I have beautiful solitude every night,
And every night, I ruin it with back-burner curiosity / a desire to observe other humans (via the only sure-fire method: corporate social media).
Sometimes I go through phases of No Phone In The Bedroom. I read books, I sleep better, I feel like a normal, cozy mammal. It’s in alignment with my desires and identity, and I never regret it. And yet without fail, I fall off the wagon. Here I am at 1:19am typing this, in order to prevent myself from scrolling message boards or images of people I know and don’t know. Legitimate and illegitimate time-wasters, and bits of inspiration. My fragile human mind can’t maintain basic sanity with (supposed) “access” to all of humanity, past and present and theoretical.
I wonder how long this will go on. Will this be part of my life until I’m old? Will I be scrolling on my death bed? For someone in isolation or in ill health, virtual interconnectedness is a huge gift. But until I’m unable to participate in life physically, in person, I’m going to feel dissonance from constant access to everything via proxy. So for now, maybe less is more.
I must buy a new alarm clock, so I can charge my phone in the hall. (I recently sawed a hole in the back of a secretary desk to run a small power strip inside it, for charging/stowing tech at night; but then my bedroom alarm clock started buzzing constantly, so I unplugged it and went back to using my phone’s alarm; then I sniffed out a sunrise alarm clock on a Free Stuff neighborhood social media group, but it lacked a power cord, and only had one leg (of two), so I tossed it aside and forgot about it sometime before Christmas). Side note: Due to a fear of looking like a thief every time I “porch pickup” something, I tripped on the sidewalk trying to read my name on the plastic bag containing the powerless alarm clock (I had already read it, but needed to read it again for some reason to be certain I was not a thief) and I fell, busted both knees, and scraped up both my palms. So, you know, it’s been one of those things.
Maybe I could have just bought a new alarm clock back when mine started buzzing. Was that last month? Two, three months ago?
I feel good for writing this instead of scrolling. Really what I consistently miss is the ability to write a sad lyric with no context in my AIM profile. That was the closest thing to genuine artistic expression from my young self that I felt. It had almost nothing to do with who ended up reading it.
tiny bouquet 