Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Online connections are human connections
On Facebook, they have these memes circulating, where you ask your friends to describe you in one word, or tell a memory they have about you. I usually avoid the memes because they feel faintly narcissistic (can't believe I spelled that right on the first try)--not when others do them, but for me, yeah. I'm always harder on myself than I am on others. Anyway, last night I did one that seemed fairly harmless: How did we meet? I am saddened by how little I remember, and amazed by how much others do. It was a fun exercise.
I realized that I have three main time periods in my circle of everyday buddies, and those are high school, college and blog, i.e. the past 3-4 years. There's a biiiiig, empty space between college and blog. It's not that I was completely isolated, I worked during most of that time, but the demands of family life kept me from creating a lasting bond, I suppose. It's hard to make friends when you can't just hang out and have fun.
That's why I hate it when people dismiss online relationships out of hand, or even ridicule them as pathetic. When online communication started years ago, it was generally accepted that relationships online were pretty much meaningless. After all, you're not really talking and interacting with a human, just words on a screen. I've found, though--and I think a lot of other people have, too--that the interactions we have with each other online can be just as meaningful as real life friendships. Is it healthy for online connections to replace real-life ones? Probably not. But can they be a supplement, enriching your life in countless ways? Indubitably. (That word took three tries.) No matter how cynics enjoy reducing solely-Internet friendships to their electrons, there is a human being sending his or her intentions to you. The method in which you receive those intentions doesn't matter much.
Granted, it's harder to know what those intentions are without body language and inflection, but it's like having a hundred pen pals. And for someone like me, with limited opportunities to interact face-to-face with people who share my interests, this has worked pretty well. Don't you agree?
I realized that I have three main time periods in my circle of everyday buddies, and those are high school, college and blog, i.e. the past 3-4 years. There's a biiiiig, empty space between college and blog. It's not that I was completely isolated, I worked during most of that time, but the demands of family life kept me from creating a lasting bond, I suppose. It's hard to make friends when you can't just hang out and have fun.
That's why I hate it when people dismiss online relationships out of hand, or even ridicule them as pathetic. When online communication started years ago, it was generally accepted that relationships online were pretty much meaningless. After all, you're not really talking and interacting with a human, just words on a screen. I've found, though--and I think a lot of other people have, too--that the interactions we have with each other online can be just as meaningful as real life friendships. Is it healthy for online connections to replace real-life ones? Probably not. But can they be a supplement, enriching your life in countless ways? Indubitably. (That word took three tries.) No matter how cynics enjoy reducing solely-Internet friendships to their electrons, there is a human being sending his or her intentions to you. The method in which you receive those intentions doesn't matter much.
Granted, it's harder to know what those intentions are without body language and inflection, but it's like having a hundred pen pals. And for someone like me, with limited opportunities to interact face-to-face with people who share my interests, this has worked pretty well. Don't you agree?
Blockage
As you can see, I've changed things around a bit. I removed the landing page so my blog is right up front, added a bio page, and added an RSS feed at the top of the sidebar. The bio is just an old one I had lying around, but as it appeared I would never write a new one I figured it was better than nothing. I dislike those things so much.
Have you ever been blocked by someone in your social media travels? Isn't it the strangest feeling? When a simple "Please don't contact me anymore" would suffice, being blocked seems like overkill. I don't want to be where I'm not wanted, but I'm sort of dense sometimes, I guess. Of course, I've done it to strangers who make me uncomfortable, so when it happens to me I wonder what I've done wrong. Darcknyt had a similar experience on Twitter, but I think the consensus on his unexplained blockage was that it was a mistake. It's even weirder and more hurtful when it's somebody you care about, even if you know why it happened, but worse when you don't.
Way back in '99, before this world of pseudo-relationships and e-friendships intruded on my daily life, I worked at a Wrangler jeans factory with a girl named Julie. She was Kickapoo Indian and taught me how to say things in Kickapoo, to the amusement of her Indian friends. She told me her stories and I told her mine, and we were, I thought, good friends for a couple of years. You know, not that we called each other outside of work, but a good friend nonetheless. I loved her and would have been open to an outside friendship.
One day, we were laughing and ribbing each other while the other girls on the line wished we would shut up and work. This was long ago so I don't remember how it started, but I joked, "Well then I just won't talk to you for the rest of the day," or , "Don't talk to me anymore," or something like that. So she didn't talk to me the rest of the day. I thought it was a joke. The next morning I said hi to her, and she looked at me and went back to tacking those pockets without a word. I said, "Oh, you're still not talking, huh?" Nothing. I still wasn't sure she wasn't still joking around, so I let her be silent. As the days passed, it was clear she was not going to come around.
Julie and I worked together for a while after that, at least many months, probably a year, maybe two, and she never spoke to me again. I had been blocked.
I moved on, but it still haunts me. Did she think I was serious? Was it a pride thing? I never had the chance to explain myself or apologize, because such words bounced off her. So I guess we weren't friends after all, because wouldn't a friend give another friend a chance to explain? Wouldn't a friend lower the wall of hurt or pride or whatever for a moment, at least entertain the possibility that a misunderstanding had occurred? I don't know. Maybe I don't even know what friendship is. Do you?
Have you ever been blocked by someone in your social media travels? Isn't it the strangest feeling? When a simple "Please don't contact me anymore" would suffice, being blocked seems like overkill. I don't want to be where I'm not wanted, but I'm sort of dense sometimes, I guess. Of course, I've done it to strangers who make me uncomfortable, so when it happens to me I wonder what I've done wrong. Darcknyt had a similar experience on Twitter, but I think the consensus on his unexplained blockage was that it was a mistake. It's even weirder and more hurtful when it's somebody you care about, even if you know why it happened, but worse when you don't.
Way back in '99, before this world of pseudo-relationships and e-friendships intruded on my daily life, I worked at a Wrangler jeans factory with a girl named Julie. She was Kickapoo Indian and taught me how to say things in Kickapoo, to the amusement of her Indian friends. She told me her stories and I told her mine, and we were, I thought, good friends for a couple of years. You know, not that we called each other outside of work, but a good friend nonetheless. I loved her and would have been open to an outside friendship.
One day, we were laughing and ribbing each other while the other girls on the line wished we would shut up and work. This was long ago so I don't remember how it started, but I joked, "Well then I just won't talk to you for the rest of the day," or , "Don't talk to me anymore," or something like that. So she didn't talk to me the rest of the day. I thought it was a joke. The next morning I said hi to her, and she looked at me and went back to tacking those pockets without a word. I said, "Oh, you're still not talking, huh?" Nothing. I still wasn't sure she wasn't still joking around, so I let her be silent. As the days passed, it was clear she was not going to come around.
Julie and I worked together for a while after that, at least many months, probably a year, maybe two, and she never spoke to me again. I had been blocked.
I moved on, but it still haunts me. Did she think I was serious? Was it a pride thing? I never had the chance to explain myself or apologize, because such words bounced off her. So I guess we weren't friends after all, because wouldn't a friend give another friend a chance to explain? Wouldn't a friend lower the wall of hurt or pride or whatever for a moment, at least entertain the possibility that a misunderstanding had occurred? I don't know. Maybe I don't even know what friendship is. Do you?
A Gift
I'd just gotten in from grocery shopping (that's why I look so good), and guess what I found on my doorstep! This is the package I've been waiting for: the book that Marta made for me. It's a gift which combines all my loves--art, fiction, and hand-crafted...ness. The book is The Labyrinth House, one I gave a critique a few months (a year?) back, so it has sentimental value, not to mention I've been wanting to get my hands on some of Marta's art, and now I have it. Here's a link to her art page, Words Are Art. Go browse...buy something. One of these days it will be worth ten times what you paid, mark my words.
My 10-year-old daughter loves to look at Marta's pictures, so she is thrilled with the book, even though the story is too old for her. I need to put it under glass so she won't smudge it with all her touching. I'll do that after I read it again.
Looking at my gift, I see inspiration, anticipation, friendship, and beauty. It touches me so deeply that I'm not sure I can even see all the ways it touches me.
I'll stop gushing now. I just wanted you to see it.
