While on vacation in the lovely world of Disney, I had my cell turned off to avoid all those crazy roaming charges. There is nothing worse than arriving home recharged and relaxed only to be served with a maxed out account charge. Being disconnected except by Wi-Fi in the hotel suite was a welcome relief. It was nice not to be alerted every time someone changed their online mind or ordered brunch. It was calming to relate to those corporeal beings in my midst. Life was immediate and without the influence of the outside world. No internet gratification; I was still alive…and loving it.
Here’s the thing…I am slightly obsessed with checking up on the interweb. I constantly scroll through FB, monitor my blog stats and try to compose witty tweets.. or twits *insert wink followed by an oh brother eye roll. My mobile devices are stocked with reading material, study notes, topical blog ideas and Pintrest. Not to mention the online mall trolling I can daydream my way through on Etsy and Amazon. And let me just say, most of my carts are full. I mean, with all this happening how am I supposed to get anything done? I don’t know what to focus on. I am torn in 50 different apps and accomplishing nothing. And leaving those who are present, feeling not so gifted.
If you had told me 5 years ago that I would be attached at the thumbs to my smartphone, I would’ve called you a conspiracy theorist with a futuristic sense of humour. Those were the days before my daily blog. Before I would prefer the ease of a text. Before I started missing those familiar voices. Before I had 6 different accounts for each social outlet. Now, I have trouble remembering which Catfish identity I am at any given time. I crave the simpler times…sort of.
I was reminded how nice it is to be disconnected. But I would miss writing my daily whimsical thoughts or under-marketing myself. I am torn between getting things done and surfing between them. The web spins a trap as tightly as any spider, sucking my attention away from the fast flying NOW. The things I need to focus on being interrupted by something shiny, pretty and surreal. It’s as dangerous as any Nigerian Prince and as phony as Bill Gates sending us all $50,000 just for sharing this post. So folks, it boils down to this: If it’s so important George Takei will re-post it. Like a character in my screenplay says: I don’t read the local paper. If it was something really important, someone would tell me. I couldn’t have said it better myself;)
meliciousmanners 