In December 2019—or as we now refer to it, the Before Time — the online magazine Man Repeller predicted that 2020 would be “the year of being not extremely online, not extremely offline, but rather medium online.”
An oversaturated 2019 left many of us reflecting on how we could have a more wholesome, balanced relationship with social media and our rate of online consumption in the upcoming year. “Medium online” offered a moderated approach to technology, using it for only practical and purposeful tasks and rejecting the rest. …
During a past therapy session, my therapist surprisingly noted a breakthrough. I had no clue what she was referring to as I felt a swirling mix of complicated emotions. Yet one of those emotions was anger.
As my therapist explained to me, my progression from sadness to anger was quite a positive progression indeed.
In a book I admittedly haven’t read, Dr. David R. Hawkins created a spectrum of consciousness, starting from the lowest level: Shame, through to Guilt, Apathy, Fear, Anger, and then on to Pride, Courage, Acceptance, and Reason. The highest levels are: Love, Ecstasy, Peace, and Enlightenment.
The hard truth is that even in a post-pandemic future, we will need to grieve what we’ve experienced in order to move forward.
Grief over lost plans, lost friendships, lost…
We are about to round the corner on the one year anniversary of when lockdowns started worldwide, aka the week our old lives ended.
Fittingly for many, the day shit-finally-hit-the-fan and the pandemic became real was Friday the 13th, in March 2020. It was for me. My Timehop is almost embarrassing to look at this week as I galavant around without a care in the world. This time last year I was out partying in London, hugging friends, and getting a tattoo.
On that Friday 13th March 2020, as borders cascaded shut and cases exploded, I had to choose between…
I’ve been missing hotels. For so long Airbnb maintained their allure as a cheap way to travel, especially for longer periods of time, a month here, a month there. The digital nomad’s wet dream.
But now those prices are barely cheaper, if not more expensive, than many hotels. And what are you gaining?
I used Airbnbs for years for both personal and work travel until I had some interesting experiences travelling solo. Nothing ‘bad’. Just a level of discomfort that made me realise a hotel would be a similar price, and that my peace of mind was priceless.
In January last year, I made a throwaway comment to friends that I needed to sit inside for a month with no distractions, no place to be, no socialising, and just catch up on my life admin. I had work to do, and my health was slipping away from me after a boozy festive season. I was over being busy. Famous last words?
Quarantine didn’t exactly deliver on my hopes for productive solitude. It was impossible to tear away from the news and the stress of a world in chaos.
But I certainly got my wish, and so did many…
My eldest sister’s newsfeed tells a strange story.
Based on her targeted advertising she is a erotic story loving pregnant woman with toe fungus. Her most recent targeted ad? An erotic tale: ‘The Billionaire’s Surrogate: A Pregnancy Romance.’ She swears it’s not targeted based on her Google searches.
I believe her, considering her ads this month included the following: livestock ear clippers, car mufflers, pregnancy vitamins, Coronation Street recaps, and jockstraps. She’s a childless accountant who only watches Netflix.
So, the algorithm is not working at its best.
Ads never used to bother me. I easily ignored the stream of…
Why do we subject ourselves to watching bad, scary, frightening things unfold? I don’t think I’ve ever watched as much news as I have this past year, it’s physically impossible to look away from daily case and death counts. As morbid as it is, I have this gut yearning to know the stats.
I was driving home last week and got stuck in traffic, in the opposite lane to a crash, because drivers on my side of the road were slowing down to get a look. Rubbernecking. Morbid curiosity.
Carl Jung believed we like to watch violence because “it allows…
With no reason to leave the house in lockdown last year, I didn’t bother seeking any kind of productive routine, only survival.
As quarantine extended so did my sleep. Waking up was hard.
Without a coworking space to physically drag myself to each day, I could justify working from bed. I simply creaked open my laptop. The privilege of only requiring an internet connection to work made laziness all too enticing. Waking at a ‘reasonable’ hour seemed absurd. It’s a pandemic, I said to myself. It’s fine to sleep until noon.
That lasted until day 42 inside. With no control…