Except actually don't. I had a very long day at work today, finishing around 8pm :) :) :) :) So now I'm doing this in OG Adrienne Style, by which I mean at 10:30 when I should be reading or sleeping and instead I'm sitting down to start thinking about writing something now.
Today was a hard day. Our home internet wasn't working, and because I live in a Maltese house of character, it basically means that the bottom floor is under 1,000,000,000,000,000 kgs of stone and we don't get phone reception there, which meant I spent the day hotspotting from my phone but the only place my phone gets reception is in my room. So basically I spent the day working from my bed which may, in theory, sound delightful and like I am Living The Dream, in reality, it stinks. Maybe it would be good if I at least had the choice to leave but I didn't and it was Not Fun.
Isolation is a weird place. I found myself wanting to go for a run? It hasn't yet materialised into actually running yet but I've been wearing a sports bra for three days in anticipation that it might, and not wanting the excuse of needing to get changed to get in the way. I did voluntarily do some exercise: jumping jacks, sit-ups, push-ups, squats, etc. (There is not etc. That was all there was.) And normally I'm reluctant to go to bed in the abstract, there's-other-things-I-want-to-do-with-my-time-like-watch-another-episode-of-The-Resident way. Now I'm reluctant to go to bed because I have already spent all day in it so how do you transition to night-bed from day-bed.
My muscles, especially my legs, feel cramped and achy from the doing nothing - and I'm not the most active girl on a regular day. My sprint to the bus I'm always running late for is about it. But I feel increasingly like a tightly coiled spring with too much energy and nowhere to put it. I never thought the introvert in me would struggle so much to be housebound.
So this is Isolation Diary Day Something. I'm trying not to think about the uncertain endlessness of this looming in front of me. At this rate, I'll be running marathons - in my mind.
Wednesday, 25 March 2020
Tuesday, 24 March 2020
A Streak of Two is Still a Streak
I'm working on writing other things - stories, in theory, I suppose, or something. I asked for prompts to help my creative juices flow, which was great up until the point that I realised it created both an audience and an expectation, however indifferent either of those may be. At this realisation, of course my brain has now rebelled against doing absolutely anything related to anything that's been suggested to me, but I'm trying, I promise.
One of my brothers asked me to write song lyrics. Here goes.
...
Oh wait, that's not in my talent set. I can only think of overly earnest and cheesy things or obnoxious coronavirus-related ditties, and neither of them well-formed.
Okay, I'm going to cop out and go on a song lyric generator, where I will now create a song line by line with the inspiration word 'home'. Spoiler warning: It's a shit show.
Thank you https://www.song-lyrics-generator.org.uk/ ????
One of my brothers asked me to write song lyrics. Here goes.
...
Oh wait, that's not in my talent set. I can only think of overly earnest and cheesy things or obnoxious coronavirus-related ditties, and neither of them well-formed.
Okay, I'm going to cop out and go on a song lyric generator, where I will now create a song line by line with the inspiration word 'home'. Spoiler warning: It's a shit show.
A Song For Noah To Practice Guitar
Hospice, let's talk about hospice
I've got new multiple sclerosis
I need a rheumatoid mortgage
Like the neurosis over meiosis
Urogenital, urogenital girl
And when you're gone I feel creaky
You must think I'm a grumpiness
And every subconsciousness is squeaky
[chorus]
You don't wanna be wheezy like me
Got more carefree
I know you think that I'm turnkey
Got more carefree
An e for you and one for me
Got more carefree
You and me
Rheumatic, rheumatic boy
Then you came with all your ailing
You don't want to go crumbling with me
And I'm dancing because you're not failing
[chorus]
Save me from the unselfconscious neuralgia
Neuralgia neuralgia
Save me from the unselfconscious neuralgia
Internal ain't nothing when I'm tottering with ya
Tottering with ya
Monday, 23 March 2020
Let Us Embark (Perhaps)
Every return becomes a little more sheepish. Especially this one, six (6) years later. But where else to write nonsense on the internet? I could create a new blog of oddly assorted nonsense, but that seems to defeat the purpose. What makes this nonsense any different from the old nonsense? Years and wisdom? Not likely.
Here, newcomers to my life can track a few years of it in crippling detail: Harry Potter fanfiction (only one ... thus far), rants, doomed attempts at regular or frequent blogging, embarrassing confessions, etc. Longer-term investors in the life of Adrienne can return to all these posts you may have seen before, and delight in how far I haven't come.
I want to write more. I want to connect with a version of myself I seem only able to reach when I'm writing. Writing forces zero distractions. I can't write (well) while I watch TV or look at my phone. It is only through writing I can examine, explicitly or otherwise, parts of myself that fade otherwise. And now we're all basically in isolation and my computer is permanently set up glamorously on my coffee table while I learn how to work from home so there's really no excuse, is there? I will find one, don't get me wrong. But let's see how long it lasts until I do.
Reading back through these blogs always brings me a strange confluence of feelings. (Am I using that word correctly? Google didn't help. I think so. I'm sure my dad will tell me otherwise if he ever reads this.) I think I'm funny enough, and as you can see from the angsty poem below, it's pretty difficult for me to think good things about myself in general. I like reading my own work. But it also terrifies me, because a lot of it feels like it was written by someone else. Someone, and you might be sensing a theme here, better. I just reread a poem I wrote and I don't know anything about poetry so I can't exactly say it's a good poem but I can say that it captured a feeling that I know in a way I don't think I could capture now.
So I'm writing here again partly as an outlet. I spend so much time pouring things into my brain - phone, TV, podcasts, Youtube, there is literally enough content in different forms that you never ever need to spend a second alone with your own thoughts if you don't want to. I want to pour something out, instead. And I wish I was more multidimensional but I'm me and what pours out is words. Always too many and too fast but at least it's an out, not an in.
Also I did 20 minutes of yoga from a Youtube yoga instructor with almost my name today so I'm basically a lifestyle blogger at this point.
Oh and for the newbies? I never proofread. Well, I do, often, but I can never be bothered doing it before I hit publish, so think of the typos like a fun game where you get to figure out what I was trying to say, and the prize is comprehension.
Here, newcomers to my life can track a few years of it in crippling detail: Harry Potter fanfiction (only one ... thus far), rants, doomed attempts at regular or frequent blogging, embarrassing confessions, etc. Longer-term investors in the life of Adrienne can return to all these posts you may have seen before, and delight in how far I haven't come.
I want to write more. I want to connect with a version of myself I seem only able to reach when I'm writing. Writing forces zero distractions. I can't write (well) while I watch TV or look at my phone. It is only through writing I can examine, explicitly or otherwise, parts of myself that fade otherwise. And now we're all basically in isolation and my computer is permanently set up glamorously on my coffee table while I learn how to work from home so there's really no excuse, is there? I will find one, don't get me wrong. But let's see how long it lasts until I do.
Reading back through these blogs always brings me a strange confluence of feelings. (Am I using that word correctly? Google didn't help. I think so. I'm sure my dad will tell me otherwise if he ever reads this.) I think I'm funny enough, and as you can see from the angsty poem below, it's pretty difficult for me to think good things about myself in general. I like reading my own work. But it also terrifies me, because a lot of it feels like it was written by someone else. Someone, and you might be sensing a theme here, better. I just reread a poem I wrote and I don't know anything about poetry so I can't exactly say it's a good poem but I can say that it captured a feeling that I know in a way I don't think I could capture now.
So I'm writing here again partly as an outlet. I spend so much time pouring things into my brain - phone, TV, podcasts, Youtube, there is literally enough content in different forms that you never ever need to spend a second alone with your own thoughts if you don't want to. I want to pour something out, instead. And I wish I was more multidimensional but I'm me and what pours out is words. Always too many and too fast but at least it's an out, not an in.
Also I did 20 minutes of yoga from a Youtube yoga instructor with almost my name today so I'm basically a lifestyle blogger at this point.
Oh and for the newbies? I never proofread. Well, I do, often, but I can never be bothered doing it before I hit publish, so think of the typos like a fun game where you get to figure out what I was trying to say, and the prize is comprehension.
Wednesday, 5 July 2017
My Brain
This is dated July 2017 but it's actually been sitting in drafts most of that time and I'm publishing it now (March 2020) on this blog because a) it remains largely true lol and b) it comes from a point in time that while different (clearly), I also felt very creative and in touch with my thoughts and self in a way I feel very removed from now. I want to explore that more again here, on this blog, and not publishing this feels disingenuous. However, it does have much angst, and is very cringy, so please don't feel compelled to read it. K thx.
My brain can do fucking cartwheels.
My brain is the star performer at a circus
or a freak show.
My brain could be balancing twelve plates on its nose,
while standing on a beach ball and
while singing Celine Dion and
while juggling and
while belly dancing and
still manage to tell me what a fucking failure
disappointment
waste of oxygen
toxic person I am.
My brain is marvelous.
My brain is capable of twisting every thought
beyond recognition.
My brain can take the most explicit compliment given to me and
break it apart.
distort it.
bruise it.
shatter it.
annihilate it
me.
My brain is so strong and confident.
My brain knows exactly what it needs to think about myself and
none of it is kind.
My brain is my most powerful weapon
against myself.
And boy, do I use it.
boring
predictable
stupid
untalented
idiotic
selfish
poisonous
unlovable
pathetic
weak
desperate
neurotic
psychotic
rejecte- I could go on.
My brain wants me to.
My brain is telling me all the ways that list is incomplete.
Even this, I can't do right.
My brain has worn down the paths of my thoughts so well that
I literally can't conceive
of a single
positive trait
about
myself.
My brain can do fucking cartwheels.
My brain can do fucking cartwheels.
My brain is the star performer at a circus
or a freak show.
My brain could be balancing twelve plates on its nose,
while standing on a beach ball and
while singing Celine Dion and
while juggling and
while belly dancing and
still manage to tell me what a fucking failure
disappointment
waste of oxygen
toxic person I am.
My brain is marvelous.
My brain is capable of twisting every thought
beyond recognition.
My brain can take the most explicit compliment given to me and
break it apart.
distort it.
bruise it.
shatter it.
annihilate it
me.
My brain is so strong and confident.
My brain knows exactly what it needs to think about myself and
none of it is kind.
My brain is my most powerful weapon
against myself.
And boy, do I use it.
boring
predictable
stupid
untalented
idiotic
selfish
poisonous
unlovable
pathetic
weak
desperate
neurotic
psychotic
rejecte- I could go on.
My brain wants me to.
My brain is telling me all the ways that list is incomplete.
Even this, I can't do right.
My brain has worn down the paths of my thoughts so well that
I literally can't conceive
of a single
positive trait
about
myself.
My brain can do fucking cartwheels.
Monday, 3 July 2017
Representation
A poem.
If
You
Don't
Think
Representation
In
Media
Matters
It's
Probably
Because
You're
Represented
Everywhere
----------------------------------------
The other day at my weekly family dinner, a family friend brought up an event in my city that occurred a few weeks ago, and the surrounding controversy.
A local music institution, the uni bar, was closing its doors forever and having a huge closing night show, being organised by a local music event company. In the lead up to the show, the bands for the night were announced and it was going to be this huge thing, with lots of local bands as well as some (one) bigger name.
At one point, someone asked the promoter why there were literally no female or non-binary musicians playing, either as solo acts, as part of bands, or entire bands (if I recall correctly). The promoter responded with a typical terrible "but I'm organising it and this is the music I want to listen to and also here's an offensive and ignorant comment about non-binary people" response and it was major news.
So at this lovely dinner, I was the only one of eight people who thought that the line-up was an issue. Some had heard this new ~local celebrity~ on the radio and his comments hadn't been as offensive as those he made initially and were confused by the fuss. I explained his initial comment re: NB people and most of the table conceded that was uncool (not that I think most of my family are familiar with non-binary as a concept for gender) but still thought the line-up was fine.
I flat out refused to engage in this debate, which was a good move, because even the fact that a refused to debate was taken as an opportunity to illustrate to me all the many ways I was wrong. And while it's always fun to be the one person being picked on among a group of eight, I continued to shut the conversation down and refuse to be part of it.
Because here's the part that they wouldn't understand: If you constantly see yourself represented, in diverse roles and professions and films and music and media, of course representation isn't something you would care about. You're everywhere. Hell, I'm plenty of places, as a white cis able-bodied person. Even as a white cis able-bodied woman I'm more places than any other women who are not white or cis-gendered or able-bodied.
So you think the douchey promoter guy should have been able to just pick his boys club of bands for the night and it doesn't matter? Sure it doesn't matter to you, because you're there. You're visible. You see yourself everywhere. You don't care that there's no chicks there, because it's about the music, man. Why do you gotta make everything about gender? Isn't it worse if he hires a bunch of lady musicians PURELY because they're women? Isn't that the real sexism, choosing people just because they're women????
No. It's not. For many reasons, it's very not.
It's recognising that representation is important, even if it means you're represented less.
If
You
Don't
Think
Representation
In
Media
Matters
It's
Probably
Because
You're
Represented
Everywhere
----------------------------------------
The other day at my weekly family dinner, a family friend brought up an event in my city that occurred a few weeks ago, and the surrounding controversy.
A local music institution, the uni bar, was closing its doors forever and having a huge closing night show, being organised by a local music event company. In the lead up to the show, the bands for the night were announced and it was going to be this huge thing, with lots of local bands as well as some (one) bigger name.
At one point, someone asked the promoter why there were literally no female or non-binary musicians playing, either as solo acts, as part of bands, or entire bands (if I recall correctly). The promoter responded with a typical terrible "but I'm organising it and this is the music I want to listen to and also here's an offensive and ignorant comment about non-binary people" response and it was major news.
So at this lovely dinner, I was the only one of eight people who thought that the line-up was an issue. Some had heard this new ~local celebrity~ on the radio and his comments hadn't been as offensive as those he made initially and were confused by the fuss. I explained his initial comment re: NB people and most of the table conceded that was uncool (not that I think most of my family are familiar with non-binary as a concept for gender) but still thought the line-up was fine.
I flat out refused to engage in this debate, which was a good move, because even the fact that a refused to debate was taken as an opportunity to illustrate to me all the many ways I was wrong. And while it's always fun to be the one person being picked on among a group of eight, I continued to shut the conversation down and refuse to be part of it.
Because here's the part that they wouldn't understand: If you constantly see yourself represented, in diverse roles and professions and films and music and media, of course representation isn't something you would care about. You're everywhere. Hell, I'm plenty of places, as a white cis able-bodied person. Even as a white cis able-bodied woman I'm more places than any other women who are not white or cis-gendered or able-bodied.
So you think the douchey promoter guy should have been able to just pick his boys club of bands for the night and it doesn't matter? Sure it doesn't matter to you, because you're there. You're visible. You see yourself everywhere. You don't care that there's no chicks there, because it's about the music, man. Why do you gotta make everything about gender? Isn't it worse if he hires a bunch of lady musicians PURELY because they're women? Isn't that the real sexism, choosing people just because they're women????
No. It's not. For many reasons, it's very not.
It's recognising that representation is important, even if it means you're represented less.
Sunday, 2 July 2017
Blogging every day in July except the first because that's for dummies maybe?
I need to write more, and I want to write more, and I have been writing more, but only in small notebooks and only a page or two.
And as noted in the title, I understand it's kind of ruined already because I am starting a day late, but 'kind of ruined' works for me as a person so it should work for this thing, surely. SURELY.
Here's the thing though.
In my notebooks, I can write whatever I want, but on this thing, it's like, potentially public. I can either write real things (which are not nice cheery things) that I mostly don't want people to know about probably, and then I get to spend a whole month writing things that no one will see because I won't share it with anyone, so no one will know there are things here.
Or I can write other things. I can write things that are real but are not authentic, if that makes sense? They're things I really think but they're not what I want to write about.
I guess we'll see.
I do have some plans. I already have some verrrrry initial drafts of things. Which is good because usually when I do this, it results in me spending half an hour up at 11:30pm writing four lines of garbage to fulfill an arbitrary goal I've set myself and becomes more about writing to a quota than for any deeper, existential purpose.
Because this is very deep and existential.
Here is a truth: I feel numb. I feel disconnected. I feel like I am a puppet or wind up doll or robot. But none of those are quite right.
I feel like a human-shaped sack of sand, where the weight of moving any part of my body requires almost more strength than I have. I feel like it's taking all my self control to move my limbs in the way I want them to move to resemble a human being, or to move them at all. I feel like my movements look like they're being controlled by a remote from like, a real decent distance, which is probably reflective of the fact that I feel like I am controlling them from a real decent distance. I feel like the part of me that's meant to feel anything deeply and persistently has been locked away, and I can't get to it if I tried. This is a look of sentences starting with "I feel..." for someone who feels nothing.
Mostly, I feel like there's a human part left in me, deep deep down, and it's curled up tightly, in the fetal position, around the part of me that is meant to feel, and occasionally the human part looks up to see if it's safe to stand up and let go, to see if there's any sunlight or breeze, eyes hoping, and it sees nothing. Darkness and clouds. And every time it looks up, there's a little less hope there, and the look is a little bit quicker, and they come a little less frequently, and it holds on a little tighter.
There's a line in It's Quiet Uptown, from Hamilton: The moments when you're in so deep it feels easier to just swim down.
And it does. I can feel myself slipping further away. I can feel myself disconnecting more and more. Sinking.
Sometimes I can actually sense all the things I want or need to feel, like a wave cresting over me. Sometimes I can literally feel the weight on my skin like a physical presence. Pressing against me or swirling around me or grabbing me sharply. And it's too much. I sense it there, and I retreat, because it's too much. I've gotten so good at retreating, and the wave has kept growing, that I'm worried if I let it wash over me, it will crush me. It'll tear me apart and break me and suffocate me.
Well.
Let's see how long this stays up for, shall we?
And as noted in the title, I understand it's kind of ruined already because I am starting a day late, but 'kind of ruined' works for me as a person so it should work for this thing, surely. SURELY.
Here's the thing though.
In my notebooks, I can write whatever I want, but on this thing, it's like, potentially public. I can either write real things (which are not nice cheery things) that I mostly don't want people to know about probably, and then I get to spend a whole month writing things that no one will see because I won't share it with anyone, so no one will know there are things here.
Or I can write other things. I can write things that are real but are not authentic, if that makes sense? They're things I really think but they're not what I want to write about.
I guess we'll see.
I do have some plans. I already have some verrrrry initial drafts of things. Which is good because usually when I do this, it results in me spending half an hour up at 11:30pm writing four lines of garbage to fulfill an arbitrary goal I've set myself and becomes more about writing to a quota than for any deeper, existential purpose.
Because this is very deep and existential.
Here is a truth: I feel numb. I feel disconnected. I feel like I am a puppet or wind up doll or robot. But none of those are quite right.
I feel like a human-shaped sack of sand, where the weight of moving any part of my body requires almost more strength than I have. I feel like it's taking all my self control to move my limbs in the way I want them to move to resemble a human being, or to move them at all. I feel like my movements look like they're being controlled by a remote from like, a real decent distance, which is probably reflective of the fact that I feel like I am controlling them from a real decent distance. I feel like the part of me that's meant to feel anything deeply and persistently has been locked away, and I can't get to it if I tried. This is a look of sentences starting with "I feel..." for someone who feels nothing.
Mostly, I feel like there's a human part left in me, deep deep down, and it's curled up tightly, in the fetal position, around the part of me that is meant to feel, and occasionally the human part looks up to see if it's safe to stand up and let go, to see if there's any sunlight or breeze, eyes hoping, and it sees nothing. Darkness and clouds. And every time it looks up, there's a little less hope there, and the look is a little bit quicker, and they come a little less frequently, and it holds on a little tighter.
There's a line in It's Quiet Uptown, from Hamilton: The moments when you're in so deep it feels easier to just swim down.
And it does. I can feel myself slipping further away. I can feel myself disconnecting more and more. Sinking.
Sometimes I can actually sense all the things I want or need to feel, like a wave cresting over me. Sometimes I can literally feel the weight on my skin like a physical presence. Pressing against me or swirling around me or grabbing me sharply. And it's too much. I sense it there, and I retreat, because it's too much. I've gotten so good at retreating, and the wave has kept growing, that I'm worried if I let it wash over me, it will crush me. It'll tear me apart and break me and suffocate me.
Well.
Let's see how long this stays up for, shall we?
Monday, 9 January 2017
Caricature
Question:
So, given that every time I read through previous posts here, I get awfully embarrassed and want to erase everything, and given that vague, ambiguous numbers of people who have viewed this is fine but actually specifically knowing a individual person who reads this is also horrible, do I keep posting?
I mean, as witty and delightful as I may find myself now right now in this moment, I also find that every time I read back over an old post I feel this slight sense of weird, half-shame, half-embarrassment that feels like I'm reading a caricature of myself?
So, given that every time I read through previous posts here, I get awfully embarrassed and want to erase everything, and given that vague, ambiguous numbers of people who have viewed this is fine but actually specifically knowing a individual person who reads this is also horrible, do I keep posting?
I mean, as witty and delightful as I may find myself now right now in this moment, I also find that every time I read back over an old post I feel this slight sense of weird, half-shame, half-embarrassment that feels like I'm reading a caricature of myself?
Friday, 3 October 2014
Hey, two days running! That's ...something.
Today I sorted all my travel to Africa. Have I told you I'm going to Africa? I'm going to Africa. And let me just say that unless your travel agent IS my travel agent, my travel agent is better than yours.
Here's the deal.
Fly out of the CBR on New Years' Day, stop in Perth, change planes, fly Perth to Johannesburg, then J'burg to Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi where I'll be doing the community project work and stuff for two weeks.
Then, back down to J'burg for one night before flying up to Livingstone, the capital of Zambia, where I start my 9 day tour which includes seeing Victoria Falls, a game drive in Chobe National Park, a night in the Okavango Delta, a night sleeping under baobab trees, and more! The tour ends in Namibia where I fly down to Cape Town, where I'm HOPING I will get to CAGE DIVE WITH SHARKS OMG. And maybe some other stuff.
THEN I fly from Cape Town to Dubai, spending two nights there, before catching a flight to Perth for a couple of days to see ONE LOVELY PERSON and then home.
Eeeeek
This is a boring braggy post but I am VERY EXCITED. YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW EXCITED.
UNLESS YOU GUESS 'VERY' IN WHICH CASE, YOU GO, YOU. FOUR FOR YOU, YOU.
x
Here's the deal.
Fly out of the CBR on New Years' Day, stop in Perth, change planes, fly Perth to Johannesburg, then J'burg to Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi where I'll be doing the community project work and stuff for two weeks.
Then, back down to J'burg for one night before flying up to Livingstone, the capital of Zambia, where I start my 9 day tour which includes seeing Victoria Falls, a game drive in Chobe National Park, a night in the Okavango Delta, a night sleeping under baobab trees, and more! The tour ends in Namibia where I fly down to Cape Town, where I'm HOPING I will get to CAGE DIVE WITH SHARKS OMG. And maybe some other stuff.
THEN I fly from Cape Town to Dubai, spending two nights there, before catching a flight to Perth for a couple of days to see ONE LOVELY PERSON and then home.
Eeeeek
This is a boring braggy post but I am VERY EXCITED. YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW EXCITED.
UNLESS YOU GUESS 'VERY' IN WHICH CASE, YOU GO, YOU. FOUR FOR YOU, YOU.
x
Thursday, 2 October 2014
Blogtober? Blogtober.
It's happening. Maybe.
I mean, not yesterday, obviously. Although... I could always backdate this post to yesterday... Hmm...
Nope nope nope, I am embracing my failings.
But yeah, we're giving this a go. Expect to see:
Rants!
Short weird posts I make as I remember to post just before bed!
Maybe some well-thought out amusing things!
Feminism probably! Because that's always a safe bet.
Missed days certainly!
Lists! (see this post right now)
Complaining!
Reviews maybe!
Ah well, let's see how this goes.
Tune in tomorrow for a something!
I mean, not yesterday, obviously. Although... I could always backdate this post to yesterday... Hmm...
Nope nope nope, I am embracing my failings.
But yeah, we're giving this a go. Expect to see:
Rants!
Short weird posts I make as I remember to post just before bed!
Maybe some well-thought out amusing things!
Feminism probably! Because that's always a safe bet.
Missed days certainly!
Lists! (see this post right now)
Complaining!
Reviews maybe!
Ah well, let's see how this goes.
Tune in tomorrow for a something!
Sunday, 4 May 2014
Looking Up
WRITTEN LANGUAGE WARNING IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ SWEAR WORDS
Okay, so this is all over Facebook at the moment:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7dLU6fk9QY
Interestingly, I haven't seen it on any other social media, (twitter, tumblr, whatever) which I think speaks to the audience its engaging.
Not that there's anything wrong with people who only use Facebook for social media, but I think it shows that what this video is underestimating is not something that's seen by the bulk of people who use Facebook exclusively as their social media service.
So, onto what really super pisses me off about this video.
But first, I guess, I want to say that I get why people see the value in it. I get the message that sometimes we can miss things that are going on because we're online. I think the message that you'll miss your daughter growing up is incredibly, unrealistically extreme, but I get it. I do. People are starting to experience the world less through going outside and more through a screen. Whatever whatever, kids don't go outside, whatever, I get it.
But that fucking self-righteous, ongoing, implicit throughout, and explicit at the end, idea that offline life is the 'real' life and online life is worse and a waste and not real?
(i.e. "Live life the real way", "One real connection", "How you're glad you didn't waste [your life] looking down at some invention", "don't waste your life getting caught in the net".)
Shut the actual fuck up.
Do you know what you're doing, guy? You're calling mine, and many people's, online experiences fake, a waste, and saying it makes us idiots.
Do you know why you should shut the fuck up, guy?
Because some of my most valuable, meaningful, and personal important relationships are based entirely, or almost entirely, online.
I don't know you. I don't know where you go online. But the online communities I am lucky enough to have found and consider myself a part of are some of the most important in my life and have contributed to making me a better, kinder, more thoughtful, reflective and considerate person than I would be without them.
I have friends I have never met who will reach out to me whenever they feel or can see that I'm struggling, with no prompting.
Some of the best things I have ever done in real life have been based ENTIRELY off these communities which, without social media, wouldn't exist.
I have been changed, transformed, made who I am (which is not a bad or fake person, and I like to think not an idiot) by "this media we call social" which you claim to be anything but social.
Your discussing social media as if it completely negates real world experience is ridiculous. I spend a LOT of time online. A lot. I don't know if you've got that yet by my passion for social media and online communities. But if you haven't. It's a lot. You know what else I and everyone I know online has? Offline friends. Families. Offline lives.
Do you know what you're doing, aside from making an illogical conclusion that just because I like social media, that will somehow mean I'll be tweeting while I propose/am proposed to? Aside from your obvious attempts to tugs emotional strings with absurd exaggerations about how using social media will make you miss enjoying the birth of your child???
You're negating my experience and the experiences of many. You're erasing it as invalid, insincere, and artificial. You're kinda implying that the people I know who have met through online communities (not online dating, or anything - actual communities and friendships online) and have entered into relationships and got married are not as good or real as asking a random girl on the street for directions, and that the sharing, kind friendships I've formed are fake.
The community, companionship and sense of inclusion I feel are not, as you say, a DELUSION. I am part of communities which are some of the most progressive, inclusive, reflective, kind, sincere and open that I've ever encountered and all of those, EVERY ONE OF THEM, is an online community.
And every time your stupid fucking video gets shared on my Facebook, you are sending me the message that the friends and support networks and wonderful communities I have online are a waste of my time, are preventing me from fully living a "real" life (whatever the hell that means) and are impeding my ability to make or keep offline relationships. To which I say fuuuuuuuuck you.
Can you create, for me, accessible offline communities which openly discuss how to manage sexual assault within that community (as many online communities are doing RIGHT NOW, and don't even say something about the existence of sexual assault in online communities as evidence for their badness - I know you're not that silly) and which discuss privilege and oppression and and feminism AS WELL AS sharing gifs from Supernatural? Because I sure doubt it.
Do those things sound fake to you? Do those things sound like a waste of time? Does learning more about my privilege and how to acknowledge it and how to sensitively and appropriately interact with those people over whom I have privilege sound like a waste?
Does being exposed to hugely diverse peoples, communities and opinions, which I would never be able to experience offline and which result in giving me a better, broader understanding of how the world works and how complex people are, sound like a waste?
Maybe you have shitty online communities, dude, but let me tell you, you're in the wrong place on the internet if that's the case. So if you could not insult and degrade and invalidate how I choose to spend my time, making myself a better person, that'd be great.
Also! If you shared this on Facebook, I obviously don't hold this against you or feel upset that you shared it. I understand that my experiences are not really the norm for most people I know, and that maybe this video really resonated with you for person reasons. That's cool. It's just very hurtful to see my friendships and my communities disregarded. Especially because it's not an uncommon thing for people who haven't been exposed to a lot of online communities to do.
This rant is not even to mention the not-so-subtle shaming of parents who entertain their kids with iPads and other modern tech, the ridiculous refusal to adapt to what is, I'm sorry (not really), going to become a more and more integral part of life, and the lack of understanding over the facilitation of authentic experiences for people who struggle with offline interaction (social phobias/anxiety/etc).
You know what? Do it, take your self offline. I sure don't want you here.
Okay, so this is all over Facebook at the moment:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7dLU6fk9QY
Interestingly, I haven't seen it on any other social media, (twitter, tumblr, whatever) which I think speaks to the audience its engaging.
Not that there's anything wrong with people who only use Facebook for social media, but I think it shows that what this video is underestimating is not something that's seen by the bulk of people who use Facebook exclusively as their social media service.
So, onto what really super pisses me off about this video.
But first, I guess, I want to say that I get why people see the value in it. I get the message that sometimes we can miss things that are going on because we're online. I think the message that you'll miss your daughter growing up is incredibly, unrealistically extreme, but I get it. I do. People are starting to experience the world less through going outside and more through a screen. Whatever whatever, kids don't go outside, whatever, I get it.
But that fucking self-righteous, ongoing, implicit throughout, and explicit at the end, idea that offline life is the 'real' life and online life is worse and a waste and not real?
(i.e. "Live life the real way", "One real connection", "How you're glad you didn't waste [your life] looking down at some invention", "don't waste your life getting caught in the net".)
Shut the actual fuck up.
Do you know what you're doing, guy? You're calling mine, and many people's, online experiences fake, a waste, and saying it makes us idiots.
Do you know why you should shut the fuck up, guy?
Because some of my most valuable, meaningful, and personal important relationships are based entirely, or almost entirely, online.
I don't know you. I don't know where you go online. But the online communities I am lucky enough to have found and consider myself a part of are some of the most important in my life and have contributed to making me a better, kinder, more thoughtful, reflective and considerate person than I would be without them.
I have friends I have never met who will reach out to me whenever they feel or can see that I'm struggling, with no prompting.
Some of the best things I have ever done in real life have been based ENTIRELY off these communities which, without social media, wouldn't exist.
I have been changed, transformed, made who I am (which is not a bad or fake person, and I like to think not an idiot) by "this media we call social" which you claim to be anything but social.
Your discussing social media as if it completely negates real world experience is ridiculous. I spend a LOT of time online. A lot. I don't know if you've got that yet by my passion for social media and online communities. But if you haven't. It's a lot. You know what else I and everyone I know online has? Offline friends. Families. Offline lives.
Do you know what you're doing, aside from making an illogical conclusion that just because I like social media, that will somehow mean I'll be tweeting while I propose/am proposed to? Aside from your obvious attempts to tugs emotional strings with absurd exaggerations about how using social media will make you miss enjoying the birth of your child???
You're negating my experience and the experiences of many. You're erasing it as invalid, insincere, and artificial. You're kinda implying that the people I know who have met through online communities (not online dating, or anything - actual communities and friendships online) and have entered into relationships and got married are not as good or real as asking a random girl on the street for directions, and that the sharing, kind friendships I've formed are fake.
The community, companionship and sense of inclusion I feel are not, as you say, a DELUSION. I am part of communities which are some of the most progressive, inclusive, reflective, kind, sincere and open that I've ever encountered and all of those, EVERY ONE OF THEM, is an online community.
And every time your stupid fucking video gets shared on my Facebook, you are sending me the message that the friends and support networks and wonderful communities I have online are a waste of my time, are preventing me from fully living a "real" life (whatever the hell that means) and are impeding my ability to make or keep offline relationships. To which I say fuuuuuuuuck you.
Can you create, for me, accessible offline communities which openly discuss how to manage sexual assault within that community (as many online communities are doing RIGHT NOW, and don't even say something about the existence of sexual assault in online communities as evidence for their badness - I know you're not that silly) and which discuss privilege and oppression and and feminism AS WELL AS sharing gifs from Supernatural? Because I sure doubt it.
Do those things sound fake to you? Do those things sound like a waste of time? Does learning more about my privilege and how to acknowledge it and how to sensitively and appropriately interact with those people over whom I have privilege sound like a waste?
Does being exposed to hugely diverse peoples, communities and opinions, which I would never be able to experience offline and which result in giving me a better, broader understanding of how the world works and how complex people are, sound like a waste?
Maybe you have shitty online communities, dude, but let me tell you, you're in the wrong place on the internet if that's the case. So if you could not insult and degrade and invalidate how I choose to spend my time, making myself a better person, that'd be great.
Also! If you shared this on Facebook, I obviously don't hold this against you or feel upset that you shared it. I understand that my experiences are not really the norm for most people I know, and that maybe this video really resonated with you for person reasons. That's cool. It's just very hurtful to see my friendships and my communities disregarded. Especially because it's not an uncommon thing for people who haven't been exposed to a lot of online communities to do.
This rant is not even to mention the not-so-subtle shaming of parents who entertain their kids with iPads and other modern tech, the ridiculous refusal to adapt to what is, I'm sorry (not really), going to become a more and more integral part of life, and the lack of understanding over the facilitation of authentic experiences for people who struggle with offline interaction (social phobias/anxiety/etc).
You know what? Do it, take your self offline. I sure don't want you here.
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