I feel stranded in this internet wasteland. There used to be places where I could go to get away. Sail on a sea of quiet conversation on a boat with fellow usernames. The life. But now, everything penetrates everything else. It feels like a tentacular apocalypse. And I can’t hear anything because everyone is always screaming.
People just don’t know when to stop. Taking pictures of their lunch, telling Twitter where they are at every exact moment. Their feed is a factory. Look at me! I don’t care if you stalk me, really; in fact, you probably should!
When I met Chuck Wendig, he wouldn’t stop tweeting. This annoyed me. Do people really have to be connected at all times? What is so important that it can’t wait until later? When I took my trip to Houston, I was more than happy to detach from all devices and just observe everything around me. When I came home, my mom was upset that I didn’t take any pictures. I wanted to observe, I said. I wanted to experience for the moment. No filters, no devices, no looking back on it as it’s already happening. The present as present, the present as not already past.
I wish people were more selective. Stop thinking in terms of audience. Thoughts can exist by themselves and they can be happy. They can have intimate gatherings with just a few people and it can be worthwhile. They can even be alone and quiet sometimes. Slap yourself and recognize what’s truly important with your words. You’re a writer. It shouldn’t be hard.
Let’s just take a moment to mourn the loss of thinking for thinking’s sake. Just a quiet moment of reflection. Ignore the tentacles coming in through the windows.
Hold on, I should really tweet about this first though…