Is there an audience for what I want to say? Is this the best way to express my ideas, thoughts and feelings? Is there a better way? Is there a way that I can make a living expressing what’s important to me, but in a way that people who will find it beneficial can find it amidst all the clutter of junk online?

I don’t know the answers to any of those questions. All I know is that what I post here will almost certainly continue to be sporadic until I figure those things out. I’ll probably post some things that happen to mean enough to me to say something. Every now and then, something I say might even push some of the old political buttons. I don’t know.

I put on a three-year play which was directed toward an audience of one, even though I invited others to read along, too. She watched my play and came back again and again for more. But I finally decided I had nothing else to say to her. So that play is over.

I don’t know what I’ll do with this site. It won’t go away, but I don’t know how much I’ll be adding or what the subject matter might be. Eventually, another curtain will rise on a different performance. The intended audience will be different this time.

I just have to decide what I’d like to say that some audience might find beneficial to hear. I appreciate those of you who’ve read the site for the last three years. I hope I can do something in the future that might interest you. Only time will tell what that might be.

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Ever since a neighbor strung some decorative light Ever since a neighbor strung some decorative lights in his back yard a year or so ago, I’ve been trying to figure out how to photograph them. In person, the effect is stunning on the yard, but I’ve struggled to figure out any sort of perspective that would be interesting. I’m still not entirely happy with this, but it’s th best I’ve been able to come up with so far. #lights #backyard #birmingham #alabama
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The moonlight is bright and widely diffused in the The moonlight is bright and widely diffused in the heavy fog in my neighborhood tonight. #moonlight #trees #night #birmingham #alabama
This was the Birmingham sunset just a few minutes This was the Birmingham sunset just a few minutes before 5 p.m. Wednesday. #nature #naturephotography #sky #colorful #clouds #sunset #birmingham #alabama
I just remembered a photo I took as I walked out o I just remembered a photo I took as I walked out of my front door at lunch to come back to the office. As you can see, we still have quite a few leaves on most of our trees. #nature #naturephotography #sky #tree #autumn #birmingham #alabama
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Hours after her actual dinner, Molly sits at her b Hours after her actual dinner, Molly sits at her bowl, apparently waiting for “second dinner” to arrive. On the left side of her face, you can see where she hurt herself with her claws one day last week while she had an eye infection. The infection is gone and the claw mark is healing, too. #cat #cats #catstagram #catsofinstagram #cute #cutecat #pets #petstagram #petsofinstagram #greeneyes #instacat #ilovecats #birmingham #alabama
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I’ve never been attracted to skinny women. There’s nothing wrong with someone who’s naturally thin, but it’s never been my preference. What has shocked me, though, is the judgment I’ve heard from women all through my life — about themselves and others — about who’s “fat.” I concluded long ago that most women in our culture have been brainwashed to believe that skinny is attractive — and that anything other than skinny is ugly. I first assumed that I was the oddball — for preferring women with bigger and heavier bodies — but I’m coming to the conclusion that most men naturally feel this way to one extent or another. I just ran across new research by a couple of Northwestern University psychology professors that shows that women seriously overestimate how much a straight man will be attracted to a skinny woman. In a perfect world, we would all be at a healthy weight, but when it comes to attractiveness, too heavy is more attractive than skinny. At least to me — and to a lot of men, too.

Years ago, I heard a question that seemed very insightful at the time. You’ve probably heard it, too. What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? The question is intended to help you uncover things you really want to do, but which you’re afraid to try — for fear of failure. In an interview today, I heard the great marketing guru Seth Godin give a different point of view. He said the better question is to ask what you would do even if you knew it would fail. That struck me as far more insightful than the original version. We ought to be doing what we know is right, not what will maximize our success or praise from others. There are some battles that are worth fighting even if you believe you’re doomed to failure. Those battles are often for love or important ideas or our children. Some things are simply worth fighting for — and the truth is that you might win anyway. Do the right thing. Take the chance.

The more I understand about myself, about human nature and about the nature of reality, the more I realize I’m a radical by the standards of both Modernism and Postmodernism. Seeing the things which I’m stumbling toward makes me an enemy of many of the core ideas upon which contemporary culture is built. It exposes the culture as a monstrous lie — like a dangerous infection that’s slowly destroying what human were created to be. My “inner observer” has always known that truth was found in the ideas of the Enlightenment, but I’m slowly finding words to explain what has merely been instinct until now. The Enlightenment was humanity’s great leap forward, but shallow and arrogant thinkers for the next two centuries threw away the fruits of that achievement. We can’t go forward as a species until we go back to correct this intellectual and spiritual error — and part of that is acknowledging that our collective attempts to do away with our Creator will always fail.

I’ve come to believe that some of us — including me — aren’t very good at knowing how to be happy. I don’t mean that in the sense that happy talk and positive thinking should be able to make us happy regardless of the circumstances. I mean that some of us had so much experience with being unhappy when we were young that we were trained to be unhappy — and that being happy is an unconsciously uncomfortable thing. When I look at times in my past when I should have been happy, it rarely lasted. I believe now that I found reasons to be unhappy — and caused real problems for myself — because being comfortable and happy felt so foreign to my programming. If I’m right, this means that some of us have to do more than just change our circumstances. It means we have to learn how to accept the happiness that we unconsciously fear we don’t deserve.

After I wrote last night about being happy, I thought of an old song that mirrored what I was feeling. After listening to the entire album, I found it remarkable how well the emotions of that music match my own heart at this point in my life. Bob Bennett’s “Matters of the Heart” came out while I was in college. Even after all these years, it holds up really well, and you can listen to the entire album on YouTube. The specific song which matched my feelings last night was “Madness Dancing,” but I still find every song on the album to be strong with the exception of the eighth and ninth. (The song about his parents, called “1951,” is especially poignant.) In fact, the opening and closing songs paint a picture of my heart at its best now in these lines: “A light shining in this heart of darkness, A new beginning and a miracle, Day by day the integration of the concrete and the spiritual.” It’s old music that you’ve probably never heard, but it means a lot to me.

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