Dear Politicians: Stop Treating Us Like Sheep. And Dear Voters, Stop Acting Like Them.

The campaign texts never stop and they make me sick! The attack ads never end and it's maddening! The promises flow like cheap beer in an Applachian nightclub. Then Election Day passes, and suddenly, our elected officials go ghost.

Let me ask you a question.

When was the last time you received a text message from your elected representative asking how they were performing?

Not asking for your vote. Not asking for a campaign donation. Not reminding you that the other party is "destroying America". 

I'm talking about a genuine, honest-to-goodness message asking, "Hey, are you happy with the job we're doing? What can we do better?"

Can't remember? Neither can I.

But let an election get close, and suddenly, your phone won't stop vibrating.

Text messages. Emails. Political ads. Mailers. Phone calls. Social media posts. Campaign volunteers knocking on your door like they're delivering a warrant. Well, then again, I don't get door knocks any more. That's so 90's.

Everybody cares about your future. At least, that's what they want you to believe. Then the election ends, and poof! They're gone.

Four years later, they'll be back, smiling for the cameras and acting like the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten.

And we're supposed to pretend this is normal?

The Great American Political Ghosting

Think about it.

During campaign season, politicians will contact you so often that you'll start wondering whether you're dating them.

"Can we count on your vote?"

"Can you donate $25?"

"Did you see what the other side said?"

Then the election is over.

Silence.

No texts asking whether their promises are being fulfilled. No surveys asking whether your neighborhood is improving. No emails asking what issues matter most to you now that they actually have the power to do something about them.

Just three or four years of political radio silence, followed by another avalanche of messages when they need something from you again.

That's not representation. That's customer service for a business that only answers the phone when they need bills paid.

And here's the real kicker: We keep rewarding them for it.

Why Do We Keep Falling for Democrats vs. Republicans?

This is where I have a problem with us, the voters. Well, not "us". Some of you. I don't participate in this political party nonsense.

Somewhere along the way, we've allowed politics to become a sporting event.

You're Team Red or you're Team Blue. You cheer for your side, boo the other side, and defend your team's players even when they fumble the ball, run the wrong direction, and accidentally tackle their own quarterback.

Sound familiar?

It should.

We've become so obsessed with political parties that we've forgotten what elections are supposed to accomplish. And I've complained about this plenty of times on my blog going back a decade.

An election is supposed to help us choose the best person for the job. It isn't supposed to be a loyalty test for a political party.

Yet every election cycle, we hear the same tired arguments.

"You have to vote Democrat!"

"You have to vote Republican!"

"If you vote for Independent, you're helping the other side!"

Really? Is that the best argument we've got?

What happened to evaluating a candidate's qualifications, experience, integrity, judgment, leadership, and actual plans for addressing the problems we face?

What happened to looking at someone's record instead of their party affiliation? 

Oh, wait. That requires reading. Scratch that.

And why are we so willing to excuse bad behavior from our preferred candidate while treating the exact same behavior from the opposing candidate as proof that the entire country is doomed?

If your candidate does something wrong, it's apparently a misunderstanding.

If the other candidate does it, it's a national scandal.

We can't keep pretending that this makes us informed voters.

It makes us predictable voters. And predictable voters are incredibly convenient for politicians.

They don't have to earn your support if they know you'll give it to them anyway.

Attack Ads: Is This Really the Best We Can Do?

Let's talk about campaign advertising.

I understand that candidates need to explain why they're the better choice. I understand that criticizing an opponent's policies, voting record, qualifications, and public conduct is part of political competition.

That's fair game.

If a candidate has a terrible record, expose it. If they've broken promises, show us. If their policies would hurt the people they're supposed to represent, explain why.

Bring the receipts.

But somewhere along the way, political campaigns decided that attacking a person's character, humiliating their family, and dragging personal trauma into an election were acceptable substitutes for discussing the issues.

Take the controversy surrounding Ohio candidate "Ramy" and the campaign ad involving his opponent's reportedly abusive and estranged mother.

Whatever one's political position, that raises a basic question: At what point did we decide that somebody else's family trauma was fair game for political entertainment?

A candidate's public record is one thing. A relative's private pain is another.

If the mother in question was abusive and estranged from her child, what exactly are voters supposed to learn from putting her in an advertisement? How does that tell us whether the candidate can manage a budget, represent constituents, solve problems, or lead effectively?

Explain the policy. Challenge the record. Debate the issues.

But exploiting a family relationship involving alleged abuse and estrangement to score political points? That's the sort of thing that should make voters question the campaign's judgment, not simply applaud because the target belongs to the other party.

And here's the part that really gets me: These ads work because we let them work.

We share them. We laugh at them. We get angry about them. We circulate the most outrageous clips until everybody has seen them.

Then we act surprised when political discourse becomes a dumpster fire.

You cannot complain about the quality of political campaigns while rewarding the very tactics that make them worse.

We have to stop confusing cruelty with strength and outrage with substance.

Candidates Who Won't Debate: What's There to Be Afraid Of?

Now let's talk about another campaign-season tradition: candidates who somehow find a million reasons not to debate their opponents. 

Granted the candidates never answer the questions that are being asked anyway, but it does help to put the issues out there to see their responses (or non-responses).

They'll do interviews with friendly hosts. They'll appear at carefully controlled events. They'll deliver rehearsed speeches to cheering crowds. 

But put them on a debate stage with a serious opponent who might challenge their claims, and suddenly their calendar is packed.

Let's be clear: Candidates have legitimate reasons to decline certain events. Not every debate is fair, every moderator is impartial, or every invitation deserves acceptance.

But when a candidate repeatedly avoids meaningful opportunities to answer questions and defend their positions, voters should take notice.

If you want the authority to make decisions for millions of people, you should be willing to explain those decisions in front of the people who have to live with them.

We shouldn't have to elect someone based on carefully edited commercials and a handful of talking points.

We should be able to hear them answer tough questions.

We should be able to compare their answers side by side.

We should be able to see how they respond when someone challenges them.

And if they refuse to participate, that refusal should become part of our evaluation.

The presidency, a Senate seat, a governor's office, or a seat in Congress is not a participation trophy. If you're asking for the job, show us why you're qualified.

Midterm Elections Aren't a Super Bowl for Political Parties

Here's another thing that drives me crazy: the way we turn midterm elections into a referendum on Democrats versus Republicans instead of an evaluation of the people actually running for office.

Midterm elections matter. They determine who writes laws, controls legislative chambers, oversees government agencies, and holds elected officials accountable.

But somewhere along the way, we've turned them into a national tug-of-war between two political brands.

The message becomes less about what a candidate will do for your community and more about which party needs to win to stop the other party from winning.

And the candidates know exactly how to play that game.

Instead of asking, "What are your plans for our schools, roads, economy, public safety, health care, and local communities?" we're encouraged to ask, "Which party will make the other party miserable?"

Congratulations. We have turned self-government into professional wrestling, complete with villains, heroes, manufactured outrage, and fans who refuse to acknowledge when their favorite wrestler cheats.

Except professional wrestling is entertainment. Elections have consequences.

Your grocery bill doesn't care whether your representative has a D or an R after their name.

Your neighborhood doesn't care. Your children's future doesn't care. The pothole that you've been dodging in the road since the last administration certainly doesn't care.

Here's a Little Experiment for Election Day

I want you to try something.

When you look at your ballot this November, imagine that every political party label has disappeared.

No D. No R.

Just the candidates' names, their qualifications, their records, their positions on the issues, and their plans for the future.

Now choose.

Who would you vote for?

Who has the best judgment? Who has demonstrated integrity? Who understands the responsibilities of the office? Who has a record of getting things done? Who is most likely to listen to constituents, even the ones who disagree with them?

Would you choose the same person?

Maybe you would. There are plenty of thoughtful voters who carefully evaluate candidates and still arrive at a strong party preference.

But I suspect a lot of people would suddenly find the decision much harder.

And that is the problem.

If removing a single letter from a ballot completely changes your decision, you might not be evaluating the candidate as carefully as you think you are.

You might be voting out of habit.

You might be voting out of fear.

You might be voting because your parents always voted that way, your friends vote that way, or your favorite television personality told you that the other side is evil.

Whatever the reason, ask yourself whether that's good enough.

Because when we vote for someone simply because they belong to our preferred party, we're giving them permission to do less to earn our support.

They don't need to persuade us. They don't need to impress us. They don't even need to be particularly good at their jobs.

They just need to make sure we remain afraid of the alternative.

That's a pretty sweet arrangement for politicians.

It's a terrible arrangement for voters.

We Need to Stop Letting Politicians Off the Hook

The responsibility doesn't end when we cast our ballots.

In fact, that's when our responsibility really begins.

We should be paying attention to what our elected officials do after they take office.

Did they keep their promises?

Did they explain why they couldn't keep them?

Did they respond to questions and concerns?

Did they make decisions based on evidence and the needs of the people, or did they simply follow the party line?

And when they fail, do we hold them accountable?

Or do we immediately start making excuses because the alternative is supposedly worse?

We need to demand more than a campaign website and an occasional press release.

We need accessible representatives, public accountability, meaningful constituent feedback, and regular opportunities to hear directly from the people we elect.

Imagine if every elected official routinely sent constituents a short, nonpartisan performance survey.

What are we doing well? What are we doing poorly? Which local problems need immediate attention? What should our priorities be over the next six months?

Imagine if they published clear reports explaining their votes, their accomplishments, their missed goals, and their plans for addressing the problems that remain.

Imagine if politicians treated communicating with voters as a responsibility of the job rather than a temporary inconvenience between campaign seasons.

What a revolutionary concept: elected officials actually communicating with the people who pay their salaries.

And no, a politician shouldn't be expected to agree with every constituent or change positions every time a poll shifts. Leadership requires making difficult decisions, and sometimes the right decision isn't the popular one.

But leaders should be able to explain themselves, listen to criticism, and demonstrate that the public's concerns matter.

We don't need politicians who tell us what we want to hear every day.

We need politicians who remember who they work for.

Stop Blaming the Other Side for Everything

Here's the uncomfortable truth: We cannot fix a broken political culture while insisting that only the other side is responsible for it.

If you're a Democrat, hold Democrats accountable.

If you're a Republican, hold Republicans accountable.

If you're an independent, hold everyone accountable.

If your preferred candidate runs a campaign built on personal attacks instead of substantive arguments, don't give them a free pass.

If your preferred candidate breaks promises, don't suddenly develop amnesia.

And if the opposing candidate actually has better qualifications, better judgment, or a better plan for the job, have the courage to acknowledge it.

You don't have to agree with everything someone believes to recognize that they might be the better person for a particular position.

That's what independent thinking looks like.

It doesn't mean abandoning your principles. It means refusing to surrender your judgment to a political party.

We should be able to disagree without treating each other like enemies.

That's not weakness. That's maturity.

Yes, You Should Vote. But Please, Vote for the Best Candidate.

Let me be absolutely clear about one thing.

I urge everyone who is eligible to get out and vote.

Every election matters. Midterms matter. Local elections matter. School board elections matter. The people we elect have real power over our everyday lives.

Don't sit on the sidelines and complain about the results if you refuse to participate in choosing them.

But I also plead with you to do something more important than simply showing up.

Think.

Research the candidates. Read their positions. Look at their records. Listen to their interviews. Watch their debates when they participate. Pay attention to how they treat people, how they handle criticism, and whether their promises make any sense.

Don't let a campaign ad make your decision for you.

Don't let a text message frighten you into voting a certain way.

And don't assume the other candidate is unqualified because the other party endorsed them.

Make the candidate earn your vote.

Then, after the election, keep paying attention.

Remember that the person you elected still works for you after the campaign signs come down. You are still a constituent. You still have concerns. You still have a right to ask questions and expect answers.

And when the next election rolls around, don't judge the incumbent by how many times they texted you during the campaign.

Judge them by what they actually accomplished while they had the job.

The Sheep Are Not the Only Ones to Blame

It's easy to blame politicians. They give us plenty of reasons to do it.

But politicians didn't invent our willingness to ignore facts that inconvenience us. They didn't force us to share every inflammatory advertisement. They didn't make us automatically defend every action taken by our preferred party.

We participate in this system, too.

Every time we vote for a candidate without examining their record, we contribute to the problem.

Every time we excuse dishonesty because it comes from our side, we contribute to the problem.

Every time we reward personal attacks, manufactured outrage, and candidates who refuse to answer legitimate questions, we contribute to the problem.

And every time we allow party loyalty to become more important than competence, integrity, and accountability, we make it easier for politicians to keep treating us the way they do.

So yes, I'm frustrated with the politicians who flood our phones with messages when they need our votes and disappear when we need their attention.

I'm frustrated with the attack ads, the empty promises, the political theater, and the candidates who seem more concerned with winning than with serving.

But I'm equally frustrated with a voting public that keeps rewarding the behavior it claims to hate.

We cannot demand better government while refusing to demand better candidates.

And we cannot complain about being ignored when we repeatedly hand power to people who have little incentive to listen to us once the election is over.

Final Thoughts: Your Vote Is Not a Team Jersey

This November, vote.

Vote for the candidate you believe is best qualified to do the job. Vote for the person whose record, judgment, character, and policies give you the strongest reason to trust them.

If that's a Democrat, vote Democrat.

If that's a Republican, vote Republican.

If that's an independent or another candidate, give that person serious consideration, too.

But don't vote for someone simply because they've convinced you that the other side is worse.

Fear is not a qualification. Party loyalty is not a resume. And a clever attack ad is not a governing plan.

Remember, these people are asking to work for us.

They are not royalty. They are not celebrities auditioning for another season of a reality show. And they are certainly not entitled to our votes simply because they have an R or a D next to their names.

They are public servants.

Or at least, that's what they're supposed to be.

Because here's the bottom line: Politicians will keep doing what politicians do as long as we let them.

We can't control every campaign tactic. We can't guarantee that every candidate will act honorably. And we can't make every elected official a good leader.

But we can control how we vote. We can demand accountability. We can refuse to be manipulated by party loyalty.

And we can stop rewarding candidates who treat elections like a game and voters like disposable campaign props.

The power is supposed to belong to the people.

Maybe it's time we started acting like it.

Vote. Think for yourself. Demand better. And for the love of common sense, stop voting for the jersey they're wearing and start voting for the player.

Are We Really Going to Pretend Dating Apps Made Dating Better?

Let me ask a simple question: Did dating apps actually make dating better?

Because I'm starting to think we may have confused making dating easier with making people better at dating.

Those are two completely different things.

Dating apps made it easier to find somebody. Social media made it easier to get somebody's attention. DMs made it easier to make the first move without actually having to make the first move.

But somewhere along the way, we forgot to teach people what to do after somebody says yes.

And apparently, a lot of young men never got the memo.

Back When Asking Somebody Out Took Courage

Think back 20+ years ago. Middle school dances.

The gym would be decorated with whatever the school could afford. Some DJ was playing music that sounded much better than it actually was. Somebody's mother was standing along the wall watching everybody like she was running surveillance for the FBI.

And then there were the boys on one side of the gym.

And the girls? On the other side.

A boy could stand there with his friends, pretending he was perfectly comfortable while secretly trying to figure out which girl he was going to ask to dance.

And then came the moment... He had to walk across that entire gym floor.

Not send a text.

Not send a DM.

Not like three of her pictures first.

Not watch her Instagram story for six months hoping she would somehow understand that he was interested.

He had to walk over there and open his mouth.

"Would you like to dance?"

That's it. Five words.

But those five words could feel like you were preparing to address Congress.

And if she said "no"? You had to walk all the way back in front of everyone.

And your boys were waiting. "Man, what happened?"

"She curved you?"

There was no deleting the conversation. No unmatching. No pretending you never asked.

You took the "L" and walked back to your friends.

That was part of growing up. You learned how to approach people. You learned how to handle rejection. You learned that rejection wasn't the end of the world. Most importantly, you learned how to talk to women.

Fast Forward to Today

Now? We've somehow come full circle. Guys still don't necessarily want to approach women. They've just found a way to do it without having to physically approach them.

The DM.

And listen, I'm not going to sit here and pretend DMs are automatically bad. They're not. I asked my wife out through a DM.

I didn't know her personally. We had mutual friends, and we had interacted a little through comments on their posts. So eventually I reached out.

The difference was what happened after she said yes.

When we finally sat across from each other, I knew how to have a conversation. 

• I knew what questions to ask to get to know her.
• I knew how to tell her about myself.
• I knew how to make her comfortable.
• I wasn't sitting there staring at my phone trying to figure out what to say next.

And that's where I think we've got a problem.

The Problem Isn't the Dating App

The dating app isn't necessarily the problem.

The problem is what happens when you remove all of the situations that forced people to develop interpersonal skills. If you grow up communicating primarily through a screen, you can become too comfortable communicating through it. That's not the same thing as communicating with a person.

A dating profile gives you information.

A DM gives you an opening.

A dating app gives you a match.

But eventually, the woman is going to be sitting across the table from you and the algorithm isn't coming with you.

That's when the real interview begins.

And apparently, some guys show up completely unprepared.

"So... What Do You Do?"

I've heard enough stories about modern dating to know that some men have apparently reduced conversation to a series of questions that sound like they're filling out an application.

"What do you do?"

"Where do you live?"

"How many kids do you have?"

"What do you like to do?"

Then silence. 

BRO!

• You matched with her.
• You pursued her.
• You asked her out.
• You got her to agree to meet you.

Now what?

This is where communication matters. Getting the date isn't the accomplishment. Having a good date is!

You can't spend weeks trying to get a woman's attention and then finally get her in front of you and suddenly become a mute.

That's like a dog chasing a car for three miles and then, after finally catching it, standing there wondering what you're supposed to do with it. You wanted the car! Now drive, Fido!

Dating Apps Have Created a Strange New Problem

Here's the irony: Men have more access to women than ever and yet some men seem less prepared to actually connect with them.

"Hey."

She responds.

Then...

Nothing.

Or worse, the conversation becomes an endless exchange of one-word answers.

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

"What you doing?"

"Chilling."

"Where you from?"

"Memphis."

"Oh."

Really, dude? That's the conversation? We went through all of this technological advancement just to arrive at "Oh."

The Old-School Way Had Its Problems Too

Now, before somebody gets mad and thinks I'm saying everything was better back in the day, calm down. It wasn't. Dating 20+ years ago wasn't some magical romantic paradise.

• People got rejected.
• People got embarrassed.
• People got cheated on.
• People got their hearts broken.
• People also stayed in terrible relationships because they didn't have the options people have today.

And let's not pretend every teenage boy in 1985 was Casanova. Lord knows that I was far from it.

Some of those dudes walked across that gym floor, asked a girl to dance and immediately forgot how English worked.

The difference is that they had to practice.

You couldn't outsource the uncomfortable part. You had to walk over there, speak, and read body language.

You had to figure out whether she was interested. You had to deal with rejection. Then you had to try again.

Those experiences taught you things.

Rejection Used to Be Part of the Training

And maybe that's one of the biggest things we've lost. The ability to be rejected without falling apart has really been lost on younger generation of guys and I blame the parents. Especially the fathers.

If a girl turned you down at the school dance, you survived. You went back to your friends. They roasted you. You laughed it off. And eventually, you asked somebody else.

That experience taught young men something important: The word "no" isn't the end of the world.

It's just "no".

Today, somebody can spend months interacting with women without ever having to experience that same level of vulnerability.

A swipe left doesn't feel the same as standing three feet away from somebody and hearing them say, "No, thank you."

One is an algorithm. The other is person. And people are where the learning happens.

You Don't Need Game. You Need Conversation.

I think we've overcomplicated dating. Men don't necessarily need some secret pickup strategy. They don't need 37 lines they memorized from TikTok. They don't need to pretend they're richer, cooler or more mysterious than they really are.

They need to learn how to have a conversation. Ask questions that actually invite a response.

Listen to the answer. Build on what she says.

Tell her something about yourself.

Make her laugh (that's how I got 'em back then). 😉

Talk about something you're passionate about. Let her see your personality.

And for God's sake, stop treating every conversation like you're trying to get to the next checkpoint in a video game. You're not trying to unlock the "girlfriend" level. You're trying to determine whether two people actually enjoy being around each other. That's the whole point.

So, Are Dating Apps Making Dating Better?

Maybe. For some people, absolutely.

They've helped people meet partners they never would have encountered otherwise. They've made dating more accessible to people with limited social circles and busy lifestyles.

But let's stop pretending that a match equals a connection.

It doesn't.

A match means two people swiped in the same direction.

That's it.

The rest still requires two people who know how to communicate.

And that's the part nobody can automate.

You can have the perfect profile. The perfect pictures. The perfect opening line. The perfect algorithm. But eventually, you're going to have to sit across from that woman. 

And she's going to look at you. You're going to look at her. And somebody is going to have to say something.

That's dating.

Maybe the real problem isn't that dating apps ruined dating. Maybe they simply exposed how many people never learned how to do the uncomfortable part in the first place. 

Because getting the woman's attention was never the finish line for me. It was just the beginning.

And if you don't know what to say once you finally get there...

Well, congratulations. Just like the dog, you caught the car. Now what?

Are We Really Going to Pretend College Is Still Worth It for Everyone?

For decades, Americans have been told the same thing:

Go to college. Get a degree. Get a good job. Build a career. Live happily ever after.

It was practically the American version of a fairy tale. Parents told their kids. Teachers told their students. 

Guidance counselors told teenagers who barely knew what they wanted for lunch that they needed to figure out what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives.

But here's the problem: The world has changed.

The cost of college has exploded. The job market has changed. What employers consider valuable has changed. Technology has eliminated or transformed entire categories of work. And plenty of young people are graduating with degrees, student loans and absolutely no idea why an employer wants three years of experience for an entry-level position.

Yet we're still telling everyone that college is the obvious path to success. Is it though?

College Can Be Worth It. That's Not the Question.

Let's get something out of the way first. College isn't useless. A college education can absolutely be worth the money.

If you want to become a doctor, lawyer, engineer, teacher, pharmacist or another professional whose career requires specialized education and credentials, college isn't exactly optional.

Nobody wants their surgeon saying: “I skipped medical school because YouTube had some pretty good tutorials.”

There are also careers where a degree can provide a significant financial advantage.

We've Confused "College" With "Success"

Somewhere along the way, we started treating college as though it were the finish line.

Get accepted. Graduate. Congratulations. You have successfully completed adulthood.

Except that's not how life works.

A degree is a tool. It isn't a guarantee. A person can graduate from college and still struggle to find a job. Someone can have a degree and work in a field completely unrelated to what they studied.

Someone else can graduate with $100,000 or more in student loans and discover that their starting salary isn't exactly screaming, “Financial freedom!”

Meanwhile, somebody who skipped college might be making six figures as a skilled tradesperson, technician, entrepreneur, salesperson or specialized professional.

That doesn't mean everyone should skip college. It means we should stop pretending there is only one legitimate road to success.

Here's the Part Nobody Likes Talking About

College is expensive. And the price isn't just tuition.

There are books, housing, transportation, food, fees, technology, and at least four years.

That last one is important because if you're spending four years in school, you're also spending four years that could have been used working, gaining experience, building a business, learning a trade or developing a specialized skill.

That's not necessarily a bad thing. But it is a cost.

And if we're going to tell young people that college is an investment, then we should be honest enough to ask the most basic investment question: What's the return?

A Degree Doesn't Guarantee a Career

Here's where the conversation gets uncomfortable.

We've created a system where some students are encouraged to choose majors based on passion while simultaneously being told that college is an investment.

Those two ideas don't always get along.

If you spend tens of thousands of dollars earning a degree in a field with limited employment opportunities, you can't simply pretend the debt doesn't exist because you “followed your passion.”

Passion is wonderful.

Bills are less emotionally supportive.

If someone wants to study philosophy, art history, sociology, communications or another field because they genuinely love it, that's their choice.

But they should also understand what they're buying.

College shouldn't be sold like a lottery ticket where every degree supposedly leads to a six-figure career.

It doesn't.

Meanwhile, Skilled Trades Keep Getting Ignored

Here's one of the strangest parts of the conversation. America constantly talks about labor shortages.

We need electricians, plumbers, HVAC technicians, welders, mechanics, and a whole collection of other skilled professionals.

Yet for years, we've treated vocational education as though it were the consolation prize for students who weren't “college material.”

That's backwards.

A teenager who graduates high school and enters an apprenticeship isn't failing at life. They're learning a skill people are willing to pay for.

And in many cases, they're earning money while someone else is borrowing money to sit in a lecture hall.

Think about how bizarre that is.

One person is collecting experience and a paycheck. The other may be collecting student-loan statements.

And we're still calling the first person unsuccessful because they don't have a bachelor's degree.

Make it make sense.

College Isn't the Only Form of Education

This is another mistake we've made. We've somehow allowed the word “education” to become almost synonymous with “college.” Education happens everywhere.

A person can learn through:

• Apprenticeships
• Trade schools
• Certifications
• Community colleges
• Professional training
• Military service
• Internships
• Entrepreneurship
• Online courses
• Mentorship
• On-the-job experience

A bachelor's degree is one form of education. It isn't the definition of education.

And Don't Get Me Started On The Student Loan Problem

The student loan issue has made the old college-for-everybody philosophy even harder to defend.

Borrowing money to invest in your future isn't automatically irresponsible.

The problem comes when young people are encouraged to borrow enormous amounts of money without understanding what they're buying.

A 17-year-old shouldn't have to understand compound interest, labor-market demand, salary projections and return on investment better than the adults advising them. You need a college degree for that (see what I did there?).

But somebody needs to explain it.

Because “You'll figure it out later” is not a financial strategy. It's how people end up discovering that adulthood comes with invoices.

What Should We Be Telling Young People Instead?

Maybe we should stop asking: “Are you going to college?”

And start asking: “What career are you trying to build, and what is the smartest path to get there?”

That's a completely different conversation.

If college is the best route? Go.

If a trade school is the best route? Go.

If an apprenticeship makes more financial sense? Do it.

If community college can accomplish the same thing for a fraction of the cost? Consider it.

Parents Need to Rethink This Too

Most parents aren't pushing college because they're trying to ruin their children's lives. They're trying to protect them. They remember what happened to people who didn't have educational opportunities.

They believe a degree creates options. And sometimes it does.

But parents also need to recognize that the economy their children are entering isn't necessarily the economy they entered.

The advice that worked in 1995 isn't automatically going to work today.

That's one of the hardest things about parenting. You have to prepare your child for a world that may not resemble the one that prepared you.

The Real Question Is ROI

Maybe we need to stop asking whether college is “worth it.”

That's too broad. Instead, ask: Is this particular degree, at this particular price, for this particular career, worth the investment?

That's a much better question.

Because a $20,000 education that leads to a $75,000 career looks very different from a $120,000 education that leads to a $50,000 career.

And that's the part of the conversation that often gets ignored.

College Should Be a Choice, Not a Requirement for Respect

There should be no shame in earning a degree. There should also be no shame in not earning one.

A person's intelligence, work ethic, character, or potential isn't determined by whether they attended college.

There are educated people who make terrible decisions (ex. Congress). There are people without bachelor's degrees who are exceptionally intelligent, successful and financially responsible.

The diploma tells you something about someone's educational path. It doesn't tell you everything about the person.

So, Is College Still Worth It?

Absolutely. For some people. Is college still worth it for everyone? Absolutely not.

And pretending otherwise doesn't help young people. It hurts them.

Maybe the goal shouldn't be creating a society where everybody has a bachelor's degree.

Maybe the goal should be creating a society where people have useful skills, sustainable careers, financial independence and the freedom to choose their path without being judged for it.

Because if the ultimate goal of education is to prepare people for life, then perhaps we should stop measuring success by whether everyone took the same four-year detour to get there. 

I Switched to LED Bulbs, Bought Energy-Efficient Appliances, and My Electric Bill Is STILL Sky-High!

At what point does saving energy starts saving us money?

Can somebody explain something to me?

We replaced every light bulb in the house with LED bulbs. We bought Energy Star appliances. We invested in energy-efficient technology, turned off lights when we left a room, lowered the thermostat, and did everything we were told would help reduce our electric bills.

Meanwhile, we're constantly hearing about massive solar farms, wind farms, and the future of renewable energy. We're told these advancements will make energy cleaner, more efficient, and eventually more affordable.

So, with all these improvements, why does my electric bill still feel like it's climbing?

Seriously, where are my savings?

I'm not against energy efficiency. I'm all for technology that makes our lives easier and reduces waste. If I can use less electricity and pay less money, sign me up.

But somewhere along the way, the promise of saving money seems to have gotten lost in the fine print.

Think about it. We've changed how we light our homes, how we heat and cool them, and even the appliances we use every day. Some people even allow their power companies to control their thermostats (not for me). 

We've embraced the idea that being more energy-conscious is not only good for the environment but also good for our wallets.

Yet, when that monthly bill arrives, it feels like the only thing getting more efficient is how quickly my money disappears. And that's the part that deserves an explanation.

If consumers are doing their part to reduce energy consumption, shouldn't we see some meaningful financial benefit? If technology is improving and energy production is evolving, why does the average household still feel like it's fighting an uphill battle just to keep the lights on?

Now, I understand that electricity prices depend on more than the amount of energy we use. Infrastructure, fuel costs, maintenance, and other factors all play a role. But that doesn't change the frustration of doing everything right and still feeling like you're getting nowhere.

Here's my question: Are these energy-saving advancements actually making life more affordable for everyday people, or are we simply being asked to spend more money to keep up with a system that never seems to get cheaper?

Now the cynical side of me knows that there's no such thing as "saving money" in America. Power companies will save money by you having these energy-efficient items putting less stress on their equipment. But God forbid if the people get relief, right?

This country isn't designed that way. America will put profit over people all day, every day.

The Life I Might Have Lived If I Had Never Attended an HBCU

I sometimes wonder what my life would look like if I had never attended an HBCU.

Not because I think attending an HBCU magically made me who I am. It didn't.

But I do believe it changed the direction I was headed.

And the funny thing is, I almost didn't go.

From kindergarten through high school graduation, I attended predominantly white schools. I grew up in a Black neighborhood, but most of the Black kids in my neighborhood went to the same schools I did. So while I was surrounded by Black people at home, my educational experience was predominantly white and it was the same for the kids in my neighborhood.

That was simply my normal.

When it came time for college, my plan was to attend a predominantly white institution.

It made sense. It was what I knew.

Then reality showed up with a financial aid package. The PWI offered me a partial academic scholarship. An HBCU offered me a full academic scholarship.

Now, I'm many things, but stupid isn't one of them. I went where the money was.

And that decision changed my life.

I Thought I Knew What It Meant To Be Black

I had already started becoming more conscious of my Black identity during my teenage years. My father played a major role in that. So did music.

Public Enemy. Boogie Down Productions. Artists who weren't exactly making songs designed to keep everybody comfortable at the dinner table. They were giving me information, perspectives and questions that weren't necessarily being handed to me in school.

I was beginning to understand that being Black in America wasn't simply about the color of my skin.

There was history behind it that wasn't being taught. There was culture behind it that I didn't always see. There were experiences behind it that I never really had.

There were things my parents understood because they had lived them that I hadn't yet experienced myself. I was beginning the journey.

But the HBCU solidified it.

Same Skin. Different Experiences.

One of the most eye-opening things about attending an HBCU wasn't simply being surrounded by Black people. I had been surrounded by Black people my entire life in my neighborhood. It was realizing that we hadn't all experienced America the same way.

I would meet somebody and we'd start talking about where we grew up, what school was like, how teachers treated them, what their neighborhoods were like, what their parents taught them, and what they thought about race.

And sometimes I'd think: Wow. We are both Black, but we came through two completely different worlds.

I had been educated in predominantly white schools. Some of my HBCU classmates had spent their entire educational careers surrounded primarily by Black teachers and Black students.

Their reference points were different. Their experiences were different. Their understanding of certain racial dynamics was different.

And instead of making me think one group was right and the other was wrong, it made me realize something much more important: Context matters.

I Learned To Pay Attention

Before college, I knew how to interact with people. The diversity of my upbringing gave me that. But the HBCU taught me to pay attention to something else: how people were interacting with me.

I started noticing the difference between being accepted and being tolerated. Those two things can look remarkably similar if you aren't careful.

That didn't mean every uncomfortable interaction was racism. It didn't mean every white person secretly disliked Black people. And it certainly didn't mean every Black person automatically had my best interests at heart.

It meant I became more observant.

The HBCU taught me to look beyond the surface of an interaction and consider the circumstances surrounding it.

• Look at the history.
• Look at the behavior.
• Look at the pattern.
• Look at the context.
• Then make your judgment.

That was discernment.

My HBCU Didn't Teach Me To Hate White People

This is where I think the conversation about HBCUs sometimes gets unnecessarily stupid. There are people who hear "HBCU" and immediately assume that students are being taught some kind of anti-white ideology. 

That wasn't my experience at all. My HBCU didn't teach me to hate white people. It taught me to love Black people.

There's a difference. A pretty important one.

Loving your own people doesn't require hating somebody else's. Understanding Black history doesn't require rewriting everybody else's history.

Being proud of Black accomplishments doesn't require pretending other people haven't accomplished anything.

And learning about racism doesn't mean believing every white person is racist. That's kindergarten-level thinking.

My HBCU gave me something I hadn't fully received before: A concentrated education in Black history, culture and experience.

Not because Black history is the only history that matters. But because it was the history I had the least opportunity to learn about in the educational environments I came through.

What I Didn't Know I Didn't Know

That's probably the biggest gift the HBCU gave me. It showed me how much I didn't know. Not just about Black history. About myself.

Growing up in a predominantly white school system, I became accustomed to an environment that didn't always center my culture or my history. I didn't necessarily recognize what was missing because I didn't know what I was missing.

The HBCU started filling in some of those blanks.

I encountered stories, perspectives and pieces of Black history that weren't part of the education I had received growing up.

And suddenly, some things I had heard from my father while growing up made more sense.

Some of the music I'd been listening to made more sense.

Some of the things I had observed but couldn't quite articulate finally had context.

It was like somebody handed me several missing pages from a book I'd been reading my entire life.

What If I Had Gone To The PWI?

This is the question I keep coming back to :What if I had received that partial scholarship and gone to the PWI?

I probably would have done fine. That's the strange part. 

I already knew that environment. I probably would have graduated, gotten a job, built relationships and continued living my life.

Maybe I would have eventually discovered more about Black history.

Maybe I would have become more conscious of racial dynamics through work, relationships, travel, books, music or simply getting older.

Maybe.

But I don't know.

What I do know is that I wouldn't have had the exact experience that changed me.

I wouldn't have sat across from people whose Black experiences were completely different from mine and had those conversations.

I wouldn't have heard their stories.

I wouldn't have had those moments where I realized that two people could share the same skin color while having completely different understandings of what that skin color meant in America.

And I wouldn't have had the same environment in which to explore my own identity.

That's the part people sometimes miss about education.

Education isn't only about what somebody puts on a chalkboard.

Sometimes it's about who you meet.

Sometimes it's about the conversations you have in a dorm room at 2 AM.

Sometimes it's about realizing that something you thought was universal was actually just your personal experience.

Sometimes the most important lesson isn't: "Here's the answer."

It's: "You need to ask a better question."

The HBCU Expanded My World

My HBCU didn't shrink my world. It expanded it. I went into college with a broad understanding of how to interact with people from different backgrounds. I came out with a much deeper understanding of my own.

That may sound like a small distinction. It wasn't. It gave me another lens.

It taught me that Black history isn't simply a collection of dates, famous names and February school projects.

• It is connected to American history.
• It is connected to economics.
• It's connected to education.
• It's connected to neighborhoods.
• It's connected to music.
• It's connected to politics.
• It's connected to family.
• It's connected to how people see themselves and how other people see them.

And sometimes, understanding those connections changes the way you interpret things happening right in front of you.

That doesn't mean automatically blaming racism for every negative experience.

It means not automatically dismissing it either.

Again: Context.

I Didn't Leave With Hatred. I Left With Perspective.

That's probably the simplest way I can explain what the HBCU did for me.

It didn't teach me to hate. It taught me to understand.

It didn't make me suspicious of everyone who wasn't Black. It made me more conscious of the world around me.

It didn't teach me that Black people are better than white people. It taught me that Black people have a history worth knowing, a culture worth understanding and accomplishments worth celebrating.

Most importantly, it gave me a stronger sense of identity.

I had spent the first 17 years of my life learning in an environment where Blackness wasn't necessarily the center of the educational experience.

My HBCU gave me the opportunity to make it part of the center of mine. That's a lesson I might have eventually learned somewhere else.

But I don't know.

And that's why I sometimes wonder about that other version of my life.

The version where the PWI gave me the full scholarship.

The version where I never stepped onto an HBCU campus.

The version where I never met all those people who came from experiences completely different from mine.

Maybe I would have turned out exactly the same.

I seriously doubt it.

Because sometimes the most important decisions we make aren't the ones we carefully plan.

Sometimes they're the decisions made because one school offered you a partial scholarship and another school offered you a full ride.

Sometimes the universe has a strange sense of humor. And sometimes, apparently, financial aid is destiny.

One thing I know for sure though... I did four years of school without needing a student loan. 

Won't He do it?

Youth Is Wasted on Young People

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

When I was younger, I thought that saying was just something old people said because old people apparently enjoyed reminding everybody that they used to be young too.

Now I'm almost 55 and I get it. I really, really get it.

Because there is something about getting older that changes the way you look at your younger years. You start realizing that the things you thought were unlimited actually had expiration dates.

Energy, time, physical ability, and, perhaps most importantly, opportunity. When you're young, you don't realize how valuable that is because you have so much of it.

You Think Your Body Will Always Work Like That

One of the biggest things you don't appreciate when you're young is your physical body. When you're 20, you can stay up all night and go to work the next morning. You can eat a super-sized combo at 2 AM and somehow wake up fine. You can play basketball, football, or run around with your friends and your biggest concern is if you can get in enough games before the sun goes down.

Then you get older and suddenly your body starts sending you customer-service emails.

You sleep wrong and your neck hurts. You sit too long and your back hurts. You bend over to pick something up and have to negotiate with your knees before standing back up. You can injure yourself simply by existing.

Nobody really tells young people that your body is an asset. At least they didn't when I was growing up. And you don't appreciate an asset until it starts depreciating.

That's why taking care of yourself when you're young matters. Exercise. Eat better. Get enough sleep (can't stress that enough).

Don't treat your body like it's a rental car.

Then There's Money

The financial part might be even more important. When you're young, retirement sounds like something that happens to people who are 138 years old. You get your first real paycheck and your brain immediately starts calculating what you can buy.

New car. New clothes. New gadgets. Trips. Restaurants. Entertainment. Whatever makes life more enjoyable right now.

And there's nothing wrong with enjoying your money.

The problem is failing to understand that your money could be working while you're living your life. That's the part I wish more young people understood. That's the part that I wish that I understood sooner than 30 years old. 

If you're 25, you don't necessarily need to make a fortune. You just need to understand time.

Because $10,000 invested at 25 and left alone for decades has an entirely different opportunity to grow than $10,000 invested at 50.

That's the magic of compound growth. You aren't just making money on your original money. Eventually, you're making money on the money your money already made. 

Young People Think They Have Time

That's a whole trap.

• I'll do it later.
• I'll start saving later.
• I'll invest later.
• I'll exercise later.
• I'll travel later.
• I'll spend more time with my family later.
• I'll start that business later.
• I'll pursue that dream later.

"Later" is one of the most expensive words in the English language. Because eventually, later becomes now.

And then you look around and realize that 20 years disappeared. Not 20 days. Not 20 months. Twenty years.

Where did they go? That's the part nobody can adequately explain when you're young. You think you're moving through life one day at a time when you're actually moving through it one year at a time.

And those years don't ask permission before leaving.

The Advantage Young People Have Isn't Money

This is what I want people in their 20s to know: Your biggest advantage isn't your salary. It's time.

You may not have much money yet. That's understandable because you're starting out. But you have something incredibly valuable that somebody approaching 55 can't buy. You have decades!

• You can make mistakes and recover.
• You can change careers.
• You can start investing.
• You can start exercising.
• You can learn another skill.
• You can start a business.
• You can travel.
• You can build relationships.
• You can fail.

And then try again.

Older people don't necessarily have more wisdom because we're just smarter. Sometimes we have wisdom because we've had more opportunities to screw things up and learn from them.

Youth Is Wasted Because Young People Don't Know What They Have.

That's really what the saying means. Young people aren't stupid. They simply don't have the perspective that comes with time.

When you're 20, 55 seems ancient.

When you're 55, 20 doesn't seem that long ago.

That's the strange trick life plays on you.

You spend the first half of your life trying desperately to become an adult. Then you spend the second half wondering where your youth went.

Nobody wins.

Well, Father Time does. He's undefeated.

If I Could Give My Younger Self One Piece of Advice

I wouldn't tell my younger self to stop having fun. I'd actually tell him to have more fun.

But I'd tell him to understand the value of the future while enjoying the present.

Put money away. Invest. Take care of your body. Don't waste years trying to impress people who won't matter 20 years later. Spend time with people you love. Learn something. Take some risks. 

Don't assume you have forever. Because you don't. None of us do.

And that's not meant to be depressing. It's meant to be liberating.

The Real Problem Isn't Being Young

The real problem is being young and believing you'll always be young. That's the mistake.

At 25, you think 55 is far away.

At 35, you think you've still got plenty of time.

At 45, you suddenly start doing math you probably should have started doing 20 years earlier.

Then one day you're standing there thinking: “How did I get here so fast?”

That's when the saying finally makes sense.

Youth really is wasted on the young.

Not because young people don't deserve it. It's because young people haven't lived long enough to understand just how valuable youth actually is.

Gen Alpha Doesn't Hate Reading. We Stopped Teaching Them to Love It.

There was a time when telling a child to go read a book wasn't considered punishment.

It wasn't unusual for a kid to have a favorite book. Maybe a favorite author. Even a library card. 

You could give a child a book and expect them to disappear into it for an afternoon. 

Now?

Give some kids a book and you might as well hand them a rotary phone.

We love to blame Gen Alpha for having short attention spans, being glued to screens, lacking curiosity, or struggling to concentrate.

But here's the uncomfortable part:

Children didn't create the environment they're growing up in. Adults did.

Gen Alpha is being raised in a world where reading has gradually been pushed out of the home, replaced by phones, tablets, YouTube, video games, streaming services and an endless supply of content designed to require as little patience as possible.

Then we send those same children to school and wonder why they don't enjoy reading.

Seriously?

What did we think was going to happen?

Reading Starts at Home

Schools can teach children how to read. But schools can't be expected to single-handedly teach children to love reading. That starts at home. Children learn what matters by watching what the adults around them value.

If Mom and Dad spend their evenings scrolling through Facebook, TikTok and Instagram, while the television runs in the background, what exactly is the child supposed to conclude about books?

If nobody in the house reads, why would a child assume reading is important?

We tell children, "You need to read more."

But children are watching us. And children are excellent at noticing hypocrisy.

A parent who tells a child to put down the phone while spending four hours on their own phone is not teaching discipline. They're teaching that discipline is something adults demand from children but don't necessarily practice themselves.

We Used to Make Reading a Thing

Reading used to be built into childhood.

You went to the library.

You had book reports.

Books were birthday/Christmas presents.

And somewhere along the way, we confused reading proficiency with reading enjoyment.

A child can know how to pronounce every word on a page and still have absolutely no relationship with books. That's a problem. Because reading isn't just about vocabulary. Reading teaches you how to think. 

A Child Who Doesn't Read Has Fewer Places to Go

Books force children to do something modern technology rarely asks them to do. A book doesn't constantly interrupt itself. There isn't another book waiting every 30 seconds like a TikTok video. There isn't an algorithm screaming, "Here's something else!"

A book makes you stay in one spot to imagine, visualize, question, connect one idea to another, and sometimes, it makes you uncomfortable.

That's part of the point.

When children read stories, they encounter people who don't look like them, think like them, live like them or believe what they believe.

They learn empathy without somebody standing in front of them giving a lecture on empathy.

They learn cause and effect, consequences, that people can be complicated, that there can be more than one perspective (super-important).

And eventually, they begin developing something incredibly important: their own thoughts.

That's the Part We Should Be Worried About

A child who doesn't learn how to think independently becomes dependent on everyone else to tell them what to think. And we're already living in a world where that's becoming increasingly dangerous.

Algorithms decide what people see.

Social media decides what's popular.

Influencers decide what's fashionable.

Comment sections decide who's right.

Political parties decide who's angry.

And artificial intelligence can now produce an answer before a person has even finished forming the question.

Convenience is wonderful but convenience can also make people intellectually lazy.

If a child never develops the habit comparing sources or how to sit quietly with a complicated idea, how are they supposed to navigate adulthood?

"But My Child Doesn't Like Reading."

Maybe they don't. But that doesn't mean they can't. Children don't automatically hate reading.

Sometimes they hate reading what the parent or teacher wants them to read. There's a difference.

Find the right genre and stop worrying so much about whether they're reading the "right" book and start worrying about whether they're reading anything at all.

Parents Have to Stop Outsourcing Everything to Schools

This is where adults need to take some responsibility (translation: I'm about to step on some toes).

Teachers matter. But parents matter too.

We can't hand a child an iPad at age three, give them unlimited access to YouTube at five, let algorithms raise their interests at eight, and then blame the school at twelve because they don't want to read a novel.

That's not how this works.

Education doesn't begin when the school bell rings. Education begins at home.

And No, This Isn't an Attack on Technology

Technology isn't the enemy. A child can love video games and love books. I'm an example of that myself. A child can watch YouTube and read. A child can use AI and still learn how to think.

The problem is balance.

Technology gives children an unprecedented amount of information. Reading teaches them what to do with information.

Those aren't the same thing.

A child can consume 500 pieces of content in a day and still not understand a single complicated idea or tell you what half of it even was. More information doesn't automatically create more intelligence. Sometimes it just creates more noise.

We Need to Bring Back the Boredom

Here's another uncomfortable truth: Children need time when nothing is happening.

No phone. No television. No video game. Nothing.

Because boredom gives the brain somewhere to go. That's when imagination shows up. That's when curiosity shows up. That's when a child might pick up a book because there's nothing else competing for their attention.

We have become so terrified of our children being bored that we've eliminated one of the conditions that helps children become curious. Every quiet moment gets filled.

And then we wonder why they can't concentrate.

Reading Is Bigger Than Reading

Let me wrap this up because I'm beating a dead horse. And a bunch of you probably stopped reading 30 seconds ago because this post is longer than a TikTok video. 

This isn't really about books. It's about raising people who can think. People who can sit with an idea without immediately needing somebody else to validate it. People who can understand another person's perspective. People who can change their minds when presented with better information.

That's what reading can help develop.

And those skills aren't optional anymore. They're survival skills.

Because Gen Alpha is growing up in an information environment unlike anything previous generations experienced.

They will have access to more information than any generation in history.

Eventually, childhood ends. Parents can't follow their children everywhere. Teachers can't follow them into adulthood. And nobody can protect them from every bad idea they're going to encounter.

Eventually, they're going to have to make decisions for themselves.

And when that day comes, we better hope we raised children who know how to think.

Not just children who know how to scroll.

Because the world doesn't need another generation that can consume information at lightning speed.

It needs a generation capable of stopping long enough to ask whether the information they're consuming is actually true.

That starts with curiosity. It grows through reading. And it becomes wisdom when a child learns to think for themselves.

So maybe the question isn't: "Why don't kids read anymore?"

Maybe the question is: "What have we done to make reading less important to them?"

Is Originality Dead, or Did the Algorithm Just Make Us All the Same?

There was a time when you could tell where somebody was from just by listening to them talk.

Not because they announced their hometown. You could hear it.

People from different regions had different accents, different slang, different expressions, and different ways of saying the same thing. Somebody from New York didn't necessarily sound like somebody from Memphis. Somebody from Chicago didn't necessarily sound like somebody from Atlanta. The way people spoke was shaped by where they lived, who raised them, who they grew up around, and the culture that surrounded them.

Then came social media.

And apparently, the entire country decided we needed to sound like the same 14 people on TikTok.

Now somebody can live in Mississippi, spend six hours scrolling through Instagram, and wake up the next morning talking like an influencer from Los Angeles.

"Girl, I literally cannot."

You could literally. You just did.

And it's not just the way we talk.

• It's the way we dress.
• The way we pose.
• The way we decorate our houses.
• The restaurants we photograph.
• The vacations we take.
• The phrases we use.
• The coffee orders.

Even the way we announce that we're having a good time has become strangely standardized.

Social media has created something we've never really had before: billions of people being exposed to the exact same cultural references at almost exactly the same time.

And we're surprised that we're starting to look alike.

Think about the vacation pictures.

How many times have you seen the same photo of a woman reclined on a transparent surfboard in crystal-clear waters as a drone captures the photo from above?

She's usually wearing the same general type of swimsuit, striking the same general pose, in the same general kind of tropical location.

And somewhere in the caption is something about "living my best life."

I'm not saying she shouldn't do it.

If chilling on a clear surfboard in the middle of the ocean makes you happy, please relax on that thing until the battery in the drone dies.

The question isn't whether people should enjoy popular things.

The question is: How many identical pictures do we need before we start asking ourselves whether we're actually creating memories or simply reproducing someone else's?

Because there's a difference between inspiration and imitation. We see something we like, so we try it.

That's normal.

Society have always borrowed from one another. Fashion, music, language, art, food, hairstyles and traditions have always traveled from one community to another.

But social media has industrialized imitation. The algorithm doesn't necessarily reward originality. It rewards familiarity.

If a particular video works, people make another version. If that version works, thousands make their version.

Then everybody is doing the same dance, using the same sound, making the same facial expression and pointing at the same words appearing on the screen.

Eventually, something that was once creative becomes a template. And the template becomes a trend. And the trend becomes something everybody does. Then we move on to the next thing.

We're living in an era where people have more opportunities to express themselves than any generation in history, yet somehow we're increasingly expressing ourselves in remarkably similar ways.

That's the irony.

We have more individuality available to us while simultaneously becoming more culturally synchronized.

And maybe that's because we're no longer just consuming culture. We're constantly being shown what we're supposed to consume.

Before social media, you might have known what was popular among the people around you. Now you can see what's popular among millions of strangers before you've even brushed your teeth.

And when you see something enough times, it starts feeling normal.

Then desirable.

Then necessary.

That's how influence works.

You don't necessarily have to be told what to think. Sometimes you just have to be given the same thing repeatedly until you stop questioning why you want it. Why do you think some songs become "hits" although most people you know can't stand it? 

This doesn't mean originality is dead. I don't think it is. But I do think originality has gotten harder.

Not because people have become less creative, but because we're surrounded by so much other people's creativity that it's difficult to hear our own ideas.

Before social media, you had to come up with something on your own. Now you can simply open your phone and find 10,000 people who already came up with something. And there's nothing wrong with borrowing an idea. The problem starts when you stop asking yourself whether you actually like the idea.

Are you wearing that because you like it? Or because everybody you follow is wearing it?

Are you taking that vacation picture because it's beautiful? Or because you've seen it 47 times and decided that's what a vacation is supposed to look like?

Are you doing something because you want to? Or because you've been trained by an algorithm to want it?

That's the part worth thinking about.

Because maybe the real threat isn't that social media is making everybody the same. Maybe it's that we're becoming so accustomed to being influenced that we've forgotten how to make decisions without influence.

There used to be a lot more room for people to simply be themselves. Somebody could be strange without immediately discovering that 2.7 million other people were also being strange in exactly the same way.

And maybe that's what we're missing. Individuality.

The freedom to do something because you like it. To wear something nobody on your timeline is wearing. To take a vacation picture that doesn't look like everybody else's vacation picture. To say something in your own voice. To have an opinion that didn't arrive prepackaged by a podcast, influencer, celebrity or algorithm.

Because being yourself has never required being completely different from everybody else.

It simply requires knowing the difference between "I like this" and "I'm supposed to like this."

That's a pretty important distinction.

Especially when everybody has the same phone in their hand telling them what to like next.

Maybe originality isn't dead.

Maybe it's just buried underneath everybody else's influence.

And perhaps the most original thing you can do these days...

is stop scrolling long enough to figure out what you actually think.

Connected to Everyone, Known by No One

We built a world where you can order groceries, earn a paycheck, and talk to a squad of gamers in three time zones without ever looking another human in the eye. We called it progress. So why does everyone feel so isolated?

We are plugged into every person on the planet, yet sitting in a room by ourselves, staring at a screen, wondering why we feel so disconnected. Let’s be honest—we didn't land here by accident. Society didn't just drift into loneliness; we optimized our way into it. We traded the inconvenience of real human interaction for the seamless comfort of living behind a glass box.

The Machine

Every major shift in how we work, play, and communicate over the last decade has been designed to eliminate the need to interact with an actual physical human being:

• Remote Work: We traded the morning commute and office chatter for Zoom calls and Slack pings. On paper, it’s a win—no small talk by the coffee pot. In practice, we eliminated the accidental social touchpoints that keep us grounded.

• Digital Recreation: Multiplayer video games replaced local sports leagues and community clubs. You can spend five hours talking through a headset to a squad across the globe, yet finish the night without having made eye contact with a single person.

• Social Media Messaging: DMs, comments, and texting replaced real-time conversation. We get to edit, pause, and control our communication, but we lose the messy, spontaneous chemistry of live human connection.

We called it convenience. What we actually built was a structural encouragement to stay completely alone.

Present, But Not Accountable

Even when we do leave our homes, are we actually there?

Walk into any coffee shop, ride any train, or sit in any park. People are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, completely wrapped in their own digital bubbles. Noise-canceling headphones are clamped on tight. Eyes are locked onto cell phones. We occupy the same physical coordinates, but we inhabit completely different virtual universes.

Being in public used to require a baseline of presence—a nod to a neighbor, a brief exchange with a barista, or simply observing the world around us. Today, physical space is just the background environment where we wait until we can check our notifications again.

Starving for Presence

Social media promised us connection, but what it gave us was audience-building. Having 500 people view your story isn't the same as having one person ask how your day went over a cup of coffee. We are starving for real presence while being gorged on digital updates.

The common-sense truth is simple: people are not built to be remote observers of life. Real connection requires friction. It requires showing up, listening without a screen in front of your face, and tolerating the awkwardness of being truly present in a room.

Some of the best memories I have as an adult is working the night shift with a coworker of mine. The conversations we had were priceless and entertaining. A lot of them have led to some of the posts that you've read here over the years. 

But what if were glued to smart phones/internet back then? Would we have even had 1/3 of the conversations that we did?

How to Reclaim Real Connection

If we want to stop feeling isolated, we have to intentionally reintroduce being present into our lives:

1. Leave the headphones off in public: The next time you're getting coffee or riding transit, stay open to the room around you. (side note: in today's volatile climate it could save your life!)

2. Trade two DMs for one phone or in-person call: Stop sending paragraph-long text chains to friends you haven't seen in months. Pick up the phone or pick a spot to meet.

3. Practice unstructured presence: Spend at least 30 minutes a day completely screen-free—no background podcast, no passive scrolling, just being where your feet are.

Until we start treating real-world presence as a necessity rather than an inconvenience, we will keep swiping, liking, and typing our way into feeling completely alone.

You Hate Black Women

There was a time when saying, "I like chocolate ice cream," didn't require adding, "...and if you don't then you're a loser."

Somewhere along the way, we lost that.

Today, it seems like nobody is allowed to simply appreciate something anymore. Every compliment has to come packaged with an insult. Every preference has to become a competition. Every opinion has to produce a loser.

It's exhausting.

You can like iPhones without pretending Android users are carrying around calculators.

I can prefer Android without acting like every Apple customer was hypnotized by a glowing logo.

Both phones make calls. Both let you waste six hours scrolling through videos you'll forget by tomorrow. 

Sports fans do the same thing.

Someone says LeBron James is their favorite player.

Instead of saying, "I can see why," somebody immediately launches into a ten-minute TED Talk explaining why Michael Jordan would have beaten him while wearing dress shoes. (By the way, I'm Team Jordan.)

Here's a crazy thought: Maybe LeBron is great. Maybe Jordan is great. Maybe your favorite doesn't become taller because you shrunk someone else.

Music fans do it. Political parties do it. People who like cars, video games, restaurants, rappers, actors, etc.

The saddest example, though, is one I see far too often involving Black men.

A Black man falls in love with a White woman (or anyone who isn't Black). Good for him. Love who loves you, bro.

But then comes the unnecessary part.

Some of those Black men feel compelled to explain their choice by putting down Black women.

"They're too loud."

"They're too masculine."

"They've got attitudes."

"They're impossible."

Really?

If another race of woman makes you happy, great. But what exactly did Black women do to deserve becoming your press conference?

Imagine someone announcing they bought a Mercedes and then spending twenty minutes talking about how terrible BMWs are.

Nobody asked. Nobody cared. Just enjoy your Mercedes and keep it moving. Someone else will enjoy the BMW. Trust me.

If your happiness depends on insulting people you didn't choose, maybe you're not as happy as you're pretending to be.

Here's the part that bothers me most: boys are watching this! They're learning that it's okay to put down all Black women if the one you want doesn't want you (which is usually the case).

Real praise doesn't need victims.

• You don't have to convince me your spouse is amazing by insulting mine.
• You don't have to prove your favorite athlete by disrespecting another legend.
• And you don't have to justify your dating preferences by degrading an entire group of people.

Just like what you like and respect what you don't. It's really that simple.

My wife is black. My mom was black. My grandmothers were black. I love black women. I'm not saying they're better than every other woman. I'm saying they're my favorite. I welcome you to pump up your favorite in the comments if you feel compelled.

But "give me a sister, I can't resist her."