A story was cooking, pungent smelling about a father on the edge, loosing memory hit with something like Alzheimer. It started well, going backwards, as a daughter struggles to bring back her father from the edge of understanding to life as we know it for whatever of it might be left for them together. It is story which is well..a story, that too an unfinished one, but as my four year old sit by my side, and tells me of a even smaller kid, Garvin in her summer school, while running through the pictures in her storybook, the story seems so real. It could be something like what famed psychologist, Shawn Achor referred to in a wonderful TED talk on positive psychology as medical school syndrome, where in simply on account of being surrounded by so many diseases, one starts believing, one has them. Could it be that when you write about calamities that befall on the character, you somehow start believing yourself to be living through those all those calamities in life, and sometime through your writing you try to find a way out of the maze of misfortune in which the author together with the character he creates?
I have no idea if it was that identification with the character I had written in the half finished story which was coming on to me or vice versa, but somewhere in the middle of all the pressure of results of work that I carry professionally, responsibility of work out goals I had set out for myself nudged by scary medical reports, physically, and the slips in the time I want to give to my family, emotionally, I could see all the miseries of the doomed father of the story descending on to me. Missed EMI were not so alarming as was boarding wrong train, missing my lunch box in the lift, loading out my expense bills and then not being able to locate my debit card even within my wallet, even at the tome when spear heading a complex negotiation at work.
I could see something was wrong, I was on Facebook along side, and it was taxing. I do not know of out was true but it did feel that way. Facebook connects offer companionship without the demands of friendship. But then those demands do stay unfulfilled as virtual expands to engulf the real, on both the sides. The heart, living on the mere crumbs of passive, third person status updates, craves for a full diet of conversation, and with every day of denial, something dies within. Writing killed talk, but still conversation ensued, electronic mail killed considered thought in conversation, but it was still conversation. Then came Facebook, where communication went on the wall and it finally killed conversation, our what was left of it. Conversation is the sharing of facts and feeling with the consideration to the perspective of the recipient, and this alert- ego perspective was lost on the impassive Facebook wall. It made my world lonely, blogs to am extent fills the void, so it stays during my period of abstinance from Facebook, but it sure would be more fulfilling if Likes with single click could be replaced with some comment, giving a semblance of two way conversation to a considered thought. I have therefore resolved to stay off Facebook in the sense of posts, though will blog and post through FB, occasional wishes will go to friends, but will try to at least send mails, instead of likes and pokes. Hope to survive restructuring at work, and physical ailment which might our not have gone away with Facebook abstinence or rationing to be more correct, and emerge as a saner person, with a father better than a bumbling idiot on offer for my daughter when she grows up.
PS. While some may like on FB when I share the post, hope to get some comment on blog and preferably on mail, ssuryesh@gmail.com, for those who might have already forgotten it, so I could wrote back and we could converse.
I have no idea if it was that identification with the character I had written in the half finished story which was coming on to me or vice versa, but somewhere in the middle of all the pressure of results of work that I carry professionally, responsibility of work out goals I had set out for myself nudged by scary medical reports, physically, and the slips in the time I want to give to my family, emotionally, I could see all the miseries of the doomed father of the story descending on to me. Missed EMI were not so alarming as was boarding wrong train, missing my lunch box in the lift, loading out my expense bills and then not being able to locate my debit card even within my wallet, even at the tome when spear heading a complex negotiation at work.
I could see something was wrong, I was on Facebook along side, and it was taxing. I do not know of out was true but it did feel that way. Facebook connects offer companionship without the demands of friendship. But then those demands do stay unfulfilled as virtual expands to engulf the real, on both the sides. The heart, living on the mere crumbs of passive, third person status updates, craves for a full diet of conversation, and with every day of denial, something dies within. Writing killed talk, but still conversation ensued, electronic mail killed considered thought in conversation, but it was still conversation. Then came Facebook, where communication went on the wall and it finally killed conversation, our what was left of it. Conversation is the sharing of facts and feeling with the consideration to the perspective of the recipient, and this alert- ego perspective was lost on the impassive Facebook wall. It made my world lonely, blogs to am extent fills the void, so it stays during my period of abstinance from Facebook, but it sure would be more fulfilling if Likes with single click could be replaced with some comment, giving a semblance of two way conversation to a considered thought. I have therefore resolved to stay off Facebook in the sense of posts, though will blog and post through FB, occasional wishes will go to friends, but will try to at least send mails, instead of likes and pokes. Hope to survive restructuring at work, and physical ailment which might our not have gone away with Facebook abstinence or rationing to be more correct, and emerge as a saner person, with a father better than a bumbling idiot on offer for my daughter when she grows up.
PS. While some may like on FB when I share the post, hope to get some comment on blog and preferably on mail, ssuryesh@gmail.com, for those who might have already forgotten it, so I could wrote back and we could converse.
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