So as I discussed in a earlier blog post, I considered that, in cyberspace no one can hear you scream, moan or blog – unless they know your address. So tonight, I decidedly did that. At the end of the day, I do want people to read what I am writing of course, just had enough of the constant influx of information and of course messages and requests. So often I felt overloaded, spiritually and practically with things to do on there. It’s been weird really because it’s like an uncomfortable addiction. But everything in moderation is key really. Anything of too much and your destined for problems given enough time I think. Anyway, I was sat on my computer tonight, thinking about what to write and I had this idea of writing a status up directing friends to this blog. It’s been a weird week really without Facebook as that’s the only site I really go on. Instead on breaks I have been typing in ‘UK news’ into google and reading articles on there from various newspapers, even including the Daily Mail. Very interesting and kind of odd really as I’d presume their ARE actually people out there that agree with the opinions put out there. One of the ones that I read that sticks in my mind was written by Katie whats her name in the Daily Mail. I forget her second name, but you know the one – the one full of hatred and elitism all the time. And that’s what I garnered from the article I read of hers. Elitism, snobbery and hatred really. Not a good mixer and the type that sits in her lounge with her family complaining about the neighbours she doesn’t know much about ( “my family are all that matters BTW”)
Anyway, she has written this piece about who should and shouldn’t be allowed to sit in the royal box at Wimbledon. The question I was asking was “Why is there a royal box at all?” But she seemed to think it should be reserved for the ‘real royals’ and not the hangers on. Then she continued to say leave us to our strawberries and cream and go back to a muddy field at Glastonbury. She even had a popped at what she called ‘Marxist lefts’ like Tom Watson. This woman clearly doesn’t know her politics really does she.
Anyway, during the week, especially at work on my breaks, it was strange, I was stuck for something to do and that was normally filled in by Facebook time.
It’s been an interesting week so far without it though. More present in the moments, that is for sure. But the original plan was to not go on Facebook at all. But the nagging urge was to share. It was definitely there. But it wasn’t to ‘actively’ go on if you know what I mean – just to leave my message and log out. But it’s easy to go back on there once you have ‘left’ and a bit harder to leave. All I needed was a small hit from the social media syringe and it could tip me over the edge again. Well maybe I’m being over dramatic.
I even consulted Cia over it, popping in the kitchen, feeling like I was doing something wrong and just wanted to clarify why I was doing it. “I’m just going to go on Facebook for a minute” I said. She looked disappointed to me. But at the end of the day, It is my life and my choice and it is up to me. I know why she probably reacted like that, as any ex user, just says he’s going to have ‘one more’ and suddenly I’m a wreck sat in my own cyberspace drug den back for a little more. It caused a reaction in her, I’m not sure why – Afterwards we spoke about it and she said that “You said you weren’t going to go on it for a month and now you have” and “I just find it funny because you felt the need to go back on there to tell people”
And funny it is. Yes, because I went back to tell my fellow users, where I had gone to. Yes I missed people and of course, being in a different place; I missed people. I have missed hearing about things happening in Bristol. But that in itself is all a part of moving on I guess. I guess part of me hasn’t really said ‘goodbye’ to Bristol and who knows where I go next. Everything in comparison just seems, well quiet. Like life with the volume turned down. Which is nice in someways, not so in others. Sometimes I like it loud.
One of the other things I have noticed during this week is that whilst I have been working at various agency jobs people just don’t really talk to each other here – at work or on break times. Everyone just sits down looking into their phones – but perhaps that happens everywhere. Just that I’m noticing it because I’m not one of those people anymore, reading updates on Facebook and re posting. Hence why I started this blog, social media suicide to make some observations and realise something – and go back to my roots I guess.
Anyway, as soon as I logged on there was lots of notifications. a message, a solo message just waiting there. I knew why I was here, just to write the message and leave. I want people to know I’m writing about this experience and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. As I’ve said timeless on Facebook – the power is all in the sharing. It’s in our roots to share, in our bloodstream. But perhaps that’s just the addict in me saying that.
So it’ll be coming up a week without using Facebook. Well it’s not anymore is it? I went on. So I broke the deal with myself. Or did I? This abstinence based stuff is confusing. Well I went back on it and this is how I see it. I went back on because I felt the need to share, because deep down we all need connection and we all want to be heard, albeit in different ways. I may have stumbled at this hurdle but more than anything it’s just another chapter of this latest adventure within myself and the universe. Perhaps part of me was suppressing this feeling this need to have people read what I wrote. It’s sad really, needing people to read what you write for it to be justified.
That makes me think of how the western world has gone topsy turvy. When I was growing up there was this fashion of these diaries with a little padlock on them and you would hide them under your bed. Perhaps mainly ‘for’ girls, but I had one and a lot of my friends did to. Anyway, you would be horrified if anyone actually went to you diary and read it, you innermost secrets of who you fancied aged 12 and what you had for dinner last Tuesday. Now, we actively share such information, sometimes with complete strangers.
Well, I did it anyway. I admit that to myself. And now as this blog post comes to a close, There’s a part of me that is itching. That part that wants confirming. That part of me that wants to hear someone say, hope it’s going well, or even a ‘like’
What a weird phenomenon Facebook and social media is. We wait for the little notifications like crack hungry junkies. We wait, for anything, and will go for desperate lengths for a hit. Or is that just me?
Now the decision as all the decisions is mine. Do I go back on it just to check? I mean I need to deactivate my account again now anyway, so I do have to go back on there quickly anyway. Perhaps that’s the solution. Now I have ‘been on there’ to do what I felt I needed to do, now I say no more for the rest of the month. I love self analysis, I’ll go to my grave doing it – forever thinking about why someone said something to me two days ago, or what I must have sounded like when I said that. And then I realised it – It’s all mirrors isn’t it? Smoke and mirrors, there to distract us from the blaring truth right in front of us all the time. Right in front of us and a light inside us – LIFE
life and its ours, so precious. no matter what happens or who we are, this life is precious. So for now, I go and I’ll be back soon pondering some more and ‘sharing’ what I think again.
Why did I start writing this blog also? Perhaps I should have just bought one of those little diaries I had when I was twelve years old, and keep the little key in a jar next to my bed.