Philosophical Conversations with my friends on Twitter (Vol. 1)

I was reminiscing about our very brief session of middle school drinking games on Thursday night, in which a very good friend of mine asked me why my ex and I broke up. And I sighed and I told her exactly what happened, and then I let her comment on how ridiculous it was, and then I delved a little deeper into what I think we did wrong as individuals trying to be a couple. And contrary to when I clung onto T for dear life immediately after we broke up, or when cried into the phone during all of M's lunch break, or when it felt like K was the only glue holding me together, or every single thing I blogged for the next month...it didn't hurt to talk about this. I wasn't actively suppressing any emotions. There was no choking up. I didn't want to cry; in fact, if someone had suggested that this might be too difficult for me to talk about, I would have laughed at them. And I don't think it was just because I was a little drunk.

So, thinking out loud, I tweeted:

It's weird when you're totally over a situation. Last night, [Choosing Pancakes] asked me about something that had me torn to pieces over the summer, and

I could just lay out the facts like it was something that had happened to someone else. I'm not that person who was so hurt anymore. #growth

 And she responded:

@SuchAnAfroholic In one way, that's comforting, but in another way, it worries me that everything becomes ... less meaningful?

And I replied:

I don't think I could function if everything that ever happened to me retained its original meaning throughout time and space.

Could there be "moving on"? Could I "get over it"? I feel like distancing oneself is a necessary component of development and growth.

She said:

but then that makes me feel stupid for feeling things so intensely now, like i'm exaggerating.

And that is so totally, completely, and thoroughly the opposite of how I ever want to make anyone feel that I had to try to remedy it. 

I think that feeling things intensely in the moment is incredibly important. Those kinds of rushes and losing ourselves in things are

the moments we feel most alive and like what we're experiencing matters. It's like we're artists, and those moments are when we're

painting. We get lost in the colors and the strokes and in creating this glorious thing. But when we're done and it's hanging on a

wall somewhere, we have to be able to step back and say, I could have done this differently or next time I'll do this instead. We can

still be proud of our work, but if we stay in that fever of creation forever, will we ever grow as artists? I'm dubious.

 I took a short break to confirm that my extended metaphor was working, then continued:

Then I'll say that, to the best of my understanding, most brilliant art arises out of intensity. But art is expression

in the moment, and an opportunity for communication and reflection once the moment has passed. I don't think it loses significance

from the intense-creative-expressive period to the thinking-reflection period; on the contrary, without a period in which we can view

it somewhat objectively and understand the process and plan what to do next, why would the intensity matter at all? It would be

giving and giving and giving OF ourselves without ever giving back TO ourselves.

She liked my metaphor. I do too, a lot, so I figured I'd share. Also, I would like to formally retract a statement I made when I was still anti-Twitter about 160 characters not being enough to drop knowledge. 

Something Small to Make Me Smile

Reblogged from ThoughtCatalog, which is evidently a place I need to spend more time. Yes, I like to take pictures of myself. Yes, I think I am beautiful. No, I am not [ridiculously] vain. Yes, I do think chillin with my besties is a photo opportunity waiting to happen, even if we're going to the same beach or the same bowling alley week after week. Even if we're chilling in my downstairs bathroom making funny faces in the mirror. Because when we are all old and grey, those moments will be our lives more than will fancy events--we should have it all documented, so we can never forget the small moments. 

I Think We Need More Pictures Of Ourselves

Aug. 6, 2011

By Chelsea Fagan

Chelsea is a student and writer living in Paris.

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You know, I think that we’re doing pretty well as a generation. We’re a little too into instant gratification, maybe, and we may have somewhat entitled expectations for our careers, but I think we’re okay, everything considered. We’ve had to deal with the internet, and given that 95 percent of our population isn’t battling a debilitating porn addiction, I think we can report a pretty decent batting average. That said, though, I think there’s one thing we definitely need some more of: pictures of us in all of our various activities.

Let’s be honest, we’re beautiful. And even if we weren’t, we’re all good enough photo editors to make up for it. There’s nothing that five minutes on Photoshop won’t fix. And when our grandkids ask us one day why all the photos of us are so flawless and well-lit, well, we’ll just tell them that we were gorgeous and jealousy is ugly, shut up.

And it’s not just in the most important or exciting times in our life that we need to be taking more photos. Sure, at our weddings, graduations, or particularly well-attended keggers, the cameras will be at the ready. But for things like going to the movies, sitting in a friend’s room, or trying a new dress on in a changing room, we need to be more vigilant about getting a good shot from every angle. You never know which one is going to make you look that perfect combination of thin and effortless, and you’re gonna want at least two dozen to choose from.

The thing to remember is that you are extremely interesting, and people need to see more of you–of all of us. We should be making more of an effort to document the moments where we’re bored in our rooms and experimenting with how pouty our lips can look on a webcam. If we don’t save these moments, how will anyone know they happened? The idea that people could think that we weren’t savvy or considerate enough to freeze these moments for public enjoyment is a transgression that can no longer be forgiven. We have cameras, we know how to use them, there are no more excuses.

What is most important, in the grand scheme of things, is showing each other how wonderful and fabulous and interesting our lives are. The unexamined life is not worth living, and the un-photographed life is for sociopaths and recluses. Cool people do cool things and take cool pictures of them–just think of celebrities. What do we want from them? Photos of them carrying out their daily minutia. And if we become cool–if we look good, make a lot of acquaintances with money, show up at the right parties–strangers will start taking pictures of us. It’s a beautiful ecosystem of pictures, and you don’t want to be on the bottom of the food chain.

So get out there, take your camera, your camera phone, your webcam, and your insufferable film camera that you will later scan the pictures from like the massive tool you are, and start shooting. Because at the end of the day, if there aren’t 2,000 pictures of you on Facebook, you’re pretty much a pedophile.