Plugged in But Disconnected

Someone once told me that when your nose itches, it means someone is thinking of you. I said something like, "You're adorable." What I should have said was, "You're an idiot."

No, seriously, it would have saved my so much teen angst in my high school years.

Tonight I read about the spiritual practice of isolation. Immediately I thought, "I'm a male who has struggled quietly with depression since adolescence. Believe me, J.B.Smith, I do isolation well. Next week, I assume, will be 'Hiding What's Really Going On' and then 'Pretend to Your Family and Friends Everything Is Okay.' " But Smith is talking about intentional isolation. Taking time and space to be you - just you, with whatever Powers That Be, and getting away.

So I walked out the door without my phone. My friend posted that he forgot his phone on the way to the bathroom and doubled back for it. That's how bad he needed it. Sometimes I go into the kitchen without ol' iKunz and I begin to hyperventilate. But this time I did it on purpose.... Okay, that's a lie. I turned it off and set my watch timer for an hour. Baby steps, people.

On my way to the pub I realized that so often I CLING to my phone. I need it right there. I sacrifice a great deal of battery power most days to be instantly notified when someone plays a b.s. word like "Qi" in Words With Friends or texts me or "Likes" my comment on someone's photo. I need to be notified instantly.

Because my nose doesn't have AT&T, but when my phone vibrates (or plays Waka Waka) it means someone is thinking about me.

When I was in high school I started lifting weights to get a girl who would never have been interested it me to magically become interested in my. Magic failed me - she never noticed. But I kept the habit, and like all of my peers, I got into shape in college. And you know what? She still didn't notice. She didn't care.

I joined the Marine Corps. That's the most bad ass branch of the U.S. military.

And I'm finishing my master's degree.

She still hasn't called.

The Internet is our generation's printing press. But Katharina Von Bora didn't find a picture of Martin Luther taken at an awkward angle in his bathroom with the flash showing in the mirror and come a-runnin'.

____________________________________________________________

Henri Nouwen notes that the potential of good in an object is equal to it's potential for evil. This is true of technology, I think. It gives me a thousand other ways to connect with people from all over the world. People I met in high school, in Kolkata/Calcutta, in Hong Kong, and in Iraq can all get hold of me with just a few short keystrokes and a non-Chinese Internet connection. My world at their fingertips. And we all know this. We know how easy it would be for them to get hold of us.

And they don't.

And we're left feeling empty - feeling unintentionally isolated. And it sucks. Disillusionment sucks.

Because here's the truth: 99% of the people from high school (or wherever) just don't care.

(Almost) no one gives a shit that you got in shape, had a boob job, got your Ph.D., rescued a puppy, or trained a monkey to brush your teeth for you (unless you put it on YouTube). Our tools of communication have become the outlet for unrestrained narcissism. For heaven's sake: I'm barely a competent writer and even I need a blog/Xanga/Facebook to share my thoughts.

_____________________________________________________________

But I don't want to sit around, waiting for people to comment on my latest entry, or find out who approves of whatever 4square I've become the mayor of, or mentioned me in their retweet. I don't want to be bound to questions like "Did she text back?" and "What does FratGuy05 deem, from his mother's basement, I should do about my current dating woes?"

I want to use technology to connect me to people that matter. I want to unfriend everyone on Facebook I'm only still friends with because it's a pretty girl and "Who knows? Maybe a really funny status update will cause her to fall madly in love with me?" I want to connect with people and share the shit of life. I want to be honest about what depression and discipleship look like, and honest about what it means to strive to be a "wounded healer." I want to define the resources of my culture to accomplish an end, instead of letting the resources of my culture use me to build their "social network." (Take a moment to enjoy the irony of my posting this on Facebook.)

An artist does not paint the way she does because the tools necessitate it. She paints thus because her soul demands she make use of the tools to translate the canvas of her soul.

( will be later posted @ facebook.com/dustin.kunz?sk=notes )

[Just for the sake of honestly, I think I should admit that I have a VERY high need for validation. I have no need for societal acceptance, though, so that's good.]