i read the following poem in The Star newspaper last Sunday (11th September 2011).
have we really become an exhibitionist society that gets its kicks from posting trivias and publishing personal stories with accompanied pictures to have a sense of belonging? or a sense of worthiness?
are we really out of touch with the real world interaction that the only way we could feel thoroughly connected is through social media? and perhaps other forms of electronic communications such as emails and chats are to be blamed as well?
i for one am guilty of this reclusive behaviour. of sending short messages to my parents instead of calling them. of checking my Facebook while doing homework with my kids. of posting photos while having a rare intimate date with my hubby.
can we honestly say that we could be totally 'unplugged' from it all? (to get you started on this journey, please watch this video on Interdependence.
and this blogging habit of late. well, i put it down on my need for self-expression. :) but then again, other people would contend that their urgent need to post online is their basic right to expression.
so what gives? is the way we live now would be through the faceless Facebook? where we gawk at the people whom we barely know and make uneducated guesses on their cryptic status updates (rather than picking up the phone to ask them point blank). there are even instances when we accidentally bump into each other, we do not make a point to nod nor smile to the very same people we have actively exchanged comments in the virtual realm. is this not hypocritical and disheartening, as well?
so what actually gives?
i know writing is a form of expression for me - a creative outlet in my otherwise quotidian life - that i feel compel to release in a rather semi-anonymously fashion in this portal. so to answer my own question on the reason(s) why i delve into blogging publicly, please bear with me as i have a short (hopefully) discourse with my subconscious.
(as this is (singular, not plural, mind you) just conscience and physical self conversing, there is no need for differentiation of course... weird :)
START/START
do i feel good after posting?
yes i do.
why do i feel good?
because i have managed to single-handedly produce something creative. on my own. without anyone's assistance (other than the usual surfing machinery ).
does producing something creative through writing makes me feel good?
yes, perhaps, in my opinion, because i don't talk as well, or could not articulate as well as i write. writing is a release. to form opinions and solutions, to form thoughts and ideas. where i feel i could be heard.
what are the reasons that i feel i am not being heard otherwise?
because there are other distractions out there which devalue or numb our needs to analyse our thoughts and emotions. there are our commitments, casual impersonal interactions and masks of bravado to hide any fear and embarrassment.
do i still want to continue writing?
oh yes. i must. i need to do this periodically when i have the time (and i'm taking the opportunity now as i'm more or less free). it nurtures my soul. i will be a better writer when i keep practising. i believe if we have a passion in something, and we strive to work at it or harnessing it, insyaAllah, we will be better at that something that we love and work hard for. eventually, good things will happen.
END/END.
anyways, below is the thought-provoking article which prodded me into self-analytical mode.
And so, with a gleeful heart, and a manic state of mind,
I set out on a task, a work of a
peculiar kind.
You may well not agree, but the fact that you’re still reading
proves that what I’ve written is, at least, worth considering.
Today I wish to reflect on, to lament, and to berate,
that malevolent creation we all would love to hate.
I speak, of course, of the conspicuous contraption
that occupies our time, our lives and our actions.
“The social network” is its alias, “the new media” its sobriquet.
It now permeates our lives in eerily omnipresent ways.
Nothing has ever been as scary since the birth of the TV box.
And thus, my soliloquy is entitled The Facebook Paradox.
Make no mistake, my friend, for I do not wish to vitiate,
that profile page of yours, which you have so painstakingly created.
Nor do I intend to degrade the
concept as a whole.
For I find the very idea novel, its
brilliance manifold.
It enables long-lost companions to reconnect with a click,
and it makes announcements a cinch, and oh, so very quick.
What I do wish to highlight are the many contradictions,
paradoxes and absurdities that litter this creation.
The first of which is its name, “Facebook” it is labelled.
But being neither a face, nor a book, how is this sensible?
At least “MySpace” makes some sense, so does “Friendster”.
But “Facebook” is plain ridiculous, a disaster in nomenclature.
The user base is massive, and at 600 million,
it is said that supposedly if the
network were a nation,
It would be the third most populous, behind only China and India.
Its population more than 20 times than that of Malaysia.
Yet its citizens are the most closeted, virtually and in fact,
they do not meet, do not converse, and they do not interact.
Other than via messages, pictures and witty comments,
The sterile life of netizens, divorced from real-life events.
As a social network, it fails
spectacularly
to connect people with people, friends and family.
For all that it does, is merely to encourage
us to sit passive, computer monitors in front of our faces.
Posting inconsequential wall posts, whilst vainly hoping
our friends would take interest, and in turn comment on something.
Or “like” our status updates, that it may be an indication
of how popular we are, in the realm of virtual interaction.
It also enables people to
vaingloriously pretend
that they are smarter than they are, by posting comments.
Or posts that are plagiarized, copied exactly word for word
from the works of someone famous, which they conveniently Googled.
But above them all, I find this habit the vainest,
the intentional writing of something vague and ambiguous.
Like saying “missing someone”, in the hope that people would
take notice or take interest, selfishly hoping that you’d feel good.
Or saying, “I’m angry at you!”,
without saying who the “you” is.
Assuming that people can read minds as easily as they read lips.
Another paradox that’s worth a mention, something that is used oft,
Our precious photos and their
privacy, or rather the lack thereof.
Uploading and tagging have now become commonplace,
we no longer give a second thought to the consequences we may face.
Should our unflattering and embarrassing pictures make their way
to some anonymous stranger, or perverts who stalk and prey.
Facebook is replete with paradoxes, that to name each and every one
is an exercise in futility, exhausting, and devoid of fun.
People tend to virtual farms, and cry over lost cows,
but in life have never seen a hoe, to use one, they don’t know how.
Yes I’m talking about that game, all of you know its name,
Farmville is so addictive, it is a drug more than a game.
Or that one in which you pretend you are a Mafia lord,
committing imaginary crime, for make-believe rewards.
Or pretend to spar with rival gangs, all of them made up,
until you scream with mirth and joy, when you finally “level up”.
You see, there is so much ludicrousness, and I’ve written them at length.
There’s obviously plenty more, but now I’m sapped of strength.
I think you get my point, that which I wish to convey,
That Facebook is absurd, in every conceivable way.
Contradictions aplenty, incongruities abound, and paradoxes galore.
Oh there are many other examples, but I wish to give no more.
But please, dear reader, allow me one last indulgence,
Before I take my leave and retreat to my silence.
One more thing to point out, please bear with this chatterbox.
Those who have the most friends on Facebook are also those
Who have the least friends in real life, distant or close.
And that, my (Facebook) friend, is the ultimate Facebook paradox.
