My conflicted (though not at all original) relationship with social media

Considering the current…climate (yeah, let’s go with that), I’ve been thinking a lot about social media, much to my disgust. I’ve been a passive and sporadic user of Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube and Facebook for years and have tried my hand on Twitter a couple of times, only to find that the site terrifies me more than anything else. Continue reading My conflicted (though not at all original) relationship with social media

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When to let go?

It’s 36 degrees Celsius today and I’m spending my day off indoors with Netflix and airconditioning. However, now that I’ve reached a pause for the first time in a fortnight, I’m subsequently left with some thoughts, feelings and ultimately decisions that I need to confront.

Something that I have always struggled with is making the call of when to hold on to something or someone or when to let go. I always sit somewhere between head and heart when it comes to decisions, aware that I don’t want to fall too far on either side of that spectrum. Yet, I’ve always been a person of strong reactions and opinions. I have, like most people, a ‘gut’ reaction. But when that instinct renders a negative response to a person or situation, I’m not always sure where to proceed with that information. Fight or flight, wait and see, ignore or deal? What is the right thing to do? Here is where my head comes into play, desperately trying to see the logical and responsible path, one that may not necessarily correlate to what my heart wants, or what my gut thinks is right.

It’s like walking a tightrope, trying to balance the two on either side. No, it’s more like being the scales. Yes, that’s how it feels, as though I have to embody the balance. I can feel the weight on either end. I’m stuck, standing still, not moving forward in either direction.

I suppose having control is not always easy. Though, it’s those moments in life where we don’t have it, that we crave it.

Either way, do I let go? Move on?
Stay?

The most likely option is to let myself be pushed to the edge. If only I can bear to look below, knowing that I could fall.

Emotions are very difficult and my thoughts on this are not so profound

I’m taking a brief departure from my usual slosh of poetry, prose and odd diary-like entries to write more plainly and probably less effectively about feelings. Specifically, the process of having them and then turning them into art. Or at least trying to.

Also, just a disclaimer, I’m using the term ‘art’ to describe all ‘creative practice’, not in any way to imply quality or merit to what I do here, just as an encompassing term for making stuff and honing in on creativity. So let’s get down to it. Continue reading Emotions are very difficult and my thoughts on this are not so profound

Over a Bridge

Confused, conflicted, what’s another word that begins with C? Alliteration is more effective when it comes in threes.

I’ll ponder that for a moment.

Today felt like a dream. Not a nice dream though, not dreamy, but not a nightmare either. Rather, it was a slow, sluggish daze. Today was hazy and heavy, like that moment when you wake up from a deep sleep, only partially conscious, your head like a cement brick.

I drifted from each class and through each hour. I didn’t notice much. I was terribly unfocused though I managed to go through the motions; contributing to seminars, taking notes, raising a point or two about postmodern literature, etc. But nothing really stuck, nothing landed, solidified in my mind. I felt, in one word, disconnected.

I’m in a fog. And it goes on for as I can see, as far as I can look ahead. Which, albeit, at this stage, is not very far at all. I figure if I was not outwardly present then maybe I was too inward, too internally focused.

Regardless of my ‘haze’, I walked home in the chilly September wind, happy that summer hasn’t made an early appearance just yet. I wrapped myself in a long scarf, looping it around twice before tossing it over my left shoulder. It blew in the wind, flailing behind me as I walked across the bridge, over the Torrens, which, surprisingly, didn’t smell too bad today. Earlier I walked over another bridge where couples, people, people in love had inscribed, initialled, engraved, fastened locks and assumedly, thrown away the key.

Thinking about bridges I should probably get over it.

Perhaps alliteration is overrated.

 

Captive.