I've been called pessimistic and cynical for a long time and I never understood that, I always saw myself as an optimist who believed in the value of individuals. I still do, but I guess I can see where they're coming from a bit more now. I realized as I used the "next blog" function on blogger and began to think about my impressions of different blogs and why I thought that about them. There was a clear distinction between what I liked and what annoyed me, without much middle ground at all.
Most blogs annoyed me because of all the bright colour and gaudy patterns and a sort of monotone happiness that seemed almost stretch or forced; not necessarily fake, but only showing the parts of the truth that were most acceptable to show. They talk about things which interest them but which very little personal information is passed in. Blogging is a very... intimate mode of communication. What's the point of making another cooking or knitting blog unless you put yourself into it? People don't look to blogs for recipes, they look to blogs because they're written by a person and carry their perspective and feelings.
I like blogs which are twisted, dark, depressing, ethereal, stark, different, manic, personal, deep, and DIVERSE. They're more real, more meaningful, more powerful. No one feels happy all of the time, and when they do it's not and shouldn't be FLAT, it should carry an energy and a vibrancy to it and have it's own sort of music. It is something that's disgraced when it's put on. And when you aren't happy, hiding it and talking about trivialities and overusing smileys to cover the gigantic hole where you are supposed to be... well, I don't like that. I like it when people share who they are unapologetically.
Those were my initial thoughts, but the meanings in them took a while to hit. I have no natural reason to think they way I do that I can think of. Why do their monotone happinesses (?)seem so unnatural to me? I hate other people's pain, I'd erase all of it if I could. Yet, I find that while everyone else turns away from pain, I turn toward it. I guess that's good, it's easier to fight something you're facing, but that's not the reason I think I see. A reason I've been living my life with little regard for my own happiness.
Seriously, Why the fuck do I find pain beautiful?
This may surprise you, but I'm the same way. On a more broader scale, I keep likening back to Moliere's "le Misanthrope" as an example: it's preferable to have truth, even if it's harsh, than to have a false, smoothed over happiness. I think darkness is something you have to embrace as who you are, even as you're constantly fighting it. This might just be me, but I think you need to know what it is to suffer before you can really appreciate what you have that makes you happy.
ReplyDeleteAt the same time, just because somebody tries to put on a happy face isn't inherently bad. Some people aren't comfortable sharing themselves with the world, and sometimes it's a tonic to just try to be strong and go on, even if you're falling apart inside.
Mind, some people really are that vapidly happy, and as they say, "ignorance is bliss."
I think part of why we find suffering attractive (don't worry, it's not just you) is because it strengthens us, gives us something to overcome. One of the themes in literature (Bytton's "The Coming Race," H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine) - which itself relies on having conflict for a good story - is that, in the absence of having anything to fight against, humanity will inevitably degrade and devolve into flat cattle.
Also, I think happiness, true happiness - the kind that buoys you up and makes you want to sing and dance and spin across the floor, that makes every moment of life a note thrumming in that perfect intonation - I think true happiness is something you have to earn, you can't just pretend to have it.