A brief note that I tell myself is for others out there in cyber world, but is in reality probably just for myself as there aren't nearly as many people out there in cyber world who care about this as I tend to think:
More frequently than I would have liked had I a choice, there have been many occasions in recent years where I have been unplugged for a prolonged period of time. Unplugged from the Internet, that is.
Even though I wouldn't have chosen it, however, as it's happening, it hasn't been so bad. In case you didn't know that life can still continue without the Internet, I am here to testify that it can. I do miss things, but as the Beatles say, life does indeed go on. I move on. And it really is okay.
The biggest trouble I have with unplugging is plugging back in. It's like I have to start over every time I go through this cycle. My email gets piled to the sky. All the blogs I follow collect stacks of unread posts - posts I want to read, but which take up a big chunk of time as most everyone I subscribe to seems to be as verbose as I am. And then I want to jump back in and blog again, but I don't know where to start. When I know I'm unplugged, I lose the blogging frame of mind, and the regaining of it does not happen in the snap of a finger.
Those are just a few examples. I could give more, but I won't, lest my many words lose their value. My point has been made, and I am currently facing that point and trying to get plugged back in now that my grandma is well enough to not need a live-in caretaker.
So my stack of email is dwindling. I'm starting to check up on some of my Facebook friends again. But I feel half-hearted in all of it. I want to do it. But it's so much trouble. And if the pattern continues, it won't be long before I'm unplugged again and all of my efforts will seem just about pointless.
Why is that relevant enough for me to be talking about in this context? I want to get back to posting substance on this site more regularly, but then again I don't. Or, more accurately, I haven't convinced myself yet that it's worth the trouble in light of everything else that I'm trying to catch up on. I think I'll get there, but it's going to take a while. But then when I consider that it'll take a while, then I also consider that by the time the while passes, I may be knocked back down to the starting point again, facing another while before I get on my feet.
That, my friends, is what is on my mind. I intended about two paragraphs when I started. I guess that's what happens when I forget my propensity for verbosity.
More frequently than I would have liked had I a choice, there have been many occasions in recent years where I have been unplugged for a prolonged period of time. Unplugged from the Internet, that is.
Even though I wouldn't have chosen it, however, as it's happening, it hasn't been so bad. In case you didn't know that life can still continue without the Internet, I am here to testify that it can. I do miss things, but as the Beatles say, life does indeed go on. I move on. And it really is okay.
The biggest trouble I have with unplugging is plugging back in. It's like I have to start over every time I go through this cycle. My email gets piled to the sky. All the blogs I follow collect stacks of unread posts - posts I want to read, but which take up a big chunk of time as most everyone I subscribe to seems to be as verbose as I am. And then I want to jump back in and blog again, but I don't know where to start. When I know I'm unplugged, I lose the blogging frame of mind, and the regaining of it does not happen in the snap of a finger.
Those are just a few examples. I could give more, but I won't, lest my many words lose their value. My point has been made, and I am currently facing that point and trying to get plugged back in now that my grandma is well enough to not need a live-in caretaker.
So my stack of email is dwindling. I'm starting to check up on some of my Facebook friends again. But I feel half-hearted in all of it. I want to do it. But it's so much trouble. And if the pattern continues, it won't be long before I'm unplugged again and all of my efforts will seem just about pointless.
Why is that relevant enough for me to be talking about in this context? I want to get back to posting substance on this site more regularly, but then again I don't. Or, more accurately, I haven't convinced myself yet that it's worth the trouble in light of everything else that I'm trying to catch up on. I think I'll get there, but it's going to take a while. But then when I consider that it'll take a while, then I also consider that by the time the while passes, I may be knocked back down to the starting point again, facing another while before I get on my feet.
That, my friends, is what is on my mind. I intended about two paragraphs when I started. I guess that's what happens when I forget my propensity for verbosity.
Thanks for sharing what's on your mind, Em. I'm one of those verbose people too; this was about as brief as I could keep it.
ReplyDeleteLet me know if this is just me -
There's also a certain sheen to the Internet that I don't miss when I'm unplugged. Online, lives, even in tumultuous times, seem too neatly bottled within their applications. I can close the laptop lid and walk away from the joys and sorrows scrolled on screen without any implications of responsibility or action.
Is this overglossing unique or pronounced online, or is this a reflection of real, fallen life?
Here's another way of thinking about it: Don't we all have to walk away from each other eventually, go our separate ways? Don't others' lives always seem too perfect or too broken compared to our own, whether I see them on the News Feed or in passing at the store?
I cherish your perspective, Jaclyn. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteI do think that the "overglossing" you describe is pronounced in the realm of social networking. It's easier to hide behind words than it is to hide physically. But I don't see it extraordinarily pronounced, particularly in cases of people who try to be honest. If people are hiding on Facebook, then they're likely also hiding when you run into them in the grocery store.
I don't know that I'm as affected by the "sheen" as you are. Conversely, it's the disingenuous face-to-face encounters that leave me feeling exasperated with humanity. I expect for postings on the Internet to be only a partial representation of a person, but I always hope for more from personal encounters. In my experience, I actually have known people who are more honest online than they are when you're in the room with them. Maybe you haven't had that experience, so you wouldn't know, but that drives me up the wall. Could be that I know a rather extensive number of fearful, socially challenged people. :-)
So I think our perspectives are similar. In whichever form, we don't like witnessing lives that feel phony. I also like your point about having to walk away from each other. More than the feigned perfection, I think that's what burdens me about social networking: the feeling that I have to be so involved in everyone's lives all the time. Being unplugged reminds me that it's okay to walk away, and more than that, actually a good thing. I still care about all of the people I interact with, and in fact I find I can care about them better when I'm not glued to my computer screen so much of the time.
In my experience, you, my dear, have been someone more transparent than most. I'm grateful for you.