a start of something
In the last few years, time has sped up. I am sure of it. An hour now, whether I am cleaning my house, reading a book or staring at a wall at my corporate office job, doesn’t feel the same as an hour used to feel. Part of me wonders if this is because I have found some semblance of contentment with my life, or because our perception of time changes as we age. But friends, I am only 26. And every waking moment feels like I am standing at a bus stop, but the buses are moving so fast that I can’t raise my arm quickly enough to flag one down.
For as long as I can remember, I have been a purporter of the clichéd belief that I was born in the wrong decade. So clichéd, in fact, that someone once told me I couldn’t claim to be a feminist because if I had been born in another decade, I would be chained to a stove complaining about the world instead. In recent months, I am beginning to think this belief I’ve held for so long is actually just a deeply held desire for slowness, or distance from whatever it is that makes time feel so inescapable.
Despite being a regular user of social media, I find myself more and more desperate to cut ties with it altogether for this reason. X has ruined Twitter (I haven’t seen anything relevant to me in weeks), reels have ruined Instagram (no more videos, please!) and TikTok is just, well, TikTok. It all feels vapid and painful and fast – so fast that by the time I have conjured a thought or strung a sentence together, it isn’t even worth sharing.
It’s unrealistic to say I won’t use social media anymore. Following a realisation that going slowly is my preferred way of navigating the world, I moved back to my small hometown by the sea. I love it here, but it would be impossible to stay connected with friends, in the book world and beyond, without staying online. I also do enjoy *some* content and would die immediately from the fear of missing out if I ever left altogether.
What I am saying is, I’d like to find a way of thinking about things, sharing my thoughts on books and reflecting on writing – just in a slower way. And so here the experiment begins.