I missed another day on the blog. You might think I would therefore have an entire extra day of adventures to impart, but sadly not. Nothing I want to share anyway. Does this mean there is stuff going on? Perhaps. Does this mean I’m closing the door on it and pretending that everything is fine? Definitely.
Being somewhat truthful, I’ve just been really busy – and of course I can’t really write anything about it, because it’s work, and there are lots of reasons not to write anything about work – quite apart from causing you a sudden attack of narcolepsy.
I filter more than most. I didn’t used to. I used to empty my head into the keyboard, and record the mundane – all of the mundane. I would argue that there was value in the everyday stories of ordinary folk, and perhaps I still think that – but given the extraordinary stories posted by so many these days, it causes me to pause for thought. Does my story really have any value?
Of course I won’t stop writing. I know with some degree of confidence that I won’t stop, because I’ve tried to stop in the past – spectacularly unsuccessfully.
(a few moments pass while I contemplate finishing the post here, but then I spy my mobile phone on the corner of the desk, and realise I might have something to write about after all)
I’m still carrying the little Nokia 3310 around with me. If nothing else, it has illustrated just how little interaction I have with anybody any more. I receive perhaps one text message every few days, and perhaps one phone call a week – usually from my children. I don’t really miss having a smartphone at all, and wonder if carrying one was a kind of crutch – something to fiddle with during the quiet moments. I’m not sure if I’ve become more aware of the world around me as a result of ditching the smartphone, but I’m certainly less distracted. Actually – let’s revise that – I’m distracted by different things.
I’m spending far more time writing emails than I have in the last few years. Rather than send instant messages to friends, I’m writing emails comprised of more than a pithy sentence or two – it feels good. I’ve hardly set foot in Instagram, or Tumblr for the last six weeks, and the lack of interest in my disappearance has underlined just how insular those communities are (or just how forgettable I am). I’m not criticising – I’m just stating facts – I have not missed those communities, and they have not missed me.
Maybe NOW is the time to stop writing this post, because I’m rambling on about a load of inconsequential rubbish, as per usual. If you managed to get this far, you probably deserve a medal. I think I’ve written words to this effect in the past.