the cassingle revival
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20 years old, a blog held from the age of 16, Australia, girl, young adult problems and resolutions, an honest and dry look at myself learning to be a better, bigger, happier person, artist, photographer.
Trying to find my place in the world, a career, a family, to move on from the hectic world of the Bartender.
Archive
Thursday, 28 April 2011, 11:34 pm
that noise Pidgin makes when you get a new message
I probably spend entirely too much time on the Internet.
Actually, I'm pretty unimpressed with the Internet being my only true addiction.
I tried smoking, and I didn't enjoy it.
I tried binge drinking, and I really didn't enjoy it.
I smoked a joint once, and I really didnt enjoy it.
I did drugs, and I really didn't enjoy it.
I tried T.V, and I really don't enjoy it.
No, I like being plugged into a world-wide conciousness.
Nice choice!
Honestly, I spend six to nine hours a day.
To be HONEST the majority is study! That's a lie. The majority is procrastination.
But I'm trying and sometimes it doesn't seem so bad to be locked into this world, as opposed to moving around out there in the skin cancer and criminals with high peformance vehicles. I can find anything here. Porn, an article on how to knit a teddy bear, why-is-there-a-lump-on-my-ankle, a fan page for Madonna's armpits, floral forums, and recipes I can ruin.
Now this didn't particularly concern me. The internet is my saftey blanket. All these safe little people, in their safe little world, hiding behind their safe little monitors, talking to me in a safe little way. I actually met my recently-ex boyfriend through the Internet. I'll bitch/cry/complain/love over him a lot here to give my poor friends (the R.L ones!) a break. But, I have noticed some drawbacks. My long-distance eyesight apparently is failing -- not cool, it's making me a bit of a menace on the roads. I can still write a lover letter, but can miss a major turn-off on a freeway. Sometimes I forget to eat. Sometimes I sit for 6 hours waiting for a message from my ex boyfriend to go "beep", because somehow I think if he thinks I'm waiting for him, he'll still love me forever and ever.
In summary, the Internet is pretty anything you want it to be. Even Madonna's armpits.