At first, we believe that a story, a building — a person — is "real," then we suffer disappointment when we discover how much is contrived. We have "friends" on Facebook but few in our presence. And if we cope by not believing anything we see or read, a cynicism grows that either destroys or grieves us. Occasionally, a genuine human encounter takes place, and we are taken aback by the solid feel of the conversation, by the contrast with our more typical clichéd, shiny niceness. We long for the real, the really real, anything that will make us think meaningfully or act creatively or laugh sincerely.
(The part that struck me was not the bit about Facebook "friends," but the cynicism: I've been working through a bit of jaundice toward the 'real world' as I've begun to experience the posturing, the inequities, and even the despair present in it.)
It's interesting to note the author teaches at Westmont, not too far from here!
