Busy Signals

Over the past week I’ve cleaned my apartment, helped my cousin move furniture, gone on (yet another) blind date, conspired on one of the holiday’s most joyous spectacles, hosted a cocktail party in my apartment for “interesting people” (new terminology for my singles’ events), had beers in six bars, brunched with friends, crafted for SantaCon, visited a strip club, met up with over a dozen different people for an assortment of reasons and embarked upon my month of “No Pants.”

Is it any wonder I can’t think clearly? I’ve joked in the past that I always have so much on my mind that sometimes, when I’m sitting on the toilet, I have to look down to see whether I’ve peed or not. Social networking and cell phones are conspiring to rob me of my memory. Or at least my clarity. I suppose it could be a succession of “senior moments.” Though I shudder to think that! I’m leaning more toward blaming all the incessant information I’m being bombarded with. Oh, and the numerous games I have on my gizmo.

I can spend hours — HOURS! — playing Scrabble, Sudoku and Solitaire. Add more wasted time on exchanging texts, checking Facebook and answering my email. If I’m really bored I can  monitor my blog stats or see who’s been viewing me on the dating sites. And the puppy? As if it isn’t hard enough to get out of bed in the morning, Scribble is adorable when she wakes up! She snuggles up under my chin and I’d rather just lie there like that then, well, do anything. Though I wouldn’t call her technology…

My thoughts are so scattered. It’s difficult to focus. Every day I feel like I’ve accomplished nothing. Even when I have. I’ve been slowly, painstakingly proofreading my collected works of erotica for (eventual) publishing. And in my mind, I’m formulating the three other book projects I want to…start. I’ve been chronicling past events, participating in present events, plotting future events and generally trying to enjoy every moment. It’s exhausting.

Every day, the internet serves up so many options to drink, dance, socialize, speak or be spoken to that it boggles my mind. Sometimes I become so overwhelmed by all there is to do that I’m immobilized. Whether that’s due to indecision, not wanting to make a choice or just opting for the comfort of my couch, at least I’m learning to feel less guilt over choosing to stay home. My “FOMO” isn’t quite cured but it’s fading.

Probably the most unpleasant feeling I’ve been experiencing lately, in relation to all this information, is that despite the many avenues designed to connect us, I feel completely out of touch. I have voice mails and emails I haven’t responded to, people I’ve been planning to make plans with. It certainly doesn’t help that my cell reception is so lousy in my apartment that talking on the phone is virtually impossible.

Yes, I guess it must be said: I miss the days when I could make a local call and not worry about the minutes. Or “reception.” Remember busy signals? Or the days when you could sit with someone and not have your attention distracted every other second by dings and chimes? There was a day when people didn’t expect to hear back from you instantaneously. It was easier to make plans. And harder to cancel them. My mind may have been just as scrambled. But at least I was only thinking one thing at a time.

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