dichotomy

i woke up one saturday morning, after a big bad friday night, and decided to write a blog in friendster. strange enough, i didn't know what to say. after much deliberation, i realised that i had a mental block because i was thinking of all those people i had in my friendster list. people from all corners and milestones of my life. and i realised that i was policing my thoughts because of the possibility of all these people reading my blog. so, i ended up with a rant. this is what i wrote.

Zen and the art of blogging

my first blog. first words to be reverberated across the world wide web. they'll never come back to me. echoes are only formed when there are barriers to the soundwaves we create. and if the world wide web is really as infinite as they say, they'll never come back to me.

nonsense.

you'll never know who's reading your blog, forming the barriers of your reverberations and transmitting them into a gazillion directions. interesting. microscopic analysis? or sheer paranoia? but what forms the barriers of words, and your thoughts, as you think about what to type into this white space in front of you? can i say that my neighbour looks like a mutant bullfrog and still be able to look him in the eyes with a cheery "good morning!"?

americans can do that. easily. freedom of speech has probably inculcated an overly-projected sense of pride in their personal words and opinions without feeling shame or guilt towards anyone. (here's where i am feeling the reverberations of my words echo through the star-spangled barriers of the world wide web.) not in our asian culture though. our culture is based on a sense of propriety, where everything we do has to be right and proper. we shouldn't say that your "yee shook" is a dirty old man even though you've seen him prowling the lorongs of geylang on one of your late night supper sessions. that's because he's your uncle, he's your elder, he's your auntie's wife, and your cousins' father. propriety keeps us in our places, and holds our tongue, and so the dirty linen will always be half-dried in the damp, musky basement.

so what goes into a blog? the art of balance? the art of withholding your opinions without sacrificing the ability to formulate your character and a distinct sense of self in the world wide community? how often do you police your words when you're faced with a blank space to scribble and write anything and everything you want?

maybe i am over-analysing the situation. blogging isn't just about opinions. you can turn it into an online diary for your friends who are overseas. including those whom you've never met, and profess to be a sexy 21 year old nymph when they're actually a drunken red-neck lookin for some fun. ok, i'm kiddin. forgive my sardonic humour. it's probably the alcohol from the previous night talking right now. i'll be nicer in a few hours.

well, blogging can be fun. and i don't deny that artists with immense bursts of creativity can turn a blog into a beautiful and sensory experience for those who are keen to take a walk down their aisle. if i could publish my own website, (and i don't mean this one cos this is just a convenient third arm that suddenly extended from my friendster page) i would want a constantly morphing site, themes, ideas, senses. but that, really, wouldn't be executable within my means. cos i am just a writer, the only software i know how to use is microsoft word. and internet explorer.

so i'll leave blogging to the experts. until i can figure out the time and thoughts, and skills, to put a speck of myself on the face of the world wide web.

but why would i wanna do that? right?!?!

sounds like a complete smokescreen eh? no one will ever know that i'm a closet blogger! in twenty minutes, i had turned myself into a hypocrite and created an incredible dichotomy in my life. perhaps it was my doppelganger speaking. yes! that's what it was... the halo'd devil appeared and took over the control of my fingers. perfect.

and so my friends, the horn'd angel is back.