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I AM GOING TO DIE
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The Plebeian Suicides
06 July 2009 @ 11:02 am
I enjoy 4 am: It is a transition beween wakelessness and remote awareness of the world around you, where your senses are wary of stimuli and you quietly anticipate dawn in all its boring certainty. 4 am is morning masquerading as night, although I welcome such admirable pretense.
Also, this morning I decided to deactivate my Facebook account for an indefinite period of time. I have no qualms about me being hypocritical in making such a choice and endeavouring to guard myself against the despicable habit of being hypocritical. There is no madness to how abruptly I can make my mind up about such things. (In fact I think it explains a lot about the kind of person I am, such as the unevenness of my writing which varies according to my mood, but I digress.) I don't have a case for the need to be selective in our means to establish relationships, nor am I trying to prove that only sad people with nothing better to do use Facebook. I understand precisely the mentality behind it because I'm part of it myself. Despite the overwhelming lack of objectivity vis-a-vis what I've embarked on, I suppose the expected outcome would be quite fascinating. The rationale comes down to: Why are we so enamoured of the things that happen in people's lives when we aren't really interested in them? I'm guilty as charged. I go on Facebook and I look at photographs of people partying and having fun and kissing their boyfriends and it's not even as if I derive the tiniest bit of pleasure from doing so but I go ahead anyway. The pointlessness of engaging in such a pursuit is further amplified by the fact that I probably wouldn't be interested in making actual conversation with these people if I bumped into them in real life. I have to qualify, though, that I don't have an issue with putting myself up for "equal scrutiny", although modesty would then compel me to say that I don't think I'm interesting enough in the first place HAHA.
So what is with this enchantment? The unnerving part of it: Feeding your predilection for voyeurism on a portal for information that is once or maybe twice removed from the person. The intimacy of spontaenous interaction, spatial or emotional, is taken away and your judgement entirely falls prey to the perils of subjectivity. One might argue that there is nothing wrong with this, it is the same sickness that plagues all of us mortals obsessed with lives that are not aloof of our existence (read: our frequent perusals of Perez Hilton.) Besides, as Noelle said, you can never get to really "know" somebody in real life either since "people choose to represent themselves differently to different people". That is all well and true. Reminds me of what we were saying that day about Descartes' cogito argument: That perception is flawed and we can only rely on the truth that doubt is "real". However I would rather prescribe myself to the instincts that my flawed perceptions trigger off rather than have nothing to fall back on at all. Again, this may be fallacious because believing in what might turn out to be an illusion is not necessarily better, but I don't want my mind, no matter how vulnerable it is, to be estranged in the process of knowing you.
My assumption is that life will go on as per normal without Facebook. I do not need it to "keep in contact" with the people I genuinely care about and I hope care as much about me. Two ironic things that happened in the process of deactivation: A message popped up from Facebook that read ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DEACTIVATE YOUR ACCOUNT with a long list of people's names --- "Ethel will miss you Phoebe will miss you Amanda will miss you..." A roll of names that I haven't spoken to in forever and frankly do not care much for. By the way I have no idea who the hell Ethel is or why I even accepted her friend request in the first place, but hey. Just proof that I have been sucked too deep into such inanities. Apparently I have about 400 plus friends on Facebook, but my "real" friends don't use Facebook to talk to me and the others are either acquaintances or complete strangers. This proves that the very function of Facebook is rather disputable: If I don't give a shit about these people now, why on earth would I want to use Facebook to get into contact with them 10 years later?! It doesn't make any sense to me suddenly.
The second irony: Right before I deactivated my account I logged into my hotmail and I had an email from a Linus Toh requesting to be my friend. No idea who he is, either. Facebook then requested that I put down a reason for why I chose to temporarily deactivate my account.
I wrote "because I realised I needed to attend to my life".
Also, this morning I decided to deactivate my Facebook account for an indefinite period of time. I have no qualms about me being hypocritical in making such a choice and endeavouring to guard myself against the despicable habit of being hypocritical. There is no madness to how abruptly I can make my mind up about such things. (In fact I think it explains a lot about the kind of person I am, such as the unevenness of my writing which varies according to my mood, but I digress.) I don't have a case for the need to be selective in our means to establish relationships, nor am I trying to prove that only sad people with nothing better to do use Facebook. I understand precisely the mentality behind it because I'm part of it myself. Despite the overwhelming lack of objectivity vis-a-vis what I've embarked on, I suppose the expected outcome would be quite fascinating. The rationale comes down to: Why are we so enamoured of the things that happen in people's lives when we aren't really interested in them? I'm guilty as charged. I go on Facebook and I look at photographs of people partying and having fun and kissing their boyfriends and it's not even as if I derive the tiniest bit of pleasure from doing so but I go ahead anyway. The pointlessness of engaging in such a pursuit is further amplified by the fact that I probably wouldn't be interested in making actual conversation with these people if I bumped into them in real life. I have to qualify, though, that I don't have an issue with putting myself up for "equal scrutiny", although modesty would then compel me to say that I don't think I'm interesting enough in the first place HAHA.
So what is with this enchantment? The unnerving part of it: Feeding your predilection for voyeurism on a portal for information that is once or maybe twice removed from the person. The intimacy of spontaenous interaction, spatial or emotional, is taken away and your judgement entirely falls prey to the perils of subjectivity. One might argue that there is nothing wrong with this, it is the same sickness that plagues all of us mortals obsessed with lives that are not aloof of our existence (read: our frequent perusals of Perez Hilton.) Besides, as Noelle said, you can never get to really "know" somebody in real life either since "people choose to represent themselves differently to different people". That is all well and true. Reminds me of what we were saying that day about Descartes' cogito argument: That perception is flawed and we can only rely on the truth that doubt is "real". However I would rather prescribe myself to the instincts that my flawed perceptions trigger off rather than have nothing to fall back on at all. Again, this may be fallacious because believing in what might turn out to be an illusion is not necessarily better, but I don't want my mind, no matter how vulnerable it is, to be estranged in the process of knowing you.
My assumption is that life will go on as per normal without Facebook. I do not need it to "keep in contact" with the people I genuinely care about and I hope care as much about me. Two ironic things that happened in the process of deactivation: A message popped up from Facebook that read ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DEACTIVATE YOUR ACCOUNT with a long list of people's names --- "Ethel will miss you Phoebe will miss you Amanda will miss you..." A roll of names that I haven't spoken to in forever and frankly do not care much for. By the way I have no idea who the hell Ethel is or why I even accepted her friend request in the first place, but hey. Just proof that I have been sucked too deep into such inanities. Apparently I have about 400 plus friends on Facebook, but my "real" friends don't use Facebook to talk to me and the others are either acquaintances or complete strangers. This proves that the very function of Facebook is rather disputable: If I don't give a shit about these people now, why on earth would I want to use Facebook to get into contact with them 10 years later?! It doesn't make any sense to me suddenly.
The second irony: Right before I deactivated my account I logged into my hotmail and I had an email from a Linus Toh requesting to be my friend. No idea who he is, either. Facebook then requested that I put down a reason for why I chose to temporarily deactivate my account.
I wrote "because I realised I needed to attend to my life".
16 May 2009 @ 09:21 pm
Just stumbled upon the long-abandoned blog of a friend. I know I am completely and utterly hypocritical to say this but DAMN WHY DO PEOPLE FRIENDS LOCK EVERYTHING. Now I have to reluctantly stamp away the evil thirst to read something salacious. Interesting to know how people change over the years. If you are reading this: Your writing has evolved a lot. It resounds with so much more finesse. But you also sound more detached and wary, a shadow of your old eagerness. I wish I knew you then. People are always more truthful when they know less.
I just deleted my e-Portfolio. It was like a wraith that kept coming back to haunt me, I couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over me after deleting every single entry. I find it interesting to visit old blog URLs only to be told that they have been "deleted and purged" by the user. The use of the second word seems exceedingly strong upon first sight but if you examine it in context it makes perfect sense. Surely you want to smother the poltergeist of your past with the smoother and more certain cover that experience has given you. You don't want the people whom you think you know now to find out about the embarrassing obsessions that you've had. So you shut down, move to a new space, you write again. It doesn't matter if your writing now reeks of caution or aloofness, because that would still be preferable to the naive musings of long ago... Nobody thinks much of the contrived quality of your writing so long as you sound like you actually use your brain and your writing flows coherently and pleasantly, even if it is a little bland. To make the now more likeable, we sacrifice the uglier and more honest bits of our younger selves. We've all done it --- I dare all of you to say you haven't felt in the least bit disconcerted when somebody makes a distinct reference to some obscure memory you have. I am just as guilty of this as everybody else. This is why we call it purging. It is the removal of association to something less savoury but not necessarily worse.
People always talk about being remembered. So they take it upon themselves to make sure it happens (or sometimes, other people do it for them), in suitably commemorative spirit, in spectacular pyrotechnical displays of written thought. What we don't celebrate is the art of making sure that people forget. If they don't, then we cannot re-create. And from re-creation a sea of new possibilities is birthed.
I just deleted my e-Portfolio. It was like a wraith that kept coming back to haunt me, I couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over me after deleting every single entry. I find it interesting to visit old blog URLs only to be told that they have been "deleted and purged" by the user. The use of the second word seems exceedingly strong upon first sight but if you examine it in context it makes perfect sense. Surely you want to smother the poltergeist of your past with the smoother and more certain cover that experience has given you. You don't want the people whom you think you know now to find out about the embarrassing obsessions that you've had. So you shut down, move to a new space, you write again. It doesn't matter if your writing now reeks of caution or aloofness, because that would still be preferable to the naive musings of long ago... Nobody thinks much of the contrived quality of your writing so long as you sound like you actually use your brain and your writing flows coherently and pleasantly, even if it is a little bland. To make the now more likeable, we sacrifice the uglier and more honest bits of our younger selves. We've all done it --- I dare all of you to say you haven't felt in the least bit disconcerted when somebody makes a distinct reference to some obscure memory you have. I am just as guilty of this as everybody else. This is why we call it purging. It is the removal of association to something less savoury but not necessarily worse.
People always talk about being remembered. So they take it upon themselves to make sure it happens (or sometimes, other people do it for them), in suitably commemorative spirit, in spectacular pyrotechnical displays of written thought. What we don't celebrate is the art of making sure that people forget. If they don't, then we cannot re-create. And from re-creation a sea of new possibilities is birthed.
28 November 2008 @ 08:07 pm
life needs to be like this
and I'm this one here!
suddenly i feel a lot lighter :) unhappy things are missing people who don't even know you miss them because they think you're really missing someone else or that your eyes are on somebody else; and nausea; and taking medicine; and not being able to see stars at night; and the lack of colour. and happy things: making pop-up cards; thinking about people; pretending to be on a hot air balloon; pretending I have him (see below!)
meet Oskar the imaginary love of my life
i'm not a magpie I don't like hard shiny things I want the soft and real
someday i'm going to live on an island and play the ukelele. but tomorrow there are still things to do (i lost the entire stack of ___!! hello if you see this tomorrow so omgg i feel so dumb maybe nobody will ever see those german lampposts and staircases heehee but you know doing this is just fun it doesn't matter i'm not expecting anything really)
really.
and I'm this one here!
suddenly i feel a lot lighter :) unhappy things are missing people who don't even know you miss them because they think you're really missing someone else or that your eyes are on somebody else; and nausea; and taking medicine; and not being able to see stars at night; and the lack of colour. and happy things: making pop-up cards; thinking about people; pretending to be on a hot air balloon; pretending I have him (see below!)
meet Oskar the imaginary love of my life
i'm not a magpie I don't like hard shiny things I want the soft and real
someday i'm going to live on an island and play the ukelele. but tomorrow there are still things to do (i lost the entire stack of ___!! hello if you see this tomorrow so omgg i feel so dumb maybe nobody will ever see those german lampposts and staircases heehee but you know doing this is just fun it doesn't matter i'm not expecting anything really)
really.
07 November 2008 @ 10:58 pm
SHERYL KOH!!!!
HAVE FUN IN SURABAYA YOU SKINNY BITCH HAHAHAHA MISS YOU SEE YOU 9TH OF DECEMBER <3
HAVE FUN IN SURABAYA YOU SKINNY BITCH HAHAHAHA MISS YOU SEE YOU 9TH OF DECEMBER <3
22 April 2008 @ 05:59 pm
F-locked from now! The usual.
(Amandas here I only use blue font and Yina only uses the default)
(Amandas here I only use blue font and Yina only uses the default)