The problem is that there’s so much to write about. I see subjects for discussion and speculation everywhere—Christmas in November, daylight savings time in November(!), man’s inhumanity to dogs, paparazzi on the “Britwatch,” my first bout with writer’s block or whatever you want to call it, the Facebook saga, and on and on the list goes. I’ve started writing and then stopped, almost overwhelmed by the combination of how much there is to say and the nagging thought that no one is really listening anyway. Now there’s the REAL writer’s dilemma. It will always be that way. In fact, it’s that way for any artist, whether writer, painter, sculptor, or musician: I always have too much to say, too little time in which to cram it all in, and when all is said and done, who is really paying attention?
I wonder that about the world a lot. I mean who is REALLY paying attention? I’ve been haunted and stymied lately by the barrage of information, and not necessarily useful information, about people’s insensitivity to the people around them, to the planet, and to their own basic needs. Sometimes I fear that we’re all just going to obliterate ourselves. But then, I guess it is what it is, if that happens. More likely, we’ll just evolve into something else, having destroyed something precious about ourselves and our species at the same time.
Take Facebook, for example. I love it and hate it at the same time. I’ve always been the sort of person that, if I like you or want to get to know you, I’ll spend time with you and talk to you face-to-face. I’ve never been a big fan of the telephone, which is why I don’t own a cellphone. I’m not saying I’ll never buy one, but for now I get by just fine without people knowing where I am and being able to contact me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I know they have their uses, which makes them somewhat attractive. And I know some people who swear they could never get by without theirs (which is a lie to oneself, really), but it’s my choice to save some of me for me. I like having downtime, some time when the world doesn’t know where I am, what I’m doing, or how I’m feeling.
Facebook has been a gift, in the sense that it allows me some control over the kind of information I put out there. There is still a certain amount of anonymity because people will judge you by what you say, for the most part, at “face” value. I’m sure people will also speculate about what you’re not saying (I know I do)—in fact, I find that I worry more about people these days than I used to. I’ve always wished I could stay in contact with some students long after they’ve done my course and even graduated from MUN—some students manage to do this. I’ve known some people for nearly ten years now, who did a course from me in first year university in the late 90s. That, to me, is what it’s all about. I like knowing how people are doing and not just in a surface kind of way. But that’s my burden to bear.
Facebook allows people to put stuff out there and then I’m left wondering—“should I respond to this?” I mean, not just as a human being, but as a prof who’s concerned about his former students, do I even have the right to say, “You know, I’m paying attention and I hope you’re doing okay”? Maybe, maybe not.
I think it’s this whole “friends” idea that gets me. I can honestly say that I like all of the people who have signed on to be my friends. It’s a nice feeling. But whether they actually want me paying that much attention to their lives or not…well, somehow, for most of them, I doubt it. I think I’m supposed to ignore when people are hurting or sad or missing someone or need a surgery or are just in a great mood and want the world to know it. It’s enough for me to just see this and move on with my life. I think that’s what you’re supposed to do.
But I’ve always been empathic. Or empathetic. Not sure which is the right word, actually. But I’ve always cared a little more about people and been able to understand them and read between the lines a bit more than the average person. That’s partly what makes me a writer—not because I can string words together better than anyone else, but because I think I understand a bit about the human condition and I have a need to express it.
Technology is an ambiguous invention that leaves me feeling ambivalent. On the one hand, it brings you closer to people you ordinarily wouldn’t have much contact with. On the other hand, it gives people a reason to stay apart—to never HAVE to see each other face to face. More and more, we’re becoming a society that is intent on keep people apart. That’s what the Blackberry is all about—so that people can be in your company or attending a lecture or movie or whatever and can bury themselves in their Blackberries, iPods, or text-messaging apparatus.
Do we really need all this information at our fingertips? I’ve already got more than I know what to do with—and I’ve got a ton of really great books on my bookshelf that I should have read. I should be going out for walks, enjoying the fresh air. I should be spending time with my wife. I should be writing. I should be spending time with family and friends, hanging out, having lunch and coffee together, playing some sports. All of that, and more. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.
My writing hasn’t been going so well lately, but that’s a topic for another day. There are probably lots of factors, but it does bother me that for the first time in my life, I’m having a mild spell of what some people call “writer’s block”. I think that’s worth exploring. Maybe it’ll give me some empathy towards people who do claim to have writer’s block. Before, I’ve always said that all you have to do is sit yourself down and write, that there’s no such thing as writer’s block. I’m still not sure there is, but that is for next time, maybe. Or maybe I'll have something else on my mind by then.
Thanks for being patient with me. I think I got buried there for a while, but I’m probably back now. My promise to myself is to become more regular at writing these blog entries over the next few weeks. Even if there’s one person reading it, that’s plenty for me. (And for the one “anonymous” person who wrote to remind that I have a “patient” audience waiting, thank you for reminding me. Really.) It’s like a time capsule in a way. It doesn’t matter who’s reading now because this page can be discovered years from now by someone who might find it interesting.
Isn’t technology wonderful?
