I'd like to start this daylog out with a Buddhist proverb—as told by me.
So, there were these two Buddhist monks: an old master and a young initiate—because, you know, these stories always have to have an old master and a young initiate.
So, these two are walking along, and they reach a ford in the river. At the bank stands a young woman, who seems very concerned. Seems this lady can not cross the river without ruining her nice clothes.
So Old Master says: "Hop on my back, Miss, and we'll get you across the river." And she clambers up on his sturdy back, he splashes across the water and delivers her up, safe and dry, on the opposite shore. Pleasantries and bows are exchanged and our monks travel on, toward whatever destination they are seeking.
So anyway, later on down the road, Young Novice screws up his courage and says, "Hey Master?"
"Yes?"
"As monks, aren't we supposed to avoid temptations of the flesh"
"Yep, we sure are."
"And that includes touching women."
"That it does. What's your point, kid?"
"Well, back at the river, you let that woman ride on your back."
"True enough. But I left her by the river. Are you still carrying her?"
It seems that in the first decade of the 21st century, a bunch of young (and not-so-young) people wanted to have homepages, without the usual trouble and expense. The resultant sites were usually artlessly designed, confusing repositories for pictures, journals, and music (frequently by bands with exclamation points in their names, it seems).
These 'spaces' are generally jumbled and over-stuffed almost to the point of incomprehensibility. Ugly, trivial, and pointless. But what does it matter to you that a bunch of teenagers want web sites with animations of dancing cartoon characters on them?
It is not as thought someone is holding a pistol on you, forcing you to look at MySpace pages. Or FaceBook. Whatever. Unless, of course, someone is holding a gun on you—in which case, you might want to, you know, email the police or the FBI or something, since you apparently have computer access.
Likewise the blog has come into ascendancy these days. Sometimes a journal, sometimes a place for political ranting, sometimes a sort of family newsletter that friends and relatives can read (or not) as they desire. Blogs can be bone-headed, hateful, clever, witty, saccharine, idiotic or touching—mostly they are just dull and kind of useless.
But looking at a blog is something you have to choose to do. It is not even like a television show, where you have to flash past it with the remote. It requires an active effort on your part to locate the blog, you have to click links or enter URLs and maybe even search or browse to find it among the myriad other blogs out there. It isn't even like horrid internet porn, where you click a link, an image appears on your screen, and in one instant you are throwing up—and potentially scarred (or at least scared) for life. You actually have to read the blog for it to have any effect—or scan it at the very least.
In the 'movie' Mighty Jack, the international bad guy force comes up with a torture that is breathtaking in its dumbness. They stick our hero into a chamber with lights that are so bright that they will blind him. As soon as he opens his eyes, he will be blinded for life!
Now, in the real world, we would just keep our eyes shut. But in the strange world of Japanese TV shows that get recycled into movies, the hero caves instantly and begs them to turn off the light. It's a weird idea for a torture—forcing someone to do something that is basically passive anyway. It is a bit like Monty Python's comfy chair!
If you want to spend your energy hating on MySpace pages—go ahead, but if they've really gotten under your skin, whose responsibility is that? Likewise, if you turn off the computer and walk away, and you are still angry about something you read in a blog, ask yourself this: why am I still carrying it?