If, like me, you're an early onset curmudgeon the main symptom of which being an involuntary critic of... everything, life as we know it on the Internet can be both salve and salt in your wounds. Especially when it comes to the status message philosopher.
You know the ones. The e-Dr. Phils filling up your timeline like a tank at the gas station with so much superfluous fuel? The people who consistently eblast the rest of us with 140 characters of trusims like, "Be the change you want to see in the world" and "Dance like nobody's watching" or "You miss 100 percent of the shots you don't take." It's like cliche spam for the virtual soul.
Because I've been operating under a mask of cool detachment since sixth grade when I learned that being so over it was the only way out from under the cloud of geekdom, I always try to scroll through my endless ticker of tweets for thought with little of my own. I've tried to trick myself into believing I'm above the fray of banal Internet fertilizer.
But here's the thing -- I LOVE the smell of inspirational napalm in the morning! Just like how I pretend to not be paying attention with the flight attendant points out the nearest emergency exits on the plane and that my seat can be used as a floatation device, knowing that somewhere out there in the vast nowhereness of the Internet there are little parachutes of inspiration calms my nerves. Somebody out there, somebody I don't know, wants to make me happy with a cheesy quote about overcoming my fears and knocking on a metaphorical door and not "playing small" once I step through it. It's like walking around with a tiny life coach in your pocket.
Therefore I say hip hip hooray for the lady who tweeted, "Happiness is hidden everywhere; you just have to look for it" and the one who quoted Hemingway, "It takes two years to learn to speak and 60 to learn to keep quiet" and the guy who tweeted, "The door to opportunity is always labeled 'PUSH.'" You all are heroes to me, saving me from my own cynicism on the days I sit poised to fire off angry missives about how everybody's a critic. Nope, that's just me.
Why don't we start our own stream of daily aphorisms with an xojane twist? I mean Ben Franklin can't the only game in town. Okay, I'll start: "A spoonful on funny will catch more good guys than a gallon of vagina." Fine that was terrible. Help!