There are frequent moments when I question this online life; where I wonder what point there is in sharing my thoughts and ideas with people I can’t see, don’t know, and who don’t know me from Mother Mary.
Write anything in an online arena, like a news blog, or social networking site, and guaranteed there will be people who totally take it the wrong way, no matter what it is I’m trying to say.
In a face-to-face situation, I have backup – subtle body language, intonation, eye contact – all able to help translate the words coming out of my mouth and sit them in the right context and setting.
Friends, with the added benefit of their intimate knowledge of me and the colours that make up me, are even more able to easily pinpoint the context of my words.
Lately I’m acutely aware that being misunderstood brings me major pain and discomfort. I don’t like it when things I say online are taken the wrong way; when I try to convey one thing, and someone sees something altogether unholy and foreign instead.
To be misunderstood – one of the greatest causes of human frustration, no?
I’m not talking about writing I put any kind of thought into – I’m talking about random rants, quick snatches from my brainstem, thoughts on the fly.
It has seriously got me thinking about my other writing though. Fuck, I aint nowhere near what anyone could class as ‘a writer’, but I’m definitely going to need to work on perfecting the art of threading context, tone, and subconscious meaning through the weave of my written words in the future, if I want to avoid the nasty business of feeling like I’m writing in Mandarin to an audience only fluent in Spanish.
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