I blog.
I could say, “I'm a blogger” and that's true too, but I'm also a son, a brother, a co-worker, a lover and a friend. I'm all of these things, but not completely any of these things. I have parents and siblings; I work with people; I love someone; and I am glad to call a number of people my friends.
But I blog. This everyone knows. And I've been blogging regularly for the past… while. I don't keep track.
The Hollowness of Being A Computing Student.
It's uncomfortable. I don't mind admitting this, and since I've already my made my confessions about the veracity of my statements on this medium, I don't need to enlighten you about the truth in this statement. But yes, I find the notion that I've returned to regular blogging to be… uncomfortable.
I was trained in Computing Science, and I graduated with a degree in Business Information Systems. Before beginning my training, I was obsessed with computers — so much so that my father had to enforce what seemed, at that time, punitive measures against me abusing my time on the computer. I was a computer geek, as anyone could have seen, and everyone knew I wanted to work with computers when I left secondary school.
Several years of feeling like I was being trained for nothing but computer and software repair, and I've somewhat revised my view. Part of it stemmed from the fact that Malaysian tertiary education, frankly, is terrible; it was outdated, slow, old-fashioned and tedious, and I did not feel what my parents described as being educated and illuminated; only the sinking suspicion that I was merely being trained.
Post Coitum Omne Animal Tristis Est
It always felt like I was missing something, even though I felt overwhelmed at the new things that were being crammed in my head. Useful things, no doubt, but like a person who spent his life anticipating and desiring something, and, after having done it, realizing that it was not as spectacular as I had imagined it, I realized that I wanted something more than this.
So I changed my mode of study, and eschewed computers. When I unplug myself, either voluntarily or by the cruel sisters, Fate, Line Quality and Crappy Customer Service, I did not experience the panic or the emptiness most bloggers I know seem to describe. I felt… free.
Without the Internet, I found I could do more; not because of the materials I had, but because of the lack of distraction.
Any Choice But The Choice of Walking Away.
Like a man who loses extensive, infintely useful toolbox, and was left with naught but a pen-knife, I realized I could do more with a penknife than I could imagine, simply because my choices became clear.
But that hasn't happened of late; mainly because I haven't had the chance. When I work, I am, by necessity, connected to the Internet. When I am home, out of a desire to distract myself and unwind, I find myself on the Internet. The only times when I'm not wired is when I'm with friends, or family, or by myself, away from the umbillical cord that connects me to the big Wide Wired World.
I'm missing that clarity. I want it back.
(post inspired by this).
