One of the salient commonalities of all writers is the fact that we are loners. We escape into the worlds in which we envision and our craniums become the instant abyss of our imaginations. Honestly, I have never been much of a loner. I’ve always been the flamboyant, vibrant spirit who talked incessantly. That’s me. Lately though, I find myself closed up in my room thinking, pondering, reflecting, and at times crying. Yes, crying. I cry a lot. Not sure why but you know it cleanses my soul. I think I cry because in a sense we are all queer, isolated beings with souls wandering here and there. Seeking to find the purpose of our existence, even if it is bane. The more I think about the world and the people in it, I find it necessary to displace obscurity and focus on the truth. Sometimes it seems that everyone is so busy that they just don’t have time to interact anymore. With instantaneous gratification at our immediate fingertips, who needs to participate in the lost art of letter writing when you can text, e-mail, Skype, call, Facebook or even seen a tweet via Twitter? There’s no need to meet your friends for lunch at Starbucks to talk about the latest bestselling novels over a Peppermint Latte when you can update your Facebook status and solicit debate via comments and “likes.” You can even post links to support your claims. I got so tired of Facebook a month ago that I deactivated it and vowed to only open it to download my pictures in a few months. I just got tired of knowing so much about people so now I don’t know.
So yeah, basically I think I cry out for the personable side of humanity that we are losing. Or are we really?!? Am I just old-school and would still prefer to chit chat with friends in person or have a good conversation face-to-face once in awhile. Should I just go with the flow? Or be as avante-garde as Lady GaGa in a meat dress (Yuck, by the way) at an awards show?
I am not sure how long I will be a recluse. I have my moments when I want to be extremely sociable and then those times when I am a Scrooge if someone tries to force me to interact with the real world. I’m a teacher though, so for five days a week, I have to wear the mask of “agent for social change and innovator of brighter tomorrows.” It’s not that I don’t want to do it but I’d rather be somewhere curled up in a ball writing my heart away and living in MiMi Land, a trait that I have passed on to my daughter who is just as imaginative if not more than I am.
I shall return to my life, my secret world of simplicities where I reign and things go my way. Me and my pen – alone, hence the blog title: Isolated Ink. Until next time, friends………..