Just Guyton

This morning, while scrolling through social media, I noticed something.

There’s never any good news.

It’s always something bad, something sad, something tragic—and way less magic.

Apparently, nobody wants to wake up, grab their coffee, open the news, and have it sing “Joy to the World.”

I mentioned this to my husband while we were walking this morning, and Chris summed it up rather simply:

“The only thing that sells newspapers is doom and gloom.”

Well, that’s cheerful.

The funny thing is, when I was younger, I thought being a journalist would be one of the coolest jobs in the world. I imagined growing up and becoming someone like Barbara Walters or Diane Sawyer.

Then I got interviewed by the local news.

I was supposed to go to Atlanta to work during the Olympics, but the bus that was supposed to take us never came. Everybody from my area who was supposed to go ended up getting interviewed about it.

And when the story aired, I learned something about television news: what you say and what eventually makes it onto television can be two very different things.

Things get chopped. Things get edited. A whole experience gets condensed into the little piece that makes the story.

That dream lost a little of its sparkle after that.

Fast-forward to today, and we don’t even have to turn on the television or open a newspaper to get our daily dose of doom and gloom.

We carry it around in our pockets.

Open social media and there it is.

Bad news. Sad news. Tragic news.

And then, just in case the original post wasn’t depressing enough, you can scroll down to the comments and find people belittling and degrading complete strangers.

Why?

You can offer a kind word. You can offer something helpful. Or you can simply keep scrolling.

Not every post requires your opinion, especially when the only thing you’re bringing to the conversation is negativity.

Sometimes scrolling past is free.

I checked.

There isn’t even a service charge.

And here’s another revolutionary discovery: there’s a little X at the top of a post.

Don’t like something? Don’t interact with it.

Don’t like something? Don’t read it.

Don’t like something? Don’t look at it.

Don’t like something?

I think you get my point.

You can click that little X and tell the algorithm, “Don’t show me posts like this.”

Imagine that.

We have technology.

Now, you can’t control every single thing an algorithm decides to put in front of you. But you do have some control over what happens next.

You decide whether you click it.

You decide whether you spend twenty minutes reading the comments.

You decide whether you jump into an argument with somebody you’ve never met.

And you decide whether you tell the algorithm you want to see more of it.

If you spend all day interacting with things that make you angry, don’t be surprised when the internet decides anger is your favorite hobby.

I’m choosing something different.

I’m not an artist, so I’m going to post my silly little AI pictures.

But I am a writer, so I’m also going to write some pretty amazing stuff.

That’s what I have to contribute.

Maybe you paint.

Maybe you bake.

Maybe you grow flowers.

Maybe you tell terrible dad jokes.

Maybe today your contribution is simply telling somebody, “Hey, you’re doing a good job.”

Whatever you’ve got, put a little more of that into the world.

Because we’re all contributing something to the feeds we complain about.

Every morning, I get up and do my normal routine. I write my blog, and then I put it out there on my social media pages.

I’m not begging anybody to like it, follow me, or share it.

I’m simply putting my words out into the world.

I’d love it if you grabbed your coffee, pulled up a chair, and stayed awhile.

Nobody’s forcing you to.

But you’re certainly invited.

There’s enough doom and gloom out there.

Around here, I’m saving a little room for the magic.

— GUYTON