Tag: personality

  • Facet

    Facebook’s policy changes a while back meant that suddenly,  the average user (as opposed to the technophile and conspiracy theorist) is raising an eyebrow, or both, depending on knowledge levels, at what it means to his privacy. This is not an indication of whether someone is below or above average, let’s not go there. Meanwhile, K and I have been discussing David Bond (Erasing David), which has to do with online privacy (though not in a Facebook context)  – how one man challenges experts from a security firm to track him down using information they can gain about him from the public domain, while he tries to outrun them.

    K noted that in the olden days, this notion of privacy didn’t exist, as everything was known to everybody. I agreed that in the new age, our connections are more, we include a lot more people in our lives, even indirectly, by just sharing our data online. Our work, lifestyle and advances in technology mean that we communicate more, meet more people, and yes, ‘friend’ them.

    It does good too, no taking away from that. Ironically, K and I know each other from work, from quite a few years back. We never interacted much then, and I was more pally with others in her team. I still remember, a couple of years back, when I met K and another colleague of hers in a shop, I chatted away with him, and rewarded K with a lousy smile. 😀  But these days, we have amazing conversations online, and I’m hardly in touch with her colleagues. Thank you Facebook 🙂

    As perhaps the first generation of Facebook users, we are in an interesting place (and time). I read “Chasing the Monk’s shadow” recently, a book in which the author retraces Xuanzang’s journey (we knew him as Hieun Tsang in our history text books) and it made me appreciate the value of the written word – especially when it resurfaces in a  different era.   It was in this context that I considered what really appears in our profiles on Facebook.

    (Generalising) We friend erm friends, but we also friend parents, siblings, relatives, acquaintances, and even random animals. We display our likes, dislikes, interests, information, and through our conversations, we add layers to this. But its amazing how, sometimes, when I ‘like’ something that someone has posted, and glance at the others who have liked it, I realise that I don’t know them. We’re connected by one common friend.

    The common friend, who I might know from college, and the other person might know from work. How much of mining would it require to unearth the nuances in the relationships between ‘friends’? Would it be possible to mine the fact that while I might make a smart alec comment on a person’s status, I might never have met him/her in real life? Would it be possible to mine the different persons we are, to different people, in different contexts. The worries, the fears, the quirks, whims and yes, likes, that we never express, the things that probably make us human – they exist in our minds. We only share a part of ourselves online. We are still strangers, sometimes even to ourselves.

    So yes, while all sorts of data from browsing history to buying habits are out there, maybe, in this hugely connected world, without the ‘real metadata’, in a way we are still disconnected from most of our ‘friends’… and the information gatherers? Since its slightly difficult to be like Schmidt (Google CEO), who infamously said “If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place”,  I believe that we should be responsible about what we share (even if that’s in the form of a ‘Like’) online.

    So all I’m saying is, you can press that little ‘Like’ button below, and nothing catastrophic is going to happen… yet 🙂

    until next time, face off

  • You and me

    The hurried breakfast, the hours in front of the computer,  the lunch at office, the work that’s done  to make a living, the dinner in front of the television, the mindless programming that occupies. I have many ways of escaping from you. On weekends, there are books to read up, movies to see, the shopping that has to be done, with or without discounts, the afternoon naps, the endless mall visits, the catching up with friends over cups of coffee, the dine outs, the posts to be written, the lifestream style to be maintained. I have a life to live, you know?

    Oh there are ways and ways of avoiding you. Even if you do confront me – those moments when you catch me off guard, I pretend not to know you. Until at some point in time, I won’t have to pretend. I really won’t know you, I won’t remember you existed. Maybe I never knew you.You were too difficult to understand. When I looked into your eyes, I was not looking in the mirror, I was looking at a different person.

    Maybe if we had met when we were younger, we would have realised we were the same person. But I never looked in the mirror then. There were others who decided for me. When I started looking in the mirror, I saw what I had been made to do, I rebelled. I didn’t realise that I was trading one set for another. You weren’t important enough. I was, and I was busy creating an image of myself. You were not.You were just you.

    Even now, I know you’re still there, you are what is, devoid of memories, or rather, the baggage of memories, while I frantically look around for what I should be. I am afraid, terribly afraid that I’ve lost you forever. I cannot try to reach you, I cannot even say that one day I will be you. I am you, or I am not. It takes a moment. I realise there is no middle path. I make my theories, I lean on my faith, I say that in another world I am better off, anything to be not you. For we both know that you will step out of the mirror, only if I cease to exist. I acknowledge you, but this is a fight for survival, of all the things that have made me, me. I fervently hope that I lose. I write this, so that I never forget. That in the mirror, it’s not me, its you. And we’re different. As different as the same person can be.

    until next time, the  battles within

    PS. The thought continued from last week, also found some kindred thoughts  (thanks to The Time Traveler’s Wife)

    Love After Love

    Derek Walcott

    The time will come
    when, with elation
    you will greet yourself arriving
    at your own door, in your own mirror
    and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

    and say, sit here. Eat.
    You will love again the stranger who was your self.
    Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
    to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

    all your life, whom you ignored
    for another, who knows you by heart.
    Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

    the photographs, the desperate notes,
    peel your own image from the mirror.
    Sit. Feast on your life.

  • I feel funny?

    [I wrote this post quite a while back, but the trigger to post is Cyn’s recent post of a similar nature]

    Those of you who read my other blog – brants, know the site by now. When I announced it on twitter at that point of time, Twilight Fairy‘s immediate response was “mubarakein! so finally you use ur real name in the virtual world 😛 :)” I told her, that the real name already existed in the virtual world – Facebook, LinkedIn, but I had an inkling of what she meant, because I felt a twinge when I took ‘brants’ out of the manuscrypts domain. Though I did not dwell on it, it was a defining moment for me in its own way. I did dwell on whether I should write this post, and you now know the result.

    I checked the names on my blogroll and was reassured to find a few handles that are just that – handles, not names. Maybe we’re from a different generation of bloggers. Ones who blogged for reasons that were utterly different from the reasons now. That’s generalising, yes, but there was something then about virtuality that offered a haven from reality.  Some have moved on, some have clung on, and some have just drifted on, like me.

    As a handle, ‘manuscrypts’ has been in existence for more than half a dozen years now. Long before the blog, there were chatrooms. Then came the blog, and while it was a personal one, over a period of time, the persona slowly overshadowed the personality, my picture does not exist on the blogs, the M symbol does. Actually, I think its a bit more complicated. A part of me is vastly different from my overt personality. The blog became an ideal location for this  rarely revealed (only when I’m very comfortable with people)  personality to manifest itself. So its more than just a handle. It was a world in itself.

    This was the only place the persona had, and I realise that I’ve been trying to shield ‘manuscrypts’, but I got carried away. Let me explain. Its to do with what Ideasmith calls the personality of a blog. Thanks to the shielding, the blog has come to dictate what kind of posts appear here – the kind of humour, the kind of seriousness, its all getting stereotyped? Conformity within non conformity. But manuscrypts wasn’t supposed to be constrained. Where once I wrote stuff even if it sounded fun only to myself, these days, I think before I post. I wonder if the jokes sound stale, I wonder if the puns are too subtle. I wonder if I’m being funny enough. I obsess. I’m guarded. I measure.  I even wonder if i play to the gallery, yes, both of you. 🙂 And I’m not sure I like that.

    Meanwhile, six years is a long time, the world and the real personality have been at work too.  In the real world, we  now build personal brands online. 🙂 We don’t have to, but it helps. That partly explains the reason that I shifted the ‘work’ content to a different domain altogether. It was a significant step – a giving in to reality.  The real and the virtual moving towards each other. And while I could have kept the two domains thoroughly apart,  without the person connecting them, I didn’t see a point. Both are facets of my personality.

    And while that was happening, a life has also been evolving. New interests, old interests rekindled, new people, new experiences, new avenues to be explored, all of it to be done in reality. Many times, a post has come up here only thanks to self discipline. For something like blogging, i don’t know if that’s a good thing. There is a power struggle between my own evolution and the expectations I have set for myself on this blog. I think that is pretty dumb and pompous for a little blog. There, i make it all easy for you – you just have to agree. 🙂

    So I saw it coming, actually even before I wrote this. But sometimes, something becomes so much of a focal point, that you stop thinking about it objectively. For me, it was the blog/s. But these days, I wonder if you have as much fun here as you used to earlier. And I have to confess, it does make me feel inadequate, helpless, and strangely, old. Not old enough to quit blogging, but old enough to wonder whether churning out 5 posts a week (both domains included) was the best way, for everyone concerned. And that’s not including the microblogging. (self hosted, so you can comment)

    So erm, that was what all this was about. To tell you in the only rambling fashion I know, that I am going to reduce the frequency here,  maybe once a week, so that I free up a little more time for myself, to do things that I don’t want to postpone and regret later, to figure out things for myself, to let myself roam a bit, to see if i can reach a state which the persona and the person will be happy about, all without having to worry if the blog will be updated.

    And for those kind people have been reading manuscrypts from the time he was only a little handle, he  still lives, at least for now, and thinks there’s no page like home. 🙂

    until next time, handling it 🙂

  • Lost Universes

    Sometime back, I got an email forward – A Violinist in the Metro, about the world famous musician Joshua Bell, who, in 45 minutes, played 6 Bach pieces, with a violin worth $3.5 million, at a metro station in Washington, and collected $32 for the effort. A couple of days back, he had sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats had averaged $100. The incident was a social experiment by Washington Post to check out whether we perceive beauty in a commonplace environment and whether we stop to appreciate it. The findings are a testament of the fast paced life we live, and the things we miss out on.

    But a few other facts in this incident interested me. For one, the crowd segment that paid the most attention to the musician were children. Their parents had to forcibly tug them away. Even if we are cynical and claim that its just curiosity, and not an appreciation of music, I still wonder about our life graph, and the part where we lose our innate curiosity. And its not just curiosity, its innocence, its a lot of other things that we lose on the way.

    When I meet friends from school or college, I sense they’ve changed, and so have I. Attitudes,mindsets, behaviour, all transforming themselves according to the experiences that life throws at us. And because of this, I am not able to relate to them the way I used to at an earlier point in time. A part of me that is perhaps lost forever. Even if I tried to re create it, it would be resisted by the current me.

    The other portion in the incident that interested me was that after the performance, there was no applause or recognition. People just moved on, oblivious to the phenomenon they didn’t perceive. I wonder if Joshua Bell was disappointed. Perhaps, if you’re a musician of that caliber, you would have passed the stage where you needed a stamp of approval. Or is he just like me? An unconfident performer of life, who looks around apologetically if he has upset any balance. Perhaps if i could perform like a carefree child, I could get back the curiosity and the other things that I’ve lost.

    This stream of consciousness reminded me of something I’d read about in the novel Space – a space shuttle’s flight. As it ascends into space, at different levels it discards different parts, parts that were useful to get it to that point, but useless after they’ve served this utility. And after completing the mission that it was sent for, it blazes a path back through the atmosphere, burning all except its core. It lands in a place far away from the place of its origin, and time has passed while all this is happening. In a strange way, it reminded me of the way lives are lived – at massive speeds, too fast to notice the beauty of the vast expanses of space around, to achieve something which is relevant only in a very small context, burning up with the hope that all that is being done is worthwhile, and perhaps in a lost, melancholic way, deciding that since anyway the life is to be lived, might as well live it with a mission, however inadequate it seems.

    until next time, touchdown

  • Views

    …and we lament, ‘Oh, he has changed’, without pausing to consider the objectivity of the statement. We like people to stay whoever they have been so long, because it then means we don’t have to alter the patterns we have set for them, and when, in our view, they alter themselves even a wee bit, we frown, and even that small changes causes a butterfly effect on the set of patterns, however irrelevant they might be to the particular change.

    And that was what i discovered the last time I checked – ‘our view’. In many cases, it may not be the person that changes, but only our view of him. Our views, which change constantly as a result of all the experiences we keep having. Our views, which keep adding layer after layer, filter after filter,so that the tint that we see once may never be seen again.That perhaps is why the youth are not able to have a child like innocence in their perspectives, and the middle aged can never find their youthful exuberance in their views, and so on…

    And so, the next time, i say ‘You have changed’, I shall perhaps do a quick review of what really has changed.


    until next time, next change