I am not what I am

Identity is undeniable, if not easily identifiable. Much effort has gone into preserving this indisputable fact, for its existence is solely dependent on people who are unable to recognise it otherwise. There are two ways to go about it. Establishing own identity against everyone or everything else. Or establishing everyone’s or everything’s identity against the own one. Either of the two demands same amount of effort and results in the same result. That is independent of whether or not one reaches the desired result. If you are lazy enough, it is not really hard to see the futility of the effort and respect the fact that identity is anyway undeniable.

Me too live on the same earth billions other share. Me too eat, drink, and think the same things million others do. Me too like and dislike things that thousands of others love or hate. Me too say things hundreds of others can agree with. Me too agree with many. And me too disagree with more.

It is in this context, I bring up a question that was asked once, and a few times again, when I told about my blog to someone or other. What does my blog talk about, was that natural question. The answer is insignificant, but the question is not. And it is this significance of the question and the insignificance of the answer was I explaining in the beginning.

Blog, as all the readers might know, is an acronym for web log. But, just like anything else, a web log too couldn’t resist just being what it is meant to be. It is not just a log on web anymore, I was told by experts in blogging. Sophistication, very simply, is part of growing up. And very natural, or more specifically, very human.

There is this guy, who keeps a log on web. Who writes about the mundane life he lives. Every day. Which is of any interest to him, or anybody else. One of his posts reads something like this.

Thursday. It’s a very boring day. Not much different from a Wednesday or a Friday. Tired of the boredom I decided to get out of home. And I did. It was hotter and a lot more monotonous outside. So, I concluded the boredom of being alone at home is better than the boredom of being a stranger outside, and got home. Waiting for tomorrow.

And there is this girl living in Bagdad and keeps this blog, which talks about her life there. She writes quite beautifully about a really bad life in a country governed by a bunch of puppets dancing to the tunes of the occupied aliens. Of these two, the former is ridiculed and called a blogohole. The latter is acclaimed as one brave effort, and businessmen among the aliens occupying her country made profits by acquiring publishing rights of her blog content. She’s humbled. And all her readers, including me, were told what to respect and what should not.

If you too are one of those self-centric individualists like me, you too can see it just like the way I see it. The examples I just mentioned have a lot in common. Both of them are writing about things that cannot generate any interest in people, who are accustomed to the same circumstances and thus having no curiosity left. Intentions of both were the same – the hope of having a missing listener. Judgement is always a third-party affair. Me too agree with the majority and prefer reading the latter to the former, for reasons that are important to me and probably are insignificant to the writers of those blogs. It is just another instance where the receiver has the power to evaluate what the provider offers. One person’s opinion doesn’t have the same value as another, but is independent of the majority or minority status of its supporters.

Me too, just like any other blogger, hopes to be read and appreciated by as many readers as possible. It would be very difficult for anyone to disagree with people, who agree with him or her. I would be using this space to publish my thoughts, if not my log. And to keyboard some that are already penned down, and some that might occur to me in the course.