...and all that jazz!

I've been thinking about this word lately, community! Do I live in a community? I'd say of course, but on second thought I don't really think so, I think we live in some strange reality where posting embarrassing personal crap for the whole world to see is accepted behavior, but smiling and saying good morning to a stranger is downright weird!

Not that I really mind the internets, I actually kinda love it, but I guess it's a love/hate relationship.
On the one hand I have made some fantastic friends, friends that I don't really know, people who's blogs I've been reading for more years then I care to count. These people are kindred spirits, a reassuring reminder that I'm not alone with my crazy thoughts and absurd ideas. I am better for 'knowing' these people, they make me laugh and they help me cry and this clears the air in my private breathing space somehow!
And yet, I can't help but feel anxious about the lack of actual physical interaction, something which, for me, does not come naturally at the best of times, let alone when I live solely through the computer, especially because I tend to be more of a reader then a writer.
I did start this extended sentence with 'on the one hand' so here's the other hand, why does every communication panel, like facebook and twitter and stuff ultimately change into a shitfest of some sort. Something that starts as an excellent venue for staying in touch somehow morfs into this slandering, gossiping, product-plugging labyrinth of funny cat videos, which also somehow becomes the only way to communicate with friends and family, if your not there you're stuck in the square and can't get out!

I know this post has quickly turned into some sort of anti internet thing, but actually this is my attempt at communicating my frustration with the lack of community in my immediate surroundings.
For some reason, we interpret everything as a competition, nobody helps his fellow man anymore. I don't understand this, doesn't my survival depend on yours, isn't it in my interest to help you survive, I help you, so that you help me, because I helped you to help me, so that I'd help you.......

This is especially true in my little country, and apparently extraordinarily so in my chosen career. For some reason everybody is copying everybody else and nobody dares tell anyone about their ideas. Makes sense, naturally I went to art school so that I could copy others, it has nothing to do with MY creativity or a need to express what's in MY head.
Seriously, wouldn't it be much better to share our great ideas and help each other, I could help you realize your dream and then I could count on you to help me get some of my dreams out there! We could totally benefit from this, There is such an opportunity for growth and development, but noooo, don't you dare ask what I am making, don't show interest, don't even fucking smile, you weirdo!

Bleh, I totally suck at expressing myself, there are all these thoughts rattling around in my brain, so much I want to do, live responsively, be mindful, recycle, help my neighbour, SAVETHEWORLD, frack, small steps, right, right?

overhaulage!

Sometimes it's just so strange, and basically fucked up to be a human being. Not to mention actually taking proper care of yourself. I know that trying to find yourself is the most outdated lame thing ever, but that seems to be what I am continuously trying to do! I feel like I am still the 19 year old I was over a decade ago, a decade is a long bloody time to mostly lose, you know what I mean, I was there and then all of a sudden I was here and now!

Lately I've been sinking uncomfortably far into my old depression hole, and I really don't have time for that shit! After sinking far too deep I managed to haul myself out, apparently despite my enormous self-destructive shoulder devil, I actually have survival instincts. For the first bloody time I realized and I mean realized, not just knew or read about or was told, that I am my own master, I am in charge and it happens to be pretty much up to me what happens in my life! (oh wow, how many self-help book seekers are accidentally going to find this shit). Absolute ages ago I found out that yoga does for me what xanax does, and then some. However, because I am a total eejit, I think about the yoga, then I don't do it, then I feel guilty, then I start beating myself up about it and leather, rinse repeat until I drown in self loathing and pity.
So, this is what I'm doing, yoga every day, sometimes little sometimes a lot but always some, this is the first priority and it means that I am putting myself first, before boy, before Z, before work, this works in the manner of putting the gas mask on your own mug before attending to your child!