Thursday, February 03, 2005

The Life Unexamined

Have you ever hit the "next blog" button, trying to be a vouyer--sneaking a peak into the innermost thoughts of strangers? I wonder what people see when they read mine, a fucked up 20 something who, if the reader is older--looks fondly back on their memories but are happy to be rid of the life filled with angst induced chemical dependencies (alcohol and nicotein, perferably); and if the reader is younger--it becomes a scare straight message--get married, get a boring corporate job, settle down with permanant distractions/legacies that will hopefully live up to what you were never able to do. Hurry, accomplish all this before you are lead astray with temptation that will take you off the path to self-righteousness. And possibly do permanant damage with overdoses of cynacism.

I, unfortunately, have fell into these tempations. This blog chronicles my falls from grace for the readers entertainment. Keeping this in persepctive, I don't feel as guilty when I share the same blog server as the adolescent, "life is meaningless because I just read Neitzsche for the first time." And I don't think the world wants to hear about your crush on the boy in front of you in homeroom...maybe the your friends do, but that shit doesnt even make me laugh.

No, what really gets me are the blogs from fucking cancer patients/sufferers of alzheimers who call their blog like Carpe Diem or some shit like that. Do you know how even more superficial I sound if you are comming from a blog that is supposed to be inspirational...telling you to follow your dreams and tell the people in your life how important they are because, each day may be your last. No, instead you stumble on a blog that talks about vomming in a boys bed, who you met that night, instead of having a steamy hook-up as you intended. Going into work semi-drunk from the night before, recieving dirty text messages from a different boy who the only thing you remeber about him is that he was well dressed. (My GOD he was well dressed, and to a fag hag such as myself...that was fucking hot). Or how about me and my best friend sharing the same guy in a make-out session...

I really feel like shit when I read about these people who use blogging as a way to chronicle their chemo treatment, or to confess how afraid they are of dying.

And I want to say how it puts my my problems with my job, life, school into perspective and I a bad person for saying that it really doesnt? That I am so wrapped up in my own life, that I feel bad for 2.5 secs, think a thought or three...then go back to thinking about sex, clothes, and drinking, (ok throw in some existential philosophy)? But, I think most people are like me but are afraid to admit it, because if everyone was truly touched, there would be an overflow of Hospice volunteers, more people doing outreach to the homeless man who occupies our block, to the shut-in whose relatives conveniently forget to visit--until the will is supposed to be re-drawn. Is the world of blogging just a microcosm of the world in which we continue to build for ourselves?

Shit, that is waaaayyyy to fucking serious. Sorry, I just got back from my first sociology class where, if I may say, I kicked ass. Making the professor draw a blank when I stated the possibility that the genisis of agency/structure in modern sociological theory was so much more than just an outgrowth of criticism bouncing between two schools of thought. That one could not deny the impact of the feminist movement and feminist theory on getting rid of the idea that a person is a victim of their society/mind. Go womyn. Maybe I should start spelling woman womyn in my presentations for our corporate clients. I am sure the corporate companies want to see the remants of a raging feminist.

Can we say, that I am prob not considered the coolest person in my grad class. That is ok, I am a MoHo. We are never the coolest person in anything. Taking classes like the one I am about to embark on reminds me how thankful I am for the education that I recieved with such awsome professors who made my 4 yrs at MHC an intellectual bootcamp.


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