Handcrafted.

For the past week I have been devoid of culture. I didn't go looking for it. When not harassed by my kinfolk, I watched Season 6 of Supernatural and followed it up with Battleship. Although freshly laundered clothes were folded at an unseen-before speed parallel to these times, it was not the 'right' kind of culture. Sigh. What does it take for me to stop sabotaging myself?

I miss using emails. They were reminiscent of letters and I was (and still am) a big fan of letter-writing. I miss it primarily because it's not instantaneous. You get an email today and you can reply tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or even in February. The sender will never know that you left the email stewing in your inbox on purpose. Ignorance is truly bliss. You'd be spared from confrontations that would ensue should the sender be aware of your intentional delay. "How come you replied her Wall post and not mine?!" is not a question you can really provide a satisfactory answer to. What if you're the sender of that email? It would be a lot easier to cheerfully make excuses for the recipient. What you don't know won't hurt you. Some aspects of human nature must be concealed for feathers-unruffled, feelings-benign communication.

Another aspect of using emails (or letters) that I particularly adore is that it allows me to stare at the screen blankly for stretches of time in between typing, collecting my thoughts. It would not be socially acceptable to make the person you're instant-messaging wait for 20 minutes for each reply, would it? I need time to be funny. My wit has to be summoned from wherever it's been napping and needs to be prodded until it's fully awake. My funniness is not a knee-jerk reaction. As a result, I am reduced to standard phrases in SMSes and IMs. I appear dull and awkward when in fact I am highly amusing.

I want whatever thought that I translate into the physical world, via speech or writing, to be beautiful. Whatever I offer to the world must be handcrafted and as close to perfection as it can get. Think of a thought (wow, paradox!) as a piece of paper. Plain, uninspiring. Are you going to hand just that to the world? What revolution would it catalyze? But you know, if someone's asking you if you're going to the loo, yes or no would suffice. It's unlikely that a lengthy reply would change the world in any way.

"It is indeed, the destination of which the journey I am desirous of making, due to a crippling pain I harbour inside of me, which constitutes the utmost urgency."

I can go on if let loose. But back to that paper. What if when speaking or writing, I present to the world an origami crane. Or rabbit. Delicately folded to produce an aesthetically-pleasing form. A thing that has meaning. Something the world would hesitate to discard. Something rational, backed with evidence, and strengthened with truth and conviction. Whatever I produce would be far more substantial if I take the time to think, compose, and phrase it to loveliness.

What I am not saying is that you cannot figuratively fold origami cranes and rabbits in instantaneous communication. Rather, there is more pressure to fire off replies like your whole existence depends on it, especially if you're communicating with several people at the same time. It's like trying to juggle teacups. Dangerous and confusing. Beauty takes effort and effort takes time.

That one-liner concludes my pseudo-philosophical musings for today. Pray that I won't succumb to the siren call of uTorrent and download Season 7 of Supernatural. Pray for me.

P.s. 3-month holiday!