I wish Facebook wasn’t invented. There have probably been a million articles and blog posts written about how terrible modern society is with all their Googles and Tweets and iPhones… I know it’s all been there and done that but I’m going to do it anyway, I need to get this off my chest.
Facebook is the ultimate form of evil. It’s so awful. It’s worse than Voldemort, or Cruella De Ville, or standing on an upturned power plug, or undercooked bacon. It’s boring. It’s invasive. It’s addictive. It’s shouting in my face all day and I actually have no interest in what it has to tell me. But it’s taken over my life. I probably could easily go without it (I do know some people who hyperventilate if they don’t refresh the page every hour), but I don’t want to. It’s my window to the world. I’ve considered several times just deleting my account and using the good old fashioned T.e.l.e.p.h.o.n.e. I often find myself hovering over the delete button… “Are you sure you would like to deactivate your account?” … no I’m not sure… abort abort!
I remember, so very clearly, in 2005 when MySpace ruled the world and nobody knew about Facebook. Myspace was the SHIT. You could write your own HTML in the dialogue boxes to make your own backgrounds and layouts and fonts and gifs all over the place and it was serious business. You had to make sure you wrote your own and didn’t copy and paste it from a template because everyone could tell.
And then, Facebook peeped it’s blue little head above the interweb surface and suddenly “Add me on facebook!”, “I searched for you but couldn’t find you on Facebook!”, “Whats your username so I can add you on Facebook?”, “Have you tagged me in those photos on Facebook?” et ceteraaaa… I didn’t want to betray MySpace, I thought I could hold out and stay Facebook-clean forever but eventually I succumbed to the pressure of being excluded from the gang. I waited until everyone else had deserted the MySpace club and I was left all alone until I followed the crowd and created my FB account. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t like the name of it. I didn’t like that name of it is saying STALK ME STALK ME. Face. Book. Really? BookFace. Alphabetical. Catchier.
This weird level of social media is now so deeply ingrained in modern life that it’s a normal part of every day routine. You meet a new friend, you ask for their full name so you can add them to your friend’s list and can do a bit of stalking through their photos and see if they have better holidays than you. Is it normal to ask for a stranger’s full name? And Linked In.. another weird one. I pride myself in having a pretty awesomely written CV but I don’t want all my previous employers sniffing around and seeing what I’m saying about them. I’m a pretty private person and this is another place where my history is judged and personality invaded.
What happened to the good ol’ days when you remembered all your friend’s phone numbers off the top of your head? And those numbers were landlines and you had to wait until the evening when you knew they’d be home before you called? And there was nothing there to say there was a missed call - you just had to try your luck.
Gone are those days. I think I’m born in the wrong era. I would fare well as a dope smoking tree hugger fighting for world peace and free speech, rocking out to Hendrix, creating innovative art movements, travelling across the country with my campervan and guitar stumbling in and out of people’s lives, and all that free love wouldn’t go to waste either. But all that is for another blog, another time.
My heart melts over these two
One of my favourites <3
(Source: fishel)
So usually I try and keep this blog somewhere around the “intellectual sophisticated” label… but just got to let this one slip. There’s something wrong with you if you don’t appreciate it.
(Source: fuckyeahmcgosling)
Never gets old
I say nothing. This is beyond me.
I spent my afternoon today procrastinating researching in to freelance writer’s presence on Tumblr. Instead of discovering where I’m going wrong, and writing up a deeply analytical post about why I’m destined to be a failure as a writer, I ended up stumbling across this most mesmerising 24 minutes and 45 seconds ever.
Make sure you’re sitting comfortably before you click play - you won’t want to pause it.
Thanks Matthew Allard.
Xx
Too good to really be true.
Department of Eagles - In Ear Park
Morning Tumblr! Today we’re celebrating World autism awareness day with our Monday morning post. In the last two decades there has been a steady increase in the prevalence of autism globally. Some people talk of it as an epidemic, with statistics estimating as many as one in 100 people are affected. We have a series of photographs are of students at the MacIntyre residential school in Wingrave, Buckinghamshire, for young people with severe learning disabilities, including autism. Reblog to make more people aware of autism.
I wish we had enough snow to do something like this! I tried to make a life size bear once and it was a total fail. I did the hind legs and the belly and I ran out of snow. England, you’re rubbish.
I love looking at the peaks and dips in Soundcloud tracks, wondering what magic is lurking inside…
I have been short sighted ever since I can remember. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t get up in the morning and need to put on my glasses to put on my socks and make a cup of tea. The one thing that isn’t lost though is the colour saturation. I can see full blooming colours all around me and they’re even more beautiful and alive when the light refraction causes all the lines and shapes to overlap.
When I try and explain to others what I see, it’s quite difficult to describe how my vague shadows and colours are interpreted to become solid contours of an object. I like to compare it to listening to a beautiful foreign language you don’t understand.
I love the sound of Swedish. I can hear the peaks and dips of a sentence forming, I can hear the tone, I can hear the punctuation and I love the way it feels, but I can’t follow the translation. The words are there but like through frosted glass.
Pistachio
