Remedial Chaos Theory is probably the best episode of Community ever.
In fact, I would argue that it is one of the most glorious moments of television ever.
Maybe I tend to exaggerate things.
But COMMUNITY IS SO FREAKIN' AWESOME OHMYGOOOOD
:Shamelessly plugging new favourite tv show:
Ignore this post. It exists for the sole purpose of there being more Community-related content on my blog. Yay.
And with good reason too; not just because that's the opinion of the Internet Hivemind, or just to piss me off (I use the Instagram app on my phone like it's nobody's business, taking pictures of ridiculous things.)
And maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to agree with him.
According to him, the only way people can enjoy a good meal at a restaurant anymore is through the cellphone camera. If you haven't taken a picture and Instagrammed it then suddenly your meal isn't worth it anymore. And what is the deal with taking a perfectly clear picture of anything, and then applying a gritty yellow filter to it in order for it to be artsy? It's ridiculous.
And the hashtag rape on all the photos. Ugh.
Sometimes I think he is the only sensible person in this entire household. Heck, I know it.
And the same goes with any of the existing forms of social networking that people use today. Everyone has turned into an all-out, unabashed social media junkie.
Not long ago, a friend of mine admonished me (via text) for not peppering my text messages with enough emoticons. Another time, I got yelled at by another friend (in person) for not 'liking' any of her deep, insightful facebook posts.
These are the things we complain about now.
I suppose every generation has it's 'thing'. The 70s had disco, we have Instagram.
Obligatory Louis CK:
Clearly, times have changed. Not long ago, taking photos was a somewhat meaningful activity. As far as my family goes, we only took the camera out only for birthdays, or when we went on picnics and long trips. And I wasn't allowed anywhere near it, of course. Rolls and rolls of film would be submitted for developing into photos, and out of all of them, only a few would make it into an album.
Now, well, we don't have to lug the chunky Yashica around anymore when we travel, but suddenly the whole sacred ritual of taking photos has become pointless. "Oh, look! A wonderful sunset! I'll take a picture of it with my cellphone, add a fake edit to it so it looks grainy and vintage, and upload it to Instagram." Thing is, millions of people around the world are doing the very same thing, so your meaningful sunset is gone, lost in an endless sea of meaningful sunsets. Not so meaningful now, is it?
To quote from an article I was reading while I wrote this:
"We're drowning in a sea of photos and I think our ability to filter the good from the bad almost disappears. Why else do I see people sharing photos of their dinner every day? There are only so many ways you can to take a photo of sandwich you and a billion other people had for lunch. Would anyone care?
The urge to share things comes from human nature, but the uncurated photos we send out every day make us all less interested in them. Sadly, this applies even to the ones which are worth the time to look at. We feel the need to 'contribute' constantly, so we end up taking hundreds of photos and sharing them on Instagram to fill the void and feel, just for a moment, that we’ve made an impression."
Instagram may be a pointless activity to a lot of people. But 'being pointless' never stopped anyone from doing anything, ever. I will continue to take pictures of ridiculous things. My brother hates Instagram, not me. But I do recognize that I have a problem, and I'll do my best not to get overwhelmingly obsessed with the whole thing. There are tv shows meant specifically for that purpose.
Hi. I am Snickerdoodle. I am a social media junkie. It has been 4 days since my last tweet and 2 days since my last post on Instagram.
Leaves are falling all around, It's time I was on my way. Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay. To me, the whole of last week has been about overwhelming change; about transitioning from one world to another. I even graduated (And I will write a meaningful post about that soon), among many other things.
That's it. I've decided. "Ramble On" is the current theme song to my life. It perfectly describes my sentiments about the whole brouhaha that my mind has been for a while now.
Which brings me to the point of this post. It's 2 am on a Tuesday morning, and while I should be asleep like everyone else, I'm not. I usually make important life decisions around this time. I feel like I should do this right now, lest I end up changing my mind about it later.
As of today, "Fluorescent Adolescent 2.0" is now "Keep Calm and Ramble On." So it's a small change of name. For a blog, even. Why am I making such a big deal about it? Thing is, I started this blog sometime back in early 2007. Back then, it was called "The Suckish Life of a 7th Grader", and I used it to rant about school, math, and other people and things. Over the years, it changed to "Fluorescent Adolescent 2.0", and now I'm changing the name again. It's always been just this one tiny blog. So, in a way, this blog has watched me grow: from a precocious 12-year old ranting about anime and school, to, well, whatever it is that I've turned out to be today. I treat it like a sentient entity. It grows and changes as I grow and change. In some odd way, this blog is sort of like my Grecian Urn; even though all those rants have long since been deleted (And thank goodness for that), the memories still remain.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen...:blah blah:... you look wonderful in your suits and sarees this evening :blahblahetc:.."
I'm willing to bet a good box of orange tic tacs that somebody is going to say that at Valedictory this Saturday.
Which brings me to the point of this blog post: I'm graduating this Saturday!
:Yay, woohoo, tears et al:
Really. No sarcasm and all. Full enthu is coming.
Fourteen years. Fourteen phenomenal, fucking wonderful years I've spent here, and now, I'm finally being kicked out into the big, bad world to tackle whatever shenanigans life throws at me. Full nostalgia trippage is happening.
:sniffle:
As with most things, the preparation for the actual event is more overwhelming than the actual event itself.
All around me everyone is doing their darn best to look amazing for valedictory. I hear talk of crash diets, and starving, among other things.
Me? I'm sitting on my bum watching Desperate Housewives on tv and drinking my weight in mango juice.
You take your usual seat by the window, headphones and all.
The big red bus ambles along the road, and then halts at a traffic signal. You gaze fixedly out the bus window, at the next lane.
Bikes and cars flit endlessly across it.
You spot something hovering above the lane. It's a butterfly.
A big, butterfly; with wings striped a black and bright orange. A Monarch.
Of course, you christen it Madame Butterfly.
Madame Butterfly hovers over the road, dodging the endless volley of vehicles. She performs an intricate ballet, pirouetting around each bike. Twirl, twirl, flip.
She dances the Danse Macabre as if she's done so all her precious little life.
You smile to yourself. Your heart has formed an unspoken bond with Madame Butterfly already.
Suddenly, Madame Butterfly falters.
She got too carried away.
A misstep.
A stumble.
One
Tiny
Slip-up.
A bike collides with Madame Butterfly, as you watch in horror.
Her wing is broken.
Her spirit, wounded. She quietly falls to the ground, with the grace of a dead leaf.
Wings twitch, legs are going.
No sooner does she touch the ground, than three vehicles run over her body in quick succession.
Madame Butterfly is dead.
Crushed like a bug in the ground.
The bus starts to move.
Macklemore is playing on your iPod. Otherside.
She never got up, she never got up
We live on the cusp of death thinkin' that it won't be us
It won't be us
It won't be us
It won't be us
A tiny part of you died with Madame Butterfly that day.
