We should make some time...

“A new way of existence? Maybe, but that’s a horrible thought” – shook her head a new friend of mine in a well-crafted response to my first blah-blogging I posted the other day. I was touched by her compelling case that people need to interact instead of competing for attention and friendship on the world wide web (talk about preaching to the choir!). Her epistle was so articulated that I really thought it should be posted…yeah… something like a blog, you know… [sic!].

Anyway, the competition for attention and friendship happens on and off the internet stage and I am not sure it’s necessarily something bad. “Flirting is fun”, casually commented another friend of mine in one of our spur-of-the-moment chats and I realized he couldn’t be more right: whether we take it in its classical meaning (which I guess contains some sexual, or at least some romantic substance), or in a more general, social sense, flirting is a form of human interaction. And I am certainly guilty of it, whether I am doing it consciously or not. You are too. And you like it too. Except when high expectations are set, and the response is not the one you wanted. That’s when we blame the flirting we just enjoyed and suddenly innocent games become broken contracts and failed promises. We forget that no one signed any contract, and no one made any promise. But we like certainties, forgetting that they also mean less freedom. I have learned and I am still learning to enjoy my freedom, and the lack of certainties. I have learned and I am still learning to take life minute by minute, and to enjoy it. I think I have also learned to love those who flirt with me, even if they do it with no promise, and I’ve learned to not ask them to sign the contract that I still tend to sign before they even ask me to. Why not stop drafting those contracts? Why not stop squinting to the fine print in an effort to discover every possible catch in there, and instead look the person in the eyes and see the "fine print" beyond them? And why not take a little risk and tell them what we saw, as wrong as we might be about it?

Somebody might have just taken a first step in doing that, with me.

This morning I went to school and checked, as always, my mailbox: the usual junk, lists with new publications that are supposed to make my teaching insightful (they think) but in fact with the potential of making it more boring (I think); a new issue of a journal that I am probably going to skim frustrated that I don’t have time to read everything but also thinking that time limit is a blessing (not all that stuff is worth reading); another letter tickling my ego by inviting me to apply for an academic job (professional flirt, if you want, so it felt good); and… a card. I am used to getting cards. In the US, people are very nice about giving cards to each other for any occasion, some really saying what they feel, others just contributing to a rather profitable industry. But this one was to be different. Very different! It’s squared - but I’ve seen that before. It’s artsy-modern, with no fancy pictures or design - just a simple text, printed unevenly on the cover. And before I even read that text, I rush to see what’s inside: who said what. But no one said anything. Blank. I turned it over: just the usual credits for the talented artist who created it. Turn again, nothing: just the original printed text. Did somebody drop this new, unwritten-unsigned card, by mistake, in my mailbox? Possibly. But, after reading what it said, I decided it was not a mistake.

So first you forget the rigid traditionalist notions of what is right and what is not – one of the best ways to get my attention, I’m already all eyes and ears! And then you simply say it: “I decided to tell you that I like you”. Forget the cold outside, it’s spring in my soul! I’m probably even ready to go home and groom, act pages, or whatever, but I do realize that this is just mother nature stimulated by the spring in my soul and that, in fact, all I need is to just do the little thing you ask for: make some time… Secluded beach would be perfect, but any other place would do. We could, for instance…

Wake up, Dan! All nice and sweet, but who’s “you”?

I turned the card again on all sides, checked again the folder for a note, nothing…

Hmm. I still hear in the background the little wicked devil of logic saying it could have been a mistake, but I’m already paying much more attention to the images of those that could have secretly tried to tell me something. And even if that card (received by mistake or not) was meant to tell me that someone likes me, it actually made me realize, in fact, how many people I like! I realized how lucky I am to have around people I would always want to rent a movie with, paint some pottery (or paint each other, in some cases), and… ok, what comes next is a bit x-rated the way I imagine it and it might not be appropriate for some audiences, so I’ll stop here. It’s not even important.

All I (and you) need to remember is this: perhaps we should make some time…

The new (b)logic of existence: “I blog, therefore I am”

Now everyone has one. A blog, that is.

Ok, not everyone, just yet, but it looks like we’re getting there. First time I read one it certainly sparked my interest – in a professional way. Most of my work was and is about putting people’s lives and minds under microscope – a nice way to legitimize what was, in fact, one of my natural tendencies: an intense curiosity about people. And here it is, the internet, conveniently serving as a nice comfortable Freudian couch, generating wonderful displays of personalities and lives, asking to be seen, read, or referred to… I always wondered whether the abundant “controlled” free flowing thoughts reflect accurately those who produced them or rather some self-desired identities, but... does it matter? I am pretty sure they also reveal quite well self-rejected existences (and are, in fact, catharctic acts), but I have decided that blogs are not necessarily the diaries that psychotherapists would successfully use to scrutinize the hidden corners of their clients hopes and fears, but rather a new form of communication, a new way of expressing, and why not, a new form of existence. I am sure Descartes would agree with me because he and all those of his sort would have certainly used the blogs, if they had them back then. Many of their works are in fact, some archaic forms of blog. Of better quality, of course, but that’s a different story. I have been though, not once, challenged to think while reading some of those spontaneous writings on the web and many times I felt the need to put my fingers on the keyboard and to let them go crazy…

But I never did - until now. I stayed away from writing a blog because I probably always was, and still am, more interested in a conversation face-to-face (or face-to-faces), coffee or wine included or not. It might be my residual Romanianness that manifests itself into a certain level of conservationism when it comes to digitalizing the human interaction. For a long time I thought that online dating is the saddest expression of the lonely modern lives and not much different than the arranged marriages that we, those who live in “advanced” societies, look at with some mix of condescendence and pity, or at best, pure cluelessness. I finally realized that just like with everything else, there is some logic to all those new manifestations of being human, which are certainly the result of a more structured and socially controlled life, yet not necessarily unnatural, superficial or desperate. They might not work for everyone, or they might work for certain people only at certain times. They are, however, an experience, and as long as one views them as such, I’m in. I just made a profile on the (in)famous Facebook, to the surprise (or even shock) of many of my friends, most of them ready to bring up a crucifix whenever I mention the word. But they are now used to my “unlikely” acts and probably wonder what is going to be my next move. I wish I knew – and that’s just a joke, because I actually like to surprise myself, too. I’ll probably say more about Facebook later, for now I’m just enjoying “becoming friends” with people I already know and communicate by mail, phone, and in person - but why not also add some PDC (if you didn’t figure it out, that’s “Public Display of Communication”). Yes, I am making up words and expressions, that’s a sign that I am becoming more of a blogger. So blog away… it is, at some extent, creative.

Speaking of which - back to the blog (see, although I beginner, I’m quite good with throwing in random thoughts, which is another parameter certifying you are a blogger). It’s not that new. After all, in 2000, when I came to the US, I was writing what one could probably call an “emaillog”, sending to all my friends and family back home my first impressions on the American life. I should post them here (I will). I am sure most of the things I wrote back then would need serious editing to fit my perceptions now, and that’s one of the wonderful pitfalls of a blog: what you write now might not fit at all with the future you. I am sure many bloggers regretted, looking back, some of the things they spilled on the internet. However, it is probably more regretful when we have no record at all of how we understood the world at a certain point in life because we forget, reinterpret, and redefine our stories in a way that fits with whatever we are about in the present moment. So blog away… you can learn from it.

Last, but not least: privacy. Of course an issue. But really? Should I care that some closeted mind will profile me based on my blogged expression of interacting with the world? Sure, there is an imbalance of information, which is usually linked to an imbalance of power. But that’s only if you care about such things. My experience with privacy paranoia (just like any other paranoia) is that the less you worry about it, the less you suffer from it. It’s a trade-off, but I think obsessing on your privacy in order to maintain your freedom is like selling your soul to the devil in order to get your ticket to heaven. I have started my new year with infringing on basic privacy rules, but I had fun with it. So blog away… and enjoy it.

Enough. Blogging about blogging is kind of vicious. But Descartes would be proud of me. Or he's just turning in his grave. One of those.