If I stop posting on facebook, will you forget about me?

If I stop posting on social media, will you forget about me? 
…And our friendship, based on newsfeeds instead on memories? 

  • I first got a Facebook account to talk to friends who were “over” Myspace.
  • then, I was going on Facebook to see what other people were doing,
  • then, I posted on Facebook tell other people what I’m doing.
  • recently, I needed Facebook just to validate what I’m doing.

It saddens me that increasingly more people prioritize “socializing” whenever they do something cool- as if their own memories are not enough to make an experience real. Perhaps this moment won’t “count” if other people don’t know about it. Sometimes I too feel this: if I don’t frequently share pretty pictures or witty statuses, the world will move on and forget I exist. What’s even worse is, sometimes if I don’t get enough  “likes”, the experience itself may not be remembered as something memorable.

More than depending on social media for personal validation, I’m scared that some of my friends are using only social media to keep track of friends, and becoming dependent on newsfeed to provide them “important” updates. I’ll refrain from getting into the whole ‘false sense of relationship’ point here, but I just wanted to ask a simple question:  how often do you think about people who don’t appear in your newsfeed?

If I stop posting, will half the world forget about me?
More importantly, will you forget about me?

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I think, I’m returning to emailing my friends who live far away. Not only is it the difference between feeling noted versus being cared for, direct & personal communication is the only way I keep my friendships real.

So to my friends: I don’t ever want to feel like I’m being a better friend than what I actually am by merely keeping track of your Instagram photos. Don’t be insulted if I stop “liking” your shares, because there might be an email sent soon.

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The end of an era, HoytHoytHoyt! (A bit late)

This is a journal entry I wrote at around 2am at my last day before move-outs. Ahem… Excuse the cheesiness and broken sentences. I miss ya’ll. Sometimes I wish I can go back, but I know you are all still here and a phone call or walk away. ❤

//

Over a year ago, I walked into this room broken, in pain, withing nothing to lose, and what got me up in the morning was the thought that “welp, no amount of failure can possible hurt as much as that.”

Look at us now, 5 couchsurfers, 21/19 units, a boyfriend, bean bags, postcards, and a chibi-me all have come and gone.
I learned to not take myself too seriously. I learned that emotions are fickle.
More importantly, I learned that believing that I can matters more than actually knowing that I can.
What’s even more powerful is that for the first time in my life I felt Validated.

I was taught that I was loved, that I am loved, and oh, how sweet and scary that taste can be.

thank you, for the wine, roof, food, and infinity massages. The heart-to-heart talks and teaching me the only way I can be alone is by diving in the side of my head that’s called logic.
For teaching me that conversations can make the best books,
that the intimate outsider’s perspective can be the most valuable compass in life.
That I have a net, and all i need to do is have the faith to fall. to TRUST. that the net genuinely wants to be there and care about me.

for teaching me how to unclog sinks, mix grout, to fix shelves, and fix myself.
To love this house despite the cracks and history– to love myself despite the complexes and baggage.
and understand that some parts are meant to be fixed, while others are meant to be accepted.

I have been the most blessed person in the world.
Thank you, Hoytians. May the growth and love continue.

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HoytHoytHoytHoytHoytHoytHoytHoytHoytHoytHoytHoyt.
Always and forever, your handywoman.

And for the first time in a while

Senses muted
head down
let these lessons your fears drown.

eyes forward
deep breaths now
once again you’re safe and sound.

for now you chase nothing but hopes and dreams
and you’re heart’s no longer ripping its seams
for once and finally- you are free
hearing nothing but pounding feet
and with each step–your soul redeem.

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Distant Thoughts

The concept of distance is a strange thing. 

There is a physical distance, like space. Is space registered in the brain like an entity or a lack-there of sensory input? What is far away if you can hear it as if its 4 inches away, smell it, and feel its resonating heat so close that you restrict your movement for fear of bumping into it? Only then to open you eyes and realize that it is actually 10 feet away. What if that sensory disjuncture happened to you?

Something even trickier is emotional distance. Inspired by Bonnie’s post, I realized that some relationships need to be enforced through physical presence, words, etc. Others you can not speak or mention of each other for months but still talk as though following up on yesterday’s conversation. Sometimes distance is felt by only one party, often being the person pulling away. And of course, others run away because they feel suffocated. What exactly is feeling “close” to someone? What is feeling distant? More than conversations, commonalities, attraction, or trust. Perhaps feeling “close” is the magical result that truly is more than the sum of its parts. Channels of human bonds have been on my mind for a while, and I would love to hear your thoughts. .

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a happy jennytang is a sheep

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