To fill up your blog with posts from your other blogs that folks do not read is a way to populate your blog. It is not a way to write a post. It is way, I think, to trick your audience into thinking that you continue to be the prolific writer that you were; the trouble with that tactic is is that you will always know the truth – even if they don’t realise it.
You know that painful paralysing feeling of helplessness you get when you feel betrayed? It’s the same feeling – it doesn’t change based on who has cheated. It continues to be equally disgusting.
And you have to ask yourself why you cheated to start with. The answer is not usually obvious. It requires you to shut down your computer and take to paper and pencil, like I am doing, now.
Then comes that long pause just as you write that sentence; your pen hanging a few millimetres above the paper risking dried ink. In that long pause you wonder if you should go back to your blog editor instead of repeating the task, which you will have to do anyway – because what you have been writing is definitely a blog post – even if your original intentions were not to share it. It takes some determination to continue with the pen, instead of the keyboard.
And you come back to your question about cheating.
A few answers, superficial in nature, peek out of the darkness, seek your attention as potential candidates for your post’s conclusion. A couple of them seem promising and interesting enough – and will allow you to finish this post quickly. Once more, you resist the temptation. After a few more long pauses and doodles later, you see it lurking in the background; trying to hide, as if avoiding attention. You look closer and examine it.
Could this be it?
There is no certainty but something about its constitution makes you want to examine it further.
You are not entirely sure, but you get the feeling its called “The Currency of Appreciation.” And what you see on closer inspection is its devalued self. Once ten units would fill you with joy, but now you need thousands just to feel satisfied. Time and changing paradigms of interaction have eroded its value and divided its format. It is essentially the same thing that you knew – it has changed structure – it feels familiar, but it is not. We now seek more of it and we find ways to earn more of it.
It has to stop soon. Else this pursuit of collection and amassing will destroy the sanctity of my actions. And this currency is bound devalue further as more formats and methods are developed for its distribution. And we will need more units because our attention will be divided even further. It will, however, never be the question of right or wrong but of our personal choice and how many of those units we will need to carry on. More units may motivate us to do more, but choose we must between the pursuit of the units or the pursuit of our action. We cannot allow ourselves to take a path that will disturb us every time we act, question our action or doubt the creative authenticity of our actions.
The eternal struggle between the means and the magic and their interdependence will continue and continue to bother us: the means to create magic and the magic to obtain the means.
And, if we are unable to choose, we will have to find the balance between the two, perhaps with a bias to magic.
For we can live with a deficit of the means, but we need an abundance of magic.