Learning to use social media is a nightmare of freeway driving in a foreign country.
Lanes are not marked. The highway patrol is a mob. Government and corporate satellites track every move. Signage in a strange alphabet appears and disappears without notice.
Traffic zips by at varying speeds, from all sides, and in random directions. The other drivers—many of whom appear to be drunk, drugged, or deranged—are watching cartoons, making pornography, spreading gossip, and swearing into their cell phones.
Road rage is the norm. Crashes are common. Crowds gather by the side of the road to photograph, jeer, and assault the victims.
What on earth is a sane person doing in a social media class?
Fulfilling an academic requirement. Learning to survive in an alien culture. Wondering if the human race has lost its collective mind.
Out on the freeway, the clouds circle overhead, the sky turns a sickly green, and a whirlwind drags its deadly finger through eight lanes of traffic.
In cities across the land, citizens choking on tear gas have occupied the spaces that belong, by rights, to all. The mainstream media are broadcasting penguin videos and beauty contests.
There are the needs. Here are the resources. Surely there is something one person can do. Something as simple as blogging without a license. Perhaps, if they are asked, others will help.
And when the sun comes out, the crowds disperse, the freeway roars again—what then?
Maybe, just maybe, one posts a beacon. A hope. A friendly roadside sign.