Anyone who's meandered through my meanderings must have gleaned that the only real thread is that the author is at odds with the world. Whether it's a matter of being an anachronism or simply never having the basic skills and sense to navigate society in all its minefield glory, I am a metaphorical square peg. But this is not all bad. Yes, I am more challenged than most when presented with new tech or some shift in contemporary jargon, but this has been the conundrum for anyone who's ever lived to a certain age. As someone who never imagined making it to 30, the ways life surprises me are many. At the same time, I think I provide an interesting reference point for those who are actually in the flow of things. I'm sort of a window into another time, another way of thinking and of doing things. Also my inability to assimilate smoothly or quickly is pretty amusing from the outside. I'm cool with that.
But I'm reasonably intelligent and am surrounded by many who are far more adept at making their way in the 21st century. Why am I not joining their ranks?
Because I don't want to.
The world is moving faster than it ever has. Technology is obsolete in weeks or sometimes months where it was once in place for years. Our paradigms for most everything are in flux. Language is becoming clusters of consonants interspersed with emojis. A smart phone is all but de rigeur at this point in history. We have access to all literature, science and history but are far more interested in creating the ideal selfie.
I'm not standing in judgment even if the language of that last paragraph reads that I am. Really.
So why don't I want to keep up? What possible reasoning could there be for choosing not to be a part of the mainstream? Am I just watching the world go by?
It's simple: I'm a romantic.
I love so many things left in the dust of wild advancement. I write with a pen. I can appreciate that people love taking pictures of their food, but I would rather relish in everything it is then step away fro my enjoyment to capture its image and post that to social media. But that's me.
Infatuation. Flirtation. Taking the time to get to know someone, even if that means having phone conversations and writing letters. I love the immediacy of texting and nudes as much as anyone, but there's something about a slow burn seduction that's just delicious to me. Caressing someone's brain with just words is an art form that seems nearly extinct. As I'm closer to extinction by the minute, this makes sense. But, as someone I know likes to put it, I ain't dead yet.
This is not a lament and it is not harping on things being better in some bygone time. That's horse shit. The world has always been a struggle for the thinking and feeling. And society has always marched unrelentingly forward. That's how things are. I'm fine letting the advancements happen, they just have less and less relevance for me.
Each new device I'm convinced to get has a shorter lifespan than the one it replaces. For this old brain all the convenience of new functionality makes less sense on an intuitive level. We used to joke about owners manuals for the things we bought. Now they don't exist. Where customer support was once something everyone looked upon with chagrin, it's all but gone. I could relay incidents from the last years of my trying to get assistance from one company or another, but it's pretty evident from all I say and do that I'm from another era. And it may be an era that never happened.
I have watched the weird twisting of inspiring to inspirational and tone into tonality. I have been given phone numbers that I'm told never to call. I watch world leaders daily who have no idea what diplomacy is. And this is fine. My bafflement is fine. And so is my solitude. Stepping out of the current of life around me is really what allows me to enjoy those things I'm able to savor. And I revel. I'm a creature of the senses. Give me a great view, wonderful aromas, the tactile glory of something exquisitely sculpted. Let me look into a lover's eyes for hours, let me kiss for days.
But in a world where everything's in motion, faster and faster all the time, I'll stand away a bit and delight in some stillness. A friend has taken to calling me Zarathustra. It's a compliment I hardly deserve but infinitely preferable to the far more common Unabomber comparison. I'm not truly a hermit although I am definitely reclusive. My life was so accessible for so long that I am really easing happily into anonymity.
As I've written loads, I'm difficult. It isn't that I'm complex or complicated, but I am obstinate as hell. It isn't that I think my way is right, but it works for me. No one else needs to believe in the same kind of love I do or harbor sentiment the way I choose, but why is it so many want me to let these things go. Yes, I have had unrealistic ideas of a lot of things for most of my life, but that kind of view also allowed for a kind of magic in the world. I'm not opposed to tech, but as an artist I need magic. Need it.
In a world that seeks to reduce everything to sound bytes and memes, I'm writing an epic novel that's equal parts adventure and philosophy. Not to publish or to convince anyone that I'm valid, that my viewpoint is (likely it and I are both obsolete), but because this gives me a world where I can understand something. It's no ideal reality, but the conflicts and struggles are those that resonate with my skewed take on things. It's not a noble pursuit so much as an endeavor to challenge me cerebrally and aesthetically.
So yeah, I'm that guy living in a forest on a mountain, the same one who's not jumping into conversations. But don't take the wry smile on my face as condescension. And please don't assume that my confusion over something said to me is simply the reaction of a doddering old dude (although it may be). It could simply be that I'm observing the way things are to throw it into contrast somewhere in my writing or music.
