The battle to be consumed
As I’ve slowly come out of the fog of fear and anxiety that I’ve found myself in over the last few years, I find myself with the almost indescribable urge to create. Not just create, but the overwhelming feelings of wanting to be consumed by what I’m creating. I go to sleep at night thinking of what I want to write, lines coming to me and stories whispered in my ear. I roll over and grab my phone and jot down in my notes a haphazard version of the thoughts swirling around in my head.
I look out at the sunset in the evening, the way that the light is filtering through the trees and lowering towards the horizon in the distance, the myriad of colors exploding across the sky for a few fleeting moments and I’m struck in my soul, in my spirit, with the sense of needing to create something as beautiful as what I just witnessed.
My form of creation is through writing. Trying to express my feelings on pages and getting the words out of my head and into coherent sentences. Sometimes putting my heart into the words, sometimes using my head. A lot of times just staring at the screen thinking of how I want to explain the feeling inside of me.
I’ve encountered a block though. I wouldn’t call it writer’s block because I don’t write enough to consider myself a writer, and therein lies my problem. Brain rot is a modern term for a modern problem. When I was clutched in the machinations of my fear I distracted myself anyway that I could, and it usually wasn’t through expressing myself. Technology has allowed us to distract instead of transmute. Instead of attempting to learn how to embroider ( a hobby I’ve wanted to learn), let me see what’s on facebook marketplace. Instead of sitting down and writing a poem expressing my love and heartache, let me go on instagram and watch reels for 20 minutes until the feeling of wanting to create something fades into a slow and silent retreat to the back of my mind.
I deleted tik tok a while ago, it was too consuming and too easily addicting. Instagram isn’t much better, but I lie to myself and say that it is. Lately, it’s as if my social media is calling me out. Half of what I see when I go to the reels is videos of awe inspiring artwork, or of someone dedicating hours and hours and years and years honing their craft into perfection. It’s Tchaikovsky’ ‘Pas de Deux’ from the Nutcracker and Samual Barber’s Adagio for strings; these two pieces haunt me and have for as long as I can remember. They are two of the singular most beautiful and awe inspiring works of music I’ve ever heard and instagram has been showing them to me on repeat for weeks.
I want to be consumed by that sheer feeling of inspiration, emotion, and pure awe I get when I listen to them. I want to dedicate myself so wholly and completely to creating something of that magnitude. I’m not a musician, and the only song I can sing semi-decently is ‘Angel from Montgomery’ but only the Bonnie Raitt and John Prine version, so I don’t have unrealistic goals of composing a song- let alone one that requires an entire orchestra.
But I can write.
I’ve realized that social media, modern media in general, is stopping me from my full potential of creating. I watch a video of Tchaikovsky’ ‘Pas de Deux’ being played by a live orchestra and it brings tears to my eyes. It’s the holiday season. I’m starting to see videos of ‘O Holy Night’ sung by an orchestra and it makes me want to fall to my knees. In those few moments I feel the incredible urge to release. To mold and construct a piece of writing that elicits the same overwhelming sensation that those pieces bring to me.
Then I scroll on to the next video and that fleeting moment of complete and utter inspiration is shattered. The brain rot is back. I always thought I was above that term, that it would never apply to me. I’m not chronically online the way some people are. I tend to read books more than I watch TV, and I don’t even know how to turn on a video game station let alone play one. But I’m still online way more than I should be. It was a distraction from the life I wasn’t enjoying, and it’s become a habit that’s hindering me from experiencing my life at the fullest potential.
I’m not trying to sit here touting my holier than thou attitude either. I wish I could say as soon as I made this connection I deleted all social media off of my phone. That’s not the case, nor will it be the case. Social media is now how everyone operates. If I want my writing to reach people, it most likely will be through social media. It has its uses, but only if used correctly lest the brain rot kick in. I was inspired enough today by scrolling on instagram and coming across a quote by Dostoevsky. I don’t remember what the quote was, I don’t even remember what it was regarding or related to, but it made me want to write.
I don’t want my social media usage to be the death of my creativity. I want to bring back my ability to focus on something for hours on end, to be consumed and swept away in the makings of something. I want what I see online to inspire me, not drain me from the inside out.
So here’s to more creative and disciplined usage of technology; to fighting brain rot, or at least being inspired by it.