Norway and Amy Winehouse – they’re both important

Saturday 23 July was a pretty grim day. We woke to horrific news from Norway. A bomb blast and a massacre by a cold-hearted, right-wing gunman; the majority of his victims young. Then at around 4.30 GMT Twitter rumours started that Amy Winehouse had died. Twitter’s rarely wrong about these things. The online community held it’s breath and, alas, the jungle drums were confirmed to be correct.

A pretty grim day by anyone’s estimation.

But then something strange happened. Some people started berating those placing RIP messages for Amy. Exclaiming that anyone who felt sorry for her loss was forgetting the victims in Norway. How wrong they were!

Here’s how I see it.

Whilst the two incidents both involve untimely deaths, the nature of the victims and the scale of the situations make them very different to deal with emotionally.

Amy was famous. A singer. Her best stuff was highly personal and will have spoken to many at a deep level. Fans, especially, will have felt a connection with her and the grief they experience will be similar to when someone you know dies.

Norway, on the other hand, is of a scale that is incomprehensible to most people. The number of victims and scale of the attack are still being understood. In the weeks to come victims’ names and stories will leak out into the media. The gaps in the story will be filled and people will start to be able to comprehend the full nature of the situation.

So, you see, it’s perfectly natural to feel emotional about both events – and in different ways. Sadness about the death of a troubled, yet talented, young woman and shock at a meaningless act of violence that took countless lives.

Grief is a complex emotion. It affects everyone differently and everyone deals with it in their own unique way. So to berate someone for expressing it, or to assume that because they have not said anything they don’t feel anything, is a harsh stance to take.

Next time – think before you tweet.

Locked out of Twitter

For three days I've been locked out of my online social network. Twitter, Facebook, my email and a bunch of other random sites I use to touch base with the real world are now no longer within my grasp. I feel bereft.

Sounds dramatic? Well look at it from my position. I live in a small town in southern Italy, far away from my family and old friends who I connect with on Facebook. I've been looking for freelance work. My computer problems mean that I can't access the sites I use to search for work and as I can't get onto my email I can't see if anyone has a job for me. And Twitter? Twitter is my office water cooler. With no fixed workplace it's the place I go to swap gossip with people who have similar interests to me or who work in the same field.

So I guess saying I feel bereft isn't so dramatic after all.