"I'm so tired of America"

I find it creepy the way the internet appears to read your thoughts these days, a song comes up on Spotify that speaks your mind entirely. Though, this thought is no secret: I do not want to live in America (for the purpose of this article, I mean the US and A).

If I were to personify it, America is perpetually like a thirteen year old boy who is easily entertained, unaware of his own ignorance, emotionally fueled by emerging hormones, hopeful but naive as fuck, with a sense of personal space of a bull in a china shop. He consumes crap and thinks it's the best thing ever because everyone else is doing it so does it even matter if it's good? His sense of humor hasn't graduated from the 7th grade, nor his sexuality. He hasn't yet seen the world, but talks like he owns it because he takes History class (not by choice).

This boy is sad to watch. He doesn't know what he doesn't know but doesn't realize it and talks like he does. He breaks hearts, he's irrational, he has access to too many weapons in too many forms, both literally and metaphorically. He thinks he's immensely learned and intelligent (because everyone tells him so) but inside he's terrified, so he packages his fears in a pretty present of demands and expectations.

I used to teach art to middle schoolers. They were my favorite age to teach because they took art so seriously. It was like some profound craft, or maybe they were just beginning to experience the existential buddings of loneliness, and realized art was a constant companion. So it's not that I hate teenagers; I admire them when they are reflective, introspective and respectful about the unknown and their insignificance in it. If America was my student, he wouldn't be. He would be that one student cutting art class for being too sissy.

Growing up with a different culture at home had the advantage of always having an outside perspective, like a school administrator observing a classroom. Is America a problem child? How does he compare to the other students? Is he going to graduate? How do we identify him in the classroom hierarchy? Class clown? Jock? Bully? 

I made these observations from the comfort of my own head, trying to make sense as to why America acted the way it did. Why does America obsess over selling a perfect facade? It would rather sell something desirable over something real. My dad always says, "we're all prostitutes, it's just a matter of how much." So America is the boy that turns into an exotic dancer, who never ages and sells you a fantasy for your bachelorette weekend. Except it's not even as feminist as that, it's doing all that in a corporate suit and expecting you to dance for him.

I'm super tired at not being enough for America. Trying to sugar coat something as good news when it's really bad. Trying to look fresh when you're really just tired. Trying to feed the machine of success, dreams, passions, meaning. Trying to please a thirteen year old boy who doesn't even know what he wants from himself.