#eclecticeverything

Foreword: This is a satirical approach on the over dependency of cell phones in today's society, originally written for my ap english class. Maybe this will convince some to turn off their phones and experience life a little more.

Unplugged at 100 percent. Marie grabbed her Iphone and rushed out the door. To be late for her friend’s wedding was not an option. Putting in the address to the church on the gps app was something she did with ease, having spent much time devoting her attention to this small device. Driving there proved to be more difficult in the sense that she felt awkwardly alone. Slide to unlock, playing the Today’s Hits Pandora station in the hopes of demolishing the silence. Still, there was a looming uncomfortable feeling. Might as well tweet about where I’m going, Marie thought. Stopped at a red light, no harm in updating my account. Several autocorrections later, a simple sentence caused the drivers behind her to pass with grimacing expressions. Another distraction taking away from the main goal: to simply get to the wedding on time. 

Walking in late, everyone has already been seated. Unable to handle the annoyed eye contact she knew she would receive as she made her entrance, Marie pulled out her phone, kept her head down, and tried to look like she was doing something of great significance. Getting through the ceremony seemed like torture as she felt her phone vibrate in her purse. Marie knew better than to check her messages at such an inappropriate time, but it was the only thing captivating her mind. The vows passed in a blurred mix of words since all Marie could think of was what she was missing, wishing her ever so important companion was resting comfortably in her hand. All the while as the Justice of the Peace spoke of a bond that would never be broken, Marie tried her best to concentrate. She yearned to just glance at her phone, to make sure nothing important was happening without her. It was then that a realization crossed her mind; nothing compares to the commitment she shared with her smart phone. The relationship between the newlyweds, one of love and dedication, was all very relatable to how Marie treated her precious Iphone. 

The couple was officially married, everyone was cheering, and Marie was checking her cell phone. The glowing screen revealed its 70 percent battery life. What realistically was about an hour felt like days to Marie, having severe withdrawals from her cell phone. The moment she got out of the church she made sure she checked everything: email and text messages, Facebook and Twitter, Instagram and Vine. What she saw, unsurprisingly, was a lot of updates she had missed in the short while she had put down her phone. Other people fixating over social media, putting whatever they were doing on hold for something more critical, nothing too unordinary. She finally pulled herself away from the distraction and focused on the new task at hand, which would be getting to the reception. Driving there at first was easy. Easy until a familiar text tone sounded and all of Marie’s attention on the road was lost. Steering in a straight line was an obstacle when her eyes were averted to something seemingly urgent in the moment. A ten minute drive altered into a half hour.

Arriving at the reception, the phone battery slowly dwindled to 50 percent. Marie sat down at her assigned table and marveled at how beautiful her meal looked. This surely is Instagram worthy, she thought, taking a quick picture, followed by opening numerous photo editing apps to give it the right filter. By the time she was finished, her meal was cold. For the entirety of the dinner Marie stuck to her phone. She found the face to face communication to be too time consuming; a simple text carried far more importance. She was telling all of her friends who weren’t lucky enough to be there the incredible time she was having, sitting at a table alone thoroughly drawn in to a glowing screen. When the time came for the newlyweds to cut the cake, Marie missed the whole event, checking how many likes she got on her picture. The music started and people gingerly filled up the dance floor. Marie decided she wasn’t one for dancing and instead took photos of the action. For if she didn’t document the wedding and post about it on every social media website, then was she really even there? And truthfully, she did take many nice pictures, pictures of people she didn’t get to meet and activities she didn’t partake in.

I remember my middle school science teacher being way too close to a girl in my class. Her hair was multiple neon colors and she enjoyed the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and apparently so did he. And I witnessed this gawky "relationship" as I spent so much time after school at my lab table making up work I missed while staying home, reading books and watching indie films. He always brought her food. She always made him laugh.

I recall being fourteen and skyping with a boy who was getting ready to go to college. Little did I know this is where my habits all started. Syracuse was his dream, although it was unlikely he'd attain it. He worked at Dunkin Donuts and whenever I got sick he'd send me cards. Today, I don't know where he is, if he did get into Syracuse, or if he left his job at Dunkin Donuts. He did discontinue the cards, although I haven't stopped getting sick. 

I forgave my best friend for moving on. Since I played games before I knew what the game was. And I'm starting to figure out it's those who you grow so much with that won't stick around. There's a lot between where you start at point A and end at point B. And all that "stuff" meshes together and blends until you pull it apart and it's unrecognizable. Same aspects but a different formation. That's what happened to us. And I can't even recollect when we stopped being friends. I think it's when I started to wear jean jackets to catch the attention of long haired guys in punk bands. What you said to me when I was staying in Dublin three years ago still floods my mind.

I forget (or rather, am still forgetting) the mess I put myself in last year. I'm so sick of writing about it. I'm so done thinking about it. But it's towns this small that dig things up when they're just about buried. I want to forget and I need to forget. One let me put makeup all over his face. Two made me eat sausage for the first (and last) time ever. One walked into a restaurant with roses for me. Two took me hiking and showed me that nature wasn't 100 percent disgusting. But one walked away when I needed someone. And after everything, two spent my birthday with me.

To be forward, this is a rant.

How I seem to make connections with people is profoundly confusing. Why I get too close for my own comfort in order to learn new things later comes across as another waste of time. It is and it isn't. Maybe an effort I can use in the nearby future, I'll do anything to be exposed to something new. Being in such a small space with the same view and same mass of adolescents forever wearing the wrong colors for each season makes me tired. I will go to any extent to learn something, anything. Maybe that's why the relationships are short lived and the conversations are gray. I'm not passionate towards people I'm passionate towards information. It appears that I should date an encyclopedia rather than a person. Once I find out what makes them different, it's over. Time to move on. Solace cannot be offered by people when they are viewed in this light. However, maybe it could be offered by my cargo jacket being left on my porch sometime this week.

Disclaimer

This is going to be a simple vignette focused on one memory, out of a whole situation of complex memories. 

It wandered into my head as I watched sunlight filter in through the window this morning in my first block class. Don’t stop reading, I know it’s a terribly predictable start but I swear it gets better. The rays of sun cascaded onto the harsh metal cabinet and cheap plastic fan. And somehow all of a sudden I had with me something I had forgotten for so long. I suppose I should have been paying attention in this class, for it was one I’ve been struggling in, but what came to me I couldn’t ignore. It was so long ago it seemed like I had made it up in my head. Like I had based my childhood off of Little House in the Prairie. I almost had trouble believing that it was me. Didn’t I hate nature? Would I ever spend my time hanging out with amphibians? 

I don’t think people change entirely. I think they always will be a variation of what they always were. 

Let me begin. The sunlight always filtered itself through my window with the soft lace curtains. It fell onto my bed with the vintage iron frame and homemade quilts mapping out various sceneries. It was always my wake up call. But in case the weather prohibited the sun from shining, I still had the roosters. This isn’t my hometown. But it was a home. Before the economic crash of 2008, these scenarios were occurring all over the east coast for my family. Vermont alone we had acquired half a dozen properties. That’s what my father collected. But like I said this is about one in particular. No one would believe me now, if I told them this house was in the middle of no where with farmland on either of it’s side. I didn’t use the internet, I didn’t watch television. I went to the pond in the backyard and caught frogs with my bare hands. I regret to say I frequently swam with my frogs as well, not caring that the pond had a green tint. I got my exercise running from horse flies in an untamed field which would take me through the deserted barn and into the woods (which I was convinced was where Snow White lived). I cannot tell you the hours I spent sitting in a clearing calling for the seven dwarfs. I wish I was kidding. And the barn, I would sneak out to late at night and sit there with my electric lantern, trying to get in touch with something out there, what I was looking for, I didn’t know. I loved this old property and the character it had. It made everything seem like the 1950’s. I felt sophisticated as ever while taking a bath and reading old newspapers. Or every now and then sneaking into the kitchen and stealing scones while my mother had people over for tea in the landscaped backyard. I’m positive my mother doesn’t even like tea. I can see the luna moths displayed on the window pane as  if I’m a kid again asking my brother if I can keep them in my room. And often I did, catching them with a jam jar and releasing them into my antique bathroom . Oh of course I read to them. Yes what an ordinary thing for me to do. I read them novels sporting words I couldn’t comprehend. But I did it anyway. 

          You wanted my attention so badly, and now you have it. This is my conclusion, this can be your closure. I suppose a conversation such as this should’ve been in person. Or before I despised you this much. Because now it’s a farewell letter. It’s my piece of this situation and it is all that will be contributed. I’m sick of what you have to say camouflaged by texts and written by one too many beers.

A child trying to catch their parent’s attention, that is what you have succumbed to. The effort isn’t appreciated. The effort is pathetic. It is strained, it is overused, it is ugly. You’re older but not wiser. You’re lost and you put that on my choices. Then why have I moved forward and you’ve thrown yourself back? Maybe you are in a dark place but who really put you there? 

Over thinking my actions will drive you insane. You’ll never know. You’re wrapped up in a memory you’ve constructed. Whatever you’re talking about, that wasn’t me. I wasn’t there when you were falling in love with me. I was busy having a good time with my summer. Mine, not ours. 

This isn’t a defense mechanism. I’m not hiding behind my words, I could repeat this time and time again. Having you in front of me won’t change my mind, I can deny you as easily as how I first introduced myself. I do pity the fact that you think it’s me who has it wrong. Maybe someday it will hit you. It could be when you’re watching a film you think I’d like or buying a pocket tee you think would amaze me; and then you’ll realize I’m past that. I hope you’ll come to terms with the fact that you can’t impress someone who disregards you completely. 

Money can’t make a dull person different, or exclusive, or mesmerizing. 

And trying to duplicate your interests to mine will not make me believe that you and I should have anything to do with one another.