It started yesterday when I drove 3 towns over to one of the last remaining Barnes and Noble stores with every intention of finally, finally, breaking down and getting an e-reader.
The e-readers are the first display you see when you walk in the door. Not books. No, not books in a bookstore, but 2 giant display tables of Nooks and Nook holders and flashing, changing screens and employees with big smiles showing customers how they work. I touched one screen and it flashed. One flash. That was all it took for me to walk right past, back to the books I could pick up and page through and smell and think about, right here in the real world. Instead of an e-reader, I left B&N with these:
And not that it’s one bit related, but the first thing I did when I got home was to deactivate my Facebook account. There must be a full Facebook moon this week, as it’s been written about brilliantly both here and here, and now I’m on that uncovered wagon, too. Facebook, I’ve realized, has become one of those things I worry about.
** I post a photo of the new dog only to hear that tsk-tsk from family members, “I hope you know what you’re getting into.” Which, of course, taps into my very real fear that I don’t know what I’m getting into, but I’m already in it.
** Before I can make a real live rational decision, I send my estranged brother a happy birthday message. It’s his birthday, after all, and the reminder, as if I need one, is right there on the tool bar. Hours later he responds with a kind of non-response, but his wife posts a photo of him as a baby, and guess who’s in the photo with him? Do I feel better? Of course not.
** I feel compelled to “like” photos and comments that I would never bother to respond to, or probably even know about, in real life. I feel guilty when I don’t “like,” I feel ridiculous and phony when I do.
** [note to self: use of the phrase “in real life” is troubling]
** I receive comments, and thus feel the need to respond, from people whom I’ve mistakenly “friended” but have never been friends. Some are barely even acquaintances. And yet there’s never enough time to catch up with the people really care about.
So, the e-reader: not for me, not yet, not today anyway.
And Facebook: it’s only been 24 hours but I don’t miss you one bit. I feel relieved.
Instead, and maybe not so ironically, I’m off to read a real paper book about madness.
If only I could release my addiction to WORDS WITH FRIENDS ….
What kind of screen time would you love to give up?