The Quixotic Jedi

I’m kind of a weirdo.  I don’t have too much of a problem admitting that.  It works like this:  like most people, I have idiosyncracies, some of which I’ve cultivated.  At some point, they may have qualified as affectations, but now they’re part of who I am.  Some of the bits of uniqueness that I’ve chosen to cultivate are ones that place me outside the realm of “normal” society.  I dig that.  I am an individual and want to be treated as such.  I fully recognize these can be ego-feeding propositions, and I will also admit that my motives were once-upon-a-time exactly that.

However, I’m trying not to be like that anymore  – an egomaniac, that is.  But I still retain foibles from the old days.

Acting in a fashion that qualifies me as a “weirdo” is kind of an amalgam of all of the above.  I’m an extremist, so I’d rather be WAY different from everybody else than be just a little bit out-of-the-ordinary.  So sometimes I act out a bit in order to be…recognized as an individual.  I want to make an impression; I want to be remembered, not forgotten among the masses.  Case in point:  you’re reading it right now.

So.  That said, it follows as a corollary that I’ve kind of a loose tongue – or, if you will, keyboard – on facebook and other social media sites.

BUT:  I don’t consider the people I meet on said social media sites to be simply electronic forms of entertainment and avenues for my own selfish ego-feeding self-expression.  I consider the people I meet on these sites (e.g. facebook and Twitter) to be real people.  People with thoughts and feelings and idiosyncracies of their own.  People whose feelings I can and will hurt if I’m not careful with my words and how they may be construed.

And, call me naive, but I kind of expect the same in return.

I believe that there’s an actual person behind the avatar, and I try to treat the person behind the cartoon avatar from Walla Walla Washington or East Bumblef*ck Australia or Canada or wherever as I’d treat the person in the next cube over from me at work or in line at the Starbucks or next to me on the mat in yoga class.  I believe in karma.  If one of my friends from the aforementioned far-from-me locations were to pass through northern NJ, I’d certainly open my home to them.

That last statement may be pushing the line a bit when viewed in the converse – I can’t really say I’d expect one of my social media friends to open their home to me, but heck, is a little politeness on the internet too much to ask?

Anyway, the point of all this is that my feelings got hurt via the internet today, and I’m pretty sure it’s my own damned fault.  A friend of mine from Twitter rejected my friend request on facebook.  I know, I know, “Boo-hoo.  Cry me a river.  Somebody call the waa-aaaambulance.”

Oh well, I’m over it.  This isn’t the first time this has happened, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.