You think that the stream will satisfy you, that the browser will enlighten you, that this app will complete you, that those likes will fill you.
I wonder how that specific writing experience would be different. Because of the public spaces that are always open. The readers that are just a Publish button away. And the endless opportunities for release. All of this at a memoirist’s fingertips, even if she is not ready. Even if she wants to be alone.
Sifting through my digital detritus
some rare moments of light
of the weight
I wish to escape
Just because I follow you on X, Doesn’t mean I’ll follow you on Y or Z. If my internet is composed of many rooms, Why on earth would I want the same people in each one?
Small moments on Twitter are fascinating, because they reveal tiny bits about the people who share them, and in aggregate, reveal entire patterns of human behavior and emotion. – Doug Bowman, “A Love Letter to Twitter” I agree: I enjoy those tiny, unexpected moments on Twitter the most: when I learn of other people’s quirks and fears and imperfections. Their other masks. I’m reminded of past musings on my favorited tweets, and the idea of crafting and curating our own universes.
I publish something on a blog when I have something to say, when a point can be made. I’m quiet otherwise. But real life happens in between status updates, doesn’t it? The mundane and uneventful, the low points, the days I feel ugly and inadequate — I wait until it all passes, until something crystallizes from the buildup. So I’m here to comment on what feels like nothing in particular: the ebbs and flows, the in-between, the bits that add up to create the plot points of my life. That’s the thing about publishing on high notes — on announcing news or our successes across our social networks. The lapse between one Big Moment and the next can seem long and frustrating, and because I continue to conflate writing with publishing, I tell myself there’s nothing to be said until then.