trisected

Tag: communication

  • Stories Untold

    There are days like today where I have written too much in my journals. It’s 930am, but I’ve already thought many things, and I’ve processed through a lot. I actually overthink most of the time, and based on some discussions with my counsellor friends, it’s likely stemming from OCD. I scored 12/10 for that, which probably means it’s kinda high.

    I don’t think it’s honesty I’m aiming for, but more to express what I am thinking thoroughly, so it can be understood by myself later. Maybe it comes out as honesty, but I don’t intend the moral attachment of honesty. I also don’t intend for the clinical scientific-ness of objectivity. I just want my thoughts to be heard in a way that remove the viewer’s lens, and replaces it entirely with my own.

    But that’s never possible.

    Therefore, no matter what I write in my journals, or what I write in my blog here, these thoughts will always have a presumption “you will never really understand me”. I still express myself, because it might change the way you view the world. But true understanding? I don’t think that is ever possible between humans.

    We attempt that in so many ways, but there are a million stories, billions, never to be heard or understood by anyone at all. It’s just how life works, and that’s okay. The modern world demands all rights, for all people, but we weren’t all born with a cell phone in hand, or with a voice that would speak across the world. We just have our immediate, and that’s all that really matters. The people within our context will understand our context, and we express within that context.

    We’re trying to live out of our context when we’re misunderstood by the people nearby. The modern world says its okay, but previous generations would kick out the outsider. Hermits, exiles, people who didn’t fit in. They just left. Died with their untold stories, while the majority continued on.

    My balance is to accept that I will never be totally understood, but to share my person as much as I can, so that perhaps my immediate context will understand. But I take the cynical view of never truly being understood. It’s okay. I am happy with being at least half understood at times. We have to take what we can get yeah?

    So do you really need to understand this post? Maybe not.

  • Constantly Communicating

    I feel it, deep inside. This constant communication that we are linked to in the modern day.

    Can you imagine years ago, when the Telephone was first being invented? At that time, the ability to call into your friend’s home must have seemed like a huge invention. And over time, it became a hassle when someone would call you, and you would need to answer, if not the ringing wouldn’t stop.

    And then the emails came along, where we could send a letter, without the need to actually post mail. There would be no post man, and everything would be immediate. What an age! You could share your thoughts, and someone could reply you after that, without you having to wait. But then came along the need to reply, and work emails that we try to hide from as much as we can. Or view receipts, that you turn to to see if your friend or colleague had viewed your mail.

    Two words: Instant Message. That was the end of it. No longer just an email, where there would be some what of a title, and a template to fill. Instead, just straight up what a phone call would be. Your friends live in your pocket. Good or bad? No one really knows, and the self help side of the bookstores lean more on the No than Yes.

    That’s where we are today, with our instant messaging, with our constant communication. I feel it, deep inside me.

    It’s not the pings from my friends that I feel. It’s a mix bag of emotions. I feel as if time runs out whenever I take too long to reply someone. I feel as if I did not think hard enough if I pressed enter too quickly. I feel as if the world needs to know and doesn’t really want to know all at once. But I need to share, to make sure they know, right? I need to use my Mechanical Keyboard, to type a message quickly enough, so that they are aware, and that they Do know.

    Also because typing messages with a mechanical keyboard is Oh So Satisfying. What could go wrong?

    But this constant communication that I feel inside me, makes me feel exposed, dried out. I feel too much, because I keep on going and going.

    And I’m typing this post, so that I’m not offloading this to just one person, or a group of friends, but at least to somewhere constructive, where my verbal rants would matter somehow. Somehow placed into a series of paragraphs that would egg on my constant communication.

    And I guess now, I’m about ready to stop communicating. I hope you would communicate with me, whoever you are, reading this. Just say hi, just because you can. 😀