Posts Tagged ‘open letter’


An Open Letter, to the Internet.

March 16, 2010

Dear Internet,

let me start off by saying I miss you. I feel like a part of me is missing, like its been cut off and stuffed in a drawer. Or buried in a pet cemetery. Or eaten by a rather odd little man with no hair who likes to “read alone” a lot.

See, I have this thing that a lot of people have called a job. I also have an addictive personality, which is part of why it was so simple, so easy for me to become as addicted to you as I did. When you add the two things together, it makes for a not so happy boss.

I’ve been given the order to cut you down to zero at work. An Order. Its you or my job, baby, and you know how I feel about showers, and eating food, and a roof over my head and the ManBears’, and laundry detergent, and tapatio, and keeping my cat up to his eyeballs in tartar-reducing treats.

It doesn’t help that I try to catch up on all that I’ve missed during the day when I get home, sucked into your vacuum, your delicious delicious vacuum. And I want to catch up. I want to read the 132 (no seriously. that’s what I came home to today, after clearing it last night) unread posts in my Reader. I want to tumbl, refreshing every. single. minute. just in case I missed something amazing. I want to catch up on episodes of shows I dont even watch because I can. I want to spend hours reading the 9 hours of tweets I missed, responding late because I don’t want to be forgotten.

And that’s dangerous.

Never mind the fact that I would read twitter feeds all day long. Never mind the fact that tumblr is full of basically useless (if amusing) things (that totally made my relationship what it is today, which is a story for another time). Never mind the fact that I havent made art in months, that I havent unpacked from my move (4 months ago), that I havent called my grandparents since before new years (I did see them at christmas though!), that I haven’t exercised in long enough that half of my pants don’t fit over my big butt and love handles (no really mom. you don’t have to be nice. i know they’re there. i saw them in the HUGE MIRROR while i was getting into the shower the other day to shave my legs for the first time since new years, another thing I haven’t done in far too long).

Internet, I have to stop using you so often. I am turning round and slow. I have carpel tunnel and screen-vision. I have a click in my neck (an actual click that sounds when I move my neck out of that position) from hours of leaning slightly forward and down.

I need to start living the life I keep telling myself I want.

So Internet. Baby. Sugar-lips. Sweetums. I am not quitting you. I never could, but this (work mandated, boss demanded) cutback of hours for you can do me a world of good if I let it.

And I think I might let it.

With all my love and tired fingers,


ps. see you tomorrow.


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