I loved this place once.  We came, we fought, we conquered, we made up, we laughed.  Sometimes I even got a little teary eyed, maybe when the anonymity of it all allowed someone to open up and say something…very real.  Poignant, even.

I don’t like it anymore.  Maybe it was inevitable.  During the primary, all our passions and angers and emotions were directed somewhere.  We fought, over whether Hillary was the devil or a fighter, over whether Obama was different or a just another politician.  We fought over the importance of their gaffes, their speeches, their wins.  Maybe now, all that has nowhere to go but bounce around the walls of the Café, randomly striking whatever poster lies in its path. 

Now, friends are foes, one-time good natured arguments have taken on a whole new level or ire.  We used to be able to get into it.  The only “sides” we came down on were Hillary or Obama.  What now?  Us vs. them.  Which side of TPM do you sit on? 

No sane person would expect a group of people to get together, outside of TPM or within its virtual walls, and all get along.  It would be a sociological phenomenon if it happened.  The community here is subject to the same characteristics of any human community of any time.  There are friends, there are enemies.  There are people we like, and people we don’t.  There are people who feel like outsiders, and people who don’t see that at all.  There are rude people, polite people, funny people, sad people, confident people, shy people, thoughtful people, intelligent people, serious and silly people.  Just people.  We stick around, for the most part.  Something always brings us back, even when we tire of it for awhile. 

I’m tired now.  The only thing that seems to ignite anything these days are the so-called meta-posts, which descend into chaos faster than most. 

And meanwhile.  Meanwhile, the food banks are empty.  More people are on food stamps than have been in years.  We’ve got soldiers, young kids – fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters.  Friends.  Fighting in a place most of us can’t imagine.  Over 4100 people dead.  Mostly young people.  My peers.  Lives cut short, too short, for anyone to accept.  People, waiting in lines outside banks, hoping to get their money for fear of losing their house, their lifeline…their families. 

And still we fight.  But about the right things?  Perhaps because we are in agreement about so much, our predilection toward dispute becomes misaimed.  I came here for a fight, goddamnit, and I’m going to get one!

What to guide us then?  TPM policies?  Our own moral compasses?  Ah, the sweet nature of anonymity.  It relieves us of our inhibitions.  This can be a good thing.  It can open us up to say things we might not say outside of here, to try new things.  To be brave, and open.  But also, perhaps less constrained by what some might call social modicum.  TPM tells us to use the same language we’d use in a Coffee House, perhaps in a debate with friends.  Of course, this is rather vague, and subject to each person’s own personality and characteristics.  Quite frankly, I’d probably be more likely to cuss or say something like, “That’s the goddamn dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” were I in the company of my friends in a coffee house.  People I’ve known for years.  Sometimes you can really get into it with the people you know are still going to like you at the end of the day.  And the opposite is true too, in a way.  Here, without the politics of friendships and relationships, we might be able to say something we couldn’t say to friends.  For whatever reason. 

I’m not here to tell you to be nicer to each other, to appreciate each other’s points of views, to call out anyone for being mean to me, or praise anyone for being nice to me.  That’s not what this is about.  And you don’t have to recommend, or comment.  I just hope you read it. 

Really, it’s more my au revoir.  I’m going outside now.  To enjoy my flowers, and the way the sunshine hits my toddler’s sunny curls.  The feel of the sun on the back of my neck, and the remaining days where I can enjoy the sweet, humid embrace of summer. 

I can’t say I won’t be back.  I’ll be around, as I can’t help it now.  I’ve made friends, and I surely won’t be able to help myself when someone really does say the dumbest thing ever.  Just not for awhile.   

But for now, well…I’ve got to go see a man about a horse.