My Auntie Su lived with us until I was ten years old. She played the Cello and we shared a bedroom until she got married and left. The papery tones of the stringed instrument are irrevocably tied to my memories of growing up in Sydney and to her.
I remember the Jacqueline Du Pre records she used to play, the sounds of her tuning the strings and playing Bach to get warmed up. The familiarity I felt with the sound of it never really left. To this day, I don't think I can walk past cello music without feeling a little nostalgic and possibly even teary. If I didn't get along with my Aunt, or if she were different to who she is, I imagine the feelings would be different.
I have to be a bit careful because I love the mournful stuff so much - pop, rock, classical, opera, novels, films... I just seem to be attracted to that soft focused, quietly sad, low frequency stuff. And it makes me maudlin if I let it. I think that's why I like Du Pre best of all - she even plays Saint Saens with barely held back joy.
I present to you, one of my most favourite of the Du Pre interpretations:
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
I Quit FaceBook
I finally did it.
I. Quit. FaceBook.
The decision was actually more of a process. I had been wanting to get off for ages, and had toyed with multiple deactivations and even asked family members to change my password a few times so I couldn't log in. Then the dreaded 'fear of missing out' would take hold and I would log back in to see what everyone had to contribute.
I would describe it as being akin to getting yourself psyched for a drastic haircut. You toy with the idea, lifting up your long hair in front of mirrors, wondering what it would look like if it was all gone. You think of your cute friends who have cut their hair short and are in various stages of regrowth and cuteness. You look at photos of celebrities with short hair because, of course, your look will be the same after the chop. Similarly, I was inspired by the few (okay, TWO) friends who had sworn off the book of faces. They seemed to be fine, doing great even.
So I began to disengage my online world from FaceBook as a first step. I used it to log into Spotify, the uni library and a few apps. Nothing I was completely attached to though, just mildly annoyed that I couldn't find everyone on Quizup. I saved all the data. I got photos I wanted. I sent messages to let close friends know and got email addresses and birthdays which hadn't been noted. And I flipped the switch.
I'm in the two week probationary window as we speak, so apparently, I could log in right now and it would be like I never left.
But that's not going to happen. It's not that my life is spectacularly better now, or I can attest to some life altering, mind-shifting difference. It's just that, FaceBook was quickly becoming a burden to my thankfulness and that is a truly happiness sapping and selfish place to be. Gratitude for the perfectly wonderful life you have, with all of it's problems and joys, is really difficult when you have the highlights of everyone else's life thrown at you.
Even the joy of shoving my own good fortune or highlight in everyone else's face was a false pleasure. I'll shamefully admit that when I was a younger girl, an amazing status update (if I say so myself) which was accidentally posted as 'private' caused some confusion and disappointment until I realised what had happened. Why wasn't anyone 'liking' my post? How come no-one was posting comments? The whole day, I would check and feel a bit bemused. That, my friends, illustrates exactly what was wrong with the relationship I had with FaceBook. I was outwardly and consciously uncaring of anyone's approval, but obviously needing it; wanting it; unequivocally! on the inside. Getting acknowledgement and affirmation from FaceBook is probably not advisable for a healthy internal life.
I know plenty of people have completely a completely normal and sane existence on social media. I, being a hyper-thinker, was devoting way too much time to it: pondering everyone's updates; pondering my own updates; stalking. This was all kinds of time wastage and no good.
It's only been a minute, so I'm not entirely sure this will work out, particularly with overseas trips in the works. I mean, I lose history in a sense. I lose a great tool to connect with my loved ones everywhere. What if I'm never invited to anything? And this is all very irrational. I'll be fine. I don't even have to write up the arguments against this stuff because you know it.
And that's what this blog is for. I get the extra space to give those who actually give a rats to explain rather than announce. Well, i get the choice, don't I? And you don't have to be here if you don't want to, out of some misguided acquaintance obligation. So here's to grabbing the chance at an incremental increase in the quality of life at the cost of convenience and no regrets at all.
Song of the moment: Sting - When we dance
I. Quit. FaceBook.
The decision was actually more of a process. I had been wanting to get off for ages, and had toyed with multiple deactivations and even asked family members to change my password a few times so I couldn't log in. Then the dreaded 'fear of missing out' would take hold and I would log back in to see what everyone had to contribute.
I would describe it as being akin to getting yourself psyched for a drastic haircut. You toy with the idea, lifting up your long hair in front of mirrors, wondering what it would look like if it was all gone. You think of your cute friends who have cut their hair short and are in various stages of regrowth and cuteness. You look at photos of celebrities with short hair because, of course, your look will be the same after the chop. Similarly, I was inspired by the few (okay, TWO) friends who had sworn off the book of faces. They seemed to be fine, doing great even.
So I began to disengage my online world from FaceBook as a first step. I used it to log into Spotify, the uni library and a few apps. Nothing I was completely attached to though, just mildly annoyed that I couldn't find everyone on Quizup. I saved all the data. I got photos I wanted. I sent messages to let close friends know and got email addresses and birthdays which hadn't been noted. And I flipped the switch.
I'm in the two week probationary window as we speak, so apparently, I could log in right now and it would be like I never left.
But that's not going to happen. It's not that my life is spectacularly better now, or I can attest to some life altering, mind-shifting difference. It's just that, FaceBook was quickly becoming a burden to my thankfulness and that is a truly happiness sapping and selfish place to be. Gratitude for the perfectly wonderful life you have, with all of it's problems and joys, is really difficult when you have the highlights of everyone else's life thrown at you.
Even the joy of shoving my own good fortune or highlight in everyone else's face was a false pleasure. I'll shamefully admit that when I was a younger girl, an amazing status update (if I say so myself) which was accidentally posted as 'private' caused some confusion and disappointment until I realised what had happened. Why wasn't anyone 'liking' my post? How come no-one was posting comments? The whole day, I would check and feel a bit bemused. That, my friends, illustrates exactly what was wrong with the relationship I had with FaceBook. I was outwardly and consciously uncaring of anyone's approval, but obviously needing it; wanting it; unequivocally! on the inside. Getting acknowledgement and affirmation from FaceBook is probably not advisable for a healthy internal life.
I know plenty of people have completely a completely normal and sane existence on social media. I, being a hyper-thinker, was devoting way too much time to it: pondering everyone's updates; pondering my own updates; stalking. This was all kinds of time wastage and no good.
It's only been a minute, so I'm not entirely sure this will work out, particularly with overseas trips in the works. I mean, I lose history in a sense. I lose a great tool to connect with my loved ones everywhere. What if I'm never invited to anything? And this is all very irrational. I'll be fine. I don't even have to write up the arguments against this stuff because you know it.
And that's what this blog is for. I get the extra space to give those who actually give a rats to explain rather than announce. Well, i get the choice, don't I? And you don't have to be here if you don't want to, out of some misguided acquaintance obligation. So here's to grabbing the chance at an incremental increase in the quality of life at the cost of convenience and no regrets at all.
Song of the moment: Sting - When we dance
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