On The Internet Nobody Knows...

I don't think people should be scared of strangers.

That's the problem with society, we're all too apprehensive of strangers, we're conditioned to believe that people we don't know are out to hurt us. And that's really not the case. Even online, so many of us are frightened to communicate because we're all under the impression that we're speaking to paedophiles or Nigerian scam artists. 

I'm not saying you shouldn't be careful on the internet. Of course you should. The movie "Catfish" and subsequent programmes show just what can happen as a result of misuse of trust on the internet. These people have established relationships with individuals who turn out to be someone extremely different. It's scary to think that you could be chatting with someone who isn't who they say they are- to even develop feelings and strong emotional bonds with a 'character' that's been created.

But what I want to say is that you have to be incredibly naive to fall for some of these people and their stories.

Seriously, if you haven't had a chance to "see" the person, whether they say because their webcam is broke, or they're ill, or just can't for whatever reason- you probably should have some doubts. I remember, at the age of 12, talking on MSN to someone who had added me. They told me they were older than me, probably 15 or something. I asked to see them. They instead showed me a "picture" of themselves. And you know what I done? I googled "cute boy" (or something to that effect) and the first image was his picture. I then proceeded to ask why they lied-"I didn't think you'd like me"- and so I blocked them. If a 12 year old has the foresight to do that, why are people still getting fooled?

I think a lot of it stems from seeking attention. They crave some form of affection, and these people are providing them with it. They could be lonely. Or perhaps their stories are just really convincing. I understand that it might be hard to know if a person is being dishonest. We don't automatically assume people are lying, so we take what they are saying as the truth. It's sad, really, that we can no longer do that.

But like I said, I don't want people to be scared of strangers. Yes, children should be advised of the dangers of the internet, but unless they learn that not everyone is out to touch them inappropriately, it's just not fun. It annoys me when people assume you meet someone online that they're automatically a paedophile. It's ridiculous. There are nice people out there. Strangers can become friends. As long as people are a little wary of what could happen, maybe being a little more vigilant than normal, then there is no reason why you can't establish friendships.

I just think a lot of people are fucking stupid.

Also, go watch "Catfish" because it is pretty entertaining to watch.

Passion.

I am incredibly jealous of those who know exactly what they want to do with their lives. They're the kind of people who have fled the womb knowing they want to be doctors, or clinical psychologists, or wet leisure assistants or, perhaps, owl breeders.

I get a little worried when I think about the future, and I know this applies to everyone, but honestly I have no idea what I'll be up to, say, ten years from now. I hope that I'll be successful, and, y'know, preferably rich- but ultimately I just hope I'm happy. I suppose when it comes down to it, as long as you are happy with what you're doing, then you can't wish for much more.

The people who do know what route they're taking in life, it's mainly because they're passionate about something. "Follow your passion", sounds cliché-  but I suppose it is true. I love watching people talk about something they're passionate about, even if I myself have no interest in the topic.

So yeah, go out, follow your passion, and breed some owls or something.  

Vuvuzela of Common Sense

I'm currently reading a book entitled "The Rational Optimist" by Matt Ridley. It's a great book for putting things into perspective- it's also described as "a triumphant blast on the vuvuzela of common sense." by Boris Johnson. So what more could you want?

I can't agree more with the sentiment of the book- that we live in a time where we are wealthier, healthier, happier, cleaner and more long-lived than any previous generation. I've always believed that my generation, in this western society that I inhabit, is extremely lucky to be around at the time we are currently occupying. Not only do we have all the necessities, but can actually afford much of the luxuries that are around today.

One of them luxuries would be time. How much time do we get to spend doing as we please? Quite a lot, really, in comparison with our ancestors- who had to spend the majority of their time wondering where their next meal came from, or where a clean source of water was. Now, with the benefit of shared resources, shared technology and shared knowledge, we get to spend more time doing the things we really do enjoy.

Whether that time be filled with art, music, cooking, reading, meeting friends or even just browsing the internet, it's still time we get to ourselves.

That's the true measure of prosperity, the time you get to enjoy yourself. Just do what makes you happy*.


*unless of course that happiness revolves around murder, rape or touching children inappropriately.

Indescribable

Some moments you just can't describe. They're the moments that are punctuated with laughter and smiles and happiness, but are too difficult to explain in terms of just words. All I can say is that it's really nice to share these moments of my life with people I really like. These will be the moments I shall look back on when I'm older (unless I happen to suffer some terrible fate or degenerative brain disease). So I just want to appreciate the fact I can say things like "Yeah I went out to look for some meteors, but it was a bit cloudy, so we ended up at Tesco at 5am". Because that's what I will cherish, that happiness- that moment- forever.

(This is definitely a defrostable happiness moment)

A Little From My Childhood.

I miss being amused by a cardboard box, allowing it to capture mine and my sisters imaginations, taking us to realms only children's minds can fathom. That was the beauty of youth. It was without consequence, you just did. We'd make up all sorts of games, that seemed to stretch out for hours, full of detail, full of emotion. Any one looking at us would have probably just described it as two young girls barking at one another. But it was so much more than that. Our games, despite lacking originality with such titles as; "The Puppy Game", "The Airplane Game" or "The Shark Game" were beautiful, in every aspect of the word. There were countless games, ones that were only played on holiday, or that needed certain trees, or equipment, but mainly the only tools we needed were our minds.

The games stopped, eventually, but the imagination was never curbed, and was allowed to expand into the other activities we pursued.

---

Having learnt from a young age the importance of books, there was always a cornucopia of available reading material. On a holiday to Spain, I recall reading the book "Bridge Across My Sorrows" by Christina Noble. It was one of my mothers books, and I was only seven. But I remember reading about the deprivation, the sexual abuse, the hardship of life. I don't know whether I truly appreciated the themes in the book. However, I knew then, as a seven year old, that life wasn't always full of happiness. I think I felt lucky.

A few months later, I remember asking my mother what the term "rape" meant. We were out together, walking the dogs. We were headed towards the lake, and I had been dwelling on it, having some assumption of its meaning. My mother, not particularly phased, responded by asking "What do you think it means?" And I had told her I had read about it, or that I'd seen it plastered angrily across newspaper headlines. I told her I thought it had something to do with sex. She told me that was a part of it, only it was sex people didn't want. I think I understood.

---

On the many trips out with my nan and grandad, we'd often visit the place with the squirrels. I only remember the story that I've been told, but one time whilst there, I got lost. My nan said it felt like hours passed, and still I hadn't returned. The anguish they felt only amplified when my sister commented that she'd seen "A strange man wandering around...". Luckily I was safe, and I came out crying from the bushes because I thought everyone had left me.

---

When going about our weekly supermarket shop, my sister would often strive to get me lost. She'd deliberately point me in the opposite direction to where our parents had gone. I don't know why I believed her, but I'd be left in the aisle, close to tears, only for her to run back down the same aisle and grab me.

Those were the days. Still a little bit lost.