I guess Adele and I are cool now. It took a while. For all those freshly salted and single, you catch my flow. She not only floats her soothing, rounded ‘Ooo’s’ over your jagged mind of thoughts but she simultaneously dissects the past in such a way you can’t help but feel like your going through open-heart surgery. Unmedicated- usually in the middle of work.
But this operation has also prompted me to understand how Adele’s song ‘Hello’ is really about herself and Facebook.
” Hello from the other si——deee ” – did you mean the other side of the room Adele? The other side of the screen? Desk? House? Probably all of the above.
( Okay, so I’m about to take you all the way down into the depth of woahness. So hang the fuck on. )
Of late I hate my phone. We have become good-mates. I reach for it more times now then I reach for my wallet. And if you ask my dad, my wallet and I are pretty much the same person. Shiny patent leather on the outside and a disorganised puzzle of coffee cards littering the inside.
I was thinking of doing a mini self-intervention via a survey on how many times I reach for it’s black-gloved hand as the sheer number I am sure will disgust me enough to not want to touch it again.
But like Tom Odell and his talent to find toxic love, I feel like I am already part of a pairing I barely consented to.
Just like every girl who is a writer and happens to love shoes of all colours, shapes and backgrounds. Aka Carrie Bradshaw. Yes, a lot of other girls who write words and love shoes can be her too. But I’m different- or so my dad says when he sees my debits. As Queen B chants: “Sorry”- whispers to shoe collection,”I’m not sorry”.
But with uni, clubs and new faces to implant into the brain its hard to facilitate without Facebook acting as one’s own personal assistant. YES- from media studies Facebook is all about forcing friendships, co-dependence and sociological manipulation. But when on crack, one only sees the beauty of endless updates to their page and friend requests of people you met once. From the outside, I can bet its pretty ugly. Just go back past any high school at lunch-time. Or on the train, at peak hour. You could walk onto that thing stark naked and no-one would care to look. Today no one cares if you are gay, pantsexual, asexual, straight or atheist. RiRi was right- if you are not “shining bright” like a $800 dollar eye-phone, then you are NOT a “shooting star”, anyone sees.
I dare you- try the app – ‘Mobile Cleanse’. It locks you out for 8+ hours, while helping wean yourself off the addictive micro-squares beaming their blinding smile. I will say the motivational endearments do become annoying as you get through the first hour rejected and in need of a hit.
“What about an awesome new lip-kit that could dress my lips in hues of burnt, deep-friend or baked apricot pie….”
“-Nope!” The app stands proud in it’s stance on my sobriety.
“You really, really sure Mobile Cleanse?”
“Yep. F-off .”
But getting away from all the faces, all the lights, endless interactions- It’s rather nice.
Just to see and not hear for a change.
Beyond-curious 