Index Finger
- sbjct
- Jul 4, 2020
- 5 min read
Updated: Jul 5, 2020
Old folks always tell us to never point our fingers to an anthill or termite hill or random trees, because the elves and mythical creatures might think we are cursing them, and we might suffer a retribution.

This is a kindergartner painting. Look at all those blurred lines because the water smudged the ink.
It's pretty bullshit. Not because I hate boomers or I'm an arrogant millennial, but because it is a literal load of nonsense. If that is the case, that superstition is very unfair, because there are no anthills or deities in the city. They only exist in small towns far from the source of information and change. And in the city, we fear getting robbed in the streets by live people rather than dwarfs. And if those creatures really exist, then other kinds of fantasies such as isekai or the power to control the weather or the ability to turn trash into trees are much, much more preferable. If aswang stuff exists, then don't change the channel to repetitive drama plots when we are watching our favorite animé.
I would rather believe that it is not good to curse because it disrespects actual beings. If I point my fingers to an anthill because I got bitten by ants, it might disrespect the ants living their lives in the forest that I invaded. If I point my fingers to a tree because a fruit fell on my head, it might disrespect the tree which produces oxygen to the mainland. I should feel guilty for cursing actual faultless beings for the mishaps in my life. But, I don't have sympathy to the mythical creatures who purposely hide themselves to punish people for "harming" them. That's not revenge, just plain mischief.

I wasn't able to post this blog this morning because I felt ill. I don't know if it was hypoglycemia, diarrhea, ulcer, or just an elf punishing me because they thought I was dissing their clan, but what I was actually dissing was the superstition.
But one thing that this superstition highlights is the importance of responsible pointing.
When you are pointing at someone or something, you are declaring it as a focus of attention. When someone asks for direction, you point your fingers to somewhere in order to tell the other person that the answer is there. When you are reading at a rather noisy environment, you point your fingers at the words you are reading to gather your attention to those words or lines. And when you are angry at someone, you yell and point your finger to them to emphasize that your anger is towards them.
Pointing fingers is not bad per se. However, blaming other people for a mishap that they didn't cause is.
Rather than choose not to offend fairies, I'd rather not offend actual people. That's what I like to believe.

What is this annoying figure in screaming color? A filler.
Blaming can be defense mechanism. People resort to pointing fingers to assign a liability. But again, blaming is not automatically bad, since it also connects the effect to the cause, and an avoidable circumstance to the responsible person.
Rather, we should clarify which type of blaming we are branding as bad. Mindless blaming is a no-brainer activity. Too lazy to identify the cause, so just associate with anything that might have caused it. You got late for work? It's because of that old lady in front of you who doesn't know how to use a beep card, not because woke up late. Your pet ran away? It's because your neighbor waved at you pet, rather that you left your pet unattended. You cannot finish your homework? It's because of your little brother memorizing his nursery rhymes downstairs, not because you watched movies more than you should.
How convenient.

She kinda looks like she has mumps. Sorry, Kaguya-chan.
While mindless blaming is a no-no, assuming all the responsibility on your own is just as toxic.
Self-blame is just the same no-brainer activity. You cannot find anyone to blame, so you just assume it's your fault, to be safe. It's also a form of mindless blaming, but towards yourself—you harm yourself mindlessly.
People with emotional instability and social anxiety tend to do this often. I personally do this, so I'm toxic as hell if you knew me deeper. (So, how hypocritical of me writing all of this, haha.) But on a serious note, there is a healthy way of blaming. It is more of logically connecting the effect to its proper cause, making sure the cause is informed of the consequences of his past actions, and fixing the problem.

Black cats always receive blame inappropriately.
This is a toxic boomer trait that I hope the new generation does not imbibe anymore.
In real life, why is the question "Who is to blame?" being repeated a lot? Everyone involved is to blame (except the room temperature). Blame is not a strictly one-to-one relationship. Everyone has their own fair share, which everyone must realize and act on in order for us to move forward.
A fault will remain a fault as long as unfixed. There even are problems wherein the identification of who to blame should not be more prioritized than attending to the urgent need.
Finger pointing, when connoted as mindless blaming, is definitely not cool. But when it us associated with leadership or goal-setting, it sets a scalar into a vector. Of course, there are those who will argue that leaders do not fingerpoint (because they teach rather than just give orders). But let's talk about that in a separate discussion, hopefully. Haha.

This is an enlightened Pikachu.
I also don't understand how this turned out to be a lecture. I was originally supposed to talk about a literal index finger burnout—as in how my index finger always hurts because of continuous friction with the touchpad. That simple. I was supposed to talk about something like this:
Is it just me, or fingers burn out, too? I know that fingerprints are embedded into each of our DNA that they almost never fade. They just redefine themselves into our fingers even if a scratch happens to deform them. But, this prolonged busy season has greatly accelerated the depreciation of my index finger prints that my phone lock sometimes don't work anymore (haha).
It's kinda creepy. I'm an overthinker, dude. Even if the internet tells me that my fingerprint will not fade away just because of (too much) touchpad contact, I will still imagine that the friction scrapes of the little epidermic mountain ranges of my fingerprints and that the continuous exposure to this electric device gradually weakens the bond of my skin cells which could make regeneration slower. Or even if it really will never happen, all the internet's blabber cannot change the fact that my finger is damn hurting, that I have to resort to my old wired mouse but use my middle and ring finger for the left- and right-clicks.
If my index finger is burning out because of the touchpad, my thumb is burning out as well, because of too much contact with the phone screen. Because of the stay-home directive, all social meetings are converted into online meetings. If not call, we always text with our clients and teammates. Because we don't have a modem, we use our phones as wifi hotspot. So, our phones always overheat. Our thumbs touch our hotter screens more often. As a result, I have to type slower because my touch became (sometimes) not strong enough to activate certain keys, or I press incorrect keys that make me look dyslexic.

I was thinking of a cool and catchy introduction for that content. How did it turn out that I produced a multi-paragraph philosophical introduction totally unrelated to what I really wanted to write about.
Who's to blame? I wonder.
It kinda looks more natural writing in slang and casual speech, right? In the previous articles, I tried my best to remove all contractions (can't, didn't, won't, kinda...) so they look like professional blogs. This one, I wonder what happened.
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