Away from the Internet highways
Reading posts of people here feels refreshing. As someone else mentioned before, they write mostly for themselves. There isn't that ulterior motive to get the reader hooked with clickbait titles or feed with some ads. It is like listening to whispers in some disentegrated place, like in OFF game when you wander between the zones. I like this silent invitation to contemplate without disturbing. Guh, at this point my text might feel chiché but I notice many users have a reflection post on what is called the Indie web and how they found this site.
At this moment of all big media I have only a half rotten Instagram account with 5 mediocre photos of city landscapes. I keep it in stupid hope someone from the past could try to reach to me. They don't, but I fail to wait patiently for 30 days for my acount to be erased completely. As for other sites, I left them after being mentally battered by constant FOMO and need (who even invented that?) to stay 'updated' I don't know what about. And that's also the reason I avoid opening Instagram on my phone. It hits me instantly (yeah, Insta, the same root) with nonsense. Look, I don't care somebody shot their face from a tallest Dubai building. I don't give a heck about another INJUSTICE (all in capitals) to leave an angry comment. Anger sells, they say?
The fact BearBlog exists and gathers people is a sprout of the old human web breaking through the concrete of nowadays emotional casino machine. It feels like you're going down the street and many drunkards pull your sleeve trying to blabber their nonsense without any consent or will from your part. I hate it. Or maybe I just grew tired, I am the odd one? My peers look at me like a lunatic when I bring up the concern we're too invested in things and people that don't matter specifically to us. I wasn't always that aware. One of the most pathetic acts from me was like in 2015. There was a French youtuber Farod whose videos were both funny to me and useful to master my colloquial French. I didn't register that was what people call parasocial relationships. I thought it wouldn't be (that) bad to contact him on Facebook to say hi in my mediocre language of Voltaire. He even answered 'Pas de souci, merci bcp' (no problem, thank you very much). It only reinforced my delusional idea I could spam the person I don't know in attempt to have a conversation. Some time later, ashamed, I deleted my messages asking for pardon and promising to never bother him again. He read it, my last message in the empty chat. My gestalt was closed.
I shared this glimpse of my student years to say I was very gullible about the chance to get to other people. I wanted to be seen, accepted, validated. This is a natural part of human psyche that turned the wrong direction. I still love when I get little praise. But I choose healhier ways for that. And sure thing I don't expect now another person to bear hug me because I noticed something cool about them. Like, it's all nice and stuff but my feelings don't indebt them to reciprocate. Now I enjoy my company without turning into a hermit.
In early morning I learnt my colleague had her birthday this day. Maria entered my room and asked without greeting: 'You're free at 10:30? Come to share cake with us!' Within one hour I tried to come up with a present. Good for me most of my templates for online-quests were stocked both on Canva and Google drive. So when I joined the others, plates with treats already set, I forwarded Maria a pdf with the first task. She bravely fought to grab parts of the QR-code put into a weird KFC commercial to glue it together and go further. The chain of tasks ended with an intentionally crappy 'Happy bday!' card like one people share on Whatsapp. She liked it. I patted myself mentally I didn't slack with the quest.
Tomorrow I go the the publishing house, my former employer, to sign another agreement for editor services. It is tiring to have two jobs, but it does pay, and I manage to keep my competence in shape.