Thursday, March 20, 2014

Social Weening


It was a time of riding the highpoint of a wave-- feeling invincible, unstoppable, like everything has been sorted out by colors and water temperature and just waiting for its turn to start.  Much like an amusement ride, everything at some point must break down and undergo maintenance before casualties arise or the whole thing collapses and becomes nonviable.  When exactly should one jump ship?  If you are the captain, you are held by maritime law to stay aboard till every last soul is off in times of emergency.  This is accountability.  Not many other instances in life share such strict policy.  It may be continual sleep deprivation, being overloaded with stress, perhaps even just giving out all hope, but I can't help but wonder when the point was that I jumped off and onto someone else's boat.  

In recent time, I have come to notice that certain everyday habits have become pointless, like so many forgotten rituals.  It was when I realized that I hadn't been spending time with myself that I noticed exactly that what I was spending time with was a completely empty endeavor.  Social media has been praised for bringing the world together, connecting long lost friends, family, and just as a great way to stay "in touch".  I recall Al Pacino's sonnet from The Devil's Advocate,

"Look, but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t taste. Taste, don’t swallow."

This is exactly what I feel about social media in terms of "staying in touch".  Maybe I’m wanting more than "in touch".  Maybe I prefer embrace over this mediocre styling of friendship--acquaintanceship.  There most definitely must be a correlation between suicides, facebook and bullying, but one has to ask if there's more to it than a simple equation of facebook+bullying= suicide.  Where are the variables, and why aren't people looking at the facts that aren't written on "the wall"?  

I come from a generation of people who were on the tail end of the wired age-- a lot of people my age were the remote control for the TV when the channel needed changed.  Leaving the house randomly and playing unsupervised outside at an undisclosed location was a normal thing for kids.  If you called someone, they may not have answered...  because they weren't home.  It's always been a curiosity for me to think about a post apocalyptic world where humans are just shadows burned into walls and aliens scavenge through our dumps to recreate our everyday lives.  Would they have museums that feature the echoes of society through the chips and salvaged tapes of answering machines?  It was not uncommon to come home to a blinking light on that soft white box, excited to hear the voice of the person who reached out to talk to you, missed you, and wanted you to know that they had tried.  Their voice having intonation, pitch, sincerity while it is delivering a message meant only for you.  It was like receiving flowers or being eight years old and answering the door to an unexpected care package from your mother.  These things are all unexpected and usually wanted.  What happens when life becomes more immediate?  When there is no longer a need for answering machines or home telephones?  When you are a walking communications hub that can track that package from anywhere in the 3G LTE network across 48 states and most US tributaries?  Does life evolve to compensate for everything happening so fast?  If it's been so slow for so long, how do we handle everything becoming so different so suddenly? 

Popularity surged facebook through the roof, bringing it up from a strictly college student user base to the masses--seniors, high schoolers and even children.  I've spent a lot of time on there.  In fact, a good 8 or so years of my life is chronicled through photo albums and what must seem like miles of status updates, notes and random link postings.  I was the first in my family to have a facebook, and now both of my sisters have one, my sister's daughter has one, my dad has one (for coupons), and even my dad's cat has a facebook.  The internet opens doors for trollers and non trollers alike, with facebook being the ultimate in troll interfacing technology.  Everyone has probably had at least one run in with a jerk that just won't let it go or starts sewing some ludicrous sweater of drama over a particular thread.  Everyone is watching, neither party can back down until the floor drips with the blood of the victor's enemy.  We are "friends" with these people.  At what point did the concept of "friend" take on the same properties as that weird, watered down, orange drink McDonalds used to sell for grade school functions?   Where is the value in the term if we ourselves don't assign it any?  

Of our 700 friends on facebook, it's easiest to send out birthday invitations to the 60 or so people we would actually like to see on our special day, maybe expecting about 30 or so at the most to actually show up.  The day arrives, and only 5 people you invited show up.  You peruse your "feed" while drinking a beer, looking at the pictures being posted of all the people you wanted to see that night out and about, when they rsvp'd yes, all the while trying to figure out how in the world you're going to finish all 120 of these damned jello shots.  It's hard to be happy when you feel like you've been forgotten by all these people that were once a major part of your life in favor of doing what they do every weekend, then blatantly posting and bragging about it where you can see it.  Thank goodness everyone's eaten all those tiny hotdogs!  Old Mrs. Dinsmore doesn't need any more of those!  

Using social media to be a bully isn't the whole problem here.  Using it to define yourself and/or your popularity is.  We are all hooked to this giant internet teet.  So focused on updates and pictures, memes, videos-- when exactly are we spending time with our "friends", or with ourselves for that matter?  How is this enriching our actual lives?  We're all hiding behind words, and the words can be so loaded that we all throw ourselves into a rock tumbler to smooth out our internet presence to that of acceptable to a mass audience.  There's a false celebration of individuality, but it's facebook... no one is going to be 100% themselves for fear of criticism.  Welcome to social media-- the big high school on a fiberoptic level where everyone is looking to express their likes, and their dislikes even more.  It's one giant homogenized colony of superficial images of beings that are actually much more complicated than they present themselves, but everyone seems to overlook that part.  People aren't so cut and dry, and I am not just the person I was on facebook.  I am much more than that, but because of the evolution of facebook, I don't appear that way any longer. On facebook, I am the cat lady.  I am the weird girl that says silly stuff.  I am not the person that struggles, because no one wants to read about it.  I am not the person that donates to help other people's causes, because people would wonder what my motive was.  I am not the person that expresses all of my thoughts, because that would scare some people, and possibly enrage them.  I am not the person I am on facebook.  I suspect most people would say the same of themselves.  I have had enough of it.  I shut it down.  Along with the immediacy of social interaction it provides, it also brings the immediacy of social anxiety. 
It has been 2 days since it has been shut down.  I have not felt the urge to pick it back up again.  I've decided to take the time that I would be wasting perusing pictures of animals and food, and investing it into myself in other, more productive and self improving ways.  I am pro-choice, and I’m choosing Life over the illusion of a life.  I may return some day, but for now I am on a voyage of an undetermined length and destination, to be left uncharted in the annals of facebook history.  To be represented by actions and not carefully selected pros.  C’est la vie, motherfuckers.  






         










Monday, January 27, 2014

yolo.

It's been an outright peculiar year and a half since I moved into this apartment.  There's been a lot of good, and more recently, more bad.  I guess part of getting out on your own is learning how to live in society and still make ends meet.  What started out as a venture in getting a new apartment with ample space to set up shop has become a constant silent battle with the downstairs neighbor.  She moved out during the summer, but left the hoard she had accumulated in the basement.  A new person has since moved in that is way more tolerable, and also shares the burden of dealing with "the shit in the basement".  I knew long ago that I would not be able to use the basement as a studio space, simply because all space are belong to the landlord's mom.  Since then, I had acquired a wonderful room mate under non so savory circumstances, and was able to enjoy her company up until she acquired an awesome job over in Illinois--far far away.  I've rearranged my habitat and have decided to dedicate one room to crafting, rehabbing and all out art hedonism.  I already have a few projects I need to finish up-- turning a 6 drawer card catalogue into a jewelry box, refinishing this kindergarten chair I found out by the dumpster, roccoco'ing up a faux fireplace, finish sanding and painting my bedroom furniture purple.  Most recently, I am planning on working out a tall lamp shade for a floor lamp I had in my first apartment.  I think it lived about 4 months before my old cat completely let loose the rage on it and ruined the delicate orange paper shade.  I could never bring myself to throw out the actual lamp base because I always figured I could make a new shade for it (and it was ridiculously expensive).  I'm tinkering with the idea of using perforated metal, but I will have to construct a new armature for it since the original one was thrown away, and would probably never have been able to support the weight the base will possibly handle. I already have a lot of metal working tools and my dad randomly bought me metal shears about 6 months back that would be fabulous for this project.  I've found 2 vendors that I should be able to order the sheet size I actually need for this.  I know the materials I want to use, so now it's a question of getting it all together, in the shape that I want, with no sharp edges.  I'm going to get a very cheap lamp from a thrift shop and see if I can construct a mini version so I can work out the kinks for the large scale project.
 

I've been pouring through craiglist ads looking for a cheap desk that I find remotely aesthetically appealing.  I've spotted a few, but haven't stumbled on any I want to commit to.  I will probably need to get a table as well and maybe a book shelf to house things.  I've brought over my old cork board, so I'll need to start pinning things up soon-- collecting random clippings and momentos.

Another thing on my list is to start using sketch books again and doing a little collage work here and there.  I found an old one that actually spanned most of my college years.  I was going through it the other night and remembered how much I actually liked using sketchbooks.  It made me think of how much more different my life was 3 years ago and how much happier I was then.  I guess I've sort of hit a wall.  I know what I need to do, and that's get back on the art wagon in one way or another.  I'm a much happier person when I'm making. 

In recent history, a person I knew had told me that they had no hobbies and that they thought they were a waste of time.  Coincidentally, that person turned out to be a waste of time.  Don't be that person.  Hobbies are normally a way to explore your interests.  A person with no hobbies isn't interesting.  I'm sure there's some relative witty quote I could insert here from Mark Twain or Oscar Wilde.  Pretty damn sure.  Instead, I will close this with a qoute from Candy Darling that I feel sums up the state of things in my life currently:

"Dear Diary, I try to get what I want, whenever it's possible. I have always found that socially unacceptable people make the best lovers because they are more sensitive. I can be happy and fulfilled. I will never doubt it. I can not afford to. Each thought, each movement turned into a great moving force. Love Candy."

And with that, I begin my motion forward to manifest my destiny.