Today marks the day that I was absolutely sick of all things internet. 

No, no, ok, wide sweeping statements never make for the perfect opening to a blog entry. In fact, I think they might be frowned upon. Moving on... No, I do not hate everything that the internet allows me to do. Yesterday, we booked 4 separate gigs for The Hive in the space of about ten minutes, from a field in Oxfordshire. I have researched countless ideas and developed many a theory with the help of a few wiki searches. Much of my poetry is, embarassingly, owing a nod of gratitude towards the internet for finding 'words that rhyme with ______' once or twice too often. And tonight I had a wonderful Skype with my boyfriend, who is miles away in London. Those things are gr8. With an 8.

Nonetheless, it is here, sat at 1am at my laptop in the middle of beautiful rural Oxfordshire, on a Writing Residency at the wonderful Sophie's Barn (seriously, check out this charity, they are amazing) that I realised, a large part of this 'time away to be creative' has been taken up by Facebook, Twitter and, the beign of all wasters' internet-existences - BuzzFeed. There, I said it. Yes. I have only just realised that scrolling through countless gifs of funny things I might possibly relate to, or even maybe just relate to on somebody elses behalf, actually isn't enriching my life. Or even remotely entertaining most of the time. Ditto reading countless Facebook updates about the state of the weather. Or, to be honest, 90% of what I actually do on the internet. 

I started reading an article in anguish earlier today, that was headlined 'ADHD may not exist'. I was horrified. 'The poor kids', I internally cried, exasperated (I work with many ADHD children) 'their parents must be mortified to be told they have actually just got 'naughty' offspring'. The article, however, was not dismissing the symptoms we recognise as ADHD (I have recently entertained the idea that I myself may in fact struggle with my attention span a little too often to be okay with it...) but merely pointing to other contributing factors that can lead to the misdiagnoses of young people who are constantly distracted. And that's just it. We live in a world where being content just is not enough. We are constantly seeking the next joke, thrill, internet sensation, hilarious video of cats playing a clapping game dubbed over with silly french subtitles. (No but that is funny). We are constantly tracking what's 'trending', what's going viral, what's important in the world of the wide wide web. But all of these things are exactly that. They are the art of distraction. I so often find myself in a situation I wouldn't change for the world, feeling that insufferable urge to 'just send this text message' or 'quickly pop outside to check FB'. 

I feel that all of this constant, multi-tabbed consumption is detremental to my life, directly. I am constantly the product of the multi-screening generation, incontent to sit and watch a film without the comfort of a warm laptop resting on my lap and a charging phone sitting in my palm. Since when did the world become so immediate and demanding? Since when was an email that has just come through, self-destructed if not read within 4 minutes of being recieved? Since never. I need to chill. I have, and possible always will have, the patience of a six year old. I like progress and I like it fast. I'm the first on the phone if I think itll get me somewhere quicker. But that also means I am the first on a HILARIOUS post on my best friend's wall. The first to get involved with a theoretical FB debate. The first to update everybody when something exciting happens. 

The worst part of all of this is, I have no real intention to change, other than in expressing my own concern. I seem incapable of switching off the daytime television of the internet. The junk post of my inbox. I'm sure addict is a very strong word, but really, are we not all just slightly addicted to social media? Isn't it having a lasting impact on our well-being? I know I am not the only one, christ, it is very foten the very fear of being the last to know that hastens my journey to my profile page. Everybody else is alreday ten times faster. When I get to the notification, my FB friends are already there. My internet didn't work at my house for 10 days over Christmas, and I moved out. 

So here I am, on the internet (but of course), ranting in order to try and show myself just how big a deal this is. I am setting out to decide consciously, rather than automatically, how much techno drivel I am willing to take on board. I am quitting BuzzFeed. (Omg I might miss out on 23 reasons that Anna Hendrick is a legend. Shit. Loljk I read that this afternoon). Each time I go onto these sites I am going to endeavour to ask myself - Really? Is this the best way to spend the next, inevitable 3 hours? Trawling old pictures when I could be out and about taking new ones? What else could I be doing?

I'm quitting shit internet.

I'm going to embody all thing art wanker. I'm going to go for a walk (without my mobile, by god if I can manage). I'm going to write things down. Draw something. Perhaps just postpone my internet fixation for an hour. 

The internet is a whole box full of magic, so of course I'll be back. Tomorrow. Ranting into dark, enclosed and totally unvisited (thank god) blogs. 

It's not January 1st but I'm calling it a New Year's Res, cause, well, we creatives never were all that good at doing shit at the correct time anyway, right?

Good night. Here is to a creative start in twelve hours time. Just after I get my nightime Facebook hit. 

Internets Anonymous.