Every day, we open our eyes and often the first sound we hear is a report of something sad, or heartbreaking. The world we live in is far less kind than many of us would have it, though there is a subtle movement gaining speed, and I want so very much to be a part of it. That movement is toward kindness, away from sarcasm, coldness, or so-called "snark". There was a time when “snark”, or as I prefer to call it, “meanness”, crept into my being in ways I didn’t even realize. It was before my diagnosis with Bipolar disorder, before I went blind and then was fortunate enough to regain some use of my vision through six trying surgeries. It was before a lot of things. Before my grandmother’s death. Before my father's cancer. When I was younger, in more of a hurry to do everything quickly, and sometimes mistook snarkiness for wit or intelligence. Snark has been portrayed for years as the hip or cool way to be, and for a time I guess I fell into the trap of believing it. In the y...
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