Double-edged Sword

The conveniences of modern life are a miracle for many; a menace for me. Of course I relish in its little delicacies - the ease with which I can find a new recipe, the convenience of the weather app, the ever-present camera ready to document life's eccentricities. What I abhor, though, is the glorification modern technology has given to self-sufficiency.

A modern writer not only must craft the manuscript, but design the website, market their content, sell themselves...etc. Oh, what power in the entrepreneur. In the olden days, I could write my thoughts on a paper and submit it to the press. Now, I must also be the press. The barricade separating my revelations from the outside world is the headache of navigating WordPress, Go Daddy, and the likes. Why does no one speak of such things? What looks like simply words on a screen involves such intricacies that my brain is simply not equipped for.

I opt instead to play small because in order to play large I must do it all myself. Gone were the days when one could simply be the talent. Perhaps they are not gone; perhaps I'm looking in the wrong places. Perhaps I write an article and submit. Perhaps I pay to delegate such tedious tasks. I'm not ungrateful for these opportunities. I'm just...awaiting.

What's worse is that I now have no one to blame for my lack of audience. I can create the audience - as millions before me have and continue to do. No longer can I sit around and wait to be noticed. With power comes pressure, and the pressure I feel has all but squashed the desire to create.

I't’s taken away the privilege to blame, to complain. To blame the small town, the lack of opportunities…for opportunities are infinite in this tech-based world. It reminds me of Sweden…someone once told me that suicide levels in Scandinavia were at an all time high because their education, resources, community, etc were top notch. For their unhappiness, they only had themselves to blame. Perhaps that’s why the rich and famous are often the least fulfilled - they have it all, supposedly. So when the normal human ache for more creeps in, they feel there’s no where left to go.

Of course, none of that should stop me from creating, from sharing with the world. If no one reads it, alas…no one’s reading it on my computer anyway.

Now enough of my diary. I’m happy you’re here and that you’ve read this far. You, sweet soul, are the reason it’s worth something.