Social Media Addiction

Social Media addiction is one of the biggest troubles facing modern society today, although it is rarely tweeted about. Many programs exist to rescue people from addiction, such as 'The Program To Rescue People From Social Media Addiction' (TPTRPFSMA), which has weekly meetings every Monday on the organization's Facebook Fan Page.

Max Loggon, the founder of TPTRPFSMA admitted to me in a recent interview that getting their message across can be difficult: "We want to be modern and relevant, so we reach people on Facebook and Twitter even though we are trying to help people to stay away from these sites, especially as addiction has been proven to lower brain cells lol. wot r u up 2 anyway?"

Many psychologists say that the key to getting people to stop being addicted to Social Media is to get them to go outside, although this has been challenged by many academics because the outside tends to be where "all the best WiFi is". It's been proven that Social Media is a lot more addictive than traditional cigarettes, even though it is far more difficult to smoke.

Much has been written about the similarities between Social Media Addiction and Sexual Addiction. I hired an assistant, Nancy Yespleese, to help me study this more closely. I wanted to find out what she'd be more addicted to - sex with me, or Twitter. Unexpectedly, we fell in love with each other while doing the experiment, but sadly, two months later she broke up with me. I pressed her for a reason, and she finally came clean and told me she'd been having affairs with 139 other characters.

Whether Social Media Addiction exists or not is hard to say. I asked this very question on Facebook today, and as of seven seconds ago, nobody has responded, although someone did like the picture of me next to a penguin from Greece in 2007. I think people miss the point when it comes to Social Media, it's actually a terrific way to meet people and, best of all, you don't even have to see them face to face.

If you have any opinions on this topic feel free to tweet me your Facebook details so I can get Linked In with your Skype account.

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Top Five Self-Help Tips

1. To truly succeed with self-help, do what has worked for others.

2. Visualize what you want, unless you want visualization. In which case visualize visualization.

3. Follow The Bible (unless it takes a left when approaching Orlando).

4. If you believe it, you can have it, unless someone else believed they can have it, in which case toss a coin.

5. Be grateful, especially for the word grateful, which was originally going to be called Frackendoplleflaff (the K is silent, due to trauma).

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The Mystery Of The Moon

Just discovered this short story I wrote when I was nine years old. Not all of it makes sense, but I thought you might like to read it. The writing in red is what my teacher wrote, and the red markings in the story are my teacher's corrections (as best as I can translate from page to print.)

One night Charlie was looking at the moon when suddenly he saw something moving on it. Charlie phoned Luke and Kenny and told them about the moon. They came to Charlie's house and looked at the moon. Kenny said it was just an astronaut but luke said "you ain't got a brain dude it's a man from Mars that's on the moon you stupid dummy!". Charlie was the youngest he was 7 (seven) and he said "It looks like an elephant".

Kenny had an idea of sending a rocket to explore the moon. Kenny phoned a metal company called Masters Of Metal. He bought some metal. The total cost was over 1,000 pounds. To get the metal Luke gave 200 pound, Charlie gave 400 pound and Kenny Gave 35 pound and they boroughed (borrowed) the rest off their Dad's. Some experts made it look like the moonlander. It took only three months to make. It was called the moonlander. Instead of sending astronauts they sent nobody. They sent up automatic cameras to photograph the thing that was moving. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, take off". It launched off to space. 

Good so far but please finish. 

2 Weeks later they were preparying for the moonlander to land.  The moonlander was in the sky and in was Getting nearer and nearer to Earth. When it landed it looked dirty and old. Charlie, Luke and Kenny ran up to the moonlander took out the pictures and took them home to look at. "Look look I've found a picture with a big red body and it's got an orange head" said Luke. "No it's not you just spilt tomato ketchup and beans on the photograph". The next night Charlie saw the monster on the but there were no photographs of it. Charlie, Kenny and Luke didn't have photographs to prove there was a monster. Sadly for the rest of their lives before they died they could never prove there was a monster. 

Interesting ideas.

Coming soon, SPACE ADVENTURE, another short story I wrote when I was 9!

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Basically

The writers went all crazy mental trying to write a script that would sell, and then they gave up and tried to write something from the heart, but no-one cared so they tried to write a script that would sell, again. The actors were desperate to land the roles so they sent emails to all the casting directors and went to the networking parties and smiled and blurted out answers about all their 'current projects'. The producers told everyone how Colin Firth was attached to their projects, and they told all the people at the parties how they were nearing production, and they told investors they needed money for production, and they told everyone else how they had all the money and guaranteed distribution and a guaranteed amazing project.

People got crazy depressed about how their dreams rapidly disappeared into the night like specks of snow that never quite settled. They'd wake up in the mornings with a plan, and go to bed with an emptiness soaring through their hearts. The plan was to be accomplished by 17, by 21, by 30, by 50. People smashed their souls down on paper and on screen and on answering machines, begging for opportunities and together thousands of people at any one time fired forth, determined to create or be a part of the next masterpiece.

Some youngster got a lucky break, and someone slightly older stopped getting lucky breaks; and everyone danced a fine line between hearts filling and hearts breaking.

Everyone stayed mad crazy busy and fought fought fought to achieve something nearing anything, just so they could sleep sound at night. Just so they could feel it had all been worth it. They all kept getting closer and closer to getting somewhere near where they thought their lives would be. But when they got closer, it hurt more when it turned to dust right in front of their eyes. 

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Writing

I was thinking about how much of it comes from the heart. How much of it comes from needing to express something.

And how much of it comes from that nagging voice inside that cries "write write write!" like a broken record.

I write an astonishing amount, you have no idea. I am always working on scripts, articles, blogs, short stories, humorous status updates, lengthy email rants, and whatever else comes up. It's a constant. I have a group of friends who receive mini-fictional things from me on a near daily basis. I know it's not my best material, but they're very polite about it.

It's weird because those who know me think I just joyfully whip these pieces out of nowhere, just for fun. But so much of it is anything but.

I am writing this close to midnight. So many of my blogs come not out of creativity, but out of a constant voice in me that yells "write damnit write!". It's a constant pressure that, after years of being tweaked and improved, is able to force pretty good material out of me.

But it's not my best. The best comes when I let go, when I get away from my brain, when I experience new things, when genuinely new and unexpected insight comes.

Of course, this is very rare. I get too caught up in being 'the writer' and forget to live.

More often than not, these days, I have to talk myself out of writing; I write outwardly like I take caffeine inwardly -- it's an addiction. I force it out. So often I'm ten pages into a script or two paragraphs into a blog without even realising I've started them. It's like brushing my teeth, it just happens.

In many ways this helps me succeed as a writer.. I've put the hours of practice in. I got good. I can create material quick.

But pushing too much makes me lose the passion, it zaps the fun out of it, makes it harder to find the innocence and life in my words. Ambition, drive, work-rate, they're all great, but they can be destructive too.

I don't sleep. So much of that is because I think I've wasted the day and not created a masterpiece. So I stay up hatching some plan, which of course turns out to be terrible, because I'm so worn out by my crazy brain which screams "write, write, write" every moment of every second.

It takes discipline to write but it also takes discipline to not write.

I just wanted to share a bit about my crazy writer's issues, I hope you found it interesting.

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