Don’t ask how far over the bridge I had to hang to take this picture in low light without a flash. I snapped it at 3:33 a.m. I’m not sure why I love this picture so much. I’m still on a long walk across Fayetteville. The U of A was gorgeous with both beautiful buildings and homes surrounding it. It’s a different experience at that hour, with strategically placed lights that disappear in the day. The crescent moon watched me as I navigated through places I should not have gone thanks to the road construction on West Maple.
Because I did not plan my route, the series of hills made me breathe harder than an octogenarian watching Dancing With The Stars. When I made my way back north, the breeze was a godsend. I was sweatier than JD Vance at a La-Z-Boy auction.
Another beautiful walk. I’m not home yet because I overestimated the arc of how far south I went. The incessant buzz of insects keeps me company as I wander.
Every new shiny place I passed was originally something else. Sometimes it clicks what those buildings used to be. 10 years ago. 50 years ago. I’m not sure whether these buildings are more historical than I am.
On a recent friend’s post, people seemed to agree with “Social media destroys friendships.”
Do you mean to say, much like telephones did when they were introduced? Or computers?
Blaming technology is a vacuous accusation.
Social media is problematic because people do not use it in the same way that they hold conversations in their living rooms.
Much for the same reason, when people enter vehicles, it adds a layer of impersonal anonymity. That’s why people do and say things that they most likely wouldn’t do in person. It leads to road rage. Cursing. Aggressive behavior.
Social media gives people the power to reveal themselves. It does not create problems out of thin air. It strips back the ignorance we have about the things the people we know believe. It reveals resentment and anger hidden below the surface. It gives access to rudeness and poorly planned responses. That behavior is the responsibility of each person who engages in it. It does not fall on the outlet of expression we use as social media.
Social media is a virtual living room and the modern town square. Personally, I treat mine like my living room. If you go to my pages, you don’t see hostility. That’s because I don’t typically engage in it, and it’s not welcome in my virtual space.
If, however, I visit a page or website that’s not mine, I expect it to look and sound exactly like our society. If you are expecting kumbaya in content outside of your control, you should probably take a dosage of reality pills. People in groups are crass and argumentative. Logic is not the presiding factor. But people are also creative, compassionate, and informative. If you judge one portion of social media without consideration for the other, you’re missing the point.
If you gather a group of people, you’re going to hear a huge variety of opinions, interests, and hobbies. You’ll see people whispering to each other if they’re having conversations about other people. Uncle Larry is going to say something racist. Someone will likely show up drinking – and you know darn well they aren’t going to behave. Others will attempt to hog the conversation or say outrageous things for the reasons that people say and do those things. Social media works the same way.
Social media did not become massively popular by accident. It is the result of our individual choice and vote to use our precious time and energy engaging with it.
Social media does not destroy friendships. People do. One crass comment at a time.
People who focus exclusively on the negative aspects of social media ignore the power and beauty of collective expression. It’s easy to dial in to cynicism and hate. These aspects of social media are exactly what people exploit when they have agendas.
Each of us has tools to limit our exposure to things we don’t want to see. It works exactly like a TV guide. We can ignore platforms, programs, and the stations we choose. I don’t get angry because MTV has cooking shows. I scroll past it. I roll my eyes at what some people say, just as I expect them to roll their eyes or get pissy when they see mine.
If you’re looking at content from your friends, family, and acquaintances that makes you angry, it might be better to take a second look at who they are, how they behave, and what they believe. Act accordingly. They are revealing themselves. And while it might frustrate you, you at least have a means to see what occupies their thoughts and time.
Social media is what you make it. You can’t control collective communication. But you can control your exposure and how you choose to use it.
Social media per se is not the problem. It is us. All the defects and things about it that you do not enjoy are a reflection of our society.
Social media is exactly like alcoholism. Alcoholics falsely like to claim that their behavior is the result of drinking. It’s not. Alcohol removes their inhibitions and their control regarding what’s already in their heads. It is not a creator. It is a revelator.
After the Pennsylvania trip, I took a roll of 35mm film from 1977 to Walgreens to send through Fujifilm to be developed. The mystery of what might be on it enthralled me. No one working had seen an undeveloped roll of film that old. Walgreen never contacted me so today after work I went to inquire.
I paid almost $10 for the packet. As I walked to the car, fingers crossed, I opened the packet. Inside was a cd without prints. It turns out that the roll of film had been exposed to some sort of radiation that rendered the prints to all look exactly the same. That’s the picture attached to this post.
While the outcome was disappointing, it was worth the time and money, given what COULD have been on the film.
We’ll never know.
But for a while, I was hopeful and excited about the idea of the unknown.
I’m no fan of photography, but I do love pictures. Over the years, I became so tired of people’s reluctance to have their pictures taken. I was once a fan of guerilla photography or in-the-moment shots. Digital transformed the world. I could take endless pictures without concern for staging, lighting, speed, or detail. Except the one consequence that emerged was people’s reluctance to have their pictures taken. I let it dampen my enthusiasm and slowly stopped enjoying the attempt. People do have the right to express displeasure at having their photos taken. But. I don’t understand it. They want to curate, approve, or control their image. The weird thing about it is the element of control. These same people walk around all day, and people see them in all manner of contortions and situations. They are in view, observed, and noted hundreds of times a day without the slightest possibility of them being able to reduce, filter, or affect it. Most of us are in countless passive surveillance videos and camera shots. We’ve become mostly blind to it. At the heart of it all? If someone is taking a picture of you, it’s overwhelmingly because they know you, like you, love you, and want to capture a small slice of you, captured in time and place. Everyone has a camera in their pocket now. I shake my head at the fact that so many want to take pictures of other people and yet recoil if the urge is reciprocal in others. It’s becoming unhealthy – that urge to curate. As for me, I might not love some of the pictures taken of me, but all of them ARE me in whatever moment is captured. I relish it when anyone wants a picture of me. Not because of vanity… (because I’m not George Clooney). Rather, because it demonstrates interest. I’ve lost almost all my aversion to worrying about how pictures of me look. I miss the days when I could snap a photo of any moment filled with the people around me. Because no matter how you think you look, you are still you twenty-four hours a day. The fact that a picture is being taken is a testament to your presence in life. It is bewildering to me in an age of constant surveillance that people strive so hard to control their own curation. Let it be, let it flow, and feel appreciated. Photography isn’t accusation. It’s a frozen moment in time of how you really look. It isn’t intended to provoke an identity crisis. Relax. We all see you as you all day. Love, X
Though it was cold and blustery after work, I walked alongside the store and around the back. I walked too fast down the steep concrete culvert. The leaves slipped under my feet and reminded me that I couldn’t fly. Had I fallen into the dirty water, I would have laughed. It wouldn’t have affected my day. My victory was that I resisted jumping from the lip of the culvert to the cart; I wanted to.
Although the picture contains garbage, it was a moment of beauty for me. A single bird flew to the broken fence and hollered toward me. I took out my phone to take a picture. The bird flew above me and away.
I don’t blame anyone for seeing only garbage. That’s where the observer in us filters what we see. The blue of the discarded shopping cart sitting derelict in the water was much more vibrant than it appeared.
The day started with sublimated subduedness for me. I’m not accustomed to that.
The 21st is the shortest day of the year for us.
I look out the window, past my cat atop the cat castle, and see the purplish-hued prism swinging in the wind. Behind it, the sun already sliding below the horizon.
Yesterday, I thought I was in line for free pizza. Much to my surprise, I turned out to be in the voting line. I’m not sure I trust a world in which I’m able to vote. This time, despite dropping my license behind the table and next to the window (where it was almost unreachable), I relentlessly repeated my name and address as if I were being interrogated. I’ve voted early for so many cycles that I forgot how different it is to vote on the actual day.
I voted at Sequoyah UM Church. It was fast and efficient. Remarkably so. Whoever is in charge there did an outstanding job. Other than letting a couple of loons on the ballot. Whenever I see obviously unqualified candidates, much less fringe ones, I remind myself that maybe I, too, could get elected without much sense or qualifications.
Don’t worry about my vote counting. I am still so liberal that I might as well be voting in Finland as in Arkansas.
After voting, I wandered the back half of the property. It was not well-maintained, but I had some moments of beauty walking back there. The weather was uncharacteristically warm and calm for November. It was odd to sit on the benches in front of the rudimentary cross, feeling the sun filter through the trees and listening to the birds sing. Not too far away, the hectic comings and goings of voters might as well have been a mile away. It was a contemplative place, one that I alone owned for several minutes. I admit that it was a bit strange thinking that the ballot contained an initiative for religious freedom; it’s obvious that the intent is anything but motivated by freedom. Had I been in that mindset, I’m sure I could have felt the presence of a creator in those trees and on those benches. Please don’t fault me for not feeling such a presence. It was sufficient to be there, seeing the beautiful world around me.
When I walked across the dilapidated bridge walkway and emerged from the trees, a man exiting the voting place asked me what was back there.
“Five minutes of peace if you search for it.” I smiled.
“I’m in a hurry, but I’d really like to see.”
“You only live once. Just tell them a crazy guy at the church where you voted told you to take a moment.”
He laughed. “Deal! They will believe that.”
As I walked toward my car on the opposite end and side of the building, I turned to see him traverse the wooden bridge and disappear behind the treeline.
I’m certain he found something worthwhile back there. . . I rendered myself transparent in the picture because I felt a little other-worldly in the retreat behind the trees.
I took this picture of the moon this morning. I didn’t add any effects. It’s just my lesser camera making its own version of reality. Just like each of us does. Especially on Monday when we put on our work persona and head off to do the things that are repetitive and to pay the bills.
Vemödalen. If you’re not familiar with this word from the dictionary of obscure sorrows… It encapsulates the fear that everything’s already been done, every word is already been said, and every human experience, perspective, and photo has already been taken.
It’s okay to look up at the moon and attempt to capture the moment.
What a delight it is to watch two small children scampering in this heavy rain. They are squealing with happiness. But I’m also confused because they’re wearing raincoats! .
A couple of social media friends inadvertently asked me to do something hilarious with the original photo. Instead, I had a moment imagining the morning. This is what I wrote and created:
The “Wake up!” shouted in her dream brought her instantly to consciousness. She stared at the small red aura of the clock in her peripheral vision for a few seconds.
It had been her own voice in her dream. She drove with her companion as he hung his head out the window, smelling the water and watching the scenery pass. She fumbled with her phone long enough to snap a picture of the moment. In her dream, she experienced a series of overlapping moments, each one of her through the course of her life. The last one was a picture she’d happily snapped one hundred and twenty-three days ago. She slowed the car as she came to a stop. The images flowed backward across time, carrying her from adulthood back to her infancy. The reversal repeated, bringing nostalgia and appreciation for the moment – and for all the moments she’d lived.
As the dream faded and its grip loosened, she wondered what it meant and what the day might hold. She smiled secretly as she lay in the shadows of the morning.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 