Social Networks Sucking Up Resources

Recently I deleted my Facebook, LinkedIn and Google+ account. Yep, I bit the big bullet and decided it was too great a distraction that I needed in my life. On one hand, it doesn’t sound like such a profound thing… “Oh, so you mean you just removed your username from a website?” For me it was a little more than that.

I have relationships on there. I had photos of interesting people that I had met and certain groups which I found enticing. I had my own Facebook email, and of course I loved the fact I could post endless amounts of sardonic, witty, crass, zany, and at times vaguely meaningful statuses at any time of the day wherever the heck I was. So from this you can conclude it was a fairly large part of my online persona. Once you get entrenched in some form of social networking you can’t help but have some sort of ego attached to your presence on there. For me it was time to cut it out of my life.

 

So why did you do it?

This happened at the end of July so it’s been roughly two whole weeks. That question is probably right on the tip of your tongue. I did it for personal reasons, and also to focus on more important day-to-day issues in my life. Taking out Facebook is changing a behavior. Now instead of thinking up a witty post or googling a funny picture to share with the mass I’m resigning to blogging (on WordPress, browsing interesting artwork on Deviant Art, and reading poetry on WritersCafe (a social networking site for writers).

They say that breaking a habit means you should have something to substitute the habit with. Think about it, if a chimney-smoking-enthusiast decides to give up puffing fags for a whole year, it’s not such a bold statement. In fact it’s idiotic, since he will have a hungry pair of eyes focussed on the finish line. In time we will be smoking again and stuck in a rut. So I do still have an online presence in certain areas. I still blog whatever I seem to fancy, and comment on interesting, humorous and meaningful post I think are worthwhile.

 

How will you survive without it?

It’s been two weeks (approaching the third now), and strangely I don’t miss it. To be frank it’s a massive relief to not have that burden on my shoulders. I had between 300 and 400 friends. It sounds like a helluva lot. Surely some of them will begin to wonder what happened to me

To demonstrate the amount people care…only 3 of my 300 hundred odd got back to me in person and asked why I had shut down my account. Yep, you heard me. Only three. I’m assuming some of my friends didn’t notice, while others simply thought I had deleted them as a friend. (Technically one confronted me in person, while the other two were phone calls – but hey a phone call is a little more intimate that a five-sentence email with bad spelling.)

Not even some of my work colleagues (some of whom I have a fairly close relationship with) noticed I had deleted my Facebook account. I find this interesting, the amount of value people place on the online world, when in real life those people aren’t really your friends. They’re simply monkeys behind the keyboard ready to entertain you with interesting links, demotivationals, 4Chan posts, and tedious 9gag humor.

Good for them I’ll take the harder road and allow my soul to grow in other avenues. So would you be ready to delete your social networking accounts? Give me your thoughts…

 

PhilosopherPoet

 

crossing

crossing.

pump

he clasps the handle
a thin sliver of soupy fuel
surges

background murmurs plague
his consciousness like sharp tendrils
crying through the clear face
a fallen wine
glass once had

there are no veins in his head
a usual pulsing area
pallid grave
potent humor
pungent sweat
playing ditties into
the velvet dress of the atmosphere
arrives by chance in the ochre hue
she calls melody

he wishes for water
or even the simple allure of nectar
which might free the puerile spirits
stalking petroleum
vigor locked
clasped
engaged with the duty to point
his nozzle to another garrulous motor
sucking in the sunlight
perforated people
fuel injected five year olds
and a simple silver barrel
gleaming in his hands.

 

PhilosopherPoet

Selling uncomfortable silence

Apart from the dull hiss of pop music oozing through the speakers at work, and the regimental stare from my half-used coffee cup…nothing else is happening. I feel that when you leave something long enough in one place, it begins to stare. It’s almost as if you forgot it was there, and now it’s silence is baring down on your neck. Most people ignore the character that forms around your office implements. Most people ignore most things.

 

It’s sobering to see how most people amble along without looking carefully at the things they are saying. At the moment I’m a salesman. Plenty of times I see people remarking “I bet they sell like hot cakes.” Now, this is where I stop and pause. Have you ever gone to the bakery and asked for a hot cake? In fact have you met someone who has come out of the bakery raving about there hot cake they just bought. I’ve seen people queue outside a store for the latest Harry Potter book…never for a hot cake. They must be somewhere since everyone is talking about them.

 

Very rarely do we stop to examine the  words we’re using. Why is that? Perhaps it’s exhausting. I suppose the real reason is it will in turn make us start to question who we are. The minute you start to question yourself and your own motives, things become a little scary. Are we a product of what we talk about? Words are vehicles that help us make friends, get through school, get through our first job interview, loose friends, lie to our colleagues and betray others.

 

I’m a salesman, and talking is part of my day. When someone inquires about a product I naturally question their needs, then once I get a feel for them I continue onto my general sales pitch. I have to be careful, sometimes I’ll side with one product over the other if I feel it’s going to win over the customer. Words are the tool I use to earn money, the more persuasive the more I sell…the more money I make.

 

Tonight I did feel a sting of regret though I must be honest. Every odd night I see the last minute customer who rush breathless to our doors once we have closed them. There was a middle-aged man who rushed to our doors tonight. He was dressed in a mediocre way. A signal I always look out for which tells me (most of the time) how much money the customer is willing to spend.

 

He explained to me (through tremendous gulps of air) that he was leaving the country tomorrow morning and desperately needed our one adapter we sold. Like many other people before him I turned him down, explaining that the shopping centre would fine us, if we continued to trade after hours. I saw the pain and desperation in his face, the look like life was about to fade away into a plughole. I felt like a snob. Selfish. I was a young working class kid, who wanted to get home after the long day and didn’t care a thing about him.

 

That is most likely a better way of looking in on yourself. Like many other uncomfortable feelings, I tucked it under the carpet that stores other dirty memories.

 

PhilosopherPoet

Those living on the fringe

If you know me well, you may be aware that I listen to a hefty amount of heavy metal. Despite the sensitive poet I can be at times, if you were to catch a glimpse of me in the early morning. You may notice me prancing around the house like a hairy Barbarian.

Most people battle to understand the genre at all, and simply label it as evil. The reason I’m drawn to it, is it attracts that seemingly small group of people living on the fringe of society. I love that. I’m fascinated by extremes that are around us and the “freaks” it gives birth to. I’m the type of person that lives in my head, I can sit for hours on end sometimes watching a couple or a group of kids interact. The novelist in me, will then try and build up a storyline based solely on their appearance.

So my history with heavy metal is a fairly short and succinct one. I once remarked to a friend, “The only reason I like this music, is I wanted to piss off my parents as a teenager. A started listening to this music, and then it started growing on me.” Despite my wry comment, there’s more to it than just projecting your anger on to others.

In my short time with the genre. Metalheads:

• feel the need to be different.
• love the arts.
• are highly creative.
• have the tendency to be heavy drinkers and/or drug users.
• are misunderstood.
• are highly talented musicians, or close friends with them.
• piss off the general public (although once you get to know them they’re probably more loyal to you than your own dog.)

All the above is true for a number of reasons. I’ll leave you to do the thinking, instead let me debunk a few misguided opinions.

Why all the screaming? What’s the point of listening to music if you can’t hear all the words?

If you listen to music only for the words then you don’t really understand music. I think the reason most people point out the fact that the words aren’t recognizable, is because it’s one the first thing that jars a first-time listener. When your favorite song comes on the radio, you sing along to the chorus (i.e. the most catchy part of the song). The actual meaning behind the words, or the storyline isn’t apparent to you (unless you’ve really done your homework).

What makes metalheads unique is the fact that most of us study the lyrics. We spend hours reading them, and often when we go to gigs we’ll be singing along to the lyrics while they are performed. If you fail to believe me…go ask any seasoned metalhead about songs like Iron Maiden – Number of the Beast, Slayer – Raining Blood, Metallica – Master of Puppets. They might not know the entire song, but they’ll belch out a damn fine chorus.

That music is Satanic. Anyone that uses a pentagram worships the Devil.

Let’s face it, most of us metalheads listen to it for an outward reaction, initially. If you were to do some research, and pool all us headbangers together…only about 3% of us (if that) are “worshipping Lucifer” in our free time. Those who are really serious about it, won’t let you know either. My father spent some time counseling hardcore Satanists as a school teacher…and his remark was that the plain clothes people are the serious concerns to society.

If you’ve ever worn your favorite soccer shirt on the eve of a big game, that same feeling is what metalheads promote. I was in a queue in MacDonald’s the other day (dressed in work uniform), and the metalhead who was served after me saw my pentagram ring and said to me “I see we’re part of the same tribe.”

If I start listening to metal, I’ll end up dirty, badly-dressed, an alcoholic and a drug user.

The media is never a great guide when following popular culture. Journalists thrive on bad news, simply because fear sells papers better than warm feelings. It’s a sad truth. There are those who choose to ‘loose themselves’ in chemicals, but perhaps they need to start journeying into themselves, and learning the patterns in their own psyche?

Calling all metalheads alcoholics, is the same as saying that every guitarist will end up like Kurt Cobain. It’s that fair? I highly doubt it.

Metalheads are angry and pissed off with life. What’s the matter with being happy?

Pissed off and angry is one way of looking at it. We’re honest about the dark side. Most people are afraid to journey there. If I didn’t have metal with me, while I was a depressed teenager perhaps I would’ve committed suicide. If anything a large part of the culture has a never-say-die attitude about it. There’s a freedom to persevere and continue on.

Musicians who have committed suicide, want the easy way out. Living life and surviving, is far more difficult than ending it all. If you’re taking the easy road, you’re not learning anything. Like I mentioned earlier, the image and anger is just an exterior…once you know us we’re your friend for life!

 

Image List:

http://Trellia.deviantart.com/art/Goth-Type-15-The-Metalhead-50905521

http://khos-prinz.deviantart.com/art/metalhead-62727039

http://TheWolfess.deviantart.com/art/Metalhead-201277266

 http://LorjanaLucic.deviantart.com/art/Metalhead-I-186581337

 http://katedeannn.deviantart.com/art/Metalhead-207301467

 

 

PhilosopherPoet

Images from a poet

Hey bloggers

Here are some photos of a good blogging buddy I thought I’d share.

For those who are interested here is the link: Inside The Mind of a Lunatic

 

PhilosopherPoet

 

Jason Friedman|Why work doesn’t happen at work

http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf

Collection SNL Tina Fey Sarah Palin Joe Biden Queen Latifah…

plastic I & plastic II

plastic I

tonight while i cook
i look into
hannah’s faded face
with her flaking fingers
she clings onto that
microphone full of grit
and glamor
- so the critics say

she’s getting old now
the flowery spotlight
drowns the echoes of
female essence floating
through her clothes

she’s a singer now
my dad told me once that
yesterday’s heroes only
eat the bread that
certain slivers
of society bake
in their unconscious oven

i wash the dishes and
my hands graze hannah’s
supple neck and muffle
her laminated lips

perhaps it’s time i buy
a new radio with
a round volume dial
that can cloak the chime
of adolescent deejays

and allow me to sleep
for a few more minutes

 

*             *             *

 

plastic II

he stood in the store
her plastic arms
baking under
the neon breath
of color and customers

her poise is natural
the eyes soak in the clammy fingers
that slice each benjamin out
of their iron wallets

she stands as a model
almost
except for the giddy boys
they reach beneath
her copper eyes and wrestle
the wrinkles in her speech

when the shop is silent
she is bathed in the dark
treacle of ghosts
the soda soft light falls
onto her hair and pries a laugh
out of her pixel thin lips

at night she is still there
her shoulders are the scaffolding
we use to build paper pyramids
of gleaming gadgets

she will only smile at us
once we’ve exhausted our
flavorant filled bodies
still digesting more mounds
of cardboard coffee

we’ll sit by
that same fountain outside
with its necklace of birds
its giddy sun dancing in the
spurts of water
and feel our skin become
warm again

 

PhilosopherPoet

the workers prayer

Hey Bloggers

I must be honest it’s been ages since I’ve posted anything. The reason for this is that I’ve been in between moving house twice, and well as being employed in a full time capacity in my job. Anyway, I’ve decided to include a few poems I’ve managed to scribble down lately

the workers’ prayer

caffeine is my Shepherd i shall want
in the days when melancholy
covers me in its thick skin
and conjures up a conscience

i shall fear no evil
when i have sugar flowing
through my veins
my mouth will ramble on
like a child’s fingers
that fumble with the
wrapping of an exuberant toy
(writhing in the box)

the coffee beans and silver spoon
shall surely comfort me
all the days of my life

at four a.m. all you hear is
the cry of my kettle
the giddy ideas
punching
thumping
bruising
consuming
the holes in the keyboard

this mantra is the fuel
and stickiness that binds me
to the kiss of my Muse
she scampers out of the bed
(ahead of me)
washing the dishes
wresting the kettle
picking out the knots
(in yesterday’s events)

its time i smile and guffaw
maybe even frolic
in the gumption of Real Life
eating half my toast
slamming his fingers
to the beat of the clock

this morning the latte
cried a little when i slammed
its cap on too early
it leaves a small scar in the
center of my tie
i look at during work
between the pulse of my ballpoint
drawing fast cartoons
in the margin of minutes
where

clipped culture
freshly pressed men
remind me of the reluctant steam
creeping out
of today’s baked car tires
all chanting the workers’ prayer

 

 

PhilosopherPoet