Tonight I found myself sitting in front of the laptop, mindlessly web surfing, either too tired or too listless to work on something productive. It was then that I thought to myself, "Hey, maybe I should blog." So here I am.
It's hard to say exactly what has led me to abandon my online writing. Unfortunately, I can't claim it's because any private writing has taken its place. I suppose it's nothing complicated, just the fact that I haven't set aside any time for it and that I've struggled with a lack of direction in these posts. On the surface, a blog sounds simple. After all, it follows that most basic of writing aphorisms, "write what you know". And what could you possibly know better than... yourself?
It's evident the memoir has taken on a significant role in our web-savvy, pop-culture obsessed, fifteen-minutes-of-fame culture. Does putting it in writing prove that it happened? Does it lend a significance to everyday events that we find otherwise lacking? Is talking up our latest foray the latest way of keeping up with the Joneses? Or maybe, for most of us, it's just a way to keep friends loosely informed and make use of the internet as a creative outlet.
It's really creativity I crave. But all too often I find my mind devoid of any ideas for creative pursuits, and I wonder if the internet takes some of that blame. Or perhaps I'm just getting older and more set in my ways. One thing I do know: since my Lenten break with visual/electronic media, I've been loathe to watch any TV shows or movies more than once or twice a week, and surfing the web has become primarily a tool for procrastination when I lack the motivation for real action (or am simply trying to avoid what I know needs to be done). Writing this is no exception to this rule.
So perhaps I'll write again soon, with fresh ideas percolating. Or perhaps I'll move on to other things, but then, who knows? Maybe moving on to other things would finally give me something to blog about.
Showing posts with label internet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label internet. Show all posts
Monday, September 20, 2010
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Strawberry Fields Forever
Rutabagastories ground to an unexpected halt last week as our internet connection faltered. After much testing, Michael, with the help of his techie friend Howard, determined that the modem is at fault. Qwest has agreed to send us a new one, but for the moment I'm utilizing my housemate's computer.
It's funny how dependent we are on the internet these days. Had I not had access while at work, what would I have done? Emails, not phone calls, make up the majority of my long distance communication with friends, and nearly all of my current information on the outside world comes to me via the world wide web (or office gossip; there are some things that never change).
On Monday Michael and I pursued the more old-fashioned activity of going out to a movie. Entering the tiny Grand Illusion Cinema on the Ave, paying with check instead of credit, and sitting down to watch Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries in the well-worn theater seats made me feel more than a little nostalgic. With the whir of the film reel heard faintly behind us, and specks of dust making split second appearances on the screen as the story unfolded, this seemed the perfect way to view what is inherently a nostaglic movie. Seeing Professor Borg reminisce over mostly painful memories, yet somehow be able to move beyond the hurts of the past, including the many he himself created, both saddened and uplifted me.
After the showing, Michael and I went to Pochi for a late night bubble tea. Slurping tapioca up through a straw, listening to the Blue Scholars on the cafe stereo system sing about The Ave, I remembered the two of us sitting in this very place years before, following another movie at the Grand Illusion. I used to feel that my life revolved around the U District - I worked there, hung out there, went shopping, and went to church all within a few blocks of University Way, although our apartment was a couple of miles to the east. Years ago, when I first heard the Blue Scholars, I could relate - the Ave was my street, too.
These are mostly good memories, though, and I hope when, in my old age, I look back on my life I will be able to face fewer regrets than Professor Borg. With this new-fangled internet, I'll even have a digital record here to remind me. Unless, of course, the modem breaks down again. Maybe then my memories will return as surreal dreams, but for now I just want a reliable way to get back online.
It's funny how dependent we are on the internet these days. Had I not had access while at work, what would I have done? Emails, not phone calls, make up the majority of my long distance communication with friends, and nearly all of my current information on the outside world comes to me via the world wide web (or office gossip; there are some things that never change).
On Monday Michael and I pursued the more old-fashioned activity of going out to a movie. Entering the tiny Grand Illusion Cinema on the Ave, paying with check instead of credit, and sitting down to watch Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries in the well-worn theater seats made me feel more than a little nostalgic. With the whir of the film reel heard faintly behind us, and specks of dust making split second appearances on the screen as the story unfolded, this seemed the perfect way to view what is inherently a nostaglic movie. Seeing Professor Borg reminisce over mostly painful memories, yet somehow be able to move beyond the hurts of the past, including the many he himself created, both saddened and uplifted me.
After the showing, Michael and I went to Pochi for a late night bubble tea. Slurping tapioca up through a straw, listening to the Blue Scholars on the cafe stereo system sing about The Ave, I remembered the two of us sitting in this very place years before, following another movie at the Grand Illusion. I used to feel that my life revolved around the U District - I worked there, hung out there, went shopping, and went to church all within a few blocks of University Way, although our apartment was a couple of miles to the east. Years ago, when I first heard the Blue Scholars, I could relate - the Ave was my street, too.
These are mostly good memories, though, and I hope when, in my old age, I look back on my life I will be able to face fewer regrets than Professor Borg. With this new-fangled internet, I'll even have a digital record here to remind me. Unless, of course, the modem breaks down again. Maybe then my memories will return as surreal dreams, but for now I just want a reliable way to get back online.
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