...and when did it become so difficult for me to even sit down and write words, for that matter?
True, I'm at the Green Hills library. I had no intention of writing words and sentences, but here I sit. Doing it. Giving this life its life. I purged last night...of social media apps. I've not ventured onto any site, where others are sitting back, observing, and judging. Question: what's worse than being judged?
Answer: Not being judged. Not being acknowledged by anyone. Irrelevancy.
This becomes our culture. Our lives are at stake for attention from strangers. And that's a terrifying prospect. Our lives being lived through the lives of others who neither truly know nor truly care for us.
Anyway. It's a temporary boycott. A "cleanse" of this culture of squinting eyes and stolen glances. So, I'm using this basically anonymous blog as an outlet for a small but strong voice. Not many still check up or write on theirs. Xanga's become a piece of history and memory, erased from the boundless blackboard of the Internet. It feels good writing to no one, for a change. There's no audience or special person to impress, or scene to create or filter to brighten or shade.
Now. On to my favorite topic: myself.
I think I'm going to really enjoy my new job. It's fun and thought-provoking and confusing and interactive, with a vigorous combination of teamwork, clinical skills, and argument. I love it so far. Though the cumbersome part has yet to begin- the files and files of paperwork. The pre-cert rejections that are fated upon me. Bad days will be. I hope I accept them with patience and hope for better tomorrows.
Gnight all my wanderers. Love.
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