I got home from work at a reasonable hour, unpacked my empty lunch containers and fed the cats. I switched on the TV, it was Grey’s I think, and waited for my brain to shut off. And waited. And waited. And watched an episode of Top Gear. And waited. And said hello to the Hub as he got home from the gym, and drank some water because maybe I was dehydrated. And got really irritable with the Hub. And waited. The buzzing just got louder and louder until I could barely speak or see.
Maybe it’s the TV I thought, so went to lie down on my bed and look at the giant tree outside our window. I admired the vantage point from our room. Because the plot isn’t level we look over our pool and the nest of huge palms at some height. I watched a red and navy lourie squawk between hops around that truly ugly tree where the Great Dane’s always peer over the wall. And the buzzing continued. I badly needed to unplug.
Unplugged has become more than a cool word for guys with acoustic guitars playing in dinge bars (check out Bastille at the Pompeii Exhibition – if you are not blown away…well then there’s something wrong with you and you should have that seen to). Unplugged now means, according to our friends at Google, (of an electrical device) disconnected.
Don’t you sometimes FEEL like an electric device? All jittery and tingly with nervous energy; plugged into the socket of the world on an endless white plastic adapter. I felt like that yesterday, after spending 5 hours in an over-cooled board room whizzing numbers and strategies around my brain with one 10 minute break. I couldn’t switch it off. I’ve read plenty of advice about unplugging because I know people like me who spend hours in front of a laptop or on my phone are most at risk of the associated burn out. I’ve read that you should leave your phone off at night, and not look at it first thing and last thing. I’ve read that walking around the garden, being surrounded by the green quiet of nature should help. I’ve read that you should get up from your desk every 15 minutes and focus your eyes on the far wall. None of it works. I work too hard. I try too hard. I need to feel connected to feel alive these days. I often feel like a frightened rabbit in the headlights of a small truck, barreling towards me but with no power to move. I have to see that next Instagram photo, what if Miss X has had her baby? I'd better check Facebook IMMEDIATELY. What if, God forbid, I miss out? We are all so connected that we live in a state of permanent FOMO. There is so much out there, happening all the time, we are bound to miss out. Twitter and buzzfeed fads last a few hours. And in that time millions of humans globally have caught on. And if you miss it, it's down right embarrasing to tweet and ask uhhh...I missed that? No wonder we feel like rabbits in front of trucks. It's all glittery and sparkly and deliciously connected. And we don't have to put ourselves out there, make verbal conversation or see the look on someone's face when we rant about them. Anonymously of course. We all know the proverbial "I hate it when PEOPLE...". I think a smartphone detox is in order. Either that or I need to become a botanist.
No comments:
Post a Comment