So if I don’t have a “real life”, what do I have? Am I dead?

Forgive me friend, but… 😦

… I’ve just read an entry here on wordpress making me pissed off, frankly. I got the same anger exactly one year ago. Because the blogger had the same entry published back then…

He say “Unlike so many “netizens” who inhabit the virtual world, I have a real life – a life filled with daughters, family and real “friends”.

To me “netizen” is a patronizing word. And here it is used by a person very active on internet, publishing a lot of poems and prose. I found that noteworthy. Because I too give my blog much time and I know how much work one single entry can take. So here we have a (… ) denying what he has become with the years? A vivid writer. In the internet world.

And “of course” I google the word “netizens” to see if “it is just me” being annoyed with this word. I found this article from 2013:

… But there’s one term that I cannot stand, a term that I, normally a flexible sort of guy, simply refuse to use. That term is “netizen.” You’ve probably seen it around: Mainstream newspapers and magazines use “netizen” liberally, usually without explanation. And, despite occasional pushback— (…) —“netizen” lives on. I understand this, I really do. I understand that netizen sounds better than “internet user,” (…) it’s time to get rid of “netizen.” It’s inaccurate, obsolete, and outdated—the verbal equivalent of an East German phone book. 

🙂 Yes!! Yes!! At least one more think like me! 🙂 (In this world!)

the quote from: theatlantic.com/china/archive/2013/09/enough-with-the-word-netizen/279969/

I thought this comparison with  “East German phone Book” was so funny I almost forgot to be angry more – an instantly I thought about to rapidly go to bed –  before my huge internet appetite got me googling more, now  on East German phone Books... But maybe that quoted the writer invented that phrase? A creative mind!

Yes! I live my life on Internet! But back to that about  “real life” and what it might be!

I am a single person, living with a cat only and I spend all my day from breakfast to late nights at my laptop, reading and writing – and that is then by definition of (one of) my most faithful reader is not having a “real life” – so I might be dead then? I just don’t know about it?

 

 

 

But what is a real life then? To this man’s definition it is apparently to have relationships and emotional bonds with other people. Nothing wrong with that definition, this concept is what certainly gives the individual a feeling of satisfactory meaning with the own life.

But I would rather call it to be happy than “having a real life”.

There are people who scares me. Yes! Like some people who seriously claims the meaning or goal with your personal life is to be or become happy. I really loathe that kind of “wise” declarations! Yes, I do!

Who the fuck wants to be happy?! Not me, thank you very much!

How many poems or love songs do you think would be written if people would fuss around like happy fools? No please, put that smile away, develop your creativeness  – and sing a blues now and when if it chafes in the soul. Really!

It happens I some time still thinks about my former neighbour. When it comes to this subject “a real life”. He was a middle-aged and very fat man living alone in the same staircase as I still live. He was afraid for people and like froze to a statue or run away if he met anyone – like in the stairs, in or out. I didn’t call the landlord when the strong odor of death came into the stairs. The young couple on third floor did. He lived and died alone. It took weeks to air out the smell of his dead body from the stairs. I still think of him sometimes or of homeless people or of the beggars from Romania at the Supermarkets nearby my home. I think of all them people every time I hear or read the phrase “real life”. An I think of myself. What is that? “A real life”? Was it not a real life he had, my former neighbour? Is it not a real they have, the people begging outside “my” grocery shops? Is my life not “real”?

Yes, what is a “real life” I  wonder pretty often – just because the phrase actually exist. It is obvious I don’t have this luxury of a real life – either. So what am I? Am I dead? Or just a sad spot on the ground?

Well dead people don’t eat and take a shit, so I might not be dead. I suffer from a demanding  fibromyalgia and I have diabetes and high blood pressure. So at least my body is not dead, crying for my attention and care. And forgive my haughtiness, but I think my intellect is pretty good and lively too!

I’m more humble when it comes to have a view about what “life” may be about, especially when it come to others lives. I think every life have its meaning, we may just not see it by eye.

So many of us never come even close to our fully potentials. We never got the love, the friends, the children, the honors, the money or the fame we might deserves and desired. We just have this limited life in the hand. And we just have to respect it. Oh, it is true! Sometimes I’m fed up with “everything” and call my life a “a shit life”  – but then I come to my senses and accept things like they are. It could be worse, I could have been born to be Donald Trump!

Further more, from what I recall from earlier years reading, developmental psychologists say that we would never grow to mature people with common sense without going through frustrations. (In proper doses at the right time.)

Well, well … But now I think I’ve come a little bit from the opening on this post! So I simply leave it to tell you about my project right now (as chained to my laptop not having a “real life”);) hahaha…. 😀

I  have lately got and interest in  a musician named Eddie Hinton. Not much is written about him, I find some fragments of statements from different artists here and there. It is hard to find his lyrics too, so I must listen for hours to him and write the words down the best I can.

He was a man who was lost – when it came to private life. I’ve read a couple of music writers pity him, seemingly want to see him as some kind of victim: as  never becoming “famous” and rich… or whatever!

Those kind of writers asks naively “why, he was such a nice guy”. No, he was not!He was an alcoholic and a drug addict with mental problems and scary and unpredictable and violent outbursts. His own mother had to pitch him out on the street! He was unable to live a normal life with jobs, family and friends and all that.  But he was an artist one of the kind as a songwriter, a musician and  a singer. I like him, Eddie!

 

 

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This entry was posted in create life, inspiring music, inspiring picture, inspiring songs, living in the world, loneliness, loss, morality, online friends, poems by vonnely, relationships, repression and borders, web papers, with or without you, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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