Duck-billed platypus

4:52. I got distracted and started scrolling through my phone, a device which finally received its protective cover today so I can accidentally yet safely drop it whenever I please. Sometimes it astonishes me how dependent we’ve become to our electronic devices. I can clearly remember a time when I had neither a phone nor a computer and still kept myself happy and busy. I can remember a time I never sent a text to my parents but a contraption that does exactly that did not exist in our universe. I am not that old but do belong to a family that didn’t necessarily feel a need for modern devices (spoiler alert: they still don’t so I got them some myself). My good old days were when I made and played with paper dolls, coloured in books, wrote my little diary with glitter pens. Then came the age of “grown up” books aka R.L. Stines. I read ravenously in the true sense of the word. When facebook surfaced, my friends moved there and found better things to do while I was still stuck living in the 90s. I didn’t get it. I was old-fashioned, even at 13. Through everything that came and went, blogging stuck. So here I am. But it’s not very modern anymore, is it?

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I usually don’t let my posts sit in the drafts for days before I hit publish. They start feeling stale that way. but it’s been five days and I couldn’t nap so I got up to type while my husband practices the tabla, which he has gotten very good at. It’s going to be a winter of decisions for me — big or small, time will tell. But I think that every few months, one must spice their life up and do something new and different. What good is existing if we’re no good at anything? Not even perspective? But that’s just me, you don’t have to listen to me. My life’s been tough and I’ve been tougher still and the sedentary life is starting to pale in comparison to what I’m used to. It’s like knowing the difficult level of a video game off the back of your hand but being forced to play at beginner level.

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There’s another paragraph lost somewhere because I just backspaced it because I’m not in the headspace to write right now. I’m trying to multitask and listen to some Arcade Fire and that doesn’t work very well for me because I need silence. Today, I am thinking again about productivity in a capitalist world — how we are inclined, nay, forced, to sell and sell ourselves. To make it seem like our little life has amounted to something big. And while doing so, we lose track and meaning of what truly matters. I feel like if your worldview is skewed towards capitalistic pursuits and perceptions, there’s little anyone can do for you. What could I, this tiny being with nothing of tangible value, have to show for a counter case? Words lose meaning and meaning is not followed by actions.

I’m so tired of explaining myself, I can barely sit still. Something has to give.