Sunday, January 30, 2011

emotionally bankrupt

When 15% of your dead loyal followers start harassing you for updates, you really gotta give it to them. Score one for my propaganda, but I should also add that those 15% actually amount to about 3 people.

My good friends will note (and I think I've said it on my old blog a few times) that I don't call myself a blogger. I am just a dude who, one Easter holiday, while procrastinating on my 3rd year project, chanced upon this 'blogging' fad and hopped on to it, getting very good at telling people what I thought, and pissing off a lot of people along the way. But it wasn't like a log or journal of what was going on - it was mostly a commentary or a sharing of experiences.

Then it got old.

I found other (more productive) ways of amusing myself and spending my free time. Plus, most of what I say here is redundant anyway. Most of my thoughts are well documented, most of my beliefs are well stated and most of my theories have been shared with anybody who cared to listen - either here or in my old blog. Therefore, I felt I had nothing much else to add or say.

Until this week.

Earlier this week, there was a video circulating around Facebook of a certain poodle getting abused by a bloke in a messy room. And oh, would you believe the outrage? Of course, I am familiar with online witch hunts and this was no different - what with all the mistaken identity of the so-called assailants.

What struck me was the fact that loads of people showed extreme sadness over a dog. Or to put it crudely, "just a dog". But there people were, crying (literally) over a video that they watched, or in some cases couldn't bear to watch. For me, I couldn't watch the video because it got boring after the 2nd minute. For me the more pressing question was - what so fun about watching a dude beat up a dog that people had to watch for 15 minutes?

Would I be pissed if it was MY dog? I don't know - probably. I mean I had a dog who was poisoned when I was a kid (they poisoned my dog because they wanted to rob my neighbour's house the following week). But was I crying? No, in fact I was more worried that my dog's ghost would haunt my house.

But it is some random stranger and some random dog who didn't even die, didn't get his eyes gouged out or anything; heck the bones weren't even broken, it was just slapped around silly. And let me clarify here - I am not supporting that bloke; I think he should be thrown in jail for abuse.

My point here was that I didn't understand all the emotions running through the minds of people watching the video - enough to make them cry and lose sleep over it? As I noted on my Facebook wall (ever the oracle of my wisdom these days):

If happiness is the absence of sadness, then the secret to eternal happiness is apathy. Because you can't get upset if you don't give a crap.

Yes, a certain woman of historical past would love to remind me that I am "emotionally bankrupt" but I retort by saying I sleep better at night. I never get upset over issues like that, and contrary to popular belief, I am a way happier person than most. I don't get myself worked up. I don't worry about issues I cannot resolve. And for issues that I can resolve, I compartmentalize them into neat little boxes in the back of my mind to be handled systematically.

Try it, folks.

The following day, Mikey, my current partner in crime and I were throwing around jokes, dissing the idiots who hacked the alleged abuser's FB account and the morons who were leaving threatening messages - come on folks, that's really stupid because I am sure the police take more seriously death threats against human beings more seriously than some topless dude slapping around poodles. If that "Doreen" girl wanted to press charges, I am damn sure the police would find a solid case against the online mob.

And Mikey was saying how she thought it would be funny if either of us were to go to that hacked FB account and leave messages on the wall - "I wish my dog could stand on two legs!" I added in "Damn that's a smart dog!" or "You have madzz dog training skillzz - can you train my cat?"

OH HOW TASTELESS.

Did we mean it? Of course not. It was tasteless humour that we enjoy only amongst ourselves but that took our minds of some random event that we had no control over.

Am I emotionally bankrupt?

Probably. But that also means I sleep better at night not worrying over things I cannot control.