Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The Internet Diet, Week One

There is no internet at my house.  Being on an internet diet is similar to being on a diet diet.  The mornings are easiest because you're distracted by the newness of the day-- there's coffee, bed making, a bit of reading, a bit of stretching...  I don't crave the internet similar to the way I don't particularly crave hot wings with my morning cup of jo.

Mid day, I'm still okay.  I get to catch up with the internet at a cafe.  Facebook, email, Pinterest, Thought Catalog, this blog…and a warm raisin scone.  All cravings satisfied. 

It's at night when things become a little difficult.  A bat circles the house, collected bugs.  I keep catching it in the corner of my eye, a little black smudge, flying clumsily past the window. The heat clinks in the house, a squirrel prepares its nest somewhere in the roof of the house.  I wander the upstairs, straightening up a little to distract myself.  I fluff my pillows in preparation for bed.  (I've never done this before my internet diet), I pad around in my slippers and notice that I can hear myself breathing.

This is when the craving returns.  Powerful, potent, completely real.  I crave the internet, just like I crave a big bowl of mac&cheese, smothered with sriracha.  I can't even steal my neighbors internet;  one is called "EAT ME" and the other is called "DRINK ME" and they're both locked.  Once in awhile, I'll open up my laptop and just stare at the little lock symbol and wonder what the passwords could be.  It's got to be something like dickhead but I haven't figured it out yet…..

Eventually, the craving subsides.

Recently, I've noticed something strange has happened.  I've begun to feel differently about the internet.  I'm starting to resent it a little.  I became addicted to it, completely reliant on it, without me even really knowing it.  Is it fair for me to blame it, and the generation I'm in?  I feel like we've all been passengers, riding along.  To fight against it would be like trying to run fast in water.  And yet, without it, I feel like I've stepped off of a speeding train, and am now I'm drifting on my back along a current, relaxed like the woman in that painting.

(However, this is hilarious)

image via It's About Time

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