Problem
You know that moment when you see something on the internet -- it could be a facebook post, a tweet, a text from a friend, a blog post, whatever -- and it amuses you. Maybe you smile, or maybe a little breath of air leaves your nose, or maybe it's just sort of an inward glow of good humor. Whatever your reaction is, you were amused, but -- and this is key -- you didn't laugh.
Now comes the dilemma. "I found this amusing," you say to yourself, "and I'd like to reward this person for their mildly entertaining sense of humor." And, as we denizens of the internet know, one of the quickest and easiest ways of responding positively to something amusing is to type out the letters "LOL," or Laugh Out Loud. (Contrary to an urban legend that's been going around among people of my parents' generation, these letters do not stand for "Lots of Love." For example, do not message your child and say, "Your friend is in the hospital. LOL.")
But as an ethical internet user (as I hope my readers all strive to be), can you type "LOL" when you haven't actually LOL'ed? Is it right to give the impression that this person's attempt at humor has caused an actual physical act of laughter when it has, at best, caused a slight lift of one corner of your mouth? This dilemma has turned me off of using "LOL" in my internet conversations, and I have now resorted to the much less fraught "ha ha" or "heh."
My problem now is, sometimes someone manages to be so funny that I actually do LOL. I am sitting at home in front of my computer screen, and I see something that entertains me so much I cannot help but physically release a sharp burst of air through my vocal chords, causing sound waves to vibrate out through the air around me. In such instances, I wish to let this person know how deeply their wit has touched me, but the expression "LOL" has been so cheapened by overuse that I can no longer use it safe in the knowledge that my meaning has been conveyed. Whatever shall I type?
Solution
May I introduce you to a new acronym: LLOL. This stands for "Literally Laughed Out Loud." While it may appear to be a silly tumblr-style faux typo, it is in fact an innovative new mode of communicating your appreciation of others' wit and witticisms. So go ahead and use it, my friends! I have created it for us all to enjoy.
You're welcome.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Nostalgia is the Enemy
Tomorrow it will have been one year since I moved from Japan back to Texas. One whole year. I still can't quite grasp the truth of that. I've been living in DFW for twelve months now, but I just can't shake the feeling that Japan is my entire past.
What have I done with this year? I've got a job, a car, an apartment, a roommate. All the tangibles are more or less in place. But at any given moment, I'm not really here.
In fact, I often think that I'd much rather be anywhere but here. Back in Japan, of course, or off on a new adventure in another country. But even the idea of returning to Abilene or Victoria sounds somewhat appealing -- somewhere familiar where there are people I know and love.
That's the one thing I'm really missing here: a community. I remember when I first moved to Japan -- in fact, you can probably scroll down and read my post about it for yourself -- the immense sense of loss I felt at having left behind my college friends. Back in Abilene I was part of a tight-knit community that formed around a common interest in social justice and a common inability to quite fit into the mainstream of our college's culture.
That group of people was a huge part of making me the person I am. Leaving them behind was wrenching, and at the time I wondered if I had made a terrible decision, abandoning something that had felt so right and good. Reading back over my post from November of 2010, reading about how my new friendships simply weren't as satisfying as the old ones had been -- it's comforting to know that person's future already. She didn't know it at the time, but those fragile new relationships she was so tentatively cultivating would become the fabric of a new community -- a new community she would come to cherish as dearly as the one she had just left.
What I wouldn't give to go back to November 2010 and be that me again, surrounded by those people and with all those experiences still ahead of me. And herein lies the problem with my present -- Nostalgia is the enemy of moving the f*** on with your life. (Nostalgia is the mindkiller. Nostalgia is the little death that brings total obliteration.)
This is how I find myself where I am now, as a person who would rather sit at home alone on her computer talking to people on other continents about their lives, than go out and make a life of her own. Because, frankly, those other lives are more real to me than my present reality. And because what lies just behind me is so much happiness that I can't imagine what comes next ever measuring up.
How does one escape a happy past? How does one kill nostalgia?
I will face my nostalgia. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past--
This video is the enemy.
What have I done with this year? I've got a job, a car, an apartment, a roommate. All the tangibles are more or less in place. But at any given moment, I'm not really here.
In fact, I often think that I'd much rather be anywhere but here. Back in Japan, of course, or off on a new adventure in another country. But even the idea of returning to Abilene or Victoria sounds somewhat appealing -- somewhere familiar where there are people I know and love.
That's the one thing I'm really missing here: a community. I remember when I first moved to Japan -- in fact, you can probably scroll down and read my post about it for yourself -- the immense sense of loss I felt at having left behind my college friends. Back in Abilene I was part of a tight-knit community that formed around a common interest in social justice and a common inability to quite fit into the mainstream of our college's culture.
That group of people was a huge part of making me the person I am. Leaving them behind was wrenching, and at the time I wondered if I had made a terrible decision, abandoning something that had felt so right and good. Reading back over my post from November of 2010, reading about how my new friendships simply weren't as satisfying as the old ones had been -- it's comforting to know that person's future already. She didn't know it at the time, but those fragile new relationships she was so tentatively cultivating would become the fabric of a new community -- a new community she would come to cherish as dearly as the one she had just left.
What I wouldn't give to go back to November 2010 and be that me again, surrounded by those people and with all those experiences still ahead of me. And herein lies the problem with my present -- Nostalgia is the enemy of moving the f*** on with your life. (Nostalgia is the mindkiller. Nostalgia is the little death that brings total obliteration.)
This is how I find myself where I am now, as a person who would rather sit at home alone on her computer talking to people on other continents about their lives, than go out and make a life of her own. Because, frankly, those other lives are more real to me than my present reality. And because what lies just behind me is so much happiness that I can't imagine what comes next ever measuring up.
How does one escape a happy past? How does one kill nostalgia?
I will face my nostalgia. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past--
This video is the enemy.
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