Burn the Witch

There are moments in my life where, I find myself stepping back from everything and asking the question ‘was that the right thing to do?’ If I’m honest, I spend far too much time poking things that should probably be well left alone, but at that moment, undoubtedly it seemed like a good idea. Some of them are, other’s aren’t: welcome to the World of Constant Reassessment. This drives my husband absolutely insane, and I can understand why, but for me having that balance running is really rather important. I’m thinking now about the last person I interacted with, how it came down to a choice that someone else imposed on me whether I kept speaking to them or not. It was either one or the other, and being made to do that to begin with should have been enough of a warning sign. That’s not how you make friends.

Yesterday I took pretty much 95% of my Twitter blocks off. It occurs to me that at some point, you have to accept the fate you place in your own path by the actions that are taken. Blocking one person across all of my social media is never something I’ve ever had to do: it is, in effect a virtual impossibility to attempt to remove someone completely from your life, and as we continue down these virtual Internet pathways it will become apparent to people that trying to control a life is only as possible as the tools that are presented to defend yourself with. I will never be able to eliminate hate whilst hate still exists. You can regulate and monitor, and if the stuff becomes dangerous, you can attempt to cut it out but ultimately, the militants and extremists aren’t the real threat. It’s the normal people who have a ‘moment’ and lose the plot that are the real killers, because nobody saw them coming.

header51In fact, if I am honest with myself, none of the people who I’ve crossed swords with are insane, or dangerous. They’re just not compatible with me. That’s hardly a reason for hate or anger, but oddly it becomes both when someone needs to prove a point. I realise that, for at least one person, I became the ‘there was this nutter on the Internet’ story that they can pass around to their friends and make it so that when I come across them in random conversation, it becomes apparent they’re not listening, or prepared to let me even talk to them. Finding you’re blocked from someone’s feed who you’ve never even spoken too means that, somewhere along the way, you became the enemy. I find that the most sobering thought of all, in all of these considerations of past and present communication. I became the person you hated, for no other reason than you didn’t like what I was. Okay, that might be a tad simplistic, but the point is still worth making.

There’s one person I still regret losing, until I realised that I haven’t. The reason why they left was (I believe) that it was too painful for them to remain whilst I am what I am. As that’s not likely to change any time soon, they vanished from one part of my life, yet steadfastly remain in others, and this is a new concept I’m trying to grasp. I’d prefer that people took me for what I was, good and bad, but the Internet allows them to pick only the parts they wish. So, photography me (who is not bound by the same rules as Twitter me) is of interest to some, but not others. Twitter me conversely becomes of significance only to those interested in the range of tastes I peddle there, whilst this Blog serves as a conduit between the two. This means, in effect, I exist in many forms, which you need to combine in which to form a complete picture of my whole.

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This is what the Internet attempts to do: computers use algorithms to try and work out our tastes and interests on shopping sites and sell stuff to us based on our own habits and desires. Social media hopes it can use the correct forms of advertising to do the same with people, which is all well and good but only to a point. The complexity of humanity means it should be virtually impossible to match people on compatibility, yet virtual dating sites are doing just that, and selling themselves on their chances of success. Everything can be matched to you, but there’s a point where you ask whether that’s what you want, because as individuals mature, so do their outlooks and attitudes. The person you loved a decade ago could be your sworn enemy; if you changed because of them, it would be great if the algorithm caught up. As you change, then the world around you should do, but ultimately for many it never does.

I want to be the change I know I can be. The only way this happens is by being better than I was yesterday, and improving a little every day. To do that, sometimes you have to do things that scare you. Occasionally, you have to admit that maybe, you were the problem.

Today, I admit that, and move on.

2 thoughts on “Burn the Witch

  1. 140 characters is a mine field of a format to exist in. It does not allow for the shaping of a complete thought or statement. There is no room to place context into what you’re trying to say. Reading a blog or even commenting allows the formulation of a more coherent thought. The end result may be the same. People may still think you’re a nut case, or don’t grasp what you are trying to say. But at least it gives more room to explain.

    It’s why I’m existing here now. It is much more pleasant to read complete thought on a topic than quick headlines, or click bait 😱

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  2. if this comment pops up a second time, I blame WordPress.

    140 characters is a virtual minefield to navigate. It is too simple to misinterpret a comment made, or jump in to reply before someone has finished a thought, or comment on something a friend has said to someone you don’t even know. Also very easy for a conversation to spiral off in 10 different tangents occasionally overlapping. It does not give an opportunity to elaborate on why you are saying something, or to give context. It is very good for catching a glimpse into what a person is saying.

    I prefer to exist here now in the World of Blogcraft. Where I can read a whole thought, can understand the reasoning, the why, someone is saying what they are. Even with replies. I can even make a futile attempt at saying something coherent myself. Putting thoughts to paper is never simple, stripping it down to 140 can give it a different meaning.

    The written word can always be read differently by anyone. Our personal experiences, our culture, even our differences in language make things seem different than what you write.

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