Hypocrisy, Electronics, Love and many other things...

I write this on my laptop, wearing headphones that play music from my smartphone. The room is illuminated by this crude combination of some light bulbs and a ceiling fan. The television is not too far, paused on Season 4, Episode 8 of the show 'Billions'. My siblings are in rooms, surrounding by their own electronics. The entire house is powered, the electricity sings like crickets when the sky is dark. I think back to a tweet of a quote by Bjork, which talks about how human beings' lives are so intertwined with our technologies and inventions that even what may seem 'natural', traditional or old-fashioned is most definitely techno to an animal. The mud huts that we associate with either a fargone period of humanity, or with poverty and 'backwardness,' is most definitely 'techno' to a gorilla. The tweet used such an example. And I think about that and I think about how, like a loser, I have tried to separate myself from technology and electronics, in an effort to return to some mistaken type of naturalness. Human beings are cyborgs now, and maybe it is not in the Teen Titans sense, but to return to a time when we did not depend on our inventions is to go so far back to a time we have no record of. It is impractical, and no one truly wants that.

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Public displays of envy disgust me and, to an extent, even horrify me. I am not too particular about manners and social etiquette but to see someone so clearly covet another's possession or quality inspires hate within me. It reminds me too much of the things in others that I envy, it forces me to recall all the times I hid away in my room, tirelessly comparing myself to whoever I had chosen to obsess over that week. I see myself instead, I feel my shame instead. I see myself for the insecure, inadequate, incompetent, hideous monster who pants and salivates over another's possession or quality that I truly am.

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I stumbled upon a channel on the website 'Are.na' called 'interdependence, compassion and love ethic' and the writings saved under this channel immediately reminded me of how selfish, individualistic and wicked I tend to be, especially to my own family. The channel has writings that advocate for a radical restructuring of society where love and care for one another are prioritised in any sort of decision making. I know that this sounds like what has always been taught to most of us from childhood, but, although this may mainly reflect my personal experience, I feel as though what is taught to children remains as just things taught to children. Growing older has had me witness people discard these teachings in favour of more selfish values, values that ensure that you, as a singular unit separate from everyone else, succeed or are satisfied. A large number of people believe that nothing is more important than their satisfaction. 

    I feel as though anyone can preach that we should all care for one another but few truly mean to give care to everyone indiscriminately.

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Reflecting on the writings in that channel and over thinking somberly one evening in my hotel's reception, I recognised another thing about myself. Funnily, I told myself that I wouldn't write about it, but here I am tapping away on my too slow laptop.

All of a sudden, I don't want to talk about it anymore.

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I was reading the short story Zero:One by Cleo Qian earlier and I really identified with the protagonist, Luna, whose days were like babies all made from one split cell. I don't know why I used that simile, but her days were identical and if you didn't have enough energy to look into the details, you would not be able to differentiate them, you get? Her only joys came from playing dating simulation games and she fell in love with anyone kind and gentle enough. She was thirsty for anything that could hint at love, that could resemble it. 

When she wasn't looking for love in all the places it didn't exist, she was comparing herself to any woman she came close enough to. She describes herself as stiff and awkward, she's aware that she does not have the flair and confidence that other women around seem to have been born with. She's jealous of everyone, they all have traits she doesn't and it is hard to determine if her life is drab and uninteresting because it is reflecting her personality, or if she is the mirror image instead.

Reading the story felt like I was just reading a projection of most of my thoughts. She was so much like me that I wondered if moving away from home would feel just as lonely and empty. I don't know how to wake up in the morning without anticipating anyone to be with me in my home. It doesn't like freedom, it sounds like exile.

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On the topic of loneliness and living with no family or friends at arms reach, I watched the most beautiful movie on my flight to Doha, Riverside Mukolitta. It follows a lanky, passive man who moves to a new and quiet neighbourhood and it seems as though his life is fated to be only the lifeless eyes of squids and soaking in hot water, but all of a sudden he is forced out of his shell and exposed to a wonderful life with the oddest of characters. There is so much light and comfort in this movie and, at the same time, there is so much death. Death is at the centre of all the character's lives and they have their different ways of making peace with it. The movie had me wonder about my future as an adult, about the life I envision for myself and how I would fare with the hardships the characters faced. I pondered on whether I would be able to endure the loneliness experienced by the characters in Zero:One and in Riverside Mukolitta, what I would do if there were no eccentric characters written by an author/playwright to teach me something new? 

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It's so sudden when everywhere becomes serene and peaceful. The song I am listening to is about to end and it is as if her strong voice becomes lighter and my thoughts cease and all the awkwardness and confusing restlessness that filled my day have been banished away. It leaves almost as quick as it comes, but I am thankful for that little bit of peace because it motivated me to write, after three fruitless attempts. I now know what to write about. 

I have things I want to do, things I want to learn, goals I want to achieve and relationships I want to deepen but I do not know how to fulfil any of these desires, and there are no dandelions to wish on and blow my problems away. I am afraid of myself, that I would fail myself the way I always do. I know that it is I who makes the choice, I just never know what to do. I never know. I have never known a thing in my life, I've only ever guessed.

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As always, it is my biggest pleasure to have anyone read whatever thing I write. Thank you for giving my writing a chance.

Yours sincerely, always and forever

M.