I’m listening to Coldplay for the first time in a long time. I remember their gig way back on 27 June 2006 – one year ago, actually, where I became the somewhat reluctant recipient of a spare ticket to, though I did not know it at the time, a beautiful cacophony and display of musicianship (in the truest sense of the word) by the quietly spoken and utterly ethereal talent that is Chris Martin. What has me taken in so many indescribable ways, is that this particular song seems to imbue in me a kind of wild abandon, a visceral impact, which I suppose is the whole purpose of music, really – I wrote a gig review on it via MySpace (oh back in the day Lol), which can be accessed here.
Anyhoo, I’m sitting at home for yet another Saturday night pondering the notion of writing and keeping a blog. Most people write about the nuances in the everyday lives, weaving a kind of epic narrative around the presupposed idiosyncrasies of their world, thinly disguised as a prime form of self-indulgence. Having said that, I don’t deny that what I’m doing right this moment is self-indulgent.. I mean, we all aspire for our 15 minutes of fame, and really, is there no better way to do it than through a blog? Or MySpace/YouTube.. such is the current culture that we live in. We hoist ourselves upon a pedestal in our own minds because we want to be recognised. We’re mortally afraid of being insignificant, so we do all we can to spread our legacy by any means possible (a somewhat related tangent: check out this week’s The Essay by Larry Buttrose in the Spectrum section via the brick that is SMH today – sorry, I can’t find the link to it), and to preserve it through any means.
What I wonder is why people write about certain things in their lives. I suppose the things that they deem important, of course. If it were up to me, I’d write about the people in my life, who I love, admire, am jealous of, those who stir such a feeling of frustration within me that the only way to release it is to write it all down. But that’s the crux – the whole point of keeping a blog is to write a diary with the knowledge that it’s being read by third parties. You write with almost the intention that it WILL be read by someone other than you.
Which is why most of my thoughts take the form of emails to each of those people in my lives. In emails, comments, random text messages, letters, gifts, phone calls. Communication is what it comes down to. I mean, of course, it’d be easier to write about all the things I aspire to be and all my insecurities and fears in a blog so that it saves me having to repeat myself to certain people. But the fact of the matter is, I’ve realised that some things don’t need to be posted up for all the world to see. There are matters that are private and serve no real interest to the voyueristic society in which we live.
I’m chuckling at myself as I’m writing this, because my profession really serves to air out all those truths and opinions that people may have – ‘expose’ the nuances and idiosyncrasies and, at times, hypocrasies of some individuals. About a year ago, I would’ve been all for exposing the evils of the world and certain individuals – but I am different person now. More learned, weathered, wiser if anything. But I guess when that time comes, when I find myself wrestling personally with that old ‘conflict of interest’ debate, it will come and I’ll deal with it when it does. And while I am fully aware that my profession has its own contradictions (just like any other profession), I vow to guard my own privacy for as long as I can.
I think what it comes down to though, is what we choose to make significant in our lives, what we hold most dear. And so to quote Justin Heazlewood in this month’s issue of Frankie (No. 18, Jul/Aug 2007, p.108):
But enough with the rambling and existential ponderings – I’m hungry…
P.S. A small thing to keep in mind: subjectivity reigns.