2019 a fost un an complicat, dar printre toate câte s-au întâmplat, am reușit să bag și timp pentru lecturi. Nu cât aș fi vrut, dar tot e mai bine decât deloc. Și oricâte aș vrea să rămână în 2019, cărțile lui nu-s printre ce mi-aș dori să las în urmă, așa că voi face aici o retrospectivă sumară.
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Știu, nu-i propriu-zis o carte, ci o revistă. O revistă care, o dată pe an, adună tot ce a fost bun în cultura contemporană, în arte, în societate, le împachetează frumos, în hârtie bună, frumos desenată, și le dă drumul în lume. Așa am descoperit artiști vii, apropiați de mine, oameni care bat țara în lung și-n lat ca să-i afle durerile, dar și oameni care pun în culori cele mai expresive imagini.
Cumva, cred că peisajul românesc avea nevoie de revista asta, pe de-o parte ca să nu uite că, ușurel și cu metodă, facem totuși și lucruri bune, și pe de altă parte ca să i se amintească faptul că, nu, cultura română n-a murit odată cu Grigorescu, Slavici, Alecsandri și Eminescu. Doar că, așa cum se întâmplă mai mereu, s-a schimbat la față, iar noi suntem datori să acceptăm și să încercăm să cunoaștem mai bine schimbarea asta.
Un bărbat pe nume Ove
O să încep prin a spune că acest roman e un cadou ce n-a mai ajuns să fie făcut, iar atunci când am înțeles că, într-adevăr, viața chiar e ce se-ntâmplă în timp ce-ți faci planuri, am decis să-l citesc.
Auzisem multe voci care-l lăudau pe Fredrik Backman, și nu știam dacă să le dau sau nu crezare, așa că am zis să încerc, să mă conving. Și m-am convins. Un bărbat pe nume Ove spune povestea bătrânului Ove care, exact ca-n zicala românească, vrea să moară, dar nu-i lăsat. Mereu apare altceva, altcineva, altă treabă de care meticulosul și tipicarul Ove trebuie să se ocupe, și sinuciderea e mereu când amânată, când eșuată. Un roman scris fără prea mari împopoțonări, cu un limbaj viu, dinamic și actual, care aduce în prim-plan personaje complexe, dar și teme mari, cum ar fi iubirea, relațiile interetnice, prietenia, și chiar viața. O carte despre pierderi, dar și despre refuzul de a pierde ce ți-a mai rămas, un roman scris nu ca să țină o predică, ci ca să spună o poveste. Și, trebuie să recunosc, o carte al cărei film e la fel de bun pe cât e romanul, ceea ce nu pot spune prea des.
Mojar și alte poeme care nu există
Vorbeam mai sus despre cultura română contemporană. Dacă e un autor contemporan pe care să-l consider cel mai bun, el e Valeriu Mircea Popa. Dincolo de povestea demnă de-un scenariu de film a vieții sale, e, după mine, cel mai bun poet al nostru. Poemele sale au darul de a-ți vorbi, de a trezi în tine emoție, drag, mirare.
Recunosc, l-am descoperit târziu, vara trecută, și eram ușor circumspectă. Dar volumul de mai sus m-a convins că eram doar o altă ignorantă, care ar fi vorbit înainte să știe. E un volum scris cu nerv, cu suflet, o lectură la finalul căreia regreți că nu poți îmbrățișa autorul, dar și cu speranța că poate mai pregătește ceva.
Recomand volumul lui oricui are înclinație spre poezie, ca autor sau cititor, dar și celor care se plâng de starea deplorabilă în care a ajuns cultura română astăzi. Nu, domnilor, n-a ajuns deloc într-o stare atât de proastă, doar că despre diamantele contemporane cu noi se vorbește prea puțin. Iar în loc de concluzie, sau de argument final care să convingă, o să las aici unul dintre poemele mele cele mai dragi din volum.
uneori
uneori
puținul se multiplică
și devine într-atâta de greu
încât abia îl poți duce
și puținul este acest
un cântec rusesc
redepănat în minte
o înghițitură de votcă
plutind sub cerul gurii
și mesteceni
prin suflet
Pentru mine una, așa a arătat ”topul” celor mai dragi tipărituri citite în anul ce s-a dus. Poate nu sunt cele mai bune, obiectiv vorbind, dar uneori obiectivitatea e în plus. Sper ca anul ce tocmai a început să aducă titluri la fel de bune, și, de ce nu, recomandări care să mă ajute să descopăr mai mult din lumea în care trăiesc.
We live, as mom once said, interesting times. In today’s fast and furious world, one can do with less sleep, but not with less social-media. We talk with our loved ones, read, share photos, music, thoughts with others, and, when we put things this way, social media seems to be an inoffensive, happy place. But this is also the problem.
As going through my own recovery journey, I’ve became fully aware of something that I used to know only as a theory: social media is doing more harm than good in the process.
This happens because no one on social media is really honest. We share the bits that we love from our lives, the highlights, and this is how the fraud begins. We are creating a perfect image for the others, but, in exchange, we tend to forget that they’re doing the same thing. We tend to forget that, for some people, social media is a career, what they do for a living.
And that’s how the harm is done. By comparing our raw, unfiltered real life, with the fake, perfect lives of the social media people. We look up to them, take them as standards, and then we’ll look back at ours and see the huge differences between them.
This is how any progress gets lost in the long run, just because we tend to forget the essential: there are no two recovery journeys alike. Every single one is unique, intimate and special. Share yours if you feel like it, but don’t take other people’s perfect social media lives as goal or comparison terms.
Because, if there’s something worth saying about it, then would be the fact that social media is a very, very powerful tool. It connects different people, different stories, different images form all over the world, in no time. This can make or break any kind of mental progress a person’s trying to achieve, being the main reason why social media should be used wisely.
I don’t say that being active on social media is bad. Actually, I spend a lot of time online. But, as I’ve started this rather uncalled for mental health journey, as old scars have opened again in front of me, hurting, I became more aware of the social media influence on me.
Social media, with all the perfect photographs, fueled my body insecurities. I know, it sounds childish, but being overexposed to so many images of perfect bodies constantly has only made me feel worse about mine. Even if, in the back of my mind, I was totally understanding that some of those perfect bodies are the byproducts of a whole team, usually consisting in fitness trainer, dietician, make-up artist, hairstylist, photographer, and the almighty Photoshop.
Even so, I couldn’t help, but ask myself Why am I not looking like that, or even close, at least? and fantasizing about how my life would be better if I’d be prettier- the social media kind of prettier. That was my revelation moment, when I’ve started to unfollow the accounts that were making me feel bad with the way I look.
And that was also the point where I’ve decided that it’d be a good move to unfollow all the accounts that I recognize having harmful potential. It might not be the easiest decision, but it was one of the best taken on this: to unfollow, unfriend and block every single one that made me feel less than enough.
Because, one of the social media’s wonders is that, even though you’re surrounded by content all the time, you choose what kind of content will surround you. And understanding this was a total game-changer. My feed started to look different: more young artists, more mental-health-supportive, more visual (and in a very, very good way, as I’ve discovered a whole world of photographers and illustrators hidden by all those IG models), and, generally, much more uplifting.
Of course, social media connected me with people that helped me become the individual I am today, awesome people I couldn’t see myself without, but I’ve also met people that, by having contact with them or simply seeing their posts, were awakening my, so-thought, long time burried unworthiness feelings. But, at the end of the day, when I’ve acknowledged for real what it means that my mental health an well-being are at stake, I’ve managed to understand things at a deeper level. To take them more serious.
By continuously looking for answers, as my mental state was worse, I found some, not only about body image, on my relationship with social media. I’ve discovered that social media has a serious impact. More than I’ve thought before it could have. It brought up strange, yet common mix between addiction, exhaustion and not feeling good enough.
It is easy, when you’re a perfectionist nature, to mix all these things up. You want to get that perfection that seems so achievable in the online.
Because, if you’d ask me, I’d say that is the biggest problem with social media: that it makes perfection look ordinary. It makes you believe that having the perfect job, perfect body, perfect relationship, perfect outfit, perfect house or vacation is not only something that everyone could reach, but that it is so common, that you must do something wrong somewhere if your life ain’t perfect.
And this could be seriously draining for one’s emotions and psychic, even if that individual faces a mental condition or not. It could, if used carelessly, make the individual develop some sort of condition, in time. This is why we have to change the approach. To post relevant content for who we are, regardless if it is matching the trend or not, and be careful about what messages we receive from the accounts that we decide to follow. Also, there is this little thing that, kept in mind, will certainly do the difference.
The truth is, again, that nothing will ever be perfect. Not in the real, daily life. Here everything has ups, downs and stopping points. We have normal bodies, each of them special and beautiful in its very own way, and lives that can be just as pretty as we allow them to be.
Because, if you get out of the social media thing for a second, you’ll see that the world is still a pretty place, and life is still beautiful. That there are people who genuinely love you and care about you, even if they don’t tag you everywhere, spend every free minute of their lives with you or shower you with gifts. That your followers are not a way to measure your worth as a human. And, generally, that there is life outside the social media, too, and we have to live that.
We have to live it unapologetically, without any kind of filters. To stop trying to please everybody, to speak more of our minds, to share our feelings and thoughts more. Because a life doesn’t have to be picture-perfect to be worth enjoying it.
Actually, what we see on social media is not a life. Is a collage made of cut-outs. A big painting made of the tiny detalis that used to be the highlights of every day, week, month, year, but arranged in such a way that they’d eventually fit. Everyone out there is building a social narrative of their lives, based on the moments that made them feel and look good.
Even if they don’t put it on display, people still have bad days, periods when everything seems to be wrong. And it’s ok to be like this, as long as the bad times are part of what it means to be human.
Of course, talking on social media about the struggles of existence is a wonderful trend, that I really hope it would last a lifetime. But, in the meantime, things tend to remain the same as they were when, talking to a friend about what made me write this articles series I’ve told her that I do it because I have nothing to lose anymore. If I’d have the smallest thought that I could lose something, that I would be judged, or that my loved ones or the people whose opinions matter to me would look at me differently, I wouldn’t write a line.
But I have nothing left to lose anymore, so I keep writing, hoping that these pieces of text help. Live the life your own way, and, when you’ll have your next scroll, keep always in mind that what you see on social media and what you get in real life can be two really, really different things. No one has it all, and for sure not all the time, but getting guilt trips over not being able to reach social media’s ideals of living is not a thing we should let happen any sooner.
Scroll down wisely, and keep in mind that the reality happens always offline, what we get on social media are just some beautifully crafted postcards from it.
Lumea Lucretiei 