NUOVA RUBRICA: foto lynchana della settimana
Ho due novità. La prima è che mi sono velocemente stufata di scrivere in inglese
e pagare il prezzo morale di correzioni basilari. La seconda è che questo sito
(???) avrà l'incredibile sezione di una foto lynchana per settimana. Il prodotto
non mira a ledere, falsificare o emulare in alcun modo l'opera dell'Artista, ma
solo di restituire in modo privo di sistematicità le vibes twinpeaksiane dei posti
che visito.
Orto Botanico di Padova.
How I ended up here
Hi. So, this is a boring post on why we should all rebuild our ego-referenced pages from HTML.
I actually won’t speak about this at all, more or less. I’ll speak about my personal journey through a burnout anxiety that emerged from using other social networks.
I'm not talking about FOMO or envy toward rich/on-holidays/happy people in general — I'm in a derealization-Nirvana where I'm barely touched by those things.
I’m talking about the constant need to look for some basic and nice stuff to fill your time while traveling to work on a packed train, with dirty hair and lost hopes.
In this search, what I end up with (and what we all end up with) is a mixed mess of content that gives nothing but an overall vacuous sense of not being able to grasp anything — and a shitshow of comments from people who just can’t help yelling their opinions thanks to the pseudo-anonymity of the internet.
This shouldn't affect me that much, but it does. It does, because I'm overloaded with a terrible feeling of precarity.
The carousel of useless stuff I disagree with is far beyond my ability to keep fighting the urge to just stay on the train for three more stops and disappear in the middle of Northern Italy with a laptop, a terrible paper on work, and my 365-day cold.
So, this is basically why I turned to an old and familiar HTML-coded page to yell to the world how tired I am of living with the privilege of getting angry because some idiot responds to an anonymous journalist complaining about the housing crisis in Milan.
I live in a constant (un)balance of ungratefulness for being an educated girl trying to get her shit together, crying only because a math demonstration fails under my hands, and the desperate need to do something useful for a sick world that my generation will passively inherit — while the parents just forgot that, while they had me, a property, and a decent income at my age, I now spend my entire salary on mental health treatments, a shitty rent, and random books I collect to find 1–2 hours of calm while secretly desiring to detonate.
I'm not making much sense, right? Well, let’s think about being trapped in the schematic code of social networks that prepackage our ability to stay in touch with a basic sense of decency, together with the terrifying urge to ask everyone to go fuck themselves.
But my will is actually to ask everyone for a very groundbreaking — but possibly low-volume — awareness of the need we have to start rebuilding our own schemas and spaces to dialogue and express opinions with boundaries that include the volition not to make other people feel like shit.
Now I may sound psychotic, but I assure you that my expectations are not that high here.
However, I was really hoping for a different start.
p.s. about my rent I lied, I also need to feed this FLUFFY BUFFY LILLY cat.
Say Hi to Mario.
