It is odd to hear friends away from the computer call me "hurl". It is weird when someone I've known for twenty years comment my wall and call me "hurl". I simply chose the name "hurl" online because the former stoner side of me is still paranoid and is not comfortable having my real name associated with my own words and pictures on the internet.... because once you post something online, that post, those words, those pictures live on forever.
I look at Facebook like I look at my seventh grade yearbook. Sure, at the time, it was fun to hear your friends wish you a great summer. Certainly, it's funny to look back and see how goofy you looked back then. Of course, it's fun to open that yearbook and show the woman you currently love the picture of the girl who first taught you to appreciate breasts.
Yearbooks are fun. But the best part is once you are done reminiscing, you can throw the yearbook into an old box; you have the ability to pick and choose who gets to see that awkward year of your existence.
With the internet, we are not afforded that luxury. If we choose to use our real name, everything we say and do is forever the property of everyone.
I had to laugh last week when some crazy internet person claimed I hide behind a fake profile. It's this debate that should be fodder for philosophy college courses.
I thought about this accusation. "Am I hiding behind a fake profile just because I don't use my real full name?"
I don't believe so. I am exactly who I am on here as I am in real life. The only difference is I choose not to use my real name. My former pot smoking paranoid self would prefer the government believe that someone named "Hurl Ramone" hates them and not (insert real name). Hell, I would prefer my future wife not find some blog I wrote years ago about another woman and then have to listen to her whine that I may have used the same words on her as I did someone else.
Maybe I am just hyperanalyzing.
My favorite accusation came awhile back when a clearly insane individual claimed I don't post pictures on here because I must be extremely ugly. It's fascinating to hear a man in his 40's wonder if I am attractive.
I could have defended myself and relayed my concerns with giving out too much personal information on the internet. I could have told him that my vanity is reserved for the one woman I love. I could have overreacted.
Instead, I just agreed with him.... "Yes, because I don't post current pictures, it means I am extremely disfigured. And yes, the reason I don't use my real name is because my past is checkered with felonies and worldwide espionage."
But really, this isn't about this ridiculous debate of what constitutes a fake profile.
It's about feeling invisible.
I read this status from a "friend" last night. Her cancer is back. She's having financial problems and is also unable to get healthcare. What interested me most about her status was the obvious hopelessness she was dealing with at that moment and her desperate plea to be heard.
From my vantage point, it appeared she was screaming to be heard. She desperately needed some comfort at that moment.
As the hours passed, I, like everyone else, said nothing.
I am selective in my sympathy not with my empathy. I felt terrible for her but couldn't pull myself to say something.
In seventh grade, when a classmate asked me to write in their yearbook; if they weren't really someone I considered a close friend, I would be courteous and just scribble, "Have a great summer". I wouldn't dare tell them what a great friend they are or how much I care about them. In my mind, it makes the words I tell my true friends less meaningful.
I live my online life the same way.
I live my real life the same way.
But I couldn't stop the empathetic side of me. I know she was feeling invisible at that moment.
When one knows what it's like to feel invisible, that person will tend to always recognize it when someone else is feeling the same way.
It might be the worst feeling in the world to feel invisible. To speak and not be heard or to be heard but not listened to or listened to but not acknowledged.
All of our feelings and thoughts matter. When we are at our most vulnerable moments, those are the moments we should be taken the most seriously; especially by those we believe love and care for us.
After writing it, this 17 year old girl wrote me a message. She told me how much it made her cry. She spoke about how she walks the halls of her high school and always stares down. She told me that she always thinks about suicide because she believes she is ugly. Seeing how beautiful everyone around her was made her feel invisible.
My words of encouragement were few but I said what I believed to be true at the time.
It was one of the best conversations I've ever had online. It was also the most humbling experience I've had on the computer.
That word "invisible" was striking as she used it.
We came to a mutual understanding that this feeling of being invisible is not reserved for those who may look different. It's a universal feeling...
The so-called beautiful people complain about feeling invisible because noone takes a moment to actually get to know them as people. The so-called unattractive complain because they don't get attention because visually they aren't as appealing.
I know the power of not feeling significant or worthy.
Everyone can relate to feeling invisible.
After that long conversation with that 17 year old girl, I did not hear again from her until a year and a half later.
She wrote me a small message which read, "I met the love of my life. He treats me so well and always tells me I am beautiful. He proposed to me and we are getting married this summer."
A little confidence goes a long way and so does positive reinforcement.
My response to her was....
"Congratulations. Have a great summer."
I meant it.
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