Scraps of digital me

It is a like any other day. Strike that. It is a day EXACTLY like EVERY other day. I tell myself that today, this glorious day, will be different…but it never is. Today is the day that I must write, I tell myself…but I never do it. And so, here I am staring into the digitally pixelized interweb online version of my sad little life wondering what to write. There are thoughts, a great many of them in fact. There are mentally fleshed out stories that I could work on…but I won’t. You see I tell myself daily that this day I will set pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and I will write…but I won’t. There are far too many things to distractingly digital to put aside for even the most pathetic of writing…sucj as what you are reading now, I know. It doesn’t comfort me that I am writing it any more than it comforts you to be reading it. I apologize. You see there are always just a few more thousand points to score on Bejeweled Blitz. I know that if I only play that one last game I will get an truly righteous high score…but I don’t. Its not as if I am sitting here for hours playing a silly game! I am playing a game that lasts 60 seconds, and it is always just one more game, one more minute…until all the minutes in the day are used up in color matching. Digitized online life in a time suck. And a mind suck come to think of it. Instead of being away from the computer actually talking to people I spend hours reading little blurbs on Facebook or Twitter by random people, many of which I don’t actually know…wasting my time and my life 140 characters at a time(for twitter anyway. not sure what the post length limit is for facebook. note to self: waste time on facebook to find out the max length of a post.)

I have a part of my mind that is reserved just for these colossal wastes of time and I call him Jones. Yes, Jones. Why? Well, because if I don’t sit in front of a computer for as much time as humanly possible he comes to the forefront of my mind and insists that there is some vital piece of email or posting that I am missing. He sends the rest of my mind into withdrawal mode…thus his Name Is Jones. Even as I read a really fantastic book by his holiness Arthur C. Clarke this sad little mental man, Jones, will not go to sleep and leave me in peace for a spell. Perish the thought. But today, unlike every other day, I am beating him back into his corner with a rather large and painful looking stick. Okay so it is really just a mental tongue lashing. But still…

Scraps of poetry float through my head. Lyrics by Megadeth and Train accompany them. Haiku eludes me. Hyperbole, metaphor and simile do as well. “If I know I’m going crazy, I must not be insane.” a scrap of Megadeth. Sigh.

So I managed to break out of the loop of facebook/twitter/bejeweled etc. Now what? Tomorrow, or later, I may be able to actually write something of consequence.