Finally back in the city where I can get back into the groove of things. My skin is a mess from the antibiotics I took, my hair hasn’t been properly conditioned and trimmed …. and I’m behind on my meditation, journaling and studying goals.
I have however, maintained to stay off of social media. Arbs and I have labeled it the devil of our time. Just like any other drug it triggers a dopamine high, and just like any other drug you find yourself sitting in the bathroom for 2 hours too many….scrolling. (Side note: at least other drugs make you clean your bathroom… LOL!)
There are, supposedly, people who can check it once for 30 minutes of the day. I don’t know any of those people. In fact, the circle of successful people I know — or even the ones on their way to success — simply don’t have it, or don’t go on it.
Then there are some people that have to have it for the purpose of their job — I’m glad I’m not one of those people.
For me, it takes away time that I could be using to mark goals off of my list.
When I could be journaling, instead, I’m searching for #tinyhousemovement, and getting ideas on how to decorate the tiny house I’m probably never going to get. Or the fact that I know what lip gloss Kylie Jenner wore when giving birth. It’s unnecessary. But it’s addicting.
I question if I will miss the opportunity of keeping in touch with people’s journeys, but if it was meant to be, we’d be doing a better job with staying in touch. Because that’s what real friends do, not followers.
It’s a strange world, and I’m starting to see the division in my generation. Those that live outside of social media and those that don’t. When I posted on my Instagram that I was no longer going to use it. I got a message saying that I was one of a kind.
I’m sure the person meant it in a positive way — but it’s sad, that there aren’t going to be too many people like me?
I don’t know, I beg to differ. I believe there are enough people (my age) outside of social media that keep in touch through phone calls and messages — and maybe even emails. And that once in a while, from their busy lives, they have lunch together. (Do I sound like a grandma?)
And if there isn’t, than I’m okay with that. I’ll be sad, but I’ll have some sort of satisfaction with my own truth. I’m okay being woketh in my own little world.
No longer will the world know what I’m eating for breakfast, what tea I drink, what country I’m traveling to and what I’m doing at 6:00 a.m. on a Monday. Unless of course, you read my blog.
That’s my que to go, ciao!