I decided this morning that it was really important for me to update this space every day in June. And I’m going to try to hold myself to it, even though I’ve also felt the pull to ditch all forms of social media and revert back to letter writing as my only form of communication (from my hermit cabin, of course). 

I’ve shared my life in various ways online since the mid-90s, in bursts and fits and starts. It has changed so much since then, when we were all strangers on here and, against stereotype, there was a safety in that sort-of-anonymity. For good or bad, doing this has been a part of my life since high school. Abandoning it completely would feel like abandoning a part of my life and personality. 

And I think we should all be doing more. More writing, more selfies, more pets. When historians look back on this time (a discussion of media decay is for another day…), thanks to our grasp of these tools, it won’t be solely the domain of the rich and white and moving more toward a more balanced view. Because we took this time to share a bit of ourselves. 

And, it seems like when things are tough, the first feeling to retreat may not be the best. And that one may appreciate being able to look back and reflect and measure. 

So good morning, June. What’s new?

One thought on “Navigation

  1. Having lost my father relatively recently and also having never known my grandfather on my mother’s side (he died in the early 60’s) or my aunt who died when I was very young, I’ve become rather philosophical on the endurance of social media. I remarked recently to my cousin about how fantastic it would have been if our grandfather had been able to use twitter, and what it would be like to be able to know him in that way, to see him forge friendships, to react to the news of the day, to get inside his mind and see what really made him who he is, and be able to speculate at how that shaped who I am. It’s something I think about, hoping that a descendent of mine decades or even centuries from now will get to know me through my tweets. I can’t say it informs every post, or that I consider what my great-grandchildren will make of me “Sitting in a pimp chair at Victoria’s Secret, farting my ass off,” but it reinforces my conscious decision to be genuine in my tweets. Today is a day of my life, different from every other, never to be repeated. I’m not going to spend it pretending I am not who I am. This is our testament to eternity, day by day, fart in chair by fart in chair.

Comments are closed.