Some Writing Should Not Be Read

Some writing should not be read. That's a pretty forward statement for a writer to make. It is also a conclusion that comes weighted with much thought and second guesses. For, after all, aren't all writers on a journey? Each travelling a path which, although similar in some ways, is very different in others? The struggle is similar; the struggle is subjective; the struggle is real.

Given the uniqueness of the journey, and the fact that each of us faces the next step for the first time, our readers understand that we are prone to errors. We don't always strike the right note. And, if it's one thing that every writer comes to find out, it is this: Words are powerful beings. They take on a life of their own. They cut; they heal; they hurt; they mend; they build; they destroy. And when you think you're finally over them, a familiar scent can bring memories of words spoken - and how - rushing back, unheralded and unhindered. There will be blood. Yes, things will sometimes get real messy up in here.

But, while we understand the limitations and ramifications of words uttered and media used, we do not have to subject ourselves to crap. And I'm not talking about the saying, "Bad writing is contagious." I don't know about you, but I have to be careful about what I take into my system.Things have a way of...lingering, for better or for worse. So, if I simply get wind that a piece of writing is crap (not crappy - I trust you to infer the difference), I stay away from it.

To me, writing that puts some persons up only by putting others down; that makes a person question their value and self-worth and feel they're sorely lacking; that reinforces the notion that one group is better than another, is not the kind of writing that should be fed upon. It gets into the psyche and...and does things - ugly things. Quite simply, it may leave someone feeling that they are not good enough; that the quality of life they heretofore enjoyed is, all of a sudden, not up to par. I've written before about people making different choices and doing what makes them happy - Squeezing Life Out of Life. What they do and how they define success and perfection will very often not be the same as someone else's. One of my grandmothers used to say, "Everybody pot nuh boil at the same time." We will not all get what we desire at the same time. As a matter of fact, given our differences as...oooh, I dunno, human beings? We do not all have the same ingredients cooking in our pots. And, to boot, it bears recalling that tastes do differ. Imagine yourself coming to my house and telling me that the delicious spread I've spent all day preparing is not...'ow you saaay? (French accent) ideal, because it does not resemble my neighbour's? The struggle is real for everybody. And, if the struggle is subjective, then, so too, is the definition of success.

What really saddens me is there are those with much influence - well, if you can call it that, in a small pond where the little fish thinks he's a shark - who are looked upon as thought leaders. (A moment of silence as we let that sink in.) It is neither fair, nor right, for young minds to be subjected to, and shaped by, writers and spewers of ideas who translate and transfer their insecurities into words on a page to be consumed as truth by the malleable. Ideas that feed divisiveness; that drive a wedge between haves and have-nots; that cause young minds and hearts to feel they've failed even before they've begun, and slap the cheeks of unsung heroes, are unwelcome 'round these parts.

When it comes right down to it, are we too busy brown-nosing, or trying to be validated by someone, or serving the Kingdom of Me - population One? Or are we performing the random acts of kindness, or helping someone who can't repay us, or hugging a child, or stopping to smell the roses...? You know, like gems we love to post in our Social Media fiefdoms.

Sigh. We don't always get it right. But, I really believe it is important to try to make a positive difference. Like that quote by Woodrow Wilson says, "We are not here merely to make a living, but to enrich the world with a finer spirit of hope and achievement and we impoverish ourselves if we forget the errand."



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

"We Shape Our Tools And Then Our Tools Shape Us."

"We shape our tools and then our tools shape us."
- Marshall McLuhan


Funny thing, how humans are. I like watching how the tools people shape, in turn shape them. The how and how fast they...we...are reshaped by the trappings, incisions and sculptings of our own instruments and devices. It's organic. It's fascinating. Correction: I love watching it.

Sometimes the reshaping unfolds with such organic poetry in motion, drawing us in with stealth and charm, we don't see it coming and, too soon, we can't look away. It's not always poetic, however. And, I imagine, that'd depend on the kind of poetry you're into. It's not always in motion - I'm thinking rhythmic. But, it is always organic.

Our new tools shape us and compel us to take on new norms. And, especially when these tools are tools of communication, and space abounds to interact with other humans, the new norms and unwritten rules grow quickly.

The premise upon which these norms and rules are built is simple - simple and strong and timeless. They are borne of, and rely on, the distinctiveness and predictability of the human condition. We need to belong; to be a part of something or someone. We need to feel we matter. We need to know that what we do has value - and so on.

Enter, Social Media. Specifically, those spaces that give users opportunities to vote/like/fav others' posts/images and what not. I imagine that's, like, all of them, right? I'm here, and on Twitter. Two platforms. That's about as much input from folks in cyberspace I choose to allow in my sphere. I've popped over to Instagram to check out pics when a few tweeps share an IG link - and I care. I'm no longer on FB - too psychologically demanding. (We've talked about that, yes?) Even comment sections in online newspapers allow readers to rate the quality/value of their fellow readers' thoughts. At every turn, if you wish to express an opinion or share a thought, you may expect to be rated/judged/marked.

Some rely on this. Some - it would seem - live for the sort of adulation showered upon them in these open spaces. The struggle for validation is real. It is such a waste of the person one is, but, it does happen.

What fascinates me, though, is that the rules are made up and applied as we go along - and how. We start using the tool and we institute our own rules - unknown to anyone else - regarding how we're going to "do this thing." Soon, as interactions and fans/friends/followers multiply; as we note their own rules and interact accordingly, something begins to happen. A general consensus and understanding begins to take shape about how we interact and why we now interact the way we do. A quick example is the fav/star button on Twitter. In the beginning, it was used primarily for that. You hit the star if the tweet was a favorite. Over time, people began to fav tweets for many reasons. I now do it for three reasons: I want to read it later. (It's easier to find in your favs than to go hunting it down in your tweep's, or, worse, some stranger's timeline.) I want to acknowledge someone who's mentioned/tagged me, but I don't want to have a convo. I want to end a convo with a tweep but without words. So, again with the acknowledgement bit. Oh, four. I actually like the tweet. Heh heh.

Look, there's no Twitter commandment that says thou shalt not steal tweets. Yet, people copy others' tweets and tweet them as if they were their own all the time. And if someone repeatedly does that, persons will not like it and they are likely to unfollow or block that user. Why? For the same reason you'd not want to associate with a thief, or someone who plagiarizes, in real life. It may be an online space, but associations and interactions are real and moving - for the most part. The bots and spammers get no love whatsoever. We get in. We pick up on little cues and norms. We figure out what's what, perhaps with some guidance along the way. Pretty soon, we find our comfort zone in how we want to "do this thing." Who people are in real life is what they come to the online space with if they are genuine in their interactions. Just give 'em time. It'll all come out in the wash. That's why the norms are so easily established. And the new norms - unique to that particular online space - arise partly because "the medium is the message" (McLuhan) and also because...humans.

What's also interesting is how some folks, over time, move away from their, well, their "original persona" as followers and such, grow. After all, one is now popular and has influence. Some go the route of commenting in a more, 'ow you saay, responsible manner. Others, not so much. It is true that these spaces can and do entice us to assume a different persona from the one we started out with, especially when we're chasing popularity. Who's to say which are the true colors?

I just recalled a lil quote by President George "Dubya" Bush during an interview after he'd left the presidency: "If you chase popularity, you're chasing a moment. You're chasing a poof of air." Thought I'd share it. You're welcome. :-)


The Quiet Zone
Several months ago, GO Transit introduced the Quiet Zone on the top floor of every coach of all their trains during rush hour. Now, prior to this designated Quiet Zone, any car of most GO trains were near deathly quiet. Well, I understand there was one line that had folks talking loudly in the evenings. Looks like people complained. GO did a pilot project with that particular line. And the rest is what we have here.

Before the Quiet Zone, on the Lakeshore West in the mornings - and evenings, come to think of it - you could hear a pin drop. There was the occasional conversation but these were few and far between and in hushed tones. The majority of commuters were plugged in or reading or catching a snooze.

Then came the Quiet Zone. Signs went up. The Customer Service Ambassadors (CSA) included it in their welcome announcements. All was mostly well with the world. That is, until a newbie or two, oblivious to the signs and announcements, would start talking. I'd sit in amusement as I watched other passengers squirm or give the person the look. As a matter of fact, I've even seen folks who could no longer contain their angst triggered by someone having a quiet phone conversation, get up from their seat, or turn around in their seat, and direct the talker's attention to the sign. Or, say to the transgressor, "This is the Quiet Zone, you can't be talking on the phone." Yeah. That happened.

Fact is, the sign in the QZ says short telephone conversations are okay; use your ear piece to listen to music and make sure it's not loud enough for anyone else to hear. That sort of thing. But, you know, now we have become accustomed to the Zone being deathly quiet. The least bit of interruption of the silence, and folks will get up and leave the Zone. I kid you not. I have seen that happen, too.

GO Transit created the Quiet Zone tool for the comfort of passengers, when most of the passengers were already comfortable and accommodating of a bit of ambient noise. Now, passengers have been programmed to expect Bose headphones quiet and many are now easily irritated when they hear a pin drop.

Because...humans.



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

SoMe Pressure

Does it feel like your attention span is waning these days? Like, it's becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with news coverage of not just the local, anymore, but the global? And, every minute of the day is prime time? And, does it feel like, because people are now interacting with and listening to you, you have to post smarter/achieve more? If you've answered yes to these questions, know that you are not alone. That may or may not be comforting.

There is a constant, nay, continuous demand for our attention from one source or another. I need not go on about the plethora of these sources - online and offline. What I would like to focus on a bit is that demand from Social Media. (Of course, this only works if you do, in fact, use at least one SoMe tool.) And, the attention-grabbing is one thing. But, look at what eats up your attention. It may be something that is of little interest to you, but you still spend a little time to read it or listen to it - just because it's there. Those subjects that are of much interest to you? Those are the blood suckers. And, there's a very real pressure that comes with participating in these media on matters that are of high interest. Most people like to play cool and invincible. Yeeeaah. I gave that up - the little that I had of it - a long time ago. Now, I'm just the perfect human being - flawed, blessed and highly flavoured. Chocolat.

I realized recently, as I scrolled though my Twitter timeline, I was beginning to feel "a way." (That's a legit Jamaican description of feeling deeply offended/shunned/disregarded... Context matters to the definition.) I have been writing for a while and have made the distinction between a writer and a published writer. But, man. Reading about some of the achievements of those who've had their works published, started to make me feel like a small fish in a pond, catching a glimpse of the big ones in the sea of published writers. Sure, there is much to learn from writers on my TL. A lot more to (a) fuel my anxiety and impatience - what is taking me so long? And (b) wonder why some folks are writing what I'm already writing - albeit in secret. I then remembered a quotation attributed to Abraham Lincoln: “Hypocrite: The man who murdered his parents, and then pleaded for mercy on the grounds that he was an orphan.” No one had forced me to follow them. And, I could, after all, choose not to follow any more writers.

Or, I could do what I did when that feeling kicked in: Remember why I write.

That did it for me, really: #writeorsuffocate. I also write to "use it all up" in pleasing my Creator. I write a blog; novellas; short stories and poems. It will all come together. There is no need for me to look around at others. As Joyce Carol Oates put it: "Don’t be discouraged! Don’t cast sidelong glances and compare yourself to others among your peers! (Writing is not a race. No one really ‘wins.’ The satisfaction is in the effort, and rarely in the consequent rewards, if there are any.) And again, write your heart out." Of course, this assurance goes for whatever your area of interest. You do what you do when you do it - and how. Use it all up.

Still haven't got the attention thing down yet, though, while on, say, Twitter. All kinds of news from all over the world come at you in a single scroll. What stands out sometimes is the range of emotions I can go through in one move of my thumb. Somebody won something; a writing tip; someone was killed; a quotation about kindness; a pic of a cute dog... It takes a concious effort to stick to what you went there for. If you're busy doing something else and are just "popping in for a bit"? All the best with that. I grabbed the following from a Monk episode from IMDB. It's kinda long, but, it's the scene that came to mind when I thought of "range of emotions." One of my favourite scenes, by the way. :-)

MONK. Season 5 Episode 7 "Mr. Monk Gets a New Shrink" Writers: Andy Breckman and Hy Conrad

Dr. Kroger questions his abilities after a patient becomes the prime suspect in a murder. He decides to retire but a distressed Monk is convinced someone else is responsible.

Dr. Charlie Kroger: Adrian, I cannot continue to practice anymore after today. The police think that one of my patients killed Teresa Mueller. I should have seen it coming. I didn't; I missed it. This is all my fault. 
Adrian Monk: This isn't happening. This can't be happening. 
Dr. Charlie Kroger: Adrian, I promise you I'll get you another doctor. I'll call you next week. 
Adrian Monk: Okay! So it's not true! You're not retiring! I mean, you can't because... He can't retire... 
Dr. Charlie Kroger: [to Natalie] This is step one in the grieving process: denial. 
Adrian Monk: Damn you, Charles! Damn you to hell! I hate you. I hate you! You are dead to me. 
Natalie Teeger: That's not denial. 
Dr. Charlie Kroger: No, step two, that's anger. 
Adrian Monk: Okay. Okay, we're all adults here. We can work this out. I can hire you full time, all right? Put you on payroll. 
Dr. Charlie Kroger: This is step three: bargaining. It usually doesn't go around this quickly. 
Adrian Monk: Why me? Why is it always me? Everybody's always leaving me. 
Natalie Teeger: Depression? 
Dr. Charlie Kroger: Yeah. 
Adrian Monk: This can't go on. I mean, it's just too much. Okay, you're right. It's not the end of the world. I'll just have to find another doctor. I owe you so much. Thanks to you, I think I can get past this. Thanks, doc. 
Dr. Charlie Kroger: And finally, acceptance. 
Natalie Teeger: Thank God that's over. 
Adrian Monk: He can't retire! The man can't quit because he's not a quitter. 
Natalie Teeger: Wait, what's going on? 
Dr. Charlie Kroger: I don't know. It's like he's starting all over again, like he's in a loop. 
Adrian Monk: I hate you for this, Kroger! You are dead to me! You understand me? Dead! 
Dr. Charlie Kroger: I really should be heading home. 

Claudia 

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

Writing For A Cause

There must be many, many people all over the world who have experienced some feeling of strong emotion and simply wanted to shout what they were feeling from a roof top. Many. To be more accurate, I'd dare say, most. And, that emotional feeling may range anywhere from getting a fantastic end-of-year school report to being wronged by a conniving co-worker (worse, boss). It may have come from having your heart broken by the love of your life and you wanted to let everyone - including his mother - know that the things he told them about you in the end that made you seem all crazy and clingy were not true and you just want to set the record straight because he must have left out the part where he... Oh! Umm, I digress.

Ahh, yes. That elusive roof top. Until now! For, behold, dear reader, Social Media.

As I thought about the series of posts for this month (don't hold me to it; sometimes it pops into my head as a series and sometimes it doesn't), I imagined that there was room for a three-fer: making your mark on life through postings/writings; how social media is that roof top from which we shout and scream and show off and gwaan bad / get on bad, and, finally, how there are those among us who write for a cause - whether political, educational, inspirational, etc.

As I pondered "Social Media As Roof Top", however...wait. Look at that. SMART. Sheer buck-up. And, oh the irony. Anyway, I couldn't help but think how neatly it fit. I don't think I have to expound on the idea. Once you make the link, you'll get it. All that's needed is to make sure that the person or persons you'd like to shout at (not to be confused with giving a shout out to) are no more than, say, two degrees of separation. And, nothing shouts "disclaimer" like a subtext/subtweet or two.

So, without the need to carry on with that point and beat the dead horse to glue, I'm moving to that last bit - and save the next post for something related.

Many write for any of the afore-mentioned (or other) causes. Of course, there's no way I get to read all these blogs. But, now and again, whether because of my job or someone sends me a link or something pops up on my Twitter timeline or the al-things-to-all-people Yahoo!, I get wind of some pretty interesting and insightful material. Remember the quote attributed to Plato? "Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something." Yeah, it's like that. The dedication and thought applied is evident in these writing. It is clear that these folks are here to help; to make you think; to inspire; to encourage and so on. What usually happens is that once you start tuning in to a particular blogger, you tend to look forward to his/her material. And, that's another aspect of that conscious writing - the discipline to keep at it. Of course, life happens. But, generally speaking, they can be relied upon for some good work.

(I got wind from @MizDurie - whose politically provocative blog is at www.facebook.com/ThinkJamaica - that May 23, (Labour Day in Jamaica), will be recognized by many Jamaican bloggers and social media peeps as Jamaica Blog Day - Blog Action Day. According to @JaBlogDay, it will be "focused on police and security forces abuse in Ja."  For the post on the 28th, I hope to provide links to those bloggers who participated in the event.)

Shout out to all you bloggers who do good work! We're learning from you. I'm learning from you. For all you've done so far, thank you.



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

You were here...

“Sue was here but now she’s gone. She left her name to carry on.”

Ah, yes. The timeless signature in the toilet stall.  These, and others like it, were what would greet me as I did my business in the toilet stalls back in primary school. There were fewer in high school - stall signatures, i.e., at our high school (Wolmer’s Girls’ School) we were constantly reminded that we were ladies. (This didn't stop some who’d get their crassness fix, evidenced by a few scribbles – and other unmentionables. I digress.) Usually, the notes seemed to be written kind of lopsided, as if the author had done the scribing as she (and, I imagine the same was for the boys, so, he) was on the throne. Always, though, the unwritten rule: No overlapping. So, each notation of presence, “carved in stone” – until the next coat of paint – was not only as legible as could be. No, it was also written with enough space between itself and its neighbours. After all, if you’re trying to stand out, why would you go for fusion?

Surely, there were also love notes as well as the ones that would not be fit for polite company. But, those aside, I was thinking recently that we, (I mean, people in general), have come a long way from stamping our names on the timeline of humanity via toilet stalls. Pretty sure it’s still done, but, gettn to a point here. I’m also sure there were practices that preceded that one. Whatever they were, from generation to generation, the authors mainly have been after one primal thing: making their mark.

We all have a desire to not be forgotten. As well, there’s an inherent desire in each of us to stand out; do something unique; be distinguishable and memorable.  Some go for the weird. (I think I wrote about that in a post a few years ago during Charlie’s elongated “Winning!” moment. Maybe we could safely include many of those wacky stunts dressed up as reality TV.) Some go for the bad. (Public shooters in mass killings, for example, come to mind.) Others go for none of the above and try, in some other way, to distinguish themselves. And, when that’s done, it’s tied in with the desire to be remembered.

Funny thing is, as the quote goes, “No one on his deathbed has ever said, ‘I wish I’d spent more time at the office,’” the memories that likely matter to most of us would be those had by loved ones after our timely departure from this weary sod. In that moment, would we really care whether we were responsible for finding the cure for cancer? OK. We might care about that. But, y’know? All the achievements and what not, how far down the list of priorities would they be – if they made the list at all – in terms of what we want to be remembered for and whom we’d want to be remembered by?

I guess life’s like that. (This is not where I intended to be when I started this post.) We get here. We have dreams and goals and work hard to achieve them and do. But, in the end, it’s really the relationships and the love that matter.

So, where had I intended to go? That social media have provided us with new, freshly painted, ever-expanding walls on which to write. There’s a lot of space for those individualistic notes – and write away we do. Sometimes, given the ease of access to our material/notes and the speed with which they can be shared, we have to indicate that we’re quoting ourselves when we quote ourselves!

I dare say that for some, writing these notes is not so much about making a mark on the frail human fabric of life. Nor is it about doing something to be remembered by. Instead, it’s simply a way to grasp life in manageable pieces; to keep from being overwhelmed; to keep from suffocating.

#writeorsuffocate

Claudia 

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

No Mad Rush Required

Ever get the feeling that we're all flying about in this social media sphere, occasionally bumping into each other?  That each of us is trying to say something profound and original, while kinda knowing, deep down, that, if we have thought of it, somebody else, somewhere on this planet of seven billion plus people, must have thought of it, too?  That the race then becomes, who can get to put it out there first, in front of the widest audience - and be recognized as the author or creator.

I get that feeling.  Sometimes, that's exactly the kind of race in which I find myself.  There's so much information at our fingertips, it's one thing to rummage through the sheer pile of it all to find a gem.  It's another to be the creator of that gem!  This brings to mind a few lines from that piece I "discovered" and studied for my dramatic monologue for the audition for the part I got in the ad the other day (may I buy another "for"?)  The piece is from George Bernard Shaw's "Man and Superman" (ACT I, 182) .  Tanner is speaking to Tavy (Octavius) about the raging tension, if you will, between the "artist/man" and the "mother/woman": "Our minds are nothing more than this knowledge of ourselves, and he who adds one jot to such knowledge, creates new mind, as surely as any woman creates new men."  Who would not want to add to the body of knowledge that now exists? Now.  Now.  (Get it? Moving target.)  It is a challenge with which doctoral and other students grapple.  A lot.  Heck, it's not just a student/scholarly thing.  In the world outside the classroom, that desire to add to the body of knowledge among human beings is most times simply referred to as "making my mark". 

And, these days, it is way easier to do that.  (For the purpose of this post, never mind the kind of mark.)  And, if we can do it - add to knowledge or make our mark in such a way that we receive (almost) instant recognition and, quite possibly, reward, well, it certainly helps to explain the mad rush to do so.

But, oh, how tiring.  And, what do we give up in the pursuit of this goal?  It has taken me a while to learn - everybody doesn't learn at the same pace - that the joy is not in finishing first and standing out and and and...  But, instead, in being courageous enough to create, and being aware that God has blessed each of us with that something already unique to each of us - our unique selves.  That, if we simply be ourselves and let Him help us discover our talents and gifts and use them, we can - and will - exceed our own expectations.  And, be happy.

No mad rush required. 

Claudia 

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

While you were out: World Peace achieved

As a few of my co-workers returned from lunch the other day, one of them asked, “Anything interesting happened while we were out?”  Without missing a beat – and I’m still not sure where it came from – I responded, “World peace was achieved!”   I followed up with, “I wish!” and we laughed it off.  But, nonetheless, it got me thinking that there are days when you just want to close your eyes and open them...Voila!  Everything is in its place and all is right with the world. 

Well, at least, your world.

Given the plethora of things that can (and do) go wrong on any given day, it’s amazing how most of us manage to keep it together.  True, things are not always in ‘the-sky-is-falling!’ mode, but, sometimes, when you do try to take it one day at a time, as that old quote says: “Some days seem to attack you all at once.”

And that’s just in your 2x2 zone.  Look outside of that and you become aware of people and their hurts and their despair and their voicelessness.  Yes, there’s lotsa beauty to behold, but we’re not talking beauty now. At this moment.  We’re talking about the ugly and the fact that, in many circumstances, it doesn’t have to be.

The Hiding

What makes it worse, however, is that some of us, with our multiplicity of media, including social media, and platforms from which to speak, take advantage of that.  Even – and especially – when we shouldn’t.  It’s pretty easy to hide behind…okay, let’s say use pseudonyms and monikers and what not, as we comment on news items and so on.  (After all, I use - not hide behind - Cee Dubya. Well, it kinda started off as kinda hiding behind, but for the apprehension of dealing with negative criticism.  Now, I just use it - and should perhaps add my real name to future postings...oh the digression.)  But it becomes “hiding behind” when we lash out at other faceless and sometimes real-nameless persons.  There’s a theory my sis has mentioned and I’ve forgotten what it’s called. It seeks to explain that the more far removed you are from your ‘target’ the harsher you are prone to get.   And we see examples of that every single solitary day as we comb the comment boards on various sites – mainstream and other media alike.   People say really mean and ugly and harsh things to their fellow human beings; things that they would never say to them in person, but for the fact that they are remaining anonymous.  Kinda like an ‘average Joe’ with a gun, isn’t it?  Wouldn’t be confrontational in a situation, much more fight it out.  Yet, standing behind a .38 calibre (Way too much TV here.  No, wait!  Maybe, it’s just the news) he is Mr. Tough n Ready.   

Because we can?

So, folks hide and hit and run off to the next story and the next comment board.  This past week, this issue was brought to the fore by way of a rather sad piece of news.  Looking through an edition of the Jamaica Observer, I came upon the story of a gentleman who had passed oh so suddenly, a day short of his 70^th birthday.  He had climbed an ackee tree and met his end when he fell and suffered head trauma.  Now, what took me aback were a few of the comments.  They not only questioned his decision to climb a tree at that age (I didn’t know the man, I have only read accounts that he was strong and in good health), but also insinuated that he was stingy!  That he could have paid a younger person to do that blah blah blah.  And I’m thinking, are you nuts?!  Does your elevator go all the way to the top?  Because, unless you’re, y’know, clueless, you would understand that the probability of family members reading the story, and its online comments, is very high.  What would possess someone to offer condolences in one breath and criticize the person for causing-his-own-death-because-he-was-stingy in the other? ‘Two’ words: un believable.   How would you imagine the family members felt upon reading those comments, or, for the much older ones who are not too computer/Internet savvy, having the comments read to them?

The Ugly: Co-created by...

There are a few times when we say things that we regret, even as the last syllable is leaving our lips.  A kind of similar thing happens when we write – especially in haste.  When we write, however, we have a little more wiggle room.  If we’re still in the pen and paper mode, we can ‘white out’, cross out…you get  the idea.  At our computer, we almost invariably have the option of backspacing/deleting before we hit ‘post comment’.  Could we at least re-read our comments about things of such a sensitive nature before we post?  How are they likely to affect the real people concerned?  As another sis pointed out, the affected family aren’t actors in a movie.  They are real people.  We might be standing on top of our podium – tap tap, is this thing on? – clearing our throats and uttering our rhetoric for all of cyberspace to hear.  But, to whom it does concern, how helpful is our speech?  How much of the ugly do we help to create?  (And then bicker about later?  But that’s for another post.)

We breathe the same air (part of a fav line from Mr. Monk and the Astronaut)

I just imagine this scenario in many other situations and the multiplier effect.  Just one of the reasons for the elusive “World Peace”.  (Do beauty contestants still make that wish?)  At the risk of sounding sanctimonious, I humbly posit: Let’s be kinder, even when online, even when using a moniker and especially in really sensitive situations.

It may not seem like it’s covering a wide geographic area, but, where we have a personal test of our humanity, let’s win!  Let’s begin, in our own world, to reduce the ugly and to increase peace.  ‘Cause, in case you haven’t yet realized it, our worlds are connected - and we breathe the same air!

Claudia

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

Heads-up! We’re bottoming out.

Are we getting too low for comfort? Well, it seems that those who are getting that low (IMO), are clearly comfortable with it. Perhaps, in that thought process, it’s not a measure or judgment of “low-ness” or fnoabw, depth. It may well be, perhaps, simply a matter of a new territory. There’s no hole being dug, no ladder being climbed. It’s just …virgin territory.

We live on a planet that has become tough, cynical, insatiable, impatient, (instant-coffee-is-too-slow), with numerous persons walking around individually-wrapped in a very real fear of being lost in the crowd. So, what do they do? Try – even if it means being egregious – to stand out from the other six billion plus people.

At one point or another, most people have pondered the why-am-I-here? question. And, along the continuum of that thought, may come the will-I-be-missed-when-I’m-gone? question. So, somewhere in-between, you try to “do something” that will attest to the fact that you were here, and hope that that “something” is the purpose for which you were placed here. (“Hope is not a method” as the General’s book is so aptly titled. But that’s for another time.)

Now, my question is: Does that “something” that you do to distinguish you from every other human being before, during and after your presence here have to be as obtuse as tweeting to the social media community at the very moment that you are doing something as serious as, say, being pronounced husband to your new wife? Hmm? Seems like some are willing to do whatever it takes to make some record or the other. Doesn’t matter which one. Just have history recording that, “I was the first to …”

You know what’s scary? The kinds of stunts that this guy’s protégés are going to pull to try to top that.

I’d say we’re bottoming out – and, where is the bottom, anyway?


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro