Tonight I came home from work with a heavy, disconnected soul. Nothing in particular happened over the past 9 hours at the hospital but I find myself sitting on the kitchen floor in the dark eating pretzels and wishing I were different. I feel disenchanted with my profession, my response to people when they don't act like I hoped they would and my inability to "rise above".
I usually run right upstairs to the shower after stripping off my scrubs in the front hallway, but tonight I wandered into the kitchen- probably hoping there was a beer forgotten in the back of the fridge. No beer but I did find a container of pretzels with a white chocolate coating on one side and an M&M on the other. A weird confection and three elements I don't really care for, but somehow all smashed together it worked. Or maybe my sad heart just needed some homemade junk food to soothe. So I leaned against the counter in my gross scrubs and began browsing the intertubes.
It started out innocently enough- I checked my email, my Instagram page and two of my favorite blogs. Then, in the white chocolate no beer black hole of the kitchen, I fell.
Headlong into the mad craziness that is Facebook on a Tuesday night.
There are no words. No, there are lots of words. In two minutes I learned that Justin Beiber went to a sex club in Brazil (earning him the scornful nickname Boober, which I found delightful). I learned that several of my friends are receiving baskets of random natural snacks. I watched a video about a woman who has personal life experience with "gay therapy". I learned that the boys behind the Norwegian music video What Does the Fox Say are actually brothers. I saw a recipe for eggnog.
And I realized why social media is here to stay. Because it is the online Target without the buyers remorse. You can discover all sorts of things that you didn't know you wanted to know about.
It is 20 minutes later and I wish I hadn't eaten so many of these chocolate pretzels but I am no longer downtrodden. I feel full of whimsy and like a hot shower would feel really good. Am reminded why I no longer troll facebook because too many hours a day used to disappear the same way these last few minutes did for me. The rabbit hole of random information and who it comes from. Isn't it fascinating?? What people choose to post on facebook just might be the truest expression of their affections. Or at least, their affections of the moment.
So here is the question I will leave hanging in the dark air above my head, eerily lit by the glow of the computer screen.
Does your facebook feed reflect your interests or your awareness?
My brother and I discussed last week the difference between being truly INTERESTED in something and simply being AWARE that it exists. I find myself talking about certain interests of mine as if I have already invested something in them. Time, money, mental energy, sharing with others what I found. When I walk through the library and see a book cover that catches my eye or reminds me that I heard an interview with the author on NPR and was riveted for 7 minutes, I reflexively and probably very subconsciously label myself as "into" XYZ, whatever that may be.
Urban homesteading? Absolutely. The Jazz Age? Totally a fan. Organic gardening? I DO that! (I think) Metalworking? I almost had an apprenticeship with a girl I met on Etsy but then we just ended up talking about Thai food and never made anything. But I am so into metalworking. Loretta Lynn? She is playing at the Rivers Casino here is Pittsburgh soon...or maybe already has. I was so excited to hear she was coming but never looked at the schedule.
I talk about new things I get excited about without having the time to really learn about them or get into them or invest anything other then one or two really animated conversations about how great this thing is. How could you not agree with me?? So I sold you on it, then promptly became aware of something else but reserve the right to be annoyed you actually spent some time and now officially KNOW this thing.
The point is, I have been trying to differentiate between my true interests and the things that I am just happy to know are out there. Here is why I think it's important for me. I don't have enough alone time to read a magazine article, let alone a book. Thus my nightstand is a family joke, groaning under the weight of books that every time I look at wish I could just flop down on the bed and read cover to cover. I love listening to music. Grant faithfully makes a playlist for me every week on Spotify and it takes me almost all 7 days to get through the whole thing. I discovered succulents over the summer but one trip to the Phipps plant sale with two babes killed my desire to linger over rows of gorgeous spikey leaved plants. I have a box of lidded glass jars in the basement still waiting to be magically filled with the handmade bitters I was going to make last Christmas.
My life is a gorgeous parade of constant activity with not enough time to be interested in so many things.
Maybe I could recognize that I can appreciate something simply for it's organic existence and not give myself such a hard time that I didn't pursue every shiny thing that catches my eye. Maybe the guilt-inducing pile of books on my nightstand could be replaced by a happy little jade plant in a ceramic pot. That I will most certainly kill because my interest in succulents did not extend to learning how often to water them.
Am I rambling? I am starting to get really tired.
I think I made myself quite clear.