Posted 2 years, 5 months ago late at night by oso
Today is Sunday. Today is New York Times, two cups of joe, and a bran muffin Sunday. Today it is 75 degrees. Last night it was 51 degrees. Global Warming is so inconsistent.
Today I am thinking about Twisire Kitamula. She is 2. She is from Northwest Malawi. And a photograph of her covers a third of page 14 of today’s NY Times. The story is about forced marriage in Sub-Saharan Africa. Twisire’s mother was 14 when she married her father, 58-years-old at the time. Twisire’s parents married because her mother’s father owed a cow and as Twisire’s mother says, “I was the sacrifice,” the one who settled the debt.
Like I said, Twisire is two. When she is 47 it will be 2050. Can you imagine how the world will be in 2050? I cannot. But I do imagine that Twisire will stil be attractive. Both of her parents have very attractive facial features, even her 63-year-old father.
It seems to me exceedingly likely that between now and 2050, Twisire will encounter Google, or probably something much more powerful. And like we all probably did the first time we heard about this funny-sounding search portal, she will enter her own name. And, I am sure, she will read her mother describe her parents’ marriage as a “sacrifice.” Maybe she will even arrive to this very post. It seems more likely than not.
That means two things to me. First, how fucking cool? I could, if I had anything more to say to Twisire, write a time-capsule-like letter to a two-year-old living in rural Malawi. Second, that these posts we write are much more meaningful and powerful than we realize when we write them (while we are full of boredom, sadness, anger, or caffeine). It has struck me recently that this blog is much more public than I had ever realized before. I’ve always imagined writing these posts to the 20 or so bloggers who occasionally comment as well as your odd visitor from Belarus, stumbling through a maze of hypertextual noise. But lately, I go to parties and I am introduced to people who already know me. Or offline friends who I never would have guessed stop by to read these silly cerebral fits, look knowingly when I mention something that I’ve already written on here. It’s all left me feeling a bit uncomfortable. Like I am speaking very loudly in a crowded, but quiet library. Which isn’t like me at all. Chris wrote that there are two types of people: those who read and those who write. It seems to me that the former are in the majority. But the irony is that in real life I am the listener and not the talker. So much so that my good friends tell me to stop interviewing them and to stop avoiding all conversation about myself.
It just so happens I am not gifted at the art of gab. When I get in arguments with friends, which luckily is rare, I always find myself writing them letters instead of talking it out. The art of sincere conversation has never been mine. In fact, the only time I ever have a personality conflict with anyone is if the other person takes him/herself seriously in everything (s)he says. I cannot articulate my thoughts, not as I want them to come out. So I resort to irony, sarcasm, and total absurdity. No one takes me serious when I speak, certainly not myself, which is why the written word is a special refuge for me. My cave of sincerity. The idea I guess, the idea of this blog, was to open that up. But all of a sudden it has me feeling vulnerable. Uneasy. And unsure.
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You couldn’t be so right, Os. I’ve been feeling this way for a while now and at first my posts, those candid things I say, I would never say them out loud. At least not before I started my weblog. So, it’s a two-edged sword, to open up your mind and your life so much to someone. In fact, there’s this great song by Jason Anderson (K Records, dude) where he sings:
And I often feel this way, guilty, that I have force feeds my words to the bloggers, avid readers or the uninitiated. I think to myself, ‘Why did I tell them this? Why should they know this about me?’
But once again it’s a two edged sword. I feel lonely without doing so. Before my weblog, I didn’t have anyone that said, “Holy crap, I’m going through this too.” or “I understand” or “I’ve been in this situation…” I didn’t have those people. So, where I feel a close kinship to you and a small handful of bloggeros, I also fear I’ll recoil from all of you because of that fear.
I’ve been in random public places where people tell me that they’ve read my stuff. But where the blog (and it’s readers) will share their thoughts, these people don’t share what they think. What they think of me or my words or my situations. It’s scary to think that people know you just out of the words on your blog.
I feel I know a lot about you, Os, but I don’t think I know the real you. Will I ever know the real you? I don’t think so…and this is sad too. It’s like having a good friend in a glass box. You can see them, probably communicate with them but you can’t touch them, feel them or be around them.
We build a digital identity which is only a fragment of who we are, a slight glimpse at either out true selves that will never show itself in public or an alter ego that does the same. Is this wrong to mislead each other this way?
You have fallen to this same predicament in a comment you made on my flickr photo of my friend Joel. In that image you wrote:
And although, I wasn’t offended, it struck me as interesting to think that you and many other bloggers have read the words I attach to my friends–my own personification of them–and labeled them (perhaps, without noticing) as “characters.” Are we all characters then? Is your blog, like mine, only a way to become syndicated online stars?
I may be the minority, but after meeting you I am more interested in who you are offline than what you write in your blog. It may seem that you are making yourself vulnerable by posting your thoughts on the internet, but our true selves are revealed in the connections we have with individuals and not the collective, I believe. You know what you are writing will be seen by many and for that reason you may not share what you would with someone one on one. I certainly would not.
Oso, the day I met you I sensed that “the Force is strong in you”. You have a gift, my friend. There’s something about the way you write that makes the reader want to read the whole article. Perhaps you write too well.
I don’t know why, but sometimes it took a lot of effort for me to open up through my blog… too bad my previous blog was obliterated, but I think I did manage to write some insightful posts.
Only once did it happen that an offline friend already knew my POV on a certain subject, but I did feel a bit disappointed that she hadn’t left some sort of small comment, or at least a smiley in the chatterbox.
Then again, as I’ve spent quite some time being a reader and not a writer,… sometimes you just can’t think of something smart enough to point out… It would even seem offtopic to say “I think likewise. Ok, thanks, bye”.
As I was saying, you write really well. If you don’t leave any weak point open then passers-by don’t feel encouraged to debate about anything, since they’re not betterer debaters (sic) than the next guy.
I just came up with an interesting idea. It could actually be integrated into del.icio.us or digg. People could notify you by hitting a ‘Passback’ bookmarklet when they passed or visited a certain post on your domain. It would be a way of making visitors less anonymous, voluntarily. The service itself could be called “Social Tracking” or “Social Crumbles”… I think it’d give you a better insight on who visits you, rather than the systems specifications or the place from where the visitor is from.
Well Oso, I hope you don’t feel too scrutinized, but your posts have always been easy to point out from the crowd because they are insightful. EMC is right on the kinship matter.
Oh, on the other hand, I got an email some weeks ago from a Blogger. She told me she liked how I wrote, and that she would like to meet me. We met. It turned out she’s at ITESM too. She’s a great person, and now a good friend. I really was amazed by the amount of courage she has by writing to a completely “unknown” person. You can say I’ve had good and not-so-good experiences because of blogging, but I really think I’m way better off by doing so.
Oso,
One of my best friends told me a few years ago that I should stick to writing because when I speak the words come out all wrong. She has a very valid point. My words tend to get me in trouble, and it’s almost always the spoken word. The guy I’m seeing has lately been calling me mean and I don’t even realize I’m being mean and not just being sarcastic.
I’m like you. I find it really difficult to have tough discussions in person or while speaking to each other. I’ve done all kinds of things through letters because I’m more honest and less mean when I write. I say what I really mean. Anyway, I’m working on one of those letters right now. I’m way too scared to pick up the phone.
Wait, people read this? Oh man, no wonder I’ve been getting funny looks at parties these days.
I am definitely a “lurker” of the web community - there are lots of places that I frequent for information and entertainment and I rarely, if ever, feel the need to make my presence known. Some newspapers now have “Comment on this Article” sections, and without fail every time I read them I feel that I have wasted a substantial amount of brain energy on worthlessness, and am amazed at the kinds of people who feel that they have something to add to a subject. This site and a few others being the exception, the anonymous nature of the web is simply not conducive to constructive conversation. This, I think, partly explains why many people don’t bother commenting.
But about the substance of your post, you’re certainly right about yourself. Actually, I used to be offended when we would be traveling and you would go to a coffee shop to write for hours. For me the experience was most important, not necessarily the feelings or thoughts it inspired, and I would think, “why the hell be writing when you can be doing!” And yeah, you do have a tendency to interview people when you talk to them. You also manage to get people to say things that they probably didn’t even realize about themselves until you asked them, and that comes only from someone who has spent a large part of their life introspecting [my word]. So if there actually are “people” that “read” this blog then it’s obviously because there is something they relate to (it’s certainly not my law school jabber) so you better not let the pressure get to you. Besides, there’s like a growing trend of bloggers getting book deals.
Cindy - letters have their pros and cons. they tend to be calculated which makes them devoid of passion. Hence, great for breakups and writing grandma, but terrible for getting together.
You are a talented writer. And you’re one of the reasons why I keep coming back to weblogs because of the way you write. You keep it interesting, your insight is very charasmatic and intriguing. It’s like I’ve said before, you’re allowing us into your brain where, as you have stated, you normally don’t do so in person, one on one while having an argument or conversation. I’d love to have a long as conversation with you, but from the last time we talked (or rather, I talked, you listened), you immediately become the active listener.
If it’s one thing I’ve learned from blogging is that writing about my life, I begin to discover more about myself that tends to remain in a subconscious and by putting it out there and having people respond, I become more confident. Just a year ago, I wasn’t even calling myself a writer. I got a degree in writing and I can write myself to death (look at me go…), but I was ashamed to even think I was one.
Now, that’s how I introduce myself when I’m asked what I do. I’m a computer geek, second.
I sure as hell know you ain’t shy (just look at your flickr photos) or socially inept, but perhaps, you should try to be more active when talking. You’re probably like my fiancee, who tends to do the exact same thing: she sets herself as the listener because “she has nothing interesting to say.” Since we’ve been together—going on five years—she’s opened up more and has voiced her opinions. It’s like we’ve grown into our own together. My weblog has been that springboard for me, on the personal level.
So, as the weblog is a two edged sword, that pro side of the sword, allows one to grow confidently. I would expect you to be much bolder, like you appear in your photos…and your long time bud, Abo, definately has you pegged, Mr. Introspective. I’m the exact same way.
However, one thing I have learned as a writer is to refrain from trying to capture the moment as it is…which means I’ve stopped myself from immediately running home and writing about my experiences, and allowing them to gel in my cabeza for a while. This allows me to fluidly expand on my thoughts and descriptions. You’ll be amazed how much you recall in a much richer light when you experience and let it gel than if you ran straight home to write.
Even then, as I say this I have a hard time. I understand where Abo comes from feeling offended for having you leave when you’re experiencing stuff together. My fiancee, is thinks in that similar light. But as writers, chroniclers, observers…it’s in our nature. My suggestion is to find a good medium.
Mira, here I go again, yapping, writing away…chingao.
Meaningful comments, thank you.
EMC,
I agree with everything you say, though I won’t wallow in any kind of “shame on me for opening up” self-sympathy. Writing in a public space was and is my own decision and it is, in fact, flattering that people stop by and take the time to read.
In a way, it’s strange that I’m writing this response right now to you in a public space. It would make sense just to email you. Why the need to share it with a larger audience?
J-wo,
I guess that was what I was trying to get at. That until recently I thought this weblog was read by fewer people. Or at least, more “abstract” people that weren’t part of my daily life. Now I find myself wanting to write about other topics, less personal.
Rolando,
Thanks for the kind words. I hadn’t realized you’ve started writing again so I was elated to come across the “new” blog. I really like your passback idea, a friendly kiss on the side of the cheek when you don’t have the time to stop and have a full conversation.
Also, I do see what you’re saying about not commenting on the posts that resonate with you. I rarely comment on three of my favorite weblogs - RConversation, WorldChanging, and Updates - because I so rarely have anything to add.
And finally, word on blogging having its pros and its cons, but I think the former definitely win out for exactly the reason you said: the people you meet.
Cindylu,
I think that Abo is right. Even though writing a letter is easier for you and me, a phone call is more fair, more honest, and more meaningful for the majority. We like the written word because we can be so exact, precise, clever, detached and thought out without interruption, but it’s also a safe way to hide from our friends’ deserving emotions. It’s something I’ve been working on for a long time and still suck at.
Abo,
The funny looks at the parties stem from your wardrobe. I have been pleading with AnneMack for some time to help you with this.
Joking aside, I can say that by now you probably know me better than anyone else out there. Which is why, I must unfortunately ban you from any further commenting or writing on this weblog.
Ok really, no jokes, what you say is true. And it also points out that there is an odd and counterintuitive comfort in writing personal things in incredibly public (and deceptively “anonymous”) spaces. It’s much easier to write - in thematic context - that my journal bouts on our trips were offensive than to ask me what the hell I was doing at the time. And it’s even better-recieved (in hindsight, what the hell was I doing? merely distracting us from our larger life-objective of learning how to say “cheers” in every language). Meanwhile, I am working on the interviewer tendency. Curiosity killed the cat.
EMC,
I am trying to be more active when talking. You may not have noticed, but during our last phone conversation, I was doing jumping jacks.
Sometimes non-bloggers ask me what this little fad of blogging will actually amount to when looked back on 20 years from now. There view, obviously is that weblogs are the technological equivalent to slap bracelets ($1.39 what a deal!) I play along with their little theory. But even so, I tell them that what we have created - for the first time ever - is a fully accessible, searchable, sedimentary slice of the collective unconscious. How unfathomably badass to be a historian 200 years down the road and take a broad survey of what our generation felt about not just political giants and major events, but also privacy, Nietzche, and anal bleaching.
Hmmm, these comments have gotten very interesting. Os, I agree that this is something different and it’s not a fad. I can look back at the things i was writing and focusing on in my journals from years ago and see not just how much i’ve grown, learned, etc., but also it’s part of my history. Those journals have been personal and no one have read them and I’m notorious for eating my writings. I’ve even thrown my words away to get rid of them.
I think weblogs are there and will/can remain there for us to see who we were a few years ago. I still want to go back into Cindy’s archives and read more about her thoughts four years ago. My weblog is a guercito compared to hers, what a pioneer she is.
But amigoso, I ask you this: why should we refrain from being candid in our blogs? What do we lose if we disclose our true selves? Aren’t we decieving our readers and who we really are. So, this brings up this question: what are blogs and reading blogs for? Entertainment? Education? or to grow as human beings. Aren’t you cutting yourself short for censoring your thoughts, opinions, and words?
And here comes an icky questions that even I’m wondering why I will ask you this: Why don’t you want to share it with us?
Damnit, everytime I read your blog all these marred ideas of Literary Criticism spring to mind—I need to find my notes on this and somehow compare how lit crit and canons and ideas are applied to the blogeroesphere.
**I promise this will be my last long ass comment**
Oso,
I’ve decided that I’m not going to send the letter, but I am going to try and schedule a time to talk about this conflict. A cold call out of the blue after three months just doesn’t seem like a good idea. I’m thinking I’d like some kind of warning. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Abogado,
I know there’s a lot I hide from when I choose to write, but really you’ve never tried to talk to me in the middle of a conflict. Either I shut down and you have to pry the words out of my mouth — which can take a long ass time — or I get vicious and spew out all the hateful things I’ve thought about you. Neither one seems good, and it’s hard for me to find the happy medium.
EMC,
I agree with you. I think introspective self-analysis is a healthy thing. I think being upfront with one’s faults in public is also healthy. And I do think we are helping each other grow. So when you ask why I wouldn’t want to share certain things in public, there are two reasons. First, a lot of my own personal reflection involves other people and it’s not fair of me to make their lives public for all (even though I do exactly that at times and have angered some friends because of it). There is, for example, a post about my relationship with my mother that has a few months sitting on my dashboard that will probably never get published out of respect for her privacy.
The second reason is that I know myself well enough to realize that if I start critiquing myself at length in public and others don’t do the same then I’ll end up creeping back into my shell. So it’s a balance really.
Cindylu,
I wish you the best. I think you did make the right decision re: the letter.
[...] I considered writing a letter, but discarded that idea. I completely agreed with Oso in his explanation of why he believed he was not blessed with the art of gab It just so happens I am not gifted at the art of gab. When I get in arguments with friends, which luckily is rare, I always find myself writing them letters instead of talking it out. The art of sincere conversation has never been mine… I cannot articulate my thoughts, not as I want them to come out. So I resort to irony, sarcasm, and total absurdity. No one takes me serious when I speak, certainly not myself, which is why the written word is a special refuge for me. My cave of sincerity. [...]
stop whisperin’..
start SHOUTING!