"25 Random Things About Me"
There has been this immensely popular 'tag'/meme going around on FB, '25 Random Things About Me' - people list what they believe to be unique traits and quirks about themselves. After a few instances of getting tagged to write one up myself, I just feel something along the lines of 'meh', which is surprising, because I used to be one of those who'd sign up first on anything that required expounding upon oneself.
Firstly, I didn't think all of my 950-odd friends/acquaintances/people I just about know needed to know 25 random things about me - it's bad enough that they have to suffer my inane, mundane status updates, and to foist upon them this too? Naah. Also, since not all of these people are exactly 'close' friends, I would have to write this out with the lowest common denominator in mind, which would make for a boring read indeed - because these would be 25 really random shite that signifies nothing of personal quality in them (I like this colour, I used to live here/there, I am afraid of... - who cares, really). For instance, I would write about my absolute intolerance for those who like to assume higher moral ground for being vegetarian and/or infringing on my right to eat meat. Or I would write about how I can be infinitely finicky about dish-washing, I'd rather you leave it unwashed for me to take care of them, unless you can scrub it squeaky clean and wash the undersides too. But really, who cares, unless you live with me and wash dishes in my kitchen or you impose your vegetarianism on me, and if so, you'd already know this and the entire FB exercise is pointless, no?
For those who care, there's this blog, which I write for my own record and for which I don't expect to have an audience (which is why I'm always surprised to find out that people do read this!). Moreover, reading more and more of these '25 Things' about people I know has only strengthened this feeling I've been having lately that the world is full of supremely uninteresting people, self-involved in their own little universes, where each one gets to be the hero/heroine of their respective life story while chasing their own set of mediocre life goals. And then it saddens me to realize, yet again, that I am one of them too, a supremely uninteresting, unaccomplished blob on the face of the earth, yet another stat in the billions who have come and the many more to come, having done nothing that will change the course of humanity in many manner, whatsoever. Facebook, photographs, personal memoirs, blogs - these are just manifestations of the famous line, "You are unique and special, just like everyone else."
Finally, whenever I did think of getting down to write it out (and to stop taking everything so seriously), I could not get myself to do it. Recently, I've been watching a lot of biopics and I'm in the process of picking up a bunch of biographies of historical personalities I admire. Increasingly, I am of the conviction that all of this writing out of trivia about oneself is meaningless in the long run - what matters more is what people write of you and make of you, after your time. It all eventually boils down to the struggle to leave a legacy, to make a dent, an indelible mark on the time-line of human advancement - doesn't it?
Is this a precursor to winding down this blog? To making less public my private ruminations? Is it even possible that a certain unthinkable might happen - Sherene choosing to fall off her fairly-public grid? Who knows. But I certainly hope it's a precursor to the fabulous, meaningful life I always thought my future held.
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It's amazing, the transformation from a person who found everybody so fascinating and saw every random person as a possibility for new discoveries, new memories and new friendships, to this people-loathing, contemptuous new me.
I miss the old me, sometimes =/
Firstly, I didn't think all of my 950-odd friends/acquaintances/people I just about know needed to know 25 random things about me - it's bad enough that they have to suffer my inane, mundane status updates, and to foist upon them this too? Naah. Also, since not all of these people are exactly 'close' friends, I would have to write this out with the lowest common denominator in mind, which would make for a boring read indeed - because these would be 25 really random shite that signifies nothing of personal quality in them (I like this colour, I used to live here/there, I am afraid of... - who cares, really). For instance, I would write about my absolute intolerance for those who like to assume higher moral ground for being vegetarian and/or infringing on my right to eat meat. Or I would write about how I can be infinitely finicky about dish-washing, I'd rather you leave it unwashed for me to take care of them, unless you can scrub it squeaky clean and wash the undersides too. But really, who cares, unless you live with me and wash dishes in my kitchen or you impose your vegetarianism on me, and if so, you'd already know this and the entire FB exercise is pointless, no?
For those who care, there's this blog, which I write for my own record and for which I don't expect to have an audience (which is why I'm always surprised to find out that people do read this!). Moreover, reading more and more of these '25 Things' about people I know has only strengthened this feeling I've been having lately that the world is full of supremely uninteresting people, self-involved in their own little universes, where each one gets to be the hero/heroine of their respective life story while chasing their own set of mediocre life goals. And then it saddens me to realize, yet again, that I am one of them too, a supremely uninteresting, unaccomplished blob on the face of the earth, yet another stat in the billions who have come and the many more to come, having done nothing that will change the course of humanity in many manner, whatsoever. Facebook, photographs, personal memoirs, blogs - these are just manifestations of the famous line, "You are unique and special, just like everyone else."
Finally, whenever I did think of getting down to write it out (and to stop taking everything so seriously), I could not get myself to do it. Recently, I've been watching a lot of biopics and I'm in the process of picking up a bunch of biographies of historical personalities I admire. Increasingly, I am of the conviction that all of this writing out of trivia about oneself is meaningless in the long run - what matters more is what people write of you and make of you, after your time. It all eventually boils down to the struggle to leave a legacy, to make a dent, an indelible mark on the time-line of human advancement - doesn't it?
Is this a precursor to winding down this blog? To making less public my private ruminations? Is it even possible that a certain unthinkable might happen - Sherene choosing to fall off her fairly-public grid? Who knows. But I certainly hope it's a precursor to the fabulous, meaningful life I always thought my future held.
-----
It's amazing, the transformation from a person who found everybody so fascinating and saw every random person as a possibility for new discoveries, new memories and new friendships, to this people-loathing, contemptuous new me.
I miss the old me, sometimes =/