The Tweet of Life

I watched a film yesterday. Terrence Malicks 2011 film The Tree of Life to be specific. My subsequent review posted on Getglue this afternoon went like this:

"What a stunning film. Watching it is what i imagine it feels like to be hypnotised. Regressing into childhood memories and the awareness that these experiences, interactions and relationships both with other human beings and our physical environment make us who we are. A beautiful visual and audible presentation of the human condition and our constant struggle to break through the pressures/demands of an enclosed individual life to a broader realisation that we are part of something much bigger, and our short time here should be spent making the most of those we love. Cinematic philosophy at its provoking and engaging best."

Since i got home from work today i imagine 80%ish of my evening has been spent, or more aptly 'wasted', staring at a screen. After surfing/wading (how bizarre that we so often compare the internet to an 'ocean', and yet no two experiences could be further apart) across various pages of mindless drivel on my phone, i turned on my laptop to 'pin' some 'interests' on Pinterest, followed by a brief bout of facebook stalking, then eventually landed on Blogger and got very frustrated about a pages/tabs issue that couldn't be more irrelevant to my life.

Occasionally, Andy looked at me and smiled. I smiled tightly back; all the while my insides were screaming 'don't try to communicate with me i'm busy'. Then i stopped... and noticed myself... and thought about the film.

I wondered when i last laughed, which thankfully was earlier this evening, and then why i was so uptight. I thought about what screens have done to human communication, ironically under the guise of improving it... and what communication actually is and what it means to us. It is, or should be, a lot more than the transference of flat visual symbols across a measureless faceless digital space. Faceless.. facebook.. hm. A book of faces. Quite disturbing really when you think about it. By this method, human communication could continue forever with no two individuals actually meeting in the flesh. This is a long debated, tired, worn issue, which perhaps makes me sound old before my time; someone who won't accept the benefits of our increasingly techno-electro world. This isn't the case. But from my own personal experience, screens tend to absorb and consume -  identity, life, time, restricting our awareness of, experience of and interaction with others and the world around us. I think, the crux of it is, i need to get out more. Not in a social sense (i do enough of that), but in a living sense, in a 'take a walk in the countryside, breathe, and be aware' sense.

Before writing this, i went to Andy for a cuddle in the full knowledge of my crablike behaviour this evening. I don't want a pixelated version of me, i want a red-blooded, living, laughing, crying, 4d version of me, who is there for those around me and takes the time to truly know them. I know a lot of self-absorbed people, and none of the best ones are. So my mid-June resolution is to step outside of myself and my screen a little more (she says, whilst looking at a screen), and to appreciate the vibrant, present world around me. Admittedly, it is raining right now, and this train of thought was inspired by a film...

Ah well, life is full of contradictions.. taking a moment or two out to acknowledge these thoughts is a healthy process. Unlike the process going on in my tummy after a whole pizza and huge chunk of banana bread this evening. I will attempt to steer clear of screens on holiday in Devon next week and hopefully return with a clear mind and slightly less bagged and bloodshot eyes.

As a new compatriot of mine would say... toodlepip.

A small insomniac stone

Drawn to the screen
like a moth
to a cool slick flame.
Scarring is inevitable.

Apprehension

Fog tendrils linger
and creep
soften jagged thoughts
smother
and cool
raw bruised tissue.
Slow black descent
in scented nothing.
Breathe.
Do you think this is safety?
Then fall
deep
uncertain
lost
alone

The Virgin Post

How frustrating it can be to develop a fear of words. I suppose that's what writer's block is really, a deep fear of inadequacy. That you don't have the mental organisation and intelligence to order words in a fashion that will express your thoughts clearly and accurately to a reader. I have started so many blogs, all anonymous, including this one to an extent, because i fear the judgements my words will provoke. All wordless, because i'm afraid that my words won't reach a high enough level of coherence, wit, poignancy. I feel that when i commit 'my' words to a page they enter into a world of assessment and competition in which i'm found lacking in some nameless, colourless, faceless measure of value.

Perhaps this is one thing my degree has taken away from me. Years of being trained to strive for a particular level of analytical clarity and complexity. Every word is important in its significance to the end goal. What happened to superfluous playful rhythmic sensual words that flow fall flux in fluid motion like the rise and fall of breath beat of heart palpable waves of emotion. I have lost this, i have lost the me in my words. I don't write a diary anymore, only the occasional meaningless Facebook status update or Twitter comment. I want something more from words. I want them to be mine... to embrace my voice and carry pieces of it by whatever means through time place and form. I want those small moments of life, love, emotion... feeling, to be made timeless in writing and to flow like blood through word shaped pieces of me. My plan is to re-build my relationship with words, and in the process i hope that i will come to know myself better. This blog may be another failed attempt at diarising, or it may grow into a collection of word-shaped pebbles of sound and silence that play the tune of a thing called me. We shall see.