Retreating into the Woods
I haven't posted in awhile. I have lots of things on my mind that seem as though they would make good blog posts--observations about human development, details of cupcake gorging, discussions on the nuances of trashy television shows--but by the end of the day the last thing I have energy for after mothering (and editing and writing wherever I can squeeze it in) and preparing for the biggest purchase of my life, as well as a move, is blogging.
So you'd think then that tweeting would be a happy alternative for a busy bee like me, and yet the idea of trying to condense my life down into tweetable lines is, in its own opposite way, equally mind numbing. I also can't keep up with all the tweets of people I allegedly follow. So I'm starting to feel, if not quite luddite, then just too damn tired or old to keep up. This feeling separates me from all the generations younger than me, and a good portion of my own Gen X. I admire those who can keep up, who can follow hundreds of streams of information and contribute their own and not GO INSANE in the meantime.
I'm suffering a backlash, I think, from all this easy instant access to information. I realize that just because one has access to information does not make the information valuable. I want to go sit by creeks and hang out in forests. I want to hide from the technology in the solitude of growing things, which do not have to be plugged in.