I started this blog many moons ago as an assignment during my University days. I was forced, in a graded way, to speak. Speak about books and theories. And I did. And I graduated. But time went by and this blog sat dormant. Work took over my days and the nights… Well, the nights are for gin and tonics and early bed times. I find myself ready to speak again. Ready to scream, actually.
The degree waits to be used for that perfect career opportunity and I spend time drinking tea on my balcony and accidentally ‘Rear Windowing’ my neighbors. Some make it easy; displaying their dirty laundry for the entire complex to hear. A silly conversation, or a half-drunken argument about who really won the last hand of poker… I laugh it off and re-enter my safe little bubble. But tonight, ah tonight I hold onto the happenings.
I watched, speechless while a little boy grabbed a helpless, teeny little puppy by its foot and flipped it into the air, only to laugh as it landed on the ground. It happened again and again-so fast until a shriek came out of my mouth, which promptly scared the boy back into his little bubble. While this is not the first questionable encounter I have seen between boy and PUPPY, I was resolved to make it the last. After a ridiculous amount of phone calls to countless shelters and animal cruelty in investigators, I am still no closer to saving this defenseless, wordless little soul. But I’m not giving up.
As an avid Walking Dead fanatic, I grew complacent to the violence rather quickly. The idea of ‘survival of the fittest’ seemed uncomfortable but necessary in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. I’m rambling, but there is a point. Fellow Dead fans know how fast young Carl grows up in this world. They also see his heart harden before this growth. Now faced with inevitable doom, I can see how an impressionable youth can run a little askew, but in what kind of world are we living where a boy can torture a dog for the sake of fun?
“I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees.” It’s a silly little book with an amazing message, of which is severely and devastatingly overlooked. Those two little sentences always stayed with me since the first time I read them. I try to live by those lines. Those lines have gotten me into some pretty sticky situations. But living in a world with no Lorax? That’s not a world that I want to live in. Bring on the zombies. I wish there were more Loraxes in the world. I know quite a few, but we can always use help. So I am asking, begging you, I am daring you if that will help. Be the Lorax. Speak. Speak for those with no words, no hope, or no way out. It’s hard, and sometimes it’s sad. Sometimes there aren’t many who want to listen, but we make them listen. We have the power of words, of compassion, but most importantly, we have the inherent good that hasn’t been completely wiped out yet.
“I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees.” And the animals, and the children, and the weak, and the different, and anybody or everything that cannot speak for itself.
“We will never have a perfect world, but it’s not romantic or naive to work toward a better one.” -Steven Pinker