The Morning Page

I had thought of something to write about earlier today, but now it's gone. That's the limitation of blogging as a kind of journal: You need to be near a computer in order to do it.

Back in the olden days, we had things we called pens and other things we called notebooks, and we used to use the pens to write in the notebooks. Now, I understand how quaint and all that sounds, but it's true. And it worked, too! Nope. You never had to reboot your notebook, although you would occasionally have to replace the pen or at least get a refill for it. It was a good system, though, and it worked just fine. Oh sure, you couldn't spend time researching Britney's latest haircut or play a game of something other than tic-tac-toe or hangman, but we muddled through somehow.

Still, despite my complaints about all these newfangled ways, I find myself as trapped in them as anyone else. I, personally, have two computers and a third at work. I carry a cell phone, own a website, and keep a goddamn blog. I'm stuck, stuck in a world not of my desiring, but of my undoing. It seems to me that all this technology that alleges to draw us closer really pushes us further apart and cages us in our separate high-tech boxes.

The problem with the virtual world is its virtualness, and it only offers virtual experiences. We get lost in personas and handles and screen names, and try in vain to connect with illusions and stand-ins for authentic selves. The virtual world is a lonely one, a desolate road, not a superhighway. O! for the return of the lowly pen!