Are you real?

Where in the world are you? That’s my street up there – care to have a drink with me?

Blogs can become so impersonal… yes, you’ve read it correctly. Impersonal. Most create a persona, and even the ones who try to remain honest are always, and automatically, censoring little bits and pieces of information about themselves, their real and full beliefs and what is really going on with their lives.

Why do we do this? And more disturbing – why does it give us pleasure reassurance about our own real life, if it has little to do with it?

Nowadays we can blog from any place and we do it with any frame of mind (go ahead and call it twitting, face-booking, or whatever fits your time with trivialities). Some of us strive on an inexplicable necessity to keep blogging even when that frame of mind doesn’t support it. It’s no news to anyone that we are becoming identities on-the-web, but few stop to think about why that is. “Evolution!” you might say.

Really? Can we evolve outside our real lives and beyond our real identities? Are we evolving, or just stalling a semi-adolescent thought-processor (you might call it brain, but I believe the old fellow is just too far gone, or else it would wake some sense in you) sustained by repeating the same unproductive tasks day in and day out?

Then of course, that much dedication to a persona makes our virtual identities seem far more interesting than our real ones. Many see it as real as any other flying bug, flapping our little bodies over the keys and curling our little hearts waiting for comments. But it’s the ritual that it’s active: the waiting, the pampering and the hope for it all to sound real enough to gather more followers. “World recognition!!” we dream; we aren’t real until we get it… we aren’t someone, any-one, it ! And in a way we’ll never be… because we aren’t living and breathing social beings. We aren’t real in society, on planet Earth, inside our own mind.

We haven’t been it for so long now that the word that defines what we are is: bored ! That’s what we are. Alive? It’s been so long that we forgot all about it and figure that having vital organs in all the right places must be enough to do the trick. Take a walk outside? Just keep on typing, no brains required. I wonder if it will come a time when we will stop reproducing – to much work, no web recognition… wait? Is that why people flash their baby’s photos all over social networking sites? Argh…

There is still a group of humans detached from all this, pumping new blood and doing the rounds: people that don’t have nor don’t care to have, a virtual identity. The Others. I don’t believe they are little in numbers, as most of my friends and family are them. And let me add that the good old-fashioned living, walking over real grass, chatting over a real drink and hugging with real arms, doesn’t seem to need the pixelated praises to live on happily. In fact, The Others seem much calmer than Us, less prone to gravitate around a computer after working hours or stress over internet stats and virtual accounts for no intelligent reason.

So why do we do it? Why do we reflex our minds to a keyboard, caress a mouse and talk to pixelated screens for hours at a time, trusting in whatever it comments back more than we trust our own judgment?

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3 thoughts on “Are you real?

  1. Why do we do it V?
    I don’t know.
    Recently I haven’t done much by way of blogging, can’t be bothered actually.
    There was a time when I spent every spare waking hour thinking about my writing, my plot, my characters and my blog but I seem to be leaving it behind me now.
    They say that the average blog survives for 6 months before petering out. Well I outlasted that statistic but I seem to have run into a wall on it. I derive no pride nor pleasure anymore from the written word, I have dried up on the passion.
    For example, I write lyrics for a band. They used to give me a song to write and it would be done inside of a week. I’m struggling at the moment over two songs that I’ve had on my hard drive for over a month.
    My apathy, in regards to putting fingers to keys is complete and yet even though I know it, I cannot seem to bring myself to do anything about it.
    To answer your question, I once strived to reach out to as many people as possible; to spread my message to as many like minded souls that the power of the internet would allow. Not for financial gain or fame, just to reach out and touch.
    Nowadays I no longer care.
    I have made a few cyber friends along the way, you and a few other good people that I like to think I’ve connected with. However, that is all I have to show for the hours I sat in front of this screen, plodding at the keys like an exhausted hack on a deadline.
    My inspiration has been skewered on the spike of indifference and it doesn’t bother me a jot.
    Sad that, innit?

  2. The truth is we tend to waste our energy in the beginning, dreaming outside of ourselves and too high, when we should be just writing with the door closed – not caring at all FROM the beginning.

    But it’s in our human nature to care and to want people to care with us, specially in the beginning because it’s the time when we are so excited with something new.

    But the truth is, there’s nothing new about it. I read the other day that there is actually a decrease of people reading books, and far more people claiming to be writing novels than reading them.

    The energy has to run empty sooner than later if we are running with so many expectations on our heads and so many competitors on the field, and no customers… It seems that what sells now is trivialities; what grabs followers as well as book readers, isn’t as much a good fictional story but real gossip or real life experience, especially the fools or the already famous.

    I could sell my soul like that, my life has enough drama, but that would be a waste of my time and I treasure my privacy.

    It’s hard, almost impossible, to keep on feeding our own energy if we expect the world to reflex on it: probably it won’t, unless we sell our souls and enter some reality TV show and talk about our devils on air. And even so…

    My energy, after this one year, has fallen to almost nothing, but I intend to enter this new year with a new attitude, with the attitude I should had had from the beginning of 2010: to write for myself, without one single thought towards publication concerning my novel and short stories, and without working to have comments here. When I finish any piece of writing, I will send it to do its rounds and don’t fret about it. I just want to write and care about my writing. What will be, will be.

    The same goes to this blog. I will write my mind on it and forget about it. Maybe it will become a better blog for it, maybe not.

    If you are my single viewer throughout 2011, I consider myself content, really. I still like my writing, here or elsewhere, and that’s something I would hate to lose.

    Happy 2011 my friend.

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