As it is, the photos and stories have attracted a number of people to my facebook. I don't particularly mind, to be honest, I kind of appreciate it. Then these people come up with weird shit to compensate for their act as fans that eventually gets me riled up.
There's this one guy that posts an immeasurable number of photos of himself, i.e. camwhorism and tags me in it. I'm sorry but yeah, I'd rather spend my days not having to look at a stranger's face every couple of hours or so. The fact remains that camwhorism is the bane to social photography sites and yes, I detest it. However, if you do choose to go ahead and indulge in such activities, what can I do but grumble in silent disapproval. The situation changes though when for some bitching reason, you want me to be apart of said act. What is the fucking motive of even doing so?
The rules are pretty simple, I believe. When you want to be friends with another person, the logical thing to do - I will skip on the word civilised - is to obviously introduce yourself. You know, with a fucking message or something. Tell me who you are, why you're here, what you secretly wish for, whatever. People however, have apparently missed that whole etiquette. Take being on facebook for example. People request to be your friend with names like 'Menuju Puncak Kamehameha' or 'Cahaya Asshole' and shit like that, with the hope that I will almost definitely recognise them. Then, in an utter weirded out state, I'll look at the picture to see a sliver of recognition from said person and then I see this:
Baby pictures. Or pictures of posters. Or pictures of cartoons. What? So let's see, right now, I am supposed to share my personal information with a person who does not have a real name, no real picture of himself and is basically a ghost. You know what all that leads to?
I get the fact that you might be that insecure to not want your deformed face to litter the internet and I applaud you for caring about the internet's state of quality. But really, hiding everything just makes you a suspected sex offender. Maybe I'm not that far off either.
Then there are the ones who do everything to the dot and are still able to use some sort of witchcraft to fuck my day up. Take this for example.
*Ding* You have a facebook message.
*Opens facebook tab with minor interest*
New associate: Hi.
Me: Uh, hi.
NA: Good morning, smoking is bad.
Me: That's good to know.
NA: You must quit. You will kill yourself and the people around you.
Me: So will your mindless blabbering. You've probably given ear cancer to your mates. Rectal cancer is probably on its way now. You should be careful.
See, I don't understand that for the life of me. I get the fact that you're trying to help or whatever but the fact remains that I don't fucking know you man. It's like going up to a total stranger on a bus and telling her that she looks like an ape. It doesn't matter if she really does, but the fact of the matter remains that it's an invasion of privacy.
Problem with the whole thing is that it leaves me torn between the fact that I should just delete this cretin. But then I'll lose a reader/viewer. Hm.
*
I'm writing a goddamn romance short story at the moment. Never really wrote any before and it came to my attention that I should since it'd make good practice and such. Problem is, my God it's hard. I'm not talking about the kind that makes you feel all fluttery and all mushy inside, no that's pretty damn easy to write on.
What I have in mind is a story with so much goddamn raw emotion that if you read it twice, you'd fall into an endless pit of sadness and agony. Well, no, not to that extent. A tearjerker if I dare say so myself, and a good one.
While I've always write fiction, most of what happens in the stories have happened. It makes it easier and adds that much more realism into the piece. Now I have to write everything based on imagination and imagination alone, which of course is going to be a bit tough. Ah well.
Time is being a bitch now cause of the fucking weather transition and shit. Two weeks ago, 6 p.m. would be fucking bright as fuck and nowadays it's pitch black. Meh, nothing to be surprised about, fucked up places equal fucked up weather.
There's this one guy that posts an immeasurable number of photos of himself, i.e. camwhorism and tags me in it. I'm sorry but yeah, I'd rather spend my days not having to look at a stranger's face every couple of hours or so. The fact remains that camwhorism is the bane to social photography sites and yes, I detest it. However, if you do choose to go ahead and indulge in such activities, what can I do but grumble in silent disapproval. The situation changes though when for some bitching reason, you want me to be apart of said act. What is the fucking motive of even doing so?
 |
| Yeah? Yeah, alright. |
 |
| Am I the only one who realises that this is the most used profile picture on facebook? |
 |
| I fear for children. Wait, no I don't. |
Then there are the ones who do everything to the dot and are still able to use some sort of witchcraft to fuck my day up. Take this for example.
*Ding* You have a facebook message.
*Opens facebook tab with minor interest*
New associate: Hi.
Me: Uh, hi.
NA: Good morning, smoking is bad.
Me: That's good to know.
NA: You must quit. You will kill yourself and the people around you.
Me: So will your mindless blabbering. You've probably given ear cancer to your mates. Rectal cancer is probably on its way now. You should be careful.
See, I don't understand that for the life of me. I get the fact that you're trying to help or whatever but the fact remains that I don't fucking know you man. It's like going up to a total stranger on a bus and telling her that she looks like an ape. It doesn't matter if she really does, but the fact of the matter remains that it's an invasion of privacy.
Problem with the whole thing is that it leaves me torn between the fact that I should just delete this cretin. But then I'll lose a reader/viewer. Hm.
*
I'm writing a goddamn romance short story at the moment. Never really wrote any before and it came to my attention that I should since it'd make good practice and such. Problem is, my God it's hard. I'm not talking about the kind that makes you feel all fluttery and all mushy inside, no that's pretty damn easy to write on.
 |
| Mushiness. |
While I've always write fiction, most of what happens in the stories have happened. It makes it easier and adds that much more realism into the piece. Now I have to write everything based on imagination and imagination alone, which of course is going to be a bit tough. Ah well.
Time is being a bitch now cause of the fucking weather transition and shit. Two weeks ago, 6 p.m. would be fucking bright as fuck and nowadays it's pitch black. Meh, nothing to be surprised about, fucked up places equal fucked up weather.
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