Truth and Facebook conversations

Surely I’m not the only one tired of those “political” conversations, many that in all fairness should be referred to as social, but politics is a nice dysphemism we use to avoid them when convenient. And with those incredibly useful and thought-provoking conversations we initiate and carry on painful distances, it is rarely not advantageous to escape them.

The thing is you’ll never get it right, but the other person will. You see, you just haven’t read enough or formed your own opinions. Well, perhaps you have read a lot, but only the lies they’ve been telling you. They won’t tell you the truth, someone claims, so they can continue profiting off the situation.

The other thing is that those intellectuals do know where to get their information and how much to get. They know where the reliable sources. They know the lies and the truths like the back of their hand.

Sorry, you lose. Mostly because you end up frustrated and with wasted time behind you.

They, however, are not winners. They lost, too. They didn’t get anything more than a self-congratulatory pat on the back and their ego telling them, “Go get them, champ!”

So, the third thing is: we’re all losers here.

I’m left feeling powerless. I want to know when enough information is enough or what sources are trustworthy, but we have build an empire where distrust reigns. Any small suspicious action and we are ready to claim a source is forever lying to us for whatever Machiavellian intentions they have. Yet, we readily accept and repeat what the charming prince tells us. He’s charming, right? No, he just tells you what you want to hear—the oh so harmfully satisfying confirmation bias.

I know I don’t know enough, but I know I’m tired of all these straw man arguments. Beyond that, I’m tired of knowing you’re behind that screen honestly believing you got it right, that you are the sole—perhaps, if you are that vain—possessor of truth. If only we all had your outstanding, ivy-league-worthy reasoning and research skills.

So, for those Facebook conversations, just run away from them. The leftist with the superiority complex who fills your feed with piles of sensationalist media won’t get it—the pot calling the kettle black? Please, do not even think about replying to that annoyingly, stupidly reductive right winger. They won’t get it, either.

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My birthday anniversary; the 22nd

I turned 22 last Tuesday. Unless we’ve been friends for a long while, you probably didn’t know. My birthday is not on Facebook and I might mention it once or twice throughout the year.

A few years ago when I was in that teenage (a euphemism for stupid) state of my mind when you want to learn who truly cares about you, I deleted my birthday from my Facebook profile. I have not put it back since.

I should probably put it back. I don’t know why as a teenager I expected people to know my birthday; now, I’m sure I don’t expect you to. You have way more important stuff to store in your brain, like elevating lyrics coming from the genius of Kanye West and Nicki Minaj.

Many people want to offer you their best wishes sincerely. Am I taking that chance away from them? It’s probably not a big deal. If it is to you because you’ll have to consistently interact with me in the near future, don’t worry; there is another chance next year.

The week before my birthday I went through all the cards I have people have written for graduations, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, and other less important occurrences. In one of them my dad said I should never say my birthday doesn’t matter, that it is just like any other day. I guess he thought I didn’t care much about it; perhaps that was the time when I wanted to believe I didn’t care.

This year, I cared. I wanted to have a special day, even if it was spent by myself. So, from the night before I decided it would be a great day and I would eat brunch at Bagels & Joe. That much I knew.

From the time I woke up, I felt happy. It was a great day even though nothing had happened yet. And by nothing, I mean nothing (I didn’t wake up to any 12:01 a.m. messages).

After brunch I returned a DVD of Le Nozze di Figaro to the library and tried to figure whether my student account from college had the right figures. I then paid a short visit to the office where I was a student worker for three years. I walked around the Haymarket, spent some time looking at books at Indigo Bridge Books, used my birthday reward from Starbucks to get a flat white (after basically only consuming drip coffee from The Mill for a month), finished reading Jane Glover’s Mozart’s Women (excellent!), and watch The Lobster.

An honorable mention goes to a conversation I had with my friend Stella, who happened to be at Starbucks studying (nerd!) when I got there. If there is something that energizes my soul and takes my mind off self-hatred (an exaggeration perhaps), it is a conversation with an extremely talented person who just needs a little push.

I experienced the daily doses of loneliness, confusion, and fear, but I also experienced beauty as I hadn’t in a while. And I experienced love that felt so present while being far away. The people closest to me (and yet away from me) called and wrote me. They reassured me I am loved, and I love them.

#013 – After Graduation with Slade Lane

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podcastimageAfter a while, a new episode of the podcast is here.This time, Slade is back to talk about life after graduation. We both recently joined the ranks of the unemployed and this change has resulted in many a fearful look at the future. We hereby present our musings on these matters.