Posts Tagged ‘real

20
Jul
18

Cherish Your Anonymity

*****

With so many suffering heavy punishment for speaking their minds via modern technology, it’s ever more vital we who do not “tweet” with our actual names spelled out on a glowing screen applaud and celebrate our “anonymity.”  We cowardly souls who bravely don costumes and vent as we feel fit when technology works with us; we should be comforted and celebrated.

It seems like every day in the news someone is getting grilled for something “offensive.”  We have squads of LGBT and feminism police officers, hordes of body-celebrating (instead of shaming) and various other armies going to war with the most sensitive of mining equipment capable of picking up the slightest blip of questionable commentary, increasingly adjusting the high standard of moral conduct until everyone who isn’t a violated woman or LGBT-type person will be guilty of offense and thereby open to verbal, mental and physical assault by the so-called victims.  So far, we without publicized names have been safe of retaliation.

I can’t speak for every offense case, but I would not be surprised if some offenses deemed fit for court or the loss of a job turned out to be misinterpreted.  After all, kids on a playground can cry wolf and have a teacher call a parent simply because the tattle-tale had a sweet face or stronger voice than the supposed offender.  And, who is to say some of these offensive voiced bits aren’t said at times when the speakers are not in the best of moods or right minds?  I know I don’t subscribe to alcohol or recreational drugs.  But, others do.  And, just because shit comes out of one’s mouth three years ago on a bad day does not mean that person is anti-gay or a chauvinistic maniac.

And, what if someone is a tad gay-phobic or unclear on the nature of that lifestyle?  Is every inappropriate remark worthy of jail time or a giant fine?  Are we catering to lawyers so they can put their hideous faces and names on every item advertised on local TV?  I don’t want to see so many lawyer ads.  I don’t want those people thinking they run the place just because they are getting old and think investing in a little advertising everywhere makes them immortal.  You TV lawyers have really become annoying!  And, I will not likely support you or any cause/company with your name on it because you are (annoying).

But, I’m getting off-subject, now.  Ehem.

You really have to mind your words and be sure you don’t touch another living soul lest you be accused of inappropriately fondling someone.  A pat on the back could be deemed the grabbing of a breast (on your back, apparently).  A sociable kiss on the cheek might be viewed as unwanted intimacy of the worst kind unless you can certify you are from a nation that does this socially as a part of their native culture.  Parents who kiss their kids on the lips?  You’re likely next on the chopping block.

One wonders if “social media” isn’t a mousetrap.  It lures people out of hiding to voice every little thing to come into their tiny brains…only to get them in trouble?  Snap!  You’re dead and out with the banana peels you slipped on coming in here.

But, I suppose, being anonymous DOES have it’s setbacks.  I mean, people are less trusting of random or fake names…unless you learn to share a sense of creativity and/or humor and can spell correctly (which so many cannot).  [Stop trying to speak English if you cannot use a dictionary.  I don’t use Spanish words I don’t know how to spell.]  You can’t really be a shopkeeper with a fake name, can you?…unless it’s a brand name.  But, even then, you have to be accountable for that shop with a real name/some form of ID.   People who use their real names seem to be taken more seriously because they seem fearless and, well, real, genuine.

[Yet, in this shady world of face-less interaction–unless you use some service like Skype which seems already forgotten these days–how do you determine a real face you see is that person’s real face?  And, how many “faceless” internet users stalk those “real” people, taking advantage of the exposed while remaining randomly generated user names, often with long barcode-like numbers attached, giving me the impression they are “bots” or some call center staff members in a building dominated by Middle-Eastern folks by the dozens?]

It seems astounding that more celebrities don’t use fake online names/accounts.  But, maybe they do, and all we know are the ones we hear about in the news when some mosquito with a microphone or phone-camera is stalking these people.

Once upon a time, people kept personal thoughts on parchment scrolls they had to carry with them wherever they went.  If anyone else read them, it was because the author read, lost or donated the scrolls.  Many years later, people kept notebook-style journals, especially teenage girls, who would lament brothers and parents violating their privacy.  Now, we have computers of various capacities and sizes.  And, instead of a PC journal like the one Doogie Howser, M.D. kept, so many turn to blogs and these accursed “tweeting” type accounts, putting everything “out there” for the world to see and LIKE and shallowly evaluate from afar…from anonymous spaces.

In short, those of you who have not put your real selves out for all to see, ye who do not YouTube your boob lube and hash-tag your new ‘do rag and personal mag’ (magazine), blippity blobbity blah!….  My blood pressure spiked just then and tangled my tongue-fingers.  Or, is it my finger-tongue?  Anyway.  Those of you, like me, who create unique identities for themselves online for whatever reason, embrace and applaud your anonymity, today.  And, count your blessings.  Because you could be somewhere down the list of those moral-criminal-hunting Elmer Fudds and receive severe punishment for the slightest misunderstanding or careless outburst on your worst day.  But, for now, you’re Joe Cool and free to be loose with those journalistic lips.

[We should start a holiday.  But, no one seems to follow me on those thoughts any better than I follow others.  So, I guess I’m limited to suggesting and waiting for some trendsetter to print up all the hoopla and manufacture all the swag.]

Happy Anonymity Day(s)!

25
Feb
14

It’s So Sad When You Don’t Know Where to Turn

It’s nothing new, but, upon either going to bed last night or waking this morning, I had a low moment.  And, in this moment, I pondered the weight of discomfort from not having someone with whom I can feel completely comfortable and share my deepest thoughts in the same living space.

Now, for those of you with your heads wired to some digital gizmo like a PC or–more likely these days–a “pad” or “smart phone”, don’t get your brain coils in a pinch.  For some if not most of you, this space right here is where you turn to divulge your deepest thoughts.  This is your breathing room, your therapist couch, your venting space.  You probably have more (Fbook) friends than those you can actually pat on the back and visit with when you’re blue.  For you, this may be a living space.  But, not for me.  This is almost the equivalent of talking to someone through a styro-foam cup phone.  ‘Don’t know what that is?  Look it up.

While it may seem like I am venting, I am but scratching the surface of my brewing, stewing emotions, my volcano of internal conflict that cannot decide which way is up and who to trust.  When you can’t trust your own family and don’t have at least one friend you can sit down with for more than an hour a week, you may find yourself “spinning tires” and wondering what really is right from wrong.  Often I question myself along similar lines.

[I may have written some of this before.]  In my youth, I thought I was always doing right.  At least, I did my best to be good and make my parents proud.  But, beyond my consciousness, there were those who kept pointing at me and telling me what I did wrong.  And, no matter how I tried to remedy the situation, I couldn’t get it right.  Was I simply disobeying instructions?  Was I a rebellious child who needed to be disciplined?  I didn’t think so then.  And, I’d like to think there was/is more to it even now.  But, something denied and occasionally continues to deny me the right to be right in the eyes of others.

Starting probably in high school, I began to distrust people and shed my optimistic naivete.  I began to realize reputations were often lies cooked up to make/demand more money.  I stopped buying into brand names and started scrambling to find my own unique path.  Pretty soon, it seemed no one was left to trust.  Nearly everyone used the same words (I didn’t like) and didn’t seem to care if what they did or said upset me.  Some even snickered and chided me for reacting defensively.  I wasn’t about to trust people who snickered at me when I was upset. 
It’s probably gotten worse over time, the nagging question of trust.  What (commercials) do I believe and which do I just brush aside?  Who’s selling a scam, and who’s trying to offer genuine help?  [I know I’ve made my share of stupid financial decisions, already.  And, I don’t want to continue the trend.]

On top of all this, the judgement of others has influenced MY judgement of others.  I am fairly certain being critiqued and questioned much–if not most–of my life has made me a judge/critic o others.  It’s like carbon dioxide spewing from my mouth.  I don’t consciously take pleasure in it.  But, it happens like breathing.  And, only with aging and deep reflection do I comprehend the reactions of many I meet.  I wouldn’t be too comfortable around someone critiquing my decisions/choices every day.  If they don’t accept me as I am, I know I’ll be on guard/defensive.  However, I think I am possibly more tolerant than some I meet who are quick to turn silent and distance themselves.  I think.

I went through elementary school with a handful of those I’d call friends.  I was lucky if two stuck by me for more than two years.  One did stand by me for nearly ten years before we lost touch.  I went through high school lucky if I had one friend who stood by me for a year.  Every following year, it seemed people changed, and I once more found myself grasping for a life preserver.  As I got out of school and into the working world, making friends became even harder.  There might not have been as much gossip going around, but it was (and has been) difficult to socialize with anyone without some supervisor/boss finding fault with this.  Take it outside of work?  I’d sure like to do that.  But, I can’t seem to find the right words to convince anyone to try it.  No, I was lucky if I could talk at work.  Anything more was cutting into their time with other people.  Or, I didn’t/don’t fit their “circle” (age group).

So, here I sit, with a number of tasks stacked on my “to do” list and little to no “stamina” to see them through “simply” because I feel the need to have some…support (sort of like a small child counting on their parent/s to be there for them) and/or companionship.  And, every day I don’t tackle one of those items, I feel guilty.  I feel lousy.  I endure tension in my body which clamps a vice on my elbow and tightens my breath.  I look around me and tremble, wondering who I should chance speaking with about what’s bothering me.

Then, I look at the computer and think back to all the years I already spent on the thing hoping to make better connections with people far from home.  On top of paying an internet service bill, my eyes have paid for my time here.  And, what do I have to show for it?  Some foggy, bittersweet memories of people who would mean nothing to those I deal with on a daily basis face-to-face. 

I listen to/read/watch the local news and try not to absorb all of the negative, frightful and discouraging crap that goes on here and in other parts of the world.  [I don’t enjoy it but need to stay informed lest I be completely unaware when some important stranger knocks at my door over something I missed.  It’s better (for me) than trying to scan a tiny screen flooding my hands with battery “heat” and wireless transmissions and waiting for my eyes to cross.]

I worry–one of these days–someone is going to come along and pack my life up in a heap or stack of boxes, leaving what’s left of me in the dust with no redeeming sense of satisfaction.  I worry I’m either going to end up homeless, starving and mad…or locked away somewhere because I failed to follow some procedure which was intended to create order even though it upset my soul and the souls of so many others I may encounter.  I worry what the future may bring as stupid humans chase their whims with little to no respect for who is involved/affected by them.  It’s like watching two infants fight over a toy.

Part of me hopes everything will work out for the best (including my best), and that all my worries will be smoothed out by reassurances I simply had to age to find.  Another part of me anticipates some drastic disaster (or prolonged waste of time and resources) that will turn this world into one of those futuristic, dystopian movie settings with robots running amok and people fighting in filthy streets for the last scrap of food or clean water.  If you want my opinion on the possibilities of alien life/worlds and making contact with them, I’d say the aliens should–and probably do–keep their distance until Earth straightens itself out (unless they have the strategy/means humans fail continually to find/establish, the ideal road to mutually beneficial compromise and teamwork without competition over money and/or land).  Otherwise, they risk becoming the next batch of slaves (by feeding human greed) or starting another senseless war (by being viewed as a threat).  Just like those who get divorced struggle (well, some struggle while others jump right into another hot mess) to shed the baggage of the past and start anew, I am not sure the aliens could presently handle Earth’s baggage if they hope(d) to start a friendship.

Some of you out there (here) might come from “broken families” and find it “easy” to take command of your own lives…because you “have to” to survive.  You might not like it, but you see no other alternative to calling hotlines and consulting complete strangers for assistance.  But, for me, growing up with the confusion I did and feeling burned by those I “had to” trust early on, it’s excruciating (like an elderly person who can no longer stand with ease trying to go to the bathroom alone) for me to take those chances.  I don’t multi-task well.  I forget things and miss details when something unexpected suddenly overwhelms and preoccupies my mind.  I fight the forces that drive others to suicide almost daily.  [But, in the end, I may have no choice.  Yet, people say, “There’s always a choice.”  And, I wonder…]




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