Happy Anniversaries

Wednesday is about books. And writing. Today a wee piece about some important anniversaries. And I might have Covid again. Hope not…

I have been Facebook-free for a year. Yep. I told you all at the time. And that was insane. Given I was about two-days off Facebook when I decided to go all public declaration. But I’ve lived that way for a while, daily blogging for over a decade means I got used to sharing what I was up to, and being held to things. These are strange motivations, at times. But they work.

I’ve mentioned this many times, but when I announced the joy of expecting our child as part of my blog, the comment that stuck was someone going, “Ha, good luck blogging every day when you’re a dad!”

A few months on, when Oscar had his first sickness-assisted night without sleep, and I was up at 5am penning my blog because that was the first time the house was quiet, I might have (briefly) cursed my stubbornness. But that comment from that anonymous doubter kept me going for years. I am forever grateful to that throwaway line from that smug person.

And so I decided to become that smug person for myself. Announcing that I was going Facebook-free would be the motivation, I’d have egg on my face otherwise.

And, really, the year off has been a doddle. It really has. It’s amazing how quickly you move on and realise what you need. What you don’t need. And, yes, I realise how juvenile I sound saying things like that in the wake of the extreme weather events New Zealand has encountered over the last month. I have lost nothing. I have been safe. I sound like a twat big-upping myself for lasting without a social media trap. (A social media trap that might actually be connecting people that have lost so much in the last month).

It’s definitely fair to say that the audience-reach for my writing more than halved. I had geared it too heavily in that direction. So it was an extreme move to distance myself entirely but it felt necessary. I did it in part to protest, but really I did it to restore a part of myself.

There I was sharing things just so they could be shared. Saying things just so I could be seen to be the person on the record sounding off about that. It was as much a hindrance to my writing, and distraction from it, as it was a tool to help ‘sell’ (ha!) it.

The cycles of life are weird, huh.

Here I am a year on, really enjoying writing this newsletter. Always grateful for comments and engagements, for subscriptions and renewals, for ideas put forward by the readers, and for any connection whatsoever. And I feel more connected to the writing of this newsletter than I ever have.

And here I am a year on, in bed sick, about to take a Covid test.

It is exactly a year to the day (also!) from when I tested positive for Covid the first time.

So, we’ll see how that goes…

I’d like to think I’ve been a more ‘strategic’ writer in my year off Facebook. And I’m certainly ‘cured’, in that I feel no need to return. My account is not closed. I still need it for various log-ins and I keep in touch with people on Messenger. I’m still using Instagram, which is owned by the same overlords. But I am no longer a slave to that cold, blue light.

My band has a Facebook page, and I don’t get to re-post the events and updates on my page. But that’s okay.

I am missing out on a lot of information – but am I really missing out? Really?

I wrote this poem recently:

Social Remedial:

I miss out on so much
now I’m not on Facebook

and frankly, it only makes me
wish I was missing much more

*

Seriously, it’s a revelation to be behind, to be catching up. I had been listening to Boy Harsher for years, including a lot recently, but I only found out the band was going to be in my city, a mere 20-minute walk from my house, about a week before the gig! Fortunately, there were still tickets available – okay, so there’s that. You run the risk of missing out on not seeing the show if there’s huge demand. But it’s fun to be closer to last rather than near to first; it’s good for me to be retooling that. I like it. It works.

Well, this isn’t much of a newsletter. And I apologise. But it does feel like a mild achievement. (I don’t like taking a day off, but I do need to get some rest). And it feels like I have found a necessary new way forward. I’ve carved out the path and I’ll continue. I am free of the blue light. And I can’t imagine ever going back.

Now to take that Covid test…

What a strange trip around the sun it has been. But I’m here. And happy. And hoping (always) for more of that.

But hey, here’s a real anniversary. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of The Moon is 50 years old today.

Released, on this day in 1973, the album still hits me. Still moves me. Still keeps me in its sway. I remember driving in after school 30 years ago to buy the 20^th Anniversary edition of the album on CD with one of my best mates. They were selling it for $6.99, a reference to the original LP price. We were already fans of the album, discovering it sometime in our very early teens, or a bit before that, since it’s one of those albums that’s just always been there.

Dark Side feels like it’s forever been 50 years old. And some days, I promise, you can put that album on and parts of it at least, still feel brand new to me. David Gilmour’s guitar solo in Time. The swirls that whirl in On The Run. The line-delivery of “Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way; the slipperiness of the way the groove shifts its time in the climax to Money. These are songs that have been here forever but you can lean in and hear them anew.

I’ll be finding some time to listen to Time again today.