So long, for now

I think I have Internet Fatigue Syndrome. Does such a thing exist? I’ve developed complete dependence on the World Wide Web — in recent days I’ve looked up everything from car seats to used cars, found a darn good knockoff recipe of the Olive Garden’s Pasta i Fagioli, bought some Christmas presents, did research for a story, emailed, Facebooked, read blogs, shared photos, ordered Christmas cards, and learned all there is to know about Jaime Grubbs. Yet despite my utter dependence on this virtual beast, I feel like it’s sucking the life right out of me.

I use the Web All.The.Time. I Google everything. Yet I can’t seem to write a coherent sentence lately, and I think it’s because I don’t read anything that’s much longer than 140 characters. I know what I need to do to resolve this, I need to close the laptop and open a book. But in a daily grind where it’s a luxury to find 10 minutes to take a shower without one of the boys calling for me or needing something, it’s easy to justify taking 30 seconds to check my email instead of spending 30 minutes on the couch with this week’s “Time.” It’s quicker to Google a recipe for dinner than it is to sift through a dozen cookbooks that are gathering dust in my kitchen. It’s simpler, faster, easier ... but does that mean it’s better?

It seems the Internet has made me smarter and dumber all at once. Thanks to the Web, I have useless facts, celebrity gossip and NFL stats at my fingertips. I know that a high school pal has just completed a triathlon, and a former co-worker’s kid is sick again. But I also feel out of touch with the very best friends whose Facebook status updates I read religiously. I can’t remember the last time I picked up the phone and had a real, live conversation with one of them. And that’s just sad. It's weird to miss my friends, to feel terribly out of touch with them even though I know what their Starbucks order was this morning, what they did last weekend and what they're watching on TV right now.

I’ve also become unable to write even the simplest update on this blog. My Central Penn Parent blog is in desperate need of some resuscitation. I’ve barely looked at my Twitter feed in the last several weeks, and haven’t posted anything on there since late October. I’ve grown weary of social media, even as I religiously check Facebook for new status updates and uploaded pictures.

I don’t know where I’m going with this except to say that I’ve been kicking around the idea of scrapping this blog altogether. It began as a way to keep far-away family abreast of what we were up to way down South. It has since morphed into something else entirely - part “mom blog,” part family scrapbook, with an occasional random rant thrown in for good measure. I used to think I needed this as an outlet for my writer self. But what I’m thinking lately is that my writer self needs to live outside of my laptop, not live vicariously through 214 Facebook “friends’” lives. (Seriously, if one more of my “friends” starts training for a marathon, I’m going to start working out. I swear.) My writer self needs to turn real pages, not virtual ones. And submit real essays to real publications, not post them, raw and unedited and rambling, into the blogosphere for nobody in particular to read (and nobody to pay me for).

Yet part of me loves this blog. I love some of the entries I’ve written, and I especially love to be able to look back on my kids’ first years of life. When inspiration hits, this space gives me the arena to be heard, understood and appreciated in a way writers thrive on. So I can’t decide what to do.

For now, I’m just sayin’ I’m going on hiatus.

Merry Christmas!