A while back I was texting a compliment to someone I had just met. In my mind I thought I had gone one step beyond the usual niceties I bestowed upon female friends and companions and I thought the text back would be something along the lines of " Ped, you are such an amazing guy, you are by far the best, the most intelligent, the most incredible person I have ever met in my life". To my surprise, though. the response was: "you are very pleasant too"!
Of course, there are many ways to interpret this response. One would be that my expression of admiration wasn't as out there as I thought it was. Two, that her expression of admiration was really out there from her perspective, three, that she was just too tired to be creative or, four, that I should stop trying to be romantic.
It is this last option that truly bothers me. Anyone who knows me also knows how much I enjoy classic movies from back when kisses were not wet, actors went method to say their lines, and no one pushed anyone on the kitchen table unless they intended to make an Omelette. Since I steal most of my lines from these movies I expected the response I got to be as method and Omelettey as the one I usually see in those movies. I wanted there to be a method to their Omelette. And therein lies the problem.
Comparing an age of just released "talkies" with an age of instant communication is just wrong. The message, the messenger and the medium are all a function of each other. You express things differently in a two page letter that takes two weeks to reach its intended reader than in a grammatically massacred one liner that is immediately read by someone. This is when emoticon replaces emotion, smiley replaces facial expression and a abbreviated XOXO replaces a warm embrace. This is when love is downloaded and feelings uploaded; when one's mind crashes under the weight of its never-truly-lived memories and reality is rebooted at the slightest hint of discomfort. This is when we, these new comers to the age of global reach struggle to reach those a few blocks away. This is when the weight and meaning inherent and latent in each word has been decapitated, decimated and deactivated.
O you nano seconds of emotion, how fast you've been deleted. O you digital display of emoticons, so perfect on a high resolution screen, how fast you've been archived.
So the lesson I should learn here is that I have to stop living my life in black and white void of any colour and sound. I am no Cary Grant, and even if I were, no one knows who he was anymore. I am not running after a train in a dark and misty station, with men in brim hats in the background, while waving to my sweat heart. No, why bother when I can type "BRB", and problem solved. I may have issues with emoticons but you have to admit there are many more emoticons than the actual emotions your facial muscles can express. I may feel sad but I can still LOL because, let's face it, who's going to hear you anyway? The words may be decimated but from afar I can seem like a wizard with auto-correct and spell check.
Come to think of it, in many ways this represents an added advantage to me. I could never serenade, even after voice lessons. I never sent any roses to anyone but now I can copy and paste its image in my emails; it is much cheaper (and probably more environmentally friendly anyway). I won't duel anyone to death to get to the woman I desire, that would objectify women and portray them as second class citizens. Besides I am pretty sure now that would be considered first degree murder and, though I did fencing in university, you can't really kill anyone with those Sabres anyhow.
Funny how one realizes he may not, after all, be who he thought he was. Who am I to criticize those texting decimated sentences and decapitated words with their context deactivated through the virtual digital universe, when it makes so many happy? Who am I to laugh at nano seconds of emotions when it is magnified by the numbers it reaches?
So I bid you farewell classical romanticism. This is my last homage to you. As much as your are dear to me and I admire your mannerism and eloquence, you have never been there for me. I still love you from afar but your belong to a past I have never been part of. You may have spent many sleepless nights in Seattle but I've had my share of insomnia in Toronto, Tehran, Barcelona. You could never guess who was coming for dinner and I could never have my breakfast at Tiffany's. My hat off to you, if I had one, for all the characters and images you instilled in me. But I have grown out of you. I want to text without context and measure my happiness with "likes". I won't just run north or northwest, I want to be everywhere. I want to add and delete as I please and live vicariously though these nano-seconds of non-emotion; maybe virtual, but every byte as real.
Of course, there are many ways to interpret this response. One would be that my expression of admiration wasn't as out there as I thought it was. Two, that her expression of admiration was really out there from her perspective, three, that she was just too tired to be creative or, four, that I should stop trying to be romantic.
 |
| A Method To Their Omelette |
Comparing an age of just released "talkies" with an age of instant communication is just wrong. The message, the messenger and the medium are all a function of each other. You express things differently in a two page letter that takes two weeks to reach its intended reader than in a grammatically massacred one liner that is immediately read by someone. This is when emoticon replaces emotion, smiley replaces facial expression and a abbreviated XOXO replaces a warm embrace. This is when love is downloaded and feelings uploaded; when one's mind crashes under the weight of its never-truly-lived memories and reality is rebooted at the slightest hint of discomfort. This is when we, these new comers to the age of global reach struggle to reach those a few blocks away. This is when the weight and meaning inherent and latent in each word has been decapitated, decimated and deactivated.
O you nano seconds of emotion, how fast you've been deleted. O you digital display of emoticons, so perfect on a high resolution screen, how fast you've been archived.
So the lesson I should learn here is that I have to stop living my life in black and white void of any colour and sound. I am no Cary Grant, and even if I were, no one knows who he was anymore. I am not running after a train in a dark and misty station, with men in brim hats in the background, while waving to my sweat heart. No, why bother when I can type "BRB", and problem solved. I may have issues with emoticons but you have to admit there are many more emoticons than the actual emotions your facial muscles can express. I may feel sad but I can still LOL because, let's face it, who's going to hear you anyway? The words may be decimated but from afar I can seem like a wizard with auto-correct and spell check.
Come to think of it, in many ways this represents an added advantage to me. I could never serenade, even after voice lessons. I never sent any roses to anyone but now I can copy and paste its image in my emails; it is much cheaper (and probably more environmentally friendly anyway). I won't duel anyone to death to get to the woman I desire, that would objectify women and portray them as second class citizens. Besides I am pretty sure now that would be considered first degree murder and, though I did fencing in university, you can't really kill anyone with those Sabres anyhow.
Funny how one realizes he may not, after all, be who he thought he was. Who am I to criticize those texting decimated sentences and decapitated words with their context deactivated through the virtual digital universe, when it makes so many happy? Who am I to laugh at nano seconds of emotions when it is magnified by the numbers it reaches?
So I bid you farewell classical romanticism. This is my last homage to you. As much as your are dear to me and I admire your mannerism and eloquence, you have never been there for me. I still love you from afar but your belong to a past I have never been part of. You may have spent many sleepless nights in Seattle but I've had my share of insomnia in Toronto, Tehran, Barcelona. You could never guess who was coming for dinner and I could never have my breakfast at Tiffany's. My hat off to you, if I had one, for all the characters and images you instilled in me. But I have grown out of you. I want to text without context and measure my happiness with "likes". I won't just run north or northwest, I want to be everywhere. I want to add and delete as I please and live vicariously though these nano-seconds of non-emotion; maybe virtual, but every byte as real.
