Life After Blogs
Your life without a computer: what does it look like?
Forgive me Father for I have sinned, it has been 10 weeks since my last blog post.
I really don’t feel too guilty. My blog is my greatest social media foray; limited and only somewhat consistent, but still a baptism into the computer culture. For awhile I’ve been thinking about keeping my words to myself. If not completely, (hence this post!) at least curtail my public spewing. So life without or a reduced computer usage is already my goal.
If I give in to abstinence, I would miss the machine. I can’t just run to it and ask who is dead or alive. Tell me more about a city or country I’m reading or thinking about. Tell me more about an author. Tell me if the library has a certain book. Just like entering a room to turn on a light switch when the power is out, and encountering darkness, I would feel startled at the deprivation.
My friend, my adversary. I would feel abandoned without his useful and senseless information. Even without an electrical outlet in the house, I guess I can’t keep my secretive and introverted self contained within my small room. There are no secrets and too many bread crumbs. There, you have more of me.
Sometimes, we all need a break from these little glowing boxes. How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?
Looking for info
On the Time Wasting machines
Answers come biased
I’ll never forget the most vivid dream I ever had.
About a year ago, my computer screen was turning on at certain times during the day and night on its own. A few times, I woke up to an eerie machine light streaming down the hallway. I became convinced that someone was trying to look in or listen in on us. I don’t know why, since we are the most boring kind of people, but paranoia is not reasonable.
So back to my dream: In the middle of the night the computer screen flicked on. I woke up (in my dream) and started swearing at this disturbance. The light became more intense and the machine started to make noises as if to match my own yelling.
Then I heard fast and heavy footsteps come down the hallway to our bedroom. Because the computer screen lit the house quite well, I saw the owner of those loud footsteps enter the bedroom.
It was a short man, no taller than five foot five. He wore a robe and hood reminiscent of the times of Jesus. He came to the foot of our bed and aggressively waved a scythe over us. In the dream, I woke up but could neither scream nor utter one word even though I tried.
I guess this could have been death what with the robe and scythe and all. If it was, I didn’t feel the fear death should have inspired.
The scythe was ambiguous. The weapon appeared to be highly threatening and benevolent all at once. I came to feel that the scythe waving reminded me of a form of blessing. Instead of a priest waving his hand over me with a blessing, I got blessed with a sharp and potentially deadly instrument.
Go figure. I guess the computer holds just as much ambiguity.