Livejournal update: September 20th, 2006
“as i drove by a colorful, inviting car dealership today on my way home from school,
i saw one of the balloons that had been attached to a vehicle simply detach itself.
i watched as the bright yellow balloon floated fast away from the one object that held it down.
i could not turn my eyes away, noticing that it was the only balloon to spring away from the rest, in such a fashion that would catch the attention of an entire highway.
in that moment, i wished nothing more than to be that balloon.
…because no matter how pretty a site it was to see the many colorful balloons attached to brand new, shiny cars, and no matter how perfectly fit that balloon seemed to be, that balloon was intelligent enough, quick enough, and strong enough to break free when it desperatley needed to.
i need to pull through.”
I love and hate tumblr…but mostly hate.
After four years, it still is just a substitute for my Livejournal.
I love that Tumblr is here and I love that I can search tags easily. But I hate reblogging. I despise the way that it’s become a mere distraction for what I really want to say.
Reading back through my old livejournal entries, I was a complete open book to anyone who cared to read. Much of it is difficult to get through now because some of it is overwhelmingly honest and earnest, but I was young and green. Still very self-aware, however, and it’s so interesting to return to the archives and read not only my very blatant honesty about every experience and emotion I was undergoing, but also the support group that I found in my friend’s comments.
We don’t receive that here. We drown out our most sincere posts with countless ridiculous memes and staged or edited photos of nude bodies. Tumblr mimics the real world in a public social setting…we mask our insecurities with bullshit upon bullshit so we can avoid heaviness or deep personal connection. There is nothing substantial, endearing or rewarding in that.
I miss the connection that we had. Through my keyboard, I would reach with digital arms for any sort of notification that there was a keyboard on the other end, lit up by another person’s electric fingertips.
I don’t feel that here, but certainly, the times move forward. And it’s very possible that I always tried to make this website something that it is not.