Screaming Silently

Poor decisions are getting easier to make and the right ones harder.

Take today, for instance.  My mom planned on going blueberry picking.  However, because Sam was going to pick up the futon, I stayed behind.  He had told me he was going to be here before 3pm.  It’s now 4:20, and he’s definitely not here.  That’s frustrating, but what I really should have done was just go.  I really had no overwhelming desire to pick blueberries-they’re one of the few fruits I don’t really like-but given the loose excuse that I should be waiting for Sam, I stayed home.  To do what?  Chat on the computer and blog, apparently.  It’s not worth it.  As lame or uninteresting as blueberry picking might be, it’s certainly a change of pace, and something that I think my mom might have appreciated me doing with her.

I’m not fighting for things like I might have in the past.  There was another incident where my family went to Ohio without me-because I chose to stay, for no other reason than I had practice Friday night.  I imagine there was something I was waiting for, but I need to learn to give those things up.  They’re just not that important or big.  Practice is no longer a release or entirely a responsibility.  I don’t give lessons on Fridays and other people are capable of opening up, believe it or not.

Unfortunately I’ve been spending 98% of my time in front of my computer.  It’s my way of keeping in touch with people and being creative, sure, but I can write on a notepad and I can sketch in a sketchbook.  I can watch movies on a TV and I can listen to music on my iPod.  (come to think of it, I can check email there, too)

It’s a problem.  A significant problem.

The decisions I feel I need to make are hard to do so.  As far as I can see, there’s no discernable desireable outcome or interesting process.  During the school year, though, I had to get up and go to school.  I had no choice.  Same with homework.  Occasionally I felt like I didn’t want to go to school or when I was there that I wanted to be home (or at least somewhere else), but whether I liked it or not, I learned things, interacted with people, worked on projects, moved about, ran errands, felt important, ate, laughed, and more than anything, lived.  Will just pointed out that 80% of the things I need to do are on the computer, but I counter with all the other areas we can do things.  As much as we’ve increased our availability for communications, we’ve decreased our presence with each other.  It’s not so much that I’m always in touch as that my computer is always in touch, my iPod is always in touch.  It’s strange.

And I feel like the decisions that need to be made, the choice to instead of turning on my computer in the morning, go for a walk or pick blueberries or go to Ohio are not being made because there’s no immediate gratification, but when I get on the computer, I always feel like I want to be somewhere else, I hate it, I abhor it.  Even my eyes hurt when I’m on the computer.  I’m not seeing everything I should.  I’ve been missing opportunities by being strapped to this device, all the while clinging to my feeble excuse that I like to be in contact.

What am I missing outside of this computer realm?  Why can’t I use it for the tool that it is, but not as a substitute for those whose avatars reside in bits of code?  It’s not right.  I’m not trying to purify the world, nor destroy all computers in a unabomber-esque rampage, but I am trying to revolutionize the way I view my computer.  I need a plan, a plan that is going to be very difficult to come up with.  Perhaps passwording my computer with a code I don’t give to myself, use the parental controls to limit my own time in this virtual world, something drastic, forcing me to find other uses of my time.  As much as I think my brother hs problems with his computer usage, I’m the one who’s living vicariously under the hypocritical banner of communication and innovation.  It’s trouble.

Tomorrow will be interesting.  I have a morning activity, but in the afternoon I will be responsible for entertaining myself, hopefully without the computer.

While working a job, it was much easier to control this: I simply was physically not present during the time I’m using this device.  I had things to do during the school year as well.  The computer was around, but I was working on my homework, or fencing or hanging out at school.  A compelling case for it being time for me to head off to college.

Perhaps it’s something I’m incapable of handling on my own.  Perhaps I need as big an intervention as the upcoming 14 hour-a-day possible job.  Perhaps I need college to roll around and I’ll get swept up into things again.  For now, though, being at home I try to escape through the computer.  It’s no longer working.  There are other adventures to be had, but I can’t see them, because my eyes are irrevocably glued to this computer screen, my mind, tied to lines upon lines of zeroes and ones.   Maybe I need to reach out with a different sense, or maybe I need to recognize that at my ripe young age, I don’t know everything, but that I’m not completely lost yet.

There’s an interesting quote from Batman Begins.  When young Bruce Wayne falls into a well and is frightened by bats, his father comes down to rescue him (I could never figure out how he survived a forty foot drop, but hey, he’s Batman) and says to him, “Why do we fall, Bruce?  So that we might learn to pick ourselves up.”  It’s a powerful statement and analogy to humanity.  Humans are going to fall, but right now I keep falling and have no interest in picking myself up.

It needs to change.  I call for that a lot.  It’s not going to be easy.  It takes willpower, something I’m incredibly low on right now.