So much has happened in this time.At some point I moved over to Wordpress because supposedly it was a better place for SEO and where the professionals shared their thoughts. It's true enough, maybe. But I vaguely remember the start of this blog, and I think I miss those fragments of me that I lose along the way as I made my way through, what would traspire to be, a very uncomfortable series of events. Ranging from a little hearbreak at the start of the blog, to being stalked, to moving to London, to meeting my man, to losing my identity and to this day mourn the holes it left in my life.
I miss doing things for the love of doing. Not for the accolade or potential gains. I miss just being myself in a goofy way. In a less overstimulating space than Instagram and Tiktok, which, don't get me wrong: I love. I have trained my algorithm to accept my multidimensionality, and from time to time take stock of the limitations of Algorithms, yes even in 2023. They aren't all they claim to be. Or maybe I am too complex. But my bet is that algorithms are made to please our latest whims of fancy, they don't truly know us. I did think they would by now but when I am shown a Temu advert, I know: The algorithm hasn't got a clue who I am, at least it hasn't yet understood my values. Or perhaps it is an attempt to train ME. I am not that easily influences.
But I CAN be influenced, but it should be a bit more impressive than cheap, slave labour made plastic goods.
Tangents.
I am a connoisseur of tangents. An expert at getting lost and finding my way back. But you know what happened since I started my love affair with technology and the internet? People have lost their ability to bear with a conversation with a rabbit warren of tangents. I have considered if I have become boring, I do always suspect myself to be at fault before making blanket assumptions about the state of humanity. But it is true, at least for America: People here can't pause.
I attribute this to generational individualism coupled with the very harsh reality of a society that seems to be largely based on a dog-eat-dog system. Survival of those who can assert themselves in a culturally aligned way.
That's not me.
I am sincerely unaligned with the ways of this Wild West idolising country.
I am growing tired of the overbearingness of capitalism on stroids. Don't get me wrong, I am not a fan of the extreme polar opposite ether. I don't see a reason that we can't hold onto personal ethics and align society with some values that incorporate NOT leaving human beings rotting to death on the streets. It's really not that hard. But America seems to take a dirty pleasure in other's fallingf rom grace. Like it affirms something in their own struggles. American's, as a collective, don't seem to see value in helping the underdog up into the boat that we can then paddle with more rowing-power together...
I know, who am I? I am just some fool with opinions and having an opinion publicly makes one rather vulnerable. My opinions are not based on deep research reading. They are ad hoc, based on lived experience, anecdotal if you will. And anecdotal evidence has a bad rep for not meeting measurable guidelines. Sure. But still: American's don't want those in pain to receive help, to grant that help would somehow threaten a machiavellian view of the world, a religion of self reliance.
That reminds me of something I listened to, about how views and treatment of 'the poor' has changed through the centuries. The way 'the poor' were perceived and treated aligned closely with what version of religion was in vogue at the time.
Benevolence woudl gain heavenly credits, at other times, suffering would gain heavenly credits and it was best to leave those in pain to steep in it than to interfer with benevolence and compassion. I would have to spend some hours digging out my reference for this. But I also think that THIS would make a fantastic subject to incorporate in a resurgence of my creative practice.
Not that anyone would take the blindest bit of notice, nor do I have funds or space to be creative anymore.
My art soul has withered, I thought it was extinguished but it turns out, the more I regain my strength after a decade of serious trials by fire, (how poignant): the more I recover the more I realise that my creative soul might perhaps have some embers still. There is a chance we could reignite it with a breeze of favourable conditions.
Blogger
Blogger in 2023 is probably a ridiculous space to place my thoughts. But I am sorry that I ever abandoned it in favour of a more professional appearance on Wordpress. I never needed any of that. I gained me nothing (as far as I am aware0 but cost me hundred's of hours polishing my tech skills and my SEO and this and that and links and tabs. I do love Wordpress, but not in a personal way. Blogger is my old apartment with the impractical gasheater and the draughty wooden floorboards, the high ceilings and the huge windows that required a Theatre curtain to tame the cold that would barely be held back by those old British-impractical, single pane, sash windows.
I sold my soul to trying to be professional. 17 years later I would recommend: DON'T even try. Everything is an exercise in the emperor's new clothes and we fell for it.
(I know, I know, I really know, that this is releative. If you have a product to sell of course you want a website with customisability and all the nice layout options. You do. I know. I am THE nerd, possibly the biggest one you know. But it is important to not forget who we are besides the human who has to, wants to, desires to create a fancy website for their career / for the part of us that live in a capitalist society and needs to / wants to fit in. But NOT all of us is that.
My beautiful, impractical old home, was in a draughty old house. But it was also cozy and personal and Blogger is that: it's an old friend, a place I feel safe and welcome and it's just for me and you, and very few others. Because hardly anyone will ever visit here. Just like my old home: Twice a year I would hold a soiree and 20-30 friends, acquaintances and mysterious strangers would appear. We would share my space, would have a fabulous time. They would go home, I would be alone in my cozy, draughty home, and occasionally a friend or acquaintance would drop by. Just like here. You drop by, occasionally. When you find a moment to step away from the ever faster spinning hanster wheels of life.
You'd stop by for a meandering chat, for no other reason other than to be a human together with another human. Don't lose that.
Not everything is about money, Not everything is about self-betterment. You don't have to optimise all the time. Make some time yours. If time is too measured the magic and wonder of life have no space to exist.
Remember Momo and the grey men? No? Momo by Michael Ende. I have no idea how well the book really holds up so many years after it's first being published. But the essential story is of grey men taking time and happy people claiming it back. Something like that. It's a kid's book. It's more complex than my 1 sentence summary. Try it and see what you think.
The core message is: YES life is friggin' hard and getting harder by the day. But if we don't remember to stop and live, if we forget how to 'waste' time in the right ways: then life isn't much like living at all.
Wasting time in the right way or the wrong way. I could probably write another epic stream of thoughts on this. I won't. It's late and really I just wanted to stop by and say:
Life is a lot and sometimes I feel like I made a very big mess of it. But I am here. Embers of life are still glimmering and maybe getting lost is part of the journey.
Wherever you are, old friend, new friend, acquaintance from another time :
hi.
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| an old picture of me, 2017 how fast time passed since then & how slow... time.. |
(Not edited, not spellchecked. I can live with the messiness of spontaneity.)
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