Oddly enough, I don’t browse the web. I don’t readdit. I don’t tumble. I don’t tweet. I Facespace, but not anything hardcore; certainly don’t get into long discussions or arguments. Most of the URLs I visit are contained in my browser’s New Tab page (the one with all the site thumbnails). I’m not terribly well-read.
Why? Because I have this guilty sense that I’m supposed to be doing something more important, like these browsing sessions are a distraction preventing me from knuckling down into a project, task, story, whatever. When I’m into those activity zones, I’m dead to the world; the sky could come crashing down, but I won’t notice until I look up and see 200 notifications and statuses and comments and…and…and.
I guess it’s a leftover from working so many jobs where I must not let the boss catch me fucking off. I’ve had too many of those, so when I’m supposed to be doing a thing, I flee from the obvious distractions and distract myself instead with the low-value, low-quality wastes of time where I am able to keep my eye open for the bossman.
Makes sense, but only when I’m at work. Play time? Makes no sense at all. Trying to follow along is just mentally draining and takes my time away, I suppose, but it’s my time to spend, right?
So here I am, typing up a quick note to distract myself from anything that would put me into a better place in life. It’s all those little people of Lilliput that kept Gulliver down.