"Of course, your phone does not love you. But it can kick out a little picture of a heart every once in a while, which makes you feel good, because in second grade you cut one just like that out of a piece of rough red construction paper. We are not complicated creatures."
I sure did mash the little cut-out heart below this.
Don't mind me, Max, I'll just be over here slightly leakily feeling things about time (what is it? why am I so very bad at it?) and state changes (how does anyone ever do them functionally, I surely do not know) and Thin Mints and phones. I have not a lot of experience with children, aside from having been one surrounded by others and largely disliked that state; I was relieved to see that you were in fact heading towards discussion of one's inner child because I had found myself thinking that from early in this post and was feeling weird about it in that way which trying to communicate through ADHD has taught me to feel weird about my struggles with adulting versus other people's apparent relative ease.
(For what it's worth, I also have found people talking about "running out of netflix" etc fascinating - I have a thousand million things I want to be doing and no energy or attention or discipline to do them instead of sending out endless hearts and screams on this magic mirror through which we speak.)
You speak so incredibly evocatively and rather searingly about this, about where your child is and where that brings you to, in a way which I find incredibly resonant. I hope this paper heart and message in a bottle find you well.
What an excellent essay. You are spot on about the phones, Max. So many a time I have felt outside of time -- outside even of feelings that normally remind us of time's passage, like hunger, or sleepiness -- by hooking myself up to a stream of information. Yes, it's dangerous, but... sometimes it *is* nice to rebel. And not just by reading Twitter -- by reading a parenting book, or watching a murder mystery, or playing a tabletop game.
In Days of Yore, when I was twenty seven and work wasn't eating my entire life, I would go on gaming binges and come out feeling guilty -- but also creative. I'd write a lot, cleanly, quickly, after having finished a marathon WoW session. I no longer have time for a marathon WoW session, but I find that when I lock myself into Responsible Adult Schedule for too long, I need a break. Just to cut loose a bit.
Obviously, saying this from a place of huge privilege. Can't cut loose on a toddler. Or maybe if you live in an extended family situation, where grandma or close friend or whoever can take over for a little while, you get more freedom to take a break. That's one of the particularly rough things about this pandemic, and one of the things I most eagerly look to restoring -- communities being able to come together and help create these gaps of time, these pockets of now, that we so desperately seem to crave.
"Of course, your phone does not love you. But it can kick out a little picture of a heart every once in a while, which makes you feel good, because in second grade you cut one just like that out of a piece of rough red construction paper. We are not complicated creatures."
I sure did mash the little cut-out heart below this.
This is so beautiful & good.
Don't mind me, Max, I'll just be over here slightly leakily feeling things about time (what is it? why am I so very bad at it?) and state changes (how does anyone ever do them functionally, I surely do not know) and Thin Mints and phones. I have not a lot of experience with children, aside from having been one surrounded by others and largely disliked that state; I was relieved to see that you were in fact heading towards discussion of one's inner child because I had found myself thinking that from early in this post and was feeling weird about it in that way which trying to communicate through ADHD has taught me to feel weird about my struggles with adulting versus other people's apparent relative ease.
(For what it's worth, I also have found people talking about "running out of netflix" etc fascinating - I have a thousand million things I want to be doing and no energy or attention or discipline to do them instead of sending out endless hearts and screams on this magic mirror through which we speak.)
You speak so incredibly evocatively and rather searingly about this, about where your child is and where that brings you to, in a way which I find incredibly resonant. I hope this paper heart and message in a bottle find you well.
What an excellent essay. You are spot on about the phones, Max. So many a time I have felt outside of time -- outside even of feelings that normally remind us of time's passage, like hunger, or sleepiness -- by hooking myself up to a stream of information. Yes, it's dangerous, but... sometimes it *is* nice to rebel. And not just by reading Twitter -- by reading a parenting book, or watching a murder mystery, or playing a tabletop game.
In Days of Yore, when I was twenty seven and work wasn't eating my entire life, I would go on gaming binges and come out feeling guilty -- but also creative. I'd write a lot, cleanly, quickly, after having finished a marathon WoW session. I no longer have time for a marathon WoW session, but I find that when I lock myself into Responsible Adult Schedule for too long, I need a break. Just to cut loose a bit.
Obviously, saying this from a place of huge privilege. Can't cut loose on a toddler. Or maybe if you live in an extended family situation, where grandma or close friend or whoever can take over for a little while, you get more freedom to take a break. That's one of the particularly rough things about this pandemic, and one of the things I most eagerly look to restoring -- communities being able to come together and help create these gaps of time, these pockets of now, that we so desperately seem to crave.
Ah, but this is perfectly beautiful.