I, too, have been on the same boat with thousands of other Instagram addicts, who had to perfect every single picture from the lighting to the angle, from the size of my head to the proportion of my body. I created this so-called perfect image online. I searched for photoshop tools that I can use to perfect my photos even further. I searched for trends, and hoped to gain more followers by following them. I was obsessed with numbers, and numbers of followers in particular. I was obsessed with the number of likes I receive from each photo. I was obsessed with Instagram.
Pathetic isn't it? Neglecting real life friends and obsessing with strangers on social media. Unfortunately, this is the society that we live in. People care more about their image on cyberspace than their image in real life, in the cases I witnessed, at least. People search for filters, angles, clothes, photoshop tools, and even plastic surgery that make them look just a little more attractive than before. (Or at least that's what they/we think). How superficial? How realistic? Why?
Why are people so obsessed with their image online? Because they are not the only ones. They know that others are equally obsessed with their own, and other people's image online. It is how people judge each other. It is how people stalk each other. It is how people compete, secretly, for most cases.
Have you heard of the theory that the more stay you stay on Facebook the less happy you become? It's true, at least for me it is. I tried to stay away from Facebook for a while, not looking at those perfecting lives or should I say lies, and I felt better about myself. It is so difficult to not compare, if you see bits and pieces of everyone's lives right there for you to see and judge. I see two types of people on Facebook. The ones that make their lives uber exciting and the ones that complain about everything. Ironically, people usually get pleasure from reading the tragedies, and get jealous from reading the exciting, perfect adventures that others get to experience.
What have social media turned us into? More correctly, what have we turned our selves into? In the past, people compare, but they do it less frequently due to the lack of access to others' lives. Now, we have all the freedom to access other people's lives without letting them know. All of us become stalkers because there are no apparent consequences. But, there are! We become vulnerable, depressed, self-effacing from just reading a clingy couple or loving family or ambitious college student's posts. We look back to our selves and feel that we are not enough.
Well guess what. You are not enough!
If you're busy enough, you will be able to stay off Facebook. You will be able to focus on your own life. You will be able to improve nothing but yourself, and not your stalking skills. Focus on yourself!
Your time is limited. If you were to make an investment, with time, make it on yourself first.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
From Vancouver to Shanghai. The songs from band and what hurts my soul.
You know, up until now, I'm still afraid of hearing my own sound.
I'm not talking about my voice. I'm talking about the songs we played in concert band, in jazz band.
Some things are magical but you don't realize it until you've missed it.
I remember the days I had to wake up extra early just to go to jazz band practices. Yes it was a drag. I remember telling myself, for days I can count with one hand, of how absurd it is to join jazz band and sacrifice sleep. How absurd it is to make my life so stressful, unnecessarily stressful? But, who understood my love for music? For piano, maybe not so much, due to all the discouragement and mandatory lessons. But band! I chose it for myself. I decided to play percussion instruments, after hearing that it is the heart of the orchestra. I decided to start learning french horn, not just because of its elegant look, but also because of its complexity. There are only three buttons, but you play scale after scale, using just slight variation of your lips. I still remember the time, when I was called "First French Horn". I was so proud, as if that's my greatest achievement ever. I remember secretly competing with this boy in my section, seeing who can play the part better. Seeing who can get the first french horn part. So, how are you doing now?
I'm still afraid. I'm tagged in the videos on Facebook, and some nights when I can't sleep, I go on Facebook and listen to those songs. They are so beautiful! They make me cry. They make me realize what I missed out on and what I really wanted and needed in my life.
I moved, and switched schools. But I never moved on. Yes, I attempted to join the orchestra in my new school, but it was not the same. No one was disciplined enough to practice at home. The orchestra was a joke. I felt like a joke. It was not music. I quit.
Some days I still can't help but think to myself, what if I stayed in Vancouver? What if I never agreed on moving? Would things be better? Or am I just giving myself excuses for not achieving certain goals in my life just because I did not get to choose certain paths? I really don't know. All I know is that, if I had some say in moving, I would not be able to blame anything, anyone. I hate blaming and regretting.
The songs are so beautiful and heartbreaking. I'm trying really hard not to cry but it is almost impossible. There is so much I want to do about my past but it is all useless now. The song are not perfect. I hear missed notes and rhythm here and there. But it is that time, those hours we practiced together, the nervousness that we shared... those are irreplaceable memories. Memories that only WE understand. I love music, I really do. I still do, but that passion is starting to hurt me, because I am drifting so far away from it.
The moment I started my life in Shanghai, I had to let go a lot of things. Music was one of them. That includes piano (which I was somewhat thankful for at that moment), concert band, jazz band, and choir. Did I talk about sports? Well that's gone too. It is so hard not to blame when you know exactly who decided on the changes in your life, when you made it so clear that you did not want those changes. When you watch the selfishness swallow a person's soul, and decide for the child's destiny. You witness it yourself, and you fear for your life. The life you desired. The life you were supposed to have, with years of fighting and working.
But, I hate to feel this way. I hate to reveal negativity. Well, it seems that the hate is also a form of negativity.
Good night world. Let's say that tomorrow is better but we never know.
I'm not talking about my voice. I'm talking about the songs we played in concert band, in jazz band.
Some things are magical but you don't realize it until you've missed it.
I remember the days I had to wake up extra early just to go to jazz band practices. Yes it was a drag. I remember telling myself, for days I can count with one hand, of how absurd it is to join jazz band and sacrifice sleep. How absurd it is to make my life so stressful, unnecessarily stressful? But, who understood my love for music? For piano, maybe not so much, due to all the discouragement and mandatory lessons. But band! I chose it for myself. I decided to play percussion instruments, after hearing that it is the heart of the orchestra. I decided to start learning french horn, not just because of its elegant look, but also because of its complexity. There are only three buttons, but you play scale after scale, using just slight variation of your lips. I still remember the time, when I was called "First French Horn". I was so proud, as if that's my greatest achievement ever. I remember secretly competing with this boy in my section, seeing who can play the part better. Seeing who can get the first french horn part. So, how are you doing now?
I'm still afraid. I'm tagged in the videos on Facebook, and some nights when I can't sleep, I go on Facebook and listen to those songs. They are so beautiful! They make me cry. They make me realize what I missed out on and what I really wanted and needed in my life.
I moved, and switched schools. But I never moved on. Yes, I attempted to join the orchestra in my new school, but it was not the same. No one was disciplined enough to practice at home. The orchestra was a joke. I felt like a joke. It was not music. I quit.
Some days I still can't help but think to myself, what if I stayed in Vancouver? What if I never agreed on moving? Would things be better? Or am I just giving myself excuses for not achieving certain goals in my life just because I did not get to choose certain paths? I really don't know. All I know is that, if I had some say in moving, I would not be able to blame anything, anyone. I hate blaming and regretting.
The songs are so beautiful and heartbreaking. I'm trying really hard not to cry but it is almost impossible. There is so much I want to do about my past but it is all useless now. The song are not perfect. I hear missed notes and rhythm here and there. But it is that time, those hours we practiced together, the nervousness that we shared... those are irreplaceable memories. Memories that only WE understand. I love music, I really do. I still do, but that passion is starting to hurt me, because I am drifting so far away from it.
The moment I started my life in Shanghai, I had to let go a lot of things. Music was one of them. That includes piano (which I was somewhat thankful for at that moment), concert band, jazz band, and choir. Did I talk about sports? Well that's gone too. It is so hard not to blame when you know exactly who decided on the changes in your life, when you made it so clear that you did not want those changes. When you watch the selfishness swallow a person's soul, and decide for the child's destiny. You witness it yourself, and you fear for your life. The life you desired. The life you were supposed to have, with years of fighting and working.
But, I hate to feel this way. I hate to reveal negativity. Well, it seems that the hate is also a form of negativity.
Good night world. Let's say that tomorrow is better but we never know.
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