cultural tourism

i'm holidaying for the weekend, by the beach, with a family of friends. this is when i hear about the thing in norway.

i'm at a coastal town market on sunday when i overhear a conversation by a stallholder and a friend/customer about their views on immigrants. his tables are lined with old glassware and ornaments, some of them quite nice. he talks about his family, or family friends, who came over here not having any english, "but they learnt". she says "because they were proud". she tells similar stories. back and forth they validate each others phobia of the newly arrived. he says something about "our flag", and "not the Iraqi flag". she says the good ones (her european friends/ancestors, presumably) don't forget where they came from, but at least they become Australian. at one point, with much gusto, she says "it just makes me sick". at this point i walk away, out of earshot.

whilst lingering and listening, the glassware around me transformed into potential destruction that i might cause to interrupt this conversation. "here's what i think of your immigration politics...". but no, of course i don't. i wouldn't. but in an alternative life (the one i might write, but not live), i pick up a magnificent ornament and thrust it to the ground. i do it again, and then again. i thrust glass upon glass to double the shattering. i smash more loudly, more viciously. i put my whole body into this. i kick, i shove, i throw, i grunt. my anger builds and rolls out of me, beautifully focused on my unfurling destruction. when i stop, so does all sound. no more shattering, and no more talking. there are no more statements from those two people. there's just a mess of pretty ruin. they probably don't know what to say now. and nor do i. but my hatred is gone. and i walk away and feel the warmth of sunshine.

some people might say...

life away from facebook is nice. my only concern is that some people might take my disappearance as a personal rejection, as is likely to happen in a space where your friendship becomes reduced to a digital link. if you take away that point of mediation does the friendship fall down? i suspect it often does. but that's okay, because i don't need 180 friends.

the friendships i need will continue via interactions that aren't so faceless. i suspect these will be friendships that never became too digitalised anyway.

deleting my avatar brings many good things. here's a list:

1. i have less opportunity to read reams of mundane 'self statements'.

2. i don't spend time asking why such statements needed to be broadcast.

3. i don't have to mediate a response (or non-response) to everything i see/read.

4. i don't have so much white noise to contend with.

5. i don't often say "i know" when people tell me something about themselves.

6. i have one less reason to get angry about people.

7. i have one less space in which to judge people.

8. i have significant less opportunity to procrastinate, and more time for other things that make me feel more accomplished in my days.

9. i feel less lonely.

10. i have more room to think about my privacy and why this is important.

another good thing is that i write more. most of this is not available to friends and acquaintances, which is great, because they don't need to read it. and i shouldn't need to have it validated (liked) by them. it's a private space in which i process events, feelings, things, and it only serves me, which is how i need it to be. there's a different tone in my words when i'm not fitting them to particular audiences. there's less room for me to perform what i think i need to. but there's also more confidence that something will come of this, someday.

deactivating another self

i just deleted facebook. it's been on the cards for a while, and today is a fitting time to pull the plug. many people have heard about the hatred i feel for that site. but i guess i was reluctant to quit because it afforded me much time to play, and some sense of support. but right now i don't want to play. i need to disconnect from any space in which i feel compelled to perform a certain kind of self that needs approval and response. because today i'm different. today i don't care. today i can offer no consistency, no comment, and no desire to be 'liked'. i'm frightened by the idea of witty banter. give me depth. give me privacy.

give me a bed, a room, a hug, a cup of tea, and gentle words.

right now i'm experiencing a loss; something akin to grief. in such times i can't tolerate much of anything that isn't listed above. after a few days absence i checked facebook this morning only to be angered by overt (but unsurprising) performances of 'being wonderful'. i deactivate. problem solved.

i still have a fog of sadness, but that's kind of nice. i guess i don't want to have to feel like it should be any other way.