The downside of social blogging
Gab, my eldest grandson, wrote an essay about the downside of social blogging. He claims that one enters a make-believe world where everyone you meet seems to be an instant friend so you climb high on a mountaintop, trading stories, jokes, photos, and whatever else you can transport at the touch of the return or enter button.
You know that your monitor doesn’t really, really take you anywhere. You are still at home, in a safe, protected environment. This, however, emboldens you to assume a pseudo, make-believe personality that is totally your exact opposite. You become a Jekyll and Hyde, split into two — the real and the unreal. And that’s where the nightmare may arise.
“The people you meet online aren’t your real friends,” says Gab. “They only show you their good side and heaven knows what they are, in the flesh. Worse, you don’t know their real motives. Everything is one big pretend.” ?
In the meantime, you are cooped up in a room, chatting with them, sometimes using a headphone to block out other sounds, other voices. You skip and miss out on outdoor activities like climbing trees, bicycling, swimming, excursions and picnics, performing with your band, laughing and just being goofy with your parents, siblings and true friends. You become less productive, neglecting to read, write or create something from scratch.
Video games do not really make you any smarter or more alert; they slow you down and rob you of sleep and stamina. ?
But news reporting, sharing blogs, and going online have a lighter side. Take that anchorman who sits at his news desk. He checks the red blinking light. Once it turns to green, he reads the news deftly, aided by a teleprompter or prepared notes. The viewers absorb the news but also go away with a subtle assessment of the broadcaster. Did he come out believable, confident, and self-assured? That depends on the physical nuances he projected before the camera and the impact of his delivery.
?Who could tell that just a few minutes ago, he was caught in a gridlock? He jumped out of the vehicle, making a dash for his dressing room, allowing the makeup girl to retouch his face with barely a split-second window to grab his seat, next to his co-anchor. But whoa! He’s not wearing any pants. (I witnessed, in fact, a producer hastily throwing a nonya sarong at the anchorman, in the absence of a Scottish kilt.)
“Larry, fold your legs under the desk and under no circumstances must you move, from the waist down,” cries the producer.
That’s the advantage of having a well-manned studio whose only job is to catch and project the announcer at his best. No hitch that can’t be remedied by the camera and its aperture. ?
The same farce happens in a video-call conference. “Now, listen! Not a sound, not a peep from any of you. Shhh,” he cautions. “Don’t anyone enter the library and will someone fetch me a shirt and tie? I want my client to believe that I’m holding office at downtown CBD and not from home.” After an hour of discussing business, he logs out and stands up, revealing his boxer shorts and his flip-flops.
“What the!” gasps his wife, “You’re half naked.”
“Honey,” he roars. “What the video eye cannot zoom in, cannot be exposed.” The bona fide circumstances have been conveniently tucked away by the camera.
Gab’s advice: “Look up, admire the skies, search for a rainbow, and turn your gaze around. How much have you missed? Go outdoors and spend it with family and friends — those that you can physically wrap around your arms and touch, hug, tackle or high-five. You’ll never know when time has sped by and you don’t have them in your life anymore.” ??
However, Gab and the rest of my family live time zones away. I have no choice but to keep my gaze down and smile back at this hypnotic monitor. How else can I exchange photos and stories and hear the shrieks and guffaw of my true loves? My family even claims that it’s a great means to locate and track me down.
Don’t forget the swapping of prayers, blessings and amazing music videos, breathtaking sights and artwork, recipes, nifty ideas, and the wow moments.
For my retiring lot, it sure is handy when the keyboard can do all the work, considering that watching a chase scene or an extreme gym workout on the screen is already an energy zapper. ?
So, here goes. When the screen prompts, What’s on your mind? I press like or unlike and draw a happy face. When I’m annoyed or crossed, I press unfriend or block or simply press delete.
It’s easy.
