Black And White Outline Of A Daisy

A ras-le-bol of user

I'm addicted to the internets. Nothing helps, I can (almost not) live without. Almost none, because I arrived at voluntarily, when I retired to my wood témiscouatin yet impermeable cellular phone. Whenever I am confused, however, weaning may take a few hours but once the other it is always easier and return to the city, more scathing.

But in my earthly life and daily in this part of my life that is urban, I can not resist the appeal of these trips more or less long, riding a wave to surge on the other, to swallow and go: share.

I am a hippie at heart . At the trendy sauce, some say. Because I had such networks in the blood in much of my working life as a specialist in computer networks. I also experienced the heyday and the era of internets infancy: the BBS (bulletin board system), Fidonet, Francité ... The common bond of these organizations siliconiens : sharing, discovery of information and people we love and we love less. But this freedom. The freedom. That of free expression.

But I realize once again dreaming too much. The attractiveness of these communities connected is always there for me: a way to continue my process of acquiring data and information about life, about people and one or another of my passions of the moment. However, these beautiful small virtual companies, are unfortunately a reflection of the real society. With the formation of cliques, these squabbles egos vain and useless, where it says accept all people from all walks of life and advocate freedom of expression, one can suddenly disillusioned with the "do as I say, not what I do. " I abhor. At point that the urge to loudly denounce haunts me. Friends sympathetic to this view have been able to draw quietly, without making waves. I admire them so much. And I want to scream.

What I'm sick of that justifies censorship blows respect. We can respect and not share the opinion of the other. We can even meet his opponents. And in the words of a colleague, we can not respect others while remaining civil. Respect is earned. Some have to default and the other for them, respect is something that gets lost.

When issued, it is to be captured. And if one speaks or writes, one must assume that a replica of a legitimate right to exist, that it is positive or negative.

You can not share my point of view. I myself have no power to force you. You can even tell me by commenting in the wake of this post. And it has nothing to do with respect. I am at home here, but I'm always ready to hear you.

You do not even have to love me. And I know too well that if you do not like this blog, nothing obliges you to return. Your visits, would they repeated a couple of times is a sign of encouragement. Although, stubborn and opinionated as I am, I still scribloguer.

But as so aptly Luôar Yaugud " toutte is in toutte . Internets and small microcosmic societies have their pros and cons: I do not come back probably crack share in some communities, the final being held rather bleak. It's like a tip, generally not mandatory, but the return is a great way to show appreciation. When there is more pleasure ... it fades gradually. Simply.

Respect, it can be lost.

It can also be returned ...

* This text is a form of therapeutic writing to evacuate ...