The Instagram Complex

I caved. I joined the one social network that I said I'd always avoid. The e-mecca of superficiality-- the watering hole for the vainest inhabitants of the internet. As many of you may have guessed, I speak of Instagram. This is my analysis of that experience.

For those of you who are out of the loop (or have priorities) Instagram is the hot, erm, new-ish social networking site that encourages you to share your photographs with random strangers in a quest to gain likes that matter about as much as the points on Who's Line is it Anyway. You use hashtags with one word descriptions of what the image is in order to get your profile and picture noticed-- ultimately to gain followers. Essentially, it's an amalgam of Facebook's liking, Twitter's conciseness and Flikr's pictures. Kinda shallow, really... at least first glace.

The Secret to Life

Of all the things we seek in our lives-- success, love, acceptance, car keys-- one particular item ranks the highest on our most wanted list. No, want is not even close to being the right word... I'm grossly underselling the value of the object in question. This particular aspect of our existence is so unequivocally vital that no phrasing in any method of human expression could ever adequately capture the-

Oh, enough hype already! This blog entry is about one's purpose. It's about your, mine and everyone's role in the grand scheme of things. I speak of course of the ever-sought after cosmic answer: the secret to life.

I'm aware of how bold of a claim this is. I'm sure you're thinking to yourself--and quite logically, might I add-- how could one lowly blogger with little acclaim and no name for himself possibly think he's got the answers? I'm on even terms with you, I'd say... for what difference is there in a man but surroundings he keeps? I bid you only the benefit of my words, so listen and allow my words to serve as their own resume. You see, life's secret is not well kept-- anyone and everyone can figure it out and understand it.

The most common answer a man will give when questioned about life's meaning is that it is dependent on success or happiness (often the two are regarded as synonymous),  but I'd say both are only partially true-- far too broad to be accurate answers. What qualifies as happiness and success can mean any manner of things due to the wildly divergent perceptions of the human population. So then, what's my take? What do I find to be the meaning of life? One word: experience.    

That Dirty Word (A Killer's Monologue)

"I used to be a man. A man with a mind geared for the petty and mundane… just like you.  I cared about things, some of which had eyeballs and hearts. Things like jobs, kittens, babies and clothes. Things I know now are all equally irrelevant. All cosmically insignificant and oh so squishable. What am I now, you ask? What can I be, if not a man? What creature looks and lives like a man, but is not a man at all? The hell if I know, still making sense of that myself. Other people call me names— people like the police or my relatives, but who are they to me? What gives them the right? Demon, madman, psychopath… all those labels make me sick, but of all the insults I’ve been called… I’d say being called human stings the absolute worst.

Humankind. What a miserable bunch. At the very least, I’m an honest being— open with my odium. Hypocritical cowards, every last one of them. They’re revolting. They lie to everyone they meet about everything, trying to hype their accomplishments or downplay their failures. They want praise, pity or any form of goddamn attention in between. I just got promoted! My wife died! I have cancer! Why the HELL should I care!? Do you shed a tear when you step on an ant? Cheer when you see a bee pollenate a flower? A human being is nothing but meat with self-awareness, riding high on their horse of moral resolution. The containment of thoughts within the brain is the only thing stopping humanity from killing each other. In that sense, I guess you could say it was my outward thinking and openness that caused me to do what I did. Honesty is my only sin. I’m far too genuine to be a human.  I don’t fit in their fake system… their crappy circles… their grubby little ‘families.’

Nauseating. Utterly nauseating. FAMILY. The very word induces vomit. The concept of family is nothing more than a pathetic excuse to exclude others from receiving your kindness. Another selfish ploy to horde love and supplies— a shameless extension of man’s obsession with immortality. You live for your family? You mean your only purpose in life is to ensure the perpetuation your meaningless genetic code. How fucking noble. Of course I hate family because it’s basically just a fatter selection of humanity, a crappy clump of man meat innately huddling for an inane desire for ‘evolution.’ Of course they arrogantly assume the continuation of mankind is considered beneficial. For whom? Not animals. Not the planet. NOT ME.

Society is the longest running joke there is. Every day is progress? Yeah, progressively worse. What does society create? What does it accomplish? More human beings and less human beings, yet sadly fate favors the former. The only reason mankind isn’t already extinct is because fucking is more socially acceptable than killing. Both are forms of pleasure. Don’t think so, eh? Don’t knock what you haven’t tried.

C’mon, now… Haven’t you ever hated someone? Not annoyed… irked… bothered… hated. ABSOLUTELY DESPISED. This person—a lightly used term—has face on which the slightest smirk can set your soul on fire. Boil your blood! RUE YOUR VERY EXISTENCE. You can think of someone… I’m sure you can. That asshole boss or backstabbing co-worker? Fake friend or a real enemy? Maybe Mom, sis, bro… or is it dear old dad? A cheating spouse perhaps? The politician ruining a country? A group you hate? That sick animal abuser you saw on the news. Rapist...? A terrorist group…? The whole country from which they hail? A serial-killer? Everyone who has ever murdered?

You see it don’t you… the color grey. It paints over that bullshit code of morality and ethics that you and the rest of your kind clutch so dearly to. You can call a grizzly bear invisible, but it will still bite your head off. You can call a lie the truth… but it will still live inside you and tear away at your mushy little human parts. When given the acceptance of society, mankind will willingly commit to committing genocide. You think you’re so different than Nazi Germany? The Pope commanded the Crusades, an absolute bloodbath. Why is a Muslim’s death more acceptable than a Jew’s? America, land of the free. Home of the brave. Site of the massive slaughter of an entire culture. God bless our troops— government sanctioned serial-killers.

              

There’s that word again… serial-killer. That magic word that makes everyone simultaneously defecate themselves and turn their noses in a conditioned response of disgust. I suppose you’ll tune me out now. Go ahead… go on your way and go about your day, thinking you’re morally superior. I don’t care what you think, and nor does history or the greater cosmos. I’m the happiest man alive— doing what I love."

LOMP: Laugh Out of My Prison

This entry is intended for a special someone in my life who unfortunately suffers from GAD, or Generalized Anxiety Disorder, but it also applies to anyone who feels an intense fear at some point or another. That means it applies to everyone-- myself included. Constant anxiety is nothing to be ashamed of, as fear is an integral part of human nature. You're not strange, if anything you're even more human than others. Humanity is a species beset by weaknesses, but the act of overcoming them is what defines our race. Throughout the annals of time, other humans like yourself have faced the fears you faced-- rational or otherwise. They evolved and adapted to combat and grow past them... and you will too.

The worst fear a man can face is a fear without a face. Why? Because it's untouchable and unable to be proven or measured. The uncertainty adds to the danger, and you're always left feeling insecure. In that same sense, the hardest prison to escape is that of our own minds. For so many people, that prison is their fate and they feel like they'll never find parole. They live stagnant lives, frozen by their apprehension. Sure there's drugs like Xanex and the like, but for most people their side-effects only make things worse. If professional therapy doesn't even work, where can you turn?

"Hopeless. Everything is hopeless. I'll never get better. Things will never change. There is no cure." 

Anxiety is a beast that creates a never-ending cycle of terror-- because you get anxiety... about anxiety.

But that cycle can and will END. Here's some good news: matters of the mind can always be conquered. If you break your back and become paralyzed for life, there's not much you can do... but with fear? You're not physically paralyzed at all! Your boat is chained down by an imaginary anchor. You know that prison cell you're in? No walls. The only thing keeping you trapped inside is... well, nothing. Good news, you're free to go. Wait... why are you still standing there? I said you could go...