On writing? I suppose.
My favorite writers here write about their lives with this verbal agility that I know I also have, but is lost somewhere in the vapid state I need to sort of stay in to communicate with others day to day. My favorite writers here take photos of themselves, share moments in their lives with vivid description to the minutiae and great passion for small joys. It is still a great pleasure to come here and read what they are saying. I need to put myself into the practice again because I really think it made me quite self-aware. I was more self-aware at 16 because I was so absorbed in my writing. Once upon a time, my only social networking took place here, on this very site, and because it made it more challenging to put something stimulating on the internet then, I attracted only the best company. Or rather, we attracted one another.
Facebook, Twitter and this inundation of social networking, while admittedly fun, absolutely makes me forget that I am a writer, and that people that I have on Facebook are real writers, artists also. Social networking makes everyone look stupid. Which is why I cling to this Livejournal despite my inactivity. I have been bitching about this shit for the last year and a half in this journal. It's not that I don't have anything new to say. I'm just not apt to catch my ideas anymore, or savor small details, which is a shame and that is how I lose myself constantly.
The other night, I spoke via Skype with one of the few friends that managed to follow me over the years since my peak of activity and brilliance on Livejournal has come and past. It is kind of strange to type to one another on a screen after many years and then all of the sudden hear the voice that's behind those words... it's a real "what the fuck" kind of feeling. The last time he called me, I was 2 months into my college career, sitting under a dryer in a hair salon, in the process of dyeing my hair blue, the first in many fits of psychoticness. And so we only said hi and bye then. When I really get to talk to someone for the first time, I like to hear the way they pronounce certain words and I especially enjoy their laughter. (That said, if anyone has Skype, let me know and let's chat.) Giggled over some old MSN messenger logs he had years ago, shocked at how saucy I was as a kid - I guess some things never change. *shrug* Back then, I was the "kommandant" and that aspect of me is still very much "me" more than anything.
We talked a bit about how amazing it is that we still follow each other. It's been seven years now. I had a lot more brilliant writer-friends but somehow managed to lose most of them all, and when I try to hunt some of them down, there are no replies back despite the fact that they obviously still exist somewhere. I was also struck by our conversation because it only reinforced the fact that I don't have many real discussions/debates anymore, I don't talk with folks enough about the really deep, esoteric things that once floated around in my grey matter... things that aren't jobs or weekend plans but real ideas .. those scary abstract things that no one talks about anymore. My brain is about as fat as my ass.
I think I'm at a point of "critical mass" in my life, where I'm actually finished bitching about how unsatisfactory things are and slowly acting to my life as opposed to merely reacting to it. But that is some shit i've been repeating for a while too, so I don't know anymore. I am forever a shapeshifter and so I'm always in a state of flux. At least there is that. Let's see what comes out of it.
Lately, I blame my ouroboros for tripping out my life since I got it. But I think I can accept the good in being sent out spiraling.. it's better than sitting still stale.
Four years of my life are recorded on this site and that is kind of scary, but after many permutations and deletions of self, I know I'll thank myself later for leaving this all here. The good, the bad, the ugly. All of it.
Facebook, Twitter and this inundation of social networking, while admittedly fun, absolutely makes me forget that I am a writer, and that people that I have on Facebook are real writers, artists also. Social networking makes everyone look stupid. Which is why I cling to this Livejournal despite my inactivity. I have been bitching about this shit for the last year and a half in this journal. It's not that I don't have anything new to say. I'm just not apt to catch my ideas anymore, or savor small details, which is a shame and that is how I lose myself constantly.
The other night, I spoke via Skype with one of the few friends that managed to follow me over the years since my peak of activity and brilliance on Livejournal has come and past. It is kind of strange to type to one another on a screen after many years and then all of the sudden hear the voice that's behind those words... it's a real "what the fuck" kind of feeling. The last time he called me, I was 2 months into my college career, sitting under a dryer in a hair salon, in the process of dyeing my hair blue, the first in many fits of psychoticness. And so we only said hi and bye then. When I really get to talk to someone for the first time, I like to hear the way they pronounce certain words and I especially enjoy their laughter. (That said, if anyone has Skype, let me know and let's chat.) Giggled over some old MSN messenger logs he had years ago, shocked at how saucy I was as a kid - I guess some things never change. *shrug* Back then, I was the "kommandant" and that aspect of me is still very much "me" more than anything.
We talked a bit about how amazing it is that we still follow each other. It's been seven years now. I had a lot more brilliant writer-friends but somehow managed to lose most of them all, and when I try to hunt some of them down, there are no replies back despite the fact that they obviously still exist somewhere. I was also struck by our conversation because it only reinforced the fact that I don't have many real discussions/debates anymore, I don't talk with folks enough about the really deep, esoteric things that once floated around in my grey matter... things that aren't jobs or weekend plans but real ideas .. those scary abstract things that no one talks about anymore. My brain is about as fat as my ass.
I think I'm at a point of "critical mass" in my life, where I'm actually finished bitching about how unsatisfactory things are and slowly acting to my life as opposed to merely reacting to it. But that is some shit i've been repeating for a while too, so I don't know anymore. I am forever a shapeshifter and so I'm always in a state of flux. At least there is that. Let's see what comes out of it.
Lately, I blame my ouroboros for tripping out my life since I got it. But I think I can accept the good in being sent out spiraling.. it's better than sitting still stale.
Four years of my life are recorded on this site and that is kind of scary, but after many permutations and deletions of self, I know I'll thank myself later for leaving this all here. The good, the bad, the ugly. All of it.