Dreaming of Future Days....

Nothing to say.

Nothing to do.

Nothing to Tweet.

Nothing but ewes.

The green, green, green of Scotland.

Social Media Summer Sabbatical

In four days I will be removing my Twitter and Facebook apps from my phone (my stomach just lurched typing that).  Yes, for the next three months I am walking away from the bite-sized dopamine rush of every retweet, like, mention and share that reminds me that I am god's gift to humanity.  

Am I fucking insane?  I don't know.  I can't tell anymore what is making me insane.  Is it the political rage?  Is it the endless echo chamber of everyone's thoughts about, well, everything?  Or maybe it's looking at my dad's name and likeness a dozen times a day?  Yeah, I think it's that last one - love you dad, but enough is enough.

For the last eight years I bought into it all.  I loved the instant love, camaraderie, shared revolutions, funny cat videos and especially the opportunity to learn to express my myself unfiltered and in front of strangers.  I found an enormous safety net of compassion and community after my father's death that kept my head above the waters of debilitating grief that I will be forever grateful for.  I even won the internet one night when I won a Hashtag War on @Midnight.  Without Twitter, I don't think I would have had a real opportunity to hone my comedic skills and really learn to craft a concise joke.  But most importantly, I became real-life friends with incredible people all over the world when after meeting on social media, we met in person.  

Social media has been bery, bery good to me.  

But for the last three or four years, I have noticed the cracks around all the joy and love.  More than a few times a year, I've had to take time away from it - a week here, ten days there - to unwire what I knew was rewiring my brain and personality.  Being in my 50s, I was not born with a phone in my hand.  I was born into a world where the family carved out time to gather around the TV together to watch their favorite shows, where my youthful afternoons were spent wandering with friends in search of trouble and fun, and where, unless you asked, I'd never knew what you had for lunch that day.  

I am sorry to inform you that I will not be notified that you just liked the picture of the sunset I posted last year, nor that you've invited me to your house concert in Naples, Florida this Sunday.  Sadly, I will not see the great time you had at your sisters wedding this July, nor be able to send you a (((hug))) when your cat dies (no, I don't know that your cat is dying. It could be your dog, or mother or car).  And I will miss out on wishing you "Happy Day of Your Birth," (my signature move on FB), the fact that you hung out with that A-List celebrity that I will envy you for, and that you've gotten the job of your dreams which I will be truly happy for you.  But in order for any of those things to happen, you will have to call, text, email, snail mail or drive to my house for me to find out.  I look forward to hearing from you.

Or do I?  

I believe that we've heard just about all we need to from each other for the next thousand fucking years.  Really.  This false intimacy has to go.  But more on that later.  

I may be gone from social media, but I will not be gone from my blogging and podcasting.  If you want to keep up with MY life this summer, join me there.  Where?  www.kellycarlin.com

And if you've got real ovaries, join me on my sabbatical.  Come on, you know you want it.