This piece of dross may echoe with the sound of incoherence. If it does, I, as a blogger, if I decide to use a groupthink's opinion about the lightness of blogging, need not apologize to the reader, because I am unmistakeably exercising the one priviledge as a blogger. All the same, I am by this not telling any personal opinion about what a blog should be nor what bloggers should post. If I have many drosses to share, I'll make sure I tell it one at a time.
Yet, I think it is in the fitness of things that I apologize for the incoherence as it reflects the current state of my mind, plus a little anxiety from a personal struggle to beat smoking for good. Just mind: this post is not powered by Lady Nicotine! :)
Now I'm all set to post about nothing: Some happier days ago I took a leave from work but eventually had to cancel the family plan to do Yogya because our daughter was slightly ill. But in no way was slightly ever an appropriate word when concerning the welfare of your only child, especially when the the event in question was still unfolding! Besides, very few are the occasions when we really have full handle of the situation. Anyway, as later this little darling of ours recovered, guilty feeling was elsewhere; it didn't accompany me as I drove alone to visit some friends in one university I once attended. The last time I was really there for them I couldn't remember. Then I ended up sitting in classroom where a guest lecturer from Milan, a Russian-born American whose great grandfather--a friend told me later--once invented a machine for orgasm(!), was throwing an unpaid lecture about his cup-of-tea subject: hollographic media and psycho-physiological responses it can emanate to the viewer's attitude.
The audience itself consisted of college students and some lecturers. Most of the former were quintessential of what I had in mind about today's MTV generation should look or be: pretty similar to one another. Some of the latter were actually well known literary critics, albeit rather esoteric. Asking for our impressions in return, this outspoken lecturer then ran two bizarre films. The titles escaped me but for their short duration, they were unbelieveably boring--but of course we all paid him our best attention. Then at his prod, a literary critic commented that one of the movies was about estrangement. Another, a senior lecturer, said that it was probably something related to the Tsunami, and that it had probably been made to show how people were not sufficiently symphatethic. When our eyes met, I knew it was my turn to speak. I said I could tell you how these images were produced, but I would not go so far as to tell there was meaning in what you produced. Actually, this was my long version of saying they were b-s, but this lecturer is actually my friend's new husband. He laughed at my remarks, and said, "Yep, that's it; there is no meaning in them all" and went on with something I could reduce at something like, "To those of you in search of meaning in the many faces of media, you might as well forget it. There is no meaning." Most of the audience laughed in relief over something God only knew. There is no meaning! As simple as that; not new, but it was the first time that I had heard from someone in the flesh. I was looking for loopholes behind what had been said. I needed more context, but the situation gave me no further chance for discussion..
Now this is about the justification of which my mind seems to have been programmed for--and my heart, for some sort of denial. Is it true that today's living has ushered men to nihilism; or rather, have we reduced ourselves to nihilism and pointlessness that postmodernism has triumphed with writings that captured the very phenomenon?
