Some people believe social media has made us less social.  I believe it’s made us more distracted (I know I would get more writing done without it, even though promoting ourselves and our work on social media is expected).  I have since made for myself a “social media schedule” to keep myself from wiling away hours I could be writing, doing a craft with my daughter, trying a new recipe, etc.  I’m not sure what my eventual goal is, but at least no more than an hour a day total.  I’m not much of a TV watcher (it stays off most of the day when my husband is gone, and it is annoying, not to mention distracting, as background noise), but if no more than two hours of screen time is recommended for children, why not for adults?

I’ve been writing several poems dealing with technology lately, because even though I love the technology that “gives me a voice” for my writing (I don’t have to wait for a publisher to share my work with the world), I also see it as being a time thief.

Not every day will be a nice one–go out and enjoy the ones that are.  The more you do this, the more you will have something worth writing about.

Windows

From the windows of my soul,
I watch the world go by—
my eyelids like shutters
that close during a storm,
blocking out all the unpleasantness.

I check out at the supermarket,
the cashier sneaking glances at her cell
as if it’s a secret lover,
while the bagboy tries to decipher the clock—
the kind with hands that move
rather than numbers that blink.

I hand the check to the cashier
who squints at my neat script
as if it’s scrawl on a prescription,
and I leave the store,
having not uttered a word.

It was at Granddad’s funeral
that an old acquaintance showed up,
and stood right by me.
His name was engraved on my brain,
embedded in the wrinkles of my cerebrum—
a labyrinth of memories and knowledge.

When they came looking for me.
it was as if I was invisible,
as if I was less than glass.
It was as if I had never even been there.
Forty-three people,
mourning my friend,
and I, in black against the snow,
was like a lump of coal.

Though I tread with a slow gait,
through this valley of flickering screens,
it is like I am on fast forward,
for I am but a blur who disappears.
My presence is felt the same
as my absence.

I create my first account to stay relevant.
I search for a friend,
I articulate a thought,
the keys tapping like shoes on the sidewalks
of the information superhighway.
I am heard by someone far away,
but I know if I was there,
I would disappear again
because whatever is going on elsewhere,
is always more exciting than what is going on here,
no matter where here is.

I saw you the other day.
I had friended you,
and you looked right through me.
It was the first time we had met,
and when I unfriended you,
it was as if it had all never happened.