Technology as Symptom and Dream - Essay Example

September 9 Here in this place where I have a mission to accomplish, (to finish my studies) I hear the sound of a busy Saturday night filling the streets as people dash here and there, each attending his and her own business, if you may call it business: yes, personal business in most probability. Being a stranger in this place, native somewhere else, I feel detached and alone. But as I gaze at the computer monitor inside my room, one light barely visible outside, I feel a tug in my heart as I remember the last electronic mail I read, about our impending family reunion in Munich. And I do not feel as lonely as when I started getting out of my room. Yes, I have a family who, just like me, must be thinking about me, or other family members, about how we could placate the distance that kept us for days and months. "Through those thin wires which stretch from pole to pole outside my house, wires whose fragility is marked by their mobements in the wind generate an invisible electric web which knits together our entire globe, creating a 'global village' so that here on this island at night, when there is only the sound of the wind across the marsh and the startlight of the black sky, one can soften the isolation and believe that one is not alone." (p 1) Technology. How I appreciate the wonders it can do! Of erasing distance, and bridging time that heals. I know of many individuals who have been separated just like me from their loved ones and how difficult parting must have been. But as we all turn to the gifts human technology brought, departing is lightened up with the hope that at one point in time, I may connect with my loved ones, no matter how many miles set us apart from each other. Nevertheless, as distance may make the heart grow fonder, it has a haunting power that reminds us such as "ghosts come to visit us and perhaps, depending on one's turn of mind, to haunt us in our isolationtechnology can fill us with a false sense of understanding which robs us of the awe-ful experience which technology provides" (p 1) September The visit to the museum was one of the rare things I do. Except for school requirements, of which I had several museum visits, I have visited the place just once, or my first All tourists brochures (at least all those which I got hold of) boast of the museum, I dropped by after my meeting with a prospective business partner. There was a twisted, unglamorous and ugly sculpture I want to call a piece of distortion that reminds me of a Picasso painting. I abhor those stuffs some people have the temerity to call art at all. I heard somewhere, I don't know how reliable my source was --- Gucci an artist, but he sure did paint planets better than Picasso well, Gucci said that Picasso was like a social climber who befriended most of the elite in his time and sold them his products ugh! The distorted sculpture exorcised my irreverent thoughts, so personal, unfit for secondary viewing or reading about an artist much renowned, or maybe, respected. But I hate Picasso and his monstrous works, if there is a way that separates them. I am not sure his three-dimension style should be used as a reference at all for the development of space notions and astronauts. It just can't seem so. Maybe, I'd prefer Dali and his melting watches. "a Picasso canvas in which multiple perspectives appear simultaneously, the latter remains for us abstract and unreal while the former defines for us what is real and what is natural" (pp 32-33) September I stare at the image before me, and it stared back knowingly. My troubles are piling up, and the eyes that stared back at me reflect how insurmountable they seem to be. Would I make it through this school semester What if I won't Will my family be disappointed What about my standing in the institution where I work Would it take me back if I fail Or present them with so-so school rating I have been working like a zombie, a half-alive half-dead creature trying to blend, get accepted, or maybe, even appreciated where there seem to be nothing to appreciate at all (haha myself!). I have been wanting to get another job, something that satisfies me financially and something aligned to my plans and future (do I have one I do hope, though). But there are a lot of buts, running in my head like mouse in their nocturnal routine. A spark of light flicker in the corner of the eyes, as if to reassure me it is going to be okay. A part of me would like to argue, "The inside is the outside. All is energy and energy is all. Body melts into cosmosThe two who kiss are not alone. They are observed." P 16 September The pocket garden beyond the glass floor to ceiling window in the caf where I sometimes have my breakfast seem to glow with the mixture of morning dew and sunlight the green leaves appear greener, the yellow flowers emanate light, the mixture of colors make up a still-life painting of a distant artist, almost perfect and self-contained, unwary of the noise that surround early diners. Of the commotion that is well and alive in each of us I can say that because there is in each diner's facial expression an emotion that escapes from within, mirrored in the frown of the face, or in the tapping of a finger on the table, or cup of coffee, the movement of the eyes, or pupil of the eyes, the sliding of a spoon on the saucer As for me, I have my work and studies to think about, bills to settle, plans to materialize, if only in pen and paper "It is the silence, really, which is overwhelming: not the absence of sound --- one hears the animals, the birds, and the other sound of the bush --- rather it is silence which has no sound of the human, a landscape whose silence bear witness to our exclusion, a silence which speaks our absence. A sleepy kind of dumbness lies over this landscape of mist and bush and animal and sun and cool morning breeze and water. Earth is in repose, folded in on itself, asleep. Earth seems unconscious of itself." P 2 October 11 I heard a close childhood friend of mine died in a vehicular accident. It came as a shock, of course. We're still at prime age. Prime age for dreaming and reaching out to our dreams. It seemed no one has the right to stop us, at least not if it isn't the self Self is powerful. But, going back to my friend who according to my sister, died just yesterday, power is lost. Or is it I am not sure anymore. He is gone and would never be back, for us the living. He is definitely having gone somewhere which we are not sure of. Definite and unsure. But how do we know if he is really gone Is dying going It seemed just a while when we played like energized frogs leaping from one part of the village to another. We never stopped until we decide to give meaning to the loud voices of our parents (or sisters) calling after us, to stop. We shared toys, games, stories, secret messages, even dirt. We splattered each other with mud, one afternoon when we chanced upon the new water sprinkler at the park. It was novelty for us. And loads of childhood fun, like puppies, we played with the dancing lined sputters of water and wished it would never end. We wished we could play with it 'til kingdom come. The kingdom came when it was time for the utility men to shut the water pipes supplying water to the park sprinkler. It was the day our childhood wish died. It was just another day, anyway. And then the news. A teardrop formed in the edge of my eyes, reluctant, but it felt unforgiving, unwilling to give me the strength to hold it back. And I say a little prayer. Not for my friend for he is gone for sure. But for my own, and the rest of the living, for we are treading on un-chartered path. Unsure of the hours and days, or years ahead. If there is something to look forward to, or the need to avoid "Before Versalius the non-living body was a dead body. Dead bodies are buried with rituals of remembrance..." P 16 October I cannot help but get excited as I weave my way past unfamiliar faces in a crowd in the city. I was called upon by the company I recently applied for work (which I have been wishing in my heart and mind to call me up, and give me hope) and told me I need to attend an interview. The woman's voice over the phone said I should not hope (but hope I do) as the vacancy is limited and that there are other qualified applicants aside from me. It makes me nervous, but my excitement prevailed. I heard a good deal about the company and I have been waiting for the chance to get a call since I sent my letter of application a few weeks back. I have seen the posting in their website, and although I cannot exactly convince myself I fit in the qualification, I did submit my resume and letter of intent. I am not expecting anything at all, and the interview was far from perfect (I stammered several times trying to speak out the perfect words to answer a question). But it did lift my spirit higher than my usual days. I have nothing against my present employer, nor do I dislike it much to make me feel stoic most of the time. The job had been helpful and kept my lonesome at bay. A distraction. So, today, as I tackled the stairs from the job interview, I feel so light I seem not to touch the ground for several hours. In fact, I did volunteer a few of my opinion in our class discussion, which I rarely do, since I feel so handicapped about not speaking English very well. I have kept all these beyond me. It was enough that I got beyond the preliminary screening (the human resources secretary said there were several applicants who weren't summoned for the interview). And it made me more nervous, although inside, I was elated. "Activity has become function and expiration as respiration; communion as ingestion, digestion, elimination. The body is a technical matter, a problem to be solved. I know this body. We all know it. But it is known at a distance from life, from the body in its living situations." (p 17) I'll get to the problems later. Just let me savor the joyous feeling I have for now November 1 Murderer. I have encountered wicked characters in movies and television soap operas, or even books, maybe. I have acknowledged that all of my cousins, us --- maybe bad and naughty most of the time but none is as wicked as her... At this time, I refuse to connect and place a link between us. She places money and financial matters above anything else, would sell and extricate every centavo for each deal, to her advantage of course, and she have just gone too, far, selling marriage without the consent of the person involved. These are trivial matters. Something for the soaps, maybe. It only happened I know these people portraying the roles. But she just killed our very own family member for her own sake Did she have a heart One of the family members asked. I doubt it. She only have organs, but no heart. Brains, but no mind. Body but no soul. "The location of course, is not the issue. The eclipse of the difference between the heart as a pump and the human heart, between the technical function and human activity, is the issue. Do you think that if for one of those two electric bodies the kiss is a bitter disappointment his/her broken heart can be fixed" (p 18) November It is the season they call it Thanksgiving. And everyone seems to be thankful, and merry. In this time of the year, I have learned to send cards via e-mail, or electronic greeting cards, of which from a not-so-distant past, could have been a Japanese greeting card with a flat television or electronic screen on its cover that had a card-thin push-button which plays when touched lightly. The screen will flash of images that move not so different with what we see on television dancing manga or anime characters, or maybe, Walt Disney or Looney Toons, or beautiful garden and flower paintings that shimmer and move, dance, flicker with light, play songs, melodious tunes that hug the heart Anyway, I have sent several via e-mail to all of my friends, workmates, and family members or relatives who regularly (meaning at least once a month) send me an e-mail. E-cards are wonderful, as wonderful as our technology as each can be personalized, so much like writing the name of the celebrant on the card itself I like receiving one, too. So I send e-cards a lot. Thanksgiving makes me melancholic as I do not have people to celebrate it with. Celebrating means an exchange of pleasantries, of good things, memories and all with another, so, I feel lonesome once again by myself. Anyway, my friends invited me to join them with their families, and I did went to a colleague's family gathering, only to remind me of my own whom I cannot be with just now. "In the space of linear perspectives the viewer is imagined to be looking at the world as if through a window. This window has become our habit of mind and through it we have become a self which has learned to keep its eye upon the world" (p 67). Summary: If any at all, it is quite difficult to put up everything that were taught us, recently or through readings, association of thoughts with experiences, among other things. The book Technology as Symptom and Dream presents a parallel of technology as well as human development that incorporates art and science as one and the same. This is striking but somehow gives a strong opinion based on facts. In fact, it cannot be denied how the contents reflect the exact wonders of thoughts on individuals like me. Dr Romanshyn may not be so eloquent about the information or semblances he was trying to portray, but he definitely nailed several points about humanity and development that simply cannot be ignored. As for me, I have a lot to deal with, loads of wisdom to pack in order to grasp what is in and outside as I look over the window, in and out. Reference: Romanyshyn, R. Technology as Symptom & Dream. Routledge. Hi, 1. This the equivalent of 10 pages (2500 words +) 2. Please fix the dates to your liking 3. This is how I understood your Order. 4. If you have any other instructions, please e-mail me at marge_cruz72@yahoo.com. Best regards! Read More