Rain can make anyone slightly go stir crazy.
I’ve been sitting inside my room for a few hours now, looking at my laptop and thinking that there must be something else to do aside from logging in, surfing, blogging and logging out.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my online life. Sometimes, when I read horrible stories about people having too much digital fooprint, I turn a certain shade of green and think about the many footprints I’ve left over the world wide web, insisting my presence on the great digital realm.
But recently, I am starting to feel tired about the whole digital/online extravaganza: the constant Facebook updates, the round-the-clock blog updates (even when you are writing about nothing and making it sound like something), the Twitter, the constant online searches and the need to maintain and keep healthy a virtual freaking farm. Aside from blogging which I love, everything else is starting to get tiring and too much for me.
I try not to log as much on my Facebook profile because really, when you take stock of all that has been posted there (including repulsive pictures of gory scenes and medical abnormalities), what’s the point really? I am starting to get annoyed with receiving the countless games request because I hate Facebook games. Suffice to say, I think I am getting burned out by the whole social media debacle.
It made me ask myself what I used to do this before having a laptop and a stable internet connection. I used to write, not type. I used to compose poetry and essays and write insanely hilarious short stories that I’d be too mortified to publish. I used to draw, paint and even sketch. I used to read books, one after another — finishing one story after the next. I used to have a life that is measured beyond likes, stats and the number of my friends.
There are days when I am wondering if I should go off Facebook. The only thing that’s keeping me from erasing my account is the thought that it connects me to cousins living abroad, with the social network being our only means of connection. Maybe one of these days I’ll have the courage to start deleting friends, i.e. people whom I barely talk to or acknowledge my presence; people I barely know and just worked once or even people I met a random events and stagings, and just keep my Facebook account limited to dear family and true friends (the kind you meet once in a while to have coffee and shoot the breeze with.
Call me weird or crazy, sentimental even — but I miss hearing stories coming from my friends’ voices. I miss talking to people, and not just “poking” them. I miss the good old times when we laugh our hearts out for real, and not just through the typing of the silly “LOL”, followed by “LMAO”. I miss getting bored while an excited friend flips through a 50 page photo album, eager to show me photos of a recent vacation. I miss the human interaction — the craziness of it, the rawness of seeing people face to face and not wall to wall. I miss being friends with someone, for real. I miss it when we write letters and send them, waiting for the post to do its job.
Definitely, it’s a wonderful, wild, wired world — but somehow, call it nostalgic, boring, traditional even. Nothing changes the realness an warmth of human interaction.